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throneofsapphics · 5 months ago

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brush away the dust part 2

Batboys x f!Reader

(part one)

summary: after returning from Under the Mountain, you found things weren't quite the same between you and your partners. years later, painful memories are brought back up.

warnings: angst

word count: 2010

a/n: I'll admit I did write the original version of this back in October 2023, so its been hiding for a while. thank you to @whisperingmidnights for helping me give it a face lift

original song Inspo: Cocaine Jesus by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

What happened to your friend, y/n? Feyre asked innocently. Rhys’s entire body stiffened, and she frowned. The female had popped into her mind recently, an offhand comment by Mor about visiting Vivian and her. She knows they were introduced once, as Rhys’s friend but she hadn’t heard a word of her since.

“She moved,” he said curtly.

“Where?” Feyre pressed. There was something else about her, and she was determined to figure out what.

“Winter.” His fingers clenched around the pen, white knuckling as he tried to write, the ink ripping through the paper instead. She reached out to try and take it from him, to hold his hand, but he held onto it with a death grip.

“Tell me what it is,” Feyre sighed.

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Feyre knew she was pushing, and treaded carefully. “You said no secrets between us.” That seemed to flip something in him, because he dropped the pen and leaned back. Grief flooded his features - and surprised her.

“We were in a relationship,” he said curtly. Her mouth parted, she’d never expected … “She was with Azriel, Cassian, and I. For centuries.”

Feyre blinked several times. Surprisingly, no jealousy flooded through her. She knew he’d had lovers before but hadn’t thought all three of them would have the same one.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“I found my mate.” He didn’t meet her gaze, and it wasn’t out of shame for them being together. Feyre easily but the pieces together.

“Rhys,” she hissed, “tell me you didn’t toss her aside.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “She was there, Under the Mountain. Healing. We couldn’t risk being seen together, or speaking much.” She hadn’t known, she’d known nothing of this. “When I came back,” shame - she scented shame and a tiny pit of anger growing in him, “I knew you were my mate, and it wasn’t fair to her.”

“What about Cassian or Azriel?”

“It wouldn’t have … it wouldn’t have been the same without the three of us. Cassian has Nesta, and Az was fine.”

His mental walls were wide open, and she didn’t try to invade, but the strength of his memories sucked her in. The joy of the four of them together … ‘we can keep a spot for her for now.’

She reached out and called for Cassian and Azriel, and her tone left no room for bullshit. They were there within minutes.

Feyre slammed her palms against the desk, rising to her feet. “Look at me. All three of you.” They did, and she spoke to them as their High Lady. “You threw her out, after centuries of love - of her giving every fucking thing to you.” The two of them didn’t need to question who she was speaking of. In fact, they didn’t look too surprised. She wouldn’t be surprised if Rhys warned them.

“I didn’t throw-” Rhys began.

“You offered her a spot,” Feyre spat, “in the home she just returned to - after half a century ripped away from her home, from her family, and everything she loved. None of you,” she made sure to meet each of their eyes, “even tried to make things right.”

“Feyre,” Cassian said carefully, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, “it was complicated. She,” he glanced at Rhys, “they had been gone for so long - she came back different.”

“Mother above. You’re all idiots. She came back traumatized, and I guarantee she thought the three males she loved would help, and you may as well have thrown her back Under the Mountain.”

Silence radiated throughout the room, and she went to find Mor. She’d seen a glimpse of their friendship, and needed some way to apologize for the three bastards, if they wouldn’t do it themselves.

The High Lady of the Night Court showed up at her door, and she couldn’t refuse her. So, she did what she’s always done - and offered her a cup of tea and some pastries she’d baked that morning. Feyre took them all with a gentle smile and thanks, but she could feel the anxiety roll from her.

“I know why you’re here,” y/n sighed, gripping the warm mug as if she might get some strength from it.

“Please,” Feyre said gently, “I need to explain.”

“You’re not responsible for them,” she assured her. Feyre’s lips pressed into a tight line, obviously she disagreed. “I know it wasn’t your fault,” she continued when she didn’t interrupt, “I hold no ill will towards you or them- ”

“That makes you a better female than me,” Feyre huffed and she let out a laugh. The High Lady smiled at her. She could see how she matched with Rhys, could sense how they would fit together. “I did lecture them.” Y/n’s returning smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sorry to open old wounds, but I … I want you to know they were wrong. How they treated you was unacceptable, and I’m ashamed you were driven from your home.”

She blinked back tears. Feyre had said the things she didn’t dare even think anymore. The feelings she’d worked through and discarded, trying to replace them with gratitude for the learning opportunity. “After what you went through, how you still came back to help all of us in the war, not expecting a thing out of it.” Feyre paused, as if trying to gather her thoughts. Somehow, she’d learned about the healing. Did Madja tell her? She let her continue, mostly because she had no idea what to say to her. “You still have a home, in the Night Court if you ever-”

She held up a hand, interrupting her words. “I appreciate the sentiment, and your kind words and understanding. But, the Night Court is not my home. It hasn’t been for years and I’m happy with my life here.” Then, it was too much - having her here, digging up things that were better left buried, even if it came from a good place. She stood, turned to the kitchen and a petty part of her flared. Quickly, she put together a small basket of all of the things she knew the three of them had loved, that she would usually make. Some pastries, preserves, and honeycomb jelly. She knew Feyre was watching her every move.

Y/n glanced at the clock. She had agreed to pick up a shift tonight. “I have to leave for work soon,” she said apologetically. Feyre rose with her. “Here,” she handed the basket. “Some gifts for friends.” Feyre’s eyes flashed as if she recalled a memory, and a mischievous look danced in them. A look that told her she’d make sure they encountered her little gift. She could picture Feyre leaving it in a common area, knowing all too well her scent would be all over it for them to see.

“Thank you for coming,” she added - and Feyre took the dismissal. There wasn’t an invitation for more, for a return, and she left gracefully, thanking her for inviting her in and listening.

The three of them showed up at her house. She should’ve slammed the door in their faces, but she knew they would wait outside until they opened again. Their High Lady was likely behind this.

Her hands moved in familiar patterns, throwing a kettle on for tea - warming up a few things she’d baked this morning. Maybe she slammed the cups down a bit harder on the counter than normal. Or sliced the bread with something else in mind. She didn’t need to look to know at least one of them, probably Cassian, had winced.

“I hope you find your mate one day,” Rhys said as they’d finally settled down. The Illyrians looked vaguely uncomfortable, chairs not designed with wings in mind. Good.

“I don’t.” she snapped back at him. The bit of leftover anger - the part she never let herself feel - started bubbling inside of her as soon as she spotted them. It was ready to boil over. “I hope I never toss someone to the side without so much as an explanation. We went through …” Her throat restricted, and tears started falling - but she refused to be ashamed of them. It had taken her this long to be comfortable showing outward emotion again, and she wouldn’t apologize for it. “Fifty years of hell and you left me. Left me by myself. If Mor wasn’t there …”

She didn’t let herself finish the sentence, thinking about what it would have been like if her friend hadn’t dragged her out of the pit of misery.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said weakly.

“We’re sorry,” Rhys added and Azriel gave a nod.

She scoffed. Too damn late for any apologies.

“We thought it would be easier for you that way.” Azriel said quietly, his expression contemplative.

“It wasn’t easy for us,” Cassian added. Rhys shifted. It was easier for him, that much she could tell. If things had been different, if they’d at least been more direct … Maybe in an alternate timeline they’d still be friends. She would still be in the City of Starlight, working under Madja and growing in her role.

“Well,” she let her expression morph into a cruel smile. “Thank you for clearing that up. You never really knew me at all,” and strode of the door, swinging it open and motioning for them to leave.

None of them moved. “We still need to talk.” Rhys almost sounded like he was pleading.

“Get out of my house.” She hissed at them, throwing as much venom as possible. They still didn’t move. Maybe the years made her forget how gods damned stubborn they are. Pigheaded males. She slammed the door shut instead. “Say your piece, and get out.”

Azriel didn’t know what to expect coming here, but it certainly wasn't pure anger and resentment. The absolute venom and distaste she looked at them with. It made him uncomfortable.

”It’s been a decade, why can’t we-” Cassian started.

”And we had centuries together. It might take a few more for me to look at you without wanting to break something.”

A lie, he could almost taste the lie spilling from her lips. Still, he didn’t verbally call her out, but when she met his gaze, he could tell she knew. Her eyes rolled and she stood again.

“Sit down,” Azriel said, the first thing he’d said to her after so many years.

She didn’t listen. He resisted the urge to send a shadow to tug you back into her seat. That, he knew, would only piss y/n off.

“Please,” he added with a touch of strain.

It had the effect he desired, and she sat back down - still watching him cautiously. Almost like something was wrong with him. He frowned. Had he never said that one word to her? Something ugly like shame blossomed in him.

He had centuries of training in patience, but he could tell the others were frustrated by how the rest of the conversation seemed to spin in circles without ever going anywhere. In another universe, he might have laughed to himself about it later. In this one, their own emotions seemed to leak into his own, infecting him.

“This is going nowhere. This went nowhere. It won’t ever go anywhere,” you finally said, words almost frenzied.

They’d worked you into that state. Guilt brushed against him. A cat hissed from somewhere.

“We should go,” Azriel said. Probably one of the first smart things said during this conversation. Their presence here had only grown to distress you further.

“Just wait,” you had a look he recognized about you - one where you were about to do something you may regret. He was too curious to stop you.

Her hand hesitated on the drawer. The room went still. It slowly slid open, and he watched you pick up a small … portrait, gently wiping away the fine layer of dust coating it. It was a shame, he thought, that he’d never be able to brush away the dust coating your relationship.

#batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar drabble #acotar imagine

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yuechihua · 2 days ago

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one hundred paper stars.

summary: There's an old story from your childhood where if you make a hundred paper stars, then you're granted a single wish. However, it's not you, but your infuriating partner in Section Six whose wish you want to come true instead.

notes: 7.4k words, author's notes, spoilers for harumasa's backstory, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, fluff

It’s during a drowsy, sunshine-drenched afternoon, a brief moment of respite where there isn’t any paperwork to file or field missions to carry out, that Yanagi appears at your desk, giving you no time to hide what you’ve been fiddling with during your break.

Though there’s no reason to feel guilty, it’s still slightly embarrassing for Yanagi to catch the rainbow strips of paper littering your desk, interspersed with fruit-flavored candy that Soukaku left earlier that morning as a present. In the center of it all, there’s a jar brimming with paper stars, the results of two weeks’ worth of progress made whenever you have a snippet of free time.

However, Yanagi doesn’t pause to acknowledge the way your hands are trapped in the middle of folding a half-finished origami star. Lips pursed in familiar frustration, she asks, “Have you seen Asaba anywhere?”

“Not since this morning, when we were doing reconnaissance in a Hollow,” you reply.

She sighs. “He’s supposed to have finished his break half an hour ago.”

“Do you need him for something?”

“I need you two to follow up on the work you did this morning. The ether readings have changed, and they wanted someone to check it out,” Yanagi says. “If you could find him and get him to come with you…”

“I get the gist. I’ll head out as soon as I find him,” you say, folding the ends of the paper expertly and tossing a newly formed red star into the jar.

“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you for cutting your break short,” she says apologetically. “Since you’re his partner, Asaba tends to listen to you a little more.”

“He barely listens to me at all,” you grumble. You pat the daggers tucked snuggly near your thighs, and Yanagi’s eyes drift to the mess on your desk.

“I was wondering where Soukaku got all those pieces of paper,” she says thoughtfully. “Did you bring them into the office?”

“Yeah. She thought the stars were candy, so I had to stop her from eating them. I taught her how to fold them, and in exchange, she gave me these.” You gesture at the hard candies littering your desk.

“It’s nice to do some crafts to relax.”

“There’s also something special about these stars. If you fold a hundred of them,” you say, “you get a wish. It was a popular story back in my elementary school. The local convenience store used to sell origami paper, and I would buy them with my allowance. I never did make it to a hundred, though.”

“Then there must be something you really want to fold a hundred now. I hope your wish comes true,” Yanagi says.

“I hope so, too,” you murmur.

A few minutes later, you’re cutting down the halls and up the stairways of your workplace, climbing until you reach the entrance to the roof. Barricade tape and warning signs block the landing, but with practiced precision, you duck under the tape without slowing and nudge open the door with your shoulder, which gives way without a fuss.

Cool wind whips at your face, and you scan the rooftop, nothing but a broad expanse of concrete and whirring, blocky machines, caged in by a metal fence. You jog down the length until you find who you’re looking for, lounging on the floor like a cat soaking up the golden afternoon sun, limbs askew and eyes closed.

Harumasa looks like he’s asleep as you approach him with silent steps. You crouch over him, your shadow cutting across his face, and he still doesn’t stir. For a few seconds, you watch him quietly. His headband flutters in the wind like a loose sliver of sunlight. His face is pale, splotches of dark ink forming under his eyes. Maybe he isn’t sleeping well.

“Admiring the view, partner?” Harumasa says without opening his eyes.

“Hardly,” you say. “I was just thinking about the best way to wake you up.”

“All you need to do is call my name and I’ll respond.”

“Right. Just like how the last few times I tried to do that, you kept pretending to be asleep until I used physical force.” You emphasize the last few words and Harumasa groans as he cracks open an eye, propping himself lazily up with his elbows.

“Come on. We’ve been working together forever at this point, and you still can’t be a little nicer to me?”

“I’m only nice to those who deserve it,” you say.

“Right, right. I bet Yanagi sent you up here.”

“How did you know?”

“You usually let me slack off otherwise,” he says easily. “It’s only when there’s something important that you bother me. Huh. If you think about it, that’s pretty nice of you. Isn’t there a word for someone who acts abrasive to hide how much they care about someone else? Ts–”

“Keep talking and I’ll tell Yanagi just where exactly you like to hide during break,” you threaten.

“Aw, don’t do that!” Harumasa gives you an exaggerated pout, and you roll your eyes. “Come here, partner.”

“Why?”

“Come on. Come closer,” he wheedles, and you reluctantly lower yourself until you’re sitting next to him, face to face, legs folded under you.

Once you do, Harumasa drops his head against your shoulder, leaning all the warm weight of his upper body against your side like he’ll fall apart without your support.

“What’s this about?” you grumble, but you don’t move away. It’s become a familiar routine at this point: he teases, you complain, but you still gravitate towards each other. Maybe it’s because you’ve been paired with Harumasa on so many missions that you’ve developed a habit of putting up with all of his mischief.

“I’m not feeling well,” he says. “Lend me your shoulder.”

“It’s a little too late to ask when you’ve already done it.”

“You know what they say. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.”

“I’m sure you know all about that,” you say dryly.

“Now. now. I’m just being pragmatic.”

You usually don’t come to the roof at all, not unless you’re looking for Harumasa. But when you do come here, the air feels refreshing and cool, the sunlight more gentle. Though you pride yourself on being efficient and responsible, the first one to file your reports and to take notes during meetings, you can understand why Harumasa likes to nap here.

It’s comfortable. Or maybe it’s Harumasa that makes the place so comfortable. It feels like your own private corner of the world, one where it’s just you and him. Not that you could ever tell him that, of course, or it’ll make him insufferable.

“Yanagi needs us to follow up on the Hollow we investigated this morning,” you say.

“Again? We just got back.”

“The ether readings have changed. They want us to investigate.”

“Hm… but I’m on break…”

“Your break was over half an hour ago.”

“You’re on break!” he protests.

“So? I’ll be reimbursed for it.”

Harumasa groans. “You’re way too serious. You need to learn to take it easy. I’m not feeling well, you know.”

“Is that so? Well, if you want to nap the day away, I can investigate by myself–”

“Wait.” Harumasa’s weight shifts off your shoulder, and now you’re face to face with him again, close enough to see the way his smile slips off his face, the intensity of his liquid gold gaze. “I’ll come with you. Don’t do it by yourself.”

“You don’t think I’m capable, Harumasa?” you try to tease, but his lazy smile doesn’t return.

“You’re capable,” he says quietly. “You’re more than capable. But I want to be there to back you up.” He’s the first to look away, and you feel cheated, even though you don’t know what you would have said in response. “So, let’s get going. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can clock out of work.”

“Of course,” you say, a smidge too quickly. “I’ll need to file reports for Yanagi when we’re done.”

At least the awkwardness of the moment on the rooftop blows over quickly as you prepare for departure. Working with Harumasa feels like being a part of a well-oiled machine, every movement in efficient, coordinated sync, the consequence of a well-established partnership. You fall into a routine as familiar as meetings or paperwork as you prepare to enter the Hollow: checking your weapons, gathering your supplies, escorting your Bangboo guide, and then striding into the Hollow at the designated entry point.

Within the Hollow, you and Harumasa alternate who takes the lead as you follow your Bangboo, slipping through half-hidden pathways and narrow crevices, all the while avoiding lurking Ethereals. There’s little need for words with Harumasa when all you need to do is read the tension of his body, like a bow pulled taut, and simply follow what it tells you. You have your own private language of body gestures, flicks of the hand or turns of the head, refined over years.

It’s not as if you always worked this well together, of course. The first time you were paired together with Harumasa on a mission, both of you were fresh recruits to Section Six. You couldn’t stop arguing with him. His lax manner and sloppy dress infuriated you, but what was worse was how he always delivered results with minimal effort when you never did anything less than your best. In turn, he made fun of you for being a stick-in-the-mud and being unable to relax.

“You’re going to go grey if you keep stressing yourself,” he would tease, looking much too pleased with himself, as if he enjoyed your little spats.

Harumasa touches your elbow lightly, and you’re drawn from your thoughts. “Did something happen?” you murmur. The Hollow stretches before you, twisted metal and broken concrete buildings stitched together with corruption that shimmers like an oil spill, but there’s no sign of anything unusual.

“Nope. I’m just bored,” he says. “We’re not any closer to finding the disturbance Yanagi told us about. We might have to head back soon if we still don’t find anything usual.”

“We haven’t even gone that deep in the Hollow yet,” you say. “We should at least cover all our bases. What, scared of doing overtime?”

“Yes,” he says seriously. “Maybe a workaholic like you wouldn’t get it, but overtime is the public enemy of every government employee out there. So, what were you thinking about?”

“About… the past,” you say, relenting. “And how we used to fight all the time.”

“Oh? Thinking about me?”

“Only about how annoying you used to be.”

“Rude. Is this how you talk about your precious partner?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s too late to find someone else. You’re stuck with me,” Harumasa says cheerfully.

“I never said I would find another partner. You’re the only one I want.” You try to keep your voice casual, just like Harumasa, but something honest creeps in, something a little raw and unfiltered, like light through an unsealed crack.

