#Painting sets and humming a little tune in his head and relaxing

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

I had this idea for my 8th year fic (that I have mostly dropped bc I felt like this storyline was making the fic too complicated) about the muggle studies class doing a play and Ron and Draco are playing the leads bc they’re the best actors in the group but the leads happen to be a married couple so they have to (petition to of their own volition bc it’s not in the fucking script) kiss onstage.

[sidemari]

• "The way I love you"•

A short compilation of each character's ways of showing they love you.

Characters included: Aphelios, Hwei, Jayce, Jhin, Jinx, Sett, Silco, Viktor, Yone (separately and in this order) x GN!Reader

Warning: Mentions of Jhin's gun in his text section, since we're talking about a criminal psychopath, lol. Other than that, it's just a silly and cute post.

Aphelios

He must admit that his favorite place in the world is when you're sitting with him on the couch or even in bed, with your back against his torso, his legs wrapped around yours and his head resting on your shoulder as you read the pages of a book out loud.

"Some things are more precious because they don't last long"* You read the sentence, letting it sink in. "Do you agree with that, Phel?"

His eyes widened, he wasn't really paying attention to the story, even though it was a classic of literature. He was just enjoying how pleasant your voice sounded.

"I bet you weren't paying much attention"

He just nodded, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment.

His hand squeezed yours in apology.

You squeezed it back, letting him know it was okay.

"Aren't you two adorable?" Alune sang in Aphelios's thoughts.

*"The Picture of Dorian Gray" reference.

Hwei

Letting you see his most secret artworks was the way he could show his love for you. Letting you participate in the creation of new pieces was also common, with him patiently guiding you through the process.

"Are you sure about this?" You asked anxiously, trembling when he put the paint-soaked brush in your hands. He just timidly smiled before nodding.

"You inspire not only my art, but my soul as well" His hand covered yours, helping you to put the final brushstrokes on the canvas. "I want you to be part of this"

Jayce

You could say this man likes to be a provider. That being said, he would do anything on his reach to make you happy.

And what usually makes you happy is a whole body massage after a full day of fiddling with trinkets and dealing with daunting equations in the lab.

You sighed in frustration as you laid down on the bed after showering, your aching muscles making you uncomfortable. His hands squeezed your shoulders gently, making you whimper softly.

"You're tense" His hands worked on the right places so you could finally relax. "Let me help you with that"

"You don't have to-" You couldn't finish your line, not when he was so efficiently taking away your pain.

"See?" He teased. "Let me spoil you a little, love"

Jhin

He allows you to play his piano, take off his mask and even hold Whisper - his gun - whenever you pleased. That was his deviant way of showing you were a slightly more important piece in his performance.

"When will you put this to good use, my muse?" He asked, playfully tracing patterns against your thigh with his gun. With the time you’d known him, you knew better than to give in to his distorted ideas.

"Preferably never" You muttered, taking Whisper off his hand and setting it aside. "I learned a new sheet while you were gone, wanna hear it?"

Jinx

She lives for cuddling with you.

It's always the peak of her day.

It feels so intimate and perfect.

Being with you, feeling the softness of your skin, the warmth of your body, the smell of your shampoo and cologne, feeling you melt against her, letting go of your worries as she hums a familiar tune, is the closest thing to heaven she could ever get.

"I could stay like this forever" You whispered, feeling her chuckle against your nape.

"Did you swap your shampoo brand?"

"Jinx…" You deadpanned.

"I'm just teasing you" She kissed your hair. "I could spend eternity with you in my arms"

Sett

This seems so obvious, but not only would he let you freely touch his ears, he would also ask you to give them the attention they need. Also, he would gladly allow you to see through his tough facade, giving you the chance to know how kind and pure he can be.

It was a funny scene, to say the least. A man of almost two meters of height, in his knees, with his head resting on your lap, confessions leaving his lips.

"This feels good…" He sighed, closing his eyes in bliss as you played with his ears. You pulled one of them playfully. "H-Hey!"

"You are really something" You mused.

Silco

Almost every night you can prepare for laying down on the couch, with your head on his lap, his fingers combing through your hair as he tells you stories about his past.

Often you fall asleep like that, with him taking you to your bedroom after he notices you wouldn't wake up so easily.

"We used to meet a lot back then, it was-" He was missing your voice responding to his comments. It was when he noticed you had fallen asleep, looking so vulnerable and precious as he played with your hair. "Guess I'll have to finish this story tomorrow"

Viktor

Brews coffee or makes tea for you every day, appearing by your side on the laboratory to help you unwind in the moments you were feeling exhausted or distressed with your work. It's his way of showing he cares about you.

"Here, have this" he squeezed your shoulders, taking your attention away from the trinkets above your desk.

"Hot chocolate today?" You asked quietly, standing up from your seat and taking the cup in your hands. "What made you change your mind?"

"It releases dopamine, you'll thank me later" He kissed the top of your head, making you sigh in delight.

Yone

Letting you in when his world was nothing but chaos was enough to show you he loved you dearly.

He had faced horrible creatures and devilish days for years straight, still, he let his guard down and allowed you to be part of his life when it was pure hell.

You caressed his hair with delicacy, soothing him after a day of battles.

"Can I hug you?" You asked quietly, your fingers now stroking his cheek.

"Please" He whispered against your lips, sighing heavily when you pulled him impossibly close, "You make me feel like I'm alive again" He muttered against your neck.

[thefiery-phoenix]

Hello! Is it ok if I request Yandere headcanons for Gitae kim? It’s ok if you’re not ok with it! Also just wanted to say that I really love all your Yandere content!

YANDERE GITAE KIM HEADCANONS

Freaking hell, he creeps me TF out but why does he look so good, it's just unfair

Please, for the sake of your own sanity, RUN. Just RUN. That's it. Or at least, run as much as you can since he'll end up finding you anyway since he's the leader of a freaking Cartel and the son of Gapryong Kim after all and is a complete sadistic beast in the form of a man. It's rare that he would ever develop feelings for someone and even if he does, he'll be too egoistic and arrogant and proud to admit it, he'll treat you more like a pet of some sort to be precise. But you're HIS little pet, that he loves in his own dark twisted way. It doesn't matter how you meet this deranged flesh eating cannibal here, the second he sets his eyes on you and his mouth curves upwards into a smirk, that's when you're a goner and you might as well just kiss goodbye to your life and freedom

It was a usual day for you and you were walking back to your house after a long tiring day. You put on some earphones and walked down the alleyway, humming to your favorite tunes feeling the cool breeze against your skin. You tried to ignore the men lurking in the alleyway with beer bottles and cigarettes strewn on the ground as they looked drunk and intoxicated while their lecherous gazes landed on you, leering at you and making all sorts of lewd perverse comments about your body that made your skin crawl. You put your head down and didn't want to get into some kind of confrontation which was the last thing you wanted, when one of them ended up grabbing you by your wrist and you screeched on top of your lungs and thrashed around for all you were worth, pleading with them to let you go as tears streamed down your cheeks and your neatly combed hair was now frizzled and became unkempt with a few of your hair strands falling into your face. One of the men ended up striking you hard across your face as you whimpered in pain and clutched at your now stinging cheek and trembled. Before one of them was about to tear off your shirt, in the blink of an eye, the man's hand was now on the ground leaking crimson as the man screamed in agony and fear and you felt your heart stop beating when your gaze landed on a raven haired guy with blood splattered across his well toned muscular chest and had a black leather jacket with a cruel smile etched on his face as he watched the man fall to the ground, whimpering at the sight of his severed hand

What the man did next would remain ingrained into your memory forever. The stranger with the axe swung his axe around and the head of the man who'd been tormenting you now lay on the ground, his crimson blood painting the gravel of the ground crimson as he cut off a chunk of his flesh and bit into it and tore through the meat like an apex predator. At this point you didn't know if you were safe even after being supposedly saved by this man in front of you as his eyes landed on your whimpering and trembling figure and he smirked sadistically. "Relax little girl, I'm not going to eat you...unless you want me to'' he spoke as his eyes surveyed across your features. You reminded him of a scared vulnerable little prey, a weak little lamb that he could take advantage of and the mere thought of it just excited him as his eyes glinted with malice. Before he could even say something else, your fear consumed you and you ended up blacking out and losing your consciousness. You were about to pummel straight to the ground before he grabbed you by your waist and held you in his arms as he let out a soft chuckle, amused that you fell for him already which did give him a bit of an ego boost

You were so weak, so helpless and so fragile like a little doll that he would love to have in his grasp. He wonders how you'd react if you'd see him in his full glory while he beats up people and murders them on a usual day, you wouldn't even last a second without trembling and crying like the helpless little lamb that you were, which was cute in his opinion. "Looks like I'm takin' you home, eh?'' he said as he hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of flour and fished out your ID to find your address and made his way to your house. You were quite surprised when you woke up the next day in your own bed and you felt your head was slightly groggy as you massaged your temples and sighed to yourself, secretly glad you were away from that cannibal. You made your way into the living room only to find the same guy napping on your couch, with blood still splattered over his chest as your eyes widened and your face paled and you let out a shrill screech of bloody murder. "Damn it woman...can't even let me nap after I saved you...'' grumbled the guy as he looked at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. He enjoyed watching you squirm and fidget nervously, he could see you were torn between trying to be a good host and thanking him for saving you yesterday to contemplating passing out again. "You know...I expect some sort of thanks from you little girl'' he said as he got up from your couch and strode over to you, his massive frame towering over your body as you gulped nervously

"I-I could give you money if you want...please don't kill me'' you whimpered. "Silly naive girl, who said I wanted your money...you're interesting...I'm keeping you with me'' he said with a smirk. You tried to make a run for it when he grabbed your hands and pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you condescendingly, "Well now that's just rude isn't it? You should thank your savior properly. Now don't make this hard for both of us...be a good little girl for your savior, would you?" he asked as he patted your cheek a few times and caressed your cheek as he lifted you in his arms yet again and you let out a nervous squeak. "Don't you think you should get to know me or something before you literally kidnap me?" you asked him as he looked at you with an amused smile on his face. "Plenty of time to do all that get to know you crap. I'm Gitae by the way since you're so insistent on introductions and crap and this isn't a kidnapping...I'm taking what's mine'' he said as he carried you out of your house

What he wants, he gets. That's it. He wasn't going to waste a single second without taking you back with him, of course, he could have kidnapped you in the night but the element of surprise was what made things more interesting for him. Your cute little reactions to whatever he did riled him up so much. No way was he going to let you go now. The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a black car with him next to you and a few other people who had tattoos as you couldn't believe what you'd gotten yourself into. You silently let tears stream down your face and you looked out the window. Gitae wrapped a black jacket around you since you were still in your night clothes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Don't get fooled by his actions though, he's as unpredictable as the weather

If you thought Samuel or Eugene were messed up psychopaths, allow me to introduce you all to the poster boy of being a RED BANNER. He's obsessive, manipulative and won't hesitate to literally gaslight you. While he won't physically hurt you, the same cannot be said to those around you unfortunately. He wants your attention on him, he wants you to cling to his arm like the helpless little doll that you are and look at him with those wide eyes of yours, being all pliant and dependent on him. Whenever you squirm when he touches you he just finds it so amusing and cute, he can't help but put you on his lap when he has his meetings with the men from his cartel while you have a pink collar around you pretty little neck that has HIS name on it so people will know you belong to him. As if those love bites and hickeys on your neck, thighs and arms aren't a testament of you being his. He likes marking you wherever he can, you're his property, HIS doll. Of course, anyone who looks at you for a moment too long or if their gaze wanders to a certain part of your body that belongs to him, he's just going to gouge their eyes out like knife cutting through a slab of butter. And then he'd kiss you on your soft kissable lips possessively and aggressively like a dying man needing air, running his hands over your body till you're literally gasping for breath, in front of everyone else to show those losers that they won't ever be able to have you as their minds are now ingrained with the dire consequences of laying their eyes on Gitae Kim's girl

Whatever hopes you have of escaping from him, it's best to get it out of your mind before he ends up killing and eating one of your dear loved ones right in front of you. You're his little pet, he won't tolerate any form of disobedience from you and he'll tell you how it's your fault they're dead and it's all because you dared to leave him. Your punishment is getting handcuffed to the bed till you're allowed to walk. It's best to just accept his advances towards you because there is no escaping from this deranged psycho at all...

[httpsdana]

Would you write an early morning cuddles with kenan. x

Daylight~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I changed the fic only a little bit cuz I feel like I write a lot abt lazy mornings 😭

The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting the bedroom in hues of gold and pink.

Kenan stirred awake, his internal clock tuned perfectly to his early training schedule. He turned his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at the love of his life, peacefully sleeping beside him.

Her hair was a mess, sprawled over her pillow in soft waves, and her face was relaxed in the kind of serenity only sleep could bring. Kenan’s chest ached with affection as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, careful not to wake her.

“Good morning aşkım” he whispered softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. (my love)

Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. He pulled back reluctantly, knowing he had to leave, though every fiber of his being wanted to stay wrapped up in her warmth.

He slipped out of bed quietly, taking his clothes with him to the bathroom so he doesn't wake her up.

He stepped out of the bathroom after he finished, grabbing his training bag as quietly as possible. Before leaving, he took one last glance at her, his heart swelling with love.

“I love you” he murmured, pressing one last kiss on her forehead, knowing she couldn’t hear him but saying it anyway.

Hours later, the sun was higher in the sky when Kenan returned home, his body slightly sore but his spirits lifted. Training had gone well, but all he’d been able to think about was getting back to her. He pushed the door open, setting his bag down quietly in the hallway, and headed toward the bedroom.

She was still asleep. The sight of her wrapped up in the blankets made him chuckle softly. She looked so cozy, so utterly at peace, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

Kenan walked to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to wash off the sweat and grime from training. As he dried himself off and slipped into a pair of soft sweatpants, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of climbing back into bed with her.

The mattress dipped slightly as he joined her, and he carefully slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Her body instinctively responded, shifting into his warmth.

“Mmm,” she murmured sleepily, her voice muffled against her pillow. She turned in his arms, her face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You smell so good,” she mumbled, her breath tickling his skin.

Kenan laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “canım, you’re still half-asleep, aren’t you?” (my soul)

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, snuggling closer. One of her hands lazily trailed up his chest, her fingers curling into his soft t-shirt. “Missed you.”

His heart melted at her words. “I wasn’t gone that long,” he teased, running his fingers up and down her back in soothing strokes.

“Felt like forever,” she grumbled, still not opening her eyes. Her lips brushed against his neck as she murmured, “Don’t leave me again.”

“I’ll try not to,” he promised, kissing her forehead, then her cheek, and finally her lips in a series of soft, lingering kisses. Each one felt like a declaration of his love, gentle but full of meaning.

She smiled against his lips, finally opening her eyes to look at him. “Hi,” she said sleepily, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart race.

“Hi, aşkım,” he replied, his voice soft and adoring. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he leaned in for another kiss, this one longer, deeper, and filled with all the love he felt for her.

They stayed like that for a while, exchanging kisses and whispered words. Eventually, she shifted, straddling his lap and resting her head against his chest.

“How was training?” she asked, her voice still laced with drowsiness but filled with genuine curiosity.

Kenan smiled, running his fingers through her hair. “It was good. I scored a goal in the match we played, but the coach made us run drills for hours afterward. I swear, I think he enjoys torturing us.”

She giggled, the sound making his chest swell with happiness. “Poor baby,” she teased, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

He smirked, tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I’m not looking for pity, just missed you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head to hide her smile. “I missed you too, baby.”

They spent the rest of the morning tangled up in each other, sharing stories from training, laughter, and countless kisses. Kenan couldn’t help but think that moments like this—waking up with her, holding her close, and simply being together—were what made life so beautiful.

“You’re my world, canım” he whispered against her lips, his voice filled with emotion.

“And you’re mine,” she replied, her smile brighter than the morning sun.

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

"Little Dove"

As Astarion makes love to Esme once again after weeks of bonding, she says something that stops his simple plan in its tracks.

Smut, angst, feelings, guilt, fingering, PiV, soft domming, nice simple plans falling apart. ~2k words.

It had been a while since he drank from her last. Since before the intimate night they spent together. The scars were beginning to fade. He kisses her neck softly for a while. Lightly grazing it with his fangs, then biting into her tender flesh as gently as possible. He wraps his other arm back around her, reaching his hand up under her nightshirt, and resting it against her chest to feel her heartbeat. Esme stops painting and humming her tune, sets her brush down and relaxes into him, running her hand along his right leg at her side. Feeding sessions were never really sexual with them before. But he can't ignore the tightness he feels in his trousers with her warm body pressed up against his like this, and her soft hands running up and down his leg, sending chills down his spine. Soft moans escape from his throat against his will as he feeds. It had been a few weeks since that night in the woods. Neither of them had really spoke of it since. There was just a comfortable silence about it. An unspoken bond shared between stolen kisses when nobody was looking, and sleeping in the same tent most nights after everyone else went to bed. He craved her once again, and that was something he didn't plan for.

