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surielstea · 7 months ago

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Books and Biscuits

1k celebration request by @dee-writes-smut

Pairing: Helion x Fem!Reader

Summary: A few teasing words over a biscuit turn into a shocking discovery.

Warnings: Suggestive | sexual tension | banter

A. Note: Reader’s invention in this is some rendition of a microwave, in case that wasn’t clear 😭😭

1.7k words

The knock at my door made me jump, the magnifying glass situated in front of me rattling at the sudden startle. I sigh and remove my safety glasses, pushing them to the top of my head, in turn getting the hair out of my face despite a few wisps to frame it.

I march towards the door, stuffing the pliers— that I had been using to meticulously rewire my new invention, into the pocket of my apron. I grab the knob of the door and swing it open, looking up, and up, towards the High Lord of the day court, the sun beaming brightly behind him as if he brought it with him.

"I thought I told you to leave them on the porch." I gesture to the stack of books in his hands. He gives me a sultry grin, the kinds that's guaranteed to have dropped panties before.

"I wanted to see how annoyed you'd be when opening the door," He shrugs and my nose crinkles in dismay. "There she is," He hums and I grumble a curse and take the heavy books from his hands. The Day Court was know for their library's, and unfortunately the engineering section at the House of Wind amounted to less than a dozen books. Which left me turning to Helion, truly the worst case scenario.

I go to close the door but he slips into my apartment before I get the chance to shut him out. I grit my teeth at his intrusion but slam the door with a click anyways.

I look to the Lord, who was gazing at every inch of my space like a kid in a candy store.

"Sure, make yourself at home." My voice was dripping in sarcasm but something told me he'd be genuinely taking me up on that.

"Well I came all this way just for a couple of books," He argues, spinning towards me.

"You rode on the back of a Pegasus, I think you'll survive." I retort, strolling over to my work table and setting the tower of books down with a thud.

"Meallan is safe out there, right?" He tenses slightly and I look to him with creased brows.

"You put him in the barn?" I tilt my head and he nods his head. "Then yes, Helion he's safe." I say, then turn back to what I was doing before his knock rudely interrupted my flow, attempting to ignore the idea of a majestic Pegasus in a stable with the average horses.

He's quiet for a long moment, allowing me to return to my work but now that he was here I was hyper aware of everything he did, and if I didn't hear him, even with my pointed ears, than he was far too quiet.

I whip around to face him, slightly paranoid, only to find him leaned down with his face near one of my unfinished projects, his eyes narrowed on it as if trying to figure out how it worked.

"What's this?" He reaches for the handle on the metal box and my eyes widen.

"Don't touch!" I rule and he looks back to me with a slightly shocked expression.

His outstretched hand curls into a fist before he tucks it back to his side and straightens to his original, tall height.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sunshine," He says with an innocent smile.

"You're so irritating," I deadpan.

"It's part of my charm." He shrugs with a smooth wink and I scoff, turning away from him and back to the dusty books.

"Of course it is." I grumble.

I crack a large red book open, the pages filled to the brim with valuable knowledge that I wouldn't know if it weren't for the High Lord, but the moment I begin to feel any rapport for him I hear a resounding beep echoing through the room.

My hand freezes on the book and I turn my head to face the gorgeous male. "I thought I told you not to touch it," I sigh, walking over towards him.

"Why not?" He says, retracting his hand from the keypad on the face of the metal door.

"It's not finished yet, you're lucky it didn't explode." I grumble, squatting down to get a closer look, making sure he didn't tamper with anything too severely.

"What does it do?" He murmurs curiously, tucking his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching anything else, which was for the best.

"It's a heater," I explain half-heartedly, hoping he'd leave with a lack of entertainment. But alas, he remained.

He analyzed the metal box with a crinkle between his dark brows, confusion evident over his features.

"Like a, mini sauna?" He said, his voice unsure and I glanced up at him— which was a major mistake because I always forget how beautiful he is, those amber eyes practically golden against his rich brown skin, and his deep black hair that swept over his shoulders. He was void of his pointed crown and embellished robe, instead dressed in casual clothing— or rather, the most casual the High Lord could get.

"No, it's for food," I explain but he looks at me entirely dumbfounded, the knot between his brows giving away his confusion. I huff a sigh and spin on my heel, walking over to my desk where my breakfast from over an hour ago sat, an untouched biscuit sat on the edge of the plate. I plucked it up, along with a napkin and walking back over to the unfinished invention he was so curious about.

I shoo him out of the way before opening the sliding door of the box, then placing the food inside and pushing it shut. "Press that one," I point to a green button and he follows direction, an immediate buzzing sounds the moment he does.

He startles slightly and I nearly laugh, I fold my lips into a tight line, attempting to contain my amusement.

He narrows his eyes on the machine, as if it was a new enemy he had to find the weakness of.

"The water molecules in the food vibrate, which produces heat and warms the food." I explain, attempting to distract him from whatever he was plotting in that gorgeous head of his.

The invention's timer runs out and it emits a loud beeping sound to notify that it's finished. Again, he jumped. "It won't actually explode," I reasoned, sliding open the metal door and taking the biscuit out, holding it towards him.

"See? Warm." I say, gesturing to the steam rising from the hot biscuit.

"Brilliant." He murmurs, taking it from my hands and cradling it as if it might shatter with any sudden movement.

"It still needs some modifying." I shake my head, looking to the large box that was far too inconvenient to be used in any kitchen.

"This would be very useful," He murmurs and I look back to him as he picks at the hot bread.

"For?" I ask.

"Mating ceremonies," He looks up at me with a cheeky smirk and I grumble a curse, returning to my work bench.

"Fuck you." I groan.

"When?" He retorts and I turn, unable to get any work done with all his snide remarks.

"You're unbelievable." I grumble, walking back over to him with a sneer but he returns it with a small smile.

"What's so difficult to understand about that?" He tilts his head downward at me and I curse his tall height, the idea of being looked down upon by him sent me into a fit of annoyance.

"The fact that you want me, Azriel, and Cassian all at once, it's inconceivable," I explain and he simply shrugs.

"How so?" His brows twitch together and I smirk.

"You wouldn't even be able to handle me, much less with the others." I cross my arms over my chest and his gentle smile grows into one of amusement.

"Is that a challenge?" He leans forward, looking over me and pinning me with those golden eyes of his.

"You're such a flirt." I scowl, only to hide my blush. His expression didn't falter.

"Only with you." He hums and I visibly recoil, taking offense to such a blatant falsehood.

"Liar," I immediately retort, but this time a flicker of pain flashes across his face. It was unusual to see the High Lord of the Day Court so dim. "I guarantee the moment after we fuck you'd toss me to the side."

"You really think that?" He asks, being entirely genuine and something in his tone makes my stomach knot.

"I do." I remain unwavering as I reply.

"What if we were mates? Then we'd really have a problem." He hums, looking down at the biscuit still in his hand.

"I'd rather be your whore than your mate." I huff beneath my breath and he looks back to me with a glint in his eyes.

"You sure about that?" He smirks.

We hold eye contact for only a second, but that moment stretches into oblivion as I analyze all his features, lit up by a golden beam, bridging directly between us.

My breath hitched as if the tether pierced through me, wrapping around my heart. Gods it felt both terrifying and marvelous at the same time, I hated it and yet I was obsessed with it. I wanted to swim in it, to feel it surround me. I tear my eyes away from the luminescent bridge, favoring the gold of his eyes over the string connecting us. "The mating bond," I whisper softly, because I could think of nothing else to say.

"Don't tell me I've left you that speechless," he remarks, entirely natural about this entire thing which meant— he knew, he's known this entire time and never said anything.

"Lord, fuck me," I grumble out, cursing both the cauldron and the mother for this predicament.

"Oh baby, I'm planning on it." He smirks, his gaze entirely predatory.

I flick my eyes down to the biscuit still in his hands, then back to him. The rush of the mating bond had swept me up so much so that I didn't do much thinking before replying.

"What are you waiting for then? Eat."

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azsazz · 1 year ago

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With Me

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I know your request are closed but still writing. In the future could you do something with Eris x rhys sister?

Warnings: Graphic depictions of canon violence

Word Count: 1,520

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It had been on a wisp of an autumn breeze that Eris found out.

Found out about the plans of the High Lord of Spring, how he and his sons planned an ambush on the wife and daughter of the High Lord of Night on their travels to the Illyrian mountains for a visit with her son.

He had been on his horse, red as the leaves on the trees, scouting the borders between Autumn and Spring. The wind ruffled his hair and tickled his pointed ears with the whispers of scheming sons. Eris had stilled the mare beneath him and urged the current with a touch of magic to enhance the conversation.

That High Lord will pay for everything he’s tried to do to ours.

He won’t even know what’s coming. And neither will those little bitches.

Dibs on the older one.

It had eaten Eris throughout the day. Across the rest of his round on the border, during battle strategy, between sword fighting with his younger brothers. Lucien was learning quickly how to play his brothers against each other, and even scored a hit on Eris while his mind had been run through with worry.

He is a smart male but the thought of going to his father with this news didn’t feel right, but keeping it to himself felt even worse. So, after a family dinner that he loathed, Eris put on his emerald robes and marched into the Night Court territory.

He was too late.

Eris caught the scent of your blood on a tornado of wind that carried the harrowing cries of you and your mothers downfall. You had been brutally attacked by the Spring Court sons and their father, and as Eris crept closer he saw blood coated flowers sprouting from the ground. The High Lord’s magic, a love note to the High Lord of Night.

A soft gurgle caught his attention as he stepped into the clearing washed in moonlight. The sight before him was harrowing; your carriage door ripped off its hinges, the windows blown out. Even the large, black steeds that had been pulling the wagon had been slaughtered, their entrails long lines in the white snow.

A wet cough, one with the whisper of death accompanying it drew his attention. Eris didn’t hesitate to locate you, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you curled beneath your slain mother, her arms still wrapped around you protectively.

Your eyes were wide with fear, mouth gaping like a fish. Blood of both yours and your mothers surrounded you, leaking from your lips, from between the hands you had pressed weakly to your stomach.

Falling to his knees, Eris reached a hand out but halted when your eyes met his. His mind was reeling, a young warrior with little battlefield experience before a female struggling through her thinning breaths.

Something stirred deeply within him, something he knew but couldn’t say, wouldn’t admit out loud until years later.

You had enough strength to shift your hand in the snow, reaching towards him, eyes screaming a plea for help from the handsome son of Autumn.

And he did. He held your organs in his hands as he winnowed you from Night into his own territory, right into the hands of his mother.

Amaretto stood with a start, the book in her hands falling loudly to the floor. There were no sounds in the room, not even the crackling of the fires raging in the hearths. She kept it this way so she could hear the sounds of her husband's footsteps when he walked down the marble halls of the Woodland House, each echo a shot to her confidence.

“Eris,” she gasps at her son, who looks over at her with wide, pleading, auburn eyes. She halts in her tracks, that look in his eyes, the sheer terror on his face. Her own eyes softened with a knowing look, and she uttered, “Oh, Eris.”

He and his mother worked in tandem all through the night. And when Beron’s footsteps began to sound down the hall Eris had been the one to distract him, goad him. He didn’t care about the bruises and pain inflicted by his father’s hand because it was nothing to the pain he could feel from you, through the thread of the bond that had appeared at the sight of you.

His mother saved your life with the little trickle of healing magic she had left. Always hidden from Beron, but would use it to save her son’s mate’s life. Two gentle souls that deserved much better hands that you had been dealt in the world.

Eris stayed by your side when you had been moved to a guest room. You hadn’t woken for days and he couldn’t figure out a way to hide you from his father who would surely use you against the Night Court, who were mourning the news of their felled female family members.

Word had come of the slaying of the Spring Court High Lord and the two eldest sons, leaving young Tamlin to take his place. In the fray, the High Lord of Night had been murdered as well, with Rhysand taking the chair of rule.

It was all very confusing times.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Eris,” you plead, tears staining your eyes. He can feel the cracking in your chest even though you’re trying to hide it from him. You’ve never been good at blocking your feelings from your loving mate, but the thought of returning home was all too much. Eris wasn’t understanding your fear, your need to go home to the Night Court after so long away, after Amarantha’s reign of terror has finally ended. “I need to see my brother.”

Eris had hidden you from the wretched female while he and all of the other citizens of the Autumn Court had been forced beneath the mountain. It had been a long, lonely fifty years of trying to find a way to get back to Velaris, to get inside of the barriers that had been protected with an extra boost of Rhysand’s power before he became trapped.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, hugging you closely. The both of you are laid up in his bed, days of reacquainting each other with the other’s body after so long away. Your mate had all but fallen apart in your arms, and you in his, the loneliness of your years spent wondering how your mate fared against the powerful female set to ruin your world.

“Come with me,” you beg wetly, clutching to his clothes. He had winnowed right back into your arms as soon as he was able, and he hasn’t let you go since. You hadn’t wanted him to. “Let’s run away from Autumn, together.”

Just like Lucien had done, chased away from the Court he knew as home while their awful brothers hunted him down. It had been another harrowing night for Eris, one you held him through.

Only the knowledge that his brother was safe in the Spring Court had kept him from completely falling apart.

“I can’t just leave like this, fawn,” he answers wetly, stroking your hair back from your face. You’re as beautiful as the day you woke up, when your eyes landed on his and the bond made itself known to you. He has spent every day since thanking the Mother for this time with you, for sparing you that winter night, for keeping you safe when he was trapped under the mountain with no way out. “Not yet.”

Your voice breaks and hot tears stream down your face, throat tightening to the point where no words could break if you tried. You want Eris to come with you, you need Eris to come with you. You’ve only just gotten him back and it cannot be time to give him up already.

“It’s okay, fawn,” Eris consoles sadly. He will keep you in his arms tonight and tomorrow, up until he escorts you to your brother’s land and makes sure that you are safe with them. He has been a selfish male for so many years, falling headfirst into the mating bond. He’d fallen into you completely and without any remorse, the same way you had found yourself falling into him. “You need to do this. And I will be here, fighting for a better life for us until we can be together, freely.”

Eris and Amaretto had come up with an elaborate plan to tell the rest of the family. That Eris would hide you until you healed, and found his mate at the Autumnal Equinox balls. It would ensure your safety, being classed as a High Fae, but also being Eris’ mate. You had learned to deal with Beron and Eris’ insufferable brothers for years.

You love Eris with every fiber of your being, and the thought of parting with him so soon after getting him back tears your heart to shreds, but you need to go, especially after everything Eris had told you happened down there.

“I love you, Eris.”

“I love you too, fawn.”

#eris x reader #eris/reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #acosf #eris #eris vanserra

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sheerfreesia007 · 3 months ago

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Take Another Lap

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Word count: 1,744

Content warnings: Fluff, cursing, suggestive

Summary: While home on break from college your next door neighbor and childhood friend Jeongin keeps waking you up with his motorbike practice. What happens when you’ve finally had enough of his loud roaring bike and confront him about practicing so early?

The loud rumbling of a motorbike violently pulls you from your sleep and you groan loudly as you squeeze your eyes shut trying to keep the last wisps of slumber around you. But there’s another loud roar of the motorbike and you’re now fully awake. Rolling onto your back you stare up at your childhood bedroom’s ceiling and sigh long and loud in a dramatic fashion.

You’ve been home from college for the past three days and every morning you’re rudely woken by the loud roar of Jeongin’s motorbike as he races it around the dirt track in his backyard. Ever since you were little you had lived next to the Yang family and while you were closer in age to Jeongin’s older brother you weren’t that much older than Jeongin that the two of you weren’t friends. In fact you were close to all three of the Yang boys, each one having a special place in your heart. But right now you were about ready to commit murder on the middle Yang boy.

Another loud roar of the motorbike filled the air and you rolled until your face was buried in your pillow allowing you to scream loudly into it. All you had wanted to do when you arrived home from college was to sleep. College had been kicking your ass with all the coursework and extracurriculars that you had joined in hopes of boosting your college degree and resume once you graduated. Your life had turned into late nights staying up to study or prep for events that you would help host. You had hoped that by coming home during the break that you would be able to catch up on some sleep.

But unfortunately Jeongin was hell bent on not allowing you to do that. You could hear him racing around the dirt track in the back and by the sound of his engine you could pinpoint exactly where he was on the track. You had spent so many years as a preteen and teen watching and helping Jeongin with his racing in the hopes that he’d be able to achieve his dream of going pro. And when you had gotten the call from him while you were in the middle of your first year college telling you that he had been signed on with a popular race team you had been ecstatic and so proud of him. All of his hard work and practice had paid off.

And while you had been so proud and happy for him there was a little bit of bittersweet mixed in. Because after all those years of helping Jeongin with his racing you had grown fond of the young man he had grown up to be. You hated to admit it but you had developed a crush on the young man while you weren’t paying attention and even though you had been attending college for two years now every time you came back home and saw him those feelings would smack you right in the face once more. You had even begun to suspect that those feelings had started to grow into something so much more than you were willing to explore or entertain right now.

Just as you heard the engine rev up on the straight away of the track you growled before gritting your teeth when you heard him obnoxiously rev the engine more than he actually needed to for the stretch of track. Flinging your covers off your body you felt anger course through you and grip at your very soul, you had had enough! He was going to stop with this madness and let you sleep in for once if you had to go out there and rip him off his damn bike yourself!

With that thought in mind you marched out of your bedroom and down the stairs to your back door. You stood in the doorway before flinging the door open and with a dark scowl on your face you rushed across your backyard to the fence and cleanly vaulted over it as your anger propelled you faster towards him. He was racing around the further side of the track and you stomped your way over the track until you came to the middle of it where he would catch sight of you easily.

His helmeted head turned and locked on you as he rode the set of humps easily before he revved the engine and came barreling towards you while leaning over the bike intently. You stood there in the middle of the track having full trust in him to be able to stop himself before colliding with you. Your arms came up to cross over your chest as you glowered at him angrily and your hip popped out in defiance.

Just as he was about to make contact with you he effortlessly circled around you a few times dragging dirt up in an almost cyclone around the two of you while he stared at you from under his tinted helmet. You knew he was solely staring at you as you continued to circle you before coming to a stop right at your side. He turned the engine off and slowly lifted his helmet off his head before shaking his shaggy hair out of his eyes and face. When his hair fell around his face in a mess he grinned widely at you causing his eyes to nearly close in slits on his face.

”Morning Sleeping Beauty! Was wondering when you were going to wake up.” He greeted you happily and you glared at him before you shoved him with both of your hands in his chest. He didn’t move an inch and it felt as if your hands were pressed to hard contoured stone which caused you to stutter in your movement as your eyes fell to his racer suit as if you would be able to see through it to his now strong muscled chest. “Sleeping Beauty?” He asked with a teasingly lilt to his voice and you scowled at his chest before your angry eyes darted up to his mischievous ones.

”Ya know if you let me sleep in for once I’d actually be Sleeping Beauty!” You snapped at him angrily and he grinned wickedly down at you before he leaned towards you as his eyes raced up and down your body appreciatively.

”You look like a beauty to me.” He flirted ruthlessly and you scowled darkly at him before huffing tiredly at him and flung your hands up into the air.

”Just once! I’d like to catch up on some sleep! Just once, Innie!” You snapped at him using his childhood nickname. He looked at you curiously for a moment before tilting his head to the side. “C’mon Innie, I’m home for break just let me sleep in.” You pleaded with him softly as you grabbed onto his handlebars and leaned into his face causing him to lean back before his eyes darted down to your mouth before darting back up to your eyes.

”I need to practice.” He blurted out lamely and you rolled your eyes at his excuse.

”Early in the morning?!” You asked incredulously as you leaned closer into his space trying to make your point that you needed to sleep.

”It’s already nine.” He countered and you growled angrily causing his eyes to widen comically.

”Fine! I’ll give you whatever you want or owe you a favor without any questions, just hold off your practice until at least ten thirty. Please?” You tried to bargain with him and he twisted his lips into a slightly pout as he thought over your offer.

”Go out on a date with me tonight. And I’ll hold off practicing until eleven.” He countered and you blinked up at him surprised at his offer.

”You wanna go on a date with me?” You asked shocked and he grinned wickedly at you as he leaned over his handlebars into your space as his eyes danced around your shocked face.

”Been trying to get you out on a date with me for years, Sleeping Beauty.” He confessed quietly and you stared at him with widening eyes as all the memories of him flirting with you outrageously ran through your head.

“I thought you were just joking and being a tease.” You said. softly and he shook his head quickly at your words.

”Been in love with you since high school Beauty.” He confessed and you sucked in a harsh breath. Your eyes darted up to his and you watched as understanding filtered into his pretty brown eyes before he smirked knowingly. “You too huh?” He asked teasingly and you scoffed softly at him before you began to pull back away from him. But Jeongin didn’t let you get far as his hand came up quickly to cup the back of your head as his mouth descended on yours hungrily. You yelped softly against his mouth as your hands tightened on his handlebars and your lips pressed against his eagerly. When he pulled back from your mouth he pressed his forehead to yours and grinned wildly at you as his eyes connected with yours. “I’ve been dying to do that for way too long.” He husked out to you as he swiped his tongue along his bottom lip as he stared into your eyes lustfully.