And maybe he senses it, too, your inability to play the blithe role as well as he does, because he doesn’t jump in right away with another joke. The silence lingers, throwing the rhythm of your banter off-balance.

“The only one, huh…” From the way his hair shades his eyes, you can’t make out his expression or read his tone.

“Harumasa,” you begin, but a sudden beep cuts off your words. You glance at each other, all awkwardness vanishing as Harumasa glances at a device in one of his pockets.

Your Bangboo guide jerks to a sudden stop. This is the end of its automated guidance, as far as its data will take you. The two of you have reached the top floor of what must have once been a tower, a spiderweb of uneven, rusted metal and crumbling walls exposed to the low, grey sky. The floor slopes down to a sharp drop, leading to nothing but open air.

“Ether spike,” Harumasa says. His hand is already drifting to his bow. “But I don’t see anything. Where…”

It happens in a split second. Your body reacts before your mind can, years of training ingraining in you the necessary reflex to spring back as an Ethereal drops down from above, crashing like a meteor where you and Harumasa once stood.

Your daggers are already in hand, and you leap forward as an arrow flies from above, distracting the creature long enough for you to slash along one of its appendages. It roars, and you’re already darting behind it, Harumasa running along its other side.

It’s an Ethereal like none you’ve seen before. A Thanatos? A Duhallan? No, none of the existing classifications match. It’s eerily beautiful, its core pulsing with multi-colored light, corrupted growth framing it like a star, delicate, vine-like appendages darting out momentarily to propel the Ethereal away from your reach. This must be the source of the disturbance Yanagi told you about.

Harumasa calls your name, and on instinct, you fall back as he lunges forward with a dizzying series of slashes with his blades. You’ve faced worse than an unclassified Ethereal of unknown strength. Even if neither of you have expected to engage an enemy, that doesn’t mean you aren’t prepared to.

The battle continues back and forth, a waltz of sharp steel and split-second communication between you and Harumasa as you implement all the maneuvers you learned in training. It seems like there’s no end in sight, but you’re tiring the Ethereal, slowly but surely. It’s only a matter of time before you find an opening to destroy its core.

And then, Harumasa stumbles. It’s only a brief moment, his body dipping as something like a cough shudders through him before he steadies, but it’s enough time for the Ethereal to lash out several appendages like a bolt of lightning. You’re helpless to do anything but watch as Harumasa flies backwards, his body bent like a doll discarded by a careless child.

Before you can think, you’re running, propelled by some instinct deeper than habit at the sight of your partner on the ground, throwing your daggers with wild precision as the Ethereal howls like a wounded animal. There’s not enough time to do anything except to throw your body in front of Harumasa before the Ethereal lashes out again in a brutal, sweeping arc.

Your body explodes with pain. Then, you’re weightless. The Ethereal has sent you flying, and briefly, it’s like you’re back on the roof, Harumasa leaning against your shoulder, the wind in your face, before you’re tumbling over the edge of the tower.

In the field of your vision, something gold flashes. Harumasa’s headband. It’s all you can see, the afterimage of it burned into your eyes like the sun as everything goes dark.

—

From your earliest memories as a child, you had always been lonely. Maybe that’s why you were drawn to things that reminded you of the sun, searching for anything to give you stability or warmth.

Your story wasn’t particularly unique: your parents were killed in an accident in a Hollow. You were shunted from relative to relative who never knew what to do with you. You clung to academics and books to prove yourself because you had nothing else.

You had a decently high Ether aptitude, so when you got the opportunity to join an elite academy on a scholarship, why wouldn’t you take away your chance to escape away from relatives who never cared for you? At the time, you had been living with one of your mother’s older brothers–what was his name? You’d long since forgotten, and he hadn’t bothered to keep in contact once you left.

Either way, you graduated with honors and a flawless academic record. When Miyabi selected you to join Section Six, despite your lack of experience, you were excited.

“I believe you’ll deliver results,” Miyabi told you simply, that very first day. “That’s why I chose you.”

A flush of pride made your face glow. “I won’t disappoint you!”

It was so nice to be relied on. To find a place that needed you, where you were valued. You were tied to Section Six through more pragmatic things than fragile family ties that easily dissolved.

You did your best, but it was hard when you weren’t the only new member–Asaba Harumasa was assigned to Section Six at the same time as you. From the very start, your work ethics, lifestyles, and attitudes couldn’t be more different.

“Could you try to finish your paperwork on time? When you don’t, it slows the entire process down,” you would tell Harumasa.

“It gets done, though. Does it really matter when I do it?” he would reply.

Frustratingly enough, even then, the two of you did so well on missions together that you were always assigned to be each other’s partner. Maybe his work on the field earned him a little respect in your eyes; it was the one thing you couldn’t really criticize him on. But at the same time, it was infuriating that you had to put so much time and effort into delivering flawless results, and Harumasa always skated by with minimal effort.

One particular fall, the two of you were assigned to a mission to investigate high-level Ethereals in a local Hollow. Soon enough, you and Harumasa were surrounded. As skilled as you were, parrying several different Ethereals meant one could easily slip into your blind spot and strike. Too late, you only noticed when it was already moving, and you could only grit your teeth, bracing for impact–until its limbs met a flash of steel. Harumasa had leapt in front of you, pushing the Ethereal back and giving you enough time to strike its core.

“Harumasa–” you began to say.

“On your left!”

And then you were flung into the heat of battle, with no time to process what just happened until the threats were neutralized.

It was only then you saw the gash running along Harumasa’s arm, blood soaking into his rolled up sleeves. Without a word, you took out your medical kit, and started applying disinfectant. Harumasa didn’t even wince as you dabbed away the blood with cotton balls. You knew, from the location alone, he had got it while protecting you.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, wrapping bandages around the wound. “This is my fault.”

“What are you talking about? I did this on my own.”

“But if I hadn’t been so careless–”

“You’re my partner. I’ll always have your back,” Harumasa said. His tone was as blithe as always, but there was a strange, tenderness underlying it.

His face was coated in dust and drying blood from battle, and yet, his eyes were still a startlingly pure gold, vibrant and warm. When he looked at you, it was like he was seeing you, all of you, warming you like the sun. He didn’t avoid your gaze or look past you, like your relatives had.

After that, you settled into Section Six, not because you were needed, but because you were wanted. Your arguments with Harumasa melted into something softer, something more playful. He was your partner, and you no longer grumbled about taking the same missions as him.

One day, when you were sent to fetch Harumasa for some mission or meeting (a favorite errand of everyone’s to send you on because you had developed an uncanny sense of knowing where he liked to hide), you found him hunched him over in an empty office, knuckles white against a table as he coughed wetly, the force of it shuddering through his entire body.

Harumasa, who had always looked for any excuse to slack off, who slept on the job, who acted like nothing could bother him, looked more vulnerable than you had seen before.

You knew he had a medical condition, but he never talked about it. Even when he did, he always made it seem so trivial. A minor inconvenience, and nothing more.

“You need to go to the infirmary,” you said, rushing over. “Or the doctor. I’ll call someone right now. I’ll–”

“Don’t,” Harumasa rasped. He grabbed your arm with more desperate force than you expected. “It’s fine.”

“You’re–”

“It’ll pass. Just let me… lean on you for a little.” Half-crouched on the ground, he collapsed his weight against you, and you both sank to the floor. You wrapped your arms around him and he leaned his head against your collarbone. You rubbed circles along his back, a meager offering to soothe him until the coughing subsided.

Harumasa’s breathing was shallow, and you wondered if he could hear the racing of your heart, the fear making it pound uncontrollably. His illness was more serious than he had ever let on.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

“I’m fine. It’s just all the pollen and dust, you know,” he said. There’s that familiar carefree, teasing edge to his tone, but it’s strained by his recent coughing.

“You don’t have to joke with me. I’m your partner. If there’s something I can do for you, you can let me know.”

There’s a moment of silence before Harumasa sighed, a soft, resigned sound. “I just don’t want the others to know.”

“I won’t tell them,” you promised.

He took a few more shallow breaths before speaking, voice cheerful, deceptively light and hollow, like a bird’s bone. “I have Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome. It manifests primarily in my heart and lungs, but in exchange, I have high Ether aptitude. It’s the reason my parents… left me, a long time ago. A doctor took me in, but… Well. I was recruited to an academy, graduated, and ended up here. But you know about that part.”

You’ve known Harumasa long enough by now to know that he was only giving you carefully curated bits and pieces of his past. There was something he wasn’t not telling you, but that didn’t change the fact he had decided to place his trust in you, regardless.

You understood what it was like to be left behind, to have nothing but yourself to cling to. Sympathy and pity weren’t what he wanted. No generic condolence could change his past or his fate.

Instead, you drew him closer to you. Harumasa let out a small, strangled gasp as you sheltered him in your arms. “I’ll be here for you, so thank you for trusting me.”

Sometimes, words were cheap. The only response you needed was Harumasa’s arms wrapping around you in return, a tentative promise.

It’s only a few weeks after that, when you were passing by a convenience store on the way home from work, that you saw the origami paper strips lining the shelves at a discounted price and remembered the elementary school pastimes of your classmates.

As a child, you had wanted to make a hundred stars so you could make a wish for your parents to come back. But now, there was something else you wanted: not to make someone come back, but to make someone stay with you.

—

Your body aches. It’s all you’re aware of at first, a throbbing pain, spreading through your body in waves.

Your vision is blurry, the Hollow wavering in front of you like smeared paint, black protrusions and metal platforms blending together, a nightmarish portrait.

You drag your arm in front of your face, flex your fingers slowly until the world stops spinning.

You’re alive. Against all odds, you’re alive, but you have no idea where you are or how much time has passed. You’d probably fallen into a distortion.

With any luck, Harumasa has already left and called for back-up. You could survive in a Hollow longer than most ordinary people could, but you didn’t want to test your limits. For now, you would have to do your best to survive. With agonizingly slow movements, like you’re dragging your body through water, you check your daggers and equipment, and survey the area around you. It’s full of twisted metal structures corrupted with black growth, platforms and stairs jutting from rocky walls, like a building that’s been swallowed by a cliff, with no particularly distinguishing feature.

It then takes even longer to convince your legs to support your weight, and to take a few steps without leaning against the wall.

Something clatters in the distance, heavy limbs dragging on the floor. Ethereals. This part of the Hollow is infested with them, a mutated sea of green and pearlescent black cores, though you’re temporarily sheltered in the area where you fell. As long as you avoid them, you should be fine; you’re no longer in any condition for prolonged combat.

All you can do is slowly drag yourself around, daggers at the ready, sneaking past any Ethereal you see. It’s agonizing work to be so careful, especially when you’re occasionally hit by waves of dizziness and your injuries make your reflexes slow.

Is Harumasa safe? Did he escape? Did he destroy the Ethereal? Or did something worse happen to him? There’s no point thinking like this and driving yourself insane, but your thoughts scatter like a flight of migrating birds, and no matter where they go, they always end up drifting in Harumasa’s direction.

Maybe you can blame Harumasa for distracting you when an Ethereal catches sight of you before you can fully conceal yourself. You can do nothing but mumble curses under your breath as more Ethereals are drawn to the noise and you’re forced to draw your weapon.

It’s harder to fight without Harumasa to cover your back. You’ve gotten too used to having him at your back. Several times, you open your mouth to call his name, but he’s not there to answer. It’s just you, clumsily dodging blows and aiming weak strikes at Ethereals you normally would have been able to dispatch with ease.

You might die here. The thought comes, unbidden. You’re weakened, surrounded, when an Ethereal looms over you. You twist your body around trying to dodge, but your body refuses to move as fast as you need it to as the Ethereal prepares to strike–only to still, stagger a few steps, and then collapse onto the ground, a spray of arrows protruding from its back.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you whip your head up in the direction the arrows came from. It can’t be, but it is. It’s him. Your partner, his mouth set in a grim, furious line as he draws his bow back. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look so angry.

In what feels like no time at all, the remaining Ethereals fall and your body feels light as you fight with renewed energy. Hardly any of them could get near you before Harumasa has shot them down with enough force that their bodies slam into the floor with a shattering crack. As soon as the last threat is neutralized, you’re running to Harumasa, but he’s faster than you.

“Harumasa—” Your words are muffled as Harumasa pulls you into a hug. His fingers dig into your shoulders, his grip tight. There’s something possessive and desperate about his touch, as if he might never hold you again and he has to memorize the shape of your body while he still has the chance.

His skin gleams with sweat, his white shirt sticking to his torso. Has he been running around this whole time, looking for you, without resting? You press your ear to his chest, where his heart rabbits in his chest in a frightened run.

“I thought you died,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“I…”

“I thought I lost you. And I couldn’t stop until I found your body, and I would have to tell the others that you… because of me, you…”

“Harumasa, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear that.”

You tentatively bring your arms around him, and a shudder wracks through his body at your touch. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Then don’t do something so reckless again! If you die… If you die, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…”

“I can’t promise that. You’re my partner. I told you I would have your back. If I see you in trouble, I can’t just run away.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I want you to live,” you murmur. “I want you to live, no matter what.”

“Then you have to live with me.” Harumasa pulls back abruptly, bringing his hands to your cheeks, and pinching.

You attempt to reply, but you can only make a garbled noise of affirmation. It’s hard to talk when Harumasa is pulling your cheeks like taffy, but maybe he isn’t ready to hear your response.

You place your hands over his, and Harumasa stills, your touch a soothing balm. He lets out a breath. “Let’s get out of here. You need to get your injuries looked at.”

For the rest of the time until you leave the Hollow, Harumasa clings persistently to your side, refusing to move a step unless you have as well. You would call his pace leisurely if not for the tense way he holds his body, poised for threats from any direction. You’re half-tempted to ask if he would feel more at ease holding your hand, but you have a feeling he would never let you go again if you did.

Harumasa doesn’t relax even when you’re back at your workplace, where he escorts you directly to the infirmary and paces outside the entire time, causing the nurse’s eyebrows to crease in irritation at the sound of his rapid footsteps.

“I’m fine,” you announce the second you step out of the infirmary. “Okay? The nurse said I had no major injuries, though I’m not supposed to be on the field for a week. And I have to do a few more check-ins.”

It’s only at your words that Harumasa finally relaxes. “This is probably the first sick day you’re going to take,” Harumasa says, but his teasing doesn’t quite match his eyes, which keep roaming your body for stray injuries which the nurse might have missed.

In the office, you’re immediately assailed by Yanagi, Miyabi, and Soukaku, who fuss over your bruises, the bandages peeking under your clothes, and the patches on your face.

“I’m glad you two are okay! I was so worried when I heard what happened. I know you’re capable, but you shouldn’t be so reckless,” Yanagi scolds lightly.

“Take the time to rest and recover completely,” Miyabi says. “Section Six needs you, and we can’t function well if you’re not around.”

“Take these snacks! They’re tasty, and they’ll help you feel better!” Soukaku says earnestly, shoving an armful of packaged chips at you.

It’s been a long time since anyone has worried over you like this. It’s a little embarrassing how everyone’s attention is focused solely on you, and you can’t keep a small smile from creeping onto your face. “Everyone… I promise I’m fine! You don’t have to fuss over me like this.”

“Don’t forget to go back for your checkup,” Yanagi interjects. “All right? I don’t want to see you on the field until you’re cleared. And you, Harumasa! You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“Yanagi is right,” Miyabi says. “Maybe you should get a check-up as well.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Harumasa says, holding his hands out placatingly. “My injuries aren’t as bad as theirs. In fact, I’ll be a good partner and take care of them, promise.”

“That’s a first,” you interject, “Since when you were so excited about doing work?”

“I’m only excited when you’re involved,” he says, and you don’t know what to say to that.

The rest of the day passes by pleasantly once Section Six is satisfied that you’re doing well, though they keep making excuses to stop by your desk and leave you drinks from the vending machine or little treats. You fill your time with paperwork and organizing files, and when those are done, crafting paper stars at your desk.

“What are you gonna wish for when you have a hundred stars?” Soukaku says, sprawling across your desk and picking up a strip of paper to fold with clumsy, childish joy.

“I’m actually not going to wish for anything. I’m going to give my wish to someone else.”

“What? You can do that? Then I wanna give wishes to you and Nagi and Miyabi and Harumasa!”

“Thank you, Soukaku.”

“Who’re you going to give your wish to?” Soukaku asks as you hand her more origami paper strips.

“Hm…” You survey the star you’ve just finished folding. “It’s for someone important. It’s a little embarrassing to talk about it out loud, though.”

“Why? I think whoever it is will be happy that you’re thinking about them!”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah!” Soukaku says. “I would be happy if you gave me a wish!”

“Then should I make you a hundred paper stars, Soukaku?”

“Really? Yay!”

By the end of the work shift, you’ve finally filled your glass jar with the necessary number of stars. You should feel happy, but what you didn’t tell Soukaku is that you wonder if it’s too presumptuous to give this to Harumasa. After all, you still remember what it’s like to be rejected by people who were supposed to love you and take care of you.

You cradle the jar in your hands, the product of all your meticulous work over the past two weeks. It’s heavy with the weight of your feelings and your ridiculous wish.

“Hey, partner.” Harumasa’s sudden voice makes you stiffen and whirl around, keeping the jar hidden behind your back.

“Harumasa.” You take a breath. There’s no point in being embarrassed. “Do you have time right now?”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “What a coincidence. I was just about to ask you that, too.”

“I assume we’re both free, then. Come over to my place,” you tell him bluntly.

“Your place?”

“Yes.”

Harumasa tilts his head like an inquisitive bird, considering. “Sure, but I didn’t realize you were that excited to see me after work.”

“Oh, don’t get full of yourself.”

The two of you are back to your usual banter, but it’s devoid of its usual lightness. The events from the Hollow still linger over you, and Harumasa sucks in a breath before giving a casual smile. You respond with a roll of your eyes, but it feels wooden, everything unsaid thickening the air like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm.

The journey back to your apartment is peaceful. You take the train, watching the familiar strips of buildings and city lights streaking past, soft smudges against the glowing sun, sinking like a pat of butter in a red, syrupy sky.

You live in a relatively nice building, the salary from your job affording you a lobby as well as a doorman and a fast elevator. At your apartment door, you fumble with your keys, fingers heavy and clumsy as you’re aware of Harumasa’s presence behind you, waiting.

The door clicks open and you step into your apartment, a one bedroom, one bathroom affair with sturdy, comfortable furniture, books and knick-knacks lining the shelves of the joint living room and kitchen. More books are stacked precariously on the single table you use for both work and meals, situated in the center.

You slip off your shoes and into your house slippers, offering a pair to Harumasa, who after putting them on promptly walks over to one of the shelves in the living room and pokes at a little Bangboo statue. There’s a whole forest of them lining the shelf, all in different outfits and poses.

