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novaursa · 26 days

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Hi Novaursa! I just saw that you're taking request. Your writing is beyond awesome and I'm wondering if I can make a request with Gwayne Hightower and Female Reader? The two decided to marry in secret when the reader's parents arrange her for another man? Bonus point if they get to have a short happy marriage before Gwayne leaves for King's Landing (and we know what awaits him there T-T)?

I might have mentioned it before but I love your writing! ^^

A Rose in Oldtown

- Summary: Gwayne steals a rose and allows it to grow strong in Oldtown.

- Paring: tyrell!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- A/N: I had something similar laying around on my hard drive. It was not for tyrell!reader, but I've used its bones for structure and it needed pretty little rewriting. This is why this is posted so soon. And yeah, I'm manic sometimes when it comes to writing. When I have an idea I can't sleep until it's done. Or do anything else basically. If I don't respond to your ask after a few days, then I'm probably starting from scratch. @justdillydally I hope you enjoy this as you did my other works. ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 3 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand at the front of the Sept, dressed in the finest gown Highgarden could offer—an emerald green masterpiece embroidered with golden roses, the petals dusted with delicate pearls that shimmer in the dim candlelight. The sleeves are long and sheer, allowing glimpses of your skin beneath, while the bodice is cinched tightly, enhancing every curve. The skirt flows like a river of green silk, the fabric whispering with every breath you take. A golden rose sits in your hair, nestled among the intricate braids that frame your face. It’s a gown fit for a queen, but today it feels more like a cage.

The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of tradition pressing down on your chest. House Lannister’s colors dominate the sept, crimson banners emblazoned with golden lions hanging from every pillar. They seem to mock you, roaring silently, a reminder of the fate being forced upon you. Your father stands beside you, his expression unreadable, yet you can feel the iron grip of his expectations.

“Remember your duty,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding.

But duty is the last thing on your mind. Your heart is hammering, but not for the man who waits for you at the altar. Jason Lannister stands there with a smug smile, eyes gleaming like a cat eyeing prey. You should feel fear—discomfort, even—but all you feel is anger and longing.

Your gaze drifts past him, searching the shadows of the crowded sept for a pair of familiar gray eyes. You know Gwayne is near, can sense him even if you can’t yet see him. He promised you. He promised he’d come.

The sept doors creak open, and a gust of wind rushes in, carrying the salty tang of the nearby sea. For a heartbeat, the ceremony halts, heads turning toward the disturbance. There, at the threshold, stands Gwayne Hightower, clad in green leather riding armor, a stark contrast to the opulence around him. His hair is tousled from the wind, a few unruly strands falling into those piercing eyes that hold yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

“Are you truly going to allow this travesty to unfold?” His voice echoes through the sept, defiant and laced with a challenge. The guests murmur in shock, eyes wide as they shift between the Lannisters and Hightower.

“Gwayne,” you breathe, relief and something wilder, more reckless, surging in your chest.

Your father bristles, stepping forward as if to block the path between you and Gwayne. “You have no place here, Hightower! You disgrace your house with this insolence!”

But Gwayne’s gaze never wavers from you. There’s a promise in his eyes, a question. And deep down, you already know your answer.

“Disgrace?” Gwayne laughs, sharp and mocking. “The only disgrace is forcing a woman to marry a man she doesn’t love. Let her choose.” He extends a hand toward you, daring you to defy every expectation, every command that’s been drilled into you since birth.

Your breath catches in your throat. The world seems to narrow to this single moment—the choice between duty and desire, between a life of cold gold and a life of burning passion. The rose on your head suddenly feels heavy, a symbol of everything you stand to lose if you step toward him. But the thought of losing Gwayne is a pain sharper than any blade.

“Your duty is to your house,” your father snaps, gripping your arm. His fingers dig into your flesh, as if he can keep you there by force.

“Is it?” you whisper, meeting his gaze. “Or is my duty to myself?” With a sudden, fierce resolve, you tear your arm free, the embroidered fabric of your sleeve ripping in the process. The soft sound is like the tearing of bonds that have held you for too long.

The tension breaks like a thunderclap. You lift your skirts and run, the long train of your gown dragging behind you like the last vestiges of your old life. Gwayne doesn’t hesitate. He rushes forward, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a tight embrace as you reach him. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath the leather armor, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You nod, breathless. “I was ready the moment I saw you.”

With that, he pulls you toward the doors, toward freedom. The guests shout in outrage, your father’s curses mixing with the indignant roars of the Lannisters. But you don’t care. All you can think about is the wind in your hair and the warmth of Gwayne’s hand in yours as you both burst out into the sunlight.

Two horses stand waiting, saddled and ready. Without another word, Gwayne lifts you onto one, his touch gentle but urgent. He mounts his own horse in a single fluid motion and turns to you, his eyes blazing with determination. “We ride to Oldtown. There, we’ll be married by nightfall.”

Your heart swells at his words. There is no more doubt, no more hesitation. Only the thrill of running toward a future you chose for yourself. You share one last glance, and then together, you kick your horses into a gallop, racing away from the sept, from duty, from everything that sought to bind you.

The road ahead is rough, the path winding and treacherous, but with Gwayne at your side, it feels like the smoothest ride of your life. The wind whips your hair, tangling it with the remnants of your torn veil, but you laugh—a wild, unrestrained sound that echoes over the hills.

“This is madness,” you shout to him over the pounding hooves, but there’s pure joy in your voice.

“Madness is letting you go,” he replies, a grin splitting his face. He reaches over, his fingers brushing yours as you ride side by side. It’s a touch full of unspoken promises and a future yet to be written.

By the time you reach Oldtown, the sky is painted in hues of dusk, the Hightower looming over the horizon like a beacon guiding you both home. Gwayne helps you down from your horse, and you’re both breathless, flushed from the ride. He pauses, holding you close for a moment longer than necessary, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll never let anyone take you from me,” he whispers, fierce and possessive, but laced with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Good,” you reply, your voice steady and sure. “Because I won’t let you go either.”

Hand in hand, you enter the modest sept in the shadow of the Hightower. The ceremony is simple, witnessed only by a few loyal friends, but it is perfect. When Gwayne says his vows, his voice is low and rough, thick with emotion. And when you pledge yourself to him, it’s with a heart so full it feels like it might burst.

As the septon pronounces you husband and wife, Gwayne leans in to kiss you, a fierce, claiming kiss that seals your fates together. In that moment, you know that no matter what battles lie ahead, no matter who might seek to tear you apart, you have already won the greatest victory: a life lived on your own terms, with the man you chose.

Life in Oldtown is a far cry from the rigid splendor of Highgarden or the bustling grandeur of King’s Landing. The Hightower looms majestically above the city, its walls steeped in history and tradition. You’ve come to love its winding corridors, the serene gardens tucked away behind ancient stone walls, and the way the sea breeze carries the scent of salt and lavender through the open windows. It’s become your home—a place where you and Gwayne have carved out a life filled with laughter, warmth, and stolen moments of happiness.

This morning is bright and pleasant, the sun spilling golden light across the gardens where you sit with Prince Daeron. The young Targaryen, with his silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, is a delight—sharp-witted and full of curiosity, yet with the unmistakable earnestness of youth. He often seeks your company, and you’ve grown fond of the boy, finding comfort in his easy laughter and unguarded conversations. Today, the two of you are seated beneath a blossoming magnolia tree, playing a game of cyvasse, though it’s clear Daeron is far more interested in the tales you’ve been telling him about the Reach.

“And is it true,” Daeron asks, eyes alight with fascination, “that the fields near Highgarden stretch as far as the eye can see? Nothing but green and gold?”

You smile at the eagerness in his voice. “Aye, and in summer, the air is thick with the scent of roses. The orchards are heavy with fruit, and the rivers run clear and cool. It’s as close to paradise as one might find in Westeros.”

Daeron leans closer, resting his chin on his hand. “You make it sound like a dream. Perhaps one day, I’ll see it with my own eyes.”

“Perhaps,” you say, though there’s a touch of melancholy in your tone. “But Oldtown has its own beauty, Daeron. Have you grown fond of it?”

He nods, a thoughtful expression passing over his young face. “I have. But it’s different—quieter, more… ancient. The Hightower has secrets, I think, buried deep beneath its stones.”

Before you can reply, you notice Gwayne approaching from across the garden. He’s dressed in simple but well-made clothing, his sword strapped to his side as always. When he sees you with Daeron, a warm smile lights up his face, and your heart skips a beat as it always does when you see him. Even after all this time, the love between you remains as fierce and tender as it was the day he stole you away.

“Prince Daeron,” Gwayne greets the boy with a respectful nod, though his gaze lingers on you, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I hope you’ve been kind to my wife and haven’t defeated her too soundly at cyvasse.”

Daeron grins, shaking his head. “She’s a worthy opponent, Ser Gwayne. I’ve yet to best her.”

Gwayne chuckles, but then his tone softens as he turns to you. “My love, would you join me for a walk? There’s something I wish to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glance at Daeron, who waves you away with a knowing smile. “Go on, my lady. I’ll study my strategy for our next match.”

You rise, smoothing the folds of your gown as Gwayne offers you his arm. As the two of you walk through the garden, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence, the way his strength grounds you, even in the quietest of moments. You follow him deeper into the garden, past the flowering hedges and beneath the shadow of the towering walls, until you reach a secluded corner where a stone bench sits nestled between climbing roses.

“Here,” Gwayne says softly, guiding you to sit. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, and the air hums with the song of distant birds.

“What is it you wished to show me?” you ask, though your voice is gentle, already sensing that this moment is less about revealing something new and more about being together, away from the prying eyes of court and the endless duties that come with your position.

Gwayne’s smile is tender as he sits beside you, taking your hand in his. “Nothing but this—just us, here, away from everything. I’ve been wanting a moment alone with you all day.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a familiar and intimate gesture that never fails to send warmth curling through your chest. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, the quiet rustle of leaves, and the scent of roses hanging in the air.

“You spend so much time caring for others—Daeron, the household, the people who come to us with their troubles. I sometimes wonder if you’ve time left for yourself,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “How could I want for anything when I have you? You’re all I need, Gwayne. You always have been.”

His eyes darken with affection, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. “And you, my sweet rose, are more than I ever dreamed of. I often think of the day we ran away together—how reckless it was, how mad we must’ve seemed. And yet, here we are. You, the light in my life, and me, foolishly in love with you every day more than the last.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that makes your heart swell. You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. For a long while, neither of you speaks, content simply to be in each other’s presence, surrounded by the peaceful solitude of the garden.

Eventually, Gwayne shifts, turning so he can cradle your face in his hands. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he’s memorizing every line, every freckle and feature. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and there’s a rawness in his voice, a depth of feeling that makes your breath catch.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And you are everything I never knew I needed.”

He leans in slowly, giving you time to close the distance, and when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, tender, and full of unspoken promises. The kiss deepens gradually, a slow, deliberate connection that speaks of love and trust and a desire that never quite fades. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, so close it matches your own.

“This,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, “this is all I want. A life with you, here, in our little world, where no one can touch us.”

You smile, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness, the warmth of him against you. “And you have it, Gwayne.”

The room is bathed in the soft light of dawn, the golden hues filtering through the gauzy curtains and casting a warm glow across the bed. The linens are tangled beneath you, a reminder of the night spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. Gwayne lies beside you, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve and feature. The air is thick with the scent of roses, mingled with the salt from the sea breeze wafting through the open window.

His fingers trace idle patterns along your bare shoulder, lingering on the curve of your neck, then down to your chest before they rest on the gentle swell of your abdomen. You place your hand over his, and he looks at you with a mixture of longing and regret. It’s in his eyes, in the way his thumb absently strokes your skin as if he can’t bear the thought of leaving you.

“I wish I could stay,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep and emotion. “It kills me to think I won’t be here when our child is born.”

You close your eyes against the sting of tears, fighting the lump in your throat. “I wish you could stay too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I know you must go. Aegon’s summons cannot be ignored, and you have always been loyal to your family. I understand that.”

Gwayne leans down, brushing his lips softly against your temple before moving lower, trailing kisses down your cheek and jaw. His lips linger at the curve of your belly, reverently pressing a kiss to the slight bump that holds your child—the child he might not meet for months, perhaps longer. The touch is tender, filled with all the love and unspoken vows he cannot put into words. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he murmurs, “I’ll be back before you know it, my love. I swear it.”

You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, holding him close. “You can’t promise that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your attempt to stay strong. “King’s Landing is dangerous, especially now, with the realm so divided. What if—”

Gwayne lifts his head, cutting you off with a kiss—deep, slow, filled with a desperation that echoes the ache in your chest. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back the fear he won’t speak aloud.

“No ‘what ifs,’” he says firmly, though there’s a faint tremor in his voice. “I’ll do everything in my power to return to you and our child. This is my life—you are my life. Nothing will keep me from you.”

You nod, blinking away tears that threaten to spill. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe it,” he whispers, cupping your face and wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Hold onto that hope. I’ll need it as much as you do while I’m away.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply hold each other, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and the bittersweet reality of this impending separation. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your palm, and it takes everything in you not to beg him to stay, to forsake the king’s orders and remain here, safe, with you.

But you know Gwayne, and you know his sense of duty runs as deep as his love. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned his responsibilities, even for the sake of his own happiness. And so, you do not say the words that claw at the back of your throat. Instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent—earthy and familiar, a comfort you’ll cling to in the lonely nights ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, Gwayne gently disentangles himself from your embrace, rising from the bed and beginning to dress in silence. The rustle of fabric and the soft clink of his belt buckle are the only sounds in the room. You watch him as he fastens his sword to his side, his expression distant, already steeling himself for the journey ahead.

When he’s fully dressed, he turns back to you, his eyes softening as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and kneels beside the bed, taking your hand in his. “I’ll write as soon as I reach King’s Landing. And every chance I get, I’ll send word to you. I want to know everything—how you’re feeling, how the babe is growing… Everything.”

You nod, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ll write too. I’ll tell you of every little thing, so you don’t feel too far away from us.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in one last kiss—sweet and tender, a promise sealed between you. When he finally pulls away, it’s with a sigh that speaks of reluctance, of the struggle to let go.

“Take care of yourself and our little one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be counting the days until I’m back in your arms.”

You manage a small smile, though your heart is breaking at the thought of watching him walk out that door. “And we’ll be counting the days until we see you again. Ride swiftly, and come back to us.”

With one last lingering touch, he rises, and then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, an emptiness settling over you like a heavy cloak. You press a hand to your belly, imagining the life growing within, and whisper softly, “Your father will come back to us. He must.”

But even as you say the words, a chill runs down your spine. All you can do now is wait, and hope that the gods are merciful enough to bring him back home—where he belongs, where all of your love and dreams are waiting for him.

The morning light spills across the bed, but it feels colder now, as if the warmth of his presence has been stripped away. You lie back against the pillows, closing your eyes and letting the memories of his touch, his voice, his promises fill the emptiness, holding onto them with every fiber of your being.

You whisper a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they listen, hoping they understand that your love is worth returning.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd gwayne #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne x y/n #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader

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ghouldump · 2 months

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Fangirl | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ meeting the vampire rockstar goes surprisingly well

here is something short, while waiting on the other posts coming soon :) if this post isn't up around 7/26 its because i hated the fic so much, i went ahead and deleted it

“How does my hair look?” You kept looking into your phone camera, touching your makeup.

“It looks good, what about my outfit?” Cara, your friend, asked.

“You both look fine, I wish you would come on,” her brother, Caleb groaned.

“Seriously, all of this over some guy who claims he’s a vampire,” her boyfriend, Jason, grumbled, out of jealousy.

“You never know, he might be legit, you know there was a book that came out recently-

“Don’t start with your vampire conspiracies, Y/n,” Jason said, rudely, while Caleb snickered.

“Ignore him, even if he’s pretending, he’s sexy, so it doesn’t matter,” Cara laughed, taking your hand as you both entered the stadium.

Sighing, you tried to focus on the concert, and not let Jason’s words get to you. You could be a little sensitive and his words hit a nerve. Cara was the one who introduced Lestat’s music to you, professing he was her celebrity crush. Since then, you couldn’t deny the overwhelming interest you held for him and his outlandish claim that he was a vampire.

When she brought up the concert, you immediately began saving money, not only for the best seats but for a backstage pass. You were ecstatic, and you couldn’t let someone like Jason of all people ruin your night before it started.

Suddenly, the lights began to dim, the crowd began cheering, he was coming. As the music started, he appeared, and everyone screamed wildly. You could hardly move, frozen, mesmerized by his presence. The hair, face, body, skin, he seemed like the embodiment of perfection. Just as his eyes landed on you, you felt like you could melt, your face burning in excitement.

“I think he just looked at me,” Cara told you.

Not saying a word, you kept your eyes on him, watching as he slightly smirked, grabbing the microphone.

“He kept looking at me,” Cara said as you both made your way backstage. Neither Caleb nor Jason were willing to pay the extra money, leaving to wait in the car for the two of you.

"I think he looked at me too," you said, as she frowned, before scoffing.

“I would’ve noticed, he was basically singing to me,” she cheered, as you both approached the line.

Everyone stood, waiting for their autograph or picture, giving Lestat all of their praises, until it was finally your turn.

“Oh my god, could you sign this?” Cara asked as you made eye contact with Lestat. His gaze was intense, making you look at the floor.

Quickly signing Cara’s album, he hadn’t acknowledged her once, already reaching for your hand.

“Hi, I didn’t bring anything, you can sign my arm,” you laughed, as he quickly wrote his signature.

“Thank you, are you actually a vampire?” You asked. Cara stood awkwardly next to you, waiting for you.

“Y/n, why would you ask him-

“I have no reason to lie, Y/n, would you like proof?” He asked, his eyes examining your outfit in approval.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Why don’t you wait for me?” He pointed towards his dressing room.

“You can’t stay, Caleb and Jason are waiting for us,” Cara told you.

“I will make sure you are home before sunrise, is that alright, ma chèrie?” He asked you, tilting his head.

Nodding, you began to walk into the room, jumping as Cara stumped her feet.

“It’s not fair, I knew your music first,” she told him.

“And I appreciate your support, but I’m afraid you are holding up the line,” he told her, chuckling as she stormed off.

Sitting near the vanity, you received all kinds of messages from Cara. You were tempted to leave, hurt by all the mean things she said, because you chose to stay. You didn’t understand why she was so angry, she had a boyfriend, and you expressed your interest in Lestat as well.

“She’s been jealous of you all along, why do you think she allows her boyfriend to talk to you so rudely?” Lestat asked, rhetorically, taking off the shirt, as soon as he stepped into the room.

“She’s just…a really big fan of yours,” you cleared your throat as he approached.

“Are you a fan?” He asked, leaning on the table in front of you.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Then how she feels is truly irrelevant,” he chuckled.

“We will be leaving shortly,” he continued, changing into a button-down shirt.

Walking to the opulent convertible, you kept your head down. Fans and Paparazzi all called out his name, yet still, they kept a clear path for him, almost afraid of what would happen, blocking his way. He kept a slight smirk on his face, giving them only enough of his attention that would leave them begging for more.

Getting into the car, he blew them a singular kiss before speeding off. As reckless as he seemed, he was a great driver, and patient, listening to the classical music that played lowly on the radio. Finally, he parked in front of a large house.

“T-this is your home?”

“No, just temporarily, my house is in New Orleans,” he said, nonchalantly, getting out of the car, as you hurriedly followed behind him.

Entering the large house, your eyes wandered up the walls, to the ceiling, admiring the details. Looking back down, you realize that Lestat wasn't walking anymore, staring at you.

“What?” you asked, nervously.

“You've been around that wretched excuse of a friend for too long, you have no reason to be timid, you are a piece of art,” he complimented.

The trait reminded him too much of a certain someone, accepting poor treatment, and constantly being undermined and disrespected. You deserved better, much like his Louis did, and for that he liked you a bit more, perhaps you could be around much longer than he originally planned.

“Thank you,” you said, gulping as he circled around you.

Unconsciously, you backed up, moving away from him, until you bumped into the sofa. As you nearly fell backward, he caught you. Reaching for your jaw, he lifted your head, your eyes meeting his, and instantly, he began his hypnotic voice.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, nervous, anxious, you’re allowed to be as carefree as your mortal heart desires,” he said, his thumb brushing against your lips.