“Let me take you out for brunch to make up for waking you up.” He suggested and you nodded your head quickly in agreement and he smirked softly at you before pressing another kiss to your lips. “Go get dressed, Beauty. As much I love pajamas I don’t want anyone else seeing you in them besides me.” He husked out and you flushed hotly as you realized that you hadn’t gotten dressed before storming out of your house to confront him. You were dressed in a skintight tank top and a pair of skimpy pj shorts.

Jeongin let you go and he sat back on his bike watching you with hungry eyes as you quickly rushed off his track back to your house as a wicked smirk slipped over his lips. You looked back over your shoulders to him and nearly felt your blush consume you as you saw his dark heated eyes following you eagerly. Ducking back into your house you smiled softly to yourself suddenly happy that he had woken you up earlier than you had wanted to be awake.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

#my writing #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin #i.n. x reader #i.n.

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hiraethwa · 8 months ago

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one summer day

11 star-crossed. where you celebrate tanabata with your friends

<< 10 epiphany. | >> 12 shoot for the stars.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 1.4k warnings: just fluff <3 tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenscaredakira -- (inbox me if you want to be added to the tag list)

there are several thoughts that run through your mind as your eyes land on ushijima. one, he kept his promise to you, wearing a simpler yet formal kimono. two, it is utterly, and you mean utterly, unfair how devastatingly good he looks in it, it cannot be healthy for your heart. three, how are you going to survive the night at this rate? and four, you are going to be swarmed by his fans and you only have yourself to blame.

it is tanabata after all, the star festival that celebrates the ancient legend of orihime and hikoboshi, two star-crossed lovers who could only meet one day every year. almost every girl in high school is bound to attend the biggest tanabata festival in the miyagi area.

“feeling a little warm?” you manage to find your voice to tease the stoic boy. there is definitely a pink tint to his golden skin, one you credit to the summer heat.

next to him, semi and tendo jump into the fray as well, taking the rare opportunity to poke fun at their captain outside of volleyball practice, referencing inside jokes that you are not privy to.

“you both cleaned up well,” you chirp, nodding at their yukatas in acknowledgement.

“yeah, we didn’t want to leave ushijima-kun all dressed up by himself, and since we were part of the problem, we decided that we should shoulder some of the blame too,” tendo grins at you knowingly.

you give him a half-lidded look that said wow, you are so funny.

“c’mon, we’re late, i want to go check out some stalls before the fireworks go off.” you make a point to link your arm with semi, marching off with your best friend before anyone could get a word in and ignoring the source of the heat you are feeling on your face. definitely the summer heat.

the night air is warm, ever so slightly cooler than the day, but you could feel the sheen of sweat forming on your skin beneath the thin yukata fabric. it is crowded as expected, with streamers hanging from paper balls of every color, low enough that you run your hand through the soft wisps as you pass by.

the first stop of the evening is the center of the complex, where several man-made bamboo trees have been erected for festival-goers to write their wishes on a piece of paper and tie it to. you steer semi towards the tables with writing instruments and bands of color paper, tugging at his sleeve impatiently with ushijima and tendo following right behind him.

you grab a piece of paper and a pen, sidling off to one side so that your writing is not visible to your friends as you scrawl your wishes for the year on the thin material. once you are done, you sneak up to your friends stealthily, peeking over their shoulders to read what they have written.

“oi,” semi exclaims as he discovers you looking at his paper.

you look away innocently, standing to the side while waiting for them to be done. ushijima joins you, to which your heart stutters a beat to.

despite having patched things up months ago, things have not gone back to normal. gone were the days where your unrequited love is the absolute truth. now, ushijima’s every action, every look leaves you second-guessing yourself, and your heart feeling like you just ran a marathon.

you tried, you really did, to act as normal as you can around him without your heart on your sleeve. though you wonder whether you are doing a good job of it. there was no particular reason, but if you had to pick a turning point, it was that time when he got really close to you and you ended up kneeing him in the balls.

nothing was the same since then, at least for you.

so now, as he compliments you, your mind goes haywire. “you look beautiful in your yukata.”

you smooth over the folds, thumbing the gold detailing on the blue fabric, mind blanking out at his words. “thank you.” warmness spreads across your cheeks, causing you to look down and concentrate particularly hard at the little thread poking out the seam, picking at it, hoping he does not see the redness on you.

“wanna tie it together?” you nod at his question, following him to the bamboo tree. you end up picking a branch that you felt was more auspicious than the others, tying your paper strip to it.

ushijima decides on the same branch, knotting his paper just above yours. his purple touching your green one, as if it is a representation of his wishes. you shake your head at the thought. you did not dare to even explore that possibility, regardless of how different everything feels. but maybe, just maybe, if you are accepted to the university of tokyo, there is hope there.

“you had to pick the same branch, huh?”

he shrugs, holding out an arm for you. you take it naturally, despite the weird feeling in your stomach as you clutch onto his sleeve. “wanna get some food?”

you end up getting some yakitori skewers and a tornado potato from a roadside stall, easily demolishing the food in minutes before tugging him to a sweets stall. just as wakatoshi pays the vendor for the matcha mochi, two girls approach you both shyly, asking for a photo with him.

their eyes dart to you, probably wondering who you were and what kind of relationship you have with ushijima, making you shift uncomfortably. you take the hint to leave, spotting a stall selling handicrafts just a few stalls down.

the expressionless falcon soft toy you picked up reminds you of ushijima.

“we’ll take it,” ushijima appears next to you, handing over some cash for the toy that you are busy squishing.

“i was just looking at it…” you trail off, tilting your head to look at him.

he slant his head in confusion, “but you like it, do you not?”

but you don’t get a chance to respond before semi and tendo comes flying at you both from behind, almost knocking you over in the process. good, you think. you are afraid of where the road leads into unknown territory. unfamiliarity terrifies you, and for that reason, you want to stay precisely where you are, on the even ground that you know like the back of your hand.

good because if you went down that road and things end unpleasantly… no, you would much rather love him in silence than to risk losing him.

“what is it?” semi whispers to you conspiratorially as he glances at ushijima.

you frown at the little falcon. “is it just me, or is ushijima not his usual self?”

“what do you mean? he’s always like this around you.”

semi’s words leave you speechless. sure, you’ve heard a few people point it out to you in the past, but you didn’t think much of it at the time as you were too busy trying to put yourself back together. now, you can’t help but hear the words repeat in your mind.

you find yourself atop a small hill, sandwiched between ushijima and semi for the fireworks that opens the weekend long celebration of tanabata. just for a few seconds, you allow yourself to admire ushijima’s profile, his head turned towards tendo as he says something to the redhead.

boom. the first of the fireworks goes off, lighting up the night sky in showers of golden and blue. a smile finds its way to your face as you bask in the moment next to the people you care about, on a summer night in your final year of high school.

you tense as fingers lace through yours, too shocked to even look in ushijima’s direction as your eyes lock onto each and every bright firework that shoots upwards and explodes into colorful reactions that illuminate the dark sky. much like what he is to you, walking into your life, a blinding sun unaware of its own light, bringing life to the darkness in your heart, chasing away the darkness.

despite your thundering heart, your body relaxes, fingers tightening around his larger digits. the thoughts firing through your brain are too many, too fast to process, so you let them wash over you, choosing to focus on the present. it is a gift, you realize, on tanabata, from the stars orihime and hikoboshi themselves.

you can only hope that unlike the story of the star-crossed lovers, there will be a better ending for yours.

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professional-yapper · 1 year ago

Text

Lo'ak x Reader

(first x reader constructive criticism welcomed 🩷)

Rage

You'd been butting heads with Aonung as long as you could remember.

It began when you were kids. It began with squabbling over who's toy was whose. And over the years it had evolved into... Well, it hadn't evolved much. You still fought like little kids, coming to blows more often than not.

But the first time you'd been really, truly angry with him was only recently. It was the kind of angry that makes you sick to your core, the kind that makes you shake, like the very essence of your being is trying to shake off your mortal body and strangle the living daylights out of whatever is making you angry.

Which was Aonung.

It'd been a pretty average day, in all honesty. You'd woken up late, gone for a swim, settled on making your way over to Tsireya's to see if she wanted to go for a walk with you and see what the tide brought in.

But as you were making your way over, you spotted the Sullies down on the beach. Newcomers from the forest. You didn't have much to do with them beyond helping Tsireya teach them a little of the Metkayina way here and there. But you knew them well enough to recognise that it was Lo'ak and Kiri down on the beach.

Which was, of course, nothing worth commenting on. If it weren't for the fact that Aonung and his little idiots were circling them, taunting them, wisps of cruel words and laughter floating up to where you stood.

You sucked in a breath, staring, taking in the situation and wondering if beating Aonung's ass was the right way to go. After all, you knew why he was picking on them. Not because they were Omaticaya.

Well... maybe a little because they were Omaticaya. But mostly because of the strange hair on their brows and the extra fingers on their hands.

You honestly hadn't thought much of it. You knew it meant demon blood, but you were sheltered and so what that could entail meant nothing to you.

You stood on the walkway and all you saw were kids that you sort of knew, kids that you liked well enough, kids that definitely didn't deserve the shit they kept getting.

And, you reflected, stepping off the walkway and onto the sand, if your determination to do something in their defense had something to do with the fact that Lo'ak had the biggest, brightest golden eyes you'd ever seen, that was nobody's business but your own.

And if the way he looked at you was your only motivation for even bothering to help teach them, well, that was your secret too.

So you marched down the sand, shoved one of Aonung's stupid friends aside and demanded to know what Aonung thought he was doing.

"Aw, come to defend the freaks?" Aonung cooed, smiling at you with sharp teeth, like you were supposed to be afraid of him and like you didn't know he'd wet the bed periodically when he was eight.

You stepped forward and shoved him hard in the chest. "Why are you always such a dick?!" you demanded, feeling hot and prickly as you always did when you interacted with him, and also because you could feel Lo'ak watching you, eyes burning into the back of your head as you defended him and his sister.

"Why are you so determined to defend them?" Aonung fired back, getting in your face, shoving you in return. Oh, he knew. He definitely knew. His eyes were glittering in that way they did when he had secrets to share.

There was no way he wasn't going to expose you right now. Tell whoever was in earshot that you always stared at Lo'ak when he went by, not for any reason you could pinpoint. Tell whoever cared to listen that the only reason you were even nice to the Sullies was because you didn't want to upset Lo'ak, which wasn't the most pure of motivators but it couldn't be as bad as being an outright bully like Aonung, right?

So you decided you weren't going to give him the chance to tell everything you'd kept secret, safe, tucked tightly under your ribs next to a heart that asked why you didn't understand that you liked Lo'ak.

You swung, fist connecting with Aonung's smile in a bright spark of pain. He made a weird noise and fell back, too surprised to retaliate. You didn't know why. He should've expected it. You always ended up punching him. Or vice versa.

But you didn't give him the chance to recover, jumping on him, tackling him into the shallows, wincing at the sand rasping against your knees and elbows and the water going up your nose for a brief moment as Aonung threw you off-

You wondered if you were doing this to stop him from bullying the Sullies, or for your own selfish reasons. Probably the latter, you concluded with resignation as you went for him again, hands halfway between claws and fists, like you were stuck between popping his eyes out or just punching him again.

You settled on strangling him, in fact, sitting on his chest and smacking his head on the ground with enthusiasm, blood falling from your face and spattering on his. Weird. You didn't even realise you'd been hit.

Aonung bucked up against you, trying to throw you off, his hands hitting at you, not proper punches that landed, more slaps than anything as he realised you were definitely going to choke him until something went seriously wrong.

"Bitch," he spluttered at you through the blood weeping from his nose, clawing at your forearms. "Crazy fucking bitch-"

"Teach you not to be such a fucking prick all the time," you snarled, knowing damn well you were just showing off at this point even if you didn't register it at the time.

Then, finally, his friends jumped to his defense, grabbing at you, your hair, your tail, dragging you off. You couldn't fathom why they'd taken so long to take action, but they did with vigour.

The one dragging you by your hair didn't get much of a chance to really have a go at you, however, as deep blue flashed across your vision and Lo'ak socked the guy holding you. Right in the throat, by the sounds of it.

Then Lo'ak's hands were curling around your arms, hauling you to your feet as gently as could be expected given the circumstances. He pulled you back a few steps, away from Aonung and his friends. The two still standing seemed un-inclined to attack again, eyes darting between Aonung and their friend, both of whom were wheezing on the ground.

"You alright?" Lo'ak huffed, golden eyes searching your face. You stared for a moment, taking in his features. You'd never been this close to him before, so you supposed you could be granted a little leniency regarding your late response.

"Yeah. You?" you returned breathlessly, though you didn't think he'd been touched beyond being prodded and shoved.

"Yeah," he nodded, swallowing dryly, looking back towards Aonung and his friends.

"We should go," his sister Kiri interrupted, folding her arms.

Lo'ak's hands immediately dropped from your arms as she spoke and he went a little purple. Was he blushing? A little thrill went through you at the idea. "Yeah, let's go," he said, turning, taking a step and waiting for you and Kiri to follow. "That was hardcore, what you did," he added to you as you started walking alongside him, shoulders bumping briefly.

"Thanks," Kiri added a little begrudgingly, but there was genuine appreciation in her face. Not that you really thought you deserved it, because who beat someone up to impress their crush? It was dumb.

But you'd done it anyway, and you decided you would've done it a thousand times over anyway, as you felt Lo'ak take your hand and squeeze it firmly without saying a word, all three of you moving slowly back towards the village.

(man this is actually horrendous)

Part two >

#atwow fanfiction #tsireya #neteyam #tonowari #kiri sully #neteyam sully #loak sully #loak #lo'ak #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak avatar #atwow loak #loak x reader #loak x you #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 9 months ago

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 13

AO3

Summary: As D-Day looms, Frankie fights not to feel the pressure

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs

A/N: WE'RE BACK!! sorry this chapter took a while! I was finishing up with uni and everything has been sooo hectic, but please enjoy this! <3

The runway had never seemed so alive, not even on a mission day - men scurrying back and forth, unloading supplies this way and that, mechanics swarming around the planes like moths to a flame. With D-Day on the immediate horizon, time was of the essence, and no one wanted to be the person to fuck it up.

Frankie had clambered into the wheel well of one of the bombers, invisibly from the waist up to any passersby as she worked away, tightening bolts and ensuring the landing mechanisms were all working perfectly. A screwdriver clenched between her teeth, hand stained with grease, sweat plastered stray wisps of hair to her temples, the afternoon heat exacerbated by the pressure of their work. "Bevan!" One of the officers called as he marched over, face growing visible through the gap in the metal below her. "Bevan, I swear to god, I need you to come look at the temperature bulbs, I've asked you already, will you please-"

Letting out a huff, she pulled the screwdriver from her mouth, leaning back on one elbow as she stared down at the man. She couldn't remember his name. "Calm the fuck down, alright? I've told you I'll get to it - I'll fucking get to it. I've done my time in customer service, love - if you yell at me, I'm not doing it."

With a scoff, the officer began to walk away, muttering to himself about professionalism as he went. If anything, Frankie was just glad she didn't actually work for the Americans. She didn't quite know what she'd have done if she couldn't ignore them. Resuming her work, she grunted as she tightened another bolt, humming mindlessly as she began to murmur the words to her tune, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Never saw the sun shinin' so bright, never saw things lookin' so right... hmm hm hmm... blue days, all of 'em gone..."

"Hello!" Another voice called, loud and jovial and making Frankie jump, accidentally smacking her forehead against one of the metal support bars as she whipped her head around.

"Shit!"

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry," ATS Private Maeve Scarrow called from the tarmac below, expression pinched in sympathy as she peered up from under the brim of her cap. "It's just, uh - I've got the replacement fan blades you asked for in the truck."

"No worries," She grunted, rubbing at the sore spot, already feeling a bruise begin to bloom. "Thanks, Maeve. Just leave 'em there, I'll get 'em."

"Okay! Oh, and Lemmons is just... sorta standing here. I don't know if you know about that."

Brow furrowed, Frankie crouched down on her ladder, momentarily re-emerging from within the plane's wing. "What do you want?"

Ken stood in polite, patient silence, hands folded behind his back until she addressed him. "You hungry?"

"... What?"

Raising one hand, he produced a paper bag from behind his back. "Got sandwiches. Want one?"

She hadn't realised how starving she was until the prospect of food was presented, and suddenly her stomach was growling. "Yes," Frankie nodded, and he stepped forward, holding one of the sandwiches up to her mouth so that she could eat without touching anything, her hands still utterly filthy.

"This is all... weird, right?" She asked after a moment of silence, mouth still full.

"What's weird?" Ken frowned, biting off the corner of her sandwich.

"Yunno - we've been waiting for this for ages, and now it's actually happening and it feels... surreal."

"Big day, that's for sure," He nodded. "It just... it better work, s'all."

"It will."

"Didn't know you were such an optimist."

"Times change, Ken," Frankie shrugged, craning her head forward to take another bite.

Lemmons smiled softly. "... So. How's your guy?"

Pausing to chew, she nodded along as he spoke. "Yeah, he's good - I think being a Major suits him. He likes feeling like he can actually help the new guys, yunno?"

"You ain't worried?"

"Always. But you work through it." Frankie's brow furrowed, looking down to scratch at the dirt beneath her nails. Reaching out, Ken squeezed her shoulder gently, and she met his eye with a smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I'm gonna be honest with you here, I think this is a terrible idea," George stated, placing a fresh cup of coffee on the corner of Crosby's desk as she passed on the way to her own. Blakely was perched on the edge of her desk, peering at the papers in his hands and looking up with a warm smile as she approached. The pair had spent the last two days watching Crosby with expressions of increasing concern as exhaustion steadily took a greater and greater toll on the man.

"George, I just gotta get these maps done," Harry sighed, dragging a hand through his hair to scrape it out of his face.

"Not sure I'd wanna fly with maps made by a guy who was practically comatose when he did 'em," Everett pointed out. "Just sayin'."

She nodded in agreement. "This whole 'macho man' 'I-can-do-anything' bullshit is a little embarrassing, Croz. At this point you've either gotta take a serious nap or snort some coke if you wanna keep going."

"You're both very unhelpful," Crosby grumbled, hunched forwards so far over his maps that they could barely see his face.

"Oh, and Kidd wants you in his office," George added. Throwing up his hands in despair, Harry rose to his feet, taking the coffee with him as he left the room, muttering to himself.

Shrugging, she turned on her heel with a sigh, brushing against Blakely's knee as she returned to her seat at the desk. He was silent for a long moment, flicking through the file in his hand until he spoke. "... So this is bad, right?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Great, just checking... D'you wanna get dinner when we're done with all this?"

An involuntary grin made its way across George's face, a surprised bubble of laughter escaping her throat. "You mean after the invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe?"

"Well, yeah. Future of the free world's relying on George Aarons, I won't deprive 'em."

She beamed, fighting to suppress a giggle as her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Ev glanced over at her when she wasn't looking, a smirk curling his lip. George resumed her work, tapping away at the typewriter keys to distract herself, still feeling his gaze on her, shaking her head slightly in mock disapproval at such blatant a flirt.

After a short while, Crosby emerged from Kidd's office, and - if possible - he appeared in even worse shape than he had mere minutes ago, swaying on his heels as he took one wobbly step after another, eyes barely half-open. Still lingering at George's desk, the pair watched him wander out with shared frowns of concern, awaiting what suddenly seemed inevitable.

"Is he-?"

"Yep."

Before he could take his next step, Harry teetered and keeled over to one side, hitting the floor with an audible thud as those around him leapt to their feet in his aid. Exchanging a pointed look, Blakely stood up, bending down to whisper in George's ear before he too went to help. "If you're gonna laugh, you gotta do it outside."

Raising her hands in surrender, her expression contorted with mocking disbelief. "I'm not going to laugh!" She protested, and he furrowed his brow at her before heading towards where Crosby lay unconscious.

Scarcely a minute passed before Everett noticed her again, crossing the room towards the door, jaw clenched tightly as she visibly suppressed a smile. He chuckled, shaking his head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie's back rested up against the outside of the mechanics' hut, the sun heating the metal so that the warmth seeped through her clothes, legs crossed and tucked beneath herself as she sat cross-legged in the grass. A newspaper lay unfurled across her lap, creasing itself over her knees as she surveyed its contents, rarely making it beyond the headlines and pictures. The movement of a shadow across the lawn caught her eye, and looking up, a grin began to crease her cheeks as she noticed Rosie making his way towards her, hands folded behind his back.

"Aha!" Frankie exclaimed, calling over to him. "Welcome to the feast. We've got, uh... some crackers! And... this carrot," She nodded, holding up the half-eaten carrot in her hand.