Esme was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her little tent with her easel lowered to the ground; painting the night sky by candlelight. A half empty glass of wine set on a wooden crate next to her. She hums softly to herself, as she does often. The sounds of the summer night; the crickets chirping, the water of the nearby lake lapping softly against the rocky shore, the crackle of the fire burning low outside, the sounds of her companions sleeping soundly in their tents, it was peaceful. She loved the night and the time she gets to spend under its celestial canvas.

She hears some rustling coming from Astarions tent across the way, and notices he seems to be blowing out the candles in his own little nook. The small flap seperating his space from the rest of the camp opens and he makes his way towards Esme's tent, holding the book he was reading. She smiles to herself then pretends not to notice him coming. Carrying on with her painting and continuing to hum her little tune. Astarion lightly taps on the tent wall and pokes his head in.

"Good evening, little dove" Astarion purrs. "Can't sleep either?"

"Oh! Hello Astarion. Was I being too loud?"

"Not at all, in fact I think your little melodies have lulled everyone else to sleep" he says fondly. He invites himself into her tent and closes the flap behind him.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you?"

"Of course not. You know I always relish your company" Esme says with a sweet smile. Astarion sets his book down on the nearby table next to the half empty glass of wine, walks over to where she's sat on the floor and sits directly behind her. He spreads his legs to either side of her and wraps his arms around her, nuzzling his head into her neck.

"What are you painting?"

"The view of the night sky from atop that temple of Selûne we encountered. The one that's now a goblin camp." Esme says sadly. Seeing the temple dedicated to her goddess defiled like that was a somber sight, and Shadowheart wasn't exactly comforting.

"You're making it look so beautiful. Like how it did during its prime." Astarion says.

"Mhm...Darling, are you hungry? Is that why you came here?" Esme asks.

"I came here because I missed you. But yes, a little. That might just be because I'm sitting behind such a decadent creature though." Astarion says, clearly smiling into her neck.

"You can feed on me tonight, if you'd like" Esme says, continuing her painting. She starts humming absent mindedly once more.

"Thank you darling." Astarion sits there for a few moments, holding her. Listening to her hum that sweet melody and feeling the vibrations from her voice radiate into his body. He adores how soft she is. How safe she feels. How she is the ultimate comfort of his racing mind and yet somehow the very cause of it as well.

Astarion gently moves her silver hair to the side with one hand while keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist. Exposing her pale, slender neck. She was ethereal, with pure white skin and light blue freckles peppered across her soft and kind face, making their way down her body like little stars. Pearlescent white scales lined her cheekbones up to her temples. Indicating her ancestry isn't purely elven. Cold pale blue eyes; curtained by soft, long white lashes, were focused intently on the canvas before her. She looked unlike anything he had seen before. Like she was sculpted from the moon itself.

Astarion focuses on her neck. Flawless for all except the two small puncture scars that indicated past feedings.

He tentatively moves his hand from her heart to her right breast, massaging it. Esme reaches behind her to run her hands through his hair. Breathing slowly. After a few moments like this, she lightly taps his arm to indicate that's enough. He unlatches his fangs from her neck. Licking and kissing the wound gently.

"You alright?" Astarion asks in between placing soft kisses on her left shoulder and tracing against her skin with his hands.

"Mm, mhm" Esme says.

"Oh, already speechless are we?" Astarion purrs.

"No it's just- your hands against my skin. It feels nice. Relaxing even."

"Mhm" Astarion hums, his mouth pressed against her shoulder still. He continues to trace his fingertips against her soft skin, exploring every curve he can reach. Esme seems in almost trance. Her heartbeat slowed and her breathing deep and low. Resting fully with her back against his chest. He moves both hands to her breasts now, tracing around her nipples as he watches them pebble under her nightshirt. His nightshirt actually. But he has let her keep it and he hasn't seen her sleep in anything else since.

"Darling, how would you feel about a little death with me?"

Esme opens her eyes and sits up to turn and look at him. The sudden loss of her warm skin on his makes him almost whimper. Without her, the night feels cold. Esme looks at him with an intense look of lust and desire in her eyes.

"I was wondering if you wanted to do that again" Esme says.

"Of course I do, that time was very special to me" His voice sounds almost desperate. He needed to feel close to her again. He craved it.

"And you, you were lovely". He takes her hand and starts kissing each fingertip. Then he guides her hand to his face to bring her closer. She understands and cups his face with both of her hands and presses her forehead against his. Closing the gap between them once more. Astarion crosses his legs and Esme climbs onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He places his hands on her hips and starts kissing her softly. Astarions trousers now showing a large and obvious bulge. He moves his hands down to her bottom and grips her flesh. Causing her to move her hips against him. She gasps and grabs the back of his head with a newfound intensity that he hasn't seen from her yet. He wonders how long she had been waiting for this. Not wanting to keep her waiting any longer, he pushes against her, signaling her to stand up with him. Once standing he removes his shirt and trousers. Tossing them to the side.

"Hm" Esme chuckles, eyes full of fondness. "You're a work of art, Astarion".

"I was just going to say the same thing about you, my little dove". Astarion approaches her once again and lifts his nightshirt from her frame. Revealing that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. No undies whatsoever.

"Well now, is this a regular habit of yours?" Astarion purrs.

"What can I say? I don't like wearing undergarments" Esme laughs.

Astarion walks over to the small bed Esme has in her tent, climbs onto it and sits down, legs spread.

"Sit in front of me, love. Just like before".

Esme walks over and does as he asks. Sitting cross-legged between his legs on the bed. Astarion begins with placing his hands on her breasts like he was before. Massaging them gently and squeezing her nipples between his fingers. Then, with his left hand he slides down to her sex, already aching with arousal. His cock pressing against her back needily.

"Lean back against me and lift your hips, please".

She adjusts herself accordingly and Astarion slowly slides his fingers down to her clit, rubbing it gently. She's sopping wet already. So he wastes no time in inserting his fingers into her enterance, causing a soft moan to escape Esmes lips.

"That's it, sing for me, little dove"

Esme lets herself go and comes undone as Astarion teases her nipple and fucks her with his fingers. Her voice soft and gentle. He times his breaths with hers with his mouth pressed against her ear. The cold air sending shivers down her spine. He wishes she would scream his name loud, let the entire camp know she was his. But that's not like her. Everything about her is soft and quiet. Docile as a lamb. Her legs shake and her hips buckle as she rides over the edge of bliss. Astarion holds her against him tightly and bites into her shoulder, causing a slightly louder moan to come out from her. He didn't bite her to feed, he wanted to mark her. This sudden possessiveness coming out of seemingly nowhere. Esme collapses against his chest, breathing heavily. Astarion then adjusts positions so she is on her back on the bed and he is on top. He presses himself against her and kisses her deeply with a new hunger he can't quite place. He cradles her head in his hand and spreads her legs open with his knees. Propping himself up with his knees and elbow. Their tongues dancing together in unison. He then sits up for a moment, taking her in. Her eyes wide and wanting, her lips parted slightly and her chest rising and falling with every breath. A faint purply-red flush fills her face and the tips of her ears. She looked just as hungry as he was.

"You are absolutely beautiful" He says, breathless. Esme smiles wide and gestures him to come back to her. He returns to the position he was in and lines his hips up so that his cock is just coaxing her enterance. He moves the head of his cock back and forth along her slit to get the surface as slick as he can. Then pushes himself in. Esmes head reels and her back arches. Astarion runs his free hand along her spine and nuzzles himself into her neck once more. Only he gets to see her like this. His little moon maiden. His quiet and reserved angel. Only he gets to watch as she comes undone by his touch. He feels her walls clench then relax around his newly inserted length. Then he starts rocking his hips slowly. Relishing in every moment inside her. He has made love to countless people but even that first time with her, it has been different. All the time they've spent together. The late nights talking, the random gifts and gestures of affection, the stolen kisses and holding hands when they're alone. All of it was different. These past weeks with her have been nothing but pleasant. She is lovely and treats him with such kindness and care. Even though he lied to her and snapped at her and caused her pain. She has never once stopped being caring and kind. It's driving him mad. He just wanted safety and now he can't imagine life without her.

His thrusts become deeper and more passionate. Causing Esme to moan with that sweet voice he adores so much.

"Mmph, Astarion I-"

Oh gods no. Don't say it. He thinks.

"I love you"

Shit. Astarion whimpers and moans into her neck as those three little words send him into a frenzy. He thrusts into her with all the feelings he has. Anger, lust, guilt, grief, adoration. He pours it all into her. Before he knows it they're both reaching the edge together, and he's cumming harder than he can remember ever before. He falls into her and she wraps her arms around him. Lightly stroking his back with her fingers.

"You don't have to say it back. I just wanted you to know" Esme says sweetly. He can do nothing but hold her. No words come to him. He wants to tell her everything, that he had a plan, that she fell for it, but now things are getting complicated and he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what else he can be for her. But none of that matters right now. He can only think about how nice it feels to be held after sex. To not have someone ripped away from him never to be seen again. To have sex because he wanted to. He feels truly loved and cared for. And has no idea what to do about it.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Family Heirloom and Starry Night (Discord Drabble) Two prompts in 24hrs, the drabblers are spoiled today. It's Lex's birthday! @thefreakandthehair I'm so sorry that my Frankenstien prompt for your b'day is also Steve Sad Boy™ hours. But it has a light-hearted end!!! 🏈🏈🏈 tw: death of a grandparent (way in the past)

"Why would mom mail this to me?" Steve finally mutters from his position at the kitchen bench.

Eddie shimmies upright on the couch and rubs at his eyes, long glazed over from forcing himself to pretend to pay attention to tonight's game. He'd flipped it over a good half an hour ago as the space he had given Steve started to linger on a little too long for his liking.

He just wasn't supposed to almost fall asleep while waiting for Steve to join and watch his favourite team win all those... points? touchdowns?

It doesn't matter nearly as much as the package that was delivered late in the afternoon – one that has left Steve glued to his kitchen stool.

A heavy but small and thin box with 'FRAGILE' and 'DO NOT BEND' emblazoned all over it, the red warnings leaving just enough space for their address and the return label.

Steve has opened it, Eddie realises, looking over his partner's impossibly hunched shoulders when he reaches him.

"I don't remember ever seeing that in your house, sweetheart," he says, standing close and snaking his arms around Steve's middle.

He frowns at the small framed print of Vincent Van Gough's Starry Night painting and rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.

"Mom hated it," Steve explains, "Refused to hang it anywhere in the house after my Grandpa passed. He left it to her."

Eddie hums in the affirmative.

The gold and gaudy frame doesn't exactly scream Mrs Harrington's taste in decor...

"Should I call her?" Steve rasps, setting the print down to pinch his nose, "What if something's wrong and that's why she is sending it to me?"

Eddie can feel his lip quivering.

"Maybe we should talk first, hmm?" he suggests, giving Steve a reassuring squeeze.

"Or..." Steve continues, his tone becoming bitter, "She's sending it now to make it official. That I'm no longer..."

He cuts himself off with a shaky exhale and looks around their relatively new (but technically very old and rundown) apartment. A quiet little spot in Indy they'd scored without too much searching.

One that they soon filled with their records and clothes, Eddie's amp and guitar and Steve's old trophies. Too many knickknacks they'd thrifted with the help of Robin and a lot of second-hand furniture Wayne found.

An apartment they are still in the process of making their own as they work themselves out together.

Their place in the world. Their home.

Eddie looks over to a patch of blank wall by the phone.

A spot that could use something...

"Do you like it, the painting?" he whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve's ear.

Steve grips the frame, his knuckles quickly turning white as he tenses up. He nods his head vigorously and sniffles.

"My grandpa..."

"Starry, starry night," Eddie sings low, "Paint your palette blue and grey..."

He reaches out to place his hands over Steve's and feels them relax in his touch.

"Look out on a summer's day..." Steve continues wetly, "Yeah..."

He sighs and closes his eyes, shifting his weight back onto Eddie.

"Looks like a pretty good heirloom to me," he says, swaying them just enough to leave Steve humming contentedly without threatening his position on the rickety kitchen stool.

Eddie continues humming the song, a favourite of Wayne's that he only ever passively listened to enough to pick up on the opening line and tune.

"Wanna watch the game with me?" he asks, nodding back to the television as he finishes the song.

Steve giggles, his shoulders gradually shaking them both.

"Baby, I watched that game two Sundays ago."

"But it's your favourite," Eddie argues, jostling their conjoined form, "The Cubs!"

"Eds, that's baseball!"

[agustdiv1ne]

hey ash! soft hours idea i just had: you, beomgyu's best friend, takes his guitar and asks him to teach you to play something in a lazy afternoon. he oh so patiently teaches you how to play the beggining of a classic rock song and when you finally get it and play it right he blurts out how hes been in love with you... for like a decade.

(im melting

SAM YOUR MIND>>>>> i'm gonna disintegrate this is so adorable

god, just imagine: you're laying on beomgyu's bed one lazy afternoon, the weather outside is cool and soft gray clouds paint the sky, the soft pitter patter of rain mixing with the show that he had turned on earlier. the room feels comfortable, warm, cozy; you think that these words can be used to describe beomgyu, too.

speaking of the boy, he's laying right next to you, the warmth of his thigh seeps into your bare skin as the both of you relax against the bed's headboard, his fingers mindlessly playing with your own his screen-strained eyes stare at the television. shooing the butterflies in your stomach away, you tap his palm to grab his attention. his gaze slides over to you in an instant.

"'m bored," you pout. his nose scrunches up before he's asking you what you want to do, then, if he's just so boring to be around. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, but mull over the question for a moment. what do you want to do?

your eyes trail over to the acoustic guitar that is propped up in the corner of the room. "can you teach me how to play something?"

at first, he thinks you mean a video game, a taunt on the tip of his tongue about how you suck at them, until he follows your line of sight to his beloved instrument. his heart softens a little.

"yeah, sure," he responds while he gets up to fetch it. he sits back down with the guitar set in his lap. you shift so your body completely faces him and watch as he fiddles with the tuning pegs, strumming and adjusting the tensions until it sounds about right to his ears. he peers back up at you once he's satisfied. with a dramatic strum, he announces, "i'll teach you something easy 'cause you're a noob."

you slap his knee in retaliation. "i hope you choke."

"you shouldn't be saying that to your one and only guitar teacher," he smirks. "i could just not teach you. in fact, i'll just go back to watching my show-"

"fine, sorry," you concede, even though you know he wouldn't do that to you, not really.

thus, beomgyu's guitar class commences. he places the guitar in your lap. as he helps you with the finger placements for each chord, fingers gently covering yours, he hums under his breath. the first notes you pluck out are clunky and disjointed, and the tempo is wildly off, miles too slow for it to actually sound anything like the original song. the air seems to shift as he continues to guide you through the intro of the song; he's not cracking the usual jokes at your expense, and — while it might just be your imagination running wild, searching for things that are not really there — he seems to be leaning closer than what is normal for friends.

he works with you for over an hour. you push away those absurd thoughts all the while.

"alright," he says once he deems you ready, leaning back on his palms. "now try playing the full thing."

there's this furrow in your brow as you focus on the strings with the utmost concentration, ensuring that you're playing the right chords with the correct picking, until you successfully play the intro to pink floyd's wish you were here. with a final strum, you look up at beomgyu with a wide grin, and you just seem so happy and excited and proud of yourself that beomgyu just can't help himself-

"i love you," he blurts out. you tilt your head, and regret immediately curls around his chest.

"i love you, too? we're best friends," you respond, unsure what else to say. when he deflates, you continue, worried. "where is this coming from?"

"i don't think you understand."

"beomgyu," you sigh. "if you're gonna be vague about it, then i never will."

"fuck, um." beomgyu is nervous. gone is the typically confident boy, now fiddling his fingers and unable to look directly at you. "i love you. i've loved you for years, now, i think."

stunned, you gape at him, and he takes your silence as rejection, laughing humorlessly. "i shouldn't have said anything. i'm sorry."

shaking yourself from your stupor, you carefully place the instrument still in your lap on the comforter before shifting forward. your knees knock against his as you bring a hand up to cup his jaw. "you never let me respond, idiot."

he finally looks at you, and you send him a gentle, close-lipped smile. "if you hadn't jumped to conclusions so quickly, you would already know that i love you, too."

his eyes light up. "wait, for real? how long?"

"a really long time, probably since we were, like, fourteen," you mumble and your hand retracts, slightly embarrassed. "i didn't accept it 'til a few years ago, though."