“I didn’t realize you were such a fan. Hey, do you get the public security ones to help you cross the street?”

“Don’t touch it. It’s a collectible and I’m trying to get the last one in the series,” you say crisply. “And of course I do. It makes the ones patrolling the streets happy to help.”

“Wait, really?”

“They’re adorable, Harumasa. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“It’s not a bad thing! I just think you have a surprisingly cute side, that’s all.”

“Thanks,” you say, trying to keep your face schooled in a neutral expression, before gesturing to the table in the living room. “Take a seat. I’ll make some tea.”

You brew a pot of bitter green tea, taking out a plate of crumbly packaged cookies to snack on. They’re the least sweet snack you have in the house which Harumasa would be happy to eat.

For a few minutes, there’s only the clink of your cups and the crunch of cookies, a pleasant way to spend your time after work. Neither of you talk, the food giving you an excuse not to. It’s ridiculous how such a small gift could make you feel so nervous. You need to do it now. Otherwise, what would the point be of inviting him over?

You run your finger along the rim of your teacup, pressing hard enough to feel the edge of smooth porcelain dig into skin. “There’s something I want to give to you.”

“A present? For me?”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing fancy,” you say, before standing to retrieve the jar of stars, which you had shoved into your work bag.

You hold it behind your back until you’re in front of Harumasa, at which point you place the jar on the table and slide it over to him.

A hundred stars for one wish. You explain the story to him as Harumasa cups his hands around the jar, peering intently as if he could see the hours you spent painstakingly crafting each individual star.

“I know it’s a little silly,” you say quietly. “But I want whatever you wish for to come true, no matter what.”

Harumasa’s eyes when he looks at you are just like stars, warm, bright gold, that you would trust to guide you no matter what path you tread.

“I want you to be happy,” you say, the words falling from your mouth like a wish of your own.

“Happy, huh?” Harumasa closes his eyes briefly, stars winking out of existence.

“I’m sorry if that’s presumptuous. You don’t have take this gift if you don’t want–”

“Whoa! This is mine now. You can’t have it back now that you’ve given it to me. It’s just… there are some things about my illness I haven’t told you.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you say.

“I want to tell you, though. People with Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome don’t typically live long lives. The illness is terminal. The oldest-recorded person lived only to be 26.” Harumasa says it matter-of-factly, the numbers rolling out of him like he’s simply reciting information from a medical brochure. “In late stages, the body breaks down. And if someone with Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome is in a Hollow when their body breaks down, then they’ll turn into an Ethereal.”

This is the knowledge Harumasa has been carrying with him all this time and hiding from everyone in Section Six. It must have weighed him down like stones, knowing that if things take a turn for the worse in a mission within the Hollow, he’ll become one of the monsters you and Section Six have to put down. How long has he carried this by himself?

No matter how you try to hide your feelings, Harumasa knows how to read you just as much as you know how to read him, because he raises a hand and lazily waves it through the air. “Don’t look so worried. It doesn’t bother me that much.”

“I’m your partner. Of course I’m going to be worried about you,” you say quietly. “I told you, didn’t I? I want you to be happy.”

Harumasa gazes down at the table, away from you and the jar of stars in front of him. “You are, huh? Can I trust you with something else, then?”

“What is it?”

“If anything happens to me,” he says, “and I turn into an Ethereal, you have to promise that you’ll kill me.”

There’s no other answer for you, not when he looks at you like that. “I promise. I won’t let anyone else do it.”

“Then I’m all yours, partner.”

“But…” You reach for Harumasa’s hand across the table, slowly and reverentially sliding your fingers under his, feeling the press of each callous on his slender fingers. These beautiful hands, which you have saved and which have saved you again and again. “I gave you a wish, you know? So you can have anything you want.”

“Eh? Didn’t I tell you what I wanted?”

“It doesn’t count,” you persist. “If it helps, I’ll tell you what I want.”

“All right, what is it?”

“I want you to live forever.”

“That’s way too long,” Harumasa protests.

“Then live for a hundred years at the very least,” you say. “I wanted you to be happy for a long, long time. I made you a hundred stars, so each star is worth one year of happiness.”

It’s ridiculous, you know. It’s not pragmatic at all. And maybe it’s cruel, too, to ask Harumasa something like this. But if he’s going to be selfish, then you’re going to be just as selfish.

“A hundred years? Then you need to live that long, too.” Harumasa shifts his hand and hooks your pinky lightly with his own. “It’s not fair if I have to live that long without you. That’s going to be my wish.”

“Then I’ll make it come true,” you say. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re partners. Where you go, I’ll go.”

In the window across from you, ink-blue shadows flood the world. The sun had set while the two of you were talking, and the city lights wink like scattered gemstones across dark velvet.

“If you talk like that, then I’m not going to want to leave,” he says quietly. “You make me want to act selfishly.”

“Then act selfishly. I’ll forgive you.”

He lets out a sigh, squeezing your pinky. “You’re not fair at all.”

“Good,” you say archly. “Stay the night, Harumasa.”

Harumasa stills at your words, and you can feel the faint tremor of his hand. “I have nightmares. It’s not going to be a good time for you.”

“That’s all right,” you say. “I’ll take care of you.”

It’s easy having Harumasa in your apartment, where he fits seamlessly into your normal routine, the same way he does at work. You lend him towels, and baggy pajamas, and then the two of you take turns using the bathroom. You order cheap takeout from a local restaurant, which you eat in front of the glow of your television, watching the news. As you wash up the dishes, Harumasa perches on the counter, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes or smile.

Harumasa, framed in the soft glow of kitchen lights like a halo behind him, hair askew, wrinkling his borrowed clothes, makes your heart ache. It would be nice to have him around like this, all the time. You’ve forgotten the warmth of having someone in your home until now.

You should bring out the futon you keep for guests, but you don’t mention it, and Harumasa doesn’t ask. So he follows you to your bedroom, knees bumping against the side of the metal frame as you pull out an extra pillow for him.

Harumasa dutifully takes out his rows of medicine, orange bottles lined up your nightstand, brightly colored pills falling down his throat with each sip of water from the glass you’ve brought him. He folds his golden headband neatly next to the bottles, and finally places the jar of stars to stand guard over everything. It makes you feel ticklish that he wants to keep your gift so close.

Your bed is too small for two people, but neither of you complain as your legs tangle together, Harumasa resting his forehead against yours. In the dark, you grope for his hand, entangling your fingers with his, where they belong.

“Good night, partner,” he whispers. He’s so close his breath tickles your face.

“Good night.”

“It’s too late to turn back now,” he murmurs, but you can’t tell if he’s saying it to you or himself.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” you say, tracing nonsensical letters on his back with the fingertips of your free hand, a message he can’t read.

“I know. I guess we’re stuck together.”

“I told you. We’re partners. I’m yours forever,” you say.

Harumasa squeezes your hand. “And I’m yours, so let’s take good care of each other.”

If you strain your head, you can see a faint strip of moonlight from your parted curtains illuminating your nightstand where a hundred paper stars glow. Like a promise, a wish, of a hundred years of happiness.

#liya.writes #zenless zone zero #asaba harumasa #zenless zone zero x reader #asaba harumasa x reader #harumasa x reader #harumasa #x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You sit at your desk, shaken as the sound of the mug shattering repeats in your head. You can smell the dark roast as you stare fuzzily at your monitor. You hadn’t even taken the coffee you brewed. You can see it in your mind, forgotten on the counter, lonely, going cold.

You have no thirst for the maple shortbread roast. You rub your fingers together, the feeling of the shards, the incessant jitter that won’t leave you. You tried to play it cool but now you’re really scared.

You open your Teams and type out a message to your manager. You’re spending half a sick day and going home. Her curt response betrays her agitation. She’s not impressed but you don’t care. Work isn’t as important as taking care of yourself.

You shut down and pack up your bag. You slide your chair under your desk and keep your head down as you head for the stairs. You avoid the elevators to evade any notice. It feels like admitting defeat but you’re not sure there’s any victory to be had with that man.

As you exit the building, the weight lifts from your chest and the slouch eases in your shoulders. Maybe you can ask to change desks. That would be a start. You can get a bigger thermos and bring lots of coffee so you never need to venture into the breakroom. This could work.

Oh boy. You think you’re going to have to quit. You really don’t want to, you feel like you’ve barely begun. And he isn’t the only person there, it isn’t his company, so why should you have to run away?

Dana can be… decent and there’s that woman with the vintage blouse you met in the breakroom. Somehow, you never managed to spill her coveted hot chocolates in your carelessness. It’s as if the universe put you on the path of this angry man, but why?

Screw the universe. It can’t tell you how to live. You’ve never really worried about fitting into its machinations and you won’t start now.

You don’t want to go home right away. You veer around and head down to the cafe a few blocks down. It’s a bit of a trek but you’ve heard good things. You go inside and wait your turn, ordering an iced fruity tea and a lemon scone.

As you turn to go, you see that woman through the window. The one from the office in her thrifted clothes. You love her style. A braid red belt with brown tweed pants and a bell sleeved button up. She doesn’t see you wave as she turns away and carries on, earbuds tucked into her ears.

You claim a table by the window and as you unwrap your scone, a man marches by, raising your hackles as you see the determination in his step. He heads in the same direction as that woman, intent and unbothered by his surroundings. You’ve seen him too, he works in one of the fancy offices.

You pick at the scone and nibble on the corner before sliding it away again. You’re still addled by your breakroom run-in. You thought this would be a distraction. Or hoped it would.

You leave, unsatisfied. Home it is. Alone, but safe.

You take the bus halfway then walk a few blocks to your apartment. As you get inside, you’re restless. You do your best to settle in.

Gaming doesn’t calm you down, even as you go around to say hello to your villagers. You shut that off and grab your half-done crochet project but the hippo is too much of a challenge to ease your nerves. So you get up and run yourself a hot bath.

You undress with the door open. You bask in your newfound solace. It took you a while to get out of your parents’ place but now you’re on your own, you don’t have to worry.

You slip into the water with a sigh. A playlist drones from your phone on the counter and you mix in scented epsom salts. You start to feel a bit bed as you recline and close your eyes. You stay like that until the water is lukewarm.

You get out and pull on your fluff rope with the pink cheetah print. You feel renewed and ready to relax. Just don’t think about the inevitable. Tomorrow you’ll have to be back in office.

You shuffle around you apartment lazily and turn on the television. You curl up in the corner of the couch as Sailor Moon transforms in the intro sequence. The music fills your small space. You’re comforted by the childhood favourite.

You ease into the cushions and feel yourself starting to doze. You’d still be at work if you didn’t take the half-day. You shouldn’t be falling asleep already but you can’t resist the nap.

You close your eyes and something scratches down ear canal. Some sort of friction. You don’t pay it much mind. There’s always noise from the hallway or the street. But it happens again and again, then you feel something.

You sit up in fright and turn to the figure sat next to you. You’re so stunned, you can’t find your voice to scream. You take a deep breath and Curtis raises his index fingers.

“If you scream, I’m going to have be bad,” he warns. “So let’s not do that.”

“How’d you get in here?”

He tilts his head as he watches the television. You peek over. You like this episode too—but that’s not the point!

“Curtis--”

He hushes you and sits back. “You don’t make it hard to follow you. You’re so oblivious, you have no clue what’s going on right in front of your face.”

“I...”

He shushes you again and looks at you. “You’re going to get real hurt one of these days.” He crosses his arms and puts his head straight again. “It’s up to you. Is today that day?”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #series #drabble #sunshine lollipops and rainbows #snowpiercer #au

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aviiarie · 15 days ago

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“𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊!” — feat. kaveh & reader !

synopsis. kaveh is not having a great week. luckily, he has a best friend to distract him.

✦ contents. platonic! they are friends! best friends! modern au (they're still in university though.) some sumeru character cameos. gn!reader. fluff. 3.1k words.

✦ notes. this is my secret santa gift for.... @tragedy-of-commons! merry christmas gwen, i hope you enjoy!!! i did my best to make this as silly and fun as possible :"))

“Wow... you look even worse than I left you.”

Kaveh groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. The desk was cold under his forehead, a sweet relief from the headache pounding behind his eyes. Maybe he could lay there a little while longer, languishing in his misery, and you would lose interest and leave him. Maybe...

“Hey! Don't fall asleep on me!”

Alas, such mercy would never find him. If your voice—far too loud for a library, he would say—wasn't already enough to disturb his brooding, then the rolled up paper in your hands definitely did the job.

“Ouch,” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “Leave me 'lone...”

“Nope, not a chance.” You slip into the seat directly across him, your chin resting on the palm of your hand. “So, how much progress has been made?”

“I'm at about—” Kaveh sat up wearily, sifting through his scattered papers. “—21%.”

“Weren't you at 30% an hour ago?” You blinked.

“Yes.”

“Oh, Kaveh—”

“I'm fine, I just need... some time.” Kaveh gritted out, scanning the dozens of failed designs and hastily written notes. “And... and some inspiration. And maybe some coffee too.”

“And some sleep?”

“Are you kidding?” He scoffed, as he gathered the papers into a neat pile. “I can't sleep now. I need to get this project done, or else I'm failing this class. I can't afford a fail right now, this is making up 50% of my grade, and I only scored an 85 on the written exam, and my draft is due in a week and—”

A smack in the middle of his forehead snapped him out of his rambling. Kaveh reeled back, nursing the faint sting, as you re-rolled the paper in your hand.

“What was that for!” He cried.

“You can't keep wallowing, you're never going to get anything done! It's about time you took a break.” Carefully, you unroll the paper you were holding, to reveal a colourful poster. “And I know exactly what we can do!”

Kaveh squints at the flyer. It looked to be hand-drawn and photocopied, depicting a bustling market with smiling visitors holding mouth-watering food and bags stuffed with souvenirs. Across the top, the text read: Come visit Sumeru's Fair!

“A fair...” Kaveh murmured, reading the fine text. “This says it's only open the last week of December.”

You paused, shooting him a suspicious look. “Kaveh, do you know what day it is?”

“Uh... December... something?” He guessed.

“Well—Well, yeah.” You huffed, snatching the poster back to wave in his face. “The point is, you need some time to clear your head, and I don't want to go alone. So...?”

-----

By some miracle, your persuasion (and Kaveh's weak will towards anything you try to convince him to do) is effective enough to leave his project behind. The gates are swarming with people when you arrive, a few familiar faces sticking through the crowd, along with dozens of families and couples enjoying the festivities.

“Two tickets, please!” You grinned, handing over some money to the salesperson before Kaveh could even offer to pay for his own. The tired-looking employee hands over the tickets, and you grab Kaveh's hand to drag him towards the entrance. “Thank you!”

As soon as you step through, there is a rainbow of colours filling his vision. Brightly coloured stalls are set up with carnival games, food, and other attractions on either side, forming an aisle. Behind them, he could see a Ferris Wheel peeking out over the tents, as well as some other rides he couldn't quite make out.

“What should we do first?” You asked excitedly, scanning your surroundings.

“Wasn't this your idea?” Kaveh raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn't I be asking you that?”

“Ever heard of living in the moment?” You chided, looping your arm through his to lead him forward. “Do you have money?”

Kaveh rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be pulled along. “Do you think I—”

“No, you're broke, I don't know why I asked. Okay, I have some money. Enough for a few rides and some food, at least.” You paused to take a breath, glancing over to a stall on your left. “Woah, look at that!”

Kaveh followed your gaze, to a small stand set up with a simple throwing game. There were a few old cans stacked up, and a grinning attendant looking back at the two of them with a beanbag in his hand. That wasn't what caught your attention though. No, your eyes were firmly fixed on the stuffed animal hanging at the back of the stall, dangling just out of reach like Tantalus' fruit.

“It's a peacock!” You gasped, hand reaching out as if to try and touch the plush feathers sewn into its tail. For a carnival prize, it was remarkably well-made, and utterly adorable; there was no wonder you looked entranced by it.

“Something you like?” The attendant crooned. He tossed the beanbag from hand to hand, casually throwing it in the air and catching it again. “You get three tries, knock all six cans over and pick whatever prize you want.”

Kaveh squinted at the cans. It looked easy, deceptively easy. The beanbag was soft, but appeared to be sturdy enough to knock the cans down in one go, and yet none of the prizes had been won yet. The entire game seemed fishy, but the prospect of the peacock plushie in your hands was enough to distract you. Before he could even voice his skepticism, you had bought three tries.

“Here you go,” The man behind the booth tossed you three beanbags and stepped out of the way as you lined up your throw. The first hit one of the cans squarely in the middle, but bounced right off.

“Argh!” You gritted your teeth and aimed again, as Kaveh's frown deepened.

The second throw was heavier, and hit one of the middle cans, dislodging the structure but failing to knock it down.

“Last go! Good luck.” The man laughed brightly, and you scowled. You threw the beanbag one last time, knocking the can at the very top over with the sheer force of your throw. “Nicely done! Let me get your prize.”

Your eyes lit up in anticipation, before he handed you a dusty pack of cards, the flimsy kind you would find in a discount store. “Oh... is that it?”

“Try knocking them all over, if you want something better.” He chuckled. “Unless you wanted to try again...?”

You thought about it for a moment, considering the obvious baiting versus how badly you wanted that prize. You nodded, and Kaveh sighed.

This time though, he paid attention.

The way that the cans moved when you hit them was odd. Hitting either in the center row, or the middle one in the bottom row didn't shake it enough to move much at all, but the top can knocked over easily. If he had to guess, they were weighted differently to make the structure more stable, and much harder to topple. The closest you got to tipping over any of them was when one of your beanbags hit the one on the far left, moving it slightly out of place.

Interesting.

“Ugh, this is impossible,” You groaned, after wasting another three tries.

“You're getting better each time!” The attendant said, while he fixed the can that was askew.

“Let me try.” Kaveh cut in. He handed over some of the little money he'd brought with him, and took the offered bean bags.

“Good luck,” You told him ruefully. Kaveh took a deep breath, steeling himself. His aim wasn't terrible, but with the game being as obviously rigged as it was, he wasn't certain he'd be able to hit it.

The first throw, he hit the corner can directly in the middle, just hard enough to push it backwards slightly. It didn't topple the structure, but after zeroing in on the weakest link, knocking it down would be easy.

The second throw was slightly short, only hitting the side of the can. It moved it, causing the stack to wobble, but did little to actually achieve his goal of making it fall over.

Finally, he lined up his last throw. This was it, his last chance. With all his force, he hurled the beanbag at the tower of cans, hitting the corner squarely and pushing it right over. Without the bottom to support it, the second and third layer fell down, knocking over the other cans as well.

“You did it!” You cheered, squeezing Kaveh in a quick hug.

