#and THEN. touching up the last of the tinies customs and if if i have time. one drawing for myself at the end of the day to wind down

[indig0trolls]

i can finally go to sleeeeeeeep

[foldingfittedsheets]

When deciding who to work for there is a sliding scale of employers that goes from lil mom and pop shops up to corporate monoliths. I have worked at both ends of the spectrum and I can pretty definitively say that tiny businesses are hands down the most insane employers.

The sweet spot is a place that has like 10-20 stores; that’s the best possible work environment. They’ll be polished enough to have protocols that make work structured, but not so bogged down with bureaucracy that nothing can ever get done.

This story is not from that sweet spot. This story is from my time working at Oil and Vinegar. Now, like many little franchise stores, the idea was solid. There was on tap imported olive oil and vinegar and it was really delicious. Top shelf. Unfortunately, each location was like the Wild West because owners varied wildly.

My owner was the human embodiment of Mr. Krabbs. His eyes were just constant dollar signs. Throughout my training he informed me of the price of every single piece of equipment I touched and how much it cost to replace it.

He had cameras set up to watch us, and an app on his phone to access the live feed. He’d call us to ask what we were doing when he’d just checked a camera to make sure we were being honest.

Now, the trouble was he had two locations. His location further south did amazing. It was way more centrally located and got three times the foot traffic. The one I worked in was in the snottiest mall possible in Arizona and consequently the rent was through the roof.

It was not going well for my store. We didn’t get as much traffic, so there was only so much I could do in a day. I could dust, sweep, and wait for customers. I read a lot and was frank when he called to interrogate me. I always asked for additional tasks but he never had any. What could I do to prop up a failing business?

But this man was convinced there was some Secret Reason that the store I was in was doing worse. He crunched numbers, looked at staff, and eventually hit upon the most insane possible solution.

We used too much toilet paper.

We were probably stealing toilet paper! Bleeding him dry one single ply square at a time! How dare we need to use the bathroom?! His south location used half as much toilet paper as we did, we must be thieving little monsters!!!!

Friends. The south location was populated entirely by men. My location had three people on staff who had to sit to pee. It was so blindly transparently the source of the discrepancy but this man was convinced we were making off with toilet paper to bankrupt him.

So he implemented what he believed to be an entirely reasonable response to this base treachery. We were allowed to have one roll of toilet paper. At any given time, one roll was permitted to us. This was so transparently unhinged that we protested but he insisted. If we were low on toilet paper we needed to call him to drop off a roll that he brought from his home. Smiling jovially, he assured us he lived so close by that it would be no problem!

When we needed to call him often for more he started tearing his hair out. What were we using toilet paper for?! Why wasn’t his genius plan to stop our scandalous waste working??!

Finally, the manager, the only man on staff had to pull the owner aside and be like, “Look, man, their bladders are smaller. They need to wipe every time they pee. They need to pee even more on their period. Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

Yes. It was. The manager was fired unrelated reasons and denounced as a traitor. The toilet paper ration lasted until I quit and probably until the store closed six months later.

[hoshigray]

Just want to start and say hiiiii I love the work you put out and I can't get over how amazing they are. Since you said your inbox is open I was thinking about Life Guard Choso and a little lips to lips action by the pool side at night. Include anything else you see fit I don't mind☺️.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg tyyyy !! and yippee, a choso request :DD haven't written for him in a long while

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: lifeguard! Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing; making out - sexual acts in a public place; hotel pool room - breast fondling + sucking - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! + f! receiving) - praising - implied v + p insertion (ends with cowgirl) - implied unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - cameo: Nobara (best friend) - Choso having a lil crush on reader, and lowkey being horny on the job, lawl - reader lowkey being flirty and taking the lead role.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

“Hoooohh, Ch���soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…!”

As lifeguarding night shifts go, last night’s had to be the most bewildering Choso has ever endured.

He sits on the lifeguard chair, observing the indoor pool area inside the hotel where he’s working during spring break.  Luckily, there weren’t many customers coming to use the pool during his shifts — especially the night ones. So, all Choso had to do was watch the hours go by, go to his lunch break, and occasionally come back if he was called in for the night shift. 

What sounds like a manageable task turns out to be otherwise because someone is sitting at the edge of the pool and captures Choso’s observant brown eyes from time to time. It’s you, sitting at the edge with your feet submerged in the water as you converse with your friend — he picks up their name is Nobara – about the joys of your spring break adventures for the past few days. 

Your frequent giggles and sweet voice are difficult for him to ignore, sneaking glances under his cap to see you, shooting himself internally for taking advantage to look at you in your cute one-piece swimsuit that hugged your curves nicely. And then the warmth of his blood swiftly changes to freezing temperature when your eyes land on him, averting his gaze back into the water before him.

The ripples of the water have him thinking back on the night shift last night, his cheeks reddening as he recollects the memories…

It was a lonely shift as Choso was the only person in the indoor pool area. It wasn’t until the hour touched two hours behind midnight when the door opened and came you. As someone who’s been lowkey crushing on you for the past few days, this immediately became the worst-case scenario for the young lifeguard, forced to gawk and examine your graceful swimming and two-piece figure. 

He’s been doing that for a solid fifteen minutes, suffering in silence while his eyes scan the curves of your thighs and legs and follow the droplets of water trickle down to your cleavage. Eyeing you with such indecency, what an inappropriate thing as a lifeguard.

And it comes back to bite him on the ass when you walk out of the pool and approach him to his chair, startling the pecan brown-haired hotel worker. “Hey there,” you say so charmingly, practically inviting him with just the greeting. “I can’t help but think you’re lonely here just watching me swim…Would you humor me and accompany me? Would feel bad I’m the reason you’re here doing your job at such a late hour…”

Choso knew he should shoot down the offer as he was still on duty. However, judging by how it was nearly an hour and a half from closing the pool and that most of the other hotel workers were gone, a tiny part of him was pinching him to accept the proposal of his mini-crush. It’s just a swim, in the water and out, right���?

That’s what he kept telling himself as he was following and talking with you in the pool; although every time you referred to him by his name, swam circles around his rigid body, or tittered at his words, that statement was demonstrated worthless. The lights from inside the water illuminated your frame lured Choso in with every minute, your eyes sparkling like the broken surface tension of the water.

“Hey, Choso,” God, he couldn’t believe you were calling him by his name; it sounded too dreamlike to be reality. “Have you ever given someone CPR?”

“Uhh, yeah, like once or twice,” he replied while averting his eyes to the other side of the room as if that would help his pinkish blush not be seen by you.

“Really?” You probed, bringing your frame for the water to reach your chin. “You must know the procedure pretty well, then…Hey, let me test you then!”

Huh? “What now?”

“Okay, I’m gonna pretend to drown, and you do whatever lifeguard procedure you do to get me out of the water.” You said it with such a beaming attitude that Choso couldn’t tell if you were serious. They can’t be serious…And then, you took a giant breath before allowing your body to be completely submerged in the water, sinking to the pool floor.

Choso looked to where you were for about five seconds; you two were at around the 4th or 5th feet of the pool — there’s no way you had to be serious. But five seconds turned to ten, and you didn’t exhibit any signs of wanting to breach. It caused his jaw to drop; no shot, they’re actually serious!

With haste, Choso waddles down to your spot and drives himself into the water, taken aback in perplexity when you greeted him with a wave. He then brings a hand under your legs and one to your shoulder, breaching with you in bridal style. He voices his bafflement, “Wh–What was that idea?”

“Hahaha, took you long enough; you’re a pretty terrible lifeguard for taking your sweet time rescuing me!” You jest to him, the comment poking right through Choso’s stature and dignity. 

“I didn’t know you were serious or not…”

“Drowning is always a serious issue,” you bat your eyes at him before poking the mark across his face. It wasn’t until then that Choso realized how close he had you, your face two inches away from his, and the top of your two-piece now in his line of sight for your cleavage to capture his dangerous curiosity. He turns his head to show some modesty he has left, but it’s too late; you saw him. A twinge of your lip forms a pleasant grin, “Well, you know what happens next, right?”

He blinks and brings his face back in your direction. Surely you didn’t mean that, asking the following to make sure, “Wh…What?”

“Mouth-to-mouth, of course!” Oh, this was going way too far, the poor lifeguard holding you frozen still at your goal. “Why, you don’t want to put your lips on me? Or were you sneaking glances at me these past few days for nothing?” Another arrow that shot him down; you knew!? “You’re not quite subtle, you know. Hehe, but I find that kinda cute.” 