“Okay,” you nodded, before snapping out of the trance.

“Come, ma chèrie, the night is still young,” he told you, holding out his hand. Biting back your smile, you accepted his hand, giggling as he swiftly picked you up, carrying you to the master bedroom.

“Why didn’t you stick with opera?” You asked Lestat, you both lay in his bed, conversing for the last two hours.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he smirked.

“Like pretending to be a vampire,” you stood on your knees, before he pulled you into his lap. Baring his teeth, you gasped for a moment, realizing the fangs were real.

“As stated before, I have no reason to lie, I have been a vampire for over two centuries”

“You’re legit,” you smiled excitedly, as you reached for his teeth, poking the fang.

“You’re more excited than I imagined”

“I hoped you were, that it wasn’t a costume,” you confessed to him.

“To fulfill your fantasies? I see what you think of happening, of doing. For your desires to be made manifest, show me what you want, what your heart calls out to me for,” he told you, kissing your wrist, as you climbed out of the bed.

Undoing your top, as soon as it fell to the floor, Lestat was in front of you. His glass-like nails trailed across your stomach, as he circled you. Pulling you into his embrace, he took in your scent. Goosebumps covered your arms, as you stood pressed against his cold chest.

His hands brushed against your neck, before moving to your breast, cupping them. Closing your eyes, you moaned, as his fangs sank into your neck. The sensation of your blood draining, mixed with the massaging from his hands, the exchange felt better than sex.

Pulling away, you stared into his eyes, your blood all over his mouth. Grabbing your head, he hungrily kissed your lips, picking you up, and carrying you to bed. Stripping the remainder of your clothes, Lestat kissed you as if he'd never been kissed.

“Am I going to die?” you asked, catching his attention.

“All mortals die,” he reminded you, before he went back to kissing your neck, smirking as you moaned.

“Will you turn me?” you asked.

“Not tonight, ma chérie,” he laughed, pulling the blanket over the two of your bodies.

Lestat’s ego was stroked, hearing how much you were turned on by your blood being drunk. So much that he was willing to give you the real thing to compare it to since you thought it was so much better than sex. He wouldn't kill you, not like he had done the others. Your essence was too familiar, and he could already see himself growing attached in the future. He liked you and intended to see you again.

“I hope you sleep well,” you told him, as you went to get out of the car.

“I will and I plan to see you soon, ma chérie,” he told you, watching as you got out of the car, tiredly walking to your front door. The amount of times and positions you had previously experienced didn't even seem humanly possible, leaving you feeling like an entirely new person.

Just as you shut the front door, your phone began ringing. Seeing Cara’s contact, you felt visibly agitated, rolling your eyes before accepting her call.

“Why weren't you answering the phone?” she asked immediately.

“I left it in his car, on accident”

“So, how did it go?” she asked. Thinking of Lestat’s words, you knew better than to share details, when she didn't even want you to go in the first place.

“I don't kiss and tell”

#lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat x reader #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #amc iwtv

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fangirl-dot-com · 10 months

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Chapter 7 - Family Dinner

Pray for Christian. He’s just realizing that he now has two kids, who race every weekend in dangerous cars, only for them to have no life outside said cars. Max might be a little OOC, but ya know – who cares. I know I said that I would post tomorrow but free practice doesn't even start until midnight where I am. So it's going to be pushed back to Friday night at the latest and then a definite post on Sunday. Anyway, enjoy and don’t forget to comment if you want to be added to the tag list.

The entire way to the restaurant, you were almost shaking with anxiety. You knew you would get there 15 minutes early, but would that be too much? Would you be the last one to show up? Vito had texted you that so far, it was only him, Christian and Geri, with Riggs and Lacy. But that couldn’t stop your brain with coming up with worst case scenarios. But, you couldn’t help it. You took a couple of deep breaths as the car pulled up to the restaurant.

Around the entrance, there seemed to be thousands of reporters and photographers. That made you panic as well. You shot a quick text to Vito, letting him know that you had arrived. You waited in the car until he came out to get you. You noticed that Riggs had decided to come out as well. You only now notice the size difference between him and Vito. The man was massive. PR agent and personal body guard? You were set for life.

Vito opened the door for you and helped you get out of the car. The moment you were two feet on the concrete, the flashes of the cameras started going off. You tried your best to smile, but it was difficult when you were being blinded by the lights. You mentally laughed at yourself at the Weekend joke. Thankfully, no one grabbed you or anything. It was probably because Riggs had placed his hand on your back and carefully led you inside. No one would get passed that man.

The ambiance of the restaurant was a stark contrast to that of outside. The lights were dim and there was a live orchestra in the corner. Vito was able to catch up to you before you got to the table.

“Quite a show that was,” you mentioned as you spotted Christian at a table in the corner.

“Well, you are trending everywhere on social media kid,” Vito replied as Christian stood up to greet you.

“Nice to see you again sir,” you said as you shook his hand.

“And you as well kid. That was sure some entrance.” You let out a small laugh.

“All I did was walk it. I think I might be blind for the rest of the night. I can still see all the flashes.” A woman, who you recognized as Geri, let out a laugh. You turned to her.

You obviously wanted to shake her hands for the rest of your life. It wasn’t every day you got to meet Ginger Spice. But you forewent all of that, and settled on a light hug. “It’s an honor to meet you ma’am. I asked Vito if I could have brought something for you to sign, but he said I probably shouldn’t.” You heard a smack of a hand against a forehead. You continued, “But now seeing you in person, I should have brought my entire CD set.”

Geri and Christian both laughed out loud at your statement. Geri was able to calm you down as she promised that the next time she attended a race, you could bring something. You were able to sit next to her at the table.

You were definitely fan-girling the entire time. But who cared. Geri was a nice person to keep a conversation with. You were relieved to see some familiar faces already at the table. Mitch was seated across from you with Lacy at her right. Riggs had sat next to his wife while Vito found a seat on the other side of you. The rest of the table was left empty for Max, Checo, and whoever they were going to bring.

One waiter came to the table and asked for everyone’s drink orders. Because you were only 20 and the drinking age in America is 21, you asked for a water.

Vito had joked around with the waiter, “Can you bring that in a sippy cup for her? She tends to spill.” A slap to the arm had him shut up as the rest of the table fell into small laughs.

You argued back, “It’s not my fault that you’re so old. Did you remember to drink your prune juice this morning? I know how grumpy you get if you don’t.” You flashed a wicked smile at him as you took a sip of your drink.

The adults started to laugh a bit harder.

The laughter only died down when Christian suddenly stood up and rounded the table. Your eyes followed him and landed on two figures. Your heart picked up as you came to the conclusion that they were Checo and Max. You didn’t know what to do. Should you stand to greet them? Or would that be weird?

You got your answer when they both just decided to sit down. However, Max was seated directly across from you. There was nowhere for you to hide from his sight. As he got situated, you quickly looked down at your dress and pretended to wipe something from the fabric. But, when you looked up, you made direct eye contact with him. Not wanting to wait for him to do something and come off as rude, you leaned a bit forward and put out your hand.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you,” you shyly said as he took your hand in his to return the gesture.

His accent was a little heavy, “Nice to meet you too. It’s Y/n right?”

“Yes sir,” you responded, almost a little too quickly. But Max had a questioning look before huffing and waving his hands.

“There’s no need for that, kid.” He picked up his drink and took a sip. “You shouldn’t be much younger than me, no?”

“Uh, six years younger,” you muttered. A choked sound came from across the table, which got everyone’s attention. Your cheeks heated as everyone looked at the two of you.

“Is everything all right Max?” Christian asked, a look of concern on his face.

Max points at you, “Where’d you find this – this..” you thought he was about to insult you. You winced at the thought. Except he finally finished sputtering, “literal child. She called me sir.” He all but whined the last sentence.

Christian spoke up, “Well that child beat your 7 year time record for the practice track.” He took a sip of his drink as everyone’s eyes fell on you.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to?” You wanted to die, but you continued, “I think I could have done better but there’s was something off on Turn five, but we said it was the…”

“Balance,” Max finished your sentence, nodding his head. “I’ve been trying to tell them to fix that.”

You shrugged, “It wasn’t bad though.”

“Did you slow down on the curve?”

“Yep, and accelerated coming out of the apex.” Max gave you a giant smile. Cars and racing he could talk about.

“How did you feel about the steering?” he questioned, hands coming above the table. You soon found yourself doing that as well.

“Eh, it was ok, but it was a bit understeery?” you didn’t want to go insulting his car, but you had a preference.

“Oh my gosh, I know. I had that problem the entire season.”

Everyone around you two knew that the moment the hands went above the table and were being flung everywhere, there was no stopping the two of you. They practically had to tell you both to shut up so that the table could start talking of other things and order the food. Your cheeks heated up when they pointed out your rambling.

“Sorry,” you muttered, going back to your drink.

“It’s fine kid. I’ve had to deal with Max for years. I think I can deal with it again,” Christian said as the waiters brought out the food. The Dutchman across from you rolled his eyes at the statement, which caused you to laugh.

He was actually a joy to talk to. You were able to finally greet Checo a little bit into the actual dinner. You didn’t know whether to say you were sorry he was retiring or to congratulate him. So you kind of did both.

Oh well.

Throughout the meal, discussions of next season came up along with the car. Christian was pleased to know that the both of you preferred an oversteer car. Yes, the car would still be more towards Max’s preferences, but you could work with it. You knew that you would be second driver. But you honestly didn’t care.

“I know how to play the teammate. I’m not looking for a championship right now. I’m just glad to be here,” you told Max and Christian. “Of course, I’m going to fight for a win, because that’s what I know to do. But I’m not going to block if Max is going to be faster than me.”

The two men nodded, thankful for a person like you. There weren’t many people who would willingly give up wanting to be first driver. But you understood this.

As long as Max Verstappen was in a Red Bull, he will be driver number one. The rest of the dinner went smoothly. As everyone was standing to leave, Christian announced that everyone was welcome to join them at a club. All the adults seemed to cheer as if they forgot that you technically couldn’t go.

You didn’t mean to show disappointment, but Max picked up on it. The math was mathing as he put two and two together.

“I think I’m going to skip out tonight. Not really feeling it.” His accent was heavy as he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

You and Max somehow found yourself at the back of the group. He leaned down and semi-whispered to you.

“Do you want to go get some ice cream?”

You face must have lit up as he mirrored you with a smile. Max offered to drive you to the place. You quickly said goodbye to Vito, before promising that you’d text him when you got back to the hotel. You followed behind Max, trying to keep up with his long strides. The heels and long dress were making it difficult, but you managed.

When you got to his car, he popped the door open for you because you weren’t able to figure out the handle. You weren’t used to the expensive super-cars. Yes, the cars you drove were nice, but not millions of dollars nice.

“You can play some music if you’d like to,” Max mentioned as he began to drive out of the parking garage.

“Famous last words Max,” you said as you scrolled through your playlist. A familiar 33 caught you attention. You bit your lip trying not to smile. “I really like the thought and meaning behind this one. Super nice vibes. Very rememberable.”

“Oh? Well then play it.”

You snorted at his innocence. The moment the familiar beats came on, he looked at you with a face of betrayal.

“You did not.”

“I did too. It’s a very catchy tune Max.” He reached out and pressed the off button.

“I’m revoking your DJ privileges.” Now it was your turn to look at him with a face of betrayal.

“You did not.”

“I did too. If you can’t play something nice, you won’t play anything at all.”

“What would you play? Some oldie from 1953?”

He snorted before putting his eyes back on the road. “I am not that old.”

“Sure.”

“We’re in the same generation Y/n.”

You argued back, “You’re on the fine line of millennial and gen z. You probably post memes on Facebook like an old lady.”

The two of you fell in silence, before you busted out laughing. Max started to wheeze, which made you laugh even harder and clap your hands like a seal. By the end of the drive, you were wiping tears from your eyes.

A bright ice cream cone lit up the sky at the car approached the store. You were able to get out of the car since the handle was much easier to figure out than the outside one. Max held the door of the shop for you and waited. He got curious when you didn’t directly come in.

He found his answer when he saw you kneel next to a cat to pet it. He was surprised that it let you touch it. After you were done, you stood up and flashed a sheepish smile at him, muttering an apology for keeping him waiting.

“I just love cats,” you sighed, looking at the kitty outside with heart eyes.

Max fished his phone from his pocket. He quickly put in the password. His fingers quickly found the giant album just for his cats on the photos app. He handed his phone to you.

“This is Jimmy and this is Sassy. What do you want and I’ll get it for you. You can keep looking.” You barely muttered a response, too enthralled with the gorgeous creatures on the screen. Max chucked as he went to get the ice cream.

You were too busy swiping through all of the pictures. They were both so pretty. Max had to nudge you to hand you your cone.

“Thank you for letting me see these,” you traded the phone for the cone.

“No problem. If you ever find yourself in Monaco, you can come over to see them.” Your eyes seemed to twinkle at the thought of meeting his cats. “Do you have any?”

You seemed to deflate at the topic of you being cat-less. “No, I’m away most of the year and I live by myself. My apartment is in Nice, but I think I’m going to move somewhere else.”

Max’s eyebrows creased, “Does your family not live close?”

You deflated even more. “No. To be honest, I don’t talk to my family. Like ever. I’m an only child as well so no siblings.” You kind of just shut up after that. Max felt awful. He knows that you probably know a lot about him. But he never thought to look up anything about you.

He wanted to talk, but you continued, “But it’s fine. Racing is my life and takes up 100% of my time.” Max knew that it wasn’t fine. Racing was his life too, but he had friends and family to keep him company. He had Kelly and P, Christian, Lando, (maybe) Charles. He could try to convince you to find a small apartment in Monaco so he could keep an eye on you.

He takes a moment to really see you. Right now, you weren’t a piece of art of you were almost face deep in your ice cream. This made you look younger than you were. And that hurt Max’s heart. His dad might be awful, but he still talked to him.

He must have zone out because your talking brought him out of it.

“Are you excited to race in Vegas?” you ice cream was almost gone.

Max shrugged, “It’s going to be difficult, since it’s cold. I’m worried about the grip of the tires.”

You thought for a moment, “Well, if you get far enough ahead, you could always swerve to warm them up further. I know that would cut down on speed, but you’d be able to take the corners a bit better.”

“How are you feeling about free practice one tomorrow.” Your eyes were now lit up once again, and Max is glad to see you perked up.

“I am so excited. Did you hear that they’re going to do the walk up announcements again?” Max shook his head, (he actually did but wanted to hear you explain). “Well, they’re doing it and I have the perfect song, if I get announced.” You pouted. “Do ‘reserve drivers’ get announced?”

“I don’t know. But I will make sure that you get one.” He put a hand on you shoulder.

You squealed and thanked him. “I am a bit nervous about the lap times though.”

Max suddenly hunched as to tell you a secret. “What you have to do is before you go into the flying lap, heat your tires to the max.”

“Max, max, max, super max.” He deadpanned. “Sorry, continue.”

“You have to push the throttle a couple of times right before you go to get the wheels spinning. The more they spin, the more friction they’ll have on the track, and the more they will heat.” (a.n. guys I don’t know if this is correct. I’m a writing major not engineering. But, more friction, more heat – I took one physics class so call me professor).

“Aaahhhhh,” you had a far out look, contemplating the precious information you’ve been given. You wanted to talk about something other than racing. “How’s your family?”

It was now Max’s turn for his eyes to light up. He brought out his cellphone again to show you more pictures. Some were of him and Kelly. Others of him and P. It was when he got to the drivers, you started to panic.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” you mutter, suddenly finding you dress more interesting. Max looked at you with a confused face.

“Kid, I’ve known you for,” he looked at his watch, “three hours now and I think I want you as my teammate for the rest of my carrier. Don’t worry, they will love you.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“I just, don’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“You won’t, kid. You won’t.”

After the topic passed, and Max finally finished his mess of the remainders of his ice cream, the two of you made you way back to his car. He made sure that you had texted Vito that you were back at the hotel when he dropped you off. Thankfully, his hotel wasn’t that far away.

“Good night Max. I will see you tomorrow teammate.” You winked.

“See you tomorrow, teammate.” You started to walk away before you remembered something.

You rushed back over to the car and knocked on the window. Max quickly rolled it down and leaned over the dash. “Is something wrong?”

“Which song are you picking? For the announcements? Because I think you should totally go with Max 33 or Super Max, or to annoy more people, the Dutch anthem.”

Max only chuckled and rolled the window up. Not giving you an answer. He could see you in the mirror flailing your arms as he left. He would see you tomorrow.

The first thing Max did when he got to his hotel was get changed. After that, he needed to make a quick phone call.

He clicked on the contact and waited for the person to pick up. The phone didn’t even ring twice before the sound of the call being accepted filled the quiet room.

Kelly’s face filled the tiny screen.

She was the first one to speak, “Hi baby.” Max gave her a sleepy smile. “How was dinner.”

“Oh it was great. I got to meet the rookie.” Kelly leaned her head on her hand.

“How did it go?”

“It was great Kels. I see myself so much in this kid.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yep. How do you think Penelope will feel about getting a sister? I’m already looking at how to adopt a teenager.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

The Quiet Ones 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: first draft of my final assignment is done, just need to do a few other things for class and I'm pretty much done.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

As night falls, you feel woozy. You don’t know how much longer you can hold out. The boxed macaroni and cheese only made your stomach hurt and you’re pretty much out of water. Tomorrow you might just have to venture outside and hope he’s not around. Somehow, you don’t think he’s ever gone. He seems to always be watching.

You can’t focus on your book. The edges of your vision are hazy and your head is pounding. You close it and look for something to watch. You just as quickly forget what you’re doing and shut off the television. You’re too weak to make it to the bed. You're tired, you just want to sleep.

You look at the window before you lay down, then glance down. The light isn’t there yet. Its absence unsettles you. You wouldn’t exactly prefer it was but it not being there makes you wonder if something else is coming.

You’re too exhausted to worry about it. You close your eyes as you lay flat on the couch. You exhale and let your body relax. The tension is as tiring as anything else. You’re always wound up tight, always waiting, always watching. You just don’t have anything left in you.

That familiar drifting sensation takes over you. Your eyelids itch and your muscles grow heavy. You slip into your unconscious little by little until your shrouded in a deep unbreakable darkness. You’re not scared or frustrated or happy or sad. You’re just tired.

The shatter of glasses splices through your momentary escape. You groan as you eyes snap open and you lay in the dimness of your apartment. What happened? The light was on when you passed out. What was that noise?

You push yourself up to your elbows and look at the window. There’s not green light but something worse. The window is broken. The jagged glass shines with moonlight as shards litter the floor. You sit up all the way and scramble around, unable to make sense through the darkness and your own sluggish perception.

You reach for the lamp and try to turn it on. On, off, on, off. You shake your head, trying to free yourself from the clouds, and stagger to your feet. You go to the wall and flip the switch for the overhead light. Nothing. The power must be out. You can’t even hear the hum of the fridge.

A tickle crawls into your throat and you cough. You smell smoke. You go to your desk and feel around for your phone. You wait for it to turn on as the dryness in your nose and throat build. You finally get the flashlight glowing on your cell and shine it around the room.

The haze isn’t in your mind. The apartment is filling with smoke. You pull your shirt up over your nose and cough again. Your eyes burn as you try to see through the fog. There’s a dark shape on the carpet spewing fumes. What the heck?

Adrenaline kicks in and instinct has you feet moving before you can think. You can’t breath. The smoke gets thicker as your eyes stream and you rack with coughs. You hit the door with your body, clawing at the lock, fingers aching as you twist back the latch. You waver as you step back, pulling the door inward and stumble into the hall.

Your feet hit the floor clumsily, flat and thumping, thunderous in the hue of night. You hack again, hand on your chest, and tumble to your knees. You grip your head as the strength drains from your body, seeping away little by little. Are you dying? Is this it?

You fall onto your side and suck in deep breaths. Your head lolls and your arm falls slack beside you. Your eyes roll up and a black silhouette appears above you. A tongue clicks and a whistle blows out.

“I didn’t want it to be like this, baby cakes,” the timbre skews in your ears as your lashes close, “don’t worry...” the world shifts beneath you, “daddy’s got you.”

👄

You don’t dream. You don’t think. You don’t feel. There is only endless black.