“Congratulations!” The man said, fishing behind the counter for something. “Here you go.”

In his hands was an ugly stuffed bear, with fluorescent pink fur and beady black eyes. He held it out like it was a diamond ring, grinning at Kaveh with finality.

“Oh... but didn't you say if I knocked down six cans I could choose whatever one I wanted?” Kaveh asked, wondering if he misheard the man. He nodded towards the plush you were eyeing. “I actually wanted the peacock over there.”

“Well, see, you have to knock them down in one try if you want the big prize.” The attendant scoffed. “Or else it doesn't count.”

“You didn't say that!” You protested. “You only said knock three cans down.”

“And I did knock them down in one try,” Kaveh argued. “On my last try, they all fell down at once.”

“It has to be your first one, boy.”

“You didn't say that either!” You threw your hands up in frustration, voice reaching a shout.

“Fine.” Kaveh snatched the ugly looking bear, and shoved it at you. He dug around for his wallet, slapping the last of his money on the counter.

“You already won a bear, don't you want to let someone else have a turn?” The attendant protested. Sure enough, there was a small line of people waiting for their turn. Still, Kaveh shook his head.

“One more turn, and I leave.”

The man, perhaps hoping to make him leave quicker, or perhaps just interested in more of his money, handed him some more beanbags with a grumble. He turned around to set up the cans again, arranging them into another pyramid.

Kaveh watched him carefully, noting the way he paused before placing down each can, clearly feeling the weight of each. He noted the way the man was sure to place the slightly lighter can on the other corner, probably hoping that Kaveh would aim for the same one and fail to knock it over.

“Hit it as hard as you can,” You whispered to him, once he was done. “Picture it as something you hate, and hit it with everything you've got.”

Kaveh squinted at the cans. Something he hated...

Nothing immediately came to mind. Perhaps his roommate, who had a personality as enjoyable as a rainy, downcast day. Maybe that engineering professor who marked him down for a tiny spelling mistake. Or even the attendant glowering back at him as he waited for his throw.

Of course, he could always picture that project he was working on, the one that cost him far too many days and nights and still remained unfinished. As he stared at the rusty metal, all he could see was the crossed out sketches and scribbled notes, all a mess that he couldn't decipher. They taunted him; a monument to his failures and shortcomings, a reminder of the progress that he has yet to make—

Without thinking, he reeled back his arm and hurled the beanbag as hard as he could, slamming it into the can. The entire tower toppled over, cans falling from the table onto the floor.

“Yeah! That's my best friend!” You yelled, pumping your fist in the air.

Kaveh tried not to look smug, but a wide grin was already spreading across his face. “The peacock, please.”

The stuffed animal was reluctantly taken down and handed over to him, before he passed it to you.

“There. Consider it my thanks for the ticket,” Kaveh said proudly.

“Thank you,” You smiled down at the peacock, running your hand through the soft tail feathers. “I love it.”

-----

After a few more games with far less luck, the pair of you stopped by the food stalls to get something to eat. There was a wide variety, with some fried foods, some sweet snacks, even a stand selling freshly squeezed lemonade.

You settled on a stall selling pita pockets, and Kaveh had no objections. The smell alone was enough to convince him to line up.

“Oh! Hi [Name], hi Kaveh!” A familiar voice chirped. Collei was stood at the counter, smiling widely.

“Collei, I didn't expect to see you here!” Kaveh greeted her warmly.

“It's my after-school job!” She explained. “I'm trying to earn some extra money for my treatment. I can't be dependent on Tighnari for everything, you know!”

Kaveh's smile faltered for just a moment. Collei's declining health wasn't a secret; there was a reason that her brother had to take care of her so much, but she was still so selfless, even with all of her struggles.

“Ah, I should have asked!” Collei jumped suddenly, scrambling to grab her notepad. “What can I get you today?”

“Just two pita pockets please,” You ordered. “And a water, too.”

“Coming right up!”

After getting your food, the two of you sat down to eat in a shady spot by the fence. The pita pockets were warm and fresh, the perfect thing to quell Kaveh's hunger. When was the last time he had a cooked meal, or any food that wasn't straight out of a vending machine? The focus on his project had stolen away all his attention, leaving him to neglect his own appetite.

“What's next?” You asked through a mouthful of bread, your words slightly muffled.

Kaveh hummed, surveying the rest of the fair. You had walked through most of the surroundings, leaving only a small section unexplored. That portion happened to be the part with all of the rides, where the Ferris Wheel loomed over the food stalls.

“How about the Ferris Wheel?” Kaveh suggested.

Your eyes lit up again, and you jumped to your feet. “Yes! Let's go!”

-----

In hindsight, you should have expected the line, but neither of you even considered the possibility until you were stuck in the middle of it. It was cramped and uncomfortable; the overwhelming crowds were almost enough to deter you. Almost.

“This is taking forever.” You groaned, slumping against Kaveh.

“Have a little patience.” Kaveh sighed, even as his own patience was wearing thin.

Directly in front was an irritated boy with a bowlcut who Kaveh was certain was in one of his classes, accompanied by a young white-haired girl holding his sleeve. Ahead of them, there was a family of four, several couples, another group of friends, and many more waiting for their turn.

It was going to be a long time before they even saw the ticket booth, let alone made it on the Ferris Wheel.

“Oh my, [Name]! Is that you?” A sweet voice called out to you.

You turned to see Nilou, a cheerful girl and another student at your university, waving to catch your attention as she walked over.

“Oh, hi!” You greeted. “How are you?”

“I'm good! I came with Dehya instead, and it's been a wonderful day.” She smiled back, smoothing down the front of her dress.

“That's good. We're just—” You jerked your head to motion towards the line. “—Waiting, as you can tell.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I'm glad you ended up coming, even if you didn't come with me. Isn't it wonderful?” Nilou gushed.

You nodded, with a slightly strained smile. Kaveh noticed the change instantly, studying your expression with a frown. “Yeah, it is.”

“I'd better go, Dehya is waiting for me. Take care, [Name]!” Nilou gave you a brief side-hug, before waving goodbye and dashing off.

“I didn't know you were friends with Nilou.” Kaveh said as soon as she left.

“Yeah, she's a classmate.” You said simply, leaving it at that.

After some time, you managed to make it into the compartment and on the Ferris Wheel. Kaveh sat across from you, pulling his legs close so you had more room to get comfortable, and your peacock plushie rested on your lap. The entire box was filled with windows, giving you a full view of the fair as it rose into the air.

“Woah... you can see everything up here.” As the box began to dip back down, your head swiveled to see as much of the area as possible.

“It's amazing... everything looks so small.” Kaveh breathed, as you hummed in agreement.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence, simply basking in each other's company as you observed the landscape below. There wasn't a need for awkward small talk or idle conversation to fill the space between you; you were happy to just exist with each other for a moment.

“There's one thing I don't get.” Kaveh said suddenly. You looked away from the window with a curious expression, silently waiting for him to elaborate. “You said you didn't have anyone to go here with, but Nilou implied she already asked you and you turned her down. Why is that?”

“Oh. Yeah. I lied.” You shrugged, turning back to watch the Ferris Wheel move upwards.

“Why would you lie?” Kaveh spluttered at your nonchalant response.

You made a noncommittal noise, shrugging again. “Nilou could find someone else to go with. I wanted to go with you.”

He stumbled over his words, trying to get out a coherent response. “But��But why?”

“Do I need a reason?” You laughed, bright and clear. “You're my best friend. And besides, you needed a break. I haven't seen you this relaxed in a week.”

Kaveh fell silent. You had a point, he hadn't felt as relaxed in a while. In fact, he had barely given all of his stresses a thought, since you dragged him to the fair.

You always had that way with him, able to pull him out of his own head and get him back on his feet. Ever since you became friends, you were the ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds and bringing light to even his most dull days.

Maybe that was the foundation of your relationship, all the times you had seen each other at rock bottom, and still stuck around to bring the other back to the surface for air. He'd been witness to many of your own late-night breakdowns over failed assignments and miserable group projects, but he would never dream of leaving you to deal with it on your own.

It was you and him, against the world. As close as two friends could be, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

“What would I do without you?” Kaveh sighed, with a smile on his face. You looked back and grinned at him, the sunlight on your face making it look like you were glowing.

“No idea. But you're stuck with me now.”

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

#✒️ : avie's writing . ⊹ ˚ .#—stellaronhvnters.#hvntersecretsanta #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin kaveh x reader #genshin impact kaveh x reader #kaveh fluff #genshin fluff #x reader #platonic x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic kaveh x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader

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geeky-politics-46 · 1 year ago

Text

Show Me/Her Prize

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Sinister Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: You discover Stephen's little panty stealing habit and request a demonstration of what he does with them.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - mutual masturbation, dirty talk, panty stealing, slight dom/sub, sub Sinister, slight degradation, fingering, reference to oral sex, reference to vaginal sex, pet names, language

This is a follow-up to my story "His Prize". The idea was first posited in a comment from @ppatricia34me & the mutual masturbation theme requested by @ironstrange1991. Thank you for the ideas, as I'm quite proud of this one!

"Stephen, did I drop some laundry in the hallway? This can't be all of it."

Your voice echoed through the Sanctum and quickly found your lover's ear. From his spot in the living room, where he had been perched with some ancient tome he was rereading, Stephen stood up and started to scan the hall you had just come from for anything you may have dropped.

He carefully placed the book down and continued looking around the floor to no avail. There didn't appear to be anything you had dropped and left behind. He even retraced your steps, ending in the doorway of the master bedroom. Where he found you sitting on your shared bed sorting through a large load of freshly dried laundry.

"I didn't see anything in the hall, my love. Why? What's wrong?"

By now, you had started separating the clothes into distinct piles. One for his robes, one for his casual wear and boxers, one for your daily clothes, one for your pajamas, and lastly, one for your bras and panties. The last pile was definitely the smallest and seemed to be the source of your conundrum. Without looking up from the pile, you answered.

"It's just weird, I can only find one pair of my underwear, and there should definitely be more than that."

Oh shit.

He tried to keep his expression neutral as you rooted through the piles of clothes again. Checking to make sure they weren't stuck inside sleeves or pant legs. Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and slight frustration.

He knew you weren't going to find them because he knew where they all really were. Sitting in the bottom right-hand drawer of his desk in his study. All stained with his cum. Having taken them to enjoy on his own. He didn't realize he must have pilfered quite so many. He certainly didn't intend for you to notice.

Or maybe he secretly did. Why else would he have kept doing it? Why else would he let himself take another pair without returning the last pair? It had all started with that purple lace pair he loved so much. Now, his drawer held a veritable rainbow of colors and fabrics.

Really, it was all your fault. He had never been this way before you. Never stolen another girlfriend's panties before. Never been this insatiable before. It was just something about you that had him so obsessed and needy. He practically felt drunk every time you touched him. You just had this power over him. How could he resist taking your panties?

He could fix this though. All he had to do was make it look like you had just missed a pile of laundry in the dryer. He would just go get your underwear out of his drawer, except maybe that favorite purple pair, use his magic to clean them and then bring them back, saying they were still in the dryer.

Yeah, that was it. That was what he would do. In the future, he would just be more careful about keeping his little collection under control because he definitely didn't intend to stop. He just had to go get them before you finished what you were doing and went to go check the dryer yourself.

"Tell you what, my love, why don't I go check to make sure you didn't miss some clothes in the dryer or drop them in the basement. You know how dark it can get down there. Don't you move a muscle."

With that, he turned on a heel and walked out of the room in large strides that were just a bit too quick to appear innocent. You waited just a moment to follow him. Assuming that if he was up to something, you wanted to catch him red-handed.

As soon as he was out of your view, he nearly ran to his office. Quickly unlocking the drawer with his magic and pulling all of your panties up onto his desk. Noticing just how out of control his habit had gotten, but still not wanting to give back any of them. Not when he now had such fond memories of each and every pair.

He quickly started sorting through them, trying to find the purple pair he refused to surrender, and maybe one or two others he just couldn't bear to part with. Did he want to keep the comfy cotton ones that weren't super sexy but held your scent the best? Or did he want to keep the tiny little black lace ones that hardly qualified as panties but looked so good both on you and wrapped around his cock?

That was how you found him. Standing behind his desk with a mountain of your panties in front of him. Black lace pair in one hand and the cotton pair in the other. Eyes darting back and forth like he was dealing with a filthy Sophie's choice.

Once he realized you were standing in the doorway, he could have quite literally died of embarrassment. He wanted to crawl under the desk and pretend this was all some hormone driven nightmare. His cheeks immediately flushed bright red. Actually, they matched the really soft crimson red pair of your panties that had little penguins on them that also happened to be sitting right in front of him on his desk.

"Uhhh… don't freak out okay. This isn't what it looks like."

That was the best response to your questioning face that he could come up with. He knew it wasn't a good response. Is it ever good when you have to use the phrases 'don't freak out' or 'this isn't what it looks like'?

What made it even worse was that he couldn't seem to pry his fingers loose from your panties. So, instead of dropping the two the pairs he had been holding, he reflexively hid them behind his back.

You tried as best as you could to not give away how close to falling apart with laughter you were. Of all the things you thought you might find, this was definitely not what you would have guessed. Stephen's flustered 'teenage boy caught with a Playboy' appearance made him look even more adorable and 100% guilty.

You have never felt more confident in your entire life. The big scary sorcerer who was ready to threaten you with death when you fell into his world had not only fallen for you but also apparently had a naughty little habit of stealing your panties. By the looks of the white-ish stains streaked across each and every pair, it also appeared he quite enjoyed himself with them too.

"Well, I guess this answers my question about where all my panties have gone. Doesn't it Stephen?"

You slowly started walking towards him with an extra sway in your hips. Your steps were slow and deliberate. Letting your fingers drag against the knick knacks around the room as you passed by them. Your body practically thrummed with energy. You felt so powerful seeing how your lover was so utterly entranced by you.

"Are you really that much of a needy boy that you resorted to stealing all my panties to jack off with? Only leaving me a single pair to wear. I guess you are a greedy boy, too. My greedy little panty thief. I can just imagine all three fun you've had with these. I can see it too."

You could see the effect your words were having on him. Somewhere between shame and arousal pooling in his eyes as he softly nodded. Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. His hands came back around to the desk. His fingers flexing and then grabbing at the pile of your soiled panties. Like a cat pawing at a scratching post.

"My naughty boy. Tell me baby, do you like them better fresh off my pussy or after you've made them all messy by covering them with cum?"

A groan pulled from deep in his throat at both. Fuck, he didn't want to chose. He loved both. Your essence and smell was obviously why he stole them in the first place, but he kept them afterward because he loved seeing them marked with his cum. It was the same appeal of seeing you covered in his cum.

"I know you aren't shy Stephen, with all the filth you normally say when we fuck. Cat got your tongue honey? Don't worry, I'm not mad at you naughty boy. In fact, the thought of you being so needy and horny that you steal my panties is really hot. It makes me feel like the powerful one."

By now, you had made your way over to stand next to him behind the desk. His eyes followed you the entire way even though his hands still hadn't let go of your panties. You reached up to brush a tendril of dark hair back from his face. Gently letting the back of your fingers caress his cheekbone on the way back down.

"You're so pretty, Stephen. Do you know that? I don't think I tell you that enough."

You felt your cunt flutter at the way he keened at your praise. He was still so unused to being complimented, especially by you. He had spent years tearing himself down and you were quite enjoying building him back up. Slowly watching him become more confident in your presence and in your affections.

Reaching down, you carefully untangled his hands from the pile of your panties on his desk. Taking his hands in yours before leading him to sit down in the large armchair behind his desk. Letting your hands come to rest on his broad shoulders after leading his hands to sit on your hips.

You were very thankful that you had neglected getting dressed that day. Still wearing the oversized t-shirt you had slept in the night before. It made the next part of your plan so easy to execute.

"Show me, Stephen. I wanna see."

He was sure his brain had completely melted into a puddle at that point. There was no way you were actually asking what he thought you were.

"I said show me, Stephen. Show me what you do with my panties. I want to see how you play with your cock when you are in here alone. Just you and my panties that you have such a bad habit of stealing."

Without looking away from you, he started to reach back over to the desk to grab a pair of the panties that he had squirreled away. Only to stop suddenly when you tutted and shook your head no at him. Making his brow furrow in slight confusion.

"I don't want you to use any of those panties, Stephen. I want you to use the ones I'm wearing right now. Go ahead. Take them off of me."

He nodded gently while biting on his lower lip. Clearly fighting the urge to start disobeying your orders and throw you on the desk. He did find this dominant side of you ever so enticing though. He rarely let his more submissive side show, but this he could get used to.

He placed his hands back on your body, this time letting them graze teasingly up the sides of your thighs. Coming to rest so his thumbs could slide under the waistband of your panties. Glancing up briefly to make sure he was doing what you wanted, the mischievous smirk on your face answering his question. A single nod falling before he started moving again.

Using the gentlest motions he could, he carefully slid your panties down your legs. Letting them pool at your feet and holding out his hand to you so you could steady yourself as you stepped out of them.

Once you had finished, you moved to sit yourself up on the edge of Stephen's desk. Ready to enjoy the show he was about to put on for you. You signaled for him to continue.

"Go on, baby. Pick them up."

Without taking his eyes off of you, he leaned down and delicately picked up your panties like they were a precious treasure. His long, beautiful fingers barely gripping the fabric with one hand. His other hand moved to start undoing the belts of his robes before moving to unfasten his pants. His bulge was now quite pronounced.

You were getting more aroused by the second. You wanted to indulge your own need and slide your fingers between your legs, but you had a plan. That plan was to make him beg to touch you. You wanted to wait to touch yourself until he was on the verge of crumbling.

Even now, he looked a mess. Hair disheveled, breathing heavy. His cock already so hard and flushed. His tip was weeping precum already. His hand gripping his shaft lightly and making long languid strokes. He was clearly being very careful not to make himself cum quickly.

"You have such a pretty cock Stephen. So big and hard. Does it hurt, baby? Bet I know what would make it feel better. Why don't you go ahead and wrap my panties around that pretty cock."

A wicked smile on your face as he did exactly as you told him. Who knew he could like being told what to do so much? Who knew your panties would look so good wrapped around his shaft?

You watched for a moment as he stroked himself with your panties. Occasionally moving to adjust the soft fabric so he could caress his balls with it or slide it up and over his dripping slit. Creating little wet stains from his precum before sliding it back up and down his veined velvety length.

"Tell me why you like stealing my panties so much, Stephen? I think I'm starting to like it myself. It's like you're marking your cock as mine."