Choso tried to explain himself, but what only came out was stammers and squeaks. Your gaze had him internally nervous and exposed, so you had to poke him even more, “So? Are you gonna leave your drowning rescuee’s lips alone or save me?”

He gulped at the phrasing, struggling to find the words to give to you. Not you were giving him a chance because your face was moving closer to his every second he didn’t answer. And when your eyelids come down, Choso hesitantly does as well and brings his lips onto your soft ones. 

The first peck was long, yet sweetly introduced you two together. You snaked your hand up his pecs to his neck, inviting him to kiss you a second time. His restraint dissolved with every sedation of your lips on his, and it vanished wholly when his ears picked up a moan. He becomes more adventurous and chews on your bottom lip, and the whimper you let out ignites something that he’s been dying to contain for this long. 

A hot and steamy kiss that was built up to happen here and now, and Choso relishes having you like this like it’s a dream. You break the kiss with a gasp for air, panting alongside him with a smile. “Well then, do I have to tell you what should happen next, too?”

When Choso silently leads you out of the pool with him, you are pleased that you don’t have to.

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

Choso moved you to one of the cushioned chaise lounge chairs to lie as he ripped you off your bottoms and greeted your lower half with attention. Being between your legs was far from what he ever imagined; however, with how you tase on his tongue and the wails you’re letting out for him, he can’t find it in himself to stop now. 

He licks your clit with a circle, and you squeak at the motion. “Mmmm…feeling’ good there, Y/n?”

“Ohhh, yesss, oh yessss,” you respond with a hazed expression, letting your euphoric sounds fill the quiet indoor pool room occupied by you two. “Fuuuck, lick me more, please…”

Even your requests to him were dear to his ears, obliging your folds with feverish laps and swirls. Your cries become louder, legs jolting with ever every lave and suck of your leaking fluids. But Choso holds you by the thighs, massage them to relax your body. Damn, you felt so soft to his fingers, wanting to have his hands on you for as long as he can.

You bite your lip when your hand grabs tuffs of his down brunette hair, egging him to give your clitoris more kisses and hurried licks that almost have you choke on your spit. “Oh, myGod—Mmmph! You’re so good at this, Choso…Ahhhh, oh fuck, feels too gooood…!”

Choso lifts his head to lock his chocolate eyes with yours, examining your reaction when he switches his tongue with a forefinger bullying inside your vagina. The insertion has your bold jerk upwards, squirming at the finger that’s scraping the velvety texture of your vaginal walls. He then kisses from your thigh up to your abdomen, sucking on your skin to tease. Once he comes up to your top piece, he uses his free hand to bring it up and finally releases your breasts for his eyes to survey. His mouth doesn’t waste time having a nipple inside, licking on the bud as he gropes the other breast.

“Ahhnn! Hahhh, hehe, you look so hot doing that,” you comment, making the young man sneak a glance at you before he sucks and nibbles on the nipple. His finger inside your cunt goes faster, having you whine when his thumb comes to your clit. Swipes to the delicate button erupt howls from your agape mouth, “Ohhhh, Hoooohh, Ch’soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…pleaseee, don’t stop…!”

He withdrew from your nipple with a soft “pop” from his lips, bringing his face inches close to yours. “Gonna cum on my fingers, yeah?” He asks to distract you from the sneaking middle finger that invades between your folds. The two digits work together to reach places you couldn’t, rubbing and scratching your inner walls with tips. 

“Yesss, yesss, I’m gonna cum…! More, more—Oh, Ohooo!” Choso kisses you again, and you happily mewl into his lips as your orgasm climbs up with the pace of his fingers and his thumb pressing and swiping on your clit. Your chasm clamps onto his digits, bringing your hands to his face to keep the kiss going as your climax hits you.

Shocks from your body prompt you to tremble under him, the walls of your slit contract around his fingers, and your hips involuntarily sway to ride out the phases of your clarity. You suck on Choso’s tongue; his groans are music to your ears while your hand travels down to his swim trunks and feels the tent of his groin.

He moans, breaking the kiss to look where your hand is. You chuckle, “It’s time to return the favor. Come on, let’s switch.”

He follows your lead and takes the position you had previously, watching you situate yourself between his legs as you bring his trunks down to have his erection spring out. He panics a little when you gasp aloud while marveling at his limb, “My, what a long thing you were hiding from me…”

Your compliment has the blush on his ears scorch him with unbearable heat, and you keep eye contact while your plump lips place kisses on the sensitive pink tip of his cock. He hitches his breath at the contact, especially at your hand, grasping his length and beginning stroking motions.

Your tongue dances around his glans and presses on the frenulum, nibbling on the rough skin while your free hand goes to his testicles, softly kneading them to provoke moans to leave his lips. “Such cute sounds from such a cute guy; keep making more for me, okay?” He places a hand on your head, a sign that you take initiative to pop his dick into your mouth. 

Bobbing your head up and down, you take in Choso’s shaft inch by inch, the warmth of your mouth doing wonders to his senses. A hand grips the cushion of the tongue chair he’s lying on, and shivers crawl up his spine when you mumble after taking it to the hilt as your voice travels through his body. 

“Mmmm…Nngohh, fuck,” he curses with furrowed brows, biting his lip when sensing your tongue lick the underside of his cock. Fuck, your mouth felt so damn good — it took everything for Choso not to rut into your mouth voluntarily. Your tight throat didn’t make it any better, and the walls enveloping his entire girth had him drooling. 

Puffed cheeks suck on him leisurely, your lips coated from the saliva covering him, the noises so erotic and out of this world. You continue to massage his balls while your mouth occupies him, alternating with your hands to go down and suck on his balls roughly.

Here is where Choso finds it hard to contain himself with every second, his thighs jerking with every sign of pleasure, throwing his head back when his dick is back inside your gummy throat. Hips subtly propel to your mouth to create more friction, and he whimpers as you happily accept him with mumbled wails and restlessly jerk him off. 

“—Kahhnn, nnmgh, shit, Yn,” your name sounds like a dazed slur, the hand purchased on your head eggs you to go faster. He almost bites his tongue when yours teases his urethra for more of his precum, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming…shiiit, ohh…!”

And you give him aid, sucking on his cock harder and bobbing frantically while you use both your hands to pleasure him more. The commotion of his lower half corrupts all of his senses, hanging by a thread to hang on and howl your name out. One last lap and harsh suck on his glans induces a choked groan, and Choso finally ejaculates into your mouth.

With the thirst pump, you instantly take him back inside your throat, drinking every bit of his load exuding from his throbbing member. He thrusts as you suck him, his orgasm shaking his being with every rut and sob. He heaves and pants, your name said in helpless prayers while you suck his soul out. And, God, does he fucking love it so.

You give him mercy and release his shaft, placing more tiny kisses on it while watching Choso’s quaking frame calm down. And when he does, you bring your body off from between his legs. “Thank you for saving me, Choso.” You crawl to place a gentle kiss on his lips with a hum, and then you relish the cute sounds he makes as your wet cunt meets his length. 

“Let me reward you by pampering you more...”

“….—op, don’t stare at him so hard!”

“Is that him?”

Choso snaps back to the present when he hears familiar voices speak — it is you and Nobara he finds that are looking at you from across the poolside. Nobara being the one staring dead at him; your best friend’s eyes feel like daggers piercing Choso’s pale skin. It made him gulp with nervousness.

Then, she cocks her head and leans to speak. “Doesn’t look so bad; don’t know about that mark on his face, though…How long was it, again?”

“Shhh, be quiet!” You slap her arm to silence her, making the mistake of looking at Choso. You two look into each other’s gazes for a few seconds, the warmth of your cheeks creeping up and having you two sever your faces elsewhere. 

Nobara saw the exchange, lifting a brow before asking you, “So, do you want me to give him your number, or would you like to fuck him again before that—Oww!!“ Another slap to her bare shoulder, she winces this time.

“Jesus Christ, shut up!”