"You're just gnawing on that like a rabbit, huh?" He smiled, pausing as he reached her and positioning himself between her and the sun, casting her in shadow so that she didn't have to squint.

"The propaganda posters say they help you see in the dark," She shrugged, patting the grass beside her so that he would sit down. Rosie let out a grunt as he lowered himself onto the ground, pulling his hand out from behind his back to reveal a fistful of freshly picked poppies. A faint squeak of surprise escaped her, eyes widening slightly at the flowers as she took another bite of her carrot, tossing her newspaper to one side, swiftly forgotten. "Where'd you get those?"

"There's a whole bunch a few fields over, just bloomed these last couple days. George told me they're your favourite the first time I met her, but I could never find any."

Frankie frowned slightly. "Why'd she tell you that?"

Head lolling to the side, Rosie raised a brow. "Why'd you think, honey?"

She slowly began to nod. "Fair enough. Y'know-" She said, wagging her finger at him. "-I did know you had a crush on me back then."

He scoffed loudly, head shaking side to side in dissent. "What? No you didn't!"

"Of course I did! You weren't as slick as you thought you were, buddy."

"No, no - you don't get to talk. You almost kissed me one time and you ran away and refused to talk to me for weeks."

"That was way later!" Frankie cried. "That is not the same thing!"

Rosie laughed, pressing his shoulder against hers. "Whatever - just shut up and take your flowers, okay?" He grinned, holding the bouquet out to her.

She let out a chuckle, reaching out for them. "Thank you, dear."

"Yeah, yeah, love you," He jokingly rolled his eyes, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. Humming, he pulled away slightly, their noses still touching. "You smell bad."

"All for you, sweetheart," Frankie teased, and he laughed before going in for another kiss. She broke away with a grin, shifting sideways to rest her head against his shoulder, rolling the stem of one of the poppies between her finger and thumb.

"I got a call from George earlier... Apparently Croz is out for the count - passed out right in the middle of the office."

"Holy shit," Rosie's brow furrowed, bolting upright, and was about to make to stand when she put a hand on his arm, bringing him back down.

"Nah, he just needs to sleep. She was pissing herself on the phone, so he's fine," Frankie chuckled slightly, recalling George's laughter as she had described the way the navigator 'absolutely ate shit' in vivid detail. Once Rosie had settled, steadily accepting that his friend wasn't in need of help, he nestled back against the wall of the hut, stretching his arms out to wrap them around her shoulders, tugging her tight against his chest as she smiled.

"Called my dad last night - he asked me to make sure you're feelin' good before tomorrow."

"Oh, your dad wants to know, huh?" He asked incredulously, peering down at her with a raised brow and a smirk. Frankie was practically lying across his lap, his arms a vice grip around her shoulders, allowing just enough movement for her to reach up and twist the stray curl hanging against his forehead around the tip of her finger.

"Look, I know you'll be fine - you're a fuckin' pro," She tittered. "I think he's just concerned you'll condemn me to spinster-hood if anything goes wrong tomorrow."

"It would certainly be a loss to the world if no one ever got to see you in a wedding dress," Rosie teased, squeezing gently at the flesh of her arm.

"Oh piss off," She snorted, batting at his hand. "You think I couldn't find someone else to take me if you go down in a blaze of glory? I'm a catch."

"Awful. Horrible," He shook his head, letting her go as she let out a guffaw, resting on her back across his thighs. "Terrible - you're a terrible wife."

Frankie shrugged. "Could find someone who wouldn't call me a terrible wife n'all." Rosie reached around to the side of her stomach, digging a knuckle into the ticklish patch of skin above her waist, and she let out a shriek, kicking out her legs as she pushed herself upright, his expression creasing as he laughed. She opened her mouth wide in fake outrage, smacking him across the chest with the back of her hand. Before she could retract it, he seized her wrist, placing a kiss to her palm as she echoed his laughter.

It was easier to exist like this. At least, she knew it was for him. To simply be, to pretend nothing was coming - to put on a brave face and ignore the fact that tomorrow he would get into his plane and that, like every other time, there was a chance he wouldn't come back. Living in the future, in the 'what-if?', was going to kill them both eventually. It was easier to act like nothing was coming, and open themselves to the consequences once it was over. To mop up the blood at the end of a long day spent pretending they didn't know it would always be there.

She knew that Rosie needed this. He'd never ask, but he needed someone who didn't look to him for answers and wisdom and a plan to do the impossible. He needed Frankie to make him laugh, to give him a tiny sliver of time where he wasn't a Major or a pilot or the guy who flew twenty-five goddamn missions and came straight back for more - he was just Rosie. She could do that. She could make that her job. It was easy to do when she was doing it for him. As easy as breathing.

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The planes had left three hours ago. In the officers' club, a radio had been set up atop the bar, playing the BBC broadcast since eight o'clock that morning, chairs clustered in a tight semi-circle as people listened in, desperate to catch every development. George had popped in on her break, lingering by the door for just long enough to notice Frankie's absence. The other mechanics had all assembled, functionally inert until the planes returned, but she had not been among them. Ken met George's eye from across the room and shrugged, silently confirming that he hadn't seen her. In an instant, she knew exactly where to look.

Frankie looked up as the door to their hut swung open, smiling at George as she entered from where she sat cross-legged upon the bed, shoes discarded in a heap on the floor. Her bouquet of poppies had spent the night in a vase on the bedside table, but now she was taking scissors to the stems, chopping them down and splaying the petals neatly upon the pages of her book.

There was no need to ask. George knew she was distracting herself, knew exactly what she was doing with the flowers - preserving them as a manifestation of the subconscious fear that Rosie wouldn't be coming back to give her any more. Wordlessly, she crossed the room towards her bed, reaching underneath it to retrieve the heftiest hardback she owned, so heavy that the mattress creaked as she put it down beside Frankie. She looked up at her, brow raised.

"That one's heavier. It'll press them flatter."

"Thanks," She smiled, beginning to transfer the flowers from one book to the other. It was silent for a long while as she did this, and George perched on the edge of the mattress, feet dangling onto the floor.

"... I'm not hiding, or avoiding anything, by the way," Frankie pointed out, still staring down at her work.

"You think I'd fucking judge you if you were?" George frowned. "You do whatever you have to, I'm gonna be here either way."

She looked up at her then, the faintest of smiles curling her lip as she simply stared for a while.

"You're basically the love of my life."

"Well, obviously - who else was it gonna be?" George snorted, and Frankie began to grin, wordlessly passing over the last of the untouched poppies so that she could join in. With gentle fingers, they splayed each petal, sliding the flowers in place between the well-worn pages of George's book. It was undoubtedly an act of love. For whom, it didn't really matter.

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Crosby's eyes opened slowly to the sound of laughter, a gentle afternoon breeze blowing across his cheek as he blinked against the sudden sunlight. His head lolled to the side as he gradually took in the scene around him, and for a moment no one noticed he'd even awoken. Rosie sat on the bed beside him, using his thumb to mark the page in his book as he looked up with a smile. The window had been propped all the way open, and Frankie leant her shoulder against the frame, arms folded across her chest as she chatted in hushed tones, George just visible beside her. The two women were forbidden from entering the men's huts, but with the window open so far and their bodies leaning through, they were practically inside anyway.

"Oh shit - the great navigator lives," George said, and Harry could practically hear the smirk in her voice. He blinked hard, trying to adjust his eyes well enough to make out the time on Rosie's watch as the Major grinned at him.

"What time is it?" He asked blearily, pushing himself up slowly on one elbow.

"Hmm, seven-thirty?" Frankie guessed, squinting as she peered up at the sky. Rosie nodded in confirmation.

A sudden jolt of adrenaline shot through him. Harry could picture his maps on the office table, just sitting there, painfully incomplete as the clock ticked each second steadily away. Before he even registered his movement, he was on his feet, scrambling for his clothes. "There's still time! There's still time, come on, goddammit - why are you all standing around!?" He barked, panic lacing his every word. They didn't have time for this - they needed to get to work right now. Why wasn't anybody moving?

George was the first to break, taking a step back from the window as a cackle erupted from her throat, followed almost simultaneously by Frankie as she let out a snort, face reddening with laughter. Even Rosie had begun to chuckle. Harry suddenly realised he wasn't wearing any trousers.

"Seven-thirty Saturday, Croz," Rosie explained, the two women still giggling like schoolgirls, collapsing back into hilarity each time they made eye contact with one another. The realisation that he had missed the day they'd all been working towards hit like a freight train, knocking the wind from Harry's lungs, and he was certain he would've been devastated had the others not been there, grinning back at him. They were okay - hell, they were smiling, seemingly happier than they had been in weeks. It was an immediate balm, soothing the burn before it even had time to swell.

Crosby took a deep breath, trying his hardest to summon any words that might relay the moment.

"... Can you two get outta here until I put some pants on?"

Frankie snorted again, and George nodded hurriedly, clearly trying not to slip back into laughter. The pair stepped away from the window, their muffled voices floating back on the wind as they wandered away, linked at the elbow, until they'd vanished from earshot. Letting out a huff, Harry rummaged around until he found some trousers, shooting Rosie a look as he tugged them up over his hips.

"... Why'd you let 'em in when I don't have any pants on, man?" He asked, throwing his hands up in despair.

Rosie's brow furrowed in momentary confusion. "Well, what d'you expect me to do when Frankie shows up?"

"Not let her in?"

He tilted his head to the side, raising a brow as if to say 'Really?'. Croz let out a long sigh. "Right. Yeah, I remember... You guys are weird."

Rosie just shrugged.

#fic | i'm your man #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #masters of the air #masters of the air oc #mota oc #mota fic #frankie x rosie #oc: frankie #oc: george #everett blakely #harry crosby #masters of the air fic #oc: maeve

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staytinyville · 1 year ago

Text

LALALA

↣ Summary: You thought your dreams were always odd. But when you wake up in different worlds you start to wonder what was real and what was fake.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Stray Kids x Reader, Felix x Reader

↣ Genre: Action

↣ AU/Trope info: multiverse, Stray kids Lore

↣ Word Count: 2.9k

↣ Warnings: nosebleeds, like two curse words

↣ A/N: This isn't beta read. I got a prequel to this. Y’all want to read it? Might even do a part 2 lol.

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↣ Affiliates: @cultofdionysusnet , @skzstarnet, @k-labels ,@k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You glanced around the auditorium with a bored expression. You were sitting between some parents, a yawn threatening to spill out your mouth. You shuffled in your seat for a moment, trying to get comfortable in the metal chair but it seemed impossible with how the shoulders of those next to you seemed to touch you.

When a marching band of children began to walk out on the stage, you turned your attention to them. There were eight of them, each with different instruments and blue suits that made you giggle at how cute they looked. They got into position, ready to begin playing their music.

You leaned back, waiting for the kids to start. However they just stood still, looking out into the crowd with blank faces. You frowned, moving to sit up again as you looked around. The crowd seemed to only watch the kids with blank faces as well, not daring to move an inch.

Turning back to look at the kids, your eyes went wide when you spotted a group of masked men standing behind each of the kids, your breath getting caught in your throat. You stood up from your chair, making it fall back from the thrust. You gasped, choking on air as you climbed over the people in your way towards the exit.

Looking behind you, your throat closed up as the masked men moved between the kids making their way closer to you. It felt like a dream, like your head was underwater and you had no idea where it was you were.

But like a wisp that drifted through your mind, you began to hear a sound. It was music coming from the back of the room.

“Just feel the rhythm of the world ’cause we will make it rock. Twist, turn and roll, throw yourself out there. Face all the noise of the world.”

You felt your body turn cold, liquid dripping down from your nose. Reaching a hand up to touch it, you pulled back to see it was blood running down. When you looked back up at the music you watched as in the dark something glitched in the walls.

The sound was coming from that direction, distorted as an image began to appear. Taking a look behind you, a scream fell from your lips when the masked men were rushing forwards towards you. Without thinking you ran forward towards the glitching wall.

You stopped just before it, turning around as you grew scared of going through whatever kind of portal that was in the wall. But it seemed you didn’t have a choice. Not when one of the masked men reached out for you causing you to take a step back. But instead of hitting the wall, you tripped on your own feet and suddenly felt yourself free falling.

It wasn’t a long drop, just enough to have you groaning from the impact–almost as though you fell from a bed. The blow was softened though because you landed on someone. Whoever it was, they seemed to have passed out from the hit.

When you raised your head, you noticed it was two people you had fallen on. Their heads were smashed into the marble flooring, making you huff as you shuffled backwards and off the offenders. They had clown masks on, guns in their hands.

When you shuffled along the floor, you hit someone else causing you to turn around. The boy looked at you with wide eyes, hands tied behind his back. Your own eyes went wide as you realized who it was you were staring at.

“Han Jisung?” You called out, causing the rest of the tied up group to whip their heads towards you. “What the shit? Am I dreaming?”

“Tie her up.” You were suddenly lifted up and shoved between the members of your favorite k-pop group.

“I will cut you.” You sneered at the masked clown man.

Turning your head, you noticed it was Seungmin and Felix they dropped you next to.You tried to kick your feet, but the man shoved his pistol in your forehead, causing you to shut up.

“You didn’t cut them.” You turned to your right looking around Felix, finding Lee Know who spoke to you.

“Do I look like I have a knife?” You retorted.

You struggled a bit in your ropes, getting a feel for your body. Everything felt real but for some reason your body didn’t comprehend where it was your mind was going. You could feel everything touching your skin, feel every hit and bump but it took you a while to react to it. It felt like you were underwater once more, trying to swim in thick waves that were holding you down. Like everything was real but at the same time it wasn’t.

“I have to be dreaming.” You huffed, feeling Felix reaching out for your fingertips.

You turned to look at him, watching as his eyes sparkled as he looked at you. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head in confusion. There was a pain in your heart, like you wanted to cry after seeing him. Like it was finally right to be next to him.

“This isn’t a dream.” He told you calmly, fingers finally touching yours and wrapping them together.

“Kick me.” You blurted out, not believing that Lee Know was speaking to you that way.

“Why would we do that?” Hyunjin threw over his shoulder, trying to turn to look at you.

“So I know I’m not dreaming.” You spoke.

“I’m not doing that—” Felix began but stopped when you felt pain on the side of your thigh.

“Ah!” You jumped, scooting closer to Felix with a pout as you turned to the person who kicked you.

“Seungmin!” Changbin gasped from the boy’s other side, slapping him the best he could with his arms tied behind him.

“They said to kick them.” Seungmin snorted. “I don’t discriminate.”

“This is real.” You gasped out, your breath turning ragged as you realized you were in the presence of your favorite idols. “What the fu—”

“Language.” Bang Chan gasped.

“I was just scolded by Bang Chan.” You squeaked.

“You’re a fan?” I.N called from behind you, glancing around at the others in the group.

“Is it obvious?” You snorted. “But what are we doing here?”

You looked behind you, trying to come face to face with the other four members of Stray kids but frowned when you noticed a school bus stuck in the wall of the building. Taking the moment to finally look around your surroundings, you realized you were in a bank.

“Wait.” You spoke up, finally coming to the realization.

“What?” Lee Know asked.

“This is a movie.” You frowned, finally noticing recognizing the clown masks around you.

“The Dark Knight.” Han grinned to himself, happy to have been the first to find the reference.

“I’m Batman.” Felix spoke with his deep voice, giggling to himself afterwards.

“No.” You shook your head, wiggling harder to try and get out of your restraints. “Gotta get out of this or we die.” You looked around for the real joker, but frowned when you couldn’t find him.

Looking around once more, you noticed how the boys were calm over the whole thing, only moving just a bit. When you looked back up your eyes went wide at the figures who were coming closer to you. You could easily recognize them as the masked figures from the auditorium.

You began to gasp, wiggling backwards and onto the boys who were behind you.

“We won’t.” Seungmin told you. “We have you.”

“Me?” You frowned.

“You’re the main character here.” Felix told you softly. “And we are your team.”

You watched as he suddenly went free from the restraints, coming to a stand as he helped you up. The others were quick to break free as well, quickly rushing forward and away from the thugs who had taken notice of the 9 of you leaving towards the bus.

“How was it that easy!?” You gasped out, hands till tied together but in front of you this time.

“Let’s get going, Cheats.” Felix interlocked your hands, pulling you along and towards the bus.

“Felix!” Bang Chan called as he shoved the door to the bus open.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you noticed the glitching within your eyes. It was like the wall in the auditorium. Felix had let go of your hand, moving forward in order to be the first to go through. Turning around when you heard a scream, your eyes went wide as you finally noticed the Joker rushing towards you.

This wasn’t in the movie when he threw his mask to the ground and licked his lips menacingly. The 8 figures who were behind him were also for sure not in the movie as they started to rush towards you. They ran past the joker who pulled on the string that you knew was connected to the grenade.

“Let’s get going before we blow up.” Turning you were suddenly thrown forward towards the glitching bus door by Bang Chan.

Just as you passed through whatever portal that was, you closed your eyes from the loud bang that was heard but suddenly it came to stop midway. When you opened up your eyes again, you were found with all 8 members looking down at you as they checked on you.

“All good?” Changbin asked, hands on his knees as he bent over you.

You hummed, nodding your head quickly. When you sat up, Lee Know moved forward to take off the rope from your hands. You watched him quietly, looking up to meet his eyes. He gave you a smile, causing you to blush.

When you stood up, you looked around your surroundings to find yourself in what you thought was an old ship. It was the captain's quarters by what you assumed with the maps and trinkets laying around.

“Where’s the door?” You heard Han ask.

“I don’t know.” Hyunjin moved to open the door, and suddenly all you heard were loud shouts and canon fires.

The boys all shuffled out, Felix grabbing your hand to make sure you were in between them all. Walking out onto the deck, you ducked as someone seemed to come swinging from the ropes around your head.

“Where are we!?” You screamed over the noise.

“Look like Sea of Theives.” Felix answered you, the others nodding along.

“The game?” You frowned, looking over at him.

“I found the door!” Lee Know shouted, looking over the railing.

You were suddenly shoved towards the edge of the boat, coming across the plank. They stopped for a moment, Lee Know at the front making sure that it was in fact the door to the next world they were looking at.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on!?” You screamed.

“You have to wake up, Cheats.” Felix told you softly. “Gotta remember us.”

“Remember you?” You whispered, looking over his face.

“Guys, it’s the Vultures.” Han yelled, pointing at the masked men who had been chasing you.

You furrowed your eyebrows when it was only 6 people this time, seemingly having lost two of their comrades. As they tried to rush closer to your group, two of them were swept away by the fighting pirates effectively leaving the group behind.

“Jump!” Bang Chan screamed, grabbing onto your hand as they all jumped in simultaneously.

“I don’t know how to swim!” You screamed, mouth falling shut and eyes closing as the water quickly came at you full force.

“Cheats, you gotta open your eyes to drive!”

Your eyes snapped wide open, screaming when a vehicle seemed to be heading in your direction. You quickly swerved the wheel just barely hitting the side and almost tipping over. Your breathing turned harsh once more as the dry desert was all you could see for miles on end.

The red hue made your eyes hurt and you could feel the sand getting into your lungs. The car felt heavy as you tried to work the wheel and press your foot on the gas pedal to go faster.

“Where are the Vultures!?” Hyunjin shouted.

“Found them!” I.N shouted, pointing towards another vehicle that was riding up next to your own.

You tried not to make a face at the weird haircuts the people driving had or their odd steampunk attires. But looking at the way their car was enforced you realized it was the MadMax world you were currently in.

You flinched when a loud bang came from above you, turning to find Lee Know and Seungmin armed with guns and firing at the other people. Two bodies fell from the vehicle, you looking back to see it was more of the masked men who were following you. When you looked up, there were only two men left who were after you.

“The door is over there!” Bang Chan shouted.

Without much thought, you quickly turned the wheel, finally concluding that whatever those doors were, it was where you move on to the next movie or game or whatever. You didn’t want to take another moment in the barren world where people were after you. So you practically flipped the car over, falling into the glitching image in the mountains.

Looking up, you found yourself back in the auditorium sitting between the same people once more. Glancing up at the stage, you came to stand when you noticed it wasn’t the little kids in marching band uniforms. This time it was all the members of Stray Kids, all standing with the instruments and waiting to play.

You tried to crawl over the people in your way to reach them, but fell onto your stomach as they disappeared. You tried to get back up but someone stepped on your back causing you to grunt and fall back to the ground.

“You’re your own villain.” A distorted voice spoke, leaning closer to your ear. “Look at what you’ve done.” It sneered at you.

“I didn’t do anything.” You cried, tears falling down your cheeks and onto the floor.

“You dropped those people into ruins.” They told you. “You are too powerful. You must be destroyed.”

You felt the pressure lift off you, but you screwed your eyes together as something began to press onto your head. A sob left your lips as you thought this was going to be the end for you.

But just like at the beginning of this whole trip, music began to ring out through the whole auditorium. This time it was loud and pounding. It demanded attention and vibrated everything around.