"ah!" he exclaims, causing you to jump a little at the volume of his voice. he seems to be back to his normal self, which is confirmed when he starts poking you forehead and excitedly exclaiming, "i beat you! i've known since we were eleven. see, no one can ever beat me, i'm just that good at everyth-"

not without a playful roll of your eyes, you lean forward and capture your lips with his, effectively shutting him up. the kiss is brief and his lips are a bit dry, but your heart pounds nonetheless. when you pull away, there's these dopey smiles on both of your faces. he's staring at you in a way that you've seen several instances before, but never knew what it meant — you know now, what that unique glint in his eyes, the quirk of his lips mean.

"i love you, choi beomgyu," you say, pressing another kiss to his cheek. "but you really need some chapstick."

he groans. "you just had to ruin the moment."

"say it back," you argue as you hand him your own chapstick. his expression softens a little when he looks back up at you, his lips curling up in a tiny smile.

"i love you," he breathes. "now c'mere."

hands cup your cheeks, squishing them a bit, before the rest of him is surging forward to kiss you once more. it's all giggly and sweet and neither of you can fight off the grins pulling at your lips. he begrudgingly pulls away after a few minutes, if only to get more air into his lungs, reaching for the guitar and beginning to serenade you. you hum along with him.

this is what finally being home after a long journey feels like, you think.

this is what love feels like.

[mbappeslover]

i love you.

mbappé x f! reader.

y/n bleaches her best friend of five years, kylian, hair. who knew bleaching hair could be so romantic?

yet again, another friends to lovers. there’s nothing better than that istg lmfao.

songs to listen to while reading this: sure thing by miguel, new person, same old mistakes by tame impala, and looking out for you by joy again.

made this @ 4 am, enjoy.

“are you sure about this, kylian? you do know that you have to bleach your hair multiple times to achieve this color.” you ask unsure.

you were on the way to the hair store with your bestfriend of five years, kylian mbappé.

he wanted to celebrate his 19th birthday by dyeing his hair white and instead of going to a salon, he wanted you to dye it. the reason as to why? well, he thought it’d just be fun.

“yes, y/n. you asked me this a hundred times. i am 100% sure. i, kylian mbappé wants you, y/n y/l/n, to dye my hair white.” he says chuckling while opening the door of the hair store for you to enter.

you mutter out a quick thank you to him and he nods in response.

ten minutes later.

“alright, this is everything. the bleach, toner, mixing bowl, and gloves. you ready?” you ask, laying everything out on the bathroom counter.

“yea, i’m ready.” kylian says rolling his gaming chair into the bathroom.

“your gonna sit on that?”

“uh, yea.” he says in a ‘duh’ tone.

“why do you still have your shirt on? it’s a nice shirt, take it off.” you slightly scold him because he should know better.

“i’ve never bleached my hair before, i didn’t know, relax mom.” he says in a mocking tone before swiftly removing his shirt.

you couldn’t help yourself.

okay, you knew kylian had a nice body. but, he’s your friend. you remember when he was scrawny, awkward and had like a million posters up of cristiano ronaldo like a loser.

he wasn’t that same young mbappé. also, he was an athlete, a football player. he was lean yet broad. his muscles were so defined.

“what the fuck.” you whisper to yourself. you basically just eye-fucked your bestfriend.

you snap out of your head to see kylian smirking at you.

“like what you see?” he says while wiggling his eyebrows.

“oh shut up, mbappé. i don’t.”

“are you sure because it looked like you were gonna start drooling any moment now.” he says, smirking.

“i hope you do know i have the ability to mess up your hair, right?” you say, shifting your weight on your hand on your hip.

“okay, alright y/n, i’m sorry. please do not mess up my hair.” he says, holding both of his hands together while pouting.

“ew, stop it. you look ugly.” you say, laughing at his now offended face.

“okay, do my hair now, you little shit.” he says jokingly.

you begin the mixing process for the bleach and developer as kylian turns on his ‘chill’ playlist.

the first song that plays is ‘sure thing’ by miguel. kylian immediately starts grooving to the beat with a small smile decorating his face.

you look at him and smile, your best friend is truly your best friend. he knows all the ways to your heart.

he sees you looking and begins to sing the lyrics to you.

‘i got faith in you and i, so put your pretty little hand in mine.’ he sings along with the song while pointing at you.

he’s so cute.

you throw him the middle finger, he laughs, the song continues to play as you two subtly hum along the tune.

“alright, let’s paint this bad boy on you.” you say sliding on the gloves and positioning yourself in front of kylian.

you spread vaseline around his hairline and ears.

you begin applying the mixture at the top of his head, as it is easily accessible.

a new song begins to play, ‘new person, same old mistakes’ by tame impala.

kylian randomly sets his hand on your waist. he’s always like this, touchy. so it didn’t seem out of the ordinary.

‘will i be in too deep? going with what i always longed for.’

“for support.” he blurts out. feeling the need to explain, for some reason.

“okay…?” you chuckle.

a few moments passed when kylian begins to slightly tap on your waist with his index finger to the beat of the song.

“hm, that feels nice.” you say thoughtlessly.

“mmm, it does?” he says agreeing.

you reach the spots that are near his sensitive spots.

“hold on, ky. lift your head up a bit.” you say bending your knees slightly, trying to cover the spots with bleach without accidentally getting it on his skin.

“you can sit on me, if you want.”

‘in a new direction, so how will i know i’ve gone too far?’

“you sure?” you ask, taken aback by the sudden offer.

“yeah, come here, i don’t bite.” he says, removing his hands from your waist, patting his empty lap.

kylian is just your best friend, best friends do this all the time. it’s nothing. you’re just sitting on his lap.

you get closer, opening your legs more before situating yourself onto his lap.

it’s warm, kylian’s warm.

his hands make his way up to your thighs, holding onto them while you make sure you are seated on his lap properly.

“what are you doin-“ you’re quick to ask. but, cut off by kylian.

“are you comfortable? is this alright? just making sure you don’t fall off.” he says making the mistake of looking you in the eye.

when you’re with kylian, everything feels warm. your cheeks feel warm, your heart feels warm, and the world feels light. your heart, it flutters.

you look back into his eyes. those eyes you grew to love. those clear, beautiful dark brown eyes. you two just stare at each other. the air in the room taking a dramatic shift.

before you can ask, he beats you to it.

“y/n, can i kiss you?” he says, voice cracking a bit. he was obviously nervous.

you look at him with so much tenderness and… love?

setting the bowl of bleach down on the counter, you answer him.

“yes, mbappé, i want you to kiss me.” you say, smiling. you usually never smile this big, the times you did; it was because of your best friend, kylian mbappé.

he dives right in.

first, a small peck, like when you’re at an ice cream shop and they give you those small spoons for you try out an ice cream flavor. just testing it out.

he pulls back and looks at you for approval, in case you wanted to back out.

then, he goes all in. holding your waist, caressing it a bit as he kisses you like his life depends on it. you bring both of your arms behind his neck, your body goes limp. you feel a swipe of tongue on your lips, his hand trails down to your bottom, gripping on it. you gasp.

bad idea.

he slips his tongue in and loses control. he drags his tongue against yours, basically wrestling. stopping in the middle sometimes to admire you, giving you a peck before diving right back in again. softly & playfully biting down on your lip, he pulls back, licking his lips and staring at you.

you two, breathless.

the only thing in the room right now is the terrible smell of bleach, the sound of heavy breathing coming from the both of you, and ‘looking out for you’ by joy again leaking from the speaker of kylian’s phone.

you feel something poking your bottom.

you get up from his lap immediately, grabbing the bowl and impulsively begin applying bleach to the rest of his hair.

you hear a sigh leave your best friend’s mouth.

‘when will you start looking out for me too. instead of leaving me staring at my shoes?’

“y/n.” he says.

…

“y/n.”

…

“y/n, i love you.”

you freeze.

you continue to ignore him.

“all set, it already began to lighten your hair, look. i’m still gonna cover it with a bag to speed up the process though.” you say, acting obliviously.

he’s quiet, so you face him. he looks so… sad. it makes your heart hurt. you quickly wrap the plastic bag on his head.

‘i’m all choked up on my own throat, i guess there is no hope.’

“oh yea, where’d you learn to kiss like that? it was like the best kiss i’ve ever received.” you said, forcing out an awfully fake laugh.

he only glares at you.

“not funny? okay…”

“yea, also, the only kiss. we both know you’ve never kissed anyone before.” he spits out.

“not true.” you scoff.

“yea it is.” he says, standing up and pining you in between the wall and himself.

“woah, calm down. are you gonna hit me because i didn’t say i love you back? fine, i love you, kylian, my best friend forever.” you say, smiling playfully.

‘it’s the same old situation, you’ve always got me waiting.’

“c’mon, i’m serious y/n. who kisses their best friend like that? i see how you look at me and you know how i love you. i want you, y/n. i know you want me too.” he says, a bit defeated.

you can’t hold up the mask anymore, you begin to tear up. you are utterly in love with your best friend of five years and you can’t hide it.

he tips his head lower and sees your eyes watering up, he smiles. he knows how much of a crybaby you are.

“of course stupid, i want you so bad.” you say, smiling as he wipes away your stray tears.

“you know, i’d take you more seriously if you didn’t have a bag on your head and a massive boner right now.” you both laugh.

“the things you do to me, you know, you should help me with this. it’s your fault.” he says jokingly.

you playfully smack his arm with a huge smile on your face.

‘she’s beaming that smile, all the while.’

“sure. but, you’ll have to teach me. now come on, let’s wash this bleach off.” you say winking at him and turning around to turn the faucet on.

“i love you so much, y/n.” he says wrapping his arms around you from behind and leaving soft kisses down your neck.

“i love you too, mbappé.” you say, turning yourself around, holding his face and leaving pecks all over.

later that night.

you were done with his hair, it came out perfectly. exactly how he wanted it. you took many photos of him, you had a whole album of pictures that you’ve taken of kylian throughout the years. how could you not tell how in love you were with him?

you guys were now in bed, snuggled up together.

just comfortable silence and warmth.

“by the way, that was my first kiss as well.” he admits.

“really? no way. you’re lying.” you exclaim, turning around to face him.

“nah, maybe i’m just a natural.” he says pointing out his bottom lip and tilting his head with confidence.

you giggle.

but, stop to see a serious look adorned on your best friend’s face.

“i could say it a million times, i really love you, y/n. i wanna give the world to you. you’re so beautiful, prettiest girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on. i love your humor, the way you laugh. the way you take care of me, the way you annoy me. you’ll always be my best friend. even when you become my girlfriend.”

he’s so sweet, you could burst. he really loves you, you look at him with so much love.

“what makes you so sure i’ll be your girlfriend?” you respond jokingly.

“will you be my girlfriend, y/n y/l/n?”

“duh.”

he laughs, kissing all over your face and tickling you.

“you’re the best birthday gift ever.”

took me like a whole week to drop a new fic, i apologize </3. i’m working on like two fics right now with veryyy detailed plots so they’re taking a while to complete. ty for reading!

[annoyingbelieverballoon]

Picnic date with Wally

(From the -dating- headcannons with Wally, here’s an insight to how one of your dates would play out)

(This was prompted by @sanguinekyanite)

word count: 959~

Wally had asked you out on another date today. It was a picnic in the forests surrounding welcome home; the neighborhood you grew to love. 

You threw on something you knew was comfortable and yet would attract Wally’s attention. Not that you had much trouble with that since every time you were in the same room as Wally all his attention would be redirected to you.

Dating Wally has surprisingly made you good at no blinking challenges. You found his love for eye contact endearing as it was one of his many ways he showed his affection towards you.

Wally as stylish and as proper as always rung your doorbell with flowers in hand. He tried styling his hair differently today, his signature pompadour was fluffier and more curly. It was a slight change but he hopes you would notice nonetheless. 

“Hello darling neighbor, You look eye catching as always.” He handed you the bouquet, his eyes never leaving your own.

You take the bouquet and place it in your designated flower vase near the hallway. Every week was a new arrangement of flowers to liven your house with Wally’s affection. 

“What sorts of adventures will you take me on today sugar?” Wally held your hand and walked you along forwards. 

“Barnaby taught me how to play the ukulele” 

“Barnaby can play the ukulele?”

“Apparently. Barnaby said I should play you a song to make you fall in love with me. I told him that was a silly idea since you already did love me.” 

“You love me don’t you darling?” He asked in succession.

You chuckle and blush a little, making sure Wally knew you did in-fact love him. 

“I love you too neighbor, you’re the most~” Wally tripped on a rock as he was walking, poor fellow was too busy staring at you. 

You help Wally up and fix his ascot for him. His pompadour luckily survived the fall. 

“Oh! Wally you changed up your hairstyle today! It’s very pretty” 

Wally beamed at that, his eyes dilated and went half lidded as he put his hands to his face and went “blushing, blushing” whilst he swayed back and forth.

You chuckled and held your sweet boyfriend’s face. His palms sandwiched your own. 

 “Shall we head to our picnic spot now? I’d love to see what you’ve got in store honey” you ask as Wally calms down a little.

Wally hums gleefully as he takes your hand in his once more and walks with you.

It was a lovely day, the flowers looked brighter than ever and the birds were chirping happily. Wally looked happier than all though, his permanent smile just a tiny bit wider and more sincere. 

You reached the small alcove in the forest where your picnic was set up.

You and Wally with help from Julie and Poppy set this up to ensure it was a relaxing spot you can visit time and time again for dates. 

You sat down on one of the cushions and started unpacking some things from the basket.

Mainly plates and utensils, a pie you baked with poppy and a couple apples. Wally grabbed the ukulele perched besides the tree and fiddled with the strings a little, the ukulele -a soprano most likely- was almost like a fully sized guitar in Wally’s arms.

“G… *pluck* C *pluck* E *pluck A *pluck” Wally made sure everything was tuned just how Barnaby taught him. He strummed a little and tried a couple chords like C minor and E minor. 

You liked seeing Wally focused, it wasn’t like when he painted, painting for him was like breathing, he didn’t have to focus or plan every little detail. He just went with the flow of things, but right now he was trying to do his best in an attempt to impress you. 

You couldn’t help but admire this endearing yellow puppet in which you have the rights to call your own. You munched on some pie, Wally had a few bites with his eyes, complimented your baking and went back to making sure he had the song order proper. 

You didn’t mind the silence between the two of you, you felt comfortable together, your background noises matching each other’s rhythm perfectly. 

And then Wally began, he coughed albeit not needing to, fixed his ascot and tidied his hair and began strumming. The song sounded familiar but still new in a way, the chords in succession gave a light atmosphere to the noises of the forest. You hummed along as Wally focused on playing. You noticed he messed up a bit but you didn’t mind that at all. It was still the most romantic thing he could have done for you, and you were falling more and more In love with your boyfriend as each moment passed. 

Wally finished and smiled, he tried his best and that’s all he could say about what occurred.

You clapped for him and grinned.

“That was beautiful love, I loved it”

Wally liked your praise and leaned in closer to you, tugging your sleeve you obliged and bent down as he planted a kiss to the apple of your cheek. 

“*mwah* did you fall in love with me neighbor?” 

“Yes… yes I did Wally, I fell in love with you even more” 

You and Wally called this another successful date, he spent the rest of the picnic laying on your lap and enjoying the pie and apples. You talked quite a bit until the sun set and it was time to end the day. Time passes quickly when you’re having fun with the love of your life it seemed. 

Either way, there was always tomorrow and more romantic moments with Wally Darling. Truly the darling of your life.

[roseamongroses]

The Princess & I : FOUR

Shuri/Riri Williams | Original Characters, Namor of Talokan, Daija Hamilton, Xavier King, Sharon Williams, Bruce Banner [Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses][Period Typical Attitudes][Magic] [Groundskeeper!Riri] [Prequel][Fluff][Brief Sexual Content] [princess and pauper nonsense]

ao3

[1] [2][3]

Summary:

At night, there was no difference between them.

Only love.

-

Riri was being kidnapped.

In retrospect, she should’ve suspected something was up when the Head Gardner dismissed them early. He shuffled away, humming a tune right as Xavier’s arms dropped around her shoulders, unceremoniously pushing her inside the house. He ignored her protests--she wanted to work on her projects for once--chattering more incessantly then usual.

It was only when she was bullied into the servant quarters and saw Daija and Sharon standing over her bed-- holding a clean chemise and dress respectively, children slung over their hips--that she fully realized it was a set up.

Riri’s nose scrunched, “We don’t need to do anything,” she mumbled, now scrubbed raw and dressed in clean linens. The women had linked arms with her, resolutely leading her further and further away from the estate. Xavier followed behind them, talking with their respective husbands.