@screampied 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated ☆ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[biteofcherry]

Don't need your name to own you

dark fae!Ransom Drysdale x female reader

summary: You're not interested in anything personal the Scaretale offers. You just want to see it from the inside. Then, once your curiosity is sated, you're going home. But you forgot what curiosity did to the cat...

warnings: dark fae!Ransom; dark!Ransom; dub-con; drugging of sorts; power imbalance; dirty talk; Master/pet undertones (but no pet play); degradation mixed with praise; humiliation; brief F/F/F; oral (f receiving); rimming; fingering; forced orgasm; squirting; anal play; anal sex, unprotected sex;

word count: 5.6k

Author’s Note: Fae isn't exactly a monster, but it's still very fitting for the Scaretale universe 😎 Especially with how wicked and devious Ransom is. It's definitely dark, even if it feels light and almost playful, too. It's how the fae get you😏 Also, this is the very first time I wrote something so long for Ransom! But I have to admit that I had fun writing this devious, kinky Ran. I know @stargazingfangirl18 is doing a happy dance about it, lol.

To the tiniest button, to the last line, to the very detail - preparation was something you excelled at. It gave you a sense of control, too. Which, in turn, boosted your confidence. 

If you were prepared, nothing would surprise you. 

It’s why you researched Scaretale for over six months; following not only the online reviews, gossip, or comments from people and monsters who attended, but also spending hours upon hours in the library and online archives. You browsed everything there was about fae and their customs.

Since the Scaretale was founded and owned by a fae, you figured it had to be created and ruled by the fae magic. Learning about it as much as you could was a smart move if you wanted to enter the club. 

And you wanted to.

It tempted you.

Not for the reasons most of the people went there - to search for love, or to taste the spicy taboo. No, you were curious. So achingly, annoyingly curious. 

You wanted to walk in there, soak up the atmosphere and observe. Your thoughts often derailed, wondering how the interactions inside the club looked like. Was it a full on debauchery (so cliche), or maybe so similar to a human club (how disappointing)? 

You’ve put a lot of thought into choosing your wardrobe, making sure to not pick anything too revealing as to not attract too much attention. As well, nothing too modest, because to some monsters that was even more appealing, with the whole innocence and fragility concept. 

You weren’t going there to fill anyone’s lust. Only to sate your own curiosity. 

By now you knew the exterior of the club by heart, having walked by it so many times and admiring the details. It had that enchanting allure of a building that stood out from all the others, veiled in mystery that one couldn’t resist unraveling. Like the abandoned, or supposedly haunted houses in the movies, where kids dared each other to knock on the door. Though Scaretale looked less creepy and more magical. 

There were big, stained-glass windows, yet nothing could be seen through them. Not even in the late evening when the colorful glass glowed from the inside, but no shadows passed, no silhouettes were visible. As if the windows were only a decoration and not a means to give view either way. 

Curved vines, with detailed leaves and thorns, weaved around the entrance. The door, too, seemed to be made from delicate, thickly woven ivy, though to the touch it was sturdy like steel. 

The door opened easily, just from a single push. They closed behind you soundlessly. 

Pleasant warmth welcomed you. Not too stifling like in most clubs, but rather reminiscent of a summer evening when the warmth lingers, but leaves room for evening freshness. 

A softest kind of breeze brushed around your ankles and up your legs, like the faintest touch of gentle hands. It teased your collarbones and swept up your neck to flick a sensitive spot behind your ear. It evoked your surprised, tiny gasp.

That sensation wasn’t palpable enough for you to startle and search for invisible hands, but it piqued your already high curiosity. 

Was it a welcome every human who entered received? Or maybe the sensations upon arrival were attuned individually? 

Or was it just your own imagination?

If your unsatisfied curiosity was pulsing earlier, now it raged with hunger. You barely kept your pace slow, while all you wanted was to immediately check every nook, study every creature, taste and touch every single detail. 

That would draw unnecessary attention. Which you didn’t need. You wanted to snoop around undisturbed. 

And definitely not becoming someone’s interest. 

Feigning nonchalance, you cast long glances at each booth and the monsters occupying it. A group of orcs, who were attempting to be politely quieter than their booming voices allowed. Two vampires, both more occupied with their sleek phones than with the pretty waitress who brought their wine. Though it seemed she had one of the orcs watching her every move.

At first, even at a second glance, it appeared that Scaretale was a boring, high end type of club where everyone was behaving themselves and only considering courting someone who caught their eye. 

But you felt that raw, intense pulsing in the air. A tension that wasn’t about to break into violence, but rather into a primal chase and claiming. 

That elegant veneer veiled a lethal doom. 

Your blood rippled with a wave of thrill. Just adrenaline, you told yourself as your instincts tensed in anticipation. 

Your gaze shifted back and forth, across the endless room, over every booth and nook and iron-wrought railings cutting off a few alcoves. Any moment now someone could snap. Any monster was bound to leap and find their prey, who would yield willingly, or put up a fight. To some, the prey would crawl over - mesmerized, enchanted, or simply so desperate. 

A venus flytrap.

The club, you realized, was like a pulsing, living entity that lured humans in with sweet poison of mystery and promises of love; only to trap them the moment a predator lurking within decided to claim them. 

You moved forward, toward the glowing oval bar that stood in the center of the grand space. As you approached, you felt your mouth going dry, your throat aching for a drop of liquid. Frowning, you forced yourself to swallow your own saliva. 

Scaretale belonged to a fae. A dark fae. There was no way you were going to eat or drink anything served here.

That’s how people bound themselves to the fae. At least according to most legends. Even if it was an exaggerated lore, you preferred not to find out for yourself. 

A blue haired woman minded the bar. She moved gracefully, floating from one end to the other in dance-like steps. Her smile was gentle, not a fake one forced to appease customers. She paused for a second as you neared the countertop, lips parting as if to ask what you wanted to drink. Before she uttered a single sound, her mouth closed and she twirled away, ignoring you completely.

You were about to study the short encounter, wondering why unexpected rudeness happened, but a different presence entered your personal space.

You felt a peculiar tickling grazing your skin, like tiny drops of carbonated drink bursting around your mouth and nose when you took a first sip of freshly opened soda, or champagne.

It wasn’t an overwhelming body heat you’d expect from most monsters, nor a piercing coldness a vampire might give off. This man’s aura was fresher. Like a stream weaving through the midsummer forest.

“Ain’t you a curious little creature?” His voice drawled in a soft, velvety mockery. 

Eyes still glued to the empty space where the bartender stood a few seconds ago, your body froze on the spot the second the mysterious man invaded your personal space. 

As his voice reached you, your curiosity yanked you into movement. 

You had to see who it was.

Your eyes found themselves on level with a male chest. Not the broadest, if you compared it to some other monsters in the club that night, but corded with lean muscles. His shirt was a pearly white, similar to satin, or maybe silk. Definitely expensive. Tiny, golden buttons on it were fucking monogrammed. 

Your gaze slowly dropped down, where his waist narrowed into tight hips and long, long legs (clad in equally expensive pants). His arms hung loosely at his sides, forearms exposed where the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up. 

His skin was fair, a faint glow caught deep beneath the skin surface. What instantly caught your attention and filled you with an alarming sensation, were the black tips of his fingers. Color darkest at the fingertips, gradually fading as it went down his knuckles and into his palm.

Not just black, but a night sky ink that seemed to shimmer a dark dust in the blackness.

A dark fae! 

Your gaze snapped up to his face. Most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. Even with the smirk curving his lips, which would usually annoy you in any human male. 

Not a single feature of his face seemed flawed, or in disharmony. His irises were a crystalline blue, but the longer you stared into them the more it appeared that all changes in the sky were reflected in the fae’s eyes. 

“You know what curiosity did to a cat, right? And yet you’re here.” He gave an almost disappointed sigh, but amusement sparked his eyes and his smirk didn’t ease an inch. 

“A stubborn little, human tabby,” he chuckled, giving you a once over. 

It was merely a flick of gaze and for some reason you knew it was only for show, because this man had been studying you for longer. Possibly, his attention was on you the whole time you thought yourself to be unnoticed as you explored the club.  

You licked your lips nervously, but still straightened your back and titled your chin up in defiance. 

“Humans are allowed here.” You bit back. “Encouraged to come, even.”

“Humans who seek a partner, yes.” He replied. His beautiful, tempting lips were ready to say more when you interrupted-

“Who says I’m not looking for one?” You crossed your arms over your chest, attempting for fake confidence to hide the simple urge to test everything. 

“You’re looking for trouble, Tabby.” The fae tutted in a soft warning. “You’ve been after it for weeks. Every single day walking around the building and learning its details with a deep hunger that a desperate slut has for her Master’s cock.”

Fire blazed up within you, scorching your skin from the inside and melting low in your abdomen. 