“Rock and roll, we dancing 'til we fall. No stopping, here we go. 24/7, keep it going on…”

The pressure in your head suddenly disappeared as the song continued, but still the tears continued to fall. You felt liquid falling down your nose again, red dots falling onto the ground as you tried to raise your body.

As the song continued to get louder, you felt your body finally coming back to you. It was familiar now, the song that you would listen to all the time as the voices of the members brought you to somewhere you couldn’t explain.

It was your anchor.

A hand was held in front of you. Looking up, you came across Felix, the rest of the members standing behind him as they all looked at you with kind eyes. They were all filled with emotions you didn’t know you could witness. Emotions that made you want to cry all over again from the familiarity behind them.

One by one, the members all gave Felix a look before turning to leave. When you got to your knees, Felix was left alone with his hand stretched out towards you.

“It’s time to wake up, Cheats.” Felix told you softly. “We gotta go home now.”

“Home?” You whispered softly, your blood drying up on your nose now.

“They’re waiting for us.” He said, referring to the other boys. “Let’s go home.”

Looking at his hand that was waiting for you, you reached up fingertips touching the center of his palm. After that you felt the large pressure on your mind disappear.

It was cold where they had you but you could feel your body moving within someone’s hold. Your eyes felt heavy but you were able to flutter them open just enough to be met with the ceiling. Your head hanged off someone’s arm, vision blurry as it focused in on what you assumed to be a prison room.

“Lixie?” You swallowed thickly, looking up at the freckled boy who had a small smile on his face.

You heard shuffling coming from around you, making your turn. You found the other boys giving you bright smiles, happy to see that you were finally looking at them. You took note of how much they had matured from the last time you saw them. How much tougher they looked after such a hassling adventure.

“Hey, Cheats.” Felix spoke softly.

“Your mind is a very wild thing.” He laughed.

“That’s why I have you to keep me sane.” You smiled, moving a shaky hand up to his cheek.

Looking around at the other boys who chuckled to themselves, you grinned thinking about how they had been idols in the world you had spent so long in.

“You guys going to give me my own concert now?”

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arcade-writing · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!! I wanted to possibly request a ghost x trans male reader smut? Possibly w knifeplay and breeding?

Also hope you are doing amazing!! 🫶

Long overdue

🍋 nsfw

Pairing: Simon "ghost" Riley x transmasc! reader

Warning: fem & masc ways to describe readers body, implied T-dick, mating press, sir kink, breeding kink, some talk of pregnancy and family, overstimulation, minor knife play, teasing, creampie, dirty talk, unprotected sex, reader is made semi flexible for these positions to work, stomach bulge, pussy slapping, edging, sadistic! Simon, masochist! Reader, manhandling, slight pregnancy kink, possessive sex, he's harsh yet sweet

Ngl when it comes to breeding kinks I'm abit out of my element. I'm not exactly sure what people wanna hear. So I hope this wasn't too bad 🙏 it's one of those kinks that's pretty new to me as a concept I get and isn't one I usually read

Normalize trans men discussing these kind of things without judgement in a dominantly cis male environment. Men can be fathers and "mothers" (if they'd like to use that term) and I don't think that's a bad thing. People want what they want and things like this shouldn't be so strict with gender.

I wanna apologize for taking so long to getting back into writing, I'm sure if you're following me you'll know I've been pretty inactive and focusing a lot of my oc's at the moment. I got deep brainrot and got some other personal stuff that's really sapping me of my motivation. I kept getting a lot of burn out and it's honestly annoying because I still have things I'd like to write. I like to make jokes that it's asexual burn out; just too much sex stuff but low-key starting to feel like that may be it.

I hope this can make up for it or atleast, show I'm still interested in writing for y'all

It wasn't often you were allowed to breathe. Able to just walk the streets without firing your gun at the enemy. You let out a sigh as you and the team patrolled the city streets, people clearing out of your way. Avoiding your eyes as you watched them roam. It wasn't often you let yourself think; it was risky in a profession like this. Letting your mind wonder could be the fatal mistake that finally gets you killed.

But here you were. Longing gaze at a couple across the way. A baby gurgling and squealing in their hands. You use to think baby fever was a myth; you weren't, what you considered, parent material. Besides, the chances of you having one after taking hormones for so long were slim. You doubted you could anyway.

Was it because you were in a relationship? Well - could you call it that? It was complicated but you did find Simon more than attractive even if there were times his personality could be less than ideal. But you were no sunshine and rainbows either. War changes you.

You never had much of a instinct for those type of things but yet. You couldn't look away. Couldn't stop the somber twist of envy in your gut, placing your hand on your stomach. You just wanted to pinch it's cheeks. It was almost aggravating how cute that baby was. Smiling and laughing. Their soft chubby cheeks still marked with the food they were eating. Blonde Stray wisps of hair.

"something the matter?"

"ah-! Oh, no, just - isn't that baby so cute?" You cooed. Shoulders slumping as you smiled up at your fellow solider.

Soap shook his head, an airy laugh leaving him. "That's what gotten you so distracted?"

"what! I can't help it! It's like seeing a kitten, so cute and so- AUGH-!"

You wanted to slap yourself. What was coming over you? This was really getting embarrassing.

"Why don't you say hi to the wee bugga?" Soap suggested. "We can take a short moment to say hello, can't we lieutenant?"

"alright." He sighed, shaking his head sound more thant reluctant at the question. "But no more distractions, after that." He gave you a pointed look as he jabbed his finger at you. You hastily nodded.

You, Soap and Ghost, who insisted on lurking behind you, all marched closer.

"hello." The couple greeted. Nervous smiles struck on their faces. Eyeing the guns strapped to all of you.

"Greetings, who's this?" You asked, raising a brow as you waved at the baby. You almost let out a gasp as the babies fat finger wrapped around yours. Pulling your hand closer to it's face.

"Ah, this is our son, Gabriel."

You hummed, laughing as the baby refused to let go of your hand. For a being so small, they had such a strong grip. You tried to gently pry yourself but the baby just let out an "Augh" in defiance.

"Strong grip, no doubt he'll be a real fighter when he's older - maybe we'll have the honour of meeting again, protecting families like yours."

The couple nodded. Cooing at their baby as it tried to take a bite of your finger.

"looks just like ya, twins you are." Soap huffed out a laugh, jabbing Simon in his chest, his voice soft. It was a surprise you even heard it. You heard Ghost let out a grunt, no doubt rolling his eyes. Your eyes wandered from Ghost back to the baby. You could see the resemblance. It was really in the eyes, same shade of blue.

You wonder.....would Simon be a good father...? You know he has family issues so you doubt he had any desire to have this own. But maybe he did? Somtimes he'd make small comments that left your heart racing; the implication was there but you never really took the chance to think about it too deeply.

You shook your head. Finally, little Gabriel let go of your hand and you sent the family a wave goodbye. As you walked you kept letting those thoughts pile. "I wouldn't mind having a kid...." The words suddenly blurted out of your mouth. You could hear a choke from one of the other men.

"Oh? Wouldn't think you'd be interested, considering-" Soap said as he gestured to you up and down. Cringing a little at his own words.

"usually I wouldn't really be jumping to the idea but- who knows, besides I can adopt If I felt like it."

Your eyes locked With Simon's. He was staring at you. His emotions were completely hidden. You couldn't tell what he was thinking at all. Just staring. Digging holes into your very being. He remained mostly silent for the rest of the patrol. Making a few snarky comments here and there usually prompted by Soaps endless chatter and jokes.

When you met up with the rest of the team they were all laughing. The enjoyment of a more relaxed day getting to all of you, leaning on the table as they chatted amongst themselves.

"This trouble maker here, made us stop for to say hi to a baby, already trying to enlist the new forces."

You groaned as you shook your head, the team chuckling as they watched your frustration. "I thought it would be a nice comment to make!"

You let out a sigh. "it's just- I don't know, I'm thinking about my life after this, ya know? When we finally get back home, I can't be the only one who's wanted to start a family."

"you ain't." Gaz shrugged. "Plenty of men here think about it - some more than others." He scowled a little in slight disgust. Remembering the horrendous locker talk he's heard from other Soldiers.

"I've never considered getting pregnant but hey, I also didn't think I'd be enlisted in the army for this long."

The team let out another bark of laughter. "You're telling me." Price teased.

Simon grabbed your shoulder, you snapped your gaze up to him immediately, lips parting as he glared down at you. "I need to have a word with you." He looked at the rest d the team. "In private."

There was a chorus "oooooh" from Soap and Gaz as price told them to pipe down. You nodded and followed Ghost out of the hall, trying to keep up your confidence as he lead you to his room. You looked side to side to make sure you wouldn't be spotted before following him In.

You couldn't deny the fire that burnt at your veins. Anticipation slowly boiling you from the inside as you waited for his next words.

"Pants, off."

The door slammed behind you. A loud twist of the lock confirming your privacy. You tried not to grin as you began to undo your trousers. Slipping free from the heavy material as you stepped towards him.

"jacket aswell." He sat on the bed, arms folded as he watched you. You could just see the peak of outline of his cock through his pants. It made your head spin as you began to shrug off your jacket. Leaving you in your boxers and undershirt.

"Someone's desperate." He teased.

A small noise of confusion left you as he curled a finger towards himself, motioning you towards him. You shuffled over as he grabbed at your thighs, parting your legs.

"Written all over your face, begging to get fucked like the slut you are."

You gasped, breath hitching at his words. Chewing at your lip as he pulled you towards him. His hands trailing between your legs, parting your sex with his thumbs through the fabric of your underwear. Shivering at the sensation.

"Just want this needy cunt of yours used, don't you?"

You nodded. He let out a laugh, enjoying how shy you're getting under his attention. He patted the bed and you immediately climbed on, he settled himself behind you. Keeping your legs wide for him.

"let's get it nice and wet for me, so I can fuck you properly."

His fingers reached between your legs. Immediately finding your dick, considering how often he fucks you there was no doubt he could do it blindfolded, beginning to rub and tweak as he felt your dick throb under his touch. Easing you into the pleasure before he gave it a small pinch. You cried out at the sudden explosion in your nerves. His fingers suddenly speeding up. Your eyes fluttering as you leaned into him.

"Simon-!" You sobbed out. His fingers continued to mercilessly rub at your dick through your boxers. A prominent wet patch forming as you squirmed. His legs locked around yours, making it impossible as you tried to wiggle away from his touch. Your head threatening to fall into the mattress as you used one hand to keep you propped up. Your nails digging into the sheet.

A sudden smack made you squeal. His gloved fingers smoothed over your clit. Gently rubbing it as you bucked your hips. Returning to his fast pace as soon as he could see you unstiffen. Rushing you back over that edge as the cord in your stomach tightened- oh god- SMACK-! you cried out as you throbbed. You were so close....

"Look at you - so desperate." Another smack.

"Please Simon- I've been good-" he rubbed slow tight circles, letting out a hum. "Please let me cum." SMACK. you mewled at the sting as your eyes rolled back. "I've been so good sir-"

Choking on your gasp his fingers suddenly sped up. Your hips kept bucking into his touch as he lightly pressed down. TOO MUCH- OH - FUCK- your orgasm crashed over you. You didn't even realize how loudly you screamed. Hips stuttering in the air as your back arched violently. Stars in your vision never fading as he only continued. Letting out a sob as your second orgasm was forced out of you.

"p-please-! Too much-!"

"I'm giving you what you want."

You gripped his hand as you whimpered. Grinding into his ruthless touch. Your third orgasm speeding towards you. Stars filling your vision once again before it was ripped from you. His hand stilling completely as he rubbed your hips. Soothing your twitching muscles. You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a whine.

"you're soaked through." He stated. Sliding the knife from his thigh strap. Trailing the full edge up your shaky thighs. With ease he twirled it between his fingers, pointing the dull side of the blade to your clothed cunt. Dragging it slowly along the wet patch, moving the knife to the bed.

"You're desperate for a cock you can't even handle."

He guided your hips back, your sexes pressing together as he harshly thrusted forward. You rolled your hips back, looking back at him with your lip between your teeth. Pleading eyes staring into his own.

"I will - I'll take it-" you whined out as you keir grinding against him. "Please.... fuck me."

You stumbled as he suddenly pushed you forward. Standing up, holding the knife with a firm grip. He circled around, now before you, grabbing hold your leg as he yanked you towards him. Snatching both of your ankles in his hand as he positioned you to his liking. You whimpered as your back hit the mattress, staring up at him through glossy vision. Trying to restrain the smile threatening to appear on your lips.

You loved it when he was like this. Manhandling you. Ruining you. You could see that fire in his eyes shine everytime he left another mark on your skin. Everytime he made you drool and sob from overstimulation. You knew he'd only give you what you can handle; he'd never push you further unless you begged.

"You wanna get fucked, huh? Ain't you cute, begging for me." He scoffed out a laugh. The knife in his hand tugging the fabric of your boxers. Marveling at how the material was practically glued to you. Completely soaked from your previous Orgasms.

The dull side merely grazed you; leaving you whimpering. Breath hitching as the cold metal stung at your heat. "Hold still."

And you did. Holding back every urge to flinch as he slashes and dragged the knife through your cloths. Barely hitting a snag from how sharp it was. Completely exposing you; his eyes were trained on the glistening sheen sticking to your thighs. Clenching at air as you clutched the bed.

He shoved the knife back into it's holder. Tugging at the belt of his pants. You couldn't stop the small trail of drool escaping past your lips as you watched him take out his cock from his boxers. Giving himself a few slow jerks, smearing his precum along the thick head.

"please.....Sir... please....." Your legs already felt strained as he kept your ankles locked tight in his grasp. Threatening to push them over your head as he rubbed his cock against your weeping folds. The tear in your boxers keeping him flushed against you as he grinded. You mewled as it peaked out. Your hand shakily reaching out, rubbing the head of his cock as more pre-cum began to ooze. Biting your lip as you pushed it back down to your hole. Guiding him inside, letting out a whine each time it came out. Smacking against your clit.

"seems I need to prep you more, still so tight." He let out a breathy chuckle. Taking joy from your desperation but you weren't gonna quit. You shifted your hips up more, Aligning yourself up to him. Practically pulling his cock deeper inside with each clench. "atta boy -" He let out a groan as he finally snapped his hips against your ass.

Adjusting himself more as he crawled onto the rigid mattress. Putting you into a mating press. Your hands clawed at his arms as he thrusted into you. Each smack of skin echoing through the room. Only getting drowned out by the sounds of your moans.

"fuck- feel that?" His fingers pressed into your stomach. You could feel the bulge twitch everytime he fucked into you. "Like how that feels? Stuffed and feeling that pretty tummy of yours get bigger - bet a slut like you would want more."

"how about this big?" His hand hovered just above you're stomach, you could hear the grinning in his voice as you whined. "Or...this Much?" He kept raising his hand, "You'll get a nice belly after I'm done, won't stop until I know you're stuffed, you want to keep being bred? Tell me, use your words."

you finally broke, letting out a pathetic sob as you nodded. "PLEASE-! breed me- take me- I want it- I want you-!"

"That's it, good boy."

He let go of your ankles, knees digging down into the mattress as your clutched your thighs, holding them in the air as his hands planted either side of your head. Angling his thrusts into that perfect spot that had you clutching and shaking around him. His pace brutal as he slammed down into you. you could barely catch your own breath from how fast he was fucking into you.

"Who do you belong to? Say it." He grabbed your chin, holding you in place as your eyes fluttered. Drool pooling out as you tried to let out the words form a knot in your throat.

"You sir-!"

"and who's the one fucking you like this? Making you feel good." His voice was deep. Practically growling. His face was still covered by his mask but you could see that spark in his eyes. glaring down at you, challenging you.

"you sir-!"

He leaned down, you let out a loud squeak as he was about to hit even deeper inside. Eyes locking as he spoke once more. His breathing growing more heavy.

"and who the fuck am I?"

"Simon-!!" He rolled back his lips and slammed into your hole. Letting out a deep growl from his throat as he tried to regain his energy. Settling for hard deep thrusts.

"Louder."

"Fuck- SIMON!"

As soon as he was able to get his pace back he was fucking you like it was a end of the world. Wasting no time; the head of his cock kissing that pleasure spot over and over. His pelvis grinding against your puffy clit as you tried to meet his thrusts.

"That's right, scream it for everyone to hear, let them. Know who's taking you." He was panting, eyes rolling back as he felt how tightly you were hugging his cock. You were so close already. He could feel it. Feel how you gushed. Could listen to wet slap of your pussy for hours knowing it was him that was doing this. Knowing he was the one ruining you for any other man. He practically built you to be his perfect toy to fuck.

"Stuff you full - want me stay inside you? Keep you nice and plugged up or would you rather I put a thick toy in that desperate cunt of yours? Have you walk around and act like my cum isn't trickling down your thighs."

"I know they want a piece of you, I can see how they look at you, I wonder how they'd like watching you spread those nice legs of yours and show off how much I stuffed you - watch it drip out and all over the floor."

He couldn't help but let out a mocking laugh. "Bet they'd beg for a taste."

You couldn't even bring yourself to speak. Far too flustered to even think. You could see it in your mind so clearly. Shivering as you could feel the phantom sensation of lips between you legs; hungrily sucking as they taste you and Simon's cum.

"clenching so hard - that got to you, didn't it?"

"Simon- I'm gonna-"

You squealed as he pinched your dick. Legs clamping down onto his waist as you tried to jumped away from the sting.

"Not until you admit it."

Your mouth open and closed. Grasping at words that melted immediately on your tongue.

"You want to be everyone's little whore, spent up toy for the team, get bred by so many men, hell- pass you around one by one - is that why you were so insistent on acting up this morning? Trying to get them thinking about how much they'd want they to knock you up."

You cursed as he began to rub your clit. Tapping it with his thumb before moving it into tight circles. "YES-! FUCK-! SIMON-!"

He let out a shaky groan as his hips slapped into your ass. Burying himself inside completely as you came, ricocheting his own release. Thick ropes of cum coating your cunt as he fucked it inside you. You went limp as he kept filling you up. Revealing just how pent up he was. Completely stuffing you with his one load already.

You panted as you laid there. He rubbed up and down your trembling thighs. The ache soothing under his firm touch as he rolled onto his back. Keeping himself flushed to you, helping you ride out your orgasm as he moved your hips for you. Slowly fucking you up and down his cock as he spilled every last drop inside.

"Fuck...." He sighed. Hips stuttering as he slowly grew limp. "That's it, take it all, good boy."

You whimpered as he locked his arms around your middle. Keeping you pressed against him as you both panted. Completely wiped out. You nuzzled into his shoulder as you felt your eyes begin to close. Needing a few minutes to regain your energy. With how lively that look in his eyes still were, you'd need it - especially feeling how his cock was now semi hard again.

He was going to make good on his words.

#nsft #call of duty mwii #cod mw22 #cod modern warfare #ghost x you #ghost x male reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost x y/n #trans male #trans reader

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reciprocityfic · 25 days ago

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champagne problems, chapter nine

title: champagne problems fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march rating: m summary: amy accepts fred's proposal, and laurie comes home and marries jo. but instead of it being the end of something, it's just the start of something bigger.

(or, how laurie and amy find their way back to each other.)

chapter one: champagne problems chapter two: right where you left me chapter three: it’s nice to have a friend chapter four: the end is here chapter five: moments that we stole (on begged and borrowed time) chapter six: this godforsaken mess chapter seven: love slipped beyond your reaches chapter eight: cracks of light

evermore

Amy’s wedding is nothing like she’d ever imagined it would be. She remembers Meg’s quaint backyard wedding, and how she’d boldly told her older sister after the ceremony that, while this was nice, when she married one day, it would be the talk of the entirety of Concord for at least three weeks, with elegant dancing and delicious food and a guest list of at least one hundred. Meg had smiled fondly, put her arm around her youngest sister, and making sure John wasn’t looking, whispered in her ear, “Do it, for the both of us, yes?”

Amy felt a pang in her heart then, for her lovely sister who, although happy and deeply in love, had always had a penchant for beautiful, out-of-reach things. So she kissed Meg on the cheek, and promised. Even then, Fred Vaughn’s face popped into her mind, even though there in the peripheral vision of her brain was a wisp of brow curls, the shine of hazel eyes. She had resigned herself to the fact that he would ask Jo any day now, that all her childhood longing was just a wish that never came true. And she was okay with that. After all, there would be more wishes to chase now, in Europe with Aunt March. With her art.

Oh, how things change, she thinks to herself as she walks down the stairs of Orchard House with her father beside her, dressed in pale blue with a bouquet of Beth’s wildflowers clutched tenderly in her fist. Father had agreed to marry them graciously and without hesitation; their whole family had embraced their union with smiles and open hearts, and they were now waiting for her in the front room.

Or maybe, it’s how things stay the same, as she rounds the corner and sees him standing there in front of the fireplace - the same place she had first seen him all those years ago, her face flushed and stars in her sleepy eyes. She can’t see her own face, of course, but she’s sure the look on it now is no different than it was back then.