He groaned at your statement and bucked his hips up. The urge to fuck his fist faster threatening to overtake him, but he was still holding out hope that he would get the chance to bury himself in your cunt before this was over. So he answered you, in as much detail as his brain would allow at the moment. All while continuing to stroke himself for your enjoyment.

"I like it because I'm fucking addicted to you. I want to fuck you every minute of the day. This way I get the smell and feel of you without having to bother you. The best is when they are still a little wet when I get a hold of them. Like I got you riled up and wet earlier in the day, or maybe we already fucked and you were leaking a bit of my cum. Have to fight the urge to lick them clean while jerking off."

You bit your bottom lip and moaned at his answer. It was one of the sexiest things you had ever heard him say. Any self-control you had left was quickly crumbling. Falling apart completely when he added one more sentence.

"... and this is your cock, darling. All of me belongs to you. Always will."

Your legs started to spread on their own when he told you he belonged to you. You both knew just as well that you belonged to him just the same. Deciding to reward him, you slowly spread your legs before bringing one foot up to rest on his desk. Spreading yourself wide so you were fully exposed to him.

"Well, this is all yours, Stephen, and I'm sure you can tell how turned on watching you has gotten me. See how wet I am just from watching you stroke your cock for me?"

A wicked grin on your face as you brought one hand to your cunt and pulled your pussy lips open. Making sure he could see your innermost petals glistening for him. He reflexively licked his lips when he saw your slick practically dripping from your hole onto his desk. His hips now thrusting up into his hand and your panties uncontrollably.

You knew there was no way that he could hold himself back long enough to give you time to make yourself cum with him. You could still enjoy yourself and get him to finish the job after you enjoyed your show. Knowing that watching you play with yourself would help push him over the edge quicker.

So you let your fingers start rubbing at your cunt. Working to spread your wetness over your folds. Sighing at the feeling of finally getting some direct stimulation. You pulled your hand away and slapped your pussy a couple times. Groaning at the tingle it sent through you. Letting your fingers trail back up to circle your clit as you leaned on your other arm for support.

Your bottom lip had made its way between your teeth. Your eyes were hooded and just as hazed with lust as Stephen's. Both of you were completely lost in each other without even touching each other.

You lowered your hand to slide two fingers in and out of your cunt. Knowing how much Stephen loved it when he could hear how wet you were for him. Your body did not disappoint as you started to thrust your middle and index fingers in and out of yourself. Somewhat frustrated that your fingers weren't as long and thick as Stephen's and that you couldn't quite reach your g-spot the way he could.

It still felt incredible though. Making sure to keep your palm grinding over your clit as you finger fucked yourself. A high pitched moan when you hit the perfect rhythm making Stephen start to lose his own pacing. Knowing he was about to hit his point of no return he couldn't hold back his whimpers any longer and he did something he never thought he would do. He begged.

"Oh fuck baby. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you. Can I cum? Please let me cum."

Groaning at his unprompted begging, you vigorously shook your head, yes. Summoning your sweetest voice, you answered him and granted his request.

"Cum for me Stephen. Show me how you cum all over my panties. Fill them up like a good boy."

He made sure to hold your panties so that they caught every thick warm spurt of his cum. Making sure to spread it around on the fabric, specifically aiming for the crotch of your panties. He had become well practiced at it. In a way he felt like it turned your panties into artwork. Pieces dedicated to how much he loved you. His orgasm was prolonged by having you there watching and touching yourself. Leaving the fabric somewhat soaked as he kept a hold of them. Once again, he wanted to keep them for himself. Just like all the others.

Once he had started to catch his breath and opened his eyes you pulled your fingers out of your pussy and brought your soaked fingers to his lips. Smiling when he greedily took them into his mouth and began sucking your nectar from them. Letting him enjoy a little treat before offering him a compromise to his panty stealing problem.

"Tell you what, Stephen, I'll make you a deal. You can keep one pair of my panties for every orgasm you give me tonight. Sound like a plan?"

You had barely finished your proposition before Stephen was shoving your hand away and pushing you to lay flat on his desk. Moving to loop his arms around your legs. Diving face first into your cunt and starting to devour you like a man starved.

He didn't even bother tucking his cock back into his pants. He knew he would be hard again before long, and he intended to make you cum enough times he could keep his entire collection.

You might not have any panties left by the time he was done with you, but you would have a hell of a consolation prize.

--------------------------------

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pulsarsatellite · 2 years ago

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The Rainbow Emerges

The next chapter of Days of Laughs And Nights of Screams is up to read now!

You can read the new chapter here!

Chapter Snippet:

Keep reading

#orbits of fancy (reblog)#live reacting in the tags because i feel like it and i love this fic so much #please don't look if you haven't read #DID YOU THINK I FORGOT?? NOPE. Just got a lil distracted with v-day shenanigans I mean did you see that atom bomb poem Spring dropped on me #I had to go back and read 'Clouds Disperse' as I missed that one getting posted somehow @.@ ah well #I can only imagine Sun's been sending so many emails it's a miracle our email host hasn't flagged him as spam #yeaaaaa moving in with friends is the better deal anyway! Close comfort and bills split into smaller more manageable chunks #AWWWWW SPRING'S NEVER SEEN A REAL RAINBOW UNTIL NOW -- THAT'S A CUTE AS SHIT IDEA MY GOD #I'm occasionally overtaken by how fucking adorable some ideas are when I lose sight of them normally. like taking time to look at rainbows #There was a brief moment of a moonbow here a little while ago I got the pleasure of peeking at #hehehe the back and forth with the cutesy nicknames is precious and I'm just... adoring this so much #SUN JUST. THROWING THE PAPERS HE WAS HOLDING TO SHAKE FREDDY'S HAND IS SENDING ME #oh no not trial.... QUICK BRIBE HIM!!#Y E SSSSSSS #KISS DRUNK KISS DRUNK -slamming fists on desk- KISS DRUNK #BRIBING JUDGE -AND- JURY WE'VE GOT THE WHOLE COURTHOUSE NOW #completely understandable Ngyuen. I don't think a soul would blame you for -not- being able to stand there tbfh but you're a bad bitch #poor Moon has no idea what to do with all this forgiveness and understanding being thrown at him #AWWWWW SOFTIE NIGHTMARE FREDBEAR. BIG OL GOOEY PIECE OF TAR <3 #aw we could just said 'staff shortages' instead of 'various reasons' but fuck it sure. keep the mystery going #PB!!!! BUNNYYYYYY AAAAAAAAAAAA MY WHOLE HEART #MY SONIONS ARE BACK #look at this cheeky devil I love them so much aaaa-#NOT ANOTHER SWEET POEM MY HEART #HEHEHEEH MOON HIDING UNDER HIS HAT SO GOOD. Got his ass #AWWWW MOON AND PB MAKING EFFORTS -TOGETHER- TO FACE THEIR OWN HEALING PROCESSES #Duck... man... my whole heart ;-;#I don't think I can ever say thank you enough for putting so much passion and time and effort into creating this beautiful work of fanfic #but thank you it's beautiful and this chapter is very heartwarming and cathartic and healing... as it needs to be #I SEE THAT MR. G BEING A LAY-LOW. I GOT MY EYE ON YOU.

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bullet-prooflove · 6 months ago

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Dirt: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kiwiwatermelonsuger @sadgenderfluidmaniac @junghwansy2k

Summer School Series:

Part One: Summer School - Daniel's excited to meet Anthony's new art teacher.

Your evening class is just letting out when Daniel drops by your studio. Your students are an array of ages between thirty and sixty, all chattering amongst themselves as they file out of the workshop.

“Oh hey.” You say when you see him lingering in the doorway. “Take a look around while I clean myself up.”

You’re wearing an apron covered in iron filings, your hair tied back in a ponytail. There’s a dark smear streaked across your cheek and somehow it’s just the sexiest damn thing. It isn’t until now that he realises how attractive he finds a woman who works with her hands, one that isn’t afraid to get a little dirty.

When you disappear into the backroom to washup, he finds himself touring the studio reviewing the projects your students are undertaking. He’s amazed by the creativity in the work, the complexity and the simplicity. He sees owls, and rainbows, figures on skateboards made with cogs and wrenches, nuts and bolts.

He pauses when he comes to the workbench at the head of the studio. There’s a large piece spread out across it, something much bigger than anything else in here. It’s made of wrought iron with intricate silver, gold and copper leaves soldered to the branches.

“It’s the tree of life.” You tell him as you come to stand alongside him, using a cloth to dry your hands. “It’s one of my most popular designs.”

“It’s beautiful.” He tells you, his fingertips trailing over the indentations in the metal, each one hand crafted. A blush creeps up across your cheeks and Daniel finds it endearing. You aren’t used to being appreciated, he can tell.

“When I first started the studio my ex told me this whole thing was a silly little girl’s dream.” You tell him as you gesture to the airy space around you. “He said I’d go under within a year.”

“How long has it been?” Daniel asks as he leans back against the desk.

“Three years.” You tell him as you hang the cloth up on a peg to dry.

“You are making that man eat his words.” Daniel says with a fierce sense of pride because truly you’ve accomplished something remarkable. “All of this, it’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” You say softly, your face lighting up. It’s at that moment Daniel realises you still have that smear of dirt on your cheek. He reaches out to wipe it as your eyes flicker up to meet his and in that moment he’s lost. The edges of your mouth turn up into a smile and he leans in close. The scent of your perfume floods his senses, it’s something dark, something sensual. Indian rose, he thinks with apricots, there’s an undertone of amber. It awakens something in Daniel, something he’s not felt in a long time.

The door bangs open and the two of you break apart as one of your students hurries inside, apologising profusely for forgetting her bag.

“So what do you think?” You ask him after retrieving the item and bidding her goodnight. “Is it a good fit for Anthony?”

“Yea.” Daniel says as he looks around the room, a smile crossing his handsome features. “Yea I think it is.”

Love Danny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#daniel larusso #daniel larusso x reader #danny larusso #danny larusso x reader #ralph macchio #cobra kai

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littlest-w01f · 24 days ago

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Crushing

For @acotargiftexchange

This is my gift for my lovely recipient @cinmawrites

ACOTARGIFTEXCHANGE MASTERLIST

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven

A desk job was not something Feyre Archeron had imagined for her future, but with her business major, that was what she saw in her future. After graduating, she'd be working full time at the Starfall Publishing House, for now she only interned during her last year of studies.

She wore a crisp white blouse and fitted black skirt, paired with a coat to help with the chill of early December, feeling somewhat out of place among the sea of creative types in the bustling office. The hum of keyboards and animated chatter filled the air as colleagues collaborated on manuscripts, brainstorming sessions, and marketing strategies.

As Feyre knocked on and stepped into Rhysand's lavish office, with a coffee on a tray, her boss himself looked up from behind his sleek desk, his piercing blue gaze meeting hers, his eyes were so deep they appeared violet. His raven hair was perfectly tousled, framing his angular face and chiselled features. He wore a tailored black suit that accentuated his lean physique, exuding an aura of power and sophistication.

The office space was a testament to Rhysand's refined taste. Plush crimson carpets softened the sound of footsteps, while the walls were adorned with stunning pieces of art depicting breathtaking landscapes. Towering windows framed a breathtaking view of the city below, the twinkling lights as stars, planets and other celestial bodies painted a mesmerizing mural on the roof.

Feyre loved looking at the roof of Rhysand's office, admiring the strokes that it took to create the masterpiece, she'd painted a sky like that on her dresses when she was young, the memory still strong, the only good one she had of her childhood. Once upon a time, she might've furthered her passion for art, but she needed money more than she loved art, to not end up on the streets. It was one of the reasons she wanted the internship that was offered because of the pay.

In the centre of the room, a magnificent crystal chandelier cast a rainbow of colours across the polished furniture, adding to the ambience. A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lined one wall, filled with books bound in leather, their gilded lettering glinting in the soft light.

As Feyre turned back to face Rhysand, she felt a flutter in her chest, her cheeks warming slightly under his intense scrutiny. She cleared her throat and set the coffee down on the edge of his desk before pulling out files and a pen from her bag.

"I brought your morning briefing, sir," She said, flipping open the files to reveal neatly written notes on current projects, deadlines, and meetings scheduled for the day. "Everything seems to be on track."

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, hand wrapping around his cup of coffee, as he regarded her while looking over the file. "Excellent work, Ms Archeron. Your attention to detail is impressive." His voice was low and smooth, like velvet. "I trust you're finding the internship... Enlightening?"

The compliment formed a pleasant smile on her face, but she couldn't shake off the lingering unease that always seemed to accompany their interactions. There was something about him - the way he looked at her, the tone of his voice, the very air he commanded - that made one feel both drawn to and intimidated by him. She'd heard plenty of people say he simply had that effect on them.

"I've been doing well, thank you," She replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's been a great learning experience so far." She hesitated, then added, "Although Amren is still a little cold."

"Yes, well, my secretary does have a reputation for being... Formidable," Rhysand chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "But don't let her prickly exterior fool you. Beneath all those sharp edges lies a brilliant mind and a fierce loyalty."

Feyre nodded, trying to picture the enigmatic Amren beneath her icy demeanour. "Then I look forward to getting to know her better." She paused, considering how much to share. "Speaking of which, I wanted to ask about my role within the company. With my background in business, I hope there would be more opportunities for growth..."

Rhysand leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his piercing gaze holding hers captive. "Ah, yes. Well, we do value a good business acumen here at Starfall. In fact, I've been considering promoting you to a junior management position once you complete your internship and final year." His lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. "Of course, such a role comes with certain... Responsibilities and expectations. Nothing you can't handle, if you impress me further we'll see what's next for you."

Feyre nodded eagerly, her heart pounding at the prospect of advancement in her career. "That sounds wonderful, sir. I won't disappoint." She met his gaze, trying to convey her determination and gratitude.

Rhysand inclined his head, a hint of approval in his expression. "I believe in potential, Ms. Archeron. Potential that I intend to nurture and develop within these walls. I expect great things from you." He stood up, moving around the desk to stand closer to her, his presence commanding despite his measured steps.

Feyre felt herself straightened up slightly as Rhysand approached, her breath catching in her throat. His proximity was overwhelming, the scent of his cologne mingling with the rich aroma of leather-bound books and polished wood. She could see the individual flecks of dark blue in his irises, like scattered stars against an endless night sky.

Feyre swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she found herself inches away from his imposing form. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne, musky and alluring. Her mind raced, unsure how to respond to this sudden shift in their interaction.

Before Feyre could formulate a response, Rhysand abruptly stepped back, reclaiming some distance between them. "Well, I suppose that's enough small talk for now," he said, his tone abrupt yet controlled. "You should get back to your work. I'm sure Amren has already begun scrutinizing your every move."

Feyre blinked, feeling a rush of relief mixed with disappointment at the sudden change in atmosphere. She quickly gathered her things, nodding briskly. "Yes, of course. Thank you again for your time, Mr. Darling."

Rhysand's eyes lingered on Feyre's form as she walked out of his office, drinking in the delicate curves of her features, the flush of colour on her neck that was visible through the strands of her hair, the sparkle of intelligence that lay in her deep blueish-grey eyes. He could sense the subtle shift in her posture, the way her breath quickened ever so slightly in his presence. Yes, there was most definitely an undeniable attraction between them, simmering just beneath the surface.

His thoughts drifted to the countless nights spent alone in his home, the emptiness echoing through the halls. But with Feyre in the room, even now, he found himself intrigued, captivated.

Rhysand's mind wandered, imagining the possibilities of having Feyre closer, seeing her every day, hearing her laughter ring out in the halls of his grand estate. He pictured her sitting across from him at dinner, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as they simply talked. He envisioned her curled up beside him on the couch, lost in a book, as he stroked her hair, whispering words of encouragement.

The fantasy was intoxicating, almost too tempting to resist. Yet, Rhysand knew he must remain cautious. Feyre was an intern, after all, and he held a position of power over her, a whole lot more than she knew. Crossing lines could lead to complications best avoided. Still, he couldn't deny the allure of her presence, the of the fantasy that that begun to plague his mind at the mere sight of her.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Feyre found herself inexplicably drawn to Rhysand's charismatic presence. Every time their paths crossed, her heart skipped a beat, her pulse racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him - the way his eyes seemed to see right through her, the depth of his voice, the confident air he carried like second nature.

Feyre often caught herself stealing glances at him during meetings, marvelling at the way his lips curved into a knowing smirk or the way his raven hair fell across his forehead when he leaned back to discuss a project. He was so casual yet so professional, a part of her didn't understand where they stood. If he was like that with everyone or just her. She found herself working extra hard to earn a compliment from him, putting in a lot of effort on her work and on herself.

While she was walking back to her college dorms her phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Heart fluttering, Feyre pulled out her device, hoping against hope it might be Rhysand reaching out. But instead of his name flashing across the screen, she saw the familiar name of her best friend.

MORRI💃: Hey girl! I miss you<3. How's life in the corporate world treating ya? How long till you'll be back?

Feyre let out a sighed laugh, her disappointment momentarily replaced by amusement. She had been so preoccupied with Rhysand that she hadn't reached out to Mor the entire day, but now, they had the rest of the time together. Morrigan was a fashion marketing major, and they shared a dorm, forming a fast friendship almost three years ago when they started university.

With only a moment of thought Feyre typed out a quick reply, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

FEYFEY🎨: Hey Mors! Missed you too. Work life's crazy busy, but in a good way. Was just done with my internship then I'm free to indulge in Netflix binges and take naps whenever we want 😴.

As soon as she hit send, Feyre felt a pang of longing. She missed Mor's bubbly energy and their late-night chats about everything under the sun. University had been challenging, but sharing a room with her best friend made it bearable. Now that midterms were over they finally had time for some peace and partying.

Ten minutes later, Feyre swung open the door to her dormitories. She turned to see Mor bouncing up, her vibrant hair rolled up in messy heatless curler, a wide grin plastered across her face. she wrapped Feyre in a tight hug, nearly knocking the wind out of her. "Welcome back!!"

"Oof, hey yourself!" Feyre laughed, returning the embrace. As they separated, Mor took Feyre's hand, leading her inside their cosy shared space. The room was cluttered with fashion magazines and piles of textbooks. A string of fairy lights twinkled above their desks, casting a warm glow over the space.

There was a third, now empty bed, their ex-roommate had moved out, Ianthe, the name still filled Feyre and Mor with rage. They both shuddered at the thought of Ianthe, memories of her manipulative behaviour and cruel pranks flooding back. It had taken months for the roommates to recover from her toxic influence, but eventually, they had managed to heal and rebuild their friendship stronger than ever.

Mor plopped down on their plush beanbag chair, beckoning Feyre to join her. "So, tell me more about this internship. What's it like working with Rhys?"