You weren’t sure if it was his dirty metaphor that ignited the reaction, or the scary fact that he was aware of your investigation. Of every single time you strolled around the building and watched it. 

“Since you’re so passionate about Scaretale and I’m the owner, I thought it’s only polite that I attend to your needs personally.” 

Clear sky in his irises dimmed into dusk, with blue so dark and seductive you couldn’t look away. Or perhaps it was his words that gripped you in a vice, shocking with the innuendo, but oh so tempting with it, too. 

His curled forefinger lodged beneath your chin. Then his thumb pressed to the front of it, trapping you in a grip that only seemed gentle. 

“Why don’t you give me your name, Tabby?” He coaxed and your tongue instinctively moved to roll out the answer. 

Thankfully, the cautious part of your brain was still working and you caught the side of the spiderweb he almost launched you into. 

“Nuh-uh.” Tip of your tongue flicked out to lick your bottom lip - a move that the fae caught with growing interest. “I know your kind’s tricks. I’m not going to fall for it and just give myself away to be bound. And before you offer, I won’t accept any food, or drink, either.”

You expected irritation. Anger that his smooth act didn’t work on you, while you bet so many would fall for his charm and flirting alone. Especially, since a man like that one rarely got denied anything he wanted. Fae or human, men of power and wealth were all the same in that department. 

Instead, he smiled. There was something wicked to the way his lips curved and his eyes glinted with amusement. Even the crinkles that formed around his eyes didn’t ease the growing uneasiness deep in your gut. 

“So clever.” He hummed, slowly dragging his thumb toward your lips. 

He drew a line below the bow of your mouth first, then a warm pad touched your pouty lip and brushed along it. 

It felt as if that touch grazed your clit. 

He rubbed your bottom lip again and your thighs clenched in a foolish attempt to prevent the sensation teasing your nub. 

Your body had always been quite responsive, though the fae might have been the first man to get your pussy started just from the way he played with your mouth.

“You can call me Ransom,” he offered his name, without any tricky games. Or so you thought. “Or-” he paused, for the third time brushing his thumb along your lip- “your Master.”

His hand withdrew, leaving a warm print on your chin and a tingling sensation on your bottom lip. It took your brain a second to register his words fully. Another second for your rebellion to fire up and react.

“My Master?!” You snorted in faint rage, hating how saying those words sent a jolt down your spine.

Your tongue poked out to lick the aftertaste of his touch. But it felt like there was an actual taste following, first coating your tongue then swallowed with your saliva. A little sweet, fizzing like pop-rocks. 

Staring into Ransom’s eyes, you were focused on the touch of his thumb itself. Never expecting, or imagining the trail of sparkling black dust from his fingertips leaving traces on your lips. 

Which you licked. And swallowed. 

There was no dizziness, nor complete loss of limb movement, yet your whole body became pliant and hot. Fascination with the dark fae grew into devotion, eagerness to follow him. To please him. 

“See, my fiery Tabby,” Ransom’s eyes blazed inhuman blue. “I don’t need your name to own you.” 

“You tricked me!” You accused him, but couldn’t make yourself run away from him. Quite the contrary, you itched to snuggle into his arms and purr like the kitten he nicknamed you.

“I am a dark fae.” He laughed. Then he stepped even closer, your body touching his and reacting to the proximity with increasing need. His knuckles caressed your cheek, before his hand dipped lower and his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“Now, give me your name. As you will give me everything I ask for, anyway.” 

Your name rolled out on your tongue without any resistance. Your eyelids fluttered close when Ransom rewarded your obedience with barely whispered praise and mouth nearing yours. His lips almost touched yours, holding you on the precipice until you nearly whined. 

With a triumphant chuckle, he withdrew. Your eyes opened when he snapped his fingers. 

A heartbeat later two women appeared at your sides. Both with skin glowing from within, stunning and perfect. And almost naked. They had warm smiles and mischief sparkling in their eyes. 

“Meet Dusk and Dawn.” He introduced the two fae, then directed an order at them - “Take her to my chambers and prepare her.” 

“Prepare?!” You squeaked when the women simply hooked their arms with yours and began leading you, like a group of friends might support each other when walking after a few drinks. 

“Be a good girl, Tabby.” Ransom grinned. “Do as they say. I’ll be with you in a moment and sate some of that curiosity of yours.”

“Yes, Master.” It spilled out of your mouth, before your brain even registered what you were saying. 

Ransom laughed at your shocked expression and the embarrassment that followed. 

Dusk and Dawn lead you across the club, toward the far back where the space diverted in three ways. Left and right corridors were swarmed with darkness, but the middle one was pulsing with an unusual glow. They took you to the central one. 

A few steps down the corridor and an ornate, double winged window marked its end. Nothing was visible through it, beside the yellow-green light. As they pushed you through it, like through a dry waterfall, your feet landed on a carpet so plush and dark green, it might as well be moss. 

Wait, was it moss? 

The walls of the bedroom seemed solid, no trees suddenly sprouting from anywhere. But the dark jewel tones reminded the core of the woods. An explicitly large bed stood in the middle - a frame carved of dark wood, with a canopy weaved off gauzy fabrics and live vines and so many fairy lights. 

You squeaked when the women started tugging on your clothes. They skilfully dodged your hands when you attempted to swat them away, moving fast and light like fireflies. One of them reminded you that Ransom asked you to listen and instantly that pull to obey made you cease your fight. 

A part of you hated that automatic obedience, every rebellious streak in you fussed and stomped against it. But there was also that damn side of you, which was kinda fascinated with it.

Was whatever you tasted on your lips enough to bind you to a fae? What belonging to him would entail? How deeply your body’s reactions would attune to Ransom’s commands? 

The fae spread you on the bed, cooing at you when you sank into the soft linens with a contented sigh. Their lips were warm and gentle as they kissed your exposed skin, stirring your arousal. 

You’ve never been with a woman. There was some curiosity towards it, but never an actual attraction to study it deeper. Now two were playing with your body against your will, as if you were a kitten for their amusement. 

And for the Master’s. 

The thought of Ransom joining you in that bed made you shiver. Your gaze fitted on the slopes of the soft canopy hanging above, but you imagined his face filling your vision as he settled on top of you. Between your thighs. 

A reluctant moan bubbled on your lips when Dusk parted your legs and with a giggle chased sweet kisses up your inner thighs. 

Dawn closed her mouth around your nipple, plucking the other with her fingers. 

You felt overwhelmed. Your body roused, your pussy was tingling, but you were also embarrassed, helpless, and in the back of your head still huffed that resistance. 

“Nooo!” You whined, back arching, when Dusk’s tongue licked into your seam. 

“Yes,” came an unyielding reply. 

Your head lifted from the pillows, finding Ransom standing at the foot of the bed, watching your body being pleasured. Being prepared. For him. 

He started to unbutton his shirt, lazily. All the while holding your gaze and with a triumphant look drinking in all of your expressions and sounds. He watched as Dawn kissed and licked all over your breasts and belly; as your hips rocked eagerly into Dusk’s mouth when she sucked on your clit. 

“Dusk is really talented with her mouth.” Ransom complimented the other fae, who in return parted your folds with her fingers and began licking and kissing all over your dripping pussy. “You should thank her, Tabby.”

You whined, scrunching up your nose and refusing to comply. Which made Ransom chuckle at your defiance. 

He walked to the side of the bed, one knee dipping into the mattress as he leaned across to grip one of your legs. He brought it outwards and up, opening you wider. 

There were no words spoken, but perhaps they had some telepathic communication, or maybe they’ve done this dance before - because the moment Ransom had you spread wider, your pelvis slightly tipped up, Dusk’s tongue delved down. 

Toward your tight rim.

“Oh fu-!” You cried out, clenching your eyes shut at the humiliation. 

Fae’s tongue circled your tight hole, teasing it and evoking unknown sensations. Then she wiggled it in, giggling when your pussy clenched in return, dripping more of your slick. And Ransom was watching it with growing hunger; his burning gaze focused on the shiny mess between your buttocks as Dusk licked and spit onto your asshole. 

Dawn pinched your nipples playfully for the last time, then crawled across you. Without prompting, she unzipped Ransom’s pants and pushed it down his legs. Slipping off the bed, she helped him out of the clothes completely. 

Not once did she touch him, however. 

The second Ransom was completely naked, Dusk pulled away from between your legs. Her grin was wicked, her lips shiny with your wetness and she licked it with a broad swipe, winking at you playfully.