At her complaints, Sharon scoffed, “Girl, shut up it’s your birthday,” she said, cradling her stomach. Her nephew had squirmed out of her grip earlier and was now watching the clouds from his father’s shoulders, “You won’t die if you relax one day.”

“The Festival of Sol’s is only in town for a couple days,” Daija added, her own baby slumped against her shoulder, snug in their wrap, “You're young, you should get out more while you can.”

“...You’re not that much older than me,”

Daija looked up with a thoughtful expression, “I guess not,” she shrugged, “But when I was your age, I was already engaged,”

Sharon snorted at that.

Ugh.

Riri rolled her eyes, promptly becoming dead on her feet and forcing her so-called family and friends to drag her to their destination.

Apparently, this only fueled the fire--they thought she was being shy. Which wasn’t the case at all, she was simply busy, that’s all. No time for people beyond work and her close circle. Though nowadays that close circle has…somewhat expanded. Love was feasible, perhaps in a different lifetime. After all, that slender smile and curious look she so desperately sought for was something soundly out of reach.

Now steady on her feet, she shook those thoughts away. It’d be better not to dwell on that, after all, the festival did look fun.

All sorts of people filled the streets, eyes lively as they haggled with vendors and shared treats. The smell of roasted meat and sickly sweet, fried breads filled the air. Children chased after one another, some wearing paper masks and crowns, others with faces painted like fierce little suns. Sharon had cheekily dropped an extra paper crown on Riri’s head she had snagged from a vendor, squeezing her cheeks before she could protest.

Riri nibbled on her second kebab of the evening. She wasn't sure what it was, but it tasted like chicken. She was thoroughly amused as she watched Xavier lose to her nephew for the third time this evening, not even close to knocking down the painted clowns. She’d suspect Xavier of faking his losses, but he looked so serious that she was inclined to believe it was an honest effort.

At some point, her nephew grew bored, wandering off with Sharon, who wanted to rest her swelling feet. They had decided to meet back up at the street performance later on in the town square. Daija had stepped up, challenging Xavier to the remaining games, only stepping away when it was time to feed her baby.

“You know,” Daija mused, adjusting her baby’s wrap, “I think there are tents not far from here from an organization of traveling inventors. They might have some pamphlets and presentations you’d be interested in.”

Riri schooled her expression, picking her teeth with the kebab stick, “Didn’t y’all want to finish up here?” she asked, though her gaze strayed as if to catch a glimpse of the tents in question.

Daija laughed, prodding her, “It’s your birthday,” she reached into her satchel, “We know you like going off and exploring by yourself sometimes. We won’t mind,” she said, pressing a few coins into Riri’s palm.

“I have money, you don’t-” Riri pushed the coins back.

“It’s a gift, from all of us,” Daija sighed, giving her a pointed look, “Go enjoy yourself.”

“I…” Riri paused, deciding better, “Thank you,” she nodded. She could only refuse money once.

Heading off by herself, she wondered how the year was passing so quickly. The season was nearly over, soon enough the wealthy would be heading off to their summer estates, babies would be born, marriages consummated, letters sent, and she’d still be here. Working like always. She wasn’t ungrateful for her life--she obviously had people who loved her who always met her where she was at, even if they didn’t understand.

However, she couldn’t deny the uneasy emotions her birthday drew out. As if she was standing in time, watching the whole world pass by, unnoticed, unremarkable.

Riri picked up a pamphlet, flipping through the pages. She couldn’t deny it at this point. It was one thing to copy a success, hunching over the latest trinket to draw out its secrets. It was another thing entirely to pursue failures, to dare wonder without shame.

She wondered what it was like to burn, to fall, then decide to do it all over again. Perhaps it’d be a life worth remembering.

Riri continued to look through the other tents. The streets were less populated in this section, but no less lively. Interesting pamphlets, books, conversations, and the strangest of devices seemed to be at every corner. The men in the tents tended to ignore her, eyes rolling past as if she was not there at all, but she didn’t mind. She’d rather be dismissed than harassed.

Eventually she found a tent promoting a rather interesting presentation. They’ve claimed to uncover the chemical process which turns mortals into Gods. It sounded absurd. It was borderline sacrilegious to inquire into the process.

As of now, ascension was understood in basic terms. People of specific circumstances could overcome human limitations and transform into an entity distinctly divine. It was a process as old as time, yet the phenomenon is notoriously difficult to pinpoint. Sometimes we can link feats and tragedies to a God’s ascension, but most of the time it was unknown. As far as we know, they have always been Gods and always will.

Riri slipped inside the tent, settling onto one of the benches near the back. As she waited for the presentation to begin, she began to read the pamphlet she had bought in depth. Slowly the seats around her started to fill, a low murmur of voices conversing.

“That’s a rather peculiar publication, but the author is brilliant ,” A cloaked woman commented as they settled into their seat.

Taken aback, Riri looked up, catching an all familiar mischievous look peeking from underneath the hood of the cloak, finger pressed to her lips in warning.

Riri glanced around, eyebrows knitting, “What are you doing here…?” she questioned under her breath, eyebrows raising, “Are you unchaperoned again…?”

At the mention of a chaperone, Shuri rolled her eyes. She made a clicking sound as she inclined her head, clearly disgruntled.

Riri looked past them, seeing two other cloaked figures seated beside them. She immediately recognized the personal maid, but she had never seen the man before now.

Draped in a fine, dark green cloak with silver and gold embroidery, a feathered serpent igninia proudly displayed on his chest.

The strange man stood out. Moreso then Shuri, who had thankfully opted for plainer garments. He was clearly from the magic guild, but that made his presence all that more strange. Although Shuri wasn’t royalty of this country, Wakanda could potentially become a rather strong ally for the King.

Hardly any guild-affiliated magic user would associate so blatantly with someone of royal descent. Tensions between the Church and the Magic Guild had only gotten worse in recent years after the death of the Second Prince. She tried to think what they could possibly be doing together, what could he possibly want that would cause him to risk a political nightmare and--

Knowing all of that, she couldn’t help but wonder--

“Are you being courted--?” Riri asked, before she could think better of it. It was an anxious, prickling thought that wouldn’t leave easily. If she did run into the Princess in the midst of being wooed, it would effectively ruin her evening.

Shuri’s face fell, “Bast-” she said, incredulous, “We are business associates.”

Riri cast a doubtful look, “Pray tell, what business brought you here?”

“Discovery, of course,” Shuri insisted, lips pinched, “We share an interest in the divine,”

‘Interest’ was a polite way of describing the almost visceral way Shuri tended to dissect the phenomenon of divinity. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t a believer, but she didn’t tolerate the ambiguous nature of the system, nor the attempts to perpetuate ignorance by certain religious circles. Considering this, it made sense in a way for her to be associating with the Magic Guild, who often spearheaded the research campaigns, but…

Riri resisted the urge to look at the man again.

“Is your brother aware?”

“You worry too much,” Shuri said, leaning on the arm of the chair, face dropping close to speak into Riri’s ear, “Let’s just enjoy our evening together.”

Our evening…?

Riri shivered, pointedly looking ahead, “Are you not busy…?”

“He can speak with many any time,” Shuri said, rather carelessly, “My business is with you now.”

It was childish how much she relished such simple attention.

The lights dimmed, a scrawny looking man--Dr. Banner, she believes--emerging from behind the stacks of papers and diagrams in front of the audience. Even though he didn’t hold the same stage presence as his more…extravagant peers, he held their attention quite easily as he discussed his research.

Throughout the presentation, the pair would quietly exchange comments every so often. However, she couldn’t pretend their exchanges were entirely professional.

A murmur to clarify an unfamiliar process found in a rather rare, but relevant species of plant was accompanied by Shuri rubbing distracting circles in the palm of her hand. Or when the Princess stifled a laugh -- Dr. Banner kept pulling out the strangest, unrelated objects from his bags as he searched for his missing papers--her breath was hot against Riri’s skin as they turned away in an attempt to hide their face.

Most frustrating was the game Shuri played when Riri hadn’t looked at them for a particularly long time. Shuri picked at Riri’s clothes, fidgeting with her hair, and prodded her face until she finally looked. Then with Riri’s full attention, Shuri would promptly return her attention to the presentation, pretending as if she hadn’t been doing anything at all.

“You’re ridiculous,” Riri said with a sigh as they stepped outside the tent.

Shuri followed, easily hooking their arms together as they walked the streets, “Do you think he’ll manage to secure his funding?” she wondered, ignoring the comment. Behind them, the maid and the mage followed, seemingly unbothered by their exclusion.

Riri briefly considered the question, “He’ll receive the funding,” she decided with a solemn look, “I doubt he’ll survive for long after, though.”

“Is the…conflict that bad?” Shuri asked.

“It’s most likely worse than we can imagine,” Riri admitted, “I doubt the papers have been able to report to the fullest extent.”

The glow of the street lanterns casted softly against Shuri’s face, revealing a strange tension in their expression.

Then all at once, it was gone.

Shuri smiled, eyes lighting up as she pulled them along to busier streets, “I think I hear music-”

“What-?” Riri choked out, stumbling after.

The Princess was steadfast, dipping into back-alley’s and into streets even Riri didn’t recognize. It happened so fast, she didn’t even realize they had thoroughly lost sight of Shuri’s chaperone’s at that point.

A little tavern, tucked away in some side-street--spilling with excited voices and brimming with warmth as people’s curiosities were peaked by the bard’s performance. A woman’s voice crooning, as the band played harder and faster.

It wasn't long before Riri was swept away into the dance.

Shuri seemed entranced by the festivities. Bright faced, eager, a diamond indeed. She picked up on dances with the ease of someone bred for the performance of the ballroom, but with the tenacity of any warm-blooded young-adult.

Hands grasping, never letting her hips stray too far. Breathing hard to keep up with the pace at this point, her face close enough to see the sweat beading Shuri's forehead and how their curls frizzed from the heat.

And yet Shuri leans in even closer so she can hear Riri properly. Lips brushing her ear, her laugh a terrible spell that threatened to melt her altogether.

Once Riri was thoroughly worn out, she rested on one of the few stools left in a corner of the tavern. Shuri returned, drinks in hand, crowding her so her tall frame and cloak blocked the more boisterous customers.

Riri sipped her drink, surprised, but grateful that it was water. “You’re a mad-woman,” she comments, still trying to catch her breath. Maybe work was taking more of a toll on her body then she thought.

“You should get out more often,” Shuri chuckles, idly swirling their own drink.

“Some of us have to work,” Riri muttered under her breath.

Shuri scoffed, offended, “I work.”

Riri snorted.

“I do-” Shuri insisted, with a petulant look.

Riri swallowed a grin, eyebrows rising, “You don’t work. You scheme at your own leisure,” she teased.

“And you think you know everything,” Shuri huffed, planting a hand on the wall as she leaned over Riri.

Riri’s head tipped up, a cocky smile managing to peek through, “I do,” she said.

“Then what am I ‘scheming’ right now?” Shuri challenged.

Before her was a woman, looking at her with dark, thoughtful eyes, who’s attentions were wholly and entirely on Riri. It’d be impossible not to notice where such an intense gaze traveled. How it dipped from her eyes, every so briefly to the curve of her lips.

Shuri made no effort to hide her intentions, a gentle hand drawing their faces closer and-

The Princess is going to-

Riri’s breath hitched, head jerking back and hitting the wall.

“Are you okay-” Shuri asked startled.

Riri nodded, unsteadily getting on her feet, “I should go,” she said abruptly.

“We can always go somewhere else if -”

“Apologies, your royal highness,” Riri said, quietly.

Shuri froze.

Riri’s gaze casted down, stepping away, “But, it’s my birthday and my family’s expecting me back sometime tonight. I shouldn't keep them waiting.”

She squeezed past the other patrons until she reached the exit.

The cool night air hit her, but gave her no relief from the heat.

She turned to escape down a side-alley, but a hand grasped her own, not letting go.

“...Please look at me,”

Swallowing thick, Riri resisted, “We shouldn’t let this go too far,” she said, “It's for the best.”

She wanted her desperately.

Every breath, every touch, every conversation.

However, the season will be ending soon. Everyone of importance will be leaving.

Shuri narrowed her eyes, studying her carefully, “You think you know everything, but you don’t,” she said, mouth thin.

“Princess…”

“You know my name, why won’t you say it?” Shuri questioned, unwavering as she linked their fingers together.

Riri pursed her lips with a stubborn look, unwilling to speak further.

Shuri sighed, “If that is what you want then I will not push the matter further,” she said, “But do not say it is for the best. Do not insult what we have in that way. We can separate. You can ignore me, forget me, but there is no reality where I would stop loving you.”

She-

She said it so easily.

“Shuri…” Riri blinked back tears, “I didn’t mean…”

Shuri lifted their joined hands to her mouth, “Have fun with your family,” she murmured sweetly, kissing her hand again, “If this is the last time we are to meet, I only wish you the best, but if you are willing…” her breath caught, expression pained, “Please see me in my quarters later tonight so you can at least pick out a gift.”

She let go of Riri’s hand.

-

The next few hours were a blur. She watched the fireworks shoot-off, hoping her face did not betray her feelings.

The crowds cheered, pointing to the sky, clamoring for a better look. People pulled their lovers, their children, their friends near as their faces were lit with the brilliance of the show.

Riri wanted to slam her face into a brick wall.

She hadn’t decided if what she had done was reasonable. She wasn’t even certain if this was a matter where reason had any say at all. Shame had always been her close companion, fear not far behind. But, she never wanted to hurt Shuri like that again.

Even if it didn’t last, would it be so terrible to be loved so sincerely?

She was loved by her family, her friends. Try as she might, she couldn’t isolate herself completely.

She thinks of her Mom and Sharon and those first few nights where their home was a little quieter, a little emptier than before. How their neighbors took turns cooking dinner for them each night. She thinks of Daija and Xavier visiting after church, bringing flowers or doing chores around the house.

She thinks of her Step-Father--a man who loved her fiercely like his own. She thinks of her friend Natalie, who was just as scared as she was during the riots, but never left her alone. No matter what happened, they never stopped loving her.

They didn’t run away, so why did she?

What was she scared of?

Life was passing her by and her feet couldn’t move at all.

She’s been hurt before.

She's been alone.

She’s been loved and has lost love so many times, but…did she ever regret it?

Would she really walk away from them given the chance, if only to spare herself the pain?

-

Back at the estate, a decision was made.

Riri ignored the inquiring looks from her friends as she slipped out the servant quarters, feet leading her to the West Wing.

She was a little self-conscious, especially since none of the Wakandan guards stationed in the halls stopped her to ask questions. They went about their rounds as usual, as if they expected this.

Which meant Shuri told them she might stop by.

She shifted on her feet uncomfortably as she knocked on the door, waiting.

A minute passed before the heavy, wood doors creaked open.

A fresh faced Shuri stood in the door wearing a white night-gown, looking weary. Without the heavy garments, jewelry, and makeup, she looked startlingly younger. It was easy to forget how close together in age they were when everyone deferred to Shuri with the same reverence as an elderly priest.

And even though it had only been a few hours since they had last seen each other, Riri was struck with overwhelming relief.

Riri stepped inside, flustered, but before she could blurt out the slew of thoughts on her mind, she saw the room.

She had been in the guest rooms before so she was used to seeing the elaborate decor and the plush, dark furniture Her Grace favored. A high-column bed and even higher windows, all draped with bright clean linens, pillows, and blankets.

But what caught her attention was the personal touches. Every flat surface was covered in papers, books, and the strangest of trinkets. So much so, that she suspected if she peeked inside the wardrobe, she’d see more books than clothes at this rate.

“Her Grace thinks I’m possessed,” Shuri said, noticing her distracted look.

“It’s…rather impressive,” Riri admits, a bit intimidated by the sheer amount. A pamphlet alone could be costly, a room of books and papers was sheer extravagance. Even the cost of transporting them all would’ve been expensive.

Shuri's lips twitched, “I guess I should be glad I still manage to captivate you,” she said, before gesturing to the room, “You can choose anything you want. Apologies that I couldn’t find something custom, but I wasn’t certain I’d have the chance. ”

Riri winces at that, “I didn’t come here for a gift. I came here to apolo-”

“You should pick out a gift,” Shuri interrupted with a side-long glance, “It's your birthday after all.” Without another word she walked towards the bed, starting to gather and sort through the papers.

Riri watched her, her mulling it over.

Shuri didn’t want an apology, that much was clear. But, she wouldn’t invite her here only to pick out a gift, right? Shuri wanted something from this time and it certainly wasn’t closure. Conversation then? To what end? Typically, Riri didn’t entertain such round-about conversations for long, but she’d go along with it if that is what she wanted.

Sighing, Riri went towards the nearest stack, scanning the spines critically. She let the silence stretch between them as she considered her next approach. The collection was expansive, gold lettering promising to disclose the secrets to every possible curiosity. Even now she couldn’t help but get drawn in.