Feyre hesitated, forgetting how casually Mor talked of him, he was her cousin after all, and she had, in her own words, bitten his ear off to get Feyre the internship she had, she never asked for anything in return but Feyre took Mor out on her first paycheque. But Mor's genuine interest and concern for her well-being made her open up. "It's... Intense."

Feyre fiddled with the hem of her blouse, unbuttoning her top to change into something more casual. "He's demanding, always pushing me to do better," Feyre explained, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she remembered Rhysand's intense stare and commanding presence. "And the work itself is also nice... I'm getting used to it."

Mor nodded attentively, her brown eyes sparkling with understanding. "I can imagine. Rhys has always been driven, even when we were younger. But if he's motivating you, that's great!"

She paused, studying Feyre's expression closely. "But there's something else, isn't there? Something you're not telling me…" Mor's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes locked on Feyre's soft crimson cheeks. "Come on, spill. What's really going on? Does Feyre have her first big girl crush?"

In all the years that they had known each other, while Mor had many women in her life, Feyre rarely showed interest in anyone, and the blush on her face told her everything she needed to know.

Feyre's cheeks flushed a deep crimson at the attention, and she quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. "Oh, shut up!" she muttered, trying to play it cool despite the fluttering sensation in her chest. "No... I don't."

Truthfully, she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge these new feelings, not even to herself in the weeks she'd had them. It was too strange, too sudden, too overwhelming. But Mor's teasing remark had struck a nerve, making Feyre realize just how much her thoughts had strayed to Rhysand lately.

"I mean, he's... Handsome, I guess," Feyre said, still struggling to find the right words. "And smart, and funny in his own way. But that doesn't mean—"

"You're crushing hard, Feyre!" Mor cut in, her voice dripping with amusement. "Don't try to deny it." Mor stood up and sauntered over to Feyre, gently grasping her shoulders and turning her to face the mirror that hung above their dresser. "Look at yourself, Feys. Your blush says it all."

Feyre's reflection showed her with rosy cheeks, a shy smile playing on her lips, and an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes. She did look different right now, more vibrant and alive than usual. Perhaps she could admit it to herself.

"You've got that dreamy, lovesick look going on," Mor teased, poking Feyre's nose affectionately. "It's adorable, really. And I think you should explore these feelings, see where they lead. Maybe it leads to you become my sister for real."

At that, Feyre burst out laughing, unable to maintain her composure any longer. "You're ridiculous, Mor!" She giggled, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "I barely know the man. It's far too soon to think about... You know... I doubt he even thinks about me. He's probably too busy being rich and managing companies."

Mor grinned, pleased to have gotten such a strong reaction out of her friend. "Far too soon, huh?" She hummed, "Well, maybe you should spend some quality time with him then, get to know him better. Who knows, maybe you'll discover he's your soulmate or something equally dramatic. And then you'll make me an auntie."

She winked playfully, then turned serious for a moment. "But honestly, Feyre, I'm happy for you either way. You deserve someone who makes you happy, and if you feel like Rhys is that person, then that's wonderful." Mor gave Feyre a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "Now, enough about your love life. I'm going to order us pizzas, you put on the movie."

With a nod, Fyere bounced onto her twin bed, reaching for her laptop and charger, scrolling through searching for their guilty pleasure, Christmas movie, something they watched almost every year.

Mor grabbed her phone and began typing away, pausing to glance back at Feyre. "Hey, don't forget to relax tonight, okay? No stressing about work or anything else. Just enjoy the pizza, the movie, and each other's company. We haven't had a proper girls' night in ages. We'll do facemasks and nails, just a pampering sesh."

She blew a kiss and slipped into their shared bathroom, leaving Feyre alone with her thoughts. As the door closed behind Mor, Feyre couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within her - excitement, nervousness, anticipation. She knew she needed to process these new feelings, but for now, she decided to push them aside and focus on the simple pleasure of spending time with her best friend.

#acotar #acotar gift exchange #acotargiftexchange2024 #feysand #pro feysand #feyre x rhys #rhysand x feyre #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #pro feyre archeron #pro feyre #pro rhysand #rhysand #rhysand acotar #feyre #rhys acotar

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alpydk · 7 months ago

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Curtain's Closed

So @auroraesmeraldarose has been leading me down a very dark path recently. One of folds and love muscles...

And then came Tim Downie's Cameo about Gale reading smut. Well, the concept just had to be written, didn't it? So here we have a little mini fanfic about Gale reading smutty fanfic. Quotes have been taken from her fic Professor Dekarios (ch14 for this / highly recommended) - And well, it's a nice evening ending in smut. Enjoy.

Word count - 2061 - M/E - CW - Self Pleasure

Springtime had settled over Waterdeep, the snow having now melted, the flowers in bloom outside the cafe window. He sat with the occult tome, flicking through the worn pages, not particularly interested in the contents. The cortado tasted smooth upon his tongue and the tiramisu he’d ordered had gone down a treat, but his mind, however, kept little to the pages in front of him, nor to the surroundings of the bustling streets that lay beyond the windowpane. Instead, they drifted to the small book buried deep under the stack of research papers, not lost, but selectively hidden out of sight of prying eyes.

It was during his morning at the academy that he’d overheard the conversation between two of his colleagues; the two women giggling and blushing over a recent book that had been going around the female staff. Smut they had described it as in a whisper of a word, afraid that someone might hear it. From what he could tell, it was not a mainstream book, no known author such as Cimber or Ruskettle, but the works of a hobbyist with a passion for those who’d been in the spotlight. He’d tried to hold little attention on the discussion, but the talk of a wizard in a compromising position stuck with him for the following hour as he taught his class. He’d read similar literature about desire in the past; what harm could one bit of curiosity do when it came to smut ?

Professor Karedios – Quite the title and very to the point, thought Gale to himself as he hid in the shadowed back corner of the small muggy bookstore. He felt as if he were a teenager looking for a scantily clad photo of an elf to gaze at in secret, only now he was in his late thirties, grey hairs highlighting his dark locks. Get a grip, Gale. He held the novel within the confines of his loose sleeve, a nervousness that someone might stop him and question him on the contents. Grabbing an occult tome with little regard for what it cost or the subject content, he, at least now, had an excuse to make a purchase of the sultry literature.

The shopkeeper took both the books, and Gale was thankful for the tired, darkened eyes of the vendor which met him. He could detect the faintest hint of red wine, hopefully a remnant of a previous lunch break and not a hidden stash beneath the counter. Either way, it mattered little, as the books and gold were quickly traded between them with little discussion. If he’d been asked, he would have simply claimed that it was for a friend as a humorous gift.

“You think I should wash my beard?” The voice of the assistant came through from a back room interrupting the purchase and Gale’s heart dropped as the books were pulled just a fraction too soon from his grasp.

From behind the desk came the slightly slurred retort, the accent unrecognisable to Gale’s ears. “Yes, I think you should wash it. Then you should shave it off, nail it to a steel plate, and fling it over a rainbow.”

Gale stood confused at the relationship between the two people, simply hoping to take what he’d bought and get out of there. The shopkeeper looked at him with disdain before handing over the books with a sigh, his job now done, the contract of pleasantries over. Gale took the books and crammed them in his bag with a quick nod of thanks before turning as quickly as he could to get away from the disgruntled trader. A note would be made to avoid the premises in the future, unless desperate. As he left the store, his heart pounding in his ears, his bag clutched to his chest tightly, he breathed a sigh of relief that at least the worst part was over.

Now Professor Karedios sat awaiting him, teasing him from his bag. He saw how the lilac cover stuck out from amongst the parchment of a study on Okoth, the outline of the protagonist’s robes calling to him. He’d read the blurb ever so quickly within the store. An alternate universe of a Faerûn Wizard. He was intrigued already, the character on the cover baring a self-indulgent resemblance to himself. He’d not been able to help himself, curiosity always getting the better of him, and he had to find out what lewd secrets were being kept from him. Finishing the coffee, he closed the heavy tome with a thud, no knowledge of what he had just been perusing for so long. All he knew was that he needed a certain mood before he could entertain such a topic as the one that truly held his focus. This would not be a quick night of loneliness within a tent, a potential death sentence hanging above his head; it would be one to enjoy, to savour.

The return to his tower was leisurely, the sun setting, casting long shadows down the narrowed streets, the scent of the sea washing in with the evening tides. He took in each sensation, the sounds of the taverns opening for their trade, the bard weaving sleazy tales from atop the shoulder of Ahghairon’s statue, the passing elf that smiled with a faint blush in his direction. The City of Splendours would forever live up to its name.

His home was empty, he discovered as he closed the oak door and called for Tara, a sly smile emerging upon his lips at the confirmation that he would have the tower all to himself for the night. He took off his cloak, thinking through the steps he would take tonight to squeeze each drop of pleasure from his time alone. He deliberated; was it worth bathing before or after? Though not nearly as tough a worker as his friend Halsin, who toiled through woodland day in/day out, Gale felt the effects of lecturing upon his body, his shoulders especially tensed, and forearms aching slightly from weaving spells consistently in the same manner in order to demonstrate to his pupils. He knew a similar ache would be felt later if he rushed through the planned activities.

He decided at least wine would be an excellent starting point. With a warm red poured, the alluring literature in his hand, the fire burning, and the curtains closed, he laid back in his comfortable armchair with a pleasant sigh.

““Good girl.” He tried to keep his voice calm and light even as her eyes widened, and she bit her lip again in response to his praise. “I’ll see you next time, Helene. Take care.””

Gale smirked at the intense flirting that had been going on between the characters, imagining himself as the professor on the cover. He mouthed the words silently to himself as if in the scene with the young lady, the submissive tone of her character already causing the heat to rise under his collar. The fire, the wine, the book? It mattered little to him, which was the culprit as he flipped ahead a few chapters; the story captivating, but his body growing a little too eager with the aid of the alcohol. He could certainly see the appeal of the type of fiction now, an improvement over the paintings and sketches he’d once glanced at. Now it was left to the unlimited reaches of his imagination, the story acting as a guide to entice his mind and, in turn, his body, hopefully leading him to a more satisfying precipice to tread upon.

“Rayne obliged, taking her face in his hands, leaning in and kissing her lips softly, tenderly.”

Now things were hotting up, he thought to himself, the feeling of his trousers growing a little snugger than comfortable. He didn’t want to rush this, but he was frightfully aware of how much time had passed since his last self-indulgent moment. He untied the drawstring above the leather, slipping the trousers and his underwear down enough to release his already semi hard erection. A sip of the red wine gave him a moment to compose himself before he continued.

“Helene hitched her dress up and, without breaking her mouth from his, threw one leg over both of Rayne’s, coming to rest on top of him, straddling his lap.”

The imagery held itself in his mind. He wanted to move to the next line, but the sight of the redhead straddling his lap in his vision caught him, a slight gasp being released as his hand moved around the base of his cock. He breathed deeply, letting his palm lie against his flesh, his self control remaining to savour the story further.

““Please, Rayne… I need you to touch me. Now.” Her voice was desperate and made Rayne’s already hard cock twitch in his jeans; the thought that she needed him like he needed her drove him wild.”

He felt his own cock twitch in eagerness, the dream of his kisses being laid on her body spurring him on. A massaging rub from base to tip caused his heart to beat that bit quicker, his desires trying to escape him with each word. How easy it would be to let himself go as he would have when he was younger. He closed his eyes and whispered through parted lips. Another slow rub before a few more lines could be read.

““Good girl,” he murmured in her ear as her body tensed, “now come for me, my love.””

Gale saw the teasing and the control before his very eyes. He would have conjured her in front of him if he knew his concentration would not have faltered so quickly, but it was too late to take that chance now. An involuntary moan escaped him, a second where his mind collected itself, returning him to reality, and he questioned if anyone would have heard him. He was no longer in the tents on the road, in the Elfsong Tavern, no Tara to be seen; he was alone and could embrace the sensation.

The build up with the fiction was becoming too much for him as he read on; Rayne’s need to give his partner such pleasure, similar to how he would devote himself to a lover. His hand moved quicker, his hips letting out a light thrust against his fingertips with each stroke. He lost track of the words on the page, his mind becoming clouded by his own arousal. He let out a shaky breath as Helene’s hungered pleas caused his cock to throb in his slowly tightening grip, the imagined form in front of him ready to be taken in full.

“Gently, slowly, he entered her....”

He caught little else of the sentence aside from these few words, knowing Rayne’s and his own motions would be similar in nature. Gale’s muscles tensed at the increasing speed of his hand, its movements now instinctive upon his shaft. He could almost hear Helene’s sounds in his head, her soft cries merging with the unrestrained groans of pleasure he was releasing into his empty study. The wine lay half drunk, the pages of the novel shaking gently in his trembling hand as his concentration faltered. He glanced over the paper in front of him, the words no longer existing to him as he pictured himself standing over her, her walls clenching around him. The book was let go from this trembling hand so he could grip the arm of the chair ready for his impending climax, his eyes closed to the dim light of the study, his cheeks flushed with stimulation.

Fantasy was lost to reality as his orgasm hit, a wave of intensity throughout his mind leaving him shuddering and panting for breath within the confines of his tower. The warmth of his seed flowed freely over his hand and he gave a short chuckle to himself; the evening having ended with the satisfying result he had longed for. Professor Karedios had been very thorough in his devotion to Helene, and Gale knew this would not be the last night that he too would be entertained by the pair’s escapades. Despite this knowledge, though, he still sat with the belief that this night had been one of the best he’d had all year: red wine, curtains closed, and a little smut for company.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #shes created a monster

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kekaki-cupcakes · 1 year ago

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hi! hope you're well!

could you please do one where jason breaks up with Piper because he realises he's in love with reader since he was little?

like reader and jason are the bestest friends with mutual crushes but were too oblivious to do anything about it and the seven have to drop the fact that reader likes him back?

Thanks

heya! I combined this ask with someone who was asking for a Jason x reader songfic with the song Bad Idea Right? by Olivia Rodrigo <3

Romeo and Julieting---Jason Grace x reader [soundtrack: Olivia Rodrigo]

»»————-　★　————-««

“It’s a bad idea, Pipes!”

Piper pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “You are going to go to their cabin, you are going to make them sit down, and you are going to tell them that you have a crush on them, okay? And then you can both have a cutesy little romantic moment or whatever you're supposed to do in a relationship, okay?”

“What do you mean, ‘whatever you’re supposed to do in a relationship’?” Jason asked with a confused frown. He glanced up at Piper who was pacing back and forth as he sat cross legged on her bed, picking at her Olivia rodrigo doona cover. “We were in a relationship, like, five minutes ago.”

Piper cocked her head at him with a raised eyebrow, “that didn’t count and you know it, now go kiss them!”

“Not with tongue though,” Leo added, slurping a juice box as he spun in circles on the chair by Piper’s desk. “At least not the first time, it’d be a bit over the top. I mean unless you’re into that I guess-”

“What are you even doing here?” Jason asked him, not unkindly.

Leo smirked and then became distracted by the make up box on Piper’s desk, pulling out a dark lipstick and uncapping it with wide eyes. He turned back to Jason, “oh I’m watching you fail at both of your relationships.”

Jason frowned, “I just got dumped, why are you making fun of me?”

Leo twisted the base of the lipstick and then proceeded to lick it. He screwed up his face and put it away quickly. “You two forgot you were dating for an entire week, I had to remind you when you started drooling over a certain demigod that you already had a girlfriend.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Jason muttered. Piper chuckled and moved her things away from Leo’s curious grabby hands, quickly taking her eyeliner off before he tried to taste test that as well. “But… but I can’t just walk up to them and be like, ‘hey, you’re my best friend, wanna kiss?’”

Leo blinked. “Why not?”

Jason wasn’t sure how his friend was still alive, but then he remembered that Leo had died already anyway. Piper shrugged, “don’t blame him, he doesn’t know how romance or social situations work.”

“Hey!” Leo hissed, pointing at her with a contour brush he’d managed to find, “that’s homophobic!”

“How can I be homophobic?” Piper screeched, pointing to the rainbow flag pinned up lopsidedly above her bed, next to the hello kitty poster and the giant banner that read ‘i fucked your mum and all i got was this stupid flag’.

Leo just stuck his tongue out at her. Then he turned to Jason. “If you don’t go romeo and juliet your way into a make out session, I will personally turn your stash of musk sticks into soot.”

Piper fiddled with her portable speaker, connecting it to the demigod proof phones Leo had managed to whip up in under three days after he discovered the Pokemon Go map reached CHB. “

“What do you mean Romeo and Juliet?” Jason asked.

“You gotta go up to their window and pretend it’s a balcony, Grace,” Piper said. SHe looked away from Olivia Rodrigo’s spotify and to the window. “It’s even raining outside. Perfect.”

Jason crossed his arms stubbornly, “I can think of a million ways it could go wrong.”

“Well I can’t,” Leo said as he started curling his eyelashes. The speaker next to him skipped a few beats and staticked it’ way through the music for a moment. Piper grinned.

“It’s a bad idea! I’m not doing it!”

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

»»————-　★　————-««

Jason sucked in a breath and shut the Aphrodite cabin door behind him, hitching up his checked purple pajama pants and plodding through the dirt between the cabins lined up.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Even if he didn’t work up the courage to tell you how pretty he thought your eyes were when you smiled and how endearing it was that you wrapped and arm around his shoulders every time you were walking together and how that thing you did with your tongue on your lip drove him crazy, he’d still get to see you. So technically he was just visiting his best friend, what was wrong with that?

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Maybe the fact that if said best friend asked to kiss him Jason wouldn’t even hesitate.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

»»————-　★　————-««

You pulled your curtains shut and waited for your younger siblings to finish putting all of their teddies to bed before the lamps were clicked off. After a few minutes, only the snores of your cabin mates and the rain on the roof were audible.

Hypnos dragged away everyone else in your cabin quickly, but you lay awake staring at the roof, your doona pulled up to your chin. A few polaroids were stuck to the walls next to your head, and the axolotl Squishmellow Leo had bought you for your birthday was in bed with you. You hugged it to your chest and shuffled around, trying to get to sleep.

You ignored the first tap at your window, which was probably just a Harpy checking everyone was tucked into their beds and not planning to sneak out.

The second one however, roused you from the warmth of the blanket Annabeth had crocheted as she discovered her skills with weaving. You paused in front of the window, sitting cross legged on your pillow. Whoever it was outside tapped again, so you pulled back the curtains and peeked out with narrowed eyes.

A grin spread across your face before you could help it, and you heaved the frame up, poking your head out into the night to whisper shout. “What are you doing dude? It’s pouring!”