Both fae women left the bedroom, but you didn’t pay attention to where they were going. Your focus shifted completely to Ransom, who was now fully naked and moving towards you. 

Your gaze slid from his beautiful face, down his unblemished torso. Like you assumed, he wasn’t a beefy kind of man, but there was a chiseled structure of muscles speaking of speed and stealthy kind of strength.

A tattoo of intricate vines weaved all around his pelvis; leaves and branches dipping down the V cut and running down his cock, too. 

Usually you wouldn’t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but that fae’s was… 

It was long and nicely thick, a pretty flush color that gradually darkened into the same sparkling black as the tips of his fingers. 

Would his cum be as drugging as the dust from his fingers? 

Ransom knelt between your lewdly spread thighs. His gaze lingered on where you were soaked and pulsing with need. His fingers brushed your thighs, then skimmed up your belly and over your breasts. When he pinched your nipples, it was more mean than how Dawn treated you.

Still, your chest arched and you hissed in pleasure. 

One of his hands moved upwards, teasing your neck and then bracketing your face. He squeezed your cheeks and leaned closer. A strand of silky, dark blond hair fell across his forehead, adding a boyish charm to an otherwise lethally beautiful creature. 

Ransom’s breath tickled your lips, his mouth hovering so close to yours. He let your lips brush lightly. Again and again, but not pressing harder. Until you squirmed under him and pushed against his hold to finally taste that wicked mouth. Would he taste like pop-rocks the way his dust did? 

“To you I’ll taste like ambrosia, my feisty pet.” Ransom murmured, and you were unsure if he could read your mind, or if you blurted the question aloud. “I’ll taste like your last meal. Like all you ever want to have on your tongue for the rest of your life.” 

“And when I break you-” he added, his deceivingly velvety voice more alluring than scaring- “you’ll never want to experience anything else but the pleasure and humiliation coming from your Master.”

Your brain fogged. Your body shivered with growing need, becoming restless the longer he denied you that fate. 

It wasn’t all due to his magic. That curious spirit of yours was eager to find out how many sensations he could expose you to, how it would feel to belong to a dark fae. 

“Master,” you breathed out a plea. 

“Vow you belong to me.” Ransom demanded, tightening his grip.

“I belong to you. I give myself to you.” Somehow your tongue knew which words to say and the moment they bubbled out, your body filled with a certain awareness. Like an alert humming beneath your skin, attuned to the presence of the man above you.

It wasn’t just arousal anymore, or fascination. The need to be near him, to please him in any possible way, to be used, has taken root inside of you. 

It illuminated with the power of the sun, filling you with warmth and ecstasy, when Ransom rewarded your pledge with a kiss. A sinful play of lips tasting of midsummer dreams and tongue teasing yours with promises of taboo. 

When he pulled back, you looked at him in daze and admiration. Your mouth parted wider, tongue sticking out, when Ransom dipped two of his fingers into your mouth. His other hand sneaked down your body, black-tipped fingers playing with your already pulsating pussy. 

He pushed his digits to the back of your throat, making you choke and splutter. Your eyes teared up, but you didn’t break eye contact. When Ransom added a third finger, pressing them down on your tongue and further in, you gagged. Your body spasmed, but he held you down still - fucking your face with his fingers, at the same time circling your clit with the other hand. 

He made you come just by playing with your pearl. Or maybe the strongest shockwave was from the way he forced his fingers into your throat; filling you with more of the fizzy fae dust that made you salivate and crave him more. 

“Good girl, Tabby,” he cooed as he kept his fingers on your tongue while you writhed and moaned your release. 

Your body was still buzzing with the remnants of your climax when Ransom finally withdrew his fingers. Shiny with your spit, he brought them down between your spread thighs. 

Without preamble, he thrust all three into you. 

Your back arched as you fisted the sheets. Ransom’s name was a broken cry on your lips as your pussy welcomed the intrusion. 

Like with your mouth, he set a steady, merciless rhythm. The second orgasm came quickly, not surprising you, considering how responsive your body was. It bubbled into the very tips of your fingers, making you mewl in pleasure. 

But the cloudy lull dispersed when your body registered the continued stimulation. 

Ransom kept moving his fingers. A little faster, too. He crooked them, pressing into your G-spot with each damn thrust. An embarrassingly loud squelching sound accompanied each move of his fingers.

His other hand played with your swollen clit, drawing you closer and closer to the precipice. When you whined, heels dragging against the mattress in a futile attempt of squirming away from the onslaught, Ransom’s hand changed its course. He splayed his fingers over your lower abdomen. 

And then he pressed down.

At the same time driving his fingers into that most sensitive, responsive spot. 

Your whole body jolted, bowing in half as pleasure more intense than before sizzled through your body. You screamed. 

Ransom kept going and pressing and fucking… and you kept squirting. 

Shaking and crying, you stared in disbelief at the mess between your spread thighs. Not only was his whole palm wet, but so was his forearm. A few splashes shone on his abdomen, as well. 

Your breath was ragged, your mind somewhere outside of your body, when Ransom slowed and eased you through the aftershocks. Through half-lidded eyes you watched as he brought his soaked hand to his mouth. Holding your gaze with a wicked smirk, he sucked one of his fingers clean. 

“I’ve never done that before,” you whispered shyly. 

“Oh, Tabby.” Ransom’s gaze was both parts warm and evil as he lowered his hand between your thighs again. “I’m going to do to you a lot of things you’ve never tried before.”

“N-no!” You protested when you felt where his touch aimed. 

Your fingers clenched on the sheets tighter when you felt his wet digits circle your rim. Your muscles cinched, but it only made Ransom chuckle. 

“You’re going to let me,” he teased, “because you’re more curious than scared, little pet.”

Ransom’s lips puckered in a fake sympathetic pout and he let out a mocking coo as he forced a single finger into your tightest hole. 

Your eyes were wide, your mouth opened on a distressed gasp. A tiny frown marred your forehead, as your natural curiosity probed at the new sensations he was stirring in your body. 

“There you go,” he moved his finger in and out, “taking it so good, Tabby. Such a good pet.” 

“Nghh!” You keened when he pushed a second finger in, stretching your rim wider. 

“No need to be embarrassed that you like it. You’ll come from it, I promise.” His free hand teased along your puffy folds, mercifully not touching your oversensitive clit. “You’ll come with my cock deep in your ass, pet.”

“Someday,” he mused aloud, adding his dirty words to the torment, “I’ll keep you on my cock and spread you wide, so that Dusk can feast on your sweet cunt.”

The image his words painted sent a carnal response to your core, but also provoked an irritable cord. 

“Gonna play with all of your pets, huh?” You glared; though it shifted into reflection of pleasure as fingers probed your unused channel.

“Sheath your claws, Tabby.” Ransom laughed. He reached for your face with his free hand and trailed a finger from the tip of your nose, across your lips and down to your neck. “No need for jealousy. Dusk and Dawn are a part of my family’s court. They love mischief and all things debauched, but they’re not my pets. Nor my lovers.”

He curled his fingers around your throat, demanding undisturbed eye contact. 

“I let them touch you, because it pleases me when you suffer pleasure. When that silly, human propriety and reason fight your body’s eager responsiveness.”

He hovered above you, face so close to yours that his unruly strand of hair nearly tickled your forehead.

“If I wish so, they’ll play with you for my entertainment again,” Ransom’s tone lowered, turning a honey-sweet, but thick and sticky, clogging threat. “And you won’t fuss about it, because you want to please your Master.”

“Yes, Master.” Again, it flowed out of your lips so easily. 

“Now kiss me and thank me for stretching your ass.” 

Your lips pressed against his eagerly, as if you were starved for his taste. Your tongue poked out playfully, coaxing Ransom’s response. But what you earned in return was your own strained moan as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

“T-thank you for stretching my ass, Master,” you whimpered, though you honestly weren’t yet sold on the weird sensation. Or rather your brain wasn’t yet accepting it, because your pussy was weeping happy tears again, even though she wasn’t the one directly stimulated. 

With wide eyes you observed as Ransom slowly withdrew his fingers, only to position the head of his cock right against that barely-opened hole. 

You thought he’d torment you a bit with anal play, but then take your cunt. It appeared that the dark fae had other ideas. Unpredictable ones, which made you flush with dread and humiliation anew. 

Ransom placed his hands on your thighs, keeping them spread wide apart. His hungry gaze was watching, nearly mesmerized, the way your tight, dirty hole struggled against his big cock. 