A sliver of light pierces the void. It's too bright. Painfully so. Your eyes slit and you peek out from beneath heavy eyelids. You don’t recognise those walls, the bed is too soft to be yours, and this place doesn’t smell familiar. You take a deep breath and force your eyes open.

Soft light glows through large panes to your left. The bed on which you lay is swathed in the dull tones of the morning rising just outside. You’re laid beneath blankets, several layers that make you sweat, and a cushy pillow cradles your head, many more litter the bed along the top. There’s too much of everything.

The ceiling and walls are black, the bed frame too, the silky and dark, with a fluffy zebra print throw across the foot. You can’t see much more as you lay on your back. You might not know where you are but you can certainly figure who brought you there.

On cue with your consciousness, the opposite the bed opens and you raise your head to watch a shadow enter. It reminds you of another figure, that one rippled with disorientation and impending darkness. He reaches to flip the switch beside the door and the two sconces mounted above the bet light up.

It’s him. It wouldn’t be anyone else. That stranger from the cafe. Your personal tormentor. The man who calls himself Lloyd and a litany of ridiculous names.

He stares back at you. You’re struck dumb with the dregs of you unconcscious and disbelief, meanwhile he looks almost giddy. A smile curves his lips under the line of hair and he rubs his palms together as he shifts his weight between his feet. He raises his hands appeasingly.

“Jellybean, before you scream, please hear me out,” he pleads.

You couldn’t scream if you tried. You’re too weak. This can’t be happening. Why would you be here? In a nice bed, in a nice room. You should be in some twisted torture chamber or out in the middle of the woods. If he’s going to kill you, he needs to at least be straightforward about.

He turns and strides over to another door; a closet. He slides it open and tuts as he browses the contents. You can’t see past him. You barely even try as you let your head fall back against the pillow.

“So, thoughts?” He turns to face you again as he holds up two hangers, “the navy is cute. I like the polka dots and the see throughness here and here, but the pink would bring out your complexion.”

Your eyes flit down and you gape at the two dresses, one in each hand. You shake your head and blink. You bring a hand up and touch your forehead, a grumble slipping free.

“You’re right, jellybean, it’s late,” he turns to put the dresses back in the closet, “we can deal with that in the morning. It’s not too far away... just a few hours.”

He nears the bed and you shrink down, curling your shoulders in as you fold your arms over the blankets. He lowers himself next to you, an elbow in the pillows as he peers down at you. He reaches to touch your cheek and you try to move away. He barely seems to notice as he strokes your face.

“I’ve just been so excited I can’t sleep,” he drags his knuckle around lightly, “but I didn’t want to wake you up. You need to rest. After everything you’ve been through.” He brings his legs up onto the bed and wiggles down to his side, “I know you don’t take care of yourself like you should, baby face, but that’s okay, because you have me now.”

“Why... are you doing this?” You wisp out.

He laughs, “you’re so funny...” he pets your chin, “and cute and...” he trails his hand down and squeezes your shoulder, “small. You’re adorable.”

“Please,” you groan.

“Why am I doing what?” He asks coyly, “why am I taking care of you? Why am I ready to give you everything? Why am I dying just to hear your voice and see your face and...” he stops and leans in, giving a deep sniff, “smell your hair?”

You want to shrivel up. Your lip quivers as the daze recedes and the fear sets in. He’s delusional and you have no way out. You don’t even know where you are. It hardly matters, you doubt you could get very far.

“You’re right. We should sleep. We have tomorrow to get settled in,” he reaches back to flip the light switch next to the bed, dimming the sconces back to black.

He lifts himself to free the blankets from beneath him and sidles under them. He nestles close as you go rigid. He slips his arm under you as he nuzzles your cheek.

“And every day after that. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us, jellybean. Me and you. Together forever...” he stretches his other arm over your stomach, “I never liked fairy tales before, babes. Not til you.”

You close your eyes. You’re tired but there’s no way you’re falling back asleep. This is a waking nightmare.

👄

The man, Lloyd, starts to snore. You feel his muscles relax and feel his breath steady against you. As much as you want to push him away and run, you can’t. You don’t know what it is. It’s akin to sleep paralysis. You’re awake but you can’t fight what’s happening. Something in your mind tells you it’s futile.

The sun rise on the other side of the large windows. In any other circumstance, you would admire a place like this. The sleek furniture, the luxurious blankets, the expansive view. It’s a far cry from your cramped apartment and its small windows.

You can only wallow in helpless self-pity. How did this happen? How did you let it happen? If you hadn’t been so indulgent, you would’ve never been seen. You should’ve known better than to go down to that cafe and splurge on something so menial. You could have made your own tea. You could’ve stayed inside, stayed safe.

His closeness has you sweating. It’s uncomfortable and itchy. You want to rip your skin off.

He moves and you hold your breath. He’s waking up. That can’t be good. At least asleep, he can’t do much. You curl your fingers into your palm and wait.

“Mmm,” he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against your cheek before planting a kiss, his mustache tickles, “this is heaven. I can’t...” he pushes himself up, planting his hand on the mattress, “I can’t believe this is real. You’re really here.”

You look at him, almost glaring as you let your distress burn through. He doesn’t even notice as he rubs your arm and his blue eyes dance over you. Laying next to him as he looms over you, his size is more obvious. He’s much bigger than you.

“Coffee?” He asks, “I got this new dark roast. All the way from Colombia. I haven’t even tried it. I’ve been waiting on you. Bet it’s much better than that InstaCafe.”

You blink at him. All your fears are coming true. It’s not that he’s snatched you, it that he’s been watching you. You might never know how long but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change this moment.

“And breakfast, if you’re hungry. I know you usually skip that but--”

“Please stop,” you croak, “please...”

“What? Honey, I’m just trying to show you all I can do for you. You don’t have to do all the work anymore. Staring at a screen is bad for your eyes. And your posture.”

“I... I didn’t mind...”

“Ah, that’s just you. You’re a hard worker. Resilient. You do what needs to be done. You don’t complain and you don’t make demands. Baby, you don’t have to. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you without you even asking.”

“I liked... being alone. I want to be alone,” your breath hitches between words as panic pulses in your chest.

“Do you want to be alone or do you not know what it’s like to have someone? Jellybean, I’m scared too. You’re the first girl I’ve had in my bed that made it past dawn. Hell, the first girl I didn’t... you know,” he gives a crooked grin.

Your lips part as you stare at him, dumbfounded. Sure, he didn’t do more than forcibly cuddle you but it doesn’t change what he did do. You shake your head and sputter as you search for words.

“You followed me.”

“I kept you safe,” he insists.

“You turned my water off. I...”

“That’s what the IV is for,” he reaches over to touch your other arm. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the tubing before. “I brought you tea. All you had to do was open up--”

“You threw something through my window... there was smoke...” your lashes flutter as the memories creep back in.

“I did what had to be done,” his grin falls away and his expression turns stony, “what you made me do.”

You stare at him, speechless.

“I haven’t given you any reason not to trust you. I mean, all you had to do was have a coffee with me. Or even open your door. Honey, I should be mad at you. You hung me out to dry but I can forgive you,” his face softens again, “how can I not?” His eyes go doey, “you’re so beautiful.”

You lay there, unmoving. You feel as if any suddenness might trigger him. He traces along your cheek and jaw and down your neck, “did you decide?”

You narrow your eyes and frown.

“A dress? Blue or pink?”

You don’t answer him. You just look at him as he continues to touch you. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as a chill rolls through you.��

“You know what, neither. I get it. You want something more classy. Yeah, given the occasion, I think you’re right, baby face,” he leans over you and looks you in the eye, “we’ll have a look in the closet after breakfast.”

Before you can react, his lips are on yours. You let out a surprised squeak as he holds your chin in place. His mustache tickles you again and his tongue flits across your lips, wetting them just slightly before retracting. He pulls away and sighs.

“Wow.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the gray man #the quiet ones

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frost-queen · 4 months

Text

Falling leaves (Reader x Prince Zuko)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers , @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly ,@denkisclown , @wildieflower ,@meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07 , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury , @imagines-by-her , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m , @sweetheartlizzie07

Summary: Lu Ten and you used to be engaged untill the news fell upon you of his death. After Lu Ten's death, grow Zuko and you closer. Eventually falling for each other, but remaining too guilty in honour of Lu Ten. Yet a simple nudge of Iroh eases Zuko in the right direction.

Anxiously you were pacing around in your room. Unable to sleep. Barely even attempted to go to bed when you had such a heavy weight on you. Something was occurring. You could sense it. Ever since Lu Ten has been called out to war, you’ve had nothing but restless sleep. Yet this was different. Mostly you could call asleep at some point.

Now you simply couldn’t. Afraid that if you might go to sleep, you might miss something of importance. There hadn’t been recent notes from him for days now as it started to worry you. Pacing around as your thumb rested between your teeth. Trying, hoping there would be news from him.

Yet deep down, you feared that if you might receive news, it wouldn’t be the best news. Your feet having walked countless steps. Simply going back and forth. It had become a routine, you would do mindlessly. Feet never seeming to tire out.

The candles were almost burned out. But a little stomp with the smallest of flames. Their nature light having dimmed the room. Anxiety rose as you so hoped there wouldn’t be any news. Hoping that Lu Ten was alright and would return from war. If not for the sake of you, then for the sake of his father Iroh. Countless more steps you did. Not once tired.

The sound of sudden knock on the door made you stop. Staring still at that cold door. Swallowing nervously, you blinked rapidly to keep your emotions down. – “Yes.” – you spoke watching as the door opened. You had expected an officer, a soldier, anyone but not him. Iroh came in sight as he pushed the door further open. His gaze kept on the ground. It was enough.

You inhaled deep with a shiver, lip trembling. Iroh entered, closing the door behind him. – “Y/n…” – he started unable to lift his gaze up to you. You noticed a piece of parchment in his hand, slightly hidden behind his back. – “I…my son…” – he said finally lifting his gaze up to you. Eyes glossy with hidden tears.

You bowed your head to him, pressing your lips together to silence your cry. Iroh noticed how you haven’t even prepared to go to bed. Still in full attire as if you had been waiting for any news. Iroh moved his hand with the letter in it, trembling to the front. – “My son…” – he repeated too much of a burden to speak the words. You went down on your knees, laying down, bowing the lowest to him. Iroh sniffled touched by your gesture of respect.

“My deepest apologies to you Y/n.” – Iroh spoke as it made you lift your head up. – “You lost a son.” – you replied not wanting him to apologize to you. There was no need for him to apologize to you. Not while he was grieving so much of his son. – “You lost a love.” – he answered, moving his hands togethers to bow at you. Getting up, you walked up to him. Cherishing your hands under his to lift him up.

Make him stand up straight once more. – “I bow to you.” – you friendly scolded him with a saddened smile. Iroh smiled faintly back at you. He then retired to his own quarters to grief for his son whoever he pleased. The moment he left, you felt yourself unbalance. Wobbly on your feet as it made you bump against the cabinet.

Hand brought up to your mouth, to deafen out your sobs. For your fiancé Lu Ten had lost his life in battle. The shock finally entering your body like an explosion. Shaking you to your core as it made every fibre in you tremble. Tremble as you let out a scream of agony. Scream so loud it died out to grasp for air followed by loud sobs and cries.

The very ground from underneath your feet caved away. For that night and many more nights they would be sleepless. The news of Lu Ten’s passing roamed quickly through the palace. The ceremony in honour of Lu Ten came three days later. Giving Iroh the time to grief alone and in silence. Lu Ten’s ceremony was peaceful. Iroh sat down. Three more empty chairs beside him.

You stood upright to his right. Hands folded together. Many of those who came to pay their respects, only had eyes for Iroh and his grief. Bowing to him without a word. You didn’t need the attention as you were but Lu Ten’s to be bride.

Prince Zuko paid his respects to Lu Ten. He then paused in front of his uncle. Bowing to him as well. For a moment he was about to move on, till he decided to stay. Iroh’s gaze slowly going up as he noticed Zuko had lingered. No one else took the time to linger. – “When my studies weren’t going well and father was unhappy.” – Zuko began looking humble at the ground.

“Lu Ten gave me this.” – Iroh’s gaze went down to Zuko’s hand. Clearly holding something hidden in his palm. – “He won it for finishing first in his officers class. He said it should belong to someone destined to do great things.” – Zuko continued as Iroh recognized it. – “It gave me strength.” – Zuko spoke with clarity. With a soft breath, he knelt down, taking his uncle’s hand to place the medal in his hand.

Zuko rose once more. – “Lu Ten didn’t needed it.” – he spoke looking back at his uncle. – “Because he was the strongest person I knew.” – Zuko finished with a caring smile. His uncle closed his hand on the medal, blinking a few tears away. Zuko then surprisingly turned to you. Holding his hands together to give you a bow.

It made you blink surprised as he was the first person to acknowledge your pain too. – “He loved you very much Y/n.” – Zuko said to you before coming to sit next to his uncle. Showing his gratitude and support to his uncle in his grieving. After the ceremony, you excused yourself from everyone. Heading up to the balcony. Arms resting on the railing as you let the breeze blow your tears away.

You didn’t notice someone approaching till you felt a presence near you. – “Prince Zuko.” – you said surprised, turning to bow at him. Zuko held his hand up with a sheepish smile. – “Please Y/n.” – he said not wanting you to threat him so stiffly as all the others did. With a simple nod, you accepted it. – “What you did for your uncle was very warmly.” – you told him gazing at the view. Zuko came resting his arms on the railing beside you.

“I am sorry not one of them acknowledged your pain, Y/n.” – Zuko said with sympathy. – “It is quite alright.” – you replied in a soft tone. – “It is not.” – Zuko answered with fierceness. – “You loved Lu Ten. You have every right to be threated with respect.” – you could see that he was getting a bit worked up over it. It made you chuckle a bit.

Zuko curled up a smile as well from seeing you light up. – “Thank you.” – you whispered out, feeling as if your heart was lighter. Zuko moved his hand to his chest, bowing to you. You turned back to the scenery, breathing deep. – “I shall leave you now…” – Zuko began with a gesture, already turning his posture away. – “Please!” – you called out making him stop his action. – “Stay.” – you finished sweetly, not wanting to be alone.

Zuko moved back beside you, remaining quiet as he enjoyed the scenery with you. He stayed with you until it grew too cold. Zuko led you back inside, for you to seek out warmth once more. Zuko bowed his head when he had guided you up to your quarters. You bend through your knees to curtsy at him. Zuko kept smiling at you as you closed the door on him. Surprisingly that night you slept well. The moment your head hit the pillow, you dreamed off.

As the sun rose once more, were you greeted by Prince Zuko once more. Waiting for you in the hallways to join you. Give you comfort and set your mind of your grief. It was nice to share more than tears. Zuko and you started to share small talk. Speak about the most simplest of things to get your minds off it. There was still time for grieving, but there were also moments of joy.

As the leaves changed Zuko and you grew closer to each other. Having spend so many time together it was almost impossible to not share a moment together a day. Zuko was once again waiting for you. – “Y/n there you are!” – he exclaimed, taking your hand to pull you along. – “Zuko do you not have studies?” – you questioned. – “Finished early.” – he breathed out, tugging more on you to hurry up.

You raised your eyebrow questionable up to him. Zuko placed his hand on yours that he was still holding. – “Oh come on Y/n. You know what an excellent student I am.” – he let out, making you laugh loud. Zuko led you outside to the pond. – “You should not neglect your studies. Your sister does not.” – you told him.

Zuko groaned soft. – “Can we please not talk about Azula.” – he answered with a bothered expression. – “Alright.” – you gave in moving your hand up. In the pond was a little family of turtle duck as you awed at them. – “Would you like to feed them?” – Zuko proposed already revealing some bread. You looked at him, how clearly he had foreseen this. Zuko shrugged his shoulders, giving you a piece of bread.

You started breaking it into smaller bits, tossing it into the pond. The turtle ducks swam over to it, nibbling on the bread. One of the little one’s bit at the bread, using a bit too much force as he dipped down, head first in the water. It made you laugh soft at how cute that looked. Hearing you laugh made Zuko smile. You started to throw more bread in the pond as Zuko kept giving you crumbled bread to toss.

“Neglecting your studies for low life pets?” – A sharp voice came through making you gasp. – “What do you want Azula!” – Zuko said firm standing in front of you. – “Oh zuzu you humour me.” – Azula responded with a sneer. – “Perhaps you should keep feeding stupid ducks, for I’ll be sure to out do you soon enough… oh wait. I already did.” – she finished with a devilish chuckle. Zuko got tense as he wanted to have a go at her, but you stopped him.

Knowing Azula wasn’t worth it. – “Right have our cousin’s hand me down keep you tamed Zuzu.” – Azula mocked making you clench your jaw. – “Do not speak about Y/n like that!” – Zuko called out. It only seemed to amuse Azula more. – “I shall speak to her how I like!” – Azula shouted back, readying herself. Zuko’s eyes widened when he saw his sister create fire. Sending it towards the two of you.

Zuko wrapped his arms around you, pushing you to the side as he dove with you to the ground. Azula’s fire blowing over your heads. Azula laughed manically before taking her leave. – “Are… are you alright Y/n?” – Zuko questioned, lifting his head up as he suddenly noticed how close he was to your face. You nodded with a soft hum staring with wide eyes at him. Zuko’s eyes flicked briefly down to your lips as did yours.

Heart pounding louder as your eyes got drawn to his lips once more. Wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. For over the past few months that you had been spending more with him, you started to fall in love with Zuko. The sound of your heart beating got overwhelming as in this moment you wanted him to kiss you. The thought seemed to have crossed his mind as well. He moved his head a bit down, already tilting it to the side, slowly closing his eyes.

You felt his breath tickle your lips, anticipating the kiss. – “I…I shouldn’t.” – Zuko said pulling himself away. You got up as well, nodding. – “We shouldn’t.” – you responded, feeling guilty. Guilty for betraying Lu Ten. Zuko helped you up to your feet as you didn’t speak a word. Leaving in separate ways, too ashamed for ruining the memory of Lu Ten.

Zuko made his way into the palace, sighing deep. – “Nephew!” – Iroh’s stern voice came through, startling Zuko. – “Uncle.” – he spoke surprised. – “Were you just outside with Y/n?” – he asked. – “No…yes… I mean…” – Zuko stuttered out not sure how to respond to this. Zuko exhaled deep. – “I know I spend too much time with her and I am sorry for it uncle. I won’t let it happen again.”

Iroh furrowed his brows. – “And why would you want to do that?” – he questioned again. – “Because…” – Zuko started trying to make it obvious without hurting his uncle’s feelings. Iroh picked up on it, chuckling deep. – “If you worry about me do not. I see how the two of you are around each other. You smile more nephew. I like to see you more smile.” – Iroh said with a nudge at Zuko.

“I…I don’t understand uncle.” – Zuko responded confused. Iroh chuckled once more, laying a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. – “If you worry about me do not. I would want nothing more than my favourite nephew to be happy with Y/n.” – he teased him. – “I am your only nephew.” – Zuko joked making Iroh laugh loud. – “Go on.” – Iroh gave Zuko another nudge back in the direction of the gardens. Zuko smiled, hugging his uncle before running back outside to look for you.

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courtingchaos · 1 year

Note

Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem Reader #My Work #My Fic #asks!#THIS BITCH IS 6K????? since fuckin when 😩

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holybibly · 6 months

Note

The way I had a dream years ago almost the exact same as your park twins but with a different idol-

The innocent looking one and the seductive one being the vice versa of each other in bed

I'm foaming at the mouth

(I want to leave an emoji but I'm also a silent reader--)

Oh, sweet baby, I have a sense of my bunnies on a telepathic level, don't I? We just can't seem to get enough of Seonghwa and I'm totally happy with it. As promised, I'll be making a full piece for the Park twins, but while I'm at it, here's a little treat for you.

I was going to post this yesterday, but I'm going to do it today instead. Double the fun for you bunnies 🐰🐰

Our Sugar Weekend begins

It was hard to tear them away from you, even for a second, from the night you found yourself in the Park twins' bed, sandwiched between two hot and insatiable bodies.

You had always assumed that Hwaseong was a sex addict with an eternal and desperate need to fuck. But Seonghwa—that gentle, sweet Seonghwa whose eyes seemed to shine with all the stars of the universe—became a real surprise to you. The boy was demonic. Even the most innocent of kisses was enough to turn him on, and after a few seconds, you found yourself trapped in the bodies, hands, and lips of the Park twins.