He’s staring at the floor when she first lays eyes on him, dressed in a light gray suit that she recognizes immediately; he’d worn it often during their days in France, and it was the suit he was wearing that first time he’d asked her to marry him.

Don’t marry him.

And she’d wanted to believe him so badly, wanted to smile and fall into his arms. Yes pushed against her lips, beat in her heart, but she swallowed the word down and shook her head, told him no over and over as her stomach churned.

She’ll never have to say no to heart - to him - ever again. The thought turns the corner of her lips up.

Her next step makes a floorboard creak, and his head snaps up at the sounds, eyes wide in nervous anticipation. But then, their gazes lock, and a slow, gentle smile spreads across his face. She sees his lips mouth her name, and her vision starts to blur with tears, but she bites her lip and blinks them away. She wants to remember every moment of this with perfect clarity.

It feels like it takes ages to close the small gap between them. When her father drops her arm, she has to stop herself from running to him, and as soon as she’s close enough he reaches for her, grabbing her hands, slipping his fingers in between hers and pulling her in so that they face each other, only inches between them.

She tilts her head up, stares at his beautiful face; she has the battle back the urge to stand on her tiptoes and kiss him, push a stray brown curl from his forehead and run her hands through his hair. She only resists because she knows that they have the rest of their lives now for gestures like that. Forever . So just this once, she’ll be good.

She’s sure her father says something beautiful during the brief ceremony, but she doesn’t hear him. She can’t focus on anything but Laurie, on the way he gazes at her, full of love. He brings her hands up to his mouth and kisses her fingers before saying, “I do,” low and firm. Then, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a ring that he told her was his mother’s. Jo never wore it - she’d never wanted a ring, and Laurie said he’d hadn’t even been able to locate it when they married, instead returning a new ring he’d bought from a jeweler in Boston after Jo’s resistance.

He’d found his mother’s ring a week ago, sitting in his top dresser drawer like it had been there the entire time, waiting for this moment.

She speaks quickly when it’s her turn to say her vow, just as she had when she’d said yes on the hill a few weeks ago. There’s no need for hesitation or pretenses anymore, and she’s never been more sure of anything in her life.

“I do,” she murmurs, breathlessly, and the soft smile that’s been playing on his lips since he laid eyes on her today breaks into a wide, happy grin.

“Then, by the power vested in me, I declare you husband and wife. You may - ”

Her father can’t even finish his statement before they reach for each other. She grabs the lapels of his coat, he tilts her chin up, and their lips meet in a firm kiss. When they break apart, she is immediately pulled away from her by Marmee and Meg, and she can vaguely hear their words of congratulations as they wrap her in hugs, but her eyes stay on him. He does the same as John and Father come over to shake his hand.

She remembers how not that long ago, she would never look at him when they were with other people, for fear that she’d stare too long, or too fondly. Instead, she’d turn her head towards the floor, closing her eyes and praying that the fluttering pain in her heart would somehow go away once and for all.

Now, she gazes at him unabashedly, and he stares back, a million promises shining in his eyes.

It’s after dark by the time they make it back to the Laurence estate. She’s tired after a day of subdued celebration with her family; of course, there were two empty spaces at the table. One for her dear Beth, who she knew was there at every gathering, in their hearts, memories and spirits.

The other was Jo’s.

Jo - the only part of this that she wishes she could change. She thinks of her sister in quiet moments, alone in New York, hurt by the people she held closest. The thought and the guilt it brings can bring tears to her eyes if she lets them. But doesn’t make room for Jo right now, selfishly wanting to leave her wedding day unsullied.

They walk hand-in-hand across the street, leaning slightly into each other. He reaches to open the door when they arrive, but pauses first, turns his head and looks down at her. Even in the darkness, she can see the adoration in his eyes, and she realizes she wouldn’t have been able to make room for Jo today even if she’d wanted to. Not when every one of her senses were so full of her husband.

“Welcome home, my love,” he whispers, and then he opens the door. Her heart skips a beat, and then she follows him inside. She gazes around at the large house as he closes and locks the door behind her. Her home. A strange feeling wells up inside her, and for a moment, she worries that nowhere except Orchard House will ever feel like her home. He comes to stand beside her, and he must feel the slight tension in her body, because he takes her hand again, lacing their fingers together.

She relaxes at his touch, and she looks up at him as he, too, gazes around the foyer, as if he’s seeing it for the first time. And she realizes that while Orchard House will always feel like home, this will be their home. The one that they build together. And she warms at the prospect.

He clears his throat.

“Now, I know it’s no Orchard House - ”

“It’s perfect,” she breathes, cutting him off. “It’s ours. ”

“It is,” he declares, like a vow.

She stares around for a few more moments, and realizes how quiet the place is. His grandfather - her grandfather now, too - had left on business a few hours ago, after dinner. They had the whole house to themselves.

He drops her hand.

“Are you hungry at all?” he asks softly, and he suddenly sounds nervous.

Her brow furrows, but then it hits her, almost knocks the air out of her, when she realizes that it’s their wedding night, and they’re all alone.

“I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen if you are. Or, I don’t know…”

He continues to ramble anxiously, but she doesn’t hear him. They’re barely a foot apart, but she feels every millimeter of space between them. Nervousness begins to turn in her stomach as well, but she gulps once and forges ahead into the unknown.

“I think I want to go upstairs,” she murmurs. It sounds almost shy, but she gets it out.

He doesn’t answer right away, and she feels more and more lightheaded with every moment of silence that passes between them. But then, he places his hand low on her back and gently pushes her against him. Heat licks up her spine as she feels every plane of her body pressed against his.

“After you, my lady,” he whispers in her ear, letting his lips linger against her cheek before pulling back and staring at her, desire unabashedly shining in his eyes. Again, warmth spreads through her, collecting in the pit of her stomach.

Their trip up the staircase and down the hall to his - their - bedroom seems to take ages. But as soon as he leads her into the large room, her heart begins to beat in double-time, the combination of anxiety of the unknown and anticipation of what’s to come flowing through her veins. The door closes behind them with a soft thud. She catches sight of the bed in the middle of the room and her breath catches in her throat, but then he comes up behind her and begins to messily kiss down the side of her neck, and she can’t think of anything but him.

He starts on the buttons on the back of her dress, but pauses on the third one, clearing his throat.

“I didn’t ask - I,“ he stutters, his voice rough and strained. Goosebumps rise at the base of her neck where his fingertips still graze the small, new patch of skin that’s been revealed by the undoing of the first few buttons. “Do you want to - “

“Yes,” she breathes, mercifully cutting him off before he tries to stumble through an entire sentence. And then, she laughs, because alongside all the seriousness of how much she wants him - every inch of him - there is the levity of happiness. The joy that he is hers, her Laurie, and she is his. Laurie and Amy, together now and forevermore.

He laughs too, and then leans forward, resting his forehead against her hair. “Thank God,” he mutters, and she lets out a giggle that quickly turns into a gasp as he goes back to unbuttoning her dress, kissing every new inch of her that’s revealed along the way.

He takes off her dress and unlaces her corset deftly, and she cringes slightly as she remembers why, remembers that he’s done this before, more times than she cares to think of. Jealousy of women she’s never met or known tries to bubble up inside her, but as he takes her hand and helps her step out of her skirts, he looks at her in a way that makes her feel like she’s the only person who’s ever existed, and she’s reminded that he is only hers now. She gets to kiss him and touch him in a way no one else ever will again. And she gets to love him in a way no one ever has.

They both kick her clothes to the side, and then they face each other, her in nothing but her chemise now. His hands go to her hips, and he pulls her against him for what seems like the thousandth time tonight. Still, it isn’t enough. She tilts her head up and meets his lips with hers, and he kisses at her open mouth, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip before sinking into her mouth.

She’s never been kissed like this; the only time that’s come close is that morning on the sofa downstairs, the closest they’d ever come to breaking a rule that was even more forbidden than the ones they’d already shattered. This is that and so much more - there is no guilt, no fear or hesitation. They hold nothing back now, and it is so much - nearly too much - but she only wants more of it.

She’s about to wrap her arms around the back of his neck, but the buttons on his shirt catch her eye, and she can’t stop her hands from moving towards them, the prospect of seeing more of him too tantalizing. Her fingers are not nearly as skilled as his, but he reaches down to help her, thankfully, and in a flash, his shoulders and torso are bare to her. Her palms go to his skin immediately, her fingers splaying over his ribs before he ducks down and sheds his trousers and undergarments in one swoop.

And then she sees him, all of him, for the first time. She has a sudden urge to cry at the beauty of this moment, and goes to reach for him again, but he’s on his knees before she can, staring up at her, the look in his eyes suddenly very serious.

“If at any point something hurts or feels uncomfortable, or you simply don’t like what we’re doing, you have to tell me. Alright?”

She nods at him.

“Alright,” she breathes, and a small smile crosses his features.

“This is for you,” he murmurs, kissing her knee before his hands dip underneath her chemise, his fingers sliding up her thighs and bringing the undergarment along with them. “Everything I do for the rest of my life,” he says, with a kiss to the side of her left thigh, “will be for you.”

She gasps slightly when the chemise is pushed up enough that she’s bared to him for the first time. He pauses for a moment, and she’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s staring at her. It makes her want to squirm, but not in a bad way. He exhales shakily, and she almost moans when she feels his warm breath wash over her. He kisses her right hip, then just below her belly button, before standing up quickly, taking the last of her garments with him.

He stares at her again. She’s never had anyone look at her like this before - hungrily, shamelessly, devoutly - and it doesn’t make her self-conscious like she feared it would. She’s too caught up in him to feel anything but endless desire.

He moves towards her quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She squeals slightly before letting out a breathless laugh that he reciprocates as he moves them across the room and towards the bed, laying her down with the utmost care. He kisses her, his hand coming up to cover her breast as he does, and she moans into his mouth, her body lifting into his. She feels him, hard against her stomach, and she aches. She isn’t even completely positive about what she’s aching for - she knows that it goes inside her, but she doesn’t quite know the exact mechanics - but she knows that she wants it more than anything she’s ever wanted before.

He pulls his mouth away from hers, their lips smacking, and she’s about to protest when she realizes he’s moving his mouth down her body. He moves his hand from her breast and kisses it instead, before taking her nipple into his mouth. She moans again, clenching around nothing. She feels empty, she realizes. Like she needs something inside her.

Almost on cue, he speaks.

“Have you ever had anything inside you before?”

Before she can think of an answer, he moves to her other breast. She lets out a squeak that she would be embarrassed by, but he moans around her nipple at the sound, the vibrations traveling pleasantly across her skin.

He lifts his head from her, and she takes it in her hands for a moment, holding him still so she can come up with an answer to his question. Have you ever had anything inside you before? What?

“Some women use their fingers,” he explains quickly, sensing her confusion. “Or other tools to…do it to themselves.”

She pauses, stares up at the ceiling. Tools? What is he talking about? She’s about to question him further, but then he begins to kiss down her stomach, sticking his tongue out to lap at her skin, and anything else other than this moment right now becomes unimportant.

“No,” she whispers, and she feels him nod against her before continuing his journey downward, kissing further and further until, oh, he spreads her thighs apart and settles between her legs. He stops moving, and she leans up onto her elbows to look down her body at him. He’s staring at her, mouth open and panting, and again, she can feel his breath against her.

“Laurie,” she groans, inpatient for what’s coming. Again, she doesn’t know exactly what it is, but she trusts him implicitly.

“If anything hurts…” he cautions again.

“I’ll tell you,” she promises.

In a flash, he presses his mouth to her, and she gasps. He moans against her, and then uses his tongue to lap at her, licking up until he finds something that makes her toes curl against the bed.

“Laurie!” she yelps, leaning back against the bed, and she feels him smile.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” she breathes, her back arching as she grasps at the sheets below her.

It’s divine, she would tell him if she was capable of stringing together a few words. But she can’t right now - Laurie, this moment, this feeling take up her entire mind.

Her muscles clench around nothing again, and although this feels incredible, she knows there must be more. She wants more .

Again, it’s as if he can read her mind.

“Do you feel empty, Amy?” he murmurs against her.

She moans.

“Do you want something inside you?”

“Yes,” she tells him breathlessly.

He repositions himself slightly, and then, his hand is at her entrance, waiting there.

“Laurie, please,” she cries, and then his finger is circling her opening once, twice, coating the skin in the wetness pouring from her before pushing inside gently.

“Oh.”

He begins to move the finger in and out of her slowly, and brings his other hand up to rub the spot he was licking at with his tongue earlier, massaging it in small, gentle circles.

She pants as his finger moves inside her, and reaches for him blindly, needing something to ground her in the midst of what he’s making her feel. She tangles her fingers into his dark hair as he crooks his finger just so, and she tugs. He moans loudly, the beautiful sound ringing out into the otherwise still room, and pushes a second finger inside her suddenly. She gasps as she feels herself stretch further. It doesn’t hurt in the slightest; instead, it makes the fire burning inside her brighter and more potent.

She feels her pleasure start to build as he continues to pump his fingers into her, a steady pressure below that lifts her higher and higher the more he touches her. Her hips begin to move on their own accord in rhythm with his fingers, her body canting her hips instinctually.

“Laurie!” she gasps after a moment, the pressure building to a point that is nearly unbearable. He presses his lips gently against the side of her bent knee.

“It’s alright, my love,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”

The pressure snaps, like a string pulled too tight, and she lets out a deep moan, the speed of her hips increasing as she clenches around his fingers. She sits up suddenly, pulling him as close to her as she can in their slightly awkward positioning, clinging to his body. He murmurs sweet words into her ear that she can’t quite make out as she comes down, dropping kisses onto her shoulder every so often. When her breathing slowly begins to steady, he moves the both of them up the bed and lays her back down against the mattress.

She kisses him gently, and then pulls on him until his body collapses on top of hers. She rests her cheek against his hair. Her joints feel like jelly, and her hands still shake slightly, but she’s never felt more at peace. A slow smile turns up her lips.

They stay like that for a moment - she thinks for a minute that she’d be content to stay like that forever - before he kisses her collarbone, and lifts up his head so he can look at her.

“Do you want to be done for the night?” he asks gently.

And then she registers the fact that he’s still hard against her thigh, his hips moving ever so slightly as he searches for some sort of relief.

“No,” she says firmly, and pulls back slightly so she can gaze into his eyes. “We’re not done yet.”

She moves her leg slightly, purposefully brushing it against him, hoping it will bring him the same pleasure he had brought her a moment ago. His eyes squeeze shut, and he lets out an unsteady breath before allowing a small smirk to appear on his face. She giggles.

“Not quite yet,” he quips, and he kisses her deeply once before reaching down between them. He moans as he grabs himself. Then, she feels him, pressing against her entrance.

“I love you,” she murmurs, and he looks up at her again. She sees the same peace she feels reflected in his eyes. He leans down, kisses both her eyelids and the tip of her nose before covering her mouth with his.

She can feel the same heat from earlier start to pool in her stomach again, and she knows she’s far from done tonight. When they break apart, he drops his head down into the crook of her neck, pressing his lips against the delicate skin there, and begins to push into her.

She moans, tangling her fingers into his hair again as he enters her. It’s much more than two fingers, of course, but he’s slow and gentle and steady and it feels like everything she dreamed it would be. When he’s finally fully inside her, he lifts his head, his breath unsteady and his eyes shining with both desire and adoration.

“As I love you, Amy,” he vows, reverently, as his hips begin to move.

#laurie x amy #amy x laurie #little women #little women 2019 #amy march #theodore laurence #amylaurie #cprobs

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writerseclipse1 · 9 months ago

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[four seasons of love] chapter 1: a welcome arrival

a joel miller x reader series by @writerseclipse1

|| next || fsol masterlist ||

warnings: reader is in her 30s, joel in his 50s, abby in her 20s, mentions blood, injury and murder, small description of (canon-typical) physical violence, guns and other weapons, lmk if i missed anyt.

summary: jackson is stunned by an unexpected yet certainly welcome arrival. the plan falls into place a little too perfectly, like two sugars in a plain, black coffee.

word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ a/n: first chapter done!! hope u guys like it <3

++++++

March 19, 2037

“I hate it here,” Mike grumbled under his breath, slinging his rifle over his shoulder to adjust the thin material of his shirt. He heaved out a sigh, cheeks tinted a slight pink as a cool wisp of wind—left over from winter—brushed over his face. From his left, he heard a snicker and, turning his head, he saw Eugene stifling his laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“I mean, if you hadn’t fucked up last patrol, you wouldn’t be here,” Mike scoffs at Eugene’s chuckling, the bitter man crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at Eugene with a less-than-pleased look yet this did nothing to ease Eugene’s chipper mood. “Do better at your job and maybe they might let you patrol Jackson next time.” Eugene bursts out in a fit of laughter when he sees the corner of Mike’s mouth curl up into a sneer, his mouth opening to retaliate. The retort dies in his mouth however, when the latter sees a figure from below, back hunched and a trail of blood at its feet, and Mike’s heart leaps out of his chest when it collapses right outside the walls of Jackson.

“What the fuck is that?!”

The gates open and half a dozen men clutch their weapons, laser focused and pointed at their target, ready to shoot on command and at will. Maria clutches a pistol in one hand and a scanner in the other, swiftly attaching it to the neck of the intruder. The apparatus lets out a ‘click’ before the screen turns green. The woman signals the group to advance, their feet trudging along the grass.

They crowd around it, one of them nudging the body with the butt of his rifle but backs away when Maria clicks her tongue and gives a pointed look. “What do we do with it, boss?” The woman pauses, weighing her options before she sighs and shakes her head, surveying the blood absorbed by the soil.

“We take ‘em in.”

++++++

“Whatcha waitin’ here for?” Tommy’s head perked up at the sound of his older brother’s voice. His lips form a half smile, meeting Joel halfway to give him a side hug, wrapping one arm around his older brother’s shoulder.

“Been a week of waitin’ but we got a newcomer comin’ outta the med bay. Found her right outside the walls,” Tommy mused, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall behind him, staring at the curtain that separated him and his brother from the newcomer, the doctor, and Maria, who he speculated was speaking to the newcomer. “If she was out there for ten minutes longer, she woulda been dead before we even got here, well, that’s what Nolan told us.”

Joel acknowledged this with a huff, nodding as he let himself absorb his brother’s words, but something was out of place. “Hold on, where’s she gonna stay? As far as I know, we haven't built any new houses.” The older man already knew the answer but he still asked, praying that his guess wasn’t the case.

“Yeah well, about that,” Tommy grimaced at Joel’s sharp glare. “Now, come on, give the girl a break! She was just on death’s doorstep, be hospitable for once.” He nudged his brother’s arm but before the latter was about to counter with his inevitable refusal, he interrupted him. “I’m sure you know how it feels to be bleeding and alone. Wouldn’t want our guest to feel that way, do ya?”

It stopped Joel in his tracks, looking at his brother with an unreadable expression, the gears turning in his head as his decision was swayed by practicality versus sympathy. In the end, the soft sigh that Joel lets slip out of his mouth was the source of Tommy’s satisfaction. The younger man patted his brother’s shoulder with a grin, nodding his head. “Thanks, Joel. And who knows? You might like the girl more than you think.”

Joel didn’t get to retaliate before the curtain was pulled back, revealing Nolan Matthews—head doctor of the infirmary—with a mask that certainly did nothing to cover his evident smile, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he neared the two. “Good news, she’s alive and well, and definitely expecting a full recovery from all the injuries she sustained. It’s insane how she got here with all of it, though,” he turned to Joel. “Best keep an eye on her for a couple of days until she’s completely back on her feet. Just give me five minutes and then you’ll be allowed into the room.” Once again, the doctor gave Joel no chance to respond before he disappeared behind the curtain.

Tommy ignored Joel’s pointed gaze, a victorious smirk gracing the younger man’s face while his brother greeted him with a scowl. “So now we’re tellin’ the whole town that a girl’s gonna stay in my place forever?”

“Not forever, unless you want her to.” The groan that escaped Joel’s mouth did nothing to ease the smile from his brother’s lips. In fact, Joel swore Tommy’s grin just got bigger. “Come on, you have an extra room! It’s just until we get a couple more materials to make one for her, that’s all.” If Joel looked closer, he would have seen the way Tommy’s hand moved behind his back, his fingers crossing as he licked his lips. No way in hell would Tommy make a new house for just one person when someone else had a functioning extra bed. Plus, he thought he was helping his brother out. It’s been a while since Joel had mingled, maybe he just needed a bit of a nudge.

“You two done? She’s ready to meet you.” Maria’s voice cuts them from their internal squabbling, the two nodding their heads as they push themselves off the wall. ““Couple more materials” my ass,” Joel muttered to himself as he moved the curtain out of his way and entered the room.

Joel was the first one among the two that you laid your eyes on, your gaze staying on him longer than it should have before your eyes flittered to his brother. Maria cleared her throat, tearing your attention from the two imposing men. She introduced the pair to you, her lips spreading out into a warm and welcoming smile. “This is Tommy, my husband,” she held his hand, squeezing it in her grasp and you gave him a meek smile as he tipped his head in your direction. “And this is his brother, Joel.”