He felt your whole body tense then yield with a broken moan as he pushed the tip inside. 

Your rim opened, forced to swallow his cock. Your pussy was puffy and glistening, your clit engorged and tempting to torment it more. He noticed the way your other hole clenched in despair as he fucked into the one below. 

He knew your cunt yearned to be fucked so good; fussy that he was neglecting it for the other hole, the one so many humans were squirmy and embarrassed about. 

Oh, Ransom had every intention of fucking and filling your sweet pussy, but he wanted to play first. To torment you and your needy cunt, drawing your pleasure so high you would crawl and beg. 

Besides, taking the virginity of your ass and seeing you fall apart from having something so dirty done to you, was a pleasure most exquisite. 

You made the most delicious sounds - whimpers and mewls of crumbling resistance mixing with moans of a sweet, needy slut. 

When he bottomed out in your ass, your pussy gushed with more of your wetness. 

“What a naughty, messy pet,” he cooed cruelly. “Enjoying having her ass plowed. You gonna cum for me, Tabby? Gonna cum with my cock deep in your ass?”

You did. Crying out as your body tightened, squeezing his dick like a vice. Tears stung beneath your eyelids as he laughed and continued fucking into your sore bottom, yet pleasure still rippled as if his mockery was also a sweet caress. 

You came again when Ransom groaned his release, filled you with hot cum and landed a slap on your exposed clit. 

Rush of blood pounded in your head, muffling some of the dirty words Ransom was weaving like poetry. You stared at him with eyes glassy, admiring the raw, dark beauty of him. While he was watching your rim gaping slightly, his cum dribbling out. 

Minutes, or perhaps hours later, your consciousness drifted back from the hazy cloudy space Ransom pushed you into. You were curled in bed, the sheets magically clean of any mess your bodies produced. It was warm and safe; a thin, soft sheet draped over your naked body. 

You turned onto your back, yawning as you looked around. The canopy was drawn shut: gauzy curtains providing intimacy, fairy lights woven into the fabric glowing so beautifully. 

Behind it, you could make out a shadow of a silhouette moving around the bedroom. Judging by the size and shape, you suspected it was Ransom. You were proved right when he parted the curtains a moment later.

“Dusk and Dawn will come to wash you.” Though spoken rather softly, it was a declaration that wouldn’t welcome any disobedience. 

In your body, an eagerness to follow ignited, but your mind scowled at the prospect of being touched by strange women again. Washed and played with like a toy to be then presented to Ransom. 

When you opened your mouth to protest against being touched and aroused by the fae again, Ransom cut you with a glare.

“They will wash and dress you, and you will let them. Then meet me on the main floor.” 

“Yes, Master.” Your reply may have been obedient, but you still scrunched up your nose in discontent. 

Judging by Ransom’s broad grin, he found your pout amusing. The glint in his blue eyes reminded of a lightning ripping through the night sky. It also suggested more humiliating torment coming your way. 

[virq-qgo]

Wolverine x reader

Uh, yeah i know its been like two years LOL. Literately after posting my last fanfic my dog died of cancer. Got like super depressed lmao.. anyways i watched the new movie and i creamed my pants so i had to write the absolute worst fanfic ever. So like this is a warning, its been two years since ive touched my computer and my skills aren't that good anymore.

summary: going to the bar undercover with the man you hate the most had a twisted turn, not expecting to get shot or telling him your feelings.

warnings: cussing, bad writing, random character death, bad writing, not proof read, and this is really long for no reason..

You didn’t quite understand why you were being dragged along with this so called “mission”

It was just one bad dude who robbed a place, so why were you at a damn bar with the person you hate the most. Everyone was aware of this. You two couldn’t be in the same room together without an argument that almost leads to a fight. So why are you here?

So sitting on the bar stool with a glass of water in your hand, a skirt you were wearing too short and a top that left the mind to wonder. What made the whole situation worse was that your worst enemy was sitting next to you, the wolverine aka Logan Howlett.

You knew he was enjoying this by the way he was ordering shot by shot, it was disgustingly attractive the way the man could pour down the hardest liquor down his throat. Rolling your eyes, you focus back on the bartender, watching him make drinks and showing off to the drunken girlfriends or wives. Obviously ignoring the wicked glares he received from their partners sitting next to them.

“Hey, bartender.” you hear Logan call out. “I need something a little harder than this.”

“Nothing for the beautiful lady sitting next to you?” the man behind the counter smirks as he poured a drink for another customer. Totally ignoring Logan's request.

A soft polite smile sits on your face while trying to stuff down the unpleasant feeling you got from the bartender. “Only if it's on the house.”

“For you?” he smiles, “you can have whatever you like.”

Your eyes crinkle from disgust but to the bartender it was from joy. “Oh, you know how to touch a woman's heart.”

You hear Logan scoff while feeling his dark eyes on you. It’s been 10 minutes since you two have been here and you're already getting underneath his skin.

“Something wrong Logan?” you call him out, turning to face him instead of the creep you call bartender.

Logan rolls his eyes as he tosses his head back and downs his shot. “Show a little boob and wear a tiny skirt, and you get anything you want.” 

“Yeah, I would say you should try it. But you don’t have much to show..”

“Is that how you got here, getting passed around the team?”

 “Yup,” you say with a sarcastic smile on your face while pretending to count to the number 8 on your fingers. “Just gotta get into your pants and then I get my reward.”

Logan looks at you with a face of disgust not sure if you were messing with him or not. “Excuse me?”

Just as soon as you open your mouth to make a smartass comment. A sudden yell echoes across the room then the sound of wood breaking. Both you and Logan twist around to see the scene. There you see the “bad guy” you guys were supposed to be after. He had just brutally smashed someone's head into the table, successfully breaking the table in half.

“That a murder.” the words fall from your lips when you see the broken piece of the table

through the poor soul's head.

“Shut the fuck up you fucking clown. That's our guy.” Logan responded in a whisper. But when he didn't hear a snotty response he twisted his head to look at you, only to find your seat empty. Instead he saw you walking towards the scene, causing a deep growl to fall from his lips. Finding himself to chase after you.

Typically, you would leave this stuff for logan. But the guy was instantly on the run. And you didn’t really have a choice but to chase after him. “Hey excuse me!” You yell at the bad guy, instantly frowning as you see the blood cover his hands and shirt.”where do you think you're going, dude? Breaking that table and killing that poor guy? What an asshole!”

The bad guy looked at you, his brows furrowing. His body filled with rage. Who do you think he is and calling him “dude”. If you were here to stop him, then so be it. But you were just a girl, and women are weak. You were easy to dispose of. “Listen lil’ lady. I'll give you a quick death if you leave me alone.”

“I don’t think so, I need you to come with me anyways.”

The man sighs as he hears the words fall from your lips, “How annoying.” he thought.

“Hey, don’t you fucking run off on me like that.” You hear Logan say as he walks up next to you. Making you roll your eyes and turn your head to face him. 

It was so quick to happen you couldn’t even process it, the only thing that processed that very moment was the ear ringing bang that echoed through the air. Then Logan shouting your name. You remember seeing him running away, his face looking angry. It felt like you were standing there for hours, like you were zoning out. Then you remembered him, the guy you were supposed to get. But as soon as you took that first step, that's when you felt it. Burning pain spreads through your body making you want to cry out. Your hand instinctively reaches out to where you feel the pain, not expecting your hand to be bloodied when you pull it back to inspect it. 

You got shot. 

Now you remember why you guys were supposed to basically kidnap this guy, he was a mutant. His abilities were dangerous. The way he fought was with guns and his bullets being made by his blood, it's how he killed people. It was poisonous.

Soft curses leave your lips as you press your hand tight against your wound, but your blood was still pooling out. You felt weak, like you could barely stand and keep your eyes open. You felt as if you were gonna drop dead at any given moment. But you had to help Logan, you two were supposed to do this together. 

The first step you took, you felt your knee give out. Sending your whole body to the ground, but the impact never came. Instead you feel a strong pair of arms lift up your weak body, your eyes see logan. But you refuse to believe it was him. He wouldn’t do this. Why was your body seeing things?

“You idiot! Why did you run off and chase after him like that? You know you don’t have any special abilities to protect you if he attacked you, so why?” He yelled, Logan was truthfully more scared and worried than angry. He was running as fast as he could to the jet to get you medical aid. But he only had so much time to spare before your body was consumed by the poison.

“What happened?” your voice was soft when you asked.