A thin veil of sweat shimmered over your heated skin, and your chest rose and fell with breathless moans as you melted away under the endless caresses of the tireless twins.

The film night quickly turned into a session of hot kisses, and as a result, you found yourself where you were—your head resting on the soft headboard of a luxurious plush sofa, as Seonghwa straddled your chest. Your small hands were barely able to grasp your plump, heavy tits and squeeze them together so that he could slide his thick, long cock into the soft, cosy space between them. The twins were obsessed with your tits, constantly touching, biting, kissing, and licking them, and when you jokingly said they could fuck them, the sweet creature didn't think twice before climbing on top of you.

Even now, Seonghwa was angelic in appearance; his hair was soft and slightly curly, gleaming in the dim light of the room. His mouth was parted with sensual moans; his lips were wet and swollen from kissing, sweat glistening on his golden skin. Damn, he was mesmerising.

Hwaseong stood beside you, slowly stroking his magnificent cock, enjoying the sight of Seonghwa using your tits for his pleasure. He looked so fucked, his make-up smeared from all the kisses and heated caresses you had shared, his cat-like eyes clouded with need and desire, his lips glistening from the saliva his tongue had smeared over the soft, plump flesh. Hwaseong might look like a real demon on the outside, but in bed he was a desperate, horny kitten, eager to please you. He was obedient and gentle, unlike Seonghwa, who would bite you until you were bleeding and fuck you until you were unconscious.

From time to time, Hwaseong would brush his swollen, leaking cockhead across your lips. He would stain them with the shimmering viscosity of his pre-cum, leaving them shiny and wet. Every time your little tongue would stick out to taste it and lick his delicious-looking cock, he would pull away and deny you that pleasure, his eyes shining with pleasure at the temporary, fleeting power he now had over you, knowing that his brother had you pinned down and you couldn't gain control over him for the moment.

Seonghwa distracted you from the exquisite torment of his twin by placing his large, dainty hands over your small ones, helping you to press those hot, soft mounds of flesh closer together.

This made your tits massage his thick length even better with every thrust of his hips, causing Seonghwa to moan loudly and throw his head back so that you could enjoy the sight of his long neck covered in hickeys. It was moments like this that made you damn grateful to their parents for having given you not one but two damn attractive boys who, among other things, were mirrored in each other.

You could tell that Seonghwa was about to fall into the frenzy of his orgasm by the increasing speed of his movements and the slight twitching of his hips. And damned, every time he cum, his face was just unbelievable.

Excited by the idea of making him cum faster, you turned your head away from Hwaseong, tilting it down instead so that you could lick Seonghwa's cock every time the head of his cock appeared above the top of your breasts.

"More; I need more of it." Seonghwa moaned over you as your tongue slid over the head of his cock. The feeling of his cock sliding in the wet, warm space between your breasts was enough to send him to heaven. In combination with your tongue, it almost drove him crazy.

Hwaseong ran his fingers through your hair and gently pulled your head down to help you take Seonghwa's cock deep into your throat. With his other hand, he was pumping his own cock furiously. The moaning and the wet, slippery sounds you made together filled the entire room of the penthouse, plunging you even deeper into the intoxicating pleasure.

Hwaseong's hips moved closer and closer to your face, close enough to finally allow you to lick the bittersweet liquid that was pouring out of his beautiful slit and onto the head of his cock. Your tongue caressed both of them, tracing the length of their cocks and licking them with devoted passion as you swallowed every drop of the pre-cum that they offered you.

Just as you had expected, Seonghwa moaned loudly and long, throwing his head back even more and arching his back as his cock exploded in the crushing embrace of your tits. It decorated you with ribbons of milky fluid all the way from your plump and soft chest to your neck.

It didn't take long for Hwaseong to orgasm, either.

He aimed his cock at your pretty face, smearing your features with his cum as he watched the viscous fluid slowly flow down your flushed, glistening skin.

You breathed deeply, trying to catch your breath from the intense pleasure your body was experiencing, and although covered in their cum, you felt beautiful and wanted. Seonghwa got off you and pulled you into his arms before you could enjoy the warmth of their sticky cum.

Hwaseong's arms wrapped around your waist as he lowered his face down to your breasts, obediently licking the fluid from Seonghwa's skin until your tits and throat were glistening with his saliva instead of sticky, milky cum. Simultaneously, Seonghwa gently cupped the back of your head with his hand, turning your face towards him, and licked Hwaseong's cum from your cheeks and lips with equal tenderness, turning the lewd act into something sweet and adoring.

Satisfied that you were clean, the twins pulled you into an insatiable, carnivorous kiss as you clung to each other like kittens in heat, your hands touching each other. All of this was just a prelude to the real action, and you could already feel the hot touch of Seonghwa's fingers as they slid over your pussy and slowly began to stimulate you. Hwaseong's dick was already noticeably hard against your thigh.

Seonghwa and Hwaseong's insatiable sexual appetite might have been hard for some to handle. But you were more than happy to be their pleasure whenever they wanted.

#sugar weekend #ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader

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moodymisty · 2 months

Note

Hiii!!! I LOVE everything you write since I followed you a long time ago. I would like to read something about Rogal Dorn. I can't find ANYTHING about him and i just can't stop thinking about him.

I don't mind if it's smut, whatever you feel confortable with, but if it can have a little bit of fluff i would LOVE It.

Thank you for everything.💞

Author's note: Ok so I am deciding to do an idea i have for awhile, that I believe someone else posted but I cannot remember who. anyhoo, enjoy. Perhaps it's not as fluffy as you might have wanted, but fluffy Dorn is sort of awkward, nice Dorn so I hope you still like it;;

Relationships: Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader (reader is a remembrancer)

Warnings: Perturabo calls you a whore but other than that nothing really of note

"I never did thank you properly for all of the clothes, Lord Dorn."

You look up at him, golden armor still shining in the relative dimness of the bridge- to only get a light nod of his head in response.

Inwit is freezing, unfathomably cold, and the clothes you had worn previously on Olympia failed to cut it. That had been a very quick, and very upsetting realization. Dorn had- in his stalwart silence - requisitioned you more only a few days later. Many more, custom-made. They were lined with warm furs and comfortable, built for hard winds and ice, trapping your body heat close to you. You had taken some of the layers off since you were arriving to Terra, a planet with a much more tempered climate. You don't miss the burning of your cheeks and frozen snot, but you do miss the planet overall.

Terra... Coming here makes you nervous. You know who is going to be here. Take a few deep, self-assuring breaths before looking in Dorn's general direction. The large glass viewport at the front of the bridge illuminates most of the floor, casting you all in a variety of colors.

"Lord Dorn, may I ask you a question about something?"

He turns to you, looking down at your hesitant expression.

"Did Perturabo make you beg permission to speak to him? Just ask it."

He did, more often than not. You remember more than a few instances.

"Well, he was actually going to be what I wanted to ask about."

You twisted your wrists in your hands, trying to do some sort of fidget to focus on while Dorn had his full attention on you.

"Has he always hated you? The entire time I was in his company, there was always just undertone of pure, seething hatred for you, but whenever I saw you, you didn't seem to even care."

There are a few other Imperial Fists on the bridge, watching as Terra comes into view. You're in the process of getting caught by the planet's orbit and mooring close enough to come down to the surface. You can see the palace already, even from this far, a golden target that is still growing larger with each day.

"Perturabo has always been that way, yes."

Dorn turns to briefly give an order to a questioning Imperial Fist, before returning to you and his explanation.

"He sees competition in my existence. I don't care."

Polux approaches, choosing to stand on your opposing side and wait patiently for his moment to speak. You give him a brief smile as greeting before returning your eyes to his primarch. Dorn looks forward and out the viewport, watching the palace of his design inch closer and closer.

"Sanguinius and Horus' rivalry is even matched. They both find growth from it. Perturabo's rivalry with me is a childish urge to beat me into the ground and prove to everyone that he is better."

You don't disagree with him in even the slightest. Perturabo was always so desperate to beat Dorn above all else, even to the detriment of other facets of his life.

"Despite the fact that he isn't?"

Dorn looks at you fully again, eyebrows raised and you swear, you swear, the inkling of a smile on his face.

"You have spent more time with him than I. Do you think that?" He turns on his heel slightly, armor shifting and clanking against eachother to face you more.

"Do you think The Emperor was right in claiming me Praetorian over him?"

You've been with the Imperial fists for a few months now, and this is far from the first time you've spoken to Dorn. Far more than you ever interacted with Perturabo, despite the fact that Dorn is known for being tight lipped and humorless.

You nod.

"Yes, I do. Perturabo's plans are always so complex, and he hinges them and his entire self worth on being better than you. And when he fails, he sulks." You smile. "I don't imagine you or your sons to be the type to sit and pout if something went wrong. You would all be too busy trying to correct it."

Dorn looks down at you, face as stoic and frozen as you've become quite used to. You don't know entirely what he's thinking, but you don't get a chance to ask before someone else's voice interrupts you.

Polux has a younger astartes walk up to him, stating some information that flows in one ear and out the other for you before walking away. He turns to the both of you, looking two his primarch but referring to the both of you.

"My lord, we are ready to depart for the palace. Is she accompanying us?"

You've never stepped foot on Terra before, to even come into it's orbit is an idea that you could barely handle; Alongside the fact that the primarch and his captains have little need for you there. You gather yourself, preparing to return to the Librarium aboard the ship to continue your work before Dorn's voice stops you in your tracks and sends almost every emotion through you at once.

"She is. Let us go."

Your first time on Terra was going well, in the first hour or so.

Dorn isn't much of a communicator, so he has spent the long of it conversing with his men, giving orders even while not aboard his ship. Either orders given to send back to the Phalanx, or to the Imperial Fists on Terra assisting with the Palace construction. You stand idly by and occasionally draw, or write something down that interests you.

The smoothness stops however, when Dorn looks away abruptly. His sons are confused, before they also perk up not a moment later. You look to Polux, as you know he's the one who will most likely acquiesce to your questions.

"What is it?" You say. He tilts his head vaguely in your direction, but doesn't actually look at you.

"Primarch Perturabo is on his way. He must've heard we had arrived," Polux takes a breath, presumably steeling himself for whatever is to come.

"His... footsteps are quite loud." Not a few more moments later now even you can hear them, and then see him shortly thereafter.

Perturabo storms closer; You can tell by the red flush over his tanned skin, that he is beyond furious.

Dorn looks down at you, and points behind him. His voice leaves no room for question, not as if you would even considering doing so in the first place.

"Go to Vulkan."

The Salamander's primarch had finished speaking to Dorn not long ago, now standing across the massive open area that you presumed served as a training ground for the astartes. You do as your now primarch commands and rush towards him, feeling his eyes on him as you approach.

"I am terribly sorry to bother you Lord Vulkan, but My lord Dorn told me to-" He ushers you closer with a hand, his voice gentle despite his overwhelming size.

"I am well aware of your circumstances, and what is more than likely about to play out. You can stay here with me."

You take refuge close to the Salamander's primarch, both standing and watching as Perturabo confronts Dorn. Multiple of his Imperial Fists straighten up and hold themselves at the ready, prepared to fight for their primarch if it ever be needed.

"Dorn!"

A disrespectful finger points his way, but Dorn pays it no mind. The white fabric of Perturabo's Olympian clothes flow softly and comfortably in the gentle wing, in contrast to the sharp, unforgiving features of his face.

"You think you can just steal from me now? Are you truly so bold now that you're praetorian?"

Dorn only speaks up when Perturabo is close enough that he doesn't have to yell.

"She wanted to leave."

Dorn speaks plainly, bluntly, as if he's just totally uncaring of the conversation.

You've learned over time that Dorn is far from emotionless; He merely doesn't waste it on things he deems pointless. This is pointless, and so he only speaks with the most blunt, monotone voice. It pisses Perturabo off to an unfathomable degree.

To think he was so upset about your departure without his dismissal. He had been nothing but cold and cruel to you, despite the fact that you were merely there to document his legion's progresses.

"I don't care what she wanted. She was indebted to my legion, and I will not tolerate deserters no matter how useless I think they are,"

Perturabo yells. Once his frustration at Dorn is exhausted enough that his attention can be deviated, he turns his gaze to you.

It feels like the gravity of a planet is pushing down onto you, the sheer weight of his anger. Even from so far away. Even the weight of Primarch Vulkan's hand on your shoulder does nothing to shield you from it.

"I hope you heard me, you lying, traitorous little whore. I hope you know I'll wring your neck myself when I catch you."

It takes every bit of energy to avoid crumbling instantly, at the threat of a primarch. Thankfully he leaves shortly after, storming off with the flowing white fabric of his clothes flowing behind him.

Vulkan sighs. You think he said something to reassure you, but you can't hear it over the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"I truly don't think there is much we can do to change him." Corvus- whom you've only just realized was here the entire time with a startle upon hearing his voice - shakes his head.

"His desire to be superior is tripped up at every point by his insufferable personality."

Vulkan looks down at you as an Imperial Fist approaches.

"Are you alright?" He says, and the caring nature of it is a bit overwhelming.

"I, I hope so." Vulkan doesn't laugh, but there is a softness on his face as he smiles at you. Corvus simply watches, and you once again realized that he was there.

"We all know Dorn. He has mentioned you quite a bit,"

"For him," Corvus adds. Vulkan gives him a quick look before turning back to you.

"I do not think he would ever allow anything to happen to you."

The reassurance of a primarch is a feeling next to none; But so it's the threat of one. They both battle in your heart and soul as the Imperial Fist reaches you.

"Lord Dorn is going to have one of us escort you back to the ship."

You nod, looking up to Vulkan to thank him. He simply smiles and speaks before you have a chance to give any gratitude.

"Stay safe, little one."

You follow that Imperial Fist back, before he leaves you on your own close to your quarters. Once you get into them, the door shutting behind you with a hiss, your chest starts to tighten like something has a hold on it.

Every Iron Warrior now likely knows that Perturabo wants your head on a pike. You try to steady your breathing, dumping your papers onto your small desk and sitting on the edge of your bed with a soft thud.

It's getting harder to breath, you swallow a massive knot in your throat. You try to shake your leg, dig your fingers into your palms to stop the feeling, like your heart is going to explode, the thumping of blood in your ears-

It starts to level down after awhile, the room steadies and no longer is spinning. Once that happens, the tears actually start to come, and you keep trying to wipe them away each time a few fall.

You don't regret leaving the Iron Warriors; Olympia. You don't know what Dorn saw in you that was enough for him to offer you a place but you don't regret taking it. His legion's treatment of you compared to your time on Olympia was incomparable, but the petty nature you had witnessed from the primarch was now focused on you; Your betrayal of fleeing to Dorn.

You have your arms wrapped around yourself, tightening them as someone opens your door. Your momentary startle fades when you realize who it is.

It's Dorn. You don't know when his presence stopped being so intimidating, even as a primarch; Perhaps it's the time you've spent with him recently that has gotten you used to him.

"You have been crying."

It would surely be easy to tell- you can still fear the wetness of tears on your face. You take a deep breath and clear your throat to try and speak normally.

"Primarch Perturabo wants my beaten corpse at his feet, and I don't, I don't know what to do-"

He comes closer, face neutral and stoic. You try and contain the emotion on your face.

Stupid, all of it, is what Perturabo would've said to you. You were always a stupid, pointless inconvenience forced upon him. But yet one he was still so upset to see leave.

"I knew very well how he would behave when I offered you a place here. I will not allow him to harm you."

In his own, odd way, the sentence calms you. It's not a lie, it is the utmost truth put into blunt, simple words. You sniffle and unwrap your arms from around yourself, returning to some level of normalcy.

"Thank you..." You say, and Dorn- to your surprise - kneels.

"Do not thank me for something I should do. I put you in this predicament and made you an enemy of him."

Dorn is quiet for a moment. You look at him questioningly, but he doesn't seem to notice. Then suddenly a hand rests heavy on your shoulder, and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

It's only a split second, it's chaste and quick, and he pulls away as a string of spit snaps between you both. You barely even have a chance to process it all; A primarch just kissed you. You had liked him, but you firmly pushed those thoughts from your mind for the sheer absurdity of them.

“You shouldn’t cry.” At first you think he’s telling you not to be weak- To suck it up.

“I, should not have allowed him to speak to you that way. I allowed him to make you cry.”

Crying is nothing; the fact that he has said he would protect you from an enraged primarch that by all intents and purposes you betrayed, is more than worth its weight. You don’t care about the crying.

"I'll be fine. I just needed a minute, and," You laugh. "Hopefully that's the last time I ever see his face." Dorn doesn't smile, but his voice has a gentle tilt of amusement that makes you smile a bit wider.

"I admit I would be jealous of you if that were to be the case."

You don't envy that he will have to continue to deal with Perturabo, especially now that your presence has created a deeper rift. Alongside his duties as Praetorian.

Dorn rises up from his knee and reaches out a hand.

"I am going to speak to my men about progress of the Palace walls. Come with me."

You take his hand, and you expect him to just allow you to pull yourself up, but instead he wraps his fingers around it and holds your hand, guiding you out of your room. He lets go moments after, but the gesture was there none the less.

#primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #rogal dorn x reader #reader #reader insert #mywriting

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theodorecanaryhood · 7 months

Text

The Apartment Upstairs

Jason Todd (left) x Male reader

Warning: swearing and sexual references

It was a quiet night for the streets, which made a huge change. Jason tiredly strolled down the hallway as he reached his apartment door.

He heard shuffling upstairs which was strange due to it being coming up so late, but he was too tired to care.

The next day, Jason spent time catching up on some Netflix. He was finding it hard to focus a little as there was some small banging from upstairs.

Jason opened his apartment door as he listened out, hearing someone shifting boxes and such upstairs.

Mr McGregor used to live in 13b, but he was admitted to a nursing home after suffering from dementia.

The countless times Jason used to find Mr McGregor trying to break into Jason’s apartment, thinking it was his own.

The times he would have to remind Mr McGregor it was a Sunday and no post or packages were coming, or that it wasn’t 1984 anymore. Jason used to get called Patrick, which was Mr McGregor’s brother.

Jason always felt sad for the older man, used to play along as to not cause too much confusion or frustration.

‘Hey’ Jason smiled as he saw his neighbour, a young blonde woman.

‘Hey Jason’ she responded, sitting through her baby things, starting to show a little.

Her husband came up behind and handed her a little bag, filled with baby clothes.

Jason smiled as he watched the interaction, and the possibility of another neighbour being lost. A one bedroom apartment wouldn’t be ideal for a newborn.

The laundry room was always dim, smelled funny and was always full. Rarely in the years that Jason lived here, he’d never seen the laundry room empty of clothes.

The machine going on a rampage as it cleaned all of Jason’s clothes, a male figure appeared in the room.

Jason knew just about everyone that lived in this building, advantage of being home all day most days.

Your petite figure was what caught Jason’s eyes first, your h/c hair and e/c eyes. Jason towered over most people, you seemed no exception.

You didn’t speak to Jason, nor did you introduce yourself. You both finished in the laundry room at the same time, Jason seeing as you went up to apartment 13b.

‘Guess he’s my new neighbour’ Jason mumbled to himself.

There was a silence that always filled the halls at this time, however, there was a small argument occurring.

Jason heard it was coming from above, figuring it was coming from you.

Jason made his way upstairs and saw as his new neighbour was throwing clothes at another man he’d never met.

‘Get out’ you shouted as the door shut in his face, the stranger picking up his clothes off the floor as he hurried away.

Jason locked eyes with the stranger, him being red in the face as he avoided contact with your neighbours.

A day must’ve passed, Jason kept thinking about what happened the day before. The entertainment was often. Something by had been happening almost everyday since you moved in.

‘Fuck’ Jason gasped as he saw water coming from his ceiling.

There was a sudden knock on the door, Jason went over and opened it. Only to see you, red in the face and seemingly flushed.

‘Hey, so sorry to bother you. I have a burst pipe and had to shut off my water before it gets worse, just wanted to ask if you have any damage?’ You asked, Jason nodded a little.

‘It just started pissing down, I thought it might be from upstairs’ Jason smiled a little.

You sighed a little as you revealed the wrench in your hand, probably from doing work.