She raised a hand towards the stack, uncertain.

“You can touch them.”

“What?” Riri looked up, confused, hand retracting.

Shuri had set aside the papers she had been organizing. Now she sat at the foot of the bed, “You can touch the books,” she repeated slowly, eyes trained on the other woman, “I invite you into my space to do as you please and you still hesitate, “ she notes, contemplative, “I ask you to call me by my name and you don’t. I ask you to look at me and you refuse.”

Oh.

“It is… a habit of mine I cannot afford to lose.” Riri admits.

Any sign of disrespect could mean death.

“It is no fault of yours, but it does…hurt,” Shuri’s mouth twisted, “You can’t even reject me without fearing retaliation, can you?”

“I..” Riri’s brow furrowed, she slowly walked towards the bed, “I know you’d never do that to me.”

“And how do you know that?”

“You love me.”

“People have done worse in the name of love,” Shuri murmured, but it held no bite. Two calloused hands cupped her face, ever so gently as she spoke, “If my title is causing you such grief, we might as well be wed so I can know you properly,”

Riri did a double take, perplexed, “...You’re serious?”

“You know me better than any of those so-called suitors, why not?”

Riri pulled away so she could toe off her slippers, “We are women, we cannot be wed,”

Although no laws explicitly prohibit them being together, no church would support such a union.

“In Wakanda we can. Your country always…” Shuri’s voice hitched.

Riri gathered the hems of her dress, pushing herself up and onto the bed and into Shuri’s lap, thighs settling on either side of their hips.

Her nerves were undeniable, but it was worth it as an arm wrapped around her waist, pressing them together firmly, a hand steadying her hips. She inhaled, nose buried against their neck, breathing her deep until her heart settled, “Do…you not wish to know if I love you too?” she asked, fingers curling loosely on their shoulders.

“I know you do.”

Riri snorted, pulling back to look up at them, “Then we do not need to rush into a marriage,” she said, “For now, this is enough--does that bother you?”

Shuri’s face softened, “As long as it pleases you, I do not mind.”

A dangerous thought.

Perhaps, she wasn’t afraid of loss.

Maybe it was the feeling itself--love, which welled over her heart at the sight of Her.

“What is a Princess to discuss pleasing others?”

“Is it not the most natural role for myself?” Shuri challenged, her smug face only faltering at the feather-light kisses being pressed along her neck,“Is... it not my duty... to serve the world?”

“You need not serve me, to please me,” Riri muttered into their skin, “I am not entirely selfish.”

“But I am,” Shuri’s eyes fluttered closed, “I crave you entirely--your attention, your touch, anyway you allow it,” she whispered, “But it is my life's greatest pleasure to see you smile at me.”

Riri was content to drown in Her brilliance.

Now that she was in Shuri’s arms, her greed will know no bounds.

“As is mine,” Riri replied, pulling her closer until not even the breath between their lips could separate them.

[malderonadventures]

Dei frowned at the explaination of Eri's eating habits. " What awful people. Please tell me they are dust. I... may not know her yet, but from the way you talk about her, I can't help but like her. I know you're selective on your positive interactions, but I certainly don't hate it. You seem to be the consequence to certain actions. A force of nature isn't wrong for being what it is. It just is. I don't think you're crazy. I think you're passionate." She closed her apartment door behind him and followed suit with her shoes before commencing the locking of the 3 deadbolts on the door.

She hung the wig she wore on a nail by the lights witch and flipped it on. There was a small delay and a light buzz as the lights turned on and she made her way across the small apartment to the kitchen area.

Her smile grew broader and broader as Tomura gave the nicknames between him and his daughter. It was absolutely adorable how deep his affection went for the little girl. "You're so cute I can't stand it," she giggled. " Go ahead and make yourself at home, I guess." she instructed as she pulled a kettle from a cupboard and filled it with water.

"It's not great, no. But the heroes are *so greatful* to the lesser help, you know. Such *generous* people giving handouts to us pleabs while they sit in their rooftop combos with maid service," the venom in her voice slipped out before she could contain. "Er, sorry. Ahem." She straightened herself self-consciously.

"Well, of course you want her to have friends her own age. That's normal. Next time you take her to the park. Maybe I can go with you and hum a little tune for the kids to not be little assholes. And if those soccer mom's want to meet someone. They can meet me and mind their business. I'll hum a tune for them too. I hate that parents get like that. I get it, but I hate it." Her attention returned now that the water was heating and two mugs were waiting on the counter. Her eyes returned to the man as she walked the few feet over to the small couch and sat down. The place was very small and studio pretty much a sectioned off room, but Dei was the type to keep it orderly and apparently color coded.

"Protective isn't bad. I think it a very good quality to have. And that little sweetie needs someone like you. Several people do, I think." Her eyes drifted away at the last thought. The teapot whistled loudly, almost to the level of television noise from the next apartment over. A loud male voice joined in yelling at the tv, presumable a sports game of some sort.

Dei jumped up and poured the hot water over the tea in the mugs, carefully balancing the full mugs and a jar of honey as she made her way to set them down on a small side table. "You're the only person to see my place from the inside, so... I've never needed it to look fancy. Until now, I guess. Sorry. Maybe I should paint it," she tilted her head. The loud man next door continued an irate rant to the exterior hallway.

The voice disappeared as the man seemed to get further way. Dei relaxed and took a mug of the tea. Blowing on it before taking a sip. The door thundered as it was beat upon, scaring the everliving shit out of the girl. She jolted, scalding herself as the tea jumped from the cup and let out a string of curses. The man who had gone silent did not stay that way. The doorknob jiggled and the deadbolts creaked as the door was being punched and kicked. The yelling was muffled, but nothing sounded pleasant.

"R-right. Ok, well, looks like he got started a bit early tonight. You said you could warp, right? Maybe go out that way when you leave instead. You can avoid him that way," she gave a weary smile over at Tomura as she pulled the steaming neck of her shirt from her skin and started rifling through drawers for a clean shirt.

Why yes. Deistineach did indeed have a death wish. She was a bit at a loss of how to trigger it with this guy. He just rolled with her antics. Did he have infinite patience? Hands, nose, irritating babble… He seemed tolerant to a fault. Well, it must not have been her time then.

“Yay! Ice cream! I will get little Eri as much as she wants! Ah, unless Daddy Tomura limits her sweets?” She corrected, looking up at the white haired man for limits. Some parents were strict about that sort of thing, though for some reason, she didn’t believe he was one of them. Plus, she wasn’t about to stop trying her luck. His reactions made it even more fun, this dangerous one way game she was playing at. None of her prods would be malicious though. It just wasn’t who she was. As annoying as she was aiming to be, she was still honest and meant what she said.

“There’s different types of bad. I admit, you are a villain. But you’re a sweet one, oddly enough. A much more patient one than I anticipated, you stubborn goat,” she sighed, side eyeing the man before nudging him with her shoulder. “If you can’t beat them, join them, right? You’re just my type of crazy.” She gave a smirk, continuing on out of the park as they talked. The route she was taking was getting less lit by working street lights and more dingy as she walked on.

“She’s a mini-you with a horn!” She pranced happily at the thought. How cute! “Oh, I can’t wait! Does she call you Daddy or Tomura? I don’t want to confuse her by calling you something weird in front of her.” Neither Daddy nor Tomura were weird, but surely there would be other names used if she were to keep poking the sleeping bear, so to speak.

“Hm, I can see where you’re coming from, though. I can absolutely relate to just wanting to be seen as you are and not a disguise. I hope she will always be saved from that kind of pain. I’m not a child, but I’ll be a friend to her, if she lets me. Being different than whatever ‘normal’ is, is rough. I think you know that as well as I do. I’m glad she’s protected so strongly. You…. You seem to be quite protective in general,” Dei mused, slightly concerned with her own acceptance of the standing death threat of her neighbor. She couldn’t bring herself to give care for someone beating her door and threatening her at odd hours of the morning. There were consequences to actions, whether people wanted it or not. It was kind of nice that someone was willing to do the worst things for other people.

“Hey Tomura…. Thanks,” she muttered after a moment of silence. She was uncharacteristically more reigned in than before. The front she held was dropping slowly, the further they went.

After a bit longer of a walk, the woman’s mismatched eyes averted away from the man’s direction as she trudged up the steps of an old apartment building, “Watch your step,” came her quiet warning. The steps couldn’t all be trusted. Dei hopped her way up, skipping a few unusable steps as she hoofed it up to the 5th floor. She stopped in front of a dented door with the number ‘524’ faded on a number plate. Loud television could be heard from the next apartment over.

“We’re here. Want to come in for tea? There’s still half an hour before it should be getting loud,” she offered with a small smile, pulling a set of keys from her pocket and hip checking the the door to be able to unlock it. “Home sweet home. Understood if you’d rather not. Just an offer.” Dei paused leaning on the door frame and smiling up at Tomura.

[pinkrelish]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶For once in his life, Eddie makes a good decision when he shows up to your motel room early. And another good decision when he mumbles something under his breath after you outsmart him at his DND club. That's my girl.✶

NSFW — fluff, flirting, sexual tension, wearing eddie's shirt and loving the scent a little too much, & oops you discover you have a praise kink, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use, canon typical violence

chapter: 6/15 [wc: 7.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 6: The First Rule of Hellfire Club

The moment Eddie’s knuckles connected with the chipped paint under the peep hole, his stomach sank, much like the weathered bronze number Nine losing its top nail and plummeting into the number Six. In his head, strands of apologies tangled into amalgamations of concern, and seeing your distressed face pleading up at him when you struggled to open the door sent them spiraling into the single emotion he could grasp: protection. The words he’d meant to say vanished from his brain in favor of fixing whatever it was causing you trouble.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, balancing the dingy yellow phone between your ear and shoulder; arms crowded with the clunky receiver itself, trying not to press any buttons as you let him inside, kicking the cords out of his way.

“Didn’t know when you were coming–” you whispered to him, then straightened your spine and changed to a forceful tone. “Yes, I’m still here. Ye– ..Yes, I told you, I’m not home right now, but I still have the–” Eddie edged into your room and tuned out the conversation. Not necessarily because it seemed private on account of the manila file you were reading from, but because his gaze landed on your open suitcase. Specifically the delicate lace set on top.

He didn’t pin you as the type to wear that sort of stuff. Tight. Partially see through. Jewel toned. Carnal in design, mouth watering in nature. Lingering on the notion of the material against your skin..

He drummed his fingers on his leg and reminded himself, and the devil on his shoulder, why he was here early.

“Wait! Don’t–Don’t you dare hang up. Hello? Hello?” You examined the phone. An arrant dial tone persisted. You put it up to your ear again. “Hello?” Pressing your lips into a thin line, the plastic creaked under your grip, seething temper boiling under your composed exterior.

You let out a calming exhale. Relaxed the tension from your shoulders.

Then you beat the phone on the bedside table three times and slammed it on the receiver with a definitive, “Bitch.”

Curiosity aroused, Eddie asked, “Everything good?”

“Stupid insurance bullshit. Been on the phone with them all day.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Still unsure of where you stood after last night, you gave a little shrug, and put away your files, volunteering nothing more. He offered, “I can make some calls for you or something. Sit on the hold lines. Whatever would make it easier for you.”

“I can handle it,” you interjected. “Should we get going?”

Walking past him to the end of the bed, you bent to grab your purse from the floor and saw what you tossed on top of the pile of laundry spilling from your suitcase after your shower this morning.

You cut a glance at Eddie the exact moment he chose to look the opposite direction, humming a tune to himself.

Using your foot, you closed the suitcase and made to step around him.

“Can we talk first? I wanted to apologize for what I said last night.”

Despite him acknowledging the tension between you, you kept your gaze on the carpet, remaining vigilant for the sake of his feelings. “You didn’t say anything last night.” You kept moving.

He asserted his arm in front of you. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, voice cutting in and out. Harsh, yet sensitive. “Don’t walk away from me.”

The cold metal chains decorating his sleeve brushed your upper chest. You considered his method for blocking you from leaving; how he leaned into it, caging you, face tipped to speak into your ear. Aggressive to those who did not know him, but you understood the charity in the curl of his fingers hesitating in the air to refrain from an accidental caress. The desperation in his chapped lips. The absolute fatigue in his attempts to dance around the awkwardness of your tumultuous relationship.

“I..” Eddie started, fluttering his eyes shut to better sift through his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said last night. I don’t hate you.” You sighed in a way that had him cringing at his actions. It was always worse when you were disappointed in him. “To be honest, seeing you again after all this time has been.. has been..”

“Bizarre?”

“Yes, bizarre,” he said emphatically, beginning to pace. “It’s brought up a lot of old feelings I never got over, and–and stuff I wanted to forget.. And stuff I didn’t want to forget, but at this point, I’m tired of the back and forth, and lashing out at you, and being a massive asshole. It didn’t feel good to say that last night, and I swear to you I didn’t mean it. I’m not mad at you for doing what you needed to for your future.” Stopping, he drove his hands through his hair and locked his fingers behind his head, monopolizing the cramped space at the end of your bed where you wrung your arm. “You’re here now, and I like being around you, and me trying to, I don’t know, is ‘punish’ the right word? Wallowing and wasting all this energy punishing you for leaving has been exhausting and I just, I–”

Unwavering eye contact. A rare occasion as of late, taken for granted long ago. You seized it, held it, and the glimmer of hope in how his face softened when he looked at you.

“I miss you,” he admitted in a gentle breath. “I miss you and I want to be friends again.”

He wasn’t so much as asking permission to pick up where you left off as he was adamant for it, and his verbiage was not lost on you.

Eddie wanted you, needed you to be his friend again.

Faithful to your detriment, willing to make sacrifices for your best friend, ever diligent and committed to someone who returned the same kindness in the same degree with the same modesty, you smiled. “We can be friends again.”

Here is where normal people would hug. Not for you two.

Eddie beamed sunlight on a cloudy day. “I was also thinking about our conversation yesterday and I wanted you to know I’m really going to try at school this year. I’m going to graduate, and who knows, maybe I’ll end up at Penn State with you, so you can have a friend there and we can.. Okay, it wasn’t that funny.”

“S-Sorry,” you hissed through the laughter, “It’s not because of you going to college, I swear; your hair is all messed up. More than usual.” He examined his appearance in the large square mirror above the chest of drawers, and instead of fixing his mane like any sane person, he headbanged a few times and decided the wildness of it was perfect. Which it was.

Eyeing the entirety of the bed in the reflection, he smirked. “Interesting place for a mirror.” He turned to you. “Do you have your character sheet and stuff?”

You held up your purse. “Yep.”