Joel’s gaze had been pinned to the floor the entire time but when he felt Maria’s hand on his shoulder, he looked up. He looked much younger than you knew him to be but the greying hairs on the skin of his jaw and the ones on the side of his head told you otherwise. A swift glance gave you the chance to peek through the hazel glaze of his eyes, telling you of the murders he’d committed, the hardships he’d gone through, and the love that had slipped from his hands. Like his brother, he nodded his head in your direction, eyes still piercing into yours. “Welcome to Jackson.”

The corners of your lips turned upward, your own name slipping through your lips as you looked between the three, your eyes eventually focusing on Maria as she started to speak. “Thing is, we don’t have your house ready yet, but Joel offered his spare bedroom for you to stay in until we finish. Is that okay with you?” If you paid closer attention, you would have seen Joel glare at his brother and the smug smile on Tommy’s lips but you only nodded, slightly surprised that you were still welcome in a settlement with about 300 people.

“Yes, of course. I’m just grateful you still have room for one more person,” your voice came out small, looking up at them with gratitude. Before you could react, Maria had engulfed you in a hug, her accepting gesture making you relax even the slightest, almost making you forget what you had come here for in the first place.

Almost.

“You’re always welcome here and there will always be room,” she smiled, helping you stand on your shaky legs. “Now come on, we’ll show you around.”

++++++

“Take your shoes off and put ‘em in the rack before you come in,” Joel’s gruff voice cut through the air as you followed him up the steps to the porch which was painted a light shade of brown. Heeding his request, you untied your boots and let the laces hang down the sides of the shoes and without another word, followed him into the house.

After you had finished your tour around town, Maria had insisted that Joel lead you to your “temporary” place of residence and show you your room. The sun hadn’t even set, its rays still shining down on Jackson without abandon but you felt the exhaustion of the week spent in the infirmary slowly come down on you like feathers dropping onto your shoulders.

The exterior matched the interior, with minimal furniture and a layout that was certainly easy to memorize. The kitchen and the dining area on your left and the living room to your right. Other than looking over his shoulder to see if you listened to his earlier request, Joel paid you no mind, letting you explore the house as you wish. Hanging your jacket on the coat stand and placing your boots in the rack, you headed to the living room first. You sighed softly at the warmth of the fireplace as your fingers ghosted over the brown, worn out leather of the couch and a part of you wondered just how many times he had accidentally fallen asleep on it rather than his bed.

A sudden ‘thump’ from your left drew your curiosity to the corner of the room. You took a second to appreciate the small library Joel had set up on a wide, wooden bookshelf and to also admire his slightly obvious affinity for reading. He didn’t seem like the bookworm type, especially if you took him at face value. A book laid on the ground and as soon as you picked it up, you wiped the dust off the cover with your sleeve. “An Idiot’s Guide to Space.” It made your eyebrows raise in curiosity, the pad of your thumb brushing over the somehow sleek cover of the book.

“Didn’t peg you as a space nerd,” his head tilted in the direction of your voice, eyes focusing on you as you kept your back to him. Smoke rose from the surface of his coffee, watching it disappear as he let the comment hang in the air for a while but you didn’t mind, not expecting a reply from him in the first place.

“‘M not. I’m into woodworkin’ and a lil’ bit of history but none of that—” he brushes it off with a wave of his hand in the air. “—whatever. But, uh, Ellie, she likes space so I’m tryna figure out half the things she says.”

“You have a daughter?” You would be lying if you said you were surprised.

“No, no.” Shaking his head, he wiped his hands on the towel that hung from the oven, idly walking toward you. “She’s a kid I came here with, saved her from getting eaten alive out there.” His footsteps got nearer and nearer and you felt your words die in the back of your throat when you felt his presence behind you, the scent of coffee and his natural aroma invading your senses. You made no move to turn, your eyes scanning the title of the book over and over until it was ingrained in your mind.

You snapped out of your daze when he cleared his throat and you looked over your shoulder, seeing a cup of coffee in each of his hands and you hurriedly returned the book to the shelf. Turning around, you carefully took the mug from his left hand, blowing gently before taking a sip. You peered at him from over the rim as you muttered a soft ‘thank you’, not noticing how he hid his face by sipping his own coffee.

Not long after, you found yourselves on the couch, a noticeable space in between you and him. Joel was never one for small talk but he gave himself the chance to indulge in it, just this once maybe. He found it comforting, talking to someone with no apparent knowledge of him and his actions prior to his new life in town.

“Five years huh?”

“Yep.” Joel would consider himself a quiet person so it was a surprise when all the questions you asked didn’t go unanswered. Some were short and brisk but you seemed to understand him, not pressing on the subject unless he elaborated further. “Time’s fast though, it’s the reason my back always hurts like a bitch.”

Your chuckle echoed through the otherwise empty house as you leaned over to put your now-empty mug on the coffee table, right beside where Joel put his. The embers in the fireplace crackled, the fire fizzing as it slowly died. A sigh escaped your lips, making Joel’s head turn and watch as you rolled your shoulders. “I guess that’s my cue to go to bed.”

“Alright then,” he stood after you, his palms pushing him up and he tipped his head toward the stairs. “Lemme show you your room.”

It wasn’t anything startling, a simple bed next to the window on the left and a small dresser on the right. You were just grateful for the clean sheets and the assurance of the locks on the front and back door. Pulling the handles, the dresser revealed a small pile of clean clothes that smelled like they were fresh out of the laundry.

“I traded a few things in for ‘em, don’t mention it.” He said, seeing your mouth opening and about to release a cluster of words of gratitude and ‘you didn’t have to’s. “‘Just wanted my first guest to be comfortable.”

“Well, I’ll rate you five stars on Airbnb,” you teased, biting your lip to suppress a smirk when he let out a hearty laugh, one you heard from Maria to be a “rare find these days” yet you find yourself chuckling along with him.

“Wait, you know what that is?” An excited expression graced his face, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and his teeth showing as his lips pulled up into a grin. His arm went up to rest his weight on the door, his free hand resting on his waist.

“I’m not as young as you think, Mr. Miller.” He extended a hand toward you and you looked up at him through your eyelashes, his laugh turned into a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Call me Joel.” The edges of your lips quirked up as you took his calloused hand into your smooth one.

“Nice to finally meet you, Joel.”

You learned two things that night: Joel was in his 30s when the outbreak began and he gets talky when he gets his coffee.

++++++

“Took you long enough,” the blonde's familiar voice echoed from behind you and you bit back a groan.

Sometime after the moon was high into the sky and you were sure that Joel had locked his door, you quietly slid out of bed and down the stairs, relief flooding you for the absence of a creaky staircase. Slipping your coat back on, you grimaced at the thought of soiling Joel’s living room before you ultimately decided to grab your boots and put them on once you got out the back door.

Sneaking out—of the house and of Jackson—was easy enough but navigating through the night without a flashlight made the hairs on your neck stand with every soft whisper of the wind. You remained on high alert, hands grasping your gun tight but you felt the tension in your shoulders relax when you saw the familiar shack, a dim glow lighting up the inside.

“Give me a break, he was a bit chattier than what you told me,” you muttered, slumping onto the couch beside Manny and Owen, giving both men a fist bump. Leaning back onto the backrest, you slung your ankle over your other knee and crossed your arms over your chest as Abby stayed standing, watching the small fire flicker inside the lamp. “What now, boss? Do I bring out the good ol’ golf club and finish the job?”

“Are you ridiculous?” Came her retort and you bit back a laugh at her annoyed expression. “If that was our plan, his brother might come after me and we’d all be dead. If you wanted me to get killed that easily, you could’ve said so.” Her braid swung over her shoulder as she stretched her neck.

“That was a joke, Abigail, if you couldn’t tell,” you could see her jaw tighten, as if she was stopping herself from bashing your head with a golf club. Her distaste for you was loud and clear and it was evident the feeling was reciprocated.

The plan was simple: infiltrate Jackson, get Joel to fall in love with you, lure him out of Jackson by pretending you got kidnapped, then Abby finishes the job in a ratty, old cabin without any witnesses, the same one you were in right now.

“And why me? She could do it herself if she really wanted him killed,” you mused as you glanced at Abby, crossing your arms as Isaac tries but fails to stifle a chuckle.

“No way in hell,” she snarled, her hands balling into fists from the top of the table. “Am I gonna get all lovey-dovey on the man who killed my father. If anything, the only time I’m gonna be laying my hands on him is when I finally get to murder that son of a bitch.”

“You’re also closer to his age than Abby.” Owen piped up, pushing himself off the wall he leaned on. You tried not to roll your eyes but it was difficult when he was being such a fucking tryhard.

“More important than that,” Isaac sent the two a pointed look, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. “You’re my most valuable soldier, my right hand, if I may. If there’s anyone this self-proclaimed mission needs, it’s you.” Pride swelled deep in your heart and the daggers Abby stared into your skull didn’t go unnoticed, but it went without a response.

“Alright, alright, let’s get things done,” Manny started, clearing his throat as he put his weight forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as the attention completely turned to you. “What happened today?”

Clearing your throat, your mind raked through the events of today as your teeth dragged over your teeth. “For one, it’s a miracle I got there in the first place,” your hand smoothed over the back of your neck, wincing when you felt a sting travel from your nape. “You did a number on me, Anderson, felt like I was on the brink of death when I got there.” Abby felt more than smug at your admission because making your life hell is her mission in progress, the side quest of her main task: getting revenge on Joel Miller.

Before you started to traverse through the remote area the town was situated in, Abby insisted on getting you roughed up. Just a little to invoke sympathy in the people, but she beat the shit out of you so hard you even felt bad for yourself.

“Just get on with it,” she said, a barely-there, shit-eating grin on her face but you only dug your nails into your palms, not having the energy to contest. “What about Joel?”

“Met him almost instantly, right after they let me out of my hospital bed,” you picked on the hidden bandages that were wrapped around your torso as your body started to throb from the pain you’ve been trying to conceal since you stepped foot in the town. “Then they told me I’ll be staying in his house until they get my house fixed up.”

Abby’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She wasn’t, by all means, religious but she was taken aback at how Joel was being served to her on a silver platter, like someone out there wanted her to take what she’s been longing for. Not to kill Joel, but to avenge her father in the same way he was taken from her.

“One thing I noticed though,” your voice broke her out of her revenge-filled reverie, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Was that it’ll take a while for him to fall in love with me, not that I’m basing it off on assumptions but he’s a quiet person in general.” “How long is “a while”?” Mel asked, coming out from one of the bedrooms with her hands on her hips, looking at you expectantly.

“Maybe a year if I’m right.”

“A year? We can’t wait around here for that long,” grumbled Abby, who was greeted with a groan from you. Massaging your temples with your thumb and middle finger and trying to prolong the coming of your inevitable headache, you offered an idea.

“Radio. You got one back at base and I’m sure they have one I can borrow,” you raised your eyebrows, expecting an answer from the blonde. “How’s that?” Her arms crossed over her chest and her knee bounced, a habit she had when she was lost in thought. Eventually, she spoke again yet her words were dripping with skepticism.

“Every Saturday at this time, you give us a weekly report with all the necessary details and, if you can, add in your ETC so we know when to strike. If everything is ready to go, the code word is “do not disturb.” Wrote all that down?”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” you joked, mock saluting her as you stood, only rolling her eyes at you as you shrugged your coat back on and headed out, but not before bidding them a good night and wishing them a safe trip back to Seattle in the morning. They all watched as you weaved through the thick trees scattered in the forest, their attention never wavering, not until you disappeared in the darkness of the night.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Abby to be losing sleep over this. It was something her brain did often, questioning her own methods and skills. This time, it settled on the fact that this mission would take a year to complete, more or less. Was it really worth the time?

Then again, she waited five years to kill him. Another year wouldn’t hurt, right?

++++++

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #abby anderson #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #tlou 2 #tlou x reader #ellie williams #tlou joel #joel the last of us #joel x reader #maria miller #tommy miller #four seasons of love [joel m]#fsol #the tipsy bison

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deadboyfriendd · 2 years ago

Text

Stone Gothic

Summary: Few knew your village by name, but many had heard of the terrible things that happened there. A wolf terrorizes the village you call home, and it is now taking larger offerings. The village head priest insists that you are plagued by an unholy being. Could that being just happen to be your betrothed?

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Reader, this is monsterfucking!!!, an animal dies in this (they kill a rabbit on a hunting excursion), period accurate homophobia, period accurate depictions of a witchcraft accusation and unjust trial, period accurate descriptions of an exorcism and excerpts from prayers of The Rites, heavy period-appropriate catholic influence, depictions of the reader being picked up but no mentions of a body type (it’s monsterfucking people), not beta read, not spell checked, I dumped all of my really niche knowledge of witchcraft and heresy in old europe and four years of catholic school knowledge into this, blood and monsterfucking is at the end

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 6.6K

Author's Note: (I actually don’t know if the witchraft trial is technically period appropriate because the first documented witchraft trial did not happen until the 1600s and this technically takes place in the 11th century, but I guess you’re here for the monsterfucking and not my knowledge dump.) Thanks for looming over my docs like God, Drac. @dr-aculaaa

Few knew your village by name, but many had heard of the terrible things that had happened there. The crestfallen snow fell heavy in sheets at this time of year, coating the thatched roofs overhead in pillowy caps and settling between the paving stones frozen into the earth below. You still relish in the satisfying crunch beneath the worn leather of your boots, ignoring the remorse of your footsteps leaving impressions on the perfect sheet of snow behind you. The air around you is still, frozen, suspended in time. Suspended in ice.

The death toll of the brass bell that lived in the turret in the center of town rings shrill, shattering the stillness like ice. The first time a muffled ringing that broke the ice from the stationary bell, the second a funeral march, and the third a reminder of what it meant:

The wolf has killed again, taken an early sacrifice.

The last time the wolf had killed in broad daylight, was nearly twenty years ago:

The snowfall was much like the one this year, the shroud of fog lingering wet and heavy in the orange for weeks longer than it should have. Though your mother thought of the warmer fall like a gift, your father sneered at its lingering presence with a claim to a colder, harsher winter.

Your feet were heavier, and you held less remorse as you kicked up leaves and ripped moss from its thatches where their roots lay buried in the sodden earth, Steve on your heels in his own clumsy, boyish choreography.

He was only a few years your senior, but larger in height by a vast margin. The initial weight had melted off of him in the spring and left something ganglier in its wake.

“Come on!” He chanted at you in triumph, his footing slower and heavier than your own, now, “Come on you’ve got it!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your mouth in a wisp that came from his praise, when when you dove to the sponginess of the ground, white hare struggling between your fingers– just barely caught. You rose to your knees, holding it against your chest, crumbles of soil and moss rolling off of your dresses back down to the earth.

“Now what?” You looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, breathless. You knew what he would say. You knew what had to be done.

“Now kill it.” Steve said to you, firmly. It was reminiscent of the tone your father spoke in. Authoritative and firm, “Come on. I’ll dry it for you, make you a new hide.” He reached up and put a hand firm on your shoulder. It was not the first time he had touched you like this, though, it was the first time you had remembered his warmth.

You tried, you tried so hard to drive the tip of Steve’s knife into the rabbit, but something locked in your muscles. You couldn’t bring yourself to muster enough force to end its life, “You do it.” you said to him, voice a whisper– like you were committing a crime. You pushed the rabbit towards Steve, giving him the burden of murder to bear.

He grabbed your wrist, holding it tight in his newer, firmer embrace, “No, you wanted to hunt with me and now you have to kill it.”

“I-I can’t.” Your eyes lined with tears, hurt. He couldn’t tell if it was the hurt from having to kill the thing in your hands or the harshness in which he spoke to you that caused it, though, if the burden of killing the rabbit was less heavy on his heart than the burden of making your cry was, then it was one he would bear in silence.

“You’re too soft, entirely too soft.” He whispered to you, plunging his knife in a relentless, swell motion. The rabbit died silently. It was fast, and you hoped it was painless. He tucked it into his belt to be skinned for dinner.

It was one thing to eat the rabbit, but another entirely to look into its living eyes.

When the bell tolled, you froze, immediately searching for the wolf in your proximity. Steve was fast to grab your hand, though he insists he was comforting you, you remembered the tremble of his hands entwined with yours. You remembered the tear that ran down your face as you ran for the closest cover, the rabbit blood that covered your entwined fingers.

To you, that bell was for you. You were no better than the wolf.

Steve was more stoic now, the gangliness of pubescence long gone from his body. He was more filled out now, smooth ridges of lean muscle built up under warm skin. He stood like a stone column, even when you sought him out running.

“Steve!” You clattered into him at full force, though it was still not enough to move him. He was a stone, both in his stance and in his face.

“Where were you?” He reprimanded you like a child, smoothing your hair back from your face and holding your cheeks, squishing them together into a pout between his firm hands. His touch, thought slightly degrading, thawed your icy cheeks between warm fingers.

You pulled your face from his hands, looking up into his stoic gaze, “Out fetching water” You gestured towards the bucket, now half empty from the impertinence of your panicked run back to your residence.

“On a wolf evening?” He scolded, raking a worn hand through golden locks, “We are to be wed within a month. I shouldn’t have to look out for you like this.”

You shook your head, knowing well that he didn’t need to watch over you. He took your nonchalance in stride, “Who was it this time, Steve?”

“Just some sheep in the north fields, darling.” He moved a hand to cradle the back of your head, smoothing the hair flat against your neck, "But you need to stay closer tonight, the blood moon is approaching.”

You look to Steve for comfort that afternoon around the stone hearth for comfort. Though you find it in his presence, it does not stem from his naturally doting nature. Since your betrothal, he had been cold as stone.

His sentiments remained marbeline even as you plaited your hair with clove and anointed your neck with rosewater and jasmine. Steve used to think you were beautiful, though now, it felt as though you merely existed alongside him.

The Festival of the Blood Moon was the largest celebration you could remember. They did not occur every year, and were rarely linear. The last festival you had attended, you were merely a girl. Larger this time, more filled in the waist. You remembered Steve, less gangly in nature now. You’d remembered noticing how the leanness in his arms being replaced with lines of definition now. You’d wondered what they felt like, even when you gripped his hands as he led you barefoot across the hot coals.

You missed the way he laughed then.

The tavern had been full that night, families and neighbors gathering in a mass between meals and celebration, warding off evil and hoping for abundance in the coming of spring. There was abundance tonight, rang hearty in the laughter of the village men and shrill in the squalls of children and their games. It ran in thick rivers through your glass and past your lips and settled warm in your stomach. Though, it seemed to have slithered past Steve, ambergris eyes cold as they averted around you and fixated themselves on the wall past your father’s head.

You approached him, warmth spreading through your fingertips that was unmatched by the warmth that radiated from his hands. Even now, in the dead of winter– “Steve, come on.” You tugged at his fingers softly, though he kept his feet planted.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked, neck folding as he peered down his nose towards you.

You looked towards the door to the tavern, giving him one more relentless pull before sighing, “We’re going firewalking, darling. Like you used to do.”

“That’s a child's game. We are not doing that.” It was harsher than he meant for it, though, you were older now– more able to will the tears back. He felt them in the way you drew in a breath, sharp and domineering, or the way you dropped his land, letting his fingertips stick against yours for just a second too long. He thought of the rabbit, and the silence in which it died.

If the burn of his feet against the hot coals hurt less than the burden of making you cry, then it was a burn he would relinquish.

He simmered in his own thoughts for a mere seconds too long. You had disappeared within the sea of bodies packed in the tavern. It was entirely too warm in this place despite it being the dead of winter, and he raked his fingers back through his hair, pushing the beads of sweat away from his hairline in the process. You were faster in your hurt than he anticipated, he had lost you. He hoped it wasn’t for good.

You’d disappeared to a far corner of the tavern, where Prudence sat. Heart heavy in your chest and wine heavy in your hand. It was a wretched concoction of herbal remedies and pepper, open aged and barely palatable. You had hoped for a better one at your wedding. Prudence was a hearty girl, back broad from toting mead buckets and logs back and forth within the tavern walls. She was welcoming in the places where your betrothed had not been, kind in her eyes and soft in the way she spoke to you. You craved that kindness, searched for it in Steve’s hands and searched for it at the bottom of a stained wooden chalice. Prudence had been the only kindness for miles.

She was the softness you looked for, hand in hand with her as you danced across coals in the snow, cooling your feet on the ice at the end of the path. She was the giggle that you could not muster from your own throat and the fun you sought out where Steve had grown out of it. She held your waist in an embrace as you danced a sapphic almain in the village square, tight against you in a way that you craved. Steve had not held you close to him in months. You needed this in the way you needed warmth, in a way that you had sifted through every square inch of Steve and still found nothing in his gaze.