‘I’m so sorry, I hope it didn’t cause too much. I’m happy to pay for any damage’ you offered, Jason shaking his head.

‘No, no it’s fine really. I needed to paint my ceilings. This has just given me some motivation’ Jason joked as the two of you laughed.

‘I realised I never really introduced myself, I’m y/n, I live in 13b’ you held out your hand, Jason shook your hand with a polite smile.

‘Jason, 12b’

You sat on Jason’s couch as he gave you a beer, the two of you got to know each other a little better. Jason told you about the man that used to live in your apartment.

You felt sad when you heard how the man turned out, but happy to know Jason helped him.

The dreaded realisation that the walls are very thin, Jason had heard the ordeal from a few nights ago.

‘He is my ex boyfriend, he slept around and hit me a few times. I moved to get away from him, but he found me’ you revealed, the clothes that belonged to him were what was left over from months before.

Reggie, your ex boyfriend, showed up on your doorstep without any warning, asking for you to take him back. You of course refused.

Jason’s lighting in his apartment was great, it seemed romantic and like a typical bachelor pad. Or a Chad pad.

Jason didn’t seem to have girls or guys going in and out all the time, truth be told, Jason didn’t mention a partner.

It was a few more weeks, the two of you met up a couple more times to hang out. Netflix documentary, movies, drinks.

The two of you began going to bars together, going to movies together. Jason even started taking you to his gym.

You became friends quickly, but Jason still didn’t seem a type to run in people’s beds.

It was refreshing, most of your guy and girl friends always seemed to just want a night of fun with a stranger.

You’d only ever slept with someone that you knew well enough, someone you were dating. That of course, changed quickly one night.

‘Come in, let’s have some more drinks’ Jason slurred, the two of you going inside his apartment for some more drinks.

You both had already had one too many, but why not? You’re home now.

Music playing, not too loud of course as you had neighbours. Drinks, laughing, with the occasional touching of each others skin.

Jason wrapped his arms around you as he gave you a warming hug, you smiled into the hug. The drinks already taking over your system.

The night seemed a bit blurry, but it didn’t matter as it’s morning now.

Shuffling a little, dry mouth from the antics of drinking anything but water, eyes blurry for a few seconds as you felt confused.

Black bedding, you don’t own any black bedding…yet here you were, in black bedding.

‘Oh shit’ you gasped, turning to see Jason fast asleep. Next to you, in his bed.

You screamed internally, realising what you’d done, the two of you had obviously been drinking to the point you both got horny.

‘Oh, good morning’ Jason said, almost as a question as his eyes locked with yours.

‘Morning’ you smiled slightly, Jason looked to see you were both in his bed, neither of you had any clothes on.

The two of you didn’t know what to make of it, the past few days you would go out of your way to avoid Jason. He seemed to be doing the same.

It got awkward too much, you felt you couldn’t just not speak to him again.

‘Can we talk?’ You asked, standing at Jason’s door.

Jason stepped aside and let you in, you feeling like your heart was going to jump out of your chest.

‘Beer?’ Jason asked, handing you one as he opened his and took a big sip.

‘I can’t keep ignoring you, I don’t feel bad about what happened. I just wanted to understand your thoughts’ you said, hesitation.

You still took into account Jason is gay too, but you may not be his type. Though, you couldn’t lie about Jason definitely being yours.

Jason took your hand in his as he nodded a little, eyes looking deep into yours.

‘I don’t feel bad, I wanted to ask you about your thoughts’ Jason admitted.

Seems Jason had the same problem as you, thinking maybe he wasn’t your type. You being his though.

The two of you laughed as you both realised you were getting closer, not just as friends.

Jason leant in as he kissed you, you smiled as you pulled him in.

Jason made it official, asking you for an official date. Not wanting it to be a case of the two of you just going to the bedroom all the time.

The two of you wanted to try and make it work, taking your time with everything. Even though Jason pointed out the two of you had already had sex.

Hands holding hands down the street, still living in separate apartments, Jason kissed your head as he felt thankful to have met you. Thankful to have had that drunken night to gain the courage to take a leap.

The two of you were happy the way it was at the moment, not wanting to rush into the bigger steps, but love was blooming quickly and surely.

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader

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try-set-me-on-fire · 3 months

Text

Fuck It Friday It’s Saturday what if i try to just write a whole fic right here in a tumblr post

Okay Brick from the future here after i have indeed written a fic right here in a tumblr post, warning for some homophobia (described past high school experiences from Eddie). Based on this post. Have not reread it at all before hitting post so good luck hopefully it’s more or less cohesive

Was tagged in fuck it Friday by uh somebody probably but i can’t find it in my notes. Tagging — oh it’s like 11 o clock, so this can be for seven sentence Sunday? — @bigfootsmom @iinryer @shitouttabuck @chronicowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerdiazs @butchdiaz @homerforsure

The music is turned down low now, because it’s late, and even though the sprawling backyard of the ranch house is far, far away from any neighbors the event coordinators were still firm about a noise curfew and it would be a shame for such a lovely wedding to end with a visit from some of Athena’s coworkers. Most of the lights in the house are off or dimmed — beds and couches littered with the young and the old and the drunk — so the only lights out here are the strings of fairy lights and little jars with bulbs in the lid that remind Buck of sneaking out to the park with Maddie to catch lightning bugs back in Pennsylvania. The murky light and the quiet make everything feel soft as Buck stands on the porch, bare feet on creaky wood. He’s not sure where his shoes got off to, removed at some point when the dancing had started to pinch his heels. His throat burns a little from all the talking — and maybe that last vodka sour — and his eyes sort of itch from all the crying earlier. (Eddie had frowned at him, three of his fingers pressed into his elbow, as Buck had wept through the ceremony. A clear are you okay? And Buck had only nodded, because talking would have been rude, and despite everything that might make it seem otherwise, he really was.) He thinks Eddie might be the only person left here that he knows, the rest of the 118 departing in the last hour or two, though he’s not sure where he is, either. Maybe the same place as his shoes.

“Buck.”

Not with his shoes, then. Buck watches as Eddie stumbles towards him across the lawn from wherever he’d been. Dancing, maybe. He’s sweaty, his cheeks are cheerfully pink and he’s grinning with all his teeth showing. Buck steps down into the grass to meet him. “Hey, Eds.”

“Hello,” Eddie says, soft and pleased. He looks all over Buck’s face, over his now disheveled suit with the jacket hanging on the railing behind him and down at his missing shoes. Eddie frowns at that. “Your feet’ll get cold.”

Buck wiggles his toes in the dewy lawn. “I’ll be okay.” When he looks back up Eddie has an expression on his face that he can’t quite read but has been frequently present, lately. And then there’s a laugh across the yard, and both turn to look. Tommy. Loud, and full of that kind of breathless, disbelieving joy that- well, Buck hadn’t really heard from him before recently.

“I don’t-” Eddie stops, and Buck watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes his head, looks up at Buck. “How are you just okay with this?”

Buck tilts his head almost sideways as he turns back to look at him. “It’s true love, man. How could I be upset with that?”

Eddie doesn’t roll his eyes, but Buck can tell he wants to. “I don’t even know- if that even exists. You gotta- you work on it. Or… I don’t know. He just saw this fucking guy across a crowded bar, and, what, fucking bam, Cupid’s arrow?”

“There’s a little more history than that,” Buck protests, even though, yeah, that is kind of what happened. They’d been at a club over in WeHo and Tommy had stopped frozen-dead in his tracks on the way from the dance floor to the bar, staring with some combination of awe-fear-grief-anger-longing all over his face at some guy, around Tommy’s age or maybe a little older, sandwiched between two big jock types all grinding on each other, one of them sucking an impressive hickey onto his shoulder next to the strap of his tastefully tight tank top. Tommy had stumbled closer like a man bewitched, and had gasped out “Sal?” In a way that had made Buck think, Ah. Time’s up. He’d lingered a respectful distance back as the two of them had an intense little conversation, though the club was loud enough he probably wouldn’t have heard much if he’d come closer. And he went home with Tommy that night and sat on his bed as he’d paced around his little bedroom and talked about years shitty jokes and stupid, over performed masculinity, and wanting, and “-the last I heard he was fucking married, I’ve met Sandra, he has two kids-”, and when Tommy got a phone call the next day — an invitation to lunch, to talk — he’d looked at Buck and said “I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry, but I-” and Buck had kissed his cheek and said “Go.” And, now, not even quite three months later, a wedding. The whole 118 had been invited, and had gone mostly in solidarity to Buck, and everybody had been making a lot of meaningful eye contact over their drinks as he’d elbowed them to quit it.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Buck blinks back to the present, feet in the grass, Eddie warm and close next to him.

“Dance with me, Buckley,” Eddie sighs, dramatic, petulant, a smile shining through his put upon attitude. He’s been cutting it up all night, spinning Karen around and around, dancing with Sal’s mostly cordial ex-wife and sisters and aunts and cousins. He even took Tommy for a turn at one point, while Buck had busied himself with downing whatever was in the glass Ravi handed him so he wouldn’t have to look at either of their faces.

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

Buck, historically, by any metric you care to measure by, is a terrible dancer. Bobby, who himself only manages the old man party shuffle, has looked on his lack of rhythm in abject despair. Eddie, though, Eddie can dance, and he does it so well it makes his dancing partner’s look good, too. They move through the grass halfway competently, movements kind-of smooth. Buck only feels polished leather under his feet once or twice. “You’re real good at this.”

Eddie nods as he pulls Buck into a little spin. “Took lessons, back in high school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He’s staring at Buck’s shoulder. “Sophia had lessons I had to drive her to, one of the instructors mentioned classes for older kids.” He shrugs. “Seemed fun.”

“In high school?” Something about the question makes Eddie’s shoulders get a little tight, but he nods. “And you played baseball? Damn, I never knew how anybody could have multiple extra curriculars, I barely made every football practice as it is.”

Eddie shrugs again, eyes still fixed on rumpled cotton. “I liked it.” Step, step, step, spin. “Took Shannon a few times, but she didn’t really like the structure of it, just wanted to get to the dancing part.” A little smile. “You bet I gave her shit when she got a leg cramp line dancing one time. Shoulda stretched.”

Buck laughs. “Did you stretch before coming here?”

“Yeah.”

Buck laughs harder, throwing his head back. They’re far enough out of the city that there are stars in the sky, and he gets distracted looking up at them for a moment, finding any constellation he knows. When he looks back down Eddie’s staring at his shoulder again.

“I could dance because of the baseball,” he says, quiet. “Because… Shannon, and I played sports, and I… you know.” He looks up at Buck, eyes dark away from any bright light. “I could laugh it off. When people said it was gay. Because I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He doesn’t know what else to say, about the reminders of what high school was like in the aughts, or about the past tense. He thinks maybe he should apologize, but Eddie keeps talking.

“Not in like a- I wasn’t tortured about it. I didn’t even think about it. It was- that’s not- it wasn’t even a possibility.” His palm sweats against Buck’s and his other hand burning against his side, and still they keep dancing, never losing the beat of the song. “One time… Aaron Dewitt called me a… you know. And everybody just started laughing, because, like. Man. That’s Eddie, he was just making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers, what the fuck are you on about.” He smiles, all wrong, and the way his voice gets lighter isn’t very light at all. “All those guys were begging me for moves before senior prom.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck!” Tommy stumbles in from the side, not even waiting for Eddie to retreat so his arm ends up awkwardly trapped between them as he plasters himself to Buck, hands on either his side of his face. He’s had a lot of champagne tonight, as Buck thinks is his right, and it’s made him unsteady on his feet in a way he knows most other drinks don’t. It’s the sugar, he’d said once. Goes right to my head. “Buck.”

“Hi,” Buck laughs a little, smelling the drink on his breath. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I love you,” Tommy says, sincere and eyes watering. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for- for everything. I didn’t- I never thought I’d get to have this.”

Buck thinks that he’s practically glowing, has been all night, getting even more supernova bright every time his now-husband touches his arm or side or back or anywhere and smiles a private little smile at him. “I’m really glad you do, Tommy. Love you, too.”

Tommy kisses his cheek, a little slobbery. “We’re gonna leave now, but I just wanted to say bye. I hope you had a good time. Sorry for- or- thank you-”

“I had a wonderful time,” Buck says, releasing Tommy from drunkenly trying to find an end to that sentence. They’ve had some version of this conversation several times already, Tommy always guilty and happy in dizzying little circles, and Buck hopes he can bury the guilt in the soft dirt they’re standing on and go on to live with just the happiness. “Have a great night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, laughing and nodding. “Yeah. Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

They watch him hurry back across the yard, falling into Sal’s arms with the easy confidence of someone who knows without a doubt that he’ll be caught. Eddie’s arm is still across Buck’s chest where it had been stuck.

“I know you’ve said you’re fine with it-”

“About a thousand times, yeah, to you and everybody else we know-”

“Come on, man.” Eddie shifts his arm a little, up, so he can grab and shake Buck’s shoulder. The angle they’re standing at has caught the light, and Eddie’s eyes are gold again. “It’s me. Are you okay with this?

Buck thinks about high school, and all the things he didn’t think about either right up until Tommy Kinard kissed him in the kitchen. He thinks about Hen’s sky high eyebrows when she heard the news, and her and Chimney’s stories about the bad old days and the kind of person Sal seemed to be. He thinks about change, and how much it can happen to a person and how quickly, and how you just have to trust, sometimes, that people have grown and learned. He thinks about Eddie, and things that are impossible, and dancing, and- he laughs, sudden and loud enough that Eddie startles, because, fuck. This is exactly how it happened in the club, too. Seeing someone you know like the back of your hand in a new light and- bam.

When the laughter calms in his throat, Buck looks down at Eddie. “Really, I swear I’m fine with it. I had a really nice time with Tommy. He was… kind, and safe, and patient. I really liked him- I really like him. I hope I keep getting, you know, Christmas cards or whatever. I’m really happy he got his romcom ending. I mean- I kind of wish it was with a guy who doesn’t seem so much like an asshole-” Buck grins as Eddie snorts, “-but, uh, Hen says judging your exes taste in men is, like, a gay right of passage or something, so.”

Eddie nods once, twice, and then his eyes get a little wide, the way they do when he’s being brave. “So then, what does it mean if I’m judging Tommy for you?”

“He’s your friend, too,” Buck protests past the way his heart is thudding in his chest, because Tommy deserves defending here, probably. He kicks softly at Eddie’s shin. “You came to the wedding, don’t-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says. He steps backward, and again, and they’re dancing again. “So. Still a right of passage?”

Buck’s palms are sweating, now. “You’ve never liked my taste in women, either.”

Eddie makes an unconvincing noise of denial. “I… thought…”

“Yeah?” Buck raises an eyebrow, and Eddie’s face twitches with how hard he’s trying not to grin.

“That… Ali… was fine.”

Buck cackles, and Eddie pulls him in closer and laughs into his collarbone. “You were so judgy when she dumped me, are you kidding, your fucking stink face every time-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says again, loud, getting them back on track, standing upright but not moving any further away. They’re pressed together chest to knee. “Buck.”

“Yeah?”

They spin in a slow circle. “I’m pretty good at dancing, and- probably not so good at baseball anymore, but- well I dunno, maybe. We could go to a batting cage sometime. Anyway.” Spin and spin. “I guess I… do think about it, now. I think about- and there were a lot of things I thought were impossible, and weren’t, really. And- and I’m not in high school, and…” They slow, and stop, and Buck thinks Eddie’s hands and eyes are, probably, the warmest things on the whole entire planet. “We could go home and I could wait till tomorrow to ask you to lunch to talk about things, but we’re both already here.”

Buck laughs, and wonders if anyone listening to him would hear a kind of breathless, disbelieving joy. “You wanna take me to lunch?”

“Mhm. I was thinking we could get sandwiches.”

Buck laughs, and laughs, almost falling over with it, but that’s fine. He knows Eddie will catch him.

#buddie #buck x tommy #my writing #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #sal whatever his last name is

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

Text

Blueberry Cupcake

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: couple dirty jokes lol but otherwise nothing! Maybe some self confidence issues?

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this took so long love! I hope you like it <3

Requested: by anon, Your pined post says request open! ❤️ Could I request Steve harrington x reader, where the reader shows up to scoops ahoy as often as possible just to talk to him/try to get the courage to ask him out?

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“You are going to die at these new flavors.” Steve’s lips were curled into a smile as he leaned against the counter when you approached. There was a light on his face but his hair was dimmed by the required hat. You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve only been gone a week,” you argued. He shook his head.

“The Scoops Ahoy Gods have been here since the last time you were,” he explained. The shop was otherwise empty aside from stragglers. It was only Steve at the front this afternoon, a slow day at the ice cream counter. It was drizzling outside and the rest of Hawkins had decided to stay inside. You couldn’t blame them. You almost skipped the trip to the mall today. Saving money and being cozy in bed was an alluring daydream. The look in Steve’s eyes made you happy you had come though. He was the only reason you got out of bed that particular morning and put on some half decent clothes. It was always more exciting to get dressed with the prospect of seeing someone who might appreciate the clothes.

“Well?” You gestured to the ice cream.

“This one, is lemon cookie.” He made a face like he was melting, hands dragging down his cheeks in an exaggerated manner. You giggled, shaking your head. “This one-” he paused for effect, “-blueberry cupcake. Actual cupcake pieces in it.” You nodded slowly as he went down the line of new flavors. They all seemed good, aside from a couple random ones. But you never really came here for the ice cream. Regardless, to appease him, you picked one of the new ones and stood there as you tasted it.

“Positively delightful,” you promised. He smiled brightly.

“I knew you would love it. You’re my most loyal customer.”

“Erica Sinclair out of town or something?”

“You’re my favorite customer,” he said with an eye roll.

“Just because Dustin Henderson is still at summer camp.”

“Stop arguing with me and take the compliment.” You nodded, a soft smile on your face. You leaned against the counter to the side, just in case someone wanted to come in and grab a scoop.

“No Robin today?”

“Nope. They shoved me out here all by my lonesome.”

“You need to learn the priority of self confidence, Steve Harrington.”

“I have self confidence. Plenty of it.” A girl approached, probably a little older than you. You didn’t recognize her and you knew you would’ve. She had a gorgeous head of braided hair, along with a dazzling, kind, approachable smile. The sight of her made your heart sink. Steve moved to the counter once more.

“Good afternoon milady,” he said, smoothly. “Care to join me on this adventure of flavors?” You rolled your eyes and moved aside. To your surprise, she laughed. You breathed sharply through your nose. Usually he just got an eyebrow raised with that line.

“I would love to. Got any favorites?”

“I have many but not one compares to you.” Her smile grew at the flattery. You rolled your eyes and took a bitter bite of your ice cream.

You had been coming to the mall for Steve. But he was never here to see you. He was here to do his job and flirt with girls. You aren’t special because he flirts with you when you’re around. You missed Robin and her even keeled voice, the one that would promise you he had struck out with every other girl in Hawkins.

You took a deep breath and tossed your ice cream. It wasn’t that good anyway. You didn’t even bother a wave as you left, leaving his voice to drown out as you got further away. Suddenly the rainy weather was only furthering your solemn mood.

Despite your better intentions, you returned to Scoops Ahoy a couple of days later. Robin had called you the day before to complain about him and you were all too happy to oblige in her distaste. You were happy to see her at the counter when you approached. It was a little busier today but there was no line.

“Hey,” she said evenly as you approached. “Long time no talk.” You opened your mouth to retort back when the back door opened.

“Where have you been?” Steve questioned, pushing the back door open with force. Your eyes went wide in mock annoyance.

“School. Working. Why?”

“You haven’t come in,” he explained, approaching the back of the counter.

“It’s not like I was talking to her or anything,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. She jutted her elbow onto the counter, watching him with a slight form of amusement.

“You can talk to her whenever,” Steve grumbled. “What happened? We didn’t even finish our conversation the other day.” Suddenly, in the presence of his puppy dog eyes, you felt kind of silly. You had left him without saying anything and hadn’t mentioned it. You were slightly surprised he had even brought it up. You would’ve let it move past silently, content in not knowing why the slight awkwardness had happened.

“I had to leave,” you explained. It was weak but nothing else came to mind. “I had to go back home,” you tried. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Okay. Well next time let me know, alright?” You nodded gently, happy to let the situation go.