“You were shot in your chest! I can see the huge fucking hole!”

“I can feel it.” Even though you were basically dying, you couldn’t help but make a simple joke. “Y’know, even though you’re a total dick. You have good arm muscles. I like the way they can hold me so tightly. I feel like a princess.” you smile “If it takes getting shot and dying for you to

care, then maybe i should get shot more often.”

Logan frowns as he hears your comment, still rushing to get you to the jet as fast as possible. “You’re so fucking stupid, you’re not dying. If you wanted me to hold you in my arms then all you had to do was ask bub.” 

A weight of relief went off his soldiers once he saw the jet, he was right there. But when he looked at you, he saw that your hand was pressed against his chest and your eyes were on him. Barely opened. “Hey, stay with me.” he comments. “Keep your eyes open, please. We're almost there!”

Your eyes scrunch together as you see his lips move but no words come out, it didn’t help much that you were fading in and out of consciousness. Growing up, you were told not to be afraid of dying because you could die at any given time. Despite all the missions you’ve been on and how many times you were knocking on death's door. You were never afraid. But today was different, why were you so afraid? Maybe it was because you're dying pathetically, or the fact that you're in the arms of a man you’ve fallen in love with.

“I’m sorry.” you tell him, your voice soft and weak. Blood drips from your lips and down your chin. Your hand grabbing his shirt. Everything was going by so fast. In the middle of a deep silence, you look up into Logans eyes, knowing these might be your last moments together. Pain rushes through your body and words fly out of your mouth before your brain can catch up, and you’re saying what you’ve always wanted to say. “I love you.”

He freezes, shocked at your words. He looks down at you, taking in your face, and the pained look on it. You can see his brain racing like a speeding train, and his breath catches in his throat. “You’re an idiot. Why did you wait till this point?”

“I- I thought I would have more time.” was all you managed to say before shutting your eyes.

Finally, Logan runs up the rail of the jet and sets you on the cot. Watching the aids surround you, immediately taking quick action. With the flight there and taking you into emergency surgery. They finally came up to Logan, who fell asleep in the infirmary's waiting room. Telling him that you were okay and would make a good recovery.

Without wasting a single second, Logan rushed to your room. His heart dropped once he saw your frail, weak body. Connecting to different types of wires and IVs. He felt terrible, guilt consumed his body as thoughts raked his mind, he could've prevented all of this, all of your pain. Only if he was faster.

Logan found himself staring at your body, wanting to reach out and take your hand. He pulled up the chair by your bed and sat down, his eyes switching from your resting body to the monitor. Finally mustering the courage to take hold of your hand. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t quick enough, I should’ve been the one. But I was so fucking slow, in my own god damn bloody mind.And  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I love you back, I was just so scared. Scared that if I told you, I would never get to tell you so again. I was so fucking selfish. But holy shit, I'm so in love with you. It hurts so much. But I'll make sure to tell you every single chance I get. I love you.”

“You better get started.” you say with a smile on your face. 

Logan looks at you in a state of shock, not expecting you to be awake. Without holding back, he basically launches himself onto you. Wrapping his arms around your weak figure, wanting to hold you tight but being so gentle with you. “You’re okay” he breathes out of relief, “You’re an idiot, but you’re okay.”

“I love you too by the way.” The smile on your face was wide, you were in so much pain. But you were so happy. Never in your life did you think you would be here, but here you are. In the arms of the man you’ve pretended to hate for so long.

“Oh shut your pretty little mouth.” Was all he said before pressing his soft warm lips against yours. 

If someone had asked you what it was like getting shot, you would probably tell them it hurt really fucking bad and wouldn’t recommend it. But if they asked you on a personal level. You would tell them that you would do it again if it meant that you got to see Logan care for you. But it still hurt like a fucking bitch.

[thebearer]

fall into me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: part 2 of follow me. your date with carmen.

contains: fluff. anxious carmen. mentions of mikey. but all fluff :)

Carmen was sure he was going to be sick. A new kind of sickness, where his stomach felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth and ass at the same time. He changed his outfit six times, slacks and a tie felt too formal. Jeans felt out of the question, and while the very cool guy on TikTok swore that slacks and t-shirts were in this season… Carmen couldn’t bring himself to wear it. 

So he wore his slacks, good shoes he still had from pretentious meetings in the restaurant, and his good button down, a steely type blue- the saleswoman told him it really complimented his eyes, then wrote her number on his receipt. Of course, Carmen didn’t call it. He’d never allow himself the simple pleasures like that. 

Carmen smoked the whole way to the restaurant, a bottle of cologne in his pocket, which he doused himself in on the corner, popping a mint. He saw you standing there, awkwardly on your phone by the light pole, head ducked to your screen in your black, silk, cowl neck dress. Carmen could feel his heart jump at the sight of you, cursing while he started to jog in the still new shoes. 

“Hey, shit, sorry.” Carmen apologized, his chest tightening and burning as he slowed in front of you. “I-I couldn’t find my phone.” Definitely not because I tried on a million different outfits and had a panic attack.

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t text me back. Thought you ghosted me at your own restaurant.” You quipped, his heart plummeting, face falling with it. You grinned, shoving your phone in your tiny purse. “‘M fucking with you, Carm. I just got here.” 

“Oh,” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, good. That-That’s good. Do you want to go in?” 

“Sure.” You giggled. “After you, Chef.” 

“C’mon.” Carmen laughed lightly, shaking his head, hoping it would hide his burning cheeks. You were ahead of him, reaching for the door, his heart skipping when he saw it. “I got it!” 

You drew your hand back, looking at him carefully. The blush in his cheeks spread down to his neck. “I-I got it, let me get it.” Carmen nodded, pulling the handle. You glided past him, his hand ghosting on the small of your back, leaving you shuddering under his touch. It was casual, you doubted he even knew he did it, just a slight usher while he followed you in. 

“It’s so different being here at night.” You whispered to him, your arm brushing his while you walked to the hostess station. 

Carmen nodded. “I know, it’s, uh, it’s nice to see it like this, ya know?” He muttered. “See it from a customer’s perspective.” 

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” You asked, your head tilting to the side softly. “Why we’re kinda doing this?” 

Carmen’s heart fell, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He could feel his own mind racing. Of course, you didn’t think this was a date. Why would you ever want to be on a date with him?

“I mean, yeah, sorta. Here f’you too. To thank you for everything.” Carmen nodded, eyes cutting to yours. Fuck, he knew he needed to look at you, he wanted to look at you, but it was so fuckin’ hard. When you looked so pretty, so effortlessly calm and cool. It made him fluster. 

“C’mon, Carm. You hired me, paid me. And you guys have been so nice. Most places are… horrible. Act like I’m bothering them when they hired me. You’ve got a good place, great staff. I’m glad you wanted me to be a part of it for a while.” You smiled, stepping up to the hostess station.

Carmen could feel his heart squeeze, an uncomfortably tight realization that this would be the last time he saw you. He’d been running numbers all night, seeing where he could take cuts so he could keep you, but even then, you’d be gone for at least another two months since you already took another job. By then, whatever you had here, would be gone. 

“Ah, there you are, the VIP customers for the night.” Richie schmoozed, sliding behind the hostess stand. 

You grinned, Carmen’s eyes downcast making Richie’s jaw tick. “How are you two this evening?”

“Great.” You beamed. “Excited to try this place. I’ve never been here before. Heard it’s the best in Chicago.” You nudged Carmen playfully with your hip, grinning at him. 

He gave you a tight lipped smile, hands by his side, trying to nonchalantly wipe his hands on his slacks. Richie smiled at you, glaring lightly at Carmen. “Well, you heard right, sweetheart. We want your night to be extra special, so we have this booth back here just for the two of you.” 

“Hey, Syd,” Tina muttered, looking up from her plating to see your head pass with Carmen’s curly locks. “They’re here.” 

“Shit, are they?” Sydney turned, looking through the window. “God, Carmen looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

“Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?” Sugar huffed, her hands on her hips. 

Richie caught Sugar’s eye through the window, a flickering glance that told her exactly what she needed to know. “So, I will have the focaccia out for the two of you shortly. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” 

“‘M good.” Carmen muttered, taking the leather bound menu into his hands, knee bouncing under the table. 

You looked a little uncomfortable, eyes cutting to Carmen’s before a moment of hesitation flashed over your face. “Uh, I’ll take a glass of whatever you think would pair best with the meal?” 