“Sweet.”

~~~

Arriving at your dreaded destination, Eddie escorted you down the halls of Hawkins High, opening doors for you with a half-bow and grand sweep of his arm. You’d only spent one year here, and that was enough to build sore memories. Passing by your dented locker someone repeatedly broke into to steal your things, the classroom where a girl stuck gum to the back of your neck, the grassy patch near the concrete steps you had been formally introduced to after a boy shoved you because he heard a rumor you had a crush on him. All acts the principal excused as, “Kids being kids.”

Problems Eddie took upon himself to fix. Sharing his locker. Coming home with a black eye beneath the one his parole-granted father gave him. Threatening anyone who looked at you twice, regardless if he was the instigator. He shielded you. Your knight in rusted tin armor.

“Didn’t realize your club was literally at school.”

“Oh yeah, it’s the easiest place for us to meet,” he said, showing you to the back entrance of the theater. “Welcome.. To Hellfire Club.” He walked backwards into the prop storage area, and you couldn’t quite tell if you were supposed to be impressed by the big empty table in the middle, or if he was joking with you. To be polite, you pointed out the club’s handmade banner on the wall.

“Cool logo.”

His grin grew wicked. “I’m so glad you like it.” Removing his backpack, he unzipped it and took out a bundle of black and white fabric. “You should know the first rule of Hellfire Club is.. You gotta wear a member shirt.”

You caught what was hurled at you and unfolded it, frowning. “You couldn’t even turn it right-side-out?” Pulling the sleeves through and shaking out the wrinkles, you saw why it was balled up, and snarked in disgust, “Did you wear this already?”

“Rules are rules, my dear,” he sang, setting up his barricade of binders where he sat on his gaudy throne like the incensing king he wished he was.

“And where do you expect me to change?”

“It’s a theater department. Go find a prop tree, or,” –He threw his thumb over his shoulder– “The Russian cathedrals behind me, or something.”

“That would be sacrilegious, Eddie.” Opting for the gathering of standee trees and bushes blocking you from both his sight and the door, you said goodbye to your Macho Man t-shirt and peeled it off, stuffing it in your purse.

You should feel humiliated, embarrassed by how your body reacted holding his worn shirt in your hands. Flushed hot from burning cheeks to curled toes. You cradled the delicate memento to your chest, collar gripped tight in your fingers, hem tickling your exposed belly, sleeves tucked in your arms. You should feel ashamed of your nipples hardening against your thin bra when you paused in the trivial space between smelling his clothing and still having alibi if he caught you.

His shadow stayed at the table, arranging his things, and you broke for your old addictions.

An itch you could scratch again, finally.

Fabric to nose, you curled your shoulders in and inhaled deep. It was him. All him. Turning you dizzy. Invading your mind fuzz. Eliciting a perverse craving, an insatiable hunger. Inciting a primal greed over your possession. You don’t know what started this habit–him giving you his clothes and you obsessing over every little detail that was Eddie Munson–but you knew it was wrong.

However, the image of his body touching what lied in your palms, creating the scent buzzing in your veins, draping yourself in the smell of his sweat knowing it belonged to him alone.. It felt so fucking right.

Getting a hold of yourself, you quickly pulled it over your head, and tucked the hem into the corduroy skirt you borrowed from one of your teammates. You’d been hidden behind the trees long enough for Eddie to ask if you required assistance, and now you had to pretend you hadn’t been a complete degenerate for a full minute straight, getting high off his scent.

“Was it necessary to make me wear your dirty laundry?” you scoffed. “And what is this stain at the bottom?”

“I think it’s from a–” He turned around to finish his statement. The dice tower in his hand tumbled to the floor.

What a fantastic thing white shirts revealed to be when under the dramatic overhead lighting of the drama department.

He swallowed. “From a pen exploding on me.” Managing the meager sentence, he commanded his gaze off your chest and met your equally stunned expression reflecting the thrill of catching him. “I designed the logo myself,” he said a bit too loudly.

“Cool.” You nodded slowly, locking in the memory of how he devoured your clothed body, how he had to blink away and adjust his stance. “Cool, and what were the other rules?”

“Other rules?”

Picking up the dice tower at your feet, you put it on the table, taking inventory of the figures and miniatures he would be using during the game. He returned to his flamboyant throne, organizing stacks of campaign plots written in his neat handwriting. “You said wearing the shirt was the first rule like there were more, so what’s the second?”

“Oh, there is no second rule.” He smiled above the binders, all cocksure and full of himself as if you hadn’t just witnessed him staring at your tits moments ago. ��Except, of course,” he implored, tilting his head, “Having fun.”

Attraction be damned, you could, in fact, wring this man’s neck.

~~~

The stage lights had been dimmed. A candelabra behind the throne cast the campaign in shadows, setting the mood. Jeff was the first to open the door, and his laughter trailed off. Gareth was second, watching you and Eddie converse over the graph paper map on the table.

“That wall should go one square to the right.” He checked his notes. “Then Gareth’s figure would be one to the left.” You leaned over the plastic chairs opposite him, following his directions, replicating where they left off on their game last Friday. “And I think we’re done.”

Breaking the spell settling over his Dungeon Master’s face as he watched his assistant saunter to the right hand spot at the table where Jeff usually sat, Gareth stepped forward and announced his presence rather well, he thought. “So that’s why Eddie was talking about you at lunch.” To which Jeff added, “You should’ve seen him, he looked so cute updating us on you..” And serving the knockout punch was Lloyd, who had just come in. “Hey Eddie, Eddie’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” You tried not to do the cliche thing of shifting your eyes to Eddie, but your curiosity got the better of you. “You were talking about me?”

Jeff supplied the answer, “Oh yeah, he was bragging about you being the best gymnast on your team.” He sat across from you, ignoring the way Eddie was shaking his head at him, frantically communicating his panic through his wide-eyes screaming at him to shut up.

Gareth piped up again, “He said you ran off to Penn State.”

“And he warned us not to be weird at DND tonight, presumably he meant not being weird in front of you,” Lloyd said.

Tickled by their eagerness to divulge this information with you at their leader’s expense, you found it most interesting Eddie was speaking so highly of you when he hadn’t apologized yet, or ensured you two were on amicable ground before giving them a dissertation on your life since you left. “Is that true?” you asked Eddie, who performed his best innocent act.

“I–Well, it’s not like it sounds.”

“You see,” Jeff ribbed, “he hadn’t talked about you in years. He was just excited you were back in town, and wouldn’t let anyone else get a word in edgewise; going on, and on, and on, about how you’re some college big shot now, and just so cool.”

Eddie pointed a stern finger at him, and said through gritted teeth, “I did not say that last part.”

Luckily for the blush crawling up Eddie’s throat, the door opened again and all attention turned to the last three guests for the evening. Unfortunately for Eddie’s self-esteem, Dustin was in a chatty mood.

“Sweet, a girl’s joining us. You must be Eddie’s girlfriend he was talking about at lunch.”

“Fucking Christ,” he put his face in his hands.

You offered a faint, “I’m not his girlfriend,” and introduced yourself properly to those you hadn’t met yet, amused by Mike’s haircut resembling a certain someone’s next to you, and Lucas’ windbreaker pants, wearing them from his first basketball practice.

However, as the idle chatter waned, you gave in to the irking awareness someone was staring at you, and quirked a brow at Jeff, who was squinting at something in particular.

“Nice shirt,” he said, flicking his gaze to the ink stain.

This was going to be a long night..

Intervening, Eddie slammed his hands on the table, shaking his plethora of binders, commanding his distracted party to assimilate into their characters. “As we left off..” Slipping into his role as Dungeon Master, he sat at the edge of his plush seat, legs spread wide, gripping the ornate edges of his throne. He wove the tale in a mysterious tone, building anticipation, “Taking the quest from Hordram, the dwarven barkeep, you find yourselves lost to the labyrinth hidden deep within the Mountains of Hag Baduhr. Days are immeasurable as you succumb to sleep-deprived delirium. All you know is darkness, cold, and the stench of old gore dried to your clothes. Dank mildew stuck in your nose. The faint drips of water..” He held up his hand and curled his fingers in one at a time. “Drip. Drip. Drip. A clock with no hands, nor face. Neverending shadows playing tricks on your mind as your torch loses its flame, knocked from Sargas’ hand in the last battle.” Eddie made a show of gesturing to Lucas to indicate that was his character. “Gareth, you chose to limp deeper into the narrow passage of the maze, hissing at your wounds, clutching onto your wounded arm. A musty, warm breeze caresses your right cheek, almost undetectable. Around the corner you approach comes a soft orange glow. You hear something shifting. What do you do?”

Gareth chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered where his figure stood on the map. “Can I tell if there is another pathway nearby?”

“Roll for perception.” The dice tumbled from his palm. Eddie sucked his teeth. “No, it looks to be a dead end and your only option is the stretch of light coming from the right.”

“I tap my gauntlet on the wall twice, giving them the signal for backup.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at the rest of his little adventurers, and they agreed. You garnered they had just finished an intense fight from their descriptions of having the help carry Lloyd’s tiefling barbarian. “Now, the smell of smoke wafts to you. Soot and pine.”

“Another torch?” Jeff whispered in character.

“On three?” Gareth said to his team. They nodded, and looked to Eddie to lead them through the scenario.

“Upon the bend in the labyrinth, you peek around the corner as one, weapons at the ready. Breaths held. Peering into the depths at..” Dramatic pause. A swell of his chest as he bewitched his audience into hanging onto his every word. “You encounter not a monster, but another person, perched on a mossy slab.” With a dramatic sigh, he slouched sideways on his throne, propping his elbow on the chair’s arm and settling his cheek into his palm, tapping his forefinger on his high cheekbone. Beholding you from beneath his long lashes as he granted you the stage to introduce your character.

Unfolding the paper in your shaky hands, you didn’t know if you were supposed to roleplay yet, or read from the sheet, but with how dry your mouth became, you chose to stick with what you wrote. If you could read it, that is.

Everything swirled. Stammering, you tried, “I’m a half-elf cleric named Valendrei. Lawful good. Level 5. Uh..” How much were you supposed to share? Did it sound dumb? Was everyone expecting more? When were you supposed to enter the scene?

Eddie bumped his leg against yours, ceasing your nervous bouncing.

“Uhm, I chose the Life Domain, if that matters..” Calm. His adoring gaze. Calm. Proud of you for taking part in his hobby. Calm. “My shield lays in splinters at my feet, and my mace rests propped against the slab. I’m unarmed except for the torch I’m using to cauterize a wound on my knee.”

Lloyd reacted first. “Intense.”

“That’s metal,” Dustin said, impressed.

Earning their respect stirred a deep-seated desire etched into your very being; a want to belong. And same as always, you glimpsed at Eddie for his approval to gauge whether you were doing the right thing, but instead of being met with his mild reassurance, he looked at you in bold admiration. Stark glory, hair fanned about his face from him twisting it. Eyes nearly closed from how broad his smile was. Fingertips placed on his bottom lip, tracing it languidly as his chest jumped with a laugh.

“Should’ve known you would pick a healer,” he said to you, and sat up to address the others. “She hates it when her favorite characters die in books, so now she wants to be the one to save them.” Entranced by his mouth, you watched it form the coy remark, wholly invested in what annoying observation he would conclude next. “Although.. Lawful good? That’s a mighty claim. Need I remind you, I’ve seen your permanent record.”

“Shut up. It’s my character, she can be lawful good.”

He seemed hellbent on oversharing your previous life together. “You know that cheerleader Brittany who graduated two years ago, the one with the broken nose? Guess who did that.” Their eyes were on you. You kicked Eddie’s shoe under the table, telepathically yelling at him to cut it out. Much to your dismay, he snapped a few times, recalling something, and said, “That’s right! And there was that other time in 8th grade when you were suspended for beating up that popular girl. Man, you guys should’ve seen it. She knocked her to the ground, sat on her chest, and just fucking whaled on her.” He mimicked your punches while the guys laughed. “It was crazy. I’ve never seen so much blood. What did she say to you, anyway?”

Trailer trash. She called Eddie weird, she called him ugly, and she called him trailer trash. In a classic misunderstanding, Eddie was being his normal self around Jessie, who was from the good suburbs, and she mistook his goofy, boisterous antics as him flirting with her. And as soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to her giggling friends, and your next vivid memory was pulling your fist back, musing over how sticky blood became when it reached oxygen. “I don’t remember,” you mumbled.

“You fucking rock, dude,” someone said. You weren’t sure who.

“I mean, you see her guns, that girl stood no chance,” Eddie raved. With the candles crowned above his head like a halo, you had no choice but to bask in the radiance of his everlasting light. “Strongest person I know,” he said quietly, dragging his gaze over your broad shoulders filling out his shirt. Deliberate in his efforts to appreciate the finer details of where it hugged you.

He was so obvious. A wave of whispers ensued; gossips of yours and Eddie’s names at the intimate table where his knee touched the skin of your thigh through the rips in his jeans.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he was all business. He staked an elven figure on the map, and demanded silence and the continuation of his game. “So, you see an unassuming, unarmed half-elf before you. Do you invite her to your party?”

The clear answer was yes, and yet..

The apple of Jeff’s cheeks shined with joy under the same benevolence you shied from. “I’m not about to trust some rando in a dungeon,” he said to Eddie while picking up a dice. “I prepare my spear.”

This would be a long night, indeed.

~~~

Neverending encounters.

Dismembered goblin parts laid in heaps like bricks around your party. Their gore clung to your armor. In fantasy, your half-elf worked to bandage your teammate’s wounds; in reality, clusters of dice rolled across the table top. Bleak were the low health points. The squish of pallid flesh, the metallic taste in your mouth, the putrid reek of entrails. Eddie’s knack for descriptive storytelling would follow you to bed that night.

More dice rolls. Lucas found a treasure chest of disappointment. All those goblins for very little loot, and anticlimax in the form of him passing off his Wand of Magic Detection to you. An impractical object since the spell could not penetrate stone, and being in a labyrinth inside a mountain, it was not exactly useful, but considering you had the bag space and no shield, you accepted it.

Down, down the labyrinth you traveled. An enemy here, an ambush there. Dense packs of creatures, but low on health, meaning this was a good sign you were heading in the right direction. Gareth and Lloyd led the way with your dwindling torch, insisting those of you with darkvision determine paths. Up, up an incline, over a ravine on a tattered rope bridge. The wind became thick. The scent earthier. It seemed like you were helping them escape the maze. It seemed like you were everyone’s hero, healing their sores and sending them off to freedom. It seemed like you were the star of the night after answering a riddle far too easily for the cunning mind who created it. It seemed to be too good to be true, because it was. Especially paired with the Dungeon Master’s rolls behind his binders, running his tongue over his top lip with an excited lurch in his posture when Dustin suggested Mike’s wizard bounce a fireball down a hallway, and suddenly, fog engulfed the party.

A smirk claimed Eddie’s face as he placed an elaborate figure of a winged lion on the map. “My friends, you have alerted a manticore to your location, and he, and his prey hiding amongst the shadows, are not very happy to have you in their domain.”

~~~

You tried. Cantrips on your tongue, hands aglow with prayers. Spending actions until your spell slots were nearly exhausted. Salves, bandages, well wishes; they fell short. Your friends laid splayed on their backs, gurgling through mucky blood in their throats. Manticore spikes impaled their forearms, protruding like breached bones. Skin flayed in ribbons. All the while, the manticore stood ready to attack, its thick fur acting as armor. Another round of Death Saving Throws were completed and Eddie’s menacing leer was upon you.

“The manticore sinks into its hind legs, nails scraping the stone floor, and he leaps forward. His wings extend, catching the draft, and he lunges for you, Valendrei. Mouth open. Fangs glistening in the torchlight, dripping with blood. What do you do?”

Two second level spell slots remained. You asked Lloyd, “If I cast Healing Word, can you protect me?”

“How confident are you that I’ll heal enough to not immediately die again?”

“Not very.”

“Mm.”

Tapping your pencil on the corner of your character sheet, you ground your teeth at your options, weighing them in your head as Mike offered a cooing wisdom.

“This was a tough dungeon and the school year just started. Don’t worry about our characters dying, we can always make new ones. It’s not your fault, no healer would’ve been able to juggle a party this size.”

His well-meaning kindness got under your skin.

You weren’t a loser. You didn’t earn consolation prizes. You were a gold medalist, you could outsmart the Dungeon Master.

“Tick, tock,” your smarmy friend added from over his binders.

Reading over your abilities, your bag space, your copper–anything, your gaze zeroed in on one item.

“What does the Wand of Magic Detection look like?”

Eddie blinked. Gears turned in his head, calculating your scheme, rushing through simulations of where you were leading him, and finding no flaw–nor logic–in your question. As a severe, but not unkind Master, he consulted his books, and figured he’d be generous. Just this once. You had 4 hit points left. You weren’t coming out of this scenario alive, anyway. “What do you want it to look like?”

Flipping over your sheet, you sketched a straightforward rod with a pointed gem at the top, not unlike the ones you’d seen in the Player’s Handbook yesterday. A simple wand, but efficient. You weren’t about to take advantage of Eddie by conjuring up something ludicrous and overpowered. “Like this.” You showed him.

Suspicious, he drawled, “Sure, that works.”

“I shove it in the manticore’s mouth.”

“What?”

“You said his mouth was open, so I wedge it in there. Vertically. Preferably with the gem against the hard palate and the base against the soft floor under his tongue, but I’ll take what I can get.” You laced your fingers and appeared stoic despite his condescending taunt.

“I’m gonna need a dex check for that one, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

You disregarded the pet name, ascribing it to one of his habits. A slip of his tongue, nothing more. Besides, you had a game to play.

The table embraced your confidence. Murmurs of encouragement, exchanges of premature celebration, more than one person chanting for your victory. You picked up the die and imbued it with your collective support, and rolled.

“Nat 20!”

“Man, that’s one way to decimate a monster.”

Slowly, Eddie drew his gaze to the paper in front of him. Eyes moving back and forth over his handwriting. Losing the crease between his brows as he buckled under the weight of acceptance. “Roll for damage,” he mumbled.

You complied with an arrogant lilt, “Is 28 enough?”

The corner of Eddie’s lips jumped in a small smile aimed at his clasped hands. Gareth erupted in a rowdy cheer, recognizing the look on his face as one of content defeat, and Jeff took it upon himself to flick the manticore figure off the map. “Screw you and your grueling labyrinth.”

You were being rocked back and forth. Many hands patted your back, shook your shoulders, bumped your fist. Lauding you for your wit, and for being the one to put Eddie in his place. You were glowing under their excitement, their congratulations, their insistence on coming back to Hawkins to play with them again, and your best friend sat on his throne, chin in his hand–palm covering his mouth–smitten from the group’s acceptance of you.

“That’s my girl.”