“What are you having?” Robin questioned. You looked at the flavors and Steve remained with an eager look.

“How about the lemon cookie?” Steve’s easy smile returned and he nodded once before trying to talk to the customer behind you. Robin gave you a look that said, you folded too easily. You shrugged. He would have gotten you out of it sooner or later.

The next day it rained again. You were busy with college work, knee deep in homework. You were barely able to look up, let alone go and visit Steve. For the time being you were attempting to distance yourself from him, for the sake of both of you. You couldn’t pine for him forever when he clearly just saw you as a friend. The schoolwork was a worthy distraction.

You didn’t hear the phone ringing until it had been going for forty five seconds.

“Will you get that?” your roommate called from the other side of the building. You looked up, only to the sound of her voice. You were finally aware of the incessant ringing. You moved your papers aside and finally found the phone. You picked it up, finger wrapping around the cord.

“Hello?”

“Hey! I hope you don’t mind, Robin gave me your number.” You were stunned into silence. Steve was calling you. Despite him giving you the reason he had your number, it still took you a moment to pull together any kind of information. “Hello?”

“Hi! Sorry, cut out for a second. What can I do for you Steve?”

“I know it’s raining but I thought you could come keep me company,” he suggested. “It’s really lonesome by myself in the Scoopys Ahoy this afternoon.” You pursed your lips. Was he asking you to hang out for ulterior motives? Or was he really just bored and you were the first person to come to mind? How had he asked Robin for your number? Why hadn’t she told you? Your silence was not a green flag to him. “Or not. I’m sure you’re busy-”

“No, sorry I’m still in study brain.”

“Ah the good old study brain. I know him well.” You rolled your eyes.

“What time does your shift end?”

“Four.”

“Well then I will be by before then.” You could practically see the smile on his face at his cheerful answer.

“Okay cool. Sick. See you then.”

“See you then Steve.” You hung up the phone quickly, squinting at it. You didn’t know what his intention was but you didn’t exactly like it. You looked back down at your school work, deciding to abandon it as you went to find an outfit.

Steve was still holding the phone when you hung up. He could hear the dial tone but he couldn’t bring himself to put it down.

“Well?” Robin asked, eyebrows raised and wide eyed.

“She said she’s coming by before my shift ends,” he explained. Robin nodded.

“That’s good. When I see her I’ll hide in the back.” Steve finally put the phone down and swallowed hard. Usually he was okay with this type of thing. Flirting, asking people out, getting rejected. But he knew he would miss you coming to see him if you said no. He knew you would stop coming if there was some sort of awkward barrier between the two of you. He didn’t want that.

But he wanted you.

He cleared his throat and nodded.

“What am I supposed to say again?” Behind Robin’s head was the white board, taunting him with rejections. He had thought it was funny when she did it but now it seemed like a slap in the face.

“Ask her to hang out after your shift. That’s all.” Robin crossed her arms. This was harder than she thought it was going to be. You liked him, he liked you, how could you not get together? Clearly it was taking some pushing on both ends though. She better be invited to the wedding.

“When do you think she’ll come?”

“Before your shift ends dingus,” she muttered, shaking her head. She returned to the counter as a customer approached. Steve was left alone in the back room with his thoughts and doubts. Everytime you came to see him it was like every light in the room had brightened. He thought about losing that, about losing you. Would you laugh in his face, like every other girl he talked to here? He couldn’t bear it. This was an awful idea. His stomach churned. He pushed open the door and hoped they would get so busy, he would forget you were even coming.

At 3:30 you finally arrived. You felt like your body was sagging with all the information in your head weighing it down. You had been distracted by homework even while you got ready, thinking about all the things that could go wrong this week. It made this thing with Steve seem less important, so you could worry about it less. But now that you were here, you could feel the nerves settling back into your stomach.

Steve was behind the counter. He stood up straight when he noticed it was you.

“Hey,” he breathed.

“Hey,” you said back, a small smile on your face. “Why isn’t Robin working today?” you questioned. They were typically shift partners. She hadn’t mentioned going out somewhere that would warrant her taking an unprecedented day off.

Steve, knowing full well Robin was in the back, shrugged.

“They thought I could handle it by myself.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You’re moving up in the world, Harrington. Are you the manager yet?”

“You know no one would let that happen,” he argued. He moved over to the ice cream. “This one’s on me but I get to choose.” You nodded once.

“I’ll take that.” He hoped no one else would come for the last hour. Should he just ask you now? The words seemed daunting. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He had literally fought monsters, why was this the thing to take him out? He scooped you some blueberry cupcake and handed it over. “Thanks.”

“How’s studying?”

“Draining,” you admitted without a beat. “I can only hold so much in my brain at once.” He remembered his days of essay writing which didn’t help his confidence in the moment.

“They should invent pillows you can stick information into.”

“That’s a million dollar idea, Harrington. You should trademark that.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“We can figure it out together over a lot of ice cream.” You briefly wondered if this was going to be his job in the fall too. Would he leave for school then? How far would he go?

“I like that.” He cleared his throat. “You know, we could see each other when I’m not on the clock too.” You took a bite of your ice cream, listening intently. Your eyes remained on him. He tried not to quiver under your wide eyed gaze. “Like if you have nothing going on today…” You caught on. You swallowed your ice cream to ignore your breath hitching.

“Like a date?”

He shrugged as nonchalantly as he was able to.

“If you want.”

“I would like that,” you admitted. “Are you just asking me because none of the other girls coming into Scoops Ahoy have given you the time of day?” He tried not to wince.

“I’m asking because I want to,” he said honestly. “And Robin held me at knife point. I think she’s tired of us dancing around…whatever this is.”

Whatever this is?!

He could feel it too? You thought it was entirely one sided, fueled by your delusions. You couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll have to thank her next time I see her.” You pulled up a stool to sit on the side of the counter, allowing you to continue talking. “You have a place in mind?”

“We could go wherever you wanted. Grab food, hell we could go to the arcade if you wanted.” You laughed gently.

“I think I’ll pass on the arcade right now. But I wouldn’t mind an entree to go with my dessert.”

The nerves wore off quickly once you both realized you were on the same page. You sat on the stool in the back, the few magazines on the table keeping you company while Steve dealt with customers. You poked at your blueberry cupcake ice cream as you turned the pages.

The divider window opened up. You raised your head.

“Nice hat,” Steve said. You had forgotten you stole his work hat, which was sitting very gracefully atop your head.

“Thanks.”

“Everyone’s gone.”

“Then come back here,” you said, gesturing to the empty room.

“You’re too distracting when I'm back there with you alone. I need supervision.” Robin made a gagging noise, though you couldn't see her. You smiled sheepishly and got up, pushing the magazine aside.

“You know you could hang out after he gets off right?”

“We hang out during me getting o-”

“Shut up. Shut up.” Robin covered her ears and walked into the back room. You laughed at the sly attempt at a joke. Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer. You were glad you had stolen his hat. He looked much better without it.

“She’s right. I think we’re feeding into codependency.”

“Our relationship was built on the foundation of you coming to see me while I work.”

“That was because I didn’t see you after work.” His fingers held onto yours. He smiled down at them, like a prized possession.

“I like to maximize my time.”

Robin gagged in the back again.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagines #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction

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jo-harrington · 2 years

Text

Closing Time (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie watches the reader slay a dragon. (Reader works at Claire's in StarCourt and deals with a shitty customer before closing the store.)

Previous Part: Leave of Absence

Warnings/Themes: Semi-established relationship (friendship? Eddie isn’t sure what they are either), fluffy. Reader is not a Hawkins native, but it's kind of just implied. Eddie is a romantic boy and makes everything fantastical in that silly head of his. Also he makes a crude (ish?) joke. Typical teenage boy/young adult stuff. Nothing crazy,

Note: This is my first drabble I'm actually posting. (I haven't written actual fics in a hot minute, only headcanons). I hope it's good, but it really was an opportunity for me to get my frustrations out after work in a store for the first time in 2 years since I moved to corporate. And I kind of liked it so I might write more. (Therapy who?)

(Future Jo here...You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.)

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

"Ma'am, I'm sorry that this is confusing, but it's store policy."

"Then I'd like to speak to the store manager."

"I am the store manager," you explained, smile dropping right off your face only to be replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

Eddie stood just outside of the store, leaning against a railing that overlooked the Food Court, and watched you. It was a Sunday, which meant the mall was closed early, and all of the stores were dark except for yours. The gate was halfway down, but he could still see the tenacity--the ferocity--in your eyes as you dealt with an unruly customer and it took everything in him to ignore the little shiver that went up his spine.

When Eddie first gotten a job at Tape World, he had briefly wondered if it was a mistake. He had mostly been given closing shifts to offset gigs at the Hideout on Tuesdays and Hellfire on Fridays. Not to mention school once it was back in session. And seeing how closing shifts meant he was missing out at the opportunity to be dealing at local parties over the summer...well he didn't need to pass algebra to know it was costing him some potentially serious cash.

But the pay at Tape World wasn't awful and it was steady. Wayne seemed to be proud of him for finally having a steady job, despite the assurance that he would always be proud of Eddie. The discount was nice, and his manager let him promote Corroded Coffin shows at the counter.

And then there was you.

At first glance, it didn't make sense to anyone. You with your pastel purple name tag, mega-watt smile, trendy clothes, and stacks of scrunchies. And Eddie with his alleged devil-worshipping, superior taste in music, non-conformity, and hair wild either from too much head banging or the single window AC unit in his trailer. Shit, even he didn't understand it in the beginning; he thought you were everything he said he hated.

But you weren't.

Just like he wasn't everything the entire town said he was either.

Instead he found someone who was just like him, only sort of not at all, with your own flock of lost little bedazzled, pastel and neon sheep that you were protective of. You were a misunderstood soul, a compassionate leader, and one of the most patient people he ever met.

Except for right this minute.

The lights in the mall itself started to dim and the music went silent. Yet, there you still stood in front of one of the local PTA moms as she complained about a return.

She had already been in the store when Eddie arrived to meet you at the end of your shift. (Sunday nights were your...well, Eddie didn't know what to call them. Not date nights; not yet at least.) And you had given him one quick, apologetic glance over her shoulder before you geared up for battle.

But Eddie had been watching as your mood devolved ever since, and you went from understanding, to annoyed, to fuming. And here you were now, looking as though you could singlehandedly manifest a pit to open up beneath Loudmouth Linda to swallow her whole if she carried on with her rant.

And it was kind of hot.

Eddie wouldn't consider himself someone who thought anger was sexy. It was scary. He had seen the way his father would get angry over the most minor things and it stayed with him his entire life. He would freeze, even at the most minor indication that anger was being directed towards him. From his father, from a teacher, from Officer Callahan--although Hopper was usually there to rescue him from that one.

It was different when it came to bullies at school or the townies that spoke in hushed tones when he passed them by. He could stand up to the jocks and the popular kids that pushed him and his friends around. He could ignore the scathing looks from the busybodies at the grocery store. And as much as it hurt to be cast away by almost everyone he met for years, he knew that it wasn't anger--actually he wasn't sure what it was, really--that caused them to do those things.

Just like it wasn't really anger that fueled your fight for the past fifteen minutes. It was purely righteous indignation as you were attacked by this absolute dragon of a woman.

Deep down, he wished he could be your savior, having dealt with the spitting venom of these townies before on numerous occasions. But you were no damsel, and this wasn't your first battle either. You took every insult with grace, every octave of a raised voice was met with an equally raised voice before going back to calm. You verbally jousted, using every trick in your book, and when they didn't work...

"Once again it is against the policy of StarCourt Mall to have customers in the building this late past close and I will have to call Mall Security to come and escort you out regardless of your choice ma'am. So we can either proceed with your return and you get the money back that you paid and not a cent more or I tell my staff and security that you are no longer welcome in this place of business. And security will have to take your picture as they escort you out."

...You simply slayed the beast. With a smile. Although Eddie believed you were actually just baring your teeth in warning.

There was that shiver up his spine again, and were those goosebumps on his arms?

He sort of hoped to be on the receiving end of those teeth sometime soon.

Regardless, your customer was left speechless as you processed her return and called security to escort her to the exit. Eddie smiled smugly as they passed him by.

It didn't take long for the lights of your store to finally shut and for you to duck under the gate before locking it.

He didn't even get a chance to congratulate you on your victory and tell you how absolutely epic you were before you were walking face first into his chest and sighing as your arms went around his waist in a hug.

“Hey,” he chuckled and put his arms around you, one hand instantly rubbing up and down your back.

“Hi.” Your reply was muffled and you squeezed him a bit harder.

"Y'ok there?"

"Yeah," you responded quietly and rubbed your cheek against his t-shirt. “You wanna get DQ?” You looked up at him for a second.

“I could use a blizzard,” he agreed.

“Cool,” you sighed and settled back against him. “People suck.”

“They do.”

The two of you stayed like that in relative silence for a few minutes and as much as Eddie wanted to go on--to tell you that the lady was out of line, that she was entitled, and that he could never handle it as smoothly as you did--he knew that wasn't what you needed right now.

He momentarily wondered that it wasn't all bad, not being your knight, when he could instead be the home you returned to after battle.

And he would happily do it, even if you never asked him to.

"You know," he finally broke the silence. "I've heard people threaten to call security many times. Mostly on the receiving end, sometimes as an innocent bystander."

"Oh yeah?" You finally looked up at him, nose wrinkling with a smile.

"But I think that was the first time it almost gave me a boner," he admitted.

"Eddie!" you pushed away from him and slapped his arms as you laughed, eyes shining with joy. Your worries were not forgotten, he knew, merely smoothed over by, hopefully, your adoration for him. "You fucking perv!"

"I said almost," he defended.

He would be there. Happily.

Next Part: Team Building

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #Stranger things imagine #stranger things #what do I tag this #stranger things drabble

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gingerlurk · 9 months

Text

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 11: The Question

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You ask Din a question that changes everything.

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, SMUT, here we go, fingering, unprotected PiV (be safe), creampie, multiple orgasms, soft & tender.

A few days have passed and you’ve worked yourself into a state. You just couldn’t stop the wondering.

You were bound to be curious, right? He would have said something if it was not an okay thing to do. That was his way.

After pacing a couple of times with wringing hands and a racing heart, you decide that just asking the question is innocent enough. You press an only slightly shaking hand to your side, where the plaster seal holds your wound and the man’s bare hands had stroked you so carefully.

It’s just an innocent question.

So you check the kid is still sleeping, for no other reason than he was really tuckered out from the day, and approach the back of Din’s form as he moves the fresh supplies about the cabin.

He doesn’t seem to notice you, so you clear your throat. His helmet turns.

‘Um.’ You shift your feet.

‘I think we were a bit zealous with the fruit,’ he says. Pushing two overloaded bags into a rack, they barely fit. ‘Not sure we will get through it all.’

‘Oh,’ you give a nervous giggle. Giggle? What the fuck is wrong with you? ‘I’m sure kiddo will have no trouble devouring it all.’

‘Mm.’ He continues shoving the bags into place. You watch his able hands draw a loop of webbing through the rack and tie a deft knot.

Hands… Hands! His hands. You give yourself a mental slap and step up. ‘Din?’

‘Mm?’

‘Can I ask you a question?’ He must hear something in your voice because he turns and faces you square on. His broad frame glimmers in the dim light floating in from outside and you can tell by the tilt of his helmet that you have his full attention. Gods, he can make you feel so fucking exposed.

‘When I came to…’ You stop, huff a breath and go again. ‘After the treasury and the-- and the carbon freeze…’ You rub clammy palms on your thighs, pushing the memory of the burning chill away. ‘When I woke up, you, you were—’ Gods, fuck, just fucking ask him!

He hasn’t moved or gestured for you to go on. You think he might be holding his breath.

‘You were treating my injuries and,’ you stare down at his hands, held stiffly at his sides, ‘I don’t think you had your gauntlets on.’ You say it in a rush and look up a little further to his forearms. ‘Or your vambraces.’

The items in question are reflecting the sun into the hold, the light having shifted lower as you dithered around your point. You lose focus for a moment.

‘That’s true,’ Din whispers into the silence. You almost miss it. ‘The stitcher gauge is very fine. I had to be precise or I could have overdone it and burned you. So, I thought a direct hand best.’

‘Ohh, oh- okay. Th-thanks for that.’ Thanks for that? Unhinged.

‘And,’ you push on. Your eyes dart lower for a second then back up to Din’s motionless visage. ‘I don’t think you had your cuisse on either. Your-- your thigh armour.’ You make a weak gesture to his lower body then lock your arms across your front, willing your heart to get out of your throat and back into your chest. ‘When I, uh,’ you stare up at the ceiling, ‘when I grabbed hold of you – because of the pain, I mean – I didn’t feel it there.’ You should just die right now.

‘In order to reset your shoulder,’ he says, ‘I had to lean my knee into your hip. I did not want the beskar to cause any more harm.’ Is his voice raspier than usual? Even deeper, somehow?

‘Right. You did a great job.’ You release your arms and swing the shoulder in question back and forth a couple of times. ‘Feels good.’ Are you out of your mind?

‘That’s good.’

Silence.

‘You had a question?’

‘Yes! Yes I did. Uh…’ You swallow the driest mouth you’ve ever had. ‘So my question being, it didn’t seem to concern you when I came to. Like, you weren’t worried having pieces of your armour off in my presence. I thought, you know, with the creed and all…’ Just get this over with and you can go sprint into the forest and throw up. But then he takes a step toward you and gives a long exhale. The sound makes your body flush all over. Without your volition, your thoughts and nerves rush to your core – igniting a pulsing need.

‘That is still not a question, but yes. It did not worry me.’ His voice has reached a gravelly tone that you let wash over you, finding the calm amid the sonic velvet. ‘My armour is a part of my religion and I hold it as sacrosanct.’ He touches a hand to his cuirass. ‘But the Creed speaks of only the helmet being removed and my face being seen. It does not forbid removing my armour in the presence of another, though I would only do so when needs are an absolute must.’

He drops his hand to his side. ‘Or when I am with one that I trust.’

Holy shit. Heart is climbing up your throat and into your mouth. You lick your lips.

‘Okay, so, here’s my question,’ you clench your fist once then reach out and take hold of his hand. You lift it up and with your other hand ghost your fingers over his. You have an urgent thought, look up at him. ‘To be clear, I’d never ask you to take off your helmet.’

‘I know.’

‘Ever,’ a hard shake of your head.

‘I know.’

‘But, can I take off this glove?’ You stare directly into the dark T of his visor. He leans to you.

‘You can.’

Molten, burning desire coils in your belly. A graphic mental image of stripping him bare and climbing him like a tree flashes white hot in your mind. The things you want to do to him, and let him do to you. Thought upon thought tumbles through you. This hand you’re holding touching you all over, finding your aching need, pulling your juices from you in an endless stream. These huge fingers—

‘Start here,’ he says gently, and you realise you’ve been stood stock still staring at his hand in yours. He lifts his other hand to the edge of the vambrace by his wrist and releases a catch. The metal of the two armour pieces, warmed by him, come away with a clunk. He drops them onto the bench beside you. Then waits.

You grip two of his gloved fingers and draw the garment toward you. You blink back the moisture gathering at your eyes so you can take in the sight of millimetre on millimetre of skin being revealed to you. When the glove has dropped to the floor, you push your fingers into his to entwine them. He spreads his own and lets your digits link. Gods, but they feel so soft between your calloused ones. With your other hand, you circle his wrist and start to push up the long sleeve up his forearm, greedy to see more, touch more. But he flinches.

‘Sorry! I’m sorry,’ you make to draw back but he tightens your joined fingers together to hold you still.

‘No,’ he whispers. ‘It is not you. I’m just, I have not felt– for a long time…’

Of course, you think. This is the most touch-starved man in the galaxy.

Lick your lips again, bite down on the corner of your mouth. Look up to him.

‘Okay,’ you say. ‘Why don’t you lead? Just, you can touch me instead for a little while? If you like?’

‘I would like that.’ It’s nothing but a low rumble to your ears.

He unclasps the armour from his other arm and tugs the glove off. It gets tossed to the side, almost carelessly, then both hands reach for you. You decide to stay still, not spook the wild creature in front of you. You make another choice and let your eyes fall closed.