His eyes found your face, aglow in a sea of orange firelight. You were too good for him, alight and kind and entirely celestial in nature. He’d felt bad for the way he had spoken to you in the tavern, though the ache in his chest was more bruising as he watched your dance alongside Prudence, waist to waist, the sticky wine residue still lingering on the softness of your chest against hers. He watched the way your hands interlocked as you danced with her, at the way she spun you in circles. He ached to touch you, watching the ebb and flow of your hips while you spun yourself dizzy, worn linen skirts clinging to the hills of your form in their own sapphic choreography.

It was sick, how he could be so cruel. How the other men watched over his shoulder both in endearment and snide remarks. The village knew of your betrothal, though, knowing that only marriage was binding. His core burned hot, like the coals that should have been beneath his feet– glowed orange in his chest like the wood that decomposed under the heat of the fire in the center of the village. Though, the sickness did not stop when he trudged out into the snow. It did not ebb when he snorted angry breaths through his nostrils– calming his anger like nausea. It did not end when his fingers pressed a bruising grip into the softness of your arm, pulling you back from the dance in a stumble.

“Well, thank you for minding my fiance, Prudence, but I think it’s time for us to turn in for the evening.” He had spoken to her, confusion and remorse budding across her round features.

“No, I’m not going to bed.” You told him, pulling your arm from his grip. You knew that you had sounded like a child, but you had not forgiven him yet, even when the stone nothingness in his eyes turned into something more primal, something tinted over his anger.

He took your waist in a broad hand again, grip like a vice. With a collision to his chest, breath grazing hot against your ear and chilling down your neck, “I’m sorry I spoke with you so rashly, but I am your betrothed and you will respect me”

There is a crimson eagerness doused behind his annoyance with you, and he reaffirmed it in the strong hand that fixed itself against your back, pushing you forward. You did not have a home you could return to, the home you would find yourselves in after your wedding unfinished and cold. He found himself cruel, but he would not take you there.

Instead, there lies a grainery just outside of the premise of town, secluded and wide. Inside, there is a thatch of soft hay that they keep as a reserve for the more brutal winters. You’d known many girls in the village that had been taken there, long before the covenant of marriage was established. You’d wondered if Steve had taken other girls there. Surely not, though, the thought left a burning ache in the pit of your stomach.

He sensed your tension, giving your hand a squeeze as he pulled you along. A stifled, please, thank you, I’m sorry, and I love you, in one gesture. It did little to calm your tense body, though everything to calm your more tense nerves. He was gentle in the way he lowered your back against the soft hay, though his hands spoke volumes of assuredness and his domineering nature.

The broad planes of his palms scraped scratching embraces up your thighs, where it hiked your underskirts up past where they rest on your hips. His hands gripping into your suppleness like a vice, white teeth grazing the soft fat of your folded knee. It sent a shudder down your spine that settled hot like iron in your coccyx.

“Steve” You whined beneath him, presence looming over your body in a sheild of warmth and hunger, “I-I’ve never… Never had a man-”

He reached forward quickly, pulling the segment of hair that settled too close to your eyes and brushing it to the side of your face, “I know.” He whispered to you, voice deep in a hungry growl,

“You’ve been mine your entire life, haven’t you?”

His hands lay heavy against your face, cupping your cheek in a tender grip. You feel the plane of his thumb, rough against it, bring itself to your mouth. It tugs gently at the softness of your lower lip, bringing it down as he watches you. His eyes are seething– ravenous, as they watched your face with intent. The hot, wet kisses he presses to your neck are hungry and omniscient. They trace patterns and words in languages you don’t care to make out over the curves and lines of jaw and neck, settling in the dip of your collar. He presses small pecks there, the tip of his tongue working its way past his own plush lips, reaching out to taste the sticky sweetness spilled across your chest, tasting the result of your disobedience.

He wanted you to speak, fingers now relentless between your thighs as they parted you tenderly, his soft eyes never leaving your own.

“Yes.”

Steve sat back on his haunches, now, hands gripping your ankles, his thumbs rolling over your malleolus in tender circles. Slowly, as if to not startle you, he takes your left ankle and brings it to his lips, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your ankle, trailing lines in slow, tedious patterns to your calf, then to your knee. He presses gentle bites against the softest parts of your thighs, tasting the salt of your sweat and the sticky sweetness of your arousal that laid over your skin in a thin coating.

He thanked the Lord for small mercies, your forgiveness benign to the gift that was your affection. Even more benign to the gift that waited for him between your parted thighs.

His breath was cooling against the heat of your core, slick even as he parted your knees to accommodate the broad expanse of his clothed shoulders. He reached out for your hand, buried deep in the hay beneath you, bringing it to his scalp with permission to tug as you’d please. Actually, he would give anything to feel your fingers against his scalp. The first lap leaves you shuddering against him, a tug of his hair sends him back in for a second, third, and fourth– relentless and unending. You cried out in pleasure, thighs closing in search of friction around his head.

His hands convexed the ellipses of where your legs folded upwards into your body, gripping heavily and pulling you backwards onto his mouth. This new, delicious friction caused you to cry out into the now-stagnant air, thick with the heat of your bodies.

“Quiet now, darling.” He growled against your core, a vibration that bordered against the lines of cruelty. “Can’t let anyone hear you.”

You reached one hand away from the tangled mass that was quickly becoming Steve’s hair, instead bringing your heel to your mouth to stifle any moans that found themselves spilling from between your kiss-bitten lips, though, nothing seemed to be able to tear your mind away from the budding sensation alight deep within your belly.

A rolling feeling, a pas de deux of fire, ran through you at once, though, not alight like a candle. This sensation was new– held no steadiness. It rolled and crackled and danced its fickle dance like a wildfire overcoming your body. It left your legs shaking, lungs burning with the desire to cry out Steve’s name once more. This was unlike anything you had ever felt, even when you had begun to dip your own fingers between your legs in the dead of night.

Repent. Your body is the temple of the Lord and you have defiled it.

Father Solomon was a dastardly man, though one who, not only claimed righteousness, but wielded it like a sword. A cruel, double-edged weapon for the beast with two faces.

When the bell tolled again early the next morning, it was a cow. This time, nearing much closer to the village. Flayed, gutted and scattered over several yards, but miraculously uneaten. Something almost more dastardly than the priest. Something who killed for fun.

He stood in the field, nefarious and impending, over the people that gathered over the still-steaming bovine carcass. It’s blood darkening in striking pools over the fresh snow that fell in the night. You let it create a river in the snow as it trickled downhill, pooling just before your foot and staining the polished leather toe of your shoe.

You thought of the rabbit, and the way Steve was quickly driving the knife between its third and fourth ribs, the pushback of pressure against tissue as the smatterings of blood leaked from the tip and down its white fur. You’d wondered if it was different for animals, that rapaciousness. You’d wondered if the wolf hesitated, or if the cow had died as silently as the rabbit had. You’d wondered if the wolf bore the weight of death against its troglodytic heart. Maybe that’s why it was so angry. Maybe that’s why it kept taking larger and larger offerings. Maybe it was addicted to the thrill of killing, or trying to not be so angry anymore. Did a wolf carry resentment? You would never know.

“The wolf isn’t satiated anymore.” Father Solomon growled, a rolling noise low in his throat– accusatory.

Your betrothed stood behind you, loomed large and broad from behind your back. You could feel his presence hot through your clothes, “We can see that, but why?”

“It’s the work of the Devil.” The priest gave utterance to his suspicions, “The Devil does not need a reason.”

Another man spoke from the mass of villagers accruing around the gruesome scene, “The wolf hasn’t taken an offering outside of a full moon in years.”

“Perhaps what we are looking for is not a simple wolf, but an entirely different entity altogether. What we are looking for– is a man.” The priest vociferated, loud enough to send the crowds’ mutters into silence.

“It’s not possible.” Steve finally spoke, Father Solomon’s dead turning on a dial towards him, “A man could not have done this much damage to a cow. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I have. Just after my Ordination.” Father Solomon spoke, voice suddenly quiet and eyes suddenly distant as he recalled a memory– though, you couldn’t quite tell how truthful it was, “We were called to Croatia, myself and eleven other ordained were brought to a village much like this one. A man overtaken by a demon called Baphomet– allowed him by will of unholy magic to take on the form of a wolf. He had terrorized the town for several generations, first taking the livestock, then moving on to unsuspecting women and children.”

“We’ve upheld our promise. We’ve made our sacrifices, we’ve offered our livestock. We’ve lived our lives in fear.” Another man spoke, angrier this time. His anger dissipated across the crows as the voices began again.

“Perhaps we’ve angered it. Perhaps the last hunting party backed it into a corner, made it feel like it had no other option than to kill.” You barked finally, towards Father Solomon in particular.

He stalked towards you, feline in nature as he circled your body– cutting the tie between your body and Steve’s “Sympathy for the Devil is abetting the Devil. Perhaps you are of evil creation as well.” He spoke this in your face, enough to where you could smell the rot in his breath. Loud enough to where the townspeople could hear.

“That will not be necessary, Father.” Steve asserted, hand reaching forward to grab your shoulder and pull you back towards the safety of his immediate space.

Father Solomon’s eyes remained distant, “That’s what they said in Croatia.”

There is an impromptu trial called immediately for that evening, the townspeople gathered in a hivemind swarm of depravity as you stood a kangaroo trial in front of them. There is no podium, no court, and little testimony. Only the father’s own agenda and your words twisted against you as he spoke.

“You cannot do this. There is no officer or magistrate. There is no council. This is an unjust prosecution.” Steve said to him, a firm grip on the priest’s shoulder in place of words unsaid and actions withheld. You knew it was a pressing one.

Father Solomon took a step, closing the gap between his body and Steve’s, “Perhaps you shall stand trial as well. Aiding a witch is no laughing matter.”

There is a pressing silence that rings heavy in your ears for several seconds, hanging tension unresolving as Prudence takes a shaking step forward– her eyes holding something behind fear– something resembling remorse.

“You would like to speak now, Prudence?” The father asks with a heavy hand to her shoulder, parental in nature. A rouse.

“She can walk across fire– better than the other girls can. She does not cool her feet in the snow–” Prudence began, voice shaking under the pressure.

You turned to Steve now, meeting his eyes. You’d wondered if you would be here had you not wanted to go firewalking the night before. You’d wondered if you would have forgotten the cow this morning and been back within your home, discussing which passages would be read at your ceremony. His eyes were hurt, something akin to I told you so, behind them. Underneath, yours whispered, you were right.

“ – She is sapphic in nature… l-like a succubus. She dances with women, holds their waists as a man would. She does not recognize the bound between man and woman.” Prudence continues. She will not look you in the eyes, she will not look in your direction. Instead, she keeps her eyes fixated over the heads of the congregation, far off in the distance, “She disappeared into the night. Last night. She does not fear the wolf.”

“Do you think she had motives that were ulterior?”

Prudence looked to the priest now, brow furrowing together in confusion, though, you had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what he was asking, “What kinds of motives, Father?”

“Do you believe that she was attending the witch’s sabbath?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Thank you, Prudence. I think I have made my decision.” He nodded towards her, excusing her from the trial. She did not stay for your sentencing.

Father Solomon suggests sacrifice, how a woman in cohorts with the devil is not worthy of a wedding. A worthy death for a proclaimed witch– a woman marked by the devil. A woman who has given herself to Baphomet. You are whisked away, pried from the eyes of Steve and a prying crowd, ripped from you life and anything you could have hoped for. You are placed at the seat of the altar and bound, the stone cold against your back and pressing against the flesh that covers there. The footsteps of Father Solomon, accompanied now by the lesser priests reverberate loud against the stone hearths of the church, cast heavy through holy ground.

The priests congregate quickly, three in total when including Father Solomon. They adorn the crystalline surplices, white and free of impurities, and stoles of royal grandiloquent purple. A tear slipped from your eye, thinking of your wedding cloak, adorned with the same royal thread. You would never wear it now.

Water is derived from the church well, adorned with salt, and blessed by Father Solomon. He calls upon God to reclaim the centrality of your new life. Calls upon him to receive you in baptism and the ultimate defeat of the devil through Jesus Christ.

They take turns anointing each other, then anointing you with the blessed water. They impose their hands on you, equally cold and unpleasant. Six hands with firm grips laid across your arms, legs, and forehead. Father Solomon is affixed behind your head, exsufflating your breath from your mouth as if it were unholy, and affirms your body as a temple of God, then, takes a step back, turning your face to gaze upon the large crucifix– the Lord’s cross– fixed to the wall. He holds his hand in a line, the other hand fixed firmly across your shoulder, hovering over your forehead, your breastbone, and each of your shoulders in a sign of the cross.

There are five thousand words in The Rite, you counted, an imploring formula of prayers and psalms they read aloud, anointing themselves and you between readings. They touch crucifixes you your skin periodically, each of them expecting you to cry out or your skin to bubble with the contact from the holy relic.

“En antiquus inimicus et homicida vehementer erectus est. Transfiguratus in angelum lucis, cum tota malignorum spirituum caterva late circuit et invadit terram, ut in ea deleat nomen Dei et Christi eius, animasque ad aeternae gloriae coronam destinatas furetur, mactet ac perdat in sempiternum interitum”

They perform this ritual over again in segments. Then again. And then again. Their voices grow hoarse, and their arms grow tired. There is an increasing frustration that becomes stale in the warm, stagnant air of the church. It becomes dark around you, the evening casting a sinking, amber glow against the walls, then turning to shadow afflicted by sparse, flickering candle light. It becomes warm, being surrounded by moving bodies and fire, and a bead of sweat rolls from your forehead.

“Virus nequitiae suae, tamquam flumen immundissimum, draco maleficus transfundit in homines depravatos mente et corruptos corde; spiritum mendacii, impietatis et blasphemiae; halitumque mortiferum luxuriae, vitiorum omnium et iniquitatum.”

You do not cry during the rites.

Though, when you are cast out into the snow, the sharp cold a burning relief from the staleness of the inside of the church, your body racks a sob. As you drop to your knees, you release another, and then another. The ice burns against your knees, the skin an angry red where they scrape against the ice beneath them. Hot tears roll down your face, freezing against your neck and chin as choking sobs shake from the lowest parts of your lungs.

At an instant, there are hands on your shoulders, skating and hot, though familiar to the touch. You are startled, but not afraid. Suddenly hands are claws and the soft lips of your betrothed become a snarled jaw with teeth.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I swear it. I swear to God, I won’t.”

You wake in desolation, though surrounded by warmth like a shroud.

You figured you must be dead. To be bare in the snow and still feel so warm must be purgatory. You rise, hands shaking as you push your body up with the heels of your hands, growing dizzy from the sudden change of temperature. This was not purgatory, though, you figured it may be Hell. The beast in front of you stirred, raising to meet your position with a monstrous groan. It was then that you recognized a softness behind its eyes. The beast before you was Steve.

You tear your face away from him, hand affixed against the concrete of his chest. He looked like Steve, but more ghastly. He was large in stature, both in height and width, broad shoulders and chest covered in a coarse layer of hair. His hands are still hands, though, transposed by the thick, white claws that emerge in the place of his nails.

A hearty claw reached for you, fixing itself between your shoulder blades and pulling your bare body into his chest. You did not have time to cower from him, nor did you have time to take in the nature of this form.

“Cold.” He growls, breaths harbored and voice resembling a growl before it did a voice.

Your face meets his chest where his hand has pressed against your occipital curvature, harder than he intended. He is warm, burning. His heart pounds a fast, rhythmic bass crescendo against your ear where it rests. He is much stronger than the man you knew before.

He pulls you back down to the ground, curling your body back into his own. He holds your waist tight, though you cannot tell if it is of his own want or the will of this unfamiliar strength that forces you to his abdomen. His bicep rests below your head, hot, strong breath fanning against your neck and a growl in your ear as you remain silent.

“Why?” You asked finally, not really knowing if you were referring to anything in particular.

He must not have known either, instead sitting up behind you to peer down at the plane of your cheek in questioning.

Reiterating, you asked him the first question that came to your mind, “Why did you kill the cow?”

“The same reason I killed the rabbit.”

It was your turn to stare into him. Turning in his arms, you faced him. He understood that he was a beast before you, though, the cold questioning of your eyes was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“If bearing the weight of killing it is less than the weight of hurting you, then I’ll do it. I’ll kill a lifetime of rabbits before I let myself hurt you.” He explained to you, grip on your waist tightening in place of an I’m sorry.

You fall silent, brain straying away to that now far-away place. You’d wondered if he was plagued with this curse during that time. You’d thought about the coldness in his eyes as the rabbit died and wondered if he had killed before. You’d wondered if it was necessity, or a boyish desensitization that negated necessity, or if the wolf lived behind his eyes at that tender age.

His voice pulled you from your wondering– “I’m not possessed, by the way.”

“I wouldn’t love you less, even if you were.” Your gaze was pressing, scanning his face. Your fingers curled into the thick smattering of hair against his monstrous chest, letting yourself feel comforted by him still.

“Do you love me less knowing I’m a monster?” His hand left your waist, trailing a claw up your body to grip your hand against him, thumb pressed into your palm.

“No.” In fact, you think he’s beautiful. More beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“This is a curse I have to bear alone–”

You stopped him before he could finish, his brooding not a good enough answer for you. You understood why he needed to keep this from you, you understood why he had failed to mention it to you, though it didn’t stop it from hurting your feelings, “We were to be wed. What would have happened when we lived within the same walls? Slept within the same bed?”

“Were?” He questioned, eyes growing sad.

You reached another hand upwards, pushing a golden lock away from his sad face before cradling it in your palm, “Steve, I’ve been declared a witch. I am no longer marriageable.”

“We could marry in another court. One far away.” He tried to reason with you, aloud, knowing it wasn’t worth the risk.

“The village thinks I’m dead– eaten by a dastardly wolf.” A sacrifice to satiate a hunger for another moon. “The covenant only lasts until death. We cannot be married if–

“If death has already parted us.”

“What about you?” You questioned him, “Won’t they search for you?”

“A man, so forlorn with the sacrifice of his lover that he would rather bear the burden of death than live a life without her.”

It did not feel wrong when Steve cupped your face in a sinister claw and locked on to your lips in a pressing kiss. You had been back on the Vatican of forgetfulness and purity, and the ex cathedra riff that plagued your conscience screamed at me every second that this was right. Your body lay naked against him, the hand that resided beneath your head now finding purchase against your lower back, claw scraping against the fatty plushness there. It didn’t hurt– it would never hurt.

Oh sinister sin.

This was right. His body is heavy as he drags it from the wet cave ground to hover over you. He did not rest his full weight on you, though the mass of his body was substantial enough for you to recognize a clear difference. His breath is heavier now, dissipates across you with more force and from a greater distance than before. You’d thought back to the barn, his assertiveness shrouded in softness as he parted your knees. You’d thought back to the way he held your hand and guided it to his hair, or the tenderness in which he’d plunged his fingers and and out of you at a slow, yet relentless pace. That softness was lost on him now, more primal in nature. Animalistic– a beast that needed sating.

His head was a heavy weight between your thighs, lapping hungrily at the arousal that gathered between them. It was much different in this state, the way he was able to smell, feel, and taste you in ways that one never could in his mortal state. His hand trapped you against the ground, pressing a weighted grip onto your lower abdomen, the other sinking into the fat of your hip. You tugged at his hair with one hand, still soft beyond your comprehensible belief, the other gripping on to the beastly claw that pressed into your sternum.

Oh heinous sin.

His claws trailed your ribs, sinking only deep enough to cause a raised pink line without breaking flesh before he rolled over– your body plastered to his chest under his pressing, beastly grip. He was large– larger than you had ever taken from him in the past. You reached down, felt the sheer weight of it in your hand and you stroked it experimentally. A beautiful noise ruptured from the depths of his cavernous chest, not an entirely human, though, familiar to that of your beloved. He needed this as primally as you did. Slowly, hands bracing the weight of your body against his heaving chest, you sank down on to him. You cried out softly at the bruising sting originating from your core, but relished in the pleasure that came after. Despite his size, he attempted a clumsy tenderness with you. Your opportunity for cleansing and forgiveness was closing smaller at every kiss of your neck and every drag of a vicious claw.

Oh soundly sin.

The drag of his thick cock from within you drew a sound from your bosom unlike one you had ever produced, low and groaning. He did not will your body to move, instead holding your hips in a sedentary position pistoning his beastly body against yours. He offered a whine of consolation back towards you. The roll of his hips changed from a tentative to a frantic pace, holding your body close against him as you collapsed against his chest.

His touch is both a consolation and a devastation, a comfort to your shivering form and a reminder of what once was and what will never be again. You are shrouded in the tide of his affections. You roll back over to your back, the cool ground a welcome sensation in your comedown. His head finds the softness of your abdomen and rests there, soft kisses pressing against your hot skin. Your hand settles between his shoulder blades, blunt nails trailing comforting circles against his skin.

“This was my burden to bear, and now it's your burden, too.” He whispered, a promise to you against your skin. You belonged to him, you had always belonged to him– regardless of the covenant or legality of it all. You peered outwards at the moon that cast its dewy light across you, still tinged pink from the waning blood moon.