He didn’t mean for anyone to hear it, and for the most part, everyone had sat back down, busy making their Death Saving Throws and rationing out potions, gunning for your spell slots. But you heard it.

That’s my girl.

His praise, the creaking of his chair as he leaned forward, the rustle of his papers as he poured over his notes for the next part of the story he crafted; shifting the same way he did yesterday in his van, except there was no lighter to drown out his words.

You were his girl.

Your heart raced at the implication. Turning your body heat on high, and with it, carrying his shirt’s scent to your nose again. Snapped to attention like an obedient animal and it didn’t even phase you as you did it. Frozen on the receiving end of a brutal awakening. A winner all your life, but on the caveat you could score higher, move faster, perform sharper. Words of affirmation followed by a critique. Not from Eddie, though. You were his perfect girl who did everything right.

What else could he praise you for?

A whine hitched in your throat at the visual your mind latched onto.

And he caught you in the midst of your preening for more. How you sat up straighter. Unadulterated desperation in your candid expression; a slight parting of your plump lips. Tempting his massive ego into discovering your secret. Too taken by his words to erase the evidence of your reaction.

Eddie’s pupils were black lakes absorbing every detail of your face. Mirrors reflecting intrigue. Exhilaration. A curiosity rivaled by no other.

Leaning towards you, head and voice down where the others could not eavesdrop, he asked, “You good?”

Ever the deviant, you responded with one short confirmation, loud enough for his ears only, “Yes, sir.”

He tensed. Eyes widening the exact way someone’s would when trapped in this predicament; squirming under the narrowed scope you viewed each other in after hitting that sweet spot neither of you were aware of, and having no outlet to act upon it. Afterall, you had only agreed to be friends again hours ago. There were boundaries to your relationship. Walls. Guards he resurrected around his heart.. And drool pooling against his bottom lip as he remembered you were wearing a skirt and what sort of sinful delights were trapped between your thighs.

Fervent whispers were had at the other end of the table, and after a hushed debate, Dustin spoke up, “Are you two going to keep flirting, or are you going to wrap this up so we can go home?”

Recovering first, Eddie forced a laugh and opened his arms wide. “Taken by surprise, the manticore continues its planned trajectory, biting down on the wand with its powerful jaw. The gemstone pierces the tissue at the back of his throat. Blood flows over Valendrei’s arm as she retreats from her move. He attempts another bite, lusting for her demise, but the wand lodges deeper into its flesh, crushing his windpipe. Succumbing to the pain, it stumbles backwards into a shimmering wall and disappears behind it. Shimmering, shimmering. The wall waves like heat refracting on hot ground. And then.. It dissipates. Striking bright light blinds you. Warmth gathers all of you in a hug. Scents of damp tree bark and chimney smoke welcome you. The manticore lays in an open plain of grass, gasping its last breath. Beyond him, on a hill in the far distance, is the beginnings of a village amongst the sparse woods.”

”Whiteridge!” The name of the town their original quest was for, before the unrelenting maze of the labyrinth diverted them. Next week they could return to their adventure, experience gained, and free from their Dungeon Master’s cackling.

A succinct, yet satisfying close to the evening. Pushing back from the table, you carried a conversation with the guys outside the theater while Eddie made notes for himself about the map and what miniatures he would need for the village.

Falling behind the freshman, Jeff, Gareth, and Lloyd slowed once you’d said bye to the others, passing around silent looks in lieu of spoken word. When you turned around, Jeff volunteered as the one who should confront you.

“So, about Eddie..”

“About Eddie?” you asked, feeling the elation of the evening evaporate from your mood at his serious tone.

“We feel like you should know how he reacted after you left.” Taking a deep breath, he struggled to explain. “I don’t know how much he told you, or if he told you at all; and you know I’m not really into all the stuff you guys do–drugs, or whatever–but.. I don’t know, man.. He was on some serious shit for a while after you left. No one knew what happened to you, and he just kinda.. spiraled out of control.”

Lloyd said, “My mom worked at the pharmacy back then. It was a shitload of pills.”

“I went over to get him for band practice one time and..” A wince developed on Gareth’s face as he came to terms with what he saw. “It was sad, walking in on someone crushing their day’s worth of benzos into these little meticulous lines to snort later.”

“Jesus..” You thought back to the diner and shook your head, confused. “He said it was a few days that he couldn’t remember.”

All three of them bulged their eyes at the ground. “It was definitely more than a few days.”

Gareth soothed you, “He evened out eventually, obviously. He’s been normal since then, but when you first came back, we were kinda worried he’d relapse, but, uh.. I guess things are fine now?” He ran his hand over his nape and shrugged at the others.

“Whatever you two are,” Jeff began. You didn’t bother picking at the scab of correcting him that you were only friends. “We hope you’re working things out. I know you’re in town for other reasons, but I wouldn’t hate it if you came to visit again some day. Don’t forget you left me without saying anything, too.” He drew in a long breath, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, swaying. “But if Eddie can forgive you, then you’re cool with me.”

“Yeah, you’re fun to play with,” Lloyd added. “Just saying, give it a thought if you can make the drive.”

Sensing the end of the heart-to-heart, Gareth walked in the direction of the school’s parking lot. “There'll always be a seat at the table for you.” Lloyd dipped his head in farewell and joined him.

Waiting for them to disappear amongst the cars, Jeff shifted his weight beside you, crunching grass beneath his shoes. Faced turned up at the stars, taking a moment of peace for himself. You sighed into the cricket-laden night. “Was Eddie really that bad?”

He gave you his blessing. “He’s better now, and I think that’s all he cares about, and all you should focus on. The present. See ya around, yeah?”

“See ya.” Watching him leave, you tightened your arms around yourself, fiddling with the sleeves of Eddie’s shirt as you unpacked way too much information for one day. Returning to the prop area, you shut the door softly behind you, and picked up a trash bin, cleaning up the soda cans and snacks while Eddie packed his things; stuffing papers in his binder and closing it, putting figures in a wooden box. You worked in quiet tandem. Avoiding the other, and being painfully aware of their presence all the same when the unexpected graze of fingers produced a physical yearn–a flinch–when you both reached for a notebook, and the simultaneous whispers of, “Sorry,” stained the interaction as an accident, thus no longer meaningful. “Can I ask you a question?”

Eddie hesitated. “Depends.”

“How come you were talking about me at lunch when we didn’t end yesterday on a good note? You had no idea if I still wanted to come today.”

Relieved it wasn’t about other matters, he revealed his truth. “Hope, really. I had hope. I thought if I manned up and apologized, you’d want to try being friends again, and want to play tonight.” Putting on his jacket and grabbing his bag, he continued on the way to his van, “Plus, as annoying as he is.. Jeff was right about one thing. I was excited to brag about you.”

It was times like these, when Eddie minimized his pain and downplayed his hurt, that you wondered if there were enough apologies in the world to overcome your guilt. He didn’t talk about you for years. Numbed himself for days, weeks, months, and lied to you about it.

He opened the car door for you. Because of course he did.

He kept the radio on low, in case you wanted to talk, because of course he did.

You were finally friends again, and you couldn’t look at him. He could look at you, though. Glancing every minute he drove at a reasonable speed down the dark road, gripping the steering wheel too tight. Taking a breath as if he were about to speak, and letting it go by clearing his throat when he couldn’t get the words out.

Jeff could be right about two things.

Moving on was easier. Reverting to your old dynamic, your style of banter, of laughing until your stomachs hurt; though it came with the confusing sentiment of relentless adoration, yet keeping each other at arm’s-length. You were ready to embrace it. Ready to work on forgiving yourself, if you could manage.

You wanted Eddie, needed him to be your friend again.

In the motel parking lot, he aimed for the room on the corner near the edge of the woods, with the extra window opposite the bathroom where a lamp you left on painted the green bushes lining the trees stark orange.

It was far too easy for Eddie Munson to be charming.

Standing in front of your door, caught in the headlights of his van, you both made awkward attempts at hiding your shy smiles. For a beat, your eyes met, and his toothy grin was as generous as him. This could be it, this could be goodbye. You could never see him after today and he spent his last moments with you nervously playing with his watch.

“Thanks for walking me the..” You eyed the ground. “Four feet to my door. What a gentleman.”

He swung his arms about him. “Anything to keep you safe at night.” You giggled. Waiting for either one of you to make the first move; to leave, to fuel the conversation, to say goodbye and mean it. Waiting for the sky to fall so neither of you would have to make a decision.

After another agonizing minute of sidelong looks, he brought his thumb to his mouth, and ran it over his lip. “So..” he attempted.

“So.”

Eddie dropped all pretenses and went for it.

He asked casually, “Does your fancy dorm have a communal phone, or a payphone nearby, or something like that?” Understanding immediately what he was getting at, your surprised expression did no favors in helping ease his adrenaline. His confidence wilted. He gave you an out, “If not–”

“Every room gets their own phone with an extension. I just have to share it with my roommate. It even comes with an answering machine, so if we’re not there, someone could, in theory, leave a message.”

He whistled. “Extra fancy,” he said, raising his brows. “Could, ah..” You swore you could hear his heartbeat in the shallow breaths he took. In the antsy way he punched his fist in his hand, like old times. “Could I, maybe, get your number, then? Y’know.. If you want to talk more..”

“Sure.” Calm. Full of starstruck smiles. Totally calm, you ripped open your purse and took out your character sheet, tearing a long strip from the top, and using your pencil against the door to write the obscenely long number, trying not to tremble. You handed it to him and he pocketed it without reading it. Too enamored with the positive result of throwing caution to the wind.

“Sweet. Uhm.. I’ll see you–or–call you later. Not tonight, obviously.. But soon, yeah?”

You should win a gold medal for keeping in your laughter. “Yeah. Soon.”

Not at all fumbling with your keys while unlocking your door, you closed it behind you, dropped your head back on the wood, and released your energy in a suppressed squeal.