You’re so glad to be wearing only a singlet when each hand moves to your wrists and slowly, gods so slowly and tenderly, start to skim up, up. Fingers caress your outer forearms as each thumb presses a little into the soft, paler flesh heading toward your inner elbows. There, he circles each arm, holding them in a grip that has you spinning again into fantasies of things to come. You hope.

This is where you become aware of Din’s breathing. You open your eyes and see his chest rising and falling in bursts. Fast, harsh gasps hit the modulator of his helmet.

‘Din,’ you whisper, not moving a muscle. ‘It’s okay. It’s me. Breathe.’

He gives you a nearly imperceptible nod and takes a moment to fill his lungs a few times. When he’s ready, his right hand moves from your elbow, up to your shoulder and splays there across your upper chest. His thumb rests at the base of your throat but you barely notice its experimental nudge there as his fingers curl under the strap of your top and rest underneath it. His whole hand is pressed flush against your skin.

It’s so fucking reverent you want to cry.

Then he pushes the fabric off your shoulder and down your arm, mirroring the action on your other side until your shoulders and decolletage are bare. Another long, agonising pause as he holds you there makes you feel like you’re going to astral project with tension. Your eyes look up to lock on the visage facing you – then all at once it snaps between you.

He grips your arms tight and pulls you into his chest. The hard, plated beskar seers your skin as you lift onto your toes toward him. Gripping onto his elbows over his clothed sleeves to stay steady, you nuzzle into the arched curve of his helmet, pressing your nose to where you imagine his cheek could be.

He moves, walking you backwards into the cabin.

When your calves back into the bed, Din brings his hands to the hem of your top. You raise your arms and drop to the mattress in one motion. The fabric rustles up and off for Din to toss to the side. Chest bare, you lean back to let him look at you.

The black sights of the visor stay steady on your body as he stands over you. But his hands start to move on himself. To his shoulders, his chest – clasps and buckles are released and one item after another is drawn away.

It’s like watching a God work at himself.

You rise from your elbows to your palms when he tucks his hands under his midriff and starts to rip at fasteners, tugging the top half of his flight suit loose. Huh, you think, you didn’t know it could be a two-piece.

And then all thought stops. The outfit opens down the middle and you stare as, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, he drags it out and off his shoulders. Letting it thump to the floor.

As you expected, he’s broad and hard. The muscles carry the easy definition of a fighter like himself, powerful but swift. They twitch and flex as your hungry eyes roam everywhere. Soft hair dusts his chest and funnels into an inviting trail down over his stomach and into his pants. What really captures your attention is the taut, pulsing veins highlighting his neck and collarbones, tensing beneath your gaze.

You take in each other for a beat. Then he seems to read your mind and drops to his knees between your legs. You sit up as he leans forward and gently, slowly, with hands moving to arms and with small reassuring nods from Din, the two of you come to be pressed together. Chest to naked chest. You rest each hand on his generous shoulders. His arms circle to your back and he tilts his helmet to rest over your shoulder, the delicate skin of his neck pressing there. So achingly tender.

Wait here. Wait for him to move.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, he does. Hands move to your front, sliding across your ribs and barely hesitating before cupping your breasts. He gives an experimental squeeze and teases at your peaked buds. You fall onto your back to give him full access.

His fingers find your lips. You suck them in and let your saliva coat as much as you’re able. Satisfied, he moves them back to your tits, letting the slick slide back and forth over your nipples. He’s brushing, pinching and squeezing with a pattern and pace that is so intuitive to your arousal you’re now sure he’s inside your head.

You’re pushing your chest into his ministrations, feeling every single tug and twitch shoot a jolt of pure pleasure to your pussy. It’s soaking your clothed thighs more and more but doing exactly zero to slake your cravings. You squirm and cry out, pawing aimlessly at chest, arms, helmed face.

‘Fuuhhhh,’ you pant. ‘Fuck, Din!’

At that he presses his face to your chest and draws it down your body, hard and cold forehead dragging over the skin between your tits and down your belly. His helm presses firmly on the belt at your pants, as if in protest, and you shudder with every inch of muscle as he continues down. He lays his forehead to rest directly against your clothed throbbing cunt.

You think you’ve gone insane when you swear you hear him inhale there. Can he smell through that thing? Shut up.

With his helmet pressed there, breathing in and out heavily, he whispers, ‘Mesh’la.’

You can’t help yourself. You thrust your hips up, a white-hot pulse reverberates in your cunt and you keen. It feels profane.

But he freezes.

Your eyes shoot open and you look down, a tinny shred of fear licking at your arousal.

You’ve ruined everything.

He moves away from your centre. No… you whine.

But he leans up, climbing onto the bed beside you, nudging you further up the mattress and settling at your side. He’s gazing at you and you’re not sure where his eyes are focused. It just feels like everywhere. His hands, which moved from your chest in his descent down you, now roam, uncertain.

He speaks.

‘What—’ an exhale. ‘What would you like me to do? Tell me.’

You shiver at the sound of his delicious voice. Working hard to compose yourself enough to speak, you say, ‘Just, just keep going with your hands? Whatever you want to do. Whatever you want. Just please don’t stop.’

A hand grips at the buckle of your pants; your legs tremble. ‘This?’

‘Fuck, please.’

It is quick work. You hike your hips and raise a hand to assist the worn material in sliding down your legs. You hadn’t gripped its waistband yourself, but Din has your underwear as well as your pants hooked in his fingers and they both shift down and off.

Now you’re naked and the bare hand of the Mandalorian is dragging a slow, punishing course up your entire leg. Little skitters of pleasure race ahead, gathering and creating a crescendo of sensation to release tides of wet bliss.

You think you may die as his fingertips trace a path to where you need them. Please touch me. You make a silent prayer. Touch, touch, touch.

It feels like he’s within you already. Without pausing, the index and middle fingers push in and up, separating the soaking folds around your entrance. He doesn’t even pause there, sensing your momentum, and pushes them right into the hot, clenching flesh.

The ecstatic moan that pushes up from your chest is nearly drowned out by a ragged groan from Din. You both writhe together as he works his two fingers in, draws back and circles, then pushes back in, settling into a pumping action that curls up, up.

‘How much I have wanted this, mesh’la,’ he sighs. ‘You would have no idea.’

Oh, you have some idea. ‘I—' That’s as far as you get. The pad of his thumb finds your clit.

After all the anticipation, all the yearning, all the tender build up – it’s all you need. The orgasm that rushes toward you is a wave that crests in your belly and breaks into every part of you, rising to the very crown of your head where you’ve thrown it back with mouth open in an O of ecstasy.

You open your eyes to see Din watching your face, fingers still seated inside you, and he’s murmuring, ‘That’s good, that’s so good. Fuck, so beautiful. So gorgeous. Can I do that again? Gods please, let me do that again…’

You wiggle your hips some and hiss at the intensity flickering across your whole pussy. His hand flexes there but doesn’t resume stimulating yet, waiting for you. You sense a pressure on your thigh and wonder how in the stars you hadn’t noticed his bulging erection before now, pushing as it is into your shivering flesh. You reach a hand, pausing at his sharp inhale.

You rest your palm on your leg, just by where he’s pressed into you.

‘Yes, Din,’ you say, hoping in all the worlds that you’re making eye contact with him. ‘Yes, you can, over and over, as much as you want. For- for as long as you want. And… can I?’ You glance down, then back up.

He presses the top of his helm into your forehead and you’re awash in his ragged breathing and tiny groans. As he begins to move inside you again, adding a third finger and immediately setting a renewed fire that will not take long to blaze, you feel him nod against your face.

It’s only a little fiddly as you reach around the arm working at you to open up more of his flight suit. It would be easier if he pulled his hand away for a moment, but you don’t think that’s up for negotiation, so you just push and tug until – oh, oh gods, oh fuck – his smooth, gorgeously hard cock is pressing into your skin.

You take him in hand and revel at the weight and thickness of him. You greedily explore his entire length, circling fingers over the head, wrapping your palm around him and moving down, running knuckles through the coarse hair there, and back up. You drink in every little strangled moan he gives you, senses flooded, skin sizzling with desire.

He shifts, slipping his other hand under your neck to pull you closer. You move a little to your side so you’re facing him more, and you jerk each other off. You press your lips into the cool metal of his helmet and he lets you.

He’s figured out that a thumb rubbing at your clit is going to end you the fastest, so he focuses there. But the hand cradling your head also finds a spot just behind your ear and strokes there unconsciously. That’s what really undoes you again. You cry out into the unyielding curve of beskar, and hear him muttering again, ‘yes, y-- s- so perfect, so fucking perfect…’

You lose rhythm stroking him, but he seems to be enjoying it anyway, hips jutting up into your hand and legs locking with yours to find purchase. Groaning, you drop your face to his neck and collarbone and mouth hungrily there, resetting your pace again as you feel his body start to tense. His breathing becomes short and ragged and you can feel his head pressing hard into the bed just above you.

‘F-, uh, Fuuuh, please, please,’ he’s begging you, losing his damn mind. ‘I’m going to- going to- do you want me to—’

‘Let go, Din,’ you moan into his skin. ‘Let me make you cum.’

Your side and stomach are suddenly slippery as he spills on you like a shot. You let him rut there into the hot mess you’ve made of him, taking the last as he stills. In the midst of his shuddering release, his hand still locked on your cunt creates enough friction for a third shimmering climax to wash through you and you writhe into his palm.

Never in your life had you felt so sated.

A distressed ‘ Ehhe! ’ pierces the bliss you’d lost yourselves in. A gentler, ‘buub,’ follows. You each disentangle and sit up, listening.

‘The kid!’ Din says, starting to pull at his pants and move to stand, but you reach for him in slight panic. You can’t handle the thought of seeing him cover up, close in again, just yet.

‘No, no, it’s okay. I’ll go,’ you say, laying a hand on Din’s shoulder and guiding him back down. ‘Please, please just, stay like this. I haven’t… haven’t had enough of this just yet. Okay?’

He hesitates, but stops trying to tuck himself away. You glance down and see he’s still half hard. Maybe… you think.

‘Besides,’ you say with a wink. ‘I can get dressed faster.’

Thank all the worlds, he relents, relaxes his hands and watches you stand to pick your clothing off the floor. You give him one final look and duck out to check on the child.

Just a few minutes later, you slip back into the cabin and your heart bursts.

Din is fucking naked.

While you’d been out he’d shucked off the rest of his flight suit and boots and now lay in the centre of the bed, one arm raised behind his helmet and the other over his middle, self-consciously stroking at his taut abdomen.

You gape for a moment, willing yourself to speak.

‘He was just thirsty,’ you croak out, raking your eyes up and down his body. His legs. His fucking thighs. ‘Out like a light again.’

Din doesn’t say anything, just reaches a hand for you. You check his cock, still half hard, resting against his belly. Gonna change that first, you think.

You grip the hem of your singlet and, as leisurely as you’re able, draw it up yourself, revealing just an inch of skin at a time. Din’s head rises slightly as he watches. You pause just as you’re about to bare your breasts again, do another check, getting there.

In the time it takes to tip your head back and draw the garment over you to drop it back to the floor, Din has raised up onto his elbows and he’s rock hard and twitching.

Okay, no more time wasting. You move into action, unbuckling and shoving your pants down your legs as you climb onto the foot of the bed, crawling to him. He leans forward and takes your upper arms into his hands to yank you all the way up. Your nose bumps his helmet again as you straddle his hips.

Hands come up to grip either side of your face, fingers caressing that area by your ears you apparently love and thumbs nudging at the edges of your mouth. You part your lips and let him work them in, licking and sucking at every point of contact. They taste of leather and salt and you.

You’re holding your naked cunt directly above his groin and you let it sink down so it rubs against his shaft. Slippery and so, so smooth. He moans. He pushes into you for a moment but then stills, huffing hard short breaths.

‘L- love,’ he pants, looking down between you. ‘I have to help you- ready- first--’

‘I’m ready,’ you whimper, near losing your mind at the endearment. ‘Gods, I am. I’m ready. Are you?’

His thumbs leave your mouth and he nudges your face so you focus on the visor right in front of you. He tilts his hips just so, so that the head of his cock slips perfectly to sit at your entrance. You can feel how slick you are, feel how much your body wants this gorgeous, throbbing cock to take you apart.

‘Yes,’ he rasps. ‘I want you so m- hhn!’

You take him in one long luscious sinking of your hips, not stopping until your seated flush against him. The burn feels good, the pressure at your cervix talking to your body and promising imminent bliss.

You look down at Din, he is silent but you can see the veins on his neck straining and the hollow of his throat dipping and peaking. He’s still holding your head, and as he shifts his hands you expect them to come to handle your hips. But he traces your neck and shoulders, bringing them instead to your tits, cupping them and thumbing your nipples.

He holds the rest of his body still, waiting for you, letting you choose the pace. You decide to make it long and languid to start. Settling your knees on the bed and hands braced by his shoulders, you draw yourself back up, slow and delicious. Let yourself feel every millimetre until his head is cresting at your entrance again before sliding back down.

That finally elicits a desperate, shaky groan from behind the helmet. An unintelligible string of ‘s’good, ahh- ama--, fuuhh—’ tumbles forth. You do it again, and a third time, feeling yourself covering his cock in your juices, slicker and hotter each time.

On a downward thrust you collapse into his chest, holding his sides and moaning, ‘Gods, god- You- you were made for me, Din.’ You keep him deep inside you, the pressure of his pelvis on your clit connected by a razor of pleasure to the pressure of his tip at your cervix. The sensation of being split wide open causes sparks to careen around your core.

Groaning and panting into your ear as you work yourself on him, Din braces his feet and pushes his hips up, giving you just the angle you need to reach for the peak and tumble over it. You shudder and gush around him, latching lips onto a muscled bicep and moaning into his skin.

At that he does move to grip your hips. He brings his knees higher and holds you tight. You release your mouth long enough to utter a string of begging nonsense, telling him to take you hard. And he does, he fucks up into you with wild fervour, slamming your spent hips down onto his cock. There’s nothing between your bodies but sweat and your release as he loses himself in you. You regain enough strength to set your knees and move to meet each of his thrilling thrusts.

You start to wonder how much longer he’ll last when his hold changes from pulling himself in to pushing you away. You’re confused at first but then he bursts out, ‘Gonna c--, uh, fuh, huh—’

He’s trying to pull out, so you whisper, ‘Cum, Din. Let me feel it, now, pl—! ’

A guttural ‘uhhnhh’ fills the air as he spends himself into you. His hands, the fingers of one locked to the small of your back and the others digging into your ass, could puncture you to burst. Heat and electricity already crackle across your body but the warmth of his seed turns you to cinders.

Your mingled pants and gasps settle the inferno you’d created together as the walls of the cabin reform, bringing you back into reality.

‘Wow,’ you breathe. ‘That was…’

Din moves a hand to the side of your head and carries it up to be level with his, bumping your foreheads together. He sighs, long and hard, ‘It was.’

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Even though there’s a pinch tugging at your hips, spread wide over his, you don’t feel a want to move at all. He seems to feel the same, his relaxing cock staying seated inside you. You let yourself imagine you’re one and the same, connected and bound, melted and merged.

Through your glowing haze, you feel a thump thump thump against your chest. Not your heart. His. It’s hammering.

‘You okay?’ you ask, trying to study that T visor like it has the answers to existence.

He presses his head back. You picture his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clenched, trying to will himself to calm. No clue what he looks like but it still feels vivid and real to you.

‘Yes, I am,’ he rasps. Gods, you can finally revel in the gorgeousness of that voice. ‘I am okay, I swear.’

‘Um, good?’ you say when he pauses there but doesn’t relax.

‘Yes, just,’ he murmurs, moving hands back to where they were right before you’d penetrated yourself on him – either side of your head and his thumbs seeking entrance to your mouth. You oblige and kiss and nip and lick at them with hunger.

He stares, ‘Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful.’ He moves a palm across your mouth and you lave into that too, pouring your lust into consuming whatever he can give you.

Though you’re not too lost in the feeling of making out with his hand that you don’t notice the return of pressure on your pelvic walls. No way, you think.

You push yourself up, give a lazy tilt of your hips to circle there. The feeling of him swelling inside you is absolutely intoxicating. You circle again and grin down at him.

He sits up and pulls you close, closer, starts to gently move your bodies together. It’s not long before momentum takes hold. You rock into each other as hands explore and caress everything in reach. His card through your hair, grip the back of your neck, wrap around your waist and run up and down your thighs. Yours draw nails across broad shoulders and chest, cradle his helmet, trace the lines of his abdomen and clutch his arms for purchase.

He’s mumbling something but it’s incoherent and you’re just chanting his name, minds gone.

You reach for your fifth, telling him you’re close, so close… Gods, Din.

‘It’s yours, mesh’la,’ he grits. ‘Let it be yours-- it's all yours.’

‘Fuh-- huh!’ Sound sticks in your throat. He murmurs quiet affirmations and praise as you’re awash in bliss. Just as the exquisite feeling ebbs, Din rolls you both over to fuck you down into the bed before going rigid. He sighs through it, then stills.

You can’t physically hold your hips open anymore so you nudge and stroke at him until he moves off. He pulls you to his side and wraps you in an embrace. You tuck in, stroke and caress neck and chest and bicep.

After a very generous stretch of lounging into him, you excuse yourself to the fresher to clean up a little. Just a little though, the slippery feeling of his release twice over too delicious to not hold onto a little more. When you return to the bed, he has a similar thing on his mind.

‘Cyar’ika,’ he starts. Pauses. Sighs and goes on. ‘I am not sure how to ask this, but…’

You stop him, curl back into his side and play a hand coyly over the gorgeous planes of his body.

‘Got the implants years ago,’ you say, just above a whisper.

‘Oh, okay,’ he says, skimming his knuckles up and down your side.

‘Yeah,’ you blurt. ‘Nobody wanted precious heiress knocked up before her time…’

Why’d you say that? You want to push that all away as quickly as you can, so you climb onto him again, finding him ready and willing beneath you.

This is where Din wants to live for the rest of his days. Laying on his back, arms looped around you and your head nestled against his chest. Your hand rests over his heart and you are gently pushing a thumb back and forth. It’s heaven.

But something still hangs in the air between you. The two of you had pushed through much of the veils of doubts and fears you’d been stringing up since meeting, trying to protect yourselves from the intensity of this feeling. Even the last few days, after everything, you’d been dancing around each other, waiting for the right time, the right way…

Now that you were pressed skin to skin, all he wants is to let you in.

‘I am… so sorry, mesh’la,’ he says. You tip your head up to him with a curious mm ? ‘For before.’ You lower your gaze again. Okay, still some distance needed for this. But you nestle a little closer, tucking your face into his neck. Keep going…

‘For how I acted, how I treated you. The things I said, I should have known better. Understood… But I was…’ A heavy sigh, just say it. ‘I was afraid. I thought I was losing…’

The words won’t come, so he settles for rubbing your arm instead.

A long, quiet moment stretches out between you. You make small motions against each other, a caress, a squeeze. You talk each other through the things you cannot say.

‘I’m sorry too,’ you finally say. He wishes you didn’t feel the need; it was all his fault. ‘Guess I was afraid too… I was just starting to feel… at home, out here. Having a past I’ve tried to get away from collide with the present I’ve been wanting so badly to… to hold onto. I just--’

He moves a hand to stroke at your hair.

Your next words are whisper quiet. He’s so glad his helmet sensors are still dialled up or he wouldn’t have caught it, ‘Been so long since I felt any sense of home.’

His response is possibly way too much, way too soon, but it feels so right he just lets himself say it. ‘You’ll have a home here. Always.’

Back to silent communication for a moment, letting touch do the telling.

Then you laugh lightly and the tension eases some. ‘You realise that means you can’t go anywhere, right?’

As if he’s ever going anywhere else, but he asks anyway, ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’d be stranded!’ You finally lift your head to look at him, eyes twinkling. ‘No point being on the best ship in the verse if I can’t go anywhere.’

There’s so much to process in that sentence, he focuses on the simplest. ‘You can’t… you don’t know how to pilot?’

You shrug, ‘Never did have a chance to learn.’

He sits up a little, leans away so he can see you more. ‘You could pull the Crest apart and put it back together in a day, but you can’t fly it?’

‘Do pilot and mechanic mean the same thing to you?’ you ask, smiling wider.