“Perfect. I’ll have that out.” Richie smiled, hoping his silent screams at Carmen would be enough for him to catch on. Fak passed, slipping a piece of paper in Richie’s hand. Richie stepped away, reading Sugar’s scribbled writing: “GET CARMEN BACK HERE NOW!!!!” 

“Excuse me, folks,” Richie greeted apologetically, though the two of you weren’t talking. “Carmen, I hate to do this, but I need you just for a second, ok?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth without so much as looking at you. Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’ll just be a second. That focaccia and riesling are on the way.” Richie grinned at you, stepping beside Carmen. 

“What’s goin’ on? Did we run out of-” 

“-No, you fuckin’ moron.” Richie huffed, letting the door slam shut. “The fuck is your problem, huh? You’re not even- hey, send that to six with the Cakebread white, ok?- You’re not even looking at her, c’mon, Cousin.” 

Carmen blushed, running a hand through his hair. “What? I-I’m talkin’ to her-” 

“-No, you’re not.” Sugar snapped, rounding the corner. “You look like an ass, Carmy. You’re on a date with her and-” 

“-It’s not a date.” Carmen shook his head, brushing it off. 

Sugar blinked. “You’re on a date with her,” She repeated, her tone firmer- a mom tone she’d adapted since working here that would help with the baby. “And you’re acting like a total-total…” Sugar waved her hands, stuttering over the word. 

“Jagoff.” Neil added, passing through the kitchen for a moment before going out the doors. 

“Thank you! Yes! A total jagoff.” Sugar glared at Carmen. 

“I-I don’t even think she thinks it’s a date-” 

The kitchen erupted in groans, shouting at him irritatedly. “Look at how she’s dressed. If she thought this was a free meal ticket, she wouldn’t wear that. That is a date night dress.” 

“That’s true.” Sydney added. 

Carmen couldn’t help the way his heart flipped with excitement, looking out the window at you, sitting at the table, nursing your wine slowly- alone. 

“Cousin, c’mere,” Richie motioned him, leading him towards the office. “Look, I get you got this whole ‘I deserve nothing good’ doom and gloom attitude, but that right there. That’s good.” Richie jabbed his finger towards the door. “I see you, ok? You guys got that cute little texting thing goin’ on, alright?” 

Carmen stilled. He felt like a teenager again, being teased and tormented by Mikey and Richie about a crush he had. How the fuck did he know about your texting? “Look, if you let her go tonight without even trying, you’re gonna regret it. You only got one chance, cousin, do not miss your chance to blow.” Richie said seriously. 

“Don’t fuckin’ quote Eminem to me right now-” 

“-Alright, alright, but seriously?” Richie nodded into the office, the tiny frame that held Mikey’s note ‘Let it rip!’. Carmen felt his stomach turn, guilt trilling in it. He knew Richie was right and that fact alone made him queasy. “Listen to Mikey, alright? You can have good shit in your life.” 

Carmen looked at the photo, taking a grounding breath, Mikey’s voice ringing loud in his ears. “Let it rip.” Carmen muttered, pushing past the double doors back to you. 

“Oh, no way!” You laughed. “You don’t have TikTok?” 

“No, no. Don’t have time for it.” Carmen shrugged, sipping his water. 

“Then how do you watch our videos?” You asked, brow raising in question. 

“I click the link you send me and it opens up just on my Google or whatever.” Carmen grinned, shrugging lightly, popping another truffle fry in his mouth. He’d nearly fallen over when you asked for ranch, teasing you lightly. You’d only shrugged, sticking one in your mouth, declaring it would taste better with ranch. You were kidding, of course, it was perfect. 

“Wow.” You smirked, finger tracing around the rim. “You’re missing out. It’s addictive.” 

“Yeah? It’s weird too.” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“Says you! You’re Mr. TikTok Famous and you don’t even know it.” You pushed his arm lightly, trying not to gawk at how firm his biceps were. Sure, you’d definitely seen them while he was working, but… they felt better than they looked. “Should see how you’ve got everyone in a tizzy. Chopping onions and marinating wagyu.” 

Carmen laughed, cheeks reddening at the compliment. “Yeah, those comments were…shocking.” 

“You think?” You cocked your head to the side. “I thought they were pretty normal.” 

“Half of them were asking me to violently punch them.” Carmen laughed, eyes widening at you. 

“Well, can you blame them?” You grinned, leaning in closer. “You got nice hands. Of course, they’re going feral. I knew what I was doing with that shot. Giving the people what they want.” 

Carmen blushed furiously, hoping you couldn’t see under the low light of the restaurant. “Nah, c’mon.” He looked down at his fingers, etched with tattoos. 

“You c’mon.” You grinned, reaching out a little daringly to trace a finger over his veins. You’d blame the wine for your boldness, but Carmen shivered under your touch. “You’ve got hot hands. No wonder they all go so crazy. You’re a pretty chef with good hands.” 

Carmen knew you had to see his blush now, sure his body temperature went up ten degrees, heart beating so bad in his chest he was sure he wasn’t going to make it another course. “Uh,” Carmen laughed, running his free hand over his mouth, hoping to hide some of his grin. He didn’t dare move his hand from his. “Well, thanks, I guess. I, um, I wanna say I think the same.” 

You lifted a brow, biting back a laugh when he stuttered, his eyes widening. Your giggles were infectious to him, a stream of his own nervous laugh spilling out of his throat. “No, I-I meant- fuck, I meant… I, uh, I think you’re pretty.” 

There was a pause, your own teeth pulling in your lip, grinning shyly at him. “Really?” You asked. You felt like you were in junior high again, finding out the boy on the JV team like liked you. It was giddy, the feeling in your chest. Warm, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Beautiful, really.” 

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, hoping to hide your smile behind your own glass of wine. Fak came by, dropping your next course off, a temporary relief for the moment, letting the two of you get yourselves together. 

“You think he’ll do it?” Sugar asked, pretending to roll silverware while Richie handed them to her. A meaningless job that just so happened to be by the window, so they could see the two of you. 

“I dunno. Could go either way.” Richie sucked in a breath. “He seems to be close, ya know? Think he has it in him to do it, just… fuck, I hope he does.” 

“Me too.” Sugar sighed. “Can you hear what they’re saying? It looks… nice? So that’s gotta be good, right?” 

“Yeah, hopefully…” Richie hummed, squinting to try and make out the words you were whispering to each other. The two of you were pressed together, migrated together as the meal went on until you were huddled, like it was the two of you. 

“I really don’t want you to leave.” Carmen admitted, body pressed to yours, hand in yours in the dim light of the booth. Everyone had left, all the patrons shuffled out and escorted to their cars. Some of the kitchen staff went home, but some stayed, pretending to be extra tedious with their cleanup so they could see the two of you. 

“I know. I’m having such a good time with you.” You agreed, tilting your chin up to look at him, lashes batting, eyes a little glossy from the wine. 

“No- I mean, yeah I-I’m having a good time with you, too. But I meant… leave forever.” Carmen admitted, the lump in his throat growing more and more with each word. “I really liked having you here.” 

“I liked being here.” You hummed, tongue running over your bottom lip lightly. “It was a lot of fun. I liked spending time with you.” 

“Yeah? I liked spending time with you too. A lot.” Carmen admitted. “And I… I want to keep spending time with you?” It came out more as a question, all hopeful eyes and a rounded gaze. “If-If you want to-” 

“-Yeah.” You grinned. “I wanna keep spending time with you. I like being with you, Carmen.” 

“Yeah? Really?” Camren was half convinced he was hallucinating. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “If you wanna spend some more time with me too. I’d like to get to know you more, and not to just write a staff spotlight on.” You giggled, his lips curling at the sound. “To, like, really get to know you.” 

“I would… yeah, I’d like that. Like to get to know you too.” Carmen nodded. 

There was a pause, the tension between the two of you was thick. Your eyes darted from his lips back to his eyes, already leaning closer. Carmen could feel his stomach lurch with nerves, Mikey’s voice ringing over and over and over. 

Let it fuckin’ rip, Carmen thought before he moved in, lips on yours. His hands were clammy cradling your jaw but you didn’t seem to mind, your own arms snaking their way around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. 

“Holy shit!” Richie gasped, dropping the fork. “Look! Fuckin’ look!” 

The staff clambered around to huddle by the window, watching the two of you kiss, pulling apart with small smiles, before going back in. Carmen’s hands sliding down your back, your arms, your waist- fuck, he