“Holy shit!” You couldn’t wait to rub it in your roommate's face, “A boy just asked me for my number.”

~~~

Forgetting to drive away, Eddie stared at the paper in his hand, studying it and the way you wrote the numbers above your half-elf’s name. He was so pleased with himself, he could pass out from the blood rushing to his head. “Holy shit.. I fucking did it.”

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff

[6okuto]

— asra relationship headcanons

gn!reader, switches between he/they pronouns for asra

warnings: none :-)

note from nia: i love asra sm like it's okay if he's a gemini guys. i'd say i can fix him but he doesn't need fixing. if asra has a million number of fans, then i am one of them. if asra ha-

whenever you walk into the room, he gets the biggest smile and beckons you over. he has such a lovestruck look on his face that everyone else in the room is either going "aww" or "oh my god please stop"

they like using pet names just to tease you — baby, darling, bub, love, sweetheart. if you use one on them they get immensely happy

whenever there's a holiday coming up he brings out matching pyjama sets for the both of you. halloween, christmas, valentine's - he's Ready. if you don't celebrate, he still has sets that you bring out randomly! it's then immediately titled a self-care relaxing kind of day/evening

they have a specific ringtone for you (one of your favourite songs) so that they always pick up no matter what they're doing

he loves when you guys do self-care together!! he'll help you push back any hair and put on a facemask, asking you to do the same for him

they really like showering/bathing with you. loves washing your back and hair :[ they also have a bunch of bath bombs

sometimes they cook breakfast when they wake up before you and bring it to you in bed (other times they'll lay there and wait for you to wake up)

lazy days are his favourite because he gets to sleep in with you. you often wake up to him looking at you, running his hand through your hair or tracing shapes on your back

they always always kiss you on the forehead and hug you before heading out

he takes photos of any pets being walked and sends them to you

all he says is "dog :)"

loves posting about you if you let them. they do those trends of posting their s/o on their story and are so proud about it.

his posts are like, random things with no context, jokes, and then photo dumps of (the two of) you

they're proud of anything and everything you do. you made a new painting? they love it and will point out all their favourite details. you wrote a new song or poem? they'll hum the tune as they work and talk about their favourite lines. you took some new photos you really like? they'll offer to get them printed and put them up. you crocheted something for them? they're wearing it the next time you go out. the most supportive partner ever

they wrap their scarf around you when it's cold

he'll also hold and breathe on your hands to warm them up

they can be big or little spoon, they enjoy both equally

they love kissing your knuckles. and forehead. and cheeks. and lips. they just really like kissing you

he's always up for giving you piggy back rides if you're tired

and if you ever decide to try surprising/pranking him by jumping into his arms, he will drop whatever he was holding to catch you. will spin you around and say "well hello there"

they always get panicky when you injure yourself, even if it's small

he has the silliest bandaids he could find at the store for small cuts (he takes larger injuries more seriously). hello kitty, barbie, hot wheels — there are literally no regular bandaids in your house unless you buy them yourself.

they bring back little trinkets from their travels for you and now there's an entire area on your dresser dedicated for them

you guys always get a mug/glass from the places you visit so your cupboards are full of mismatching ones

he's always holding your hand when you go out

if someone starts bothering you they pull you behind them and ask how they can help with the fakest smile

likes pda in the sense that he'll hold your hand while walking, but if you decided to grab his face and kiss him in the middle of the street, he'd be totally okay with it. might grin or smirk after tbh

one of their favourite dates was actually really simple: you made bracelets for each other!

he put charms with your favourite colours and animal on it. there's a little "ILY <3" in the middle. he never takes his bracelet off.

you know those bridges where you can lock a lock with your initials and stuff? there is definitely a brightly coloured lock somewhere with your names (+faust c:)

they also like doing escape rooms. every time you walk in they dramatically gasp and say "oh no! we're stuck in here together alone for the foreseeable future! what are we going to do mc?"

also?? thrifting dates are always fun because he picks out objectively the worst/most dramatic pieces there but still pulls it off. it's like those tiktoks where they try to make a bad outfit but you can't help but say "well hold on,"

ok last 'date' idea is walks at night. usually there isn't that many people around and they get to dance and spin you down the street with no worries :[

they always bring you to those mini photo booths when they spot one. the wall by your bed filled with photos now

drunk asra gets very giggly, loud, and clingy. like a big koala.

drunk asra also likes doing things that would get them in trouble (more than usual) so if you don't stop them, no one will.

asra uses kaomojis (emojis like (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡) and they alway draw them on sticky notes as well as little notes/reminders for you to find around the shop

after a long day of helping customers and tending to the shop, they drag you upstairs to cuddle and will not let go

if it was more of a frustrating rather than exhausting day, he refuses to end the day like that. he'll do whatever it takes — tickle you, have a little dance party, go for a walk, take a bath, it's always a toss up

if he ever catches you crying alone, he feels his heart break. he walks up to you and gently asks if you'd like his company. he'll pull you into his chest and runs his hand up and down your back, whispering kind affirmations and reassurances — "you'll never have to go through today again, i promise."

never forces you to talk but reminds you he's there if you need him

knows when you're burnt out and makes you to take a break

if you're super anxious about something, he'll do whatever he can to help with it while calming you down. he'll help you work past your comfort zone if you ask, but he knows your boundaries and never pushes you to do something you don't want to

they like when you paint their nails fun colours :)

you guys have so many blankets and pillows it'd be shocking if you didn't have a fort built somewhere

there's also a lot of pillow fights

you guys just like doing dumb stuff. sliding around with socks on, trying out couple tiktok trends, trying to cook without a recipe. it's a very fun relationship <3

they remember basically every single detail you share

it makes for great birthday presents because they'll remember that really specific thing you mentioned like 4 months prior

they like opening doors for you, sometimes teasing you by bowing and going "my liege"

he likes playing co-op games with you! open world games, indie games kind of thing. also stuff like overcooked despite the chaos that ensues

he won't hesitate to compete against you in like, super smash bros or something though. he's somehow good at uno even though it relies a lot on luck??

like anytime you get together with friends someone is getting +4 and it is Not asra (probably julian tbh)

asra hates whenever you two argue. they've gotten better at trusting you and working together rather than for you, but they're still scared sometimes. arguments don't last too long as you realize each of you just want to help and protect each other. they hug you really tight while exchanging apologies.

has most definitely had long talks with his parents about you and the future he envisions with you — whatever that entails. honestly could not care less if they decide to tell you about it, he's very open about wanting to spend his life together.

"yes i did say that. do you have any problems with it?"

[meowcatsposts]

Guitar Lessons [Ahmed]

Overview

Mans finds you in his studio playing the acoustic guitar that was on his stand

Then he’s like, woah that’s cool

You're so embarrassed lol

Trying to hide the guitar or smth

“You're perfect pitch so your ears are probably bleeding lol”

Mans laughs and shakes his head no

Somehow you end up finding out he doesn’t know how to play

And he begs you to teach him lol

Then during one of your lessons, he begins to strum chords and sings Soul Mate lmao

And steals glances at you

Literally a god

“U serenading me??”

“Yes”

You found yourself immersed in Ahmed’s studio, relishing the hollow, almost lulling atmosphere, gazing at the royally painted drum sets and the lonely guitars that were sitting in their dark corners.

He wouldn’t mind…right? you reassured your contemplating self, heading straight for the acoustic guitar.

After giddily setting and admiring the ink-lacquered instrument on your lap, you began to finger and pluck strings, ingraining the feel of it in your hands. Everything about it was perfect, sophisticated and refined, from the shiny nuts, little grooves in the strings, to pickguard.

Ahmed found himself wandering about the building, stumbling across a warm symphony dancing its way from his studio. 

“(Y/N)?” he said, quite astonished. 

“Ahmed? Oh lord…” You mistook his expression as one of bubbling anger, hastily wiping the strings and scampering over to put the guitar where it was.

“No, don’t put it away.” Ahmed’s eyes sparkled, as if made of emerald. “Can I hear more?”

You chuckled nervously, replying, “I probably made your ears bleed.” There was a window of silence as you slowly backpedaled to your original seat, gazing at the instrument sitting on your lap. Ahmed followed your movements, remaining still as ever. Then, you asked, “You have perfect pitch, right?” (I hc that this man has perfect pitch)

The Esper smiled, suppressing the laughter bubbling in his throat. “Well…I do, but I thought you sounded pretty wonderful.”

“Oh, and to answer your question,” you trailed, cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I screw up pretty bad with an audience, so…”

“If that’s the case…” Ahmed hummed. He lifted his electric guitar from its stand and sat down in front of you, smile still present as ever. “Can you teach me how to play?”

Flabbergasted, you gawked at him as if he grew two heads. “Wait…really?”

He chuckled at your reaction, warmth radiating from his face, a slight red dusting his bronze complexion. Then he locked those foamy green eyes with you, burning with determination. 

“I’d love to learn from you.”

After teaching him the basics for flatpicking and making him laugh at your mnemonic for tuning, you let out a tiny yawn, relaxing your tired muscles and fingers. Ahmed glanced at the clock, then at you, feeling a twinge of guilt nipping his insides.

“Sorry for keeping you for so long,” he sheepishly apologized, offering to put away the guitar in your hands. 

As you stared at him under the moonlight, gently placing the instruments on their stands, you replied, “Oh, it’s fine. I didn’t mind.” 

He looked absolutely ethereal. Even better than in his concerts or meet-and-greets. 

“I didn’t expect that.” Ahmed laughed softly, wiping a wisp of purple hair out of his eyes. He made his way next to you and plopped down. “People usually get frustrated when they’re teaching for so long.”

You snorted, reminiscing of your past teachers and mentors, finding validity in his statement. “I guess…but I had fun.” Suddenly, a thought lodged itself in your mind, so you asked him, “Don’t your fingers hurt? You know, since it’s your first time?”

Ahmed examined his fingertips for a while. “...They do, but I used to cut my fingers all the time in Chic-Pit-A, so I guess I got used to it.”

You made a funny face, to which he chuckled at. “What the heck did they make you do there?” you gushed, imagining sharp knives and scary fast-food machinery.

“I dropped plates a lot.” His eyes turned overcast with trouble, reflecting dying spring. 

“Oh…” You didn’t know how to respond, so you brewed in the remaining silence.

“Anyway,” Ahmed said, gentle light returning in his eyes. “Would you mind teaching me again? Whenever you’re free, that is.”

Almost a month passed since you’ve tutored Ahmed, and you had to admit, he had lots of musical talent. At times, it would make you envious just hearing and seeing him play. You also had to admit he’d been very adamant about playing together in the studio, masking it with his gentle demeanor. The way his eyes would glow eagerly whenever you’d enter the room, or how your guitar would already be atop your seat, or how his warm smile would remain throughout every session always tickled the back of your mind.

One day, you heard him playing a rather difficult melody, heartily flowing from the open studio door. 

“What’s that song called?” you asked, quietly stepping into the room, entranced.

Ahmed’s deft fingers came to a halt on the fretboard as he grinned childishly. “It’s a secret.”

“Huh.” Although you didn’t mind his rather secretive behavior, the devil on your shoulder decided to tantalize him. “If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll just play by myself.”

Ahmed perked up, perplexed. “What does that mean?”

“No tutoring, perhaps?” 

As you saw his expression contort into one of dejection, guilt churned violently in your gut, and your facade began to crack. Ahmed, who was keen about your wavering expression, chuckled. His fingers ghosted the strings as he stared at you intently.

“Well, then,” he hummed, eyes averting to the fretboard. “I’ll play some of it for you.” 

“Wait-” you started. Panic roiled in your head like a distant storm. “I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, it’s fine. You didn’t mean it, did you?”

You nodded sheepishly, to which he replied with a small chuckle and pat on the chair in front of him. After waiting for you to take your usual seat, Ahmed began to softly pick with his fingers, producing a warm melody you’ve never heard before.

He knows how to fingerpick? you thought to yourself.

Then, his lips parted, and he began to sing.

“Maybe I’m a little too shy…”

At first, you simply thought he was caught in the moment, deft fingertips dancing over the fretboard and soundhole. But why was he stealing glances your way and smiling so invitingly? His beautiful green eyes sucked you into his performance and rooted you tightly to your seat, and mellow voice reverberated through your body; rose petals tickled your cheeks, bringing forth a warmth that pulled at your heart. 

With a boiling hot face, you trailed quietly, “Are you…?”

 “Serenading you?” Ahmed finished your sentence for you and stopped his performance, adding a pleased, “Yes.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage, as you were currently overheating and freezing all at the same time. Although you hid your burning face well enough, you couldn’t hide your steaming ears, and Ahmed chuckled delightfully.

“I take it you liked my performance?” he asked, gently peeling your hands off your face. You nodded shyly, noticing his cheeks were dusted lightly with pink, biting down a smile. 

“So, uh…” you started, unsure of what to say in the situation. However, you decided to add a little humor to the rather embarrassing moment. “Do I have to pay for your spectacular performance?”

“We can save your payment for later,” Ahmed replied, chuckling, “since I think I broke you.” He sheepishly rubbed his guitar’s wooden neck and smiled to himself, then to you. When your eyes met, you nearly melted like a s’more again.

“Um…also, did you know how to play all along?”

“Maybe.”

You nearly fainted lol

[sylveren]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄

He's the kinds who would definitely take days off work just to spend time with you whenever you say so. Today would be one of them. He took an off because he felt he hadn't spent time with you lately, and he wanted to spend every moment the day had to offer with you. Every morning, he'd be the first one to get up from his slumber, but on an everyday basis he could never admire your features while you're asleep, he was always in a hurry. He would move closer to you and hug you tighter and keep you closer to him. Moving the messy strands of hair that fell on your face, he chuckled at how cute you looked, slightly snoring. You looked so calm and peaceful, it was purely heartwarming. Waking you up meant peppering kisses all over your beautiful face. The warmth you got from his body as he cuddled you, gave you butterflies. It was refreshing to have him like this with you, when you don't get such days often. He makes you the best breakfast, and he'd ask you to stay relaxed while he takes care of everything. He makes the most lavish dish for you, garnished with love. He just wants to take care of you today.

For the afternoon, he already had plans. He wanted to take you out on a picnic. Sit on the green grass, with the least amount of disturbance, enjoying the weather. Eren is definitely a person who would love to rejoice the nature — flora and fauna. The serene environment is always pleasing to him. And it would be even more of a bliss if he got to spend such times with his beloved. You both would have long talks about your childhood, your past, remember all good memories and be your silly little selves. You'd be laughing till your jaws hurt, feeling completely free. Whenever you were around, everything was blurred out for him, in his eyes it was only you who was there, he didn't care about the rest of the world. Champagne, simple lunch, and arms linked together, what more would anyone want? Resting your head on his shoulder as he would wrap his arm around you, keeping you safe and close, while you both take delight in the beautiful setting sun. The orange and red hues painted in the sky, it's absolutely unrealistic how nature could be so peaceful and delightful.

At night, you'd both get some food from your go-to takeout place, eat the food while it's hot inside the car, playing your favourite songs on repeat. This would be the few minutes when you both would be simply enjoying the most classic meal quietly, only the sound of whatever song was playing would be filling up the atmosphere. Driving back home, you kept the window down, taking in the cool fresh air. On reaching home, getting changed into your PJs, Eren had something more in mind to put this day to an end with a musical sweet note. He had written this song for you back when you both had started dating each other. He had fallen for you pretty hard, and how could he not? The sweet smile, the kind soul you have, the biggest heart.. oh he loves it all. He would quietly pat the space next to him on the bed, as you excitedly lay down right next to him. He's stretch his arm out, and you lay your head on it. He'd pull you closer and play with your hair and occasionally kiss your forehead. Once comfortable, he'd start humming the tune to the song and sing it delightfully to you. How soothing it felt to listen to his voice, it would calm you down always, it was heavenly to your ears. You wouldn't even realise when you felt asleep, as eren heard your light snores, he'd chuckle at your cuteness and carefully change his side, now facing you, as he'd hug you and whisper a "good night, sweetheart" in your ear, while you both slept peacefully in each other's embrace.

© SYLVEREN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — DO NOT PLAGIARISE OR REPOST MY CONTENT ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM! PLEASE DO LET ME KNOW IF YOU FIND THESE FANFICS ANYWHERE.

JOIN THE CREW — TAGLIST

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

EVEN MORE Small Things to Imagine With The Brothers and Undatables

.

Because I got in a good mood after listening to 'My Narrow Road' from Ito Kashitaro. I recomend! it’s good!

.

Lucifer

The way he squints challengely at you when you spot a single paper plane on the corner of his office that looks suspisciously like a document.

The ultimate betrayal as he nudges the back of your knees with his own consequently making you almost lose balance.

The concentrated furrow of his brows upon his closed eyes as he tests the sounds of an old violin, big eyelashes slowly fluttering open as he gives a satisfied smile.

Present him a plushie and enjoy the sight as he takes a final look at his documents and any lost messages before going to bed, all the while keeping said plushie confortably sitting on his leg, his fingers absentmindely rubbing the soft texture every once in a while

.

Mammon

The casualness as you fix each other's clothes and accessories, your hands unwrinkling his collar, his fiddling with your own. Expect to have any long sleeves you wear suddenly be folded up whenever you guys sit near each other.

The teasing peek of skin from his belly and hips as his shirt rolls up just enough when he stretches his arms up with a very long, and slightly exagerated, yawn.

Having him laying on his arms on your middle, the adorable scrunch of his face, rubbing it on his arms as he tries to wipe off the growing smile on his lips when you give his nose an affectionate and gentle pinch.

Peeking from behind a tree and having him chase you around in circles until either of you decide to just to grab onto the other forcefully.

.

Leviathan

Tying his bangs in a cute little ponytail on the top of his head and watching as he refuses to undo it with pride for the entire day if the tie used was Ruri-Chan themed.

Making voices with him in front of a fan on a hot day, and watching as he starts to make more and more different voices and references the more confortable he gets.

Watching as Henry follows his owner's movements as he wanders back and forth in front of the big aquarium in a rant.

Hugging him close and playing with his hair as he burries his entire face on your shoulder and squeezing you closer with his arms each passing minute until he finally relaxes.

.

Satan

Challenging each other to read the most ridiculous crack fics in the most dramatic poet voice manageable and watching as he struggles to keep his composure.

The ridiculously serious and concentrated frown on his face as he tries to make a perfect ketchup cat on the top of an omelette and the ridiculously cute proud smirk on his lips as his eyes shine brightly at his successfull creation.

Talking to him about a show he has already watched and the undoubtedly excited fidgeding of his body as he struggles both to not spoil you of anything and to not give you omnious comments about what you should expect next.

Alternativelly, his coninuous gaze as he tries to read into every single detail on your facial expressions in a curious attempt to see if it gives out what he should expect to happen next on a show you have watched and recomended to him.

.

Asmodeus

The sight of him humming along to a tune with an absentminded smile as he paints his toe nails. There are clips in his hair to keep his bangs away from his eyes, toe separators on his feet and definetelly a few stains on his hands.

The way he looks in your direction with a wrigling brow as he flips his scarf dramatically over his shoulder in front of a store's one sided mirror.

Sharing a candied apple and watching as he smiles, small pieces of candy still stuck on and off his lips, giddy at both the idea of sharing it with you and the sweet taste of the lovely treat.

The happy twirl he gives as he shows off to you the new outfit he bought, clapping excitedly after having you do the same to him, possibly with the help of his own hand, spinning you smoothly almost like in a dance.

.

Beelzebub

Kissing the very tip of his nose and watching as the corners of his mouth squishes his reddening cheeks as he smiles so hard to the point he may not even be able to keep his eyes open anymore.

The almost bratty but adorable pout he gives when you deny him a sample of the still in process of making food before he proceeds to basically glue himself to your back, his head resting on your shoulders or head, expectant eyes watching as you move.

The sight of his hunk figure crouching down in front of a flower bed, his careful fingers giving the flowers a series soft and gentle nudges and touches, his face devoid of expression as he pays attention to every single detail. He nods, his face now carrying a satisfied smile. They were healthy.

Having him gladly and happily bend his head down to your height as you reach your hands into his hair, giving him a well deserved head pat.

.

Belphegor

Hanging up a blanket on top of a very throughly organized nest of pillows and stuffed animals in the dark, snuggling to him shoulder to shoulder, a flashlight in one hand, Grimm Fairy Tales on the other.

Watching as he succumbs himself to the rule of kittens as he lays down on the floor, giving a free pass for the small felines to climb and snuggle into his face, neck and body all they wanted.

Whispering ridiculous things right into each other's ears in an attempt to make the other laugh out loud in the worst places and situations.

Curling with him under a big blanket on a cold day, each with their own mug of hot chocolate. The adorable sight of a very obvious cream moustache that has made it's place on the sleepy demon's face.

.

Solomon

Taking Use of the closeness of your boddies while cuddling as an opportunity to tickle the hell out of him and watching as he struggles to decide if he should focus on getting out of your betraying hold or if he should keep on blocking your wriggling hands that keep reaching for his most sensitive spots.

Going on a small trip to the human world and somehow ending the day laughing your hearts out as you ride a two seats bike, that came equipped with two very nostalgic bells, together.

Sitting together with your backs touching, the immortal sorcerer closing his eyes, you being able to feel his every breath as he inhales and exhales, his body relaxing and melting into your presence alone.

Taking part of his shenanigans in the kitchen, feeding each other surprisingly edible samples, a happy smile never once leaving his face.

.

Simeon

Having your feet on top of his or his on top of yours as you both give in an attempt at slow dancing, his chuckles reverberating between your touching bodies, the vibrations leaving behind a small and giddy tingle on your skin.

Having him sit on the floor in front of you, your fingers combing through his dark hair and his body becoming more and more slouched as you attempt to style the silky strands into a braid.

Hands linked in the air for balance as each of you walk alongside an abandoned rail trail together, both of you aware, almost sheepishly, of how cheesy said action in fact was.

Sitting side by side on top of a tree branch, his fingers softly holding onto yours as both of you gaze into the distance, a gentle breeze swaying your clothes as the two of you enjoy a moment of confortable silence.

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Diavolo

Teaching him various types dances and styles, his beautiful laugh echoing through the walls as he both succeeds and fumbles in his gestures, bright eyes attently paying attention and mimicking your every movement.

Going to the carnival together, watching as the prince of hell almost bounces on his feet from attraction to attraction, all the while while wearing a cute animal eared headband he completelly refused to take off until he stepped inside his own castle.

Introducing him to the human world "magicians", his face morphing through a chain of expressions as he watches in wonderous amazement tricks ranging from simple card tricks to making things desappear, reapear and multiply.

Kissing each other all over the face, little smoochy noises getting mixed with a fit of giggles as both of you were set on not leaving a single patch of skin unkissed, even thought the two of you were now smiling too hard to even do it properly.

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Barbatos

Introducing him to fruit carving and watching as it slowly becomes like a new hobby for him. The buttler's posture and face turning into something almost fondly relaxed as he skillfully turns various types of fruits into beautiful shapes of objects, animals and flowers.

Giving each other an almost smirk like smile as you Link your arms together, the two of you bringing your respective glasses to your lips before drinking from the liquid at the same time.

Convincing him to try out scented candles, watching as he judges each option throughly, his expressions going through slight, almost unseen changes as he closes his eyes momentarily so he focuses solely on his senses of smell.

Gloved protective hands craddling your head onto his shoulder and firmly holding onto your back, the flicker of an almost sorrowfull expression threatening to break through his usual deadpan demanor gone unseen as he, strangely, hopes for his presence to be of enough confort.