Jason blinked up at you with soggy hair and muddy pajamas. He plodded through the puddles up to your window. Luckily he was tall enough that you were eye level when he hopped onto a little boulder. “Um…”

“Gimme a second,” you muttered, and crawled out of bed to the shoe rack by the door. Avoiding the floorboards you knew would creak, you hopped back into bed and slid the pink spotty umbrella through the window, opening it up above Jason.

He smiled, the scar on his lip twisting. You restrained yourself from reaching out to touch it and instead held the umbrella for him. “Is there a reason you’re Romeo and Julieting?”

Jason eyes were wide and pale blue, like the sky behind a thin veil of clouds. “How am i the only one who- never mind. Uhm… I need to tell you something.

The rain made it hard for you to hear whatever your best friend was muttering, so you beckoned him closer with a confused smile, “yeah? Did you forget how to use the toaster again? Because honestly I don’t know why you’re opposed to Leo just-”

“Because of hygiene, for one,” Jason started, “but that’s not why I’m here.”

You gave him a second to think, not used to the genuinely fearful look on his face dripping with rain you hoped wouldn’t turn to tears. You didn’t really know where this was going.

He took a deep breath, his fingers curling around your window sill. “If this goes wrong, please blame Leo and Piper.”

“I could blame them for anything, and I’d be right.”

Jason ducked his head and spoke to the ground. “I kind of… really like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, actually. I didn’t realize for a while, but it’s sort of…Yeah. It’s you.”

So it wouldn’t be Jason crying, you realized. It would be you.

You took a second to try that deep breathing thing someone had told you about, and smoothed out the front of your mickey mouse pajama shirt, blinking rapidly. The reality hadn’t really set it, you were in a sort of shocked state, so you tried to talk before you burst into tears.

“Uhm,” you said weakly. “I think you might’ve forgotten about your girlfriend again, Jase.”

He went pale. Then he started shaking his head like a wet dog, which he sort of was, really. “No, no not like that. I mean, yeah I like you like that, wait- okay. Piper broke up with me, like five minutes ago, and-”

You took another deep breath and then handed Jason the umbrella. He took it with a lost expression, and you shut your window quickly, breaths turning as shaky as your hands. You were your childhood crushes rebound. You sort of wished you hadn’t opened that window, actually.

Jason tapped again, a lot quicker this time, and urgent.

Ignoring him was the obvious choice, but that felt too kind. You yanked open the curtains again and then the glass, sticking your head out with a sharp glare. “I will not be your rebound-”

“She broke up with me because of you.” Jason blurted as soon as he realized you could hear him.

He paused then, and you took in the holy depressing sight that was Jason Grace in dirty pajamas standing outside your window in the middle of the night, rain and tears dripping down his cheeks. “Well, not completely. We never really liked each other, it was all because of Hera, really. We just, well… neither of us could be bothered to figure out our feelings so we stayed together.”

Jason looked down at the ugg boots covered in grass and soil he was wearing. You were pretty sure they were Drew’s. “Apparently she got sick of me pining over you, so she dumped me so that they could make me come here and well, yeah, tell you.”

You blinked in shock for probably too long.

“I don’t wanna make you do anything, and you don't have to say anything, ever, actually.” Jason said quickly, with only honesty on his cute face. “You don’t have to keep being my friend, if you don’t want to, but I won't be weird, I promise. We can pretend this didn’t actually happen. I just sort of wanted to tell you, so I didn't have to hide it forever, I guess.”

“They?” You asked.

Jason glared in the direction of the Aphrodite cabin. He spoke in a hollow voice. “It was an ambush. There were no survivors.”

You grinned, and then reached out into the pouring rain and held the umbrella, your hand over his. Jason whipped around with red cheeks and a frozen expression. “Uh-”

“Jason,” you began softly. “Did you want to Romeo and Juliet me?”

He blinked.

“That means come here so I can kiss you,” You muttered, and dragged the son of Jupiter closer by the front of his shirt. Jason’s eyes widened and he made a shocked little sound.

He hopped back onto the boulder and reached up to your window sill though. His eyes were that bit lower than your own in that way you knew exactly what he was thinking and of course you’d oblige.

“Just c’mere,” you whispered, trying to hold in your smile. Jason leant forward eagerly, and you held the umbrella in one hand tightly, the other sliding up to cup his jaw. You’d wondered what the scar on Jason’s lip felt like.

Turned out it was just as soft as the rest of him.

You tilted your head as heat seemed to build in your veins, making your head light. You couldn’t help but pull him closer, if that was even possible, and kissed him firmly. He made another odd sound and opened his mouth slowly.

From what you’d heard from your older siblings, kissing was awesome. You’d always thought it sounded a bit gross though, I mean, someone elses mouth? Their tongue?

This badly timed badly worded fucking adorbale boy in front of you proved that theory wrong. Jason threaded his fingers through your own and you leaned further out the window, drawing him back in and pressing your mouth deeper into his own, lungs burning.

“Oh my gods,” Jason croaked, opening his eyes a little when you finally pulled away, gasping for air and trying to straighten out your thoughts.

“Oh my gods,” you agreed, slipping your hand around the back of his neck and holding him close, fingers fiddling with the baby hairs there. Jason grinned, his cheeks as red as his lips.

“Oh my gods! Go Jason!”

You both turned to see Piper and Leo cheering from behind another cabin, holding a barbie umbrella between them.

Jason blinked at them, and then turned to you, “I told you, it was an ambush.”

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #jasongrace #Jason Grace x reader #Jason Grace x you #Jason face #piper mclean #Leo valdez

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octuscle · 1 year ago

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Hotel room - Blue

Frederik hated Berlin. Chaotic. Dirty. Politically far left. Sexually promiscuous. And now it was Christopher Street Day. The city overflowed with fags running half-naked and some even completely naked through the city. Frederik couldn't wait until he was back in Munich. He was looking forward to the comfort of first class on the ICE train he was about to board. The platform at Berlin's main train station was crowded. It was Friday evening. Crowds of people were leaving, crowds of people were flooding the city. Thank God his train was leaving in ten minutes.

"Dear passengers, due to a technical defect in two signal boxes, rail traffic at Berlin Central Station is suspended for a short time. Trains in the direction of Hanover will run today only from and to Berlin Spandau. Train services in the direction of Hamburg and Munich will be completely suspended until further notice. We ask for your understanding."

There was a second of shock on the platform. Then crowds of people started moving frantically, storming rental car counters and the cab stand. People made phone calls or frantically tried to book flights on their cell phones. Frederik traveled a lot on business. He stayed in at least three different beds during the week. He knew what this situation meant: Find a hotel bed! Now! Because you won't get out of this juggernaut before morning. He had quickly phoned his regular hotels. No chance. All that was left were the hotel chains where he had gold or platinum status. After fifteen minutes, he had called all the four- and five-star hotels that came into consideration. Finally, he was recommended a hotel where, according to the internal system, there was still a room available. That would have been blocked for him. A three-star hotel near KaDeWe and Kurfürstendamm. Okay, better than nothing. There were no more cabs.

Frederik hated public transportation. His mood was correspondingly bad as he stood in the lobby of the hotel. Everything was decorated in rainbow colors. In front of him, a group of beefcakes in leather gear were just checking in. Behind him stood a skinhead, under whose bomber jacket a latex shirt shiny emphasized his six-pack. Frederik felt uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. And when he was told that the room was wrongly blocked for him, his collar burst. He demanded this room, after all he was a Platinum customer and had a right to a room. The receptionist tried to explain to him that the guest who had been staying in the room had actually moved out. However, it was only because he had obviously ended up in the hospital with a bit much alcohol in his blood. A friend had just picked up the clothes and paid the bill, but housekeeping hadn't had a chance to do the room yet. And there would be no one else in the house at that time of day. However, given his status, they would fix it up first thing in the morning, and he could move into it at 08:00.

From behind the skinhead came forward. He had quite a suit fetish, Frederik was very welcome to spend the night with him. "Listen," Frederik pleaded with the gentleman at the front desk. "I don't care about the condition of the room. I just want my own bed and my own bathroom." After promising not to complain about anything, he got the door card. And Frederik hurried to get out of this den of iniquity.

The bed was not made. There were knotted condoms and tissues on the floor. There were still clothes in the closet that had been overlooked. Shower gel was still in the shower and there was still a razor. It smelled of sweat and sweetish perfume. Frederik didn't care about anything. He looked again after the status of the German Rail. Supposedly, trains should start running again at 07:00 in the morning. He set the alarm clock in his cell phone to 06:00, undressed and hung his clothes neatly in the closet. With a used towel, he wiped the shower, toilet and washstand. And fortunately, there was still a clean towel left for him to use. He lay down on the bed. The pillow smelled of the sweetish perfume. Slowly, he calmed down. And fell asleep.

At 04:00 his cell phone woke him up. He had received a new message. "Sweetie, how are you". And there were at least two dozen more messages and missed calls. What the hell!!! Darn it! Had he been drinking yesterday? Actually, no. But somehow he had a hangover. A glass of water might help. He went into the bathroom and ran the cold water and drank straight from the tap. Yes, that felt good. He washed his face with cold water and looked in the mirror.

FUUUCK! Frederik was 42 years old. He had once been athletic, but lately he had let himself go quite a bit. As a self-employed management consultant, he earned a lot of money and made a point of maintaining a well-groomed, discreet and conservative appearance. But what was that in the mirror!?!?!?!?

Shit, Freddy had really drunk a lot after arriving in Berlin yesterday. For a short time he had gone black before his eyes. But now it worked again. And in the name of Cher, Bette Midler and Zarah Leander: He wasn't here to sleep it off. Freddy put on his one-million-dollar smile and answered the last message with a selfie. And the subtext: "Honey Bear, I had to freshen up for a minute. Where are you?"

He quickly swapped the baggy shorts go his pink glitter hot pants, put on matching sneakers and pink chest harness and left the room. He didn't get far. In the elevator he met a skinhead whose upper body was in a shiny latex shirt. He was no longer completely sober. But he obviously thought Freddy was hot. And somehow the latex made Freddy horny. One blowjob more or less didn't matter anymore. His friends could wait a few more minutes for him.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #male transformation #muscle transformation #age reduction

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siremasterlawrence · 5 months ago

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Corporate Take Over

Jon Allen Michael Skarsgard Transportation Corporation Is worldwide renowned love and inspirational for this Corp who gives much back to the world and rare occasion is now being hashed out by his family after the death of a patriarch.The funeral is coming to a conclusion in a matters of moments this entire family will learn their faith and place in the world as I know that I own permanently and for all his life they have no choice but to obey every command I make. As the lawyer walks straight in to the room carefully sitting behind the desk as he drops the folder on to the desk and proceeds to explain the process of the will being signed over to me. Correctly so they are all in shock even though something more sinister is about to occur before they could related it and the needles pop into their neck as they all go blank and fall to the floor.

Frank Skarsgard is the eldest of the six kids of the former patriarch sitting still in a empty mindless state of mind as he approach him excruciatingly slow placing hand on to his shoulder because I whisper into his ears a single few world to trigger him. His mind slowly closes around him clouding him up as he wakes up standing by his car in a expensive leather brown jacket covering a three buttoned polo sweater and a tight blue jeans wrap onto his body hugging so tightly.He does not know why but he feels like he is supposed to be standing up infront of the mansion that use to belong to his family but now oh belongs to the man he works for now and he is happy to serve him without any question due to his devotion.

“Where is this motherfucker? He took my life some how.”

“Looking for me muscled pussy boi”

“Well I am here for work”

“Ok tough guy”

“Go inside and rip your clothes “

“Leave your under pants on”

“Yes Master”

“Leave your article of clothing on the table”

“Put these work clothes on”

“What the shit are these ?..”

“Get your blue collar ass do work “

“Or would you rather wreck your pretty clothes?”

“You are a ass”

“No! Your all ass”

“Ouch!”

“What pussy?”

“Don’t slap me so hard”

“I’ll do as I wish “

Frank can hear his phone ringing as his eyes roll back into the socket and he obediently answers the call then lets me know this his brother is arriving in the back of the home instructed and stripping naked as he exits the car awaiting by the pool as he looks in disgust of it all except he can’t stop staring at the clock on the wall. The more he stares the dial on the wall begins to spin round and round pulling him in closer till he walks into a chair slow he removes his clothes picking up and he swimming trunks from the chair as he slips them on happily and picks up the Swimming pool skimmer as he cleans up the pool area.

“I am the pool boi”

“I must do as he says “

“I clean “

“I love to “

“Live to “

“He is Master”

“Wait what?”

“You have fallen for me”

“Yes my King”

“Show off your pussy”

“God! You are damn fine”

“Oh! Thank you sir”

“Mind if I have some fun”

“Please sir”

“Oooooh Ggggooooddddd”

“Yyyyeeesss sssiiirrr”

“Who are you?”

“Your sweet, sexy and beautiful pussy boi”

His second and third youngest bois arrive ted to my new mansion in to the hottest fiery hot, raging red and absolutely beautiful and epic car I have ever seen speeding in to the side entrance blasting music so loud for all to hear.The car parks as a voice announces to them they must go to the pill house with the map going on fire and the alert system blaring as they walk into the pool house and the locks automatically switch on causing the doors to glow brightly. Every glass clearing form windows, mirrors, television, clear roof top, and any other sexy glass surface comes through shooting into both men eyes hitting him head on as he fell back to the floor as he is shook to the core in craziness.In something out of this world appears into the room raining down on him with a three dimensional man standing in the middle of the room and snaps his fingers as a rainbow blows into the room blinding him completely right now. The mind numbs right to their core as they are spinning out

of the control slamming both of guys into the wall forcibly making them beg and plead for me to help them as their minds are finally subjected to my power.

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“I—I”

“Don’t know “

“Do you love me?”

“Nnnnooo”

“Yes”

“Obviously you do”

“Yes Master”

“I can see your mind going blank”

“Follow me “

“Strip it off strip it off”

“Fffuuuccckkk”

“I love you “

“I love you both”

“You are my puppets”

“Succumb to my will”

“Madly in love with me”

“Crave me in all ways “

The end

#frank grillo #jon bernthal #richard madden #kit harington #alexander skarsgard #joel kinnaman

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wooataes · 1 year ago

Text

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Three)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: angst, Hanahaki!AU, nothing too bad for this chapter, reader is emotionally stunted sometimes 💀

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: thank you guys so much for your patience on this! There’s definitely going to be another part coming fairly soon, as I already have it pre-written so expect the next part in the next coming week or so! 💜

- Tae 🥰💜

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Request to join my taglist here!

The next time Jihoon sees you since the cafeteria fiasco, it is a week later in your shared Film Studies class on a Friday afternoon. To his credit, he never noticed that you were actually in his class, but he can’t help but feel a little guilty that you’ve been near so many times and he’s never cared enough to notice anyone else besides himself.

He’s sitting close to the front of the classroom as you rush into the room as soon as the warning bell rings. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as your eyes trail over the tables for a free seat. Your cheeks are flushed a gentle pink with your hair pulled back in 2 braids tied at the with pastel purple ribbons, with a purple cropped t-shirt to match under a pair of denim overalls. Jihoon internally winces as he notices the only free seat in the room is beside him, around the exact same time as you notice as well. Without looking directly at you, Jihoon takes his backpack off the free chair and places it by his feet, leaving it free for you. You pause for a moment before slowly sitting down beside your soulmate, cautiously, as if you’re afraid that he would get up and run if you got too close.

“Sorry,” is the only word you murmur to your soulmate as you pull out your laptop and workbook in front of you. Jihoon responds with a soft, “it’s okay,” before looking up at the work board at the front of the room, trying his hardest to ignore your presence next to him, and the unwelcome feeling of anxiety and guilt swirling inside his stomach.

Most of the class goes off without a hitch, albeit Jihoon’s curiosity getting the better of him a few times, causing him to glance at you from his peripheral vision. He notices your pastel pink pen in your hand - huh, interesting. You’re left-handed -, scribbling down notes with a pretty pastel rainbow aesthetic and swirly handwriting. He also spots something on your wrist, a heart shaped red tattoo. On closer inspection, he realizes the heart is coloured in red with black polka dots and a little head at the pointy end - a Love Bug. Before you can look over to him, as if feeling his eyes on you, Jihoon turns his head back to the board at the front. If he was honest with himself, he doesn’t remember a single thing that has happened so far during this whole class; too conscious of his heartbroken soulmate beside him, your dull but constant pain running through him. He thinks he is safe until 5 minutes before class finishes, when Professor Kim announces what Jihoon thinks is the worst outcome that could happen.

“For your final project for the semester, I’m assigning a project to be completed in pairs,” he begins, writing up on the board in front of him. “You will work together to study a film of your choice; it can be any film you want. You need to work with your partner to write out a presentation on a conflict presented in the film and an opinion that others wouldn’t have thought of. Seems simple enough, right?” When the class all hum and murmur in agreement, Professor Kim’s next words make Jihoon want to disappear. “The partner you will work with will be your desk mate. Presentations will be at the end of the semester. If you have any queries please feel free to contact me outside of class.”

Jihoon nervously, for the first time since class had begun, turns his body towards you, his deskmate, his soulmate, and now his project partner for the rest of the semester. You’re pale, and dread runs through your bodies. When you turn to face him, your soulmate feels even worse when you begin to babble.

“I-I’m sorry, Jihoon. If I wasn’t late, I wouldn’t have been made to sit beside you, and you wouldn’t have had to be made to deal with me for this project.” You’re scrambling to put your belongings into your backpack as the bell signals for the end of class and the day. “I will ask Professor Kim for a switch, or I will do this project on my own so you don’t have to-”

“You don’t have to do that.” Jihoon interrupts you, and you finally pause to look back at him, confusion all over your face.

“But-”

“It’s fine, it can’t be helped. I’m not mad, y’know, if that’s what you think.” He looks away again, packing his own backpack. “I’m not going to, like, hold it against you? We’re in the same class, it’s not a big deal and bound to happen eventually.” He’s rambling now too, he realizes. “And we’re adults, we can keep this professional, right?”

You nod your head quickly. “Yeah, of course.” When Jihoon nods back in response, you nervously hold your backpack in your arms. “Umm, if you want to, we can study at mine. Soonyoung, Seokmin, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Jun and Seungkwan are coming over tonight for a movie night and sleeping over for Soonyoung’s birthday. We could get a rough idea on what we want to study.” You’re looking everywhere but at Jihoon, all the other classmates leaving the classroom in their respective pairs, seemingly discussing the project. “I know you live with the guys and, of course, Ji-ah is invited too!” You insist quickly, Jihoon raising his eyebrows at you in surprise. “You know what, forget I asked.” You laugh awkwardly, slipping your arms through the loops on your backpack. “Just let me know when you want to..”