‘Well, no. But I thought… given everything else…’

You keep looking at him, eyes flicking across the motionless mask as if you’re reading every thought in his head. Slowly, the look shifts from one of amusement to something deeper – softer and hungrier.

He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say, so he settles for the next best thing. ‘Want me to show you?’

You grin, flop your head back onto his chest and hold him tight. ‘More than anything.’

Yeah, this is where Din wants to live for the rest of his days.

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#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #star wars #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

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goosewriting · 1 year

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Okay, I'm a sucker for these ones, but how about...

Y/N from our world falling into the ROTTMNT world?

Would Y/N explain that they come from a world where the boys are from a TV show, or just keep that one secret for their whole life?

If the boys find out, how would they react?

How would Splinter react?

I can imagine Y/N walking up to their turtle of choice and just breaking down crying, hugging him(especially after seeing the movie) and telling him he didn't deserve that pain.

Falling for you (rottmnt Leo x reader)

summary: reader falls into the rottmnt world and comes across the turtle brothers.

relationship: Rise Leo x GN reader

warnings: kinda meta i guess, this one’s kinda sad u_u sorry

word count: 2k

A/N: this fic has been marinating in my wips for almost a year. better later than never amirite? o(-< sorry for the delay! also i couldn’t for the life of me figure out the other turtles, but i liked it enough to post as is. I might come back to this one at some point! this trope is S+ tier btw, thank you so much for the request!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

There was nothing you were looking forward to more than getting home, taking a nice shower, and collapsing in your bed. This week had been way too hectic for your taste. Recounting all the events in your mind with a slight scoff, you walked down the dim street. Only a couple more blocks and you’d finally be home. If you had the energy, you might even treat yourself to rewatching the Rise of the TMNT movie. You’d definitely laugh and cry just the same as when you first watched it. It was just too good.

You were so lost in thought, that the sudden strong gust of wind took you by surprise. Holding onto your jacket and backpack for dear life, you stumbled over your own feet, knocked over by the sheer force of the draft. With nothing near you to lean onto or take a hold of, you stepped onto the manhole in front of you, which to your horror completely gave in to your weight. With a shriek you fell down the hole, but instead of being engulfed in darkness and having a nasty landing as you expected, you were floating in a tunnel of colours and flashes. As they started to twist around you quicker by the second, you started to feel nauseous, not being able to tell apart up from down and left from right, so you closed your eyes shut and braced for the impact.

After a couple more spins in this strange space, you landed a bit roughly on your side and rolled over. Trembling, you took a couple of breaths to steady yourself. You could feel a slight sting on your hip and elbow where you had landed, but nothing else seemed to hurt. Tentatively opening your eyes, you were sort of expecting to be covered in sewage or at least some dirt, but instead, you found yourself on the ground in what seemed to be a narrow alley. It was dark, so you couldn’t see well, but something was definitely off. The lights coming from the main street were way too bright and neon-y. You also noticed the lack of that typical city smell. Standing to your feet, you dusted yourself off, only to realise that your arms weren’t your arms. Your hands, legs, even your backpack next to you on the ground; it all looked cartoony!

Grabbing your things and running towards the street you spun around to take it all in and concluded that you were, in fact, in a cartoon world of sorts. How hard did I hit my head?! you asked yourself. Because clearly, this could not be real.

Different characters passed you by on the street, ignoring you. You walked a little farther, trying to recognise the style or some of the shops, but to no avail.

Just as you were turning a corner, you saw a sign that you immediately recognised: Albearto’s. Falling into a jog to check out the shop, you failed to notice the giant vehicle approaching you. And apparently so did the driver, as it came to a screeching halt before you, slightly bumping into you in the process. You were yet again knocked down and on the floor.

“If I could stop being assaulted for one second, that would be great” you grumbled to yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?” a voice asked from the direction of the vehicle.

You jumped back to your feet, ready to give them an earful for being so careless, but as your eyes came up to the scene before you, all words left your brain.

In front of you was none other than the turtle tank, four colour-coded turtle bros walking towards you with worried faces.

And once again, you hit the ground.

You passed out.

— — —

When you came back to, you found yourself lying on a couch. Shielding your eyes from the lights with your hand, you slowly stood up. Taking a look around you immediately recognised that you were in the lair, in the projector room to be precise.

“Well, someone is finally awake,” you heard a voice behind you. A voice you’d recognise anywhere, amongst hundreds of people.

You slowly turned around to look at Leo, who was leaning on the back of the couch, looking down at you.

“Are you okay? You came out of nowhere, we didn’t see you!” he asked and gave you a once over to check for any discomfort. “This is why we don’t let Raph drive” he added with a lopsided grin, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder.

You blinked once, twice. And tore your gaze from him to your hands in your lap, fisting the blanket.

Should you tell him? That he and his family live in a cartoon world? That he’s your blorbo and you love him with the intensity of a thousand burning suns? What timeline are you in anyways? Did… that already happen?

Daring to look up at him again, you noticed he was wearing the black arm wraps. He looked at you with a quizzical, almost irritated expression, since you weren’t answering. You gave one last look over your shoulder behind you, and there were in fact a couple of abandoned subway wagons in view. So they were at the new lair.

For now you decided to play along.

Turning around back to Leo, who was still waiting for your answer, you gave him a smug look.

“Do you always bring back the people you almost run over to your home?” you asked.

“Only the pretty ones,” he responded. You looked at him in shock. He mirrored your expression, realising how that sounded.

“That was way creepier than I intended, wait,” he groaned and hid his face behind the back of the couch. You heard him sigh, and then he walked around it to sit on the arm rest beside you.

“Let’s start over,” he smiled and held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Leo, but you call me Neon Leon”.

Smiling at his self given nickname, you introduced yourself as you grabbed his hand with both of yours, and just kind of held it. You held his gaze as your eyes softened.

“Do- do we know each other?” he asked with an expression that was something between confused and amused. “Usually people don’t react this calm to, well, this,” he explained, using his other hand to gesture at himself.

“I can’t see why,” you replied, biting your tongue just in time before adding a ‘since I like what I see’.

“Isn’t that why you fainted though? Out of shock?” he questioned and his eyes fell down to his hand, which was still in yours. Feeling the heat rise up to your face, you immediately let go.

“No, I, uhm…” You cleared your throat, trying to come up with an excuse. “It was more a shock of almost being run over rather than seeing who it was,” you lied, but commended yourself mentally since it was believable and much better than the truth.

“Understandable,” he nodded. “You’re fine though, right? Donnie ran some tests and we didn’t see any major injuries or anything. Ah, by the way, Donnie is my brother. There’s four of us, actually. Or five, if you count Splinter. Six, if you count April…” he started rambling, counting on his fingers. You noticed he didn’t mention Casey.

The rest of the day was spent with Leo giving you a tour of the lair, introducing you to everyone, and showing you his Jupiter Jim comic collection.

When he asked where you were from and other similar questions, you tried to keep it as vague as possible. You hoped that he wouldn’t think you were hiding something because you were a spy for the Foot or something like that. You just couldn’t tell him the truth because if you did, he’d want to know how the show ended, and you don’t want to be responsible for messing up this timeline, whichever it is.

So you tried to enjoy the evening as much as possible, playing games with the turtles, eating pizza and reading comics.

As the night rolled in, you felt the exhaustion of everything that had happened sinking in. Looks like the lack of energy from your world had followed you even here. With a hearty yawn you stretched your limbs.

“Looks like someone’s tired,” Mikey giggled.

“Yeah, I think I’ll head home-” you started saying in your sleep-deprived state, only to abruptly stop yourself, eyes now wide open. “Actually, I just remembered I don’t have a place to stay. I got… kicked out” you said, and technically, it wasn’t even a complete lie this time.

“Aw no, poor thing!” Mikey whined and came to hold you in a comforting manner. “You can crash here for now. Right guys?” he looked at his brothers, giving them the best puppy eyes he could manage. Sighing, the others gave in. They weren’t all that keen on letting a stranger stay, but you seemed nice enough.

Once again you were tucked into the couch, this time with more pillows and blankets. They had even offered you some spare clothes to change into.

Coming out of the bathroom you made your way to your makeshift bed, looking down at your attire. Seeing your own cartoon self in the mirror was weird enough, but now here you were in Leo’s baggy shirt and basketball shorts and it dawned on you that you didn’t know if you’d still be here tomorrow. You had no idea how you had landed here in the first place, or if you were just imagining it. Even then, you wanted to take out as much as possible from whatever time you’d get to spend here.

So you climbed into bed, and waited until you could hear faint snores coming from the bedrooms. Going over the words one last time in your head, you tip-toed your way as quietly as possible to Leo’s room. Gosh, you looked like such a creep right now. But you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Carefully standing next to his bed, you noticed how sprawled out he was, his sleeping mask kinda askew on his face, mouth open. At the sight, your hand came up to cover your mouth, stopping the emerging giggles. He just looked too cute.

Taking a deep breath, you crouched down and held onto his bed frame. You spoke in nothing more than a whisper.

“I don’t know if I’ll be here in the morning, but I just wanted you to know that this was the best day of my life. Never would I have thought I’d meet you for real. You’ve always kept me going when life got difficult, I…” You paused, bitterly smiling at the fact that you were about to profess your love and admiration to a fictional character. “It’s unfair, really. You have no idea who I am, but there’s so much I want to tell you, yet I can’t, I- I shouldn’t. Just know this: You are loved. You are worthy. You are a good leader. You are a good brother. And if I am still here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next… I wish for nothing more than to be by your side.”

Suddenly your mind was flooded with the events of the Krangpocalypse, and you felt the tears building up. You stood up and turned to leave, but stopped in your tracks. For a moment you battled with yourself, but ended up taking a step back again to lean over Leo and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. As you leaned back up he stirred, and you turned to make a quick leave.

What you didn’t know however was that he’d been awake and had heard everything, but was too shocked to react. After some minutes pondering if he should go talk to you or not, he decided it couldn’t wait until the next day; he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways after what you said, especially the way you said it.

Climbing out of bed Leo silently made his way to the projector room only to find an empty couch.

You were gone without a trace.

~~~

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iamjellyfish · 17 days

Text

The idol soldier. | part 2

Part 1

A/n: I f*cking cringe reading my first fics, I deeply apologize to anyone having to deal with the part one. Anyways, I’m not out of hiatus yet, I finished writing my oneshot to be review but I barely want to draw so I might as well as writing something else for a change.

So-, let's try our best to finish this series so I can write smut for y’all.

Second note: this fic take place after the manga and uh, everyone lived! (Idc Shinomiya Isao is my father figure HAHAHA)

Warning: angst, hurt/no comfort- yet, multiple angst trope, the angst demon got me again rahhh. Prob OOC (I’m practicing writing Hoshina’s accent like how other writer do).

Summary: Soshiro proves to you that the life-fighting kaiju isn’t stable enough for love, so the idol soldier second-guesses her decision. She was urged by her manager to return to being an idol, pressure from fans and companies takes a toll on y/n. Would you leave? Or despite all of it, would you stay?

“Guess Jelly really only belongs on stage.”

You mutter into your knees as you hug it and sigh tiringly. The dim light of the phone still reflects into your eyes even if you don’t want to see it. It was the chat between you and Soshiro, your current boyfriend, the one that melted your idol heart and flew you to the moon, but he was a busy man – he is a vice-captain after all. You don’t want to be selfish, you really do, but you also don’t want to be second-priority to him.

17:01 Y/n: Soshiro <3 Do you wanna go get some street food near the base?

17:23 Soshiro: Sorry darling, works.

17:24 Y/n: Oh- okay.

18:00 Soshiro: I will make up for ya alright? How about yer’ treat yourself something nicely?

Soshiro sent you some cash.

18:01 Y/n: You don’t have to! Really.

18:59 Soshiro: Nah, bae. Treat urself, yer’ my princess. ILY alright? Gtg.

19:00 Y/n: Oh, okay. I will come over as usual alright?

Soshiro left you on seen and heart your message.

You know to the man, work is his first priority, work is his life. Soshiro even told you his past one time and you will forever remember every word of his because that is when you realize, you, y/n, and Jelly is his second priority. Blades and works will be his first priority for a long time, heck, you even think the time you retire as an idol or release your 100th album, Soshiro will still have blades and work as his first priority. And Soshiro knows this too, he tries to make up for you by gifting expensive gifts, giving you cash, and letting you sleep over at his place on the base.

Now is 11 pm, and you already prepared everything to wait for Soshiro to come back. The bed? You wash the sheet at 5 in the morning, and by the afternoon, it is soft and clean (Soshiro is a clean man, you just like to help him with cleaning so he can rest after a work day). You decorate it a little with your stuffed animals, and you make sure everything is perfect for Soshiro when he comes back. So laying on the bed, finger-swiping on social media on a secret account of yours, you wait for Soshiro, your man to return home.

Yours e/c eyes scan through the posts, fingers clicking on the “save pictures” button on posts where they have Soshiro’s picture, fan cam, or edits. After a while, a viral post popped up, it was about you.

“The mysterious disappearance of Jelly, the successful idol” was the post’s title. The context of it is just theories on why you disappear for a good long while, even if songs are still released but your appearance was kept at a minimum. You admit you do it on purpose to chase being a JAKDF and of course, being with Soshiro. But you still shoot the music video, still pump out goods, you made sure even if you lower your appearance as Jelly, it would be covered up with excuses like “health issue” “problem with the company” etc…

But seems like it still isn’t enough. The post only covers theories like “Jelly secretly quitting” or “Jelly might have serious health problems”, the worst one is probably “Jelly is secretly got bullied and done dirty by the company”. Not a problem, just let the post die down and everything will be fine-

“JELLY MIGHT QUIT BEING AN IDOL FOR HER SECRET LOVER”.

Fuck fuck fuck. Someone definitely leaking this one out. You’re in deep trouble. In fact, you doubt the post could die down because the post is growing too fast and those damn news channels already covering this. The proof is just blurry images of you and Soshiro, even with just 3 burry images, the fans are already in rage (You are kinda a bit sad and graceful at the same time that Soshiro are too busy to even go on a date with you). But now, you’re afraid of what could happen, what if they doxx Soshiro? What if they found out? Nope, too dangerous.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You pick up the phone only to be get yell at by the manager.

“Great! Look at our Jelly! Have fun being a Disney princess chasing after some guy? Because we are having a meltdown because of you! If only you weren’t the fan favorite, we would have let you go- “

You want to cry so much; you want to counter ‘But it's Soshiro!’ but you know damn well your manager doesn’t give a shit. And now with everything going down, you know full well that you going to be too dangerous for anyone involved, even for Soshiro. You don’t want to bring him any distress, and you don’t even think you could handle the fan’s rage and Soshiro giving you the second-place treatment at the same time, your poor heart with crack into a million pieces. After a good while of yelling and berating, your manager finally spoke up.

“Alright, Y/n. Here is what gonna do, I have forced to quit you from the JAKDF. Tomorrow morning, you leave. Am I clear? I will send the details later but finish your fairy tale love story because this is the last time you see him.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You said as she cut the call. Your eyes teary as her words finally hit you and it hurts. Never seeing Soshiro again? That’s your worst nightmare! But you know you can’t easily quit being an idol, contracts, and lawsuits, you can’t risk it. As you finally fix yourself up, it is already past midnight and Soshiro finally returns, he fumbles on his words as he realizes how late it is.

“Oh- my, sorry princess, I got carried away when training.”

He smiles, trying to hide his guilt as he walks to the bed and lies down beside you. You just nodded, you couldn’t even be angry right now, not at him, not when you knew you might never see him again. You let it pass, just like every time. Tonight, you will cherish every second, every touch of his… as long as possible. So you pull him into a kiss and cuddle him, Soshiro doesn’t think much but accepts your affections like normal.

3 in the morning. You packed your stuff, Soshiro is still asleep but you couldn’t even sleep. You spend a good long while staring into his face, trying to remember every single detail, every feature of his. You wish to never forget it, to never forget him. You left him a note simply saying “Let’s break up. Goodbye.”, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the truth, you just hoped that he would think you’re a brat that don’t understand his priority so you left.

And with that, you left. Without a trace.

Mina of course know this, but she was asked to keep a secret about the details. She couldn’t tell Soshiro why you left anyway, she knows how broken he could get if he knew the truth. So she kept it a secret.

The sun was warm today, this is the first time Soshiro would find himself waking up and you’re nowhere to be found. He didn’t think much, normally he would wake up before you, give you a little peck on the cheek, and go on with his day. Before he left, he suddenly recognized there was a note on the table, and his hand reached out to open it, “Let’s break up. Goodbye.”, you were broken up with him? No, is it because you felt left out again? Is it because he didn’t take his time to go out with you again? Or is it because he messed up somehow?

That didn’t matter now, he needed to talk with you. As he pulls out his phone, he realizes you sent him a huge cash with a message “Here is everything you gave me, I will return it to you. The gifts will be sent back to you a few days later”. Soshiro was shocked, he wanted to call you, to text you but you blocked him. He texted Mina and Okonogi for answers but they both can’t really answer much.

Soshiro literally begged in his head that somehow you would unblock him and let him have chance to explain. But his past came back haunting him, how could he not realize how secretly hurt you are? How could he not realize all the hints? You were hurt and now his princess is leaving him forever. Right now, he has no way to contact you, so with a heavy heart, he has to surrender for now.

A few months later, shortly after you broke up with Soshiro, you returned to be an idol and have been thriving since. You did have to make an apology saying you were suffering from health problems, and that you didn’t want to make fans worry so you had to limit your appearance and surprisingly everyone was buying it. The scandal died down after that, thankfully.

Jelly has been releasing new albums and you have to prepare for concerts so you have to practice extra hard for those. As you said goodbye to your group members, you quickly returned to check your phone before returning to your dorm.

“Hm... nothing much.”

You said as you read through the posts. You did have to block Soshiro everywhere and even stuff about him on the internet or else you gonna brawl your eyes out crying. But then, something caught your eye, it was a post about you, basically just dating rumors with another male famous idol. You recognize him as an idol you met only a few times, exchanged small talks, and got interviews with, but nothing much. But seems like it was enough for fans to start rumors, you chuckle to yourself. In this field, some idol even plays the couple of games for extra clout from rumors but it usually ends up dying down or overlapping with other trends. You could never do that though, but you could sense that your manager might want that.

And you were right.

In the next few interviews, you were asked to drop hints that further make the rumors about your dating more ‘real’. You didn’t think much of it but oh boy, Soshiro was deeply hurt. He goes on a spiral, and when he finds out about the rumors, the man already thinks about it “What if he treats her better so she left me to be with him?” “Did she really think dating an idol is better for her?” “Did he treat her right?”. But you double down and make it worse by dropping little innocent hints here and there, making everything worse. The tea was hot and you made it extra boiling.

“Oh, I think (idol-name) is really cool, he is really kind.”

“My type is probably someone that can understand how hard it like being an idol.”

Your eyes would exchange a little innocent look to his eyes and Soshiro already knows he hate it. He misses you deeply, and sometimes he even thinks about being an idol so he can be with you. He even went and begged Mina to somehow contact you and beg you to return, Soshiro thought that he might actually be dead this time. The moment the viral video of you and the idol helping each other for a gameshow, Soshiro wants to bury himself 6 feet under.

You’re really cruel to him, at least right now. But even if you were the cruel poison, he will still drink it down, because it’s you. When Soshiro thinks about it, he realizes how important you are to him, he can’t afford to lose you, and he can’t get over you. He will do anything just to see you again, even if it’s something he might regret. So when the ticket to meet you after the concert lottery was announced, Soshiro thought he have used all his life luck to pull the ticket. He was happy is the simplest answer.

So when the time comes, you walk on stage, singing and dancing. Soshiro was nostalgic back to the day when he first listens to your song, first going to your concert and you winked at him while on stage. Did you know it then? That you would fall for him? Loved him but only to be treated like second-choice? The thought haunts him but right now, he is the closest to you ever since that day you left. Soshiro will risk everything he has to get you back.

If wanted him to buy you a new dress, he would gift you an entire wardrobe. If you wanted a house, he would buy a mansion. If you want him to change his haircut, he will. Anything just for you, his princess.

a/n: I wanna give a special thanks to myself for having a Soshiro brainrot at 12 in the morning and writing this ‘till 2:21 and start hallucinating.

#kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kn8 x reader #kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8

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