He promised himself to you, not with the breaking of bread, but the breaking of flesh, your blood trickling down your waist and on to the floor in a slow stream that left droplets on the cool stone beneath you– a coppery wine unlike one he had ever tasted on his lips before. You whined softly in pain, but knew this was your way to be bound to him for a lifetime.

You whispered to him softly, hand raking his hair back from kind eyes, “Now may death never part us.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #monster!au #Spotify

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peterrefur · 1 year ago

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As long as her hands are so warm ⅏ Wilbur Soot x GN!Reader

Summary: William Gold, a performer, seeks a break from fame and proposes a trip with his partner, Reader, to take a break from life and slow down for a bit. Notes: Hey Mate!!! I’m Peter and I say right away that English is not my first language. I’m curious to hear your opinion about this work in the comments! Enjoy!

𝒜s LoveJoy and I extinguished the candles marking our 100th concert celebration, a wave of relief washed over me. The weight of the relentless schedule lifted, granting me the rare opportunity to relax and simply be; free from the ceaseless churn of thoughts and obligations.

I couldn't help but marvel at artists who thrive in the whirlwind of weekly gigs, or even more frequent performances! It's crazy. Especially for someone like me—an introvert who grapples with panic during crowded spaces.

𝒮o, now lying in the cocoon of our hotel bed, I steal a moment to gaze at my beloved, my anchor amidst the chaos of life on the road. They nestle closer, their rhythmic breaths stirring gentle wisps of air against my unshaven chest. With tender fingers, I weave through their hair, finding solace in the simple intimacy of our connection, knowing they'll stand by me through every storm, even when words fail to express my love.

Continuing to stroke their hair, but as I reach for distraction, checking my bank account on my phone, a peculiar sensation grips my stomach and tightens around my neck—a prelude to either nausea or panic.

I try to calm my racing breath and look towards the window in the hotel room.

𝒯he notion of living in America flits through my mind, a tantalizing prospect amid the newfound respite from the relentless demands of fame and performance.

Maybe?

Perhaps now that I'll have a break from everything... From social media, from singing, from fans, from spotlight.

Am I able to take a break? Do I even know what that means?

After all, isn't the pursuit of self-discovery worth the risk of venturing into the unknown?

* * *

“𝒮o, if I understand you correctly, you want to spend New Year's Eve in New York?" Reader inquires, their voice tinged with curiosity as they zip up the suitcase resting on the bed.

I scratch the back of my neck and lean against the bathroom door, brushing my teeth. "Not really, I want to go back to England with you for two days, maybe three. Repack. Then, we could return to New York and stay there for a while. Until March, perhaps even April?" I respond tentatively, uncertain of how my suggestion will be received.

Knowing Reader's preference for structured plans and aversion to spontaneous ‘getaways’, I brace myself for their response. “Of course, I'll organise it; I've already found a small flat, not even a studio. One bedroom connected to the kitchen and living room, but enough for us. Plus, there's a sofa if we need extra sleeping space. And don't worry, we have enough savings for it, we have enough savings for that." I say and resume brushing my teeth while listening to the silence of the hotel room.

𝒜s the moments tick by, the absence of Reader's response weighs heavily on me. Did I say something wrong? Should I have approached the topic differently? Doubt creeps in, mingling with the lingering fear of disrupting Reader's plans and inadvertently coming across as selfish.

𝒫erhaps, I muse silently, I should take matters into my own hands. Maybe Reader already has plans in mind, and my impromptu proposal is throwing a wrench into their carefully crafted itinerary. Am I being unreasonable? Self-cantered, even? Self-obsessed bitch?

I spit out the toothpaste and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

A sudden realization dawns upon me. Perhaps Reader is looking for a change, just like I am. Maybe my impromptu proposal has struck a chord within them. With newfound determination, I decide to approach Reader and express my thoughts openly. As I approach them, their eyes meet mine, mirroring the flicker of curiosity that dances within me.

𝒲ithout hesitation, I blurt out my idea, stumbling over my words in a rush of enthusiasm.

"I'm tired ... mentally. I know how much is waiting for me..." I manage a faint smile, the weight of anticipation and expectation pressing down on me. "as well as for you in the new year. 2024 promises to be very good for me. For you. For us. And I not only want a break from Wilbur Soot, but I want William Gold, to be with you now. Even if you were to force me out of bed like you used to. All I want is to rest. And I will fully understand if you say no. Because at the end of the day, I'm the one dragging you on tour and changing your plans for months." As the words spill from my lips, I can't help but acknowledge the weight of my confession. I admit, perhaps for the first time, that I haven't always prioritized their well-being amidst the whirlwind of my own ambitions and aspirations.

𝒯heir eyes fix on me, penetrating and perceptive, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I instinctively avert my gaze, unable to withstand the intensity of their scrutiny. In that moment, I feel naked, stripped bare of pretense and facade.

Yet, even in my vulnerability, I find solace in the knowledge that I've spoken my truth, laying bare my desires and vulnerabilities before them.

"Is this what you need? No. Wait," Reader pauses, their brows furrowing in contemplation as they gaze into my eyes. Their smaller hands gently cup my cheeks, grounding me with their touch. "Do you want me to be there for you while you relax? I don't want to be a problem or a distraction," they inquire, their voice carrying a depth of emotion that eludes my grasp.

"You, a problem?" I shake my head, disbelief tinging my words. "I could be the problem. All you are is a sun in my day, even when the day is full of rain. I want you by my side," I declare, the sincerity of my words reverberating in the air between us. Yet, even as I speak, a nagging doubt creeps in, whispering the fear of sounding manipulative or imposing my desires onto them.

𝒞an I truly allow myself to lean on them, to relinquish control and accept their support without reservation? And can they, in turn, offer their presence without feeling burdened or constrained? As I search their eyes for answers, I find solace in the warmth of their touch and the tenderness of their gaze.

I realise that perhaps, just perhaps, I have found the person I have been looking for so, so long.

"I will be there for you," their words, simple yet profound, stir something deep within me. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, an inexplicable surge of emotion welling up within my chest. Without hesitation, I envelop them in a tight embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of their embrace and the sanctuary of their presence.

As I bury my face where their neck meets their shoulder, a sense of peace washes over me, chasing away the shadows of doubt and uncertainty that have plagued me for so long. In their arms, I find refuge from the storms of life, a haven of acceptance and understanding that I've long yearned for.

"Thank you."

* * *

𝒮pending days together with them feels like a waking dream, each moment steeped in a timeless embrace that defies the constraints of the world around us. We walk hand in hand, weaving through the bustling streets, our laughter mingling with the rhythm of life pulsating around us.

A trip to Whole Foods becomes an adventure in culinary exploration, as we meander through aisles adorned with vibrant produce and artisanal delights. With each item we select, we exchange knowing glances and playful banter, our shared excitement palpable in the air.

Exchanging knit-caps becomes a symbol of our bond, a tangible reminder of the warmth and comfort we find in each other's presence. Exchanging knit-caps becomes a symbol of our bond, a tangible reminder of the warmth and comfort we find in each other's presence. They specifically learn how to knit to make me a cap.

Every US monument we encounter becomes a portal to the past, as we recount its anachronistic history with fervent enthusiasm. With each story we share, we delve deeper into the rich tapestry of American heritage, finding connection and meaning in the echoes of the past.

Spending time eating popcorn while watching movies becomes a cherished ritual, a sanctuary of relaxation and intimacy amidst the chaos of the world outside. As we snuggle close on the couch, the glow of the screen illuminating our faces, we lose ourselves in the magic of cinema.

Burning one joint for two, as we pass the makeshift torch between us, sharing in the euphoria of a shared high. With each inhale, we surrender to the intoxicating embrace of the moment, our bodies melting into the blissful haze of mutual contentment.

Sex becomes an act of pure devotion, a celebration of our connection and mutual desire to make each other feel truly alive. With each touch, each caress, we lose ourselves in the ecstasy of the moment, our bodies becoming vessels of passion and pleasure.

In those fleeting moments, as we bask in the warmth of each other's presence, our hearts overflow with gratitude for the gift of love and companionship that we share. Whether embarking on a little trip to visit mutual friends or eagerly awaiting their arrival at our doorstep, every moment spent in the company of loved ones becomes an opportunity for joy and connection.

𝒪ur journey to Niagara Falls with Leandra, Joe, his partner, and Ash. As we stand in awe of nature's majestic spectacle, the roar of the cascading waterfalls echoing in our ears, we find solace in the shared experience and the laughter that bubbles forth from our lips.

Yet, amidst the beauty of the natural world and the warmth of friendship, it is the presence of Reader that truly fills me with a sense of fulfilment. With each glance exchanged and each tender moment shared, I feel myself growing more and more ready for a future with them by my side.

𝐼n their eyes, I see the promise of endless possibilities and the unwavering support of a true partner.

#wilbur soot x Olga #wilbur soot x you #mcyt wilbur #mcyt x Olga #mcyt x you #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot #wilbur x you #wilbur post #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #mcyt x reader #Mammalian Sighing Reflex

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blackwood4stucky · 8 months ago

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do you trust me with your scars enough to show me your heart

author: aspen blackwood

series: wonder if it's room in heaven for savages

james “bucky” barnes x steve rogers | mcu

masterpost | 🅼 | word count: 3455 | multichapter fic

tags: creature au, non traditional omegaverse, pre war ➳ ww2 era stucky, twisted fairytale

There was always a sweetness that lingered in Steve’s nose whenever he spent time with Bucky Barnes. It was a light floral scent with underlying honey and peach that followed Bucky wherever he went. Steve was never too far behind, low eyes and an intoxicated grin gracing his features every time. It was the look of a boy caught in a snare. - A dark and twisted fairytale.

bingo fills + event prompts

@anyfandomaubingo | free space

@afgomegaversebingo | falling asleep together

@anyfandomfluffbingo | cuddling in bed

@augustwritingchallenge: april showers brings m-au flowers | flower language

@avengersbingo | soulmate au

@badthingshappenbingo | forgetting to eat

@buckybarnesbingo: round 6 | u1: bed sharing

@buckybarnesevents

babb 2023 | soulgazing [march prompt] hot bucky summer 2024 | week 4: free week

creatures & cryptids: into the wilds bingo | will o’ wisp

crossover bingo | soulmates au

@eclipsingbingo

card 1 | blood from mouth card 2 | biting

@fandombingo: r1999 bingo | rpf card: "your hands are trembling"

@fandom-free-bingo

valentine’s edition | fairy au wild edition | broken skin + childhood friends world book night edition | iele au

@hurtcomfort-bingo | falling asleep on each other

hurt and comfort bingo: pick your poison bingo round 1 | fever

@julybreakbingo: pre july 24 | canon divergence, kink: wings

kinky-things-happen | cuddling

loversbingo

the conflict | throwing a punch the reeling | unsure & suspicious the solution | dark magic

scalding hot: consent issues bingo | wings as erogenous zones

@seasonaldelightsbingo: language of flowers bingo | spearmint [warm sentiment]

@stuckygeekevents: stucky geek bingo | tension, body image issues

@sweetspicybingo: hurt/comfort bingo | hand holding

@the-slumberparty: sundae bar | cookies & cream: soulmates

@yearoftheotpevent | march: fairytale au

read ch. 1: a maze you love getting lost in

ao3 | sqwa

mini playlist

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aevallare · 11 months ago

Note

Minthy x Halsin for drabble request?

this is not a drabble but that's fine. 497 words.

deluge.

The night after Minthara helps Wisp and her wizard and her band of do-gooders free Reithwin of its curse, it rains. Last Light Inn is long behind them and the dirt beneath their feet turns to mud and when Minthara joined their party, the druid’s tent had become hers, and she stays dry.

He had cited a preference for sleeping outdoors, and Minthara is not one to turn up her nose at luxuries which others are idiotic enough to relinquish. He has not complained once since.

But it rains. And Minthara is not one for empathy, but the druid has proven a formidable ally. To not have him at full strength would be folly.

She pulls the flap to the tent open and seeks him. Her eyes are by far the best in the party under these conditions, and it takes only a quick sweep of the campsite to find him huddled under a tree in his favored bear form.

There’s no chance in the hells that she’s going out in this downpour. With the parasite, she reaches out to him, brute-forcing her way between the folds of his mind. It’s easier to communicate with the others — their tadpoles are naturally receptive — but Minthara’s used hers this way many times on goblins outside of barking distance.

Rest will elude you the whole night long in these conditions.

In the darkness, Minthara sees an ear tilt upward as if that will somehow facilitate his understanding of the voice in his head. Then again, he’s the only one in this camp without a tadpole of his own.

What awaits us in Baldur’s Gate will be no small feat to overcome. Your best is the only condition in which you are of value to the party.

But the druid doesn’t move.

Must I fetch you from the rain myself?

At last, he stands, and Minthara steps back from the open flap into the warmth of the tent once more as his magic glows around him. He’s an elf fully once more when he stands on the threshold, face stern.

“Defile my mind that way again, and you will know the Oak Father’s fury.”

He’s an imposing figure, but Minthara is not in the habit of being intimidated, and certainly not by surface elves. “Don’t be a fool, druid. Much as I, too, am loath to admit it, our journey will be easier if we can coexist. I was not myself when I marched on your grove and I have no interest in poisoning an ally. Be a bear if it sets your mind at ease, but know this — if I wanted you dead, you would be. Your shape would not matter. Accept my grace for what it is.”

His gaze remains stony, but he steps into the tent.

“We are not friends, drow.”

Minthara smirks. “Perish the thought.”

He remains an elf. In the future when the weather is inadequate, he takes his rest in the tent. They stay dry.

#bg3 #minthara baenre #halsin #baldur's gate 3 #prompt fill #fic #mine #alex writes #rarepair april. binch.#asks

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rabioa · 11 months ago

Text

Nasir's Prank(?)

Nasir (Twst OC) x reader

With a grimace you marched towards Sam’s shop. You were upset and you had every right to be. You loved your friends; they helped you so many times, but you have to admit, sometimes they need to know boundaries. You wanted to throttle Grim and Ace.

They loved to be mischievous, and so when April Fool’s Day came, they couldn’t resist the temptation to pull pranks on you. The pranks started out harmless: They snuck pepper into your cake, they hid your shoes, they even moved all the furniture a few inches to the right so everything looked off, but you couldn’t figure out why. These pranks were funny, and you did enjoy them.

Then, the nature of the pranks got a bit more annoying: They propped a bucket of water over a door you walked through, they tricked you into opening a glitter bomb in your own room, and the last straw was when Grim tried to hide under your (now glitter-filled) bed and jump out and scare you with his fire abilities, only to singe your uniform. You were a lot more peeved now.

Grim apologized for the uniform, but he did it in Grim fashion, which meant he did not apologize. Go figure. After chiding him plenty and sending him off to practice his magic, you changed out of your ruined uniform. This was most definitely going to be paid through Grim’s allowance.

It all brings you back here, inside Sam’s Mystery Store. You grumbled to yourself the entire time as you tried to find a proper replacement vest for your uniform. It was difficult because the vest wasn’t like the other dormitories colors.

The shop was brimming with activity. Sam was running an April Fool’s sale with a bunch of knick knacks and gadgets to prank friends with. You could even hear Kalim’s voice somewhere in the store and he rarely went shopping himself! After rummaging through all of the uniforms that hung in neat lines, you gave up on searching on your own. You needed to find Sam. Only problem was he was all over the place, making cash like true businessman. You roam the shop, chasing over the echos of his voice when you turned the corner and bumped into a tall imposing figure.

Oh, it was Nasir. You never really interacted much with Nasir, but you knew he was the second attendant for Kalim, right next to Jamil. His odd swirling hair ebbed and flowed like wisps of smoke as he peered down at you.

“Hello Prefect,” He greeted you with a coy smile. A default expression of his. “You seem worse for wear,” he noted as he resumed shopping as if nothing happened.

“Ah, yea, Ace, Deuce, and Grim got carried away with their pranks. How could you tell?” You asked, so certain you had cleaned up well enough.

“You have glitter all over you. You remind me of gold shavings.”

You flushed. It was embarrassing to be so messy around such a cynical figure. “Thank you?”

“Thank me not. You should be thanking your friends for such a spectacle,” He replied, his voice as cutting as ever. Nasir had such an odd way of speaking as the words were smooth and velvety, but it always felt so harsh whenever he spoke directly to someone. Perhaps it's that ancient authority that caused him to intimidate others with simply his tone. Kalim could be heard on the isle next to you guys.

“Jamil, I think I heard Y/N somewhere! Let's invite her to our banquet!”

This seemed to catch Nasir’s attention as his eyes slide over to the isle separating you from his duty. His gaze then slides over to you as his smile seems to widen. It was a predatory grin as he reached out and wrapped a long arm around your shoulders, firmly coaxing you further into the store and further away from Kalim.

He let his arm down your arm till he grasped your hand. His hand was surprisingly warm, like touching pleasantly heated sand. He ducked under the uniform rack and into the blazers and vests. Only a few strands of his floating hair and his eye could be seen through the gaps of the uniform blazers. He gently tugged your hand towards him, using his free hand to create a sort of passageway for you to enter the space between the racks and the store’s wall.

You hesitate, and he notices. Kalim’s voice gets louder. He leans a bit out of the darkness and it’s comical the way his head is peaking out of the clothes. “I don’t bite. I merely want to try something out and I need your help.” He convinces you.

You figured a servant of Kalim’s wouldn’t dare hurt you, so you step into the darkness. He hadn’t let go of your hand yet as he sits down. You follow suit, not out of will, but rather because your hand went down with him. He finally let go of your hand and you notice how cold the air feels compared to him. He grabbed a row of uniform shoes and placed it in front of you both, effectively concealing each other from the store.

“I heard today is a holiday. April Fool’s, was it? I had never participated before,” He stated it with a mischievous grin. You were most definitely confused with his train of thought. He opened his mouth to continue only to close it and let his gaze harden as he looked cautiously towards the store.

Kalim’s voice could be heard, calling out your name excitedly. Through the clothes you could catch small glimpses of Jamil and Kailm’s legs. You were about to answer Kalim’s calls, only for Nasir to place his hand over your mouth. He had a coy smile as he raised a single finger to his lips, shushing you.

Bewildered, you stared at him rather than the scene before you. His mouth remained as you focused on why he was doing all of this. It’s not like you guys were close. You don’t think he’s ever even approached you out of his will! Now he dragged you behind some clothes and you don’t know why. It was clear you guys were hiding, but from who? Kalim? Although it was entirely impossible, you couldn’t foresee why he would do such a thing.

“Its main focus is pranks, correct? To cause minor inconveniences to those around you as a joke, if I’m not mistaken,” He spoke up in a quiet mutter, cutting you from your thoughts. His hand was gone from your mouth, and you didn’t notice when he moved it.

“Uhh,” You blinked, only further lost. “Yea, that’s one way to put it I guess,” You nod.

His grin only grew. “I believe you just helped me execute a prank then,” He declared. “I heard hiding valuables from others is a common prank. I just hid you from Kalim, so that counts, correct?” He mused.

You’re stunned. He just used you, to prank Kalim. He also called you a valuable. And he is grinning at you like you just helped him rob a bank. “I… I guess so? I mean-” you pause, dumbfounded. “-Most people don’t hide other people for pranks?”’

He put one of his scarred hands to his chin, his expression thoughtful. Sometimes his mannerisms reminded you of Malleus, but only if Malleus was less innocent and more sly. “I see. I suppose I am not like most people anyways, so it matters not. I successfully pranked Kalim, and that is what matters here. Thank you, Prefect, you have been exceedingly helpful in this endeavor,” He decides as he reaches past you, invading your personal bubble.

He pulls back and fabric hits your cheek softly. He was holding up a grey uniform vest. Your eyes widen and he lets it fall gently into your hands.

“Oh, thank you!” you smile up at him.

“I saw you were searching for a uniform, and I doubt you were trying to infiltrate one of the other dorms. Not that you would need it to do so anyways. Your well known enough to roam.” He stood up and carefully slipped past the clothes and back into the isle. Kailm and Jamil were long gone, presumably defeated in their search for you.

His words were most definitely cryptic and before you could question his meaning, he spoke up. “I’m assuming Kalim will message you later, so I’ll just skip all the hassle. Kalim is holding an April Fool’s banquet tonight and you are invited to attend. Ah, if you do though, I’d suggest you avoid the lemonade, after all it would be unfortunate if salt was poured instead of sugar as a prank,” He grinned at you before he picked up his abandoned shopping basket to continue his chores.

You were left dumbfounded in the uniform rack as you try and process what just happened. That was odd. He was odd, but so was everyone else in the school. He did get you your uniform at the end… His hand was really warm.

#twst oc #twst x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #rabit-writings #rabit-nasir #rabit-ocs #im just trying my hand out at writing #idk if it is any good but if theres any room for improvement lmk

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