“Movie night sounds great.” He stops you once more, feeling the bubble of anxiety that was rising up through your body disperse. “Ji-ah is with her family for the weekend, and I was going to be at home alone anyway. And we both know what Soonyoung is like if someone misses his birthday.” He deadpans, and is surprised when you let out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You hum, before giving him one final nod. “Well, it starts at 7, but you can come over whenever and we can brainstorm for a bit before everyone gets there?” You offer, and he nods at you. “Okay, see you soon.” You wave at him before turning on your heel and quickly making your way outside of the classroom and also the campus. Jihoon doesn’t know if it’s a good idea or not, but he knew he wouldn’t miss his best friend’s birthday.

Jihoon arrives at your home at 5:30, and before he can even knock, he is greeted by Kwon Soonyoung suffocating him into a bone-crushing hug.

“I KNEW YOU’D COME, JIHOON-AH!” Soonyoung cooed loudly, suffocating his friend's face into his chest, as said friend aggressively flails his arms as he tries to get the overgrown tiger off him.

“Get… off…” Jihoon whines, shoving him off with pink cheeks.

“I knew you loved me.” Soonyoung smirks as he steps aside, letting your soulmate inside. “But you know everyone is not going to be here until 7, right? Why are you here so early?”

“He’s here for me, Soonie!” You yell from the top of the staircase. Your best friend raises his eyebrow questioningly, and before Jihoon can answer, you’re leaning against the railing of the staircase. “We have a project for Film Studies, getting a head start.”

“Nuh-uh!” Soonyoung frowns, taking Jihoon’s overnight bag from him and throwing it into the spare bedroom. “It’s my birthday, and you’re not STUDYING. You have the whole semester to get that shit done, one more night isn’t going to hurt!”

Jihoon watches you lean your head back and let out an audible groan. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Seungcheol emerges from the kitchen with Jeonghan behind him, both wearing aprons. “We’re making the snacks for tonight, and you are on snack duty with us while the guests play games until everyone arrives. Come on, Bug!”

You whine loudly, and Jihoon is amused when you fall limp at the top of the stairs, Jeonghan immediately starting to flail and rush up the stairs to you.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not getting out of this!” He scolds playfully, taking your limp body and scooping you up bridal style.

“Noooooo…” you groan as Jeonghan carries you down the stairs and takes you to the kitchen.

“Come on, Jihoon-ah!” Soonyoung grins, taking his arm and dragging him to the living room, where Seokmin, Jun and Wonwoo are setting up beanbags and inflatable mattresses on the floor in front of the couches. “We’re almost done setting everything up.

“Oh, you made it after all!” Wonwoo smiles at his housemate, who only nods slowly and sinks down onto one of the couches to watch the others throw bundles of blankets onto the mattresses before joining him.

Jihoon can vaguely hear you and your brother nagging at each other and the various sounds of clanging pans mixed with Jeonghan’s amused laughs for the next hour or so from the kitchen as Soonyoung and the boys all take turns playing some games on the TV, and after a lull in conversation, Jihoon can’t help but ask: “are they always like this?”

“Who, hyung and Y/N?” Seokmin asks as Junhui groans at Wonwoo, who just killed his character. “I think Jeonghannie-hyung eggs them on a bit… Y/N hasn’t really been the same since a few weeks ago, so I think this is Cheol-hyung’s way of trying to get her back out of her shell a bit, y’know?”

“She’ll be fine.” Soonyoung insists, frowning to himself. “She’ll get there eventually, we just have to be there for her when she needs it. I don’t know how she is going to go when Seungkwan gets here tonight though.”

Seungkwan? Jihoon thought, eyebrows furrowed. Besides Soonyoung and Seokmin, he’s the only other person Y/N is super close with. What’s happened?

“You really should have told her, babe.” Seokmin whispers harshly, nudging his soulmate’s side.

“And make her hate herself all over again? It kills me enough to see her the way she is now.”

“What’s happened with Seungkwan?” Junhui raises his eyebrow.

The doorbell saves the birthday boy from having to answer the lingering question, but that relief is short-lived when he hears the new voice that echoes through the house.

“Hi guys!” Seungkwan’s chirpy voice resounds, and before Soonyoung and Seokmin can get to him, you’re faster.

“Seungkwannie!” You beam, rushing from the kitchen to greet your close friend, and Jihoon sees you rush down the hallway. “Thank god you’re here, I need my movie cuddle buddy tonight- oh!”

You stop as quick as you had started, pausing at the sight of another person beside Seungkwan, a person you recognize as a regular member of the set crew in the college musicals, a man you interact with quite often - Chwe Hansol.

“Hansol! Hey!” You give a small smile as your brother, best friend and their soulmates slowly make their way to the entrance of the house, Jihoon and his housemates watching from a distance. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Y/N-ie..” Seungkwan nervously eyes you, Hansol smiling softly at you.

“Hey. Thanks for inviting me to come along, guys.” He squeezes Seungkwan’s hand in his, causing you to stare at their intertwined hands. “It’s a bit daunting meeting your soulmate’s friends all in one hit properly, so I really appreciate being able to meet you all together.”

“Hansol-ah, I’ll give you a tour of the house and where you’ll be sleeping tonight!” Seokmin intervenes, and you watch as Seungkwan gives him a reassuring nod. Hansol nods in reply, easily slipping past you to follow Seokmin’s lead to show him around, to give you time to talk to Seungkwan.

Uh oh. Jihoon can feel it. The confusion running through your body as you eye your friend, who can’t even look you in the eye. The confusion slowly begins to turn into hurt as Seungkwan takes a slow breath.

“Soulmate?” You ask weakly, days and hours of work that had taken to build your internal wall of emotions beginning to crumble within seconds.

“Uh.. yeah..” Seungkwan bites his lip. “I found out last week.”

After a beat of silence, you smile. “I’m happy for you, Kwan-ah.” Jihoon’s eyebrows raise once more, as well as the little crowd that was around you.

“You’re… Happy for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Your soulmate, Kwan-ah, that's incredible.” You take his hands, squeezing them tightly as he breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

“Bug, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he stammers now. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, especially since everything with you and-”

“Don’t be sorry,” you smile again, but Jihoon can feel it, you’re falling apart bit by bit. “I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s one of the biggest moments of your life, and I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me. I’ll just miss my movie buddy.” You laugh dryly.

“Oh? I’ll still be here for you to cuddle, silly,” he insisted, but you let go of his hands and shake your head quickly.

“No. I can’t get in the way of you and your soulmate, I wouldn’t do that. I respect your relationship too much to jeopardize it in any way.”

“Huh?” Seungkwan tilts his head. “How would you be-?”

“I-It’s getting closer until movie night begins, I got to go get changed.” You nod your head quickly, spinning on your heel and rushing up the stairs, ignoring Seungcheol and Seungkwan’s calls for you as you close your door shut tight behind you.

Jihoon winces as soon as the door is shut, feeling the dam break inside him as you silently begin to weep on the other side of your door. You’re dead silent so no one can hear, only letting out the occasional sniffle as you rummage through your closet to find some pajamas to wear for the slumber party.

“Hyung, I don’t understand.” Seungkwan frowns at Cheol, who is running his hands through his hair, exasperated. “Why does she think that she will jeopardize my relationship with Sol?”

“Don’t take it personally.” Your brother sighs. “She has got it in her mind that she can’t be platonically intimate with anybody who has a soulmate.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s what happened with our parents. Our father left his soulmate, our mother for another woman. She saw what it did to our mother, so she decided she would never ever give anything more than a quick hug to any of her friends who have soulmates. She would never want to ruin someone’s relationship like that for anything. She doesn’t want to be like our shitty excuse of a Dad.” Seungcheol looks conflicted, deep in thought as he speaks.

“Give her time.” Jeonghan smiles, patting your friend’s back as he looks towards your closed door at the top of the stairs. “She wouldn’t miss Soonyoungie’s birthday for the world.”

Jihoon frowns deeply to himself on the couch, trying to push your sadness down as his mind goes into overdrive, the voices of the others being drowned out by his own thoughts.

Why would you purposely hurt and isolate yourself like this? He hates as much skinship as the next person, but seeing how you act with your other friends, he can tell you’re torturing yourself by this unspoken rule you’ve created for no one to follow but you.

Every new thing Jihoon learns about you sends him deeper into a confusing hole of thoughts and questions he’s begging to ask you, but he’s nowhere near that close to you yet to be able to ask.

Will he ever be close to you?

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

@cinnamoroxie @enhacolor @mikachu-chu @jojowantstocry @changbinisms @scarlet789 @i-dont-give-a-fok @im-gemmy @shookyungsoo @ametheyistheart @friendlywraith @kawennote09 @coupddeongie @sunooschubbycheeks @zgzgzh @mar-627 @side-angel @kuleo26 @deltamoon666 @snowgirlfallen @lixiel0ver @phenomenalgirl9 @weebotakuboy

#seventeen woozi #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #woozi #woozi x reader #Lee Jihoon #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen au #seventeen x reader #woozi Angst #Lee Jihoon angst #Jihoon x reader

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

Royal Pain Part 25

I make two promises about the end of this chapter. It's not what it looks likes, and that it WILL be fixed in the next chapter.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24

****

Steve was keeping busy. He was! Running a shop full time and his apprentices were only half way through their training, he didn’t have time to moon over Eddie.

But as much as he wanted to lie to himself he knew that there were too many times that he spent checking his phone for text messages, voicemails, and IG DMs. It was lame. And worse?

He had to watch this.

Vickie walked up to Robin. “Hey, babe. Can you show me how to do the multiple scheduling again? The time I tried, I accidentally scheduled all the way out to the year 3025. Which really, really shouldn’t be possible.”

Robin giggled. “I think they had to put in an end date and went as obscene as possible thinking that they wouldn’t have to update it in their life time.”

Vickie blushed and ran her hand up and down Robin’s arm. “Thanks for showing me again.”

Robin nearly fell out of the chair. Vickie quickly grabbed her and barely managed to prevent her from taking a nosedive.

“Right,” Robin said, ducking her head to hide her flush of embarrassment, she showed Vickie how to do the scheduling again.

He turned to Chrissy. “Please save me from this disaster, Duchess. It’s killing me.”

“You wish is my command, my liege,” she purred and stalked toward the reception desk.

Her outfit was barely this side of professional, but considering what other artist wore in their shops, he couldn’t call her out on it. It was pretty much the preppy pastel version of those other shops. Tight, light blue, skinny jeans with a baby blue tank top and white suede jacket, draped artfully on her elbows to show off her tattoos.

She leaned over the desk giving Robin and Vickie an eyeful of her perky breasts. She reached over and curled one of Robin’s loose strands of hair around her finger. Robin turned absolutely red.

‘You coming to Club Rainbow tonight?” Chrissy simpered, using the easier to say nickname for the Rainbow High Club.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, glancing over at Steve and then back to her. “With E–with it being so quiet lately, I figured we weren’t going.”

Chrissy smiled. “I’m always down for bright lights, pumping music, free flowing booze, and...” she leaned closer, “pretty girls.”

If Robin had been red before she positively scarlet now.

Chrissy twisted so she was leaning back on the desk. She flicked a long nailed finger under Vickie’s chin. “How about you, green-eyed girl? You coming, too?”

Everyone’s jaws dropped.

But it worked.

Suddenly Robin was tripping over her feet to say that of course she was going clubbing tonight, that of course she was. And that she was clearly out of her head to even think to stay home.

“Good,” she said, tilting her head back to look at Robin upside down. “Now convince your boy over there to join us.”

Steve gasped. “Traitor!”

Chrissy laughed. “Come on, Steve, you need to get out and feel the earth move under your feet for a night!”

His phone rang and suddenly his was on his feet in an instant.

“Hey, Eds...”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed into the phone. “You sound tired, you okay?”

“No, I’m good.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“We were thinking of going to the club tonight,” he murmured. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Go, have fun, babe,” Eddie said. “You deserve it.”

“I guess.”

“Hey, while I’m thinking about it,” Eddie said nervously. “Did you find someone to fill my tattoo slot?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t,” Steve replied, pained. “I wouldn’t just have someone come in and fill your spot, Eds. That’s your three hour block of time, because you’re coming back, right?”

“Of course, I am, Stevie,” Eddie said gently. “I just worry about you losing money you could be making.”

“I know it’s twelve hours I could be making more money, I know that. It’s just–”

“Hey, babe,” Eddie said. “I’m being rushed out the door. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“No, of course. Miss you lots.”

“Miss you more.”

He hung up feeling worse than before he got the call. It had only been three days, but he felt his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

He walked back to the reception area, rubbing the end of his nose. He cleared his throat. “You guys go on ahead without me tonight. I don’t feel so good.”

The three girls shared glances but nodded.

Argyle took a deep breath. “Why don’t Jonathan and I come over with pizza while the girls go to the club?”

Erica came out her room with a grin. “Did someone say club?”

Chrissy cheered. “Hell yeah, girlie. We are going to have so much fun.”

Steve thought about the offer while the girls made plans, then nodded. It was better than being alone and he was really starting to like Jonathan now that he had broken it off with Nancy.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

The entire shop breathed a sigh of relief.

The club would have been better with its loud music, lots of people, and free flowing beer, but pizza night with the guys was good, too.

“Wait!” Steve said, his brain catching up through his fog of misery. “Erica is only eighteen!”

“Buzzkill.”

Sunday was awful. Dustin and Suzy kept gushing about how cool it was that they knew someone who was playing with Metallica.

He was thankful when his phone rang. He walked out to the front porch to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid,” came the warm voice on the other end of the line.

“Wayne?” Steve looked at the time on his phone. It was a little after seven.

“I figured since we were both missing our boy, I’d give you a call.”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Steve murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but yeah I guess he can’t call you if he’s on stage.”

“This is alright, yeah?”

“No, course it’s okay, I appreciate you thinking about me.”

“How have you been holding up?”

“It’s only been four fucking days and it’s liking I’m missing a limb. I can’t imagine what you felt when he moved to Indy.”

“That’s different,” Wayne murmured, “I knew it was coming. This was sprung on ya, it was bound to feel like shit. What’s eating ya?”

“God, I don’t even know. It’s just when we were finding our feet, the rug got pulled out from under us and I feel like I’m the only one that fell on my ass. And I know that’s not fair to Eddie. I get to live my dream, but he’s not allowed to live his? What kind of shit boyfriend would I be?”

“A hurt one,” Wayne muttered. “I always tell Ed when he gets like this he has two choices with me. You do all the talking and I listen. Or I do all the talking and you let my voice wash over you like a warm, comforting blanket.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks and he hurried to scrub them away.

“You talk, I just need a kind voice on the end of the line.”

Steve listened to him talk about the book club and a used car he bought recently when his truck finally gave up the ghost. He let the warm slow Southern drawl just wash over him and soothe his soul.

Finally Wayne ran out of things to talk about, but by then Steve was feeling better and they said their goodbyes.

And somewhere in Hawkins Wayne stood his kitchen with tears of his own streaming down his face, missing both of his boys.

Steve’s heart leapt every time he got a call, a text, a voicemail. He tried not to sound disappointed when it wasn’t Eddie. He made doubly sure he didn’t sound like that when Wayne called. They were both missing Eddie and he wasn’t about to take it out on him.

Robin was getting more and more concerned. She knew that he wasn’t sleeping, that he was barely eating enough to function and was pretty much living off Monsters and coffees too large to be sane.

She really got concerned when he ordered a six shot espresso and downed it in one gulp.

“Steve...” she said warningly.

“I took it slow like everyone wanted,” he spat out bitterly. “I respected his space and his pace. I rescued him from his evil ex. I dotted all the Is and crossed all the Ts and I’m stuck here wondering if he’s going to find someone better than me. Someone who likes metal, not just go to his concert because he’s the playing. That he’ll find another tattoo artist. A better one. One that will really let him fly. That he’ll pack up and move to LA and I’ll be here with a broken heart and shop I will learn to resent.”

“Oh.” Because what else could she even say to that. Because sure, he could do what Max did and just follow Eddie to LA, but he couldn’t do it immediately. He still had at least four months mentoring Chrissy and Argyle. Eight months on the outside. And by then what would be the point of moving out there.

If Steve was like this after a week, six months would kill him.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen,” Robin said. “You just have to trust him to talk to you and do what’s best for both you. How has he sounded when he calls?”

Steve frowned for a moment. “I guess like me, happy to hear my voice, sad that we’re apart. But there is this tiredness underneath and a hint of anger.”

“At you?” she asked, putting her arm around him.

He shrugged. “I don’t think so, but he won’t talk to me about it.”

“He probably doesn’t know how to say it,” she said wisely. “Just give him time.”

Steve nodded.

Steve made the first impulsive decision he’d made since deciding to be Hop’s apprentice.

He was going to get a tattoo. He made the appointment with Hop and calmly explained what he wanted and where.

Hop leveled him with a glare. “You sure you want this? You’re an artist yourself, Steve. You know how hard it is cover up a mistake. If I do this there is no going back.”

Steve nodded. “I want it because even if it doesn’t work out, even if we go our separate ways, I want something to remember him by.”

Hop took a deep breath and started his work. It didn’t take long. It was a small tattoo, simple enough in its design. He would have done it himself if Robin hadn’t stopped him.

Soon it was done and Hop scooted back on his chair. He cleaned Steve up, bandaged it, and wrapped it in plastic wrap.

“There you go, kid,” Hop said. “I hope it’s what you wanted.”

Steve nodded. “It is. I promise I won’t regret getting it.”

Hop sighed and got to his feet. “You’re smart man, Steve. A good tattoo artist, too. You’ve been through so much in such a short time. I think you need to take a break and just think. About the shop, your apprentices, your employees, friends, Eddie. Decide what you want and then go for it okay?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It’s just I’m the only full artist at my shop, I can’t take time off without closing it.”

Hop nodded back. “I’ve been there. I just worry about you.”

Steve sighed. “I worry about me too.”

Steve was vibrating out of his skin. The band was coming home today. He was going to see Eddie today.

But when the bus pulled up to the depot and they all filed out, there were only three of them.

Miranda and Jeff were hugging and kissing, Brian and Cecil were hugging. Even Gareth was getting swamped with hugs from his twin and mom.

But–

“Where’s Eddie?” Robin asked first. And Steve was grateful that she was there.

The other three members of the band looked at the ground, around them, anywhere but at Steve.

“He made us stop in Hawkins,” Jeff murmured and even Miranda was starting to look concerned.

“He wanted to spend a couple days with his Uncle Wayne,” Gareth said.

Steve heart plummeted to his stomach. “He’s not coming home?”

“It’s just for a couple of days,” Brian hurried to explain. “The tour just gave him a lot of things to think about.”

“Oh.”

Steve turned on his heel and ran out of the depot, shouts of his name following him out.

****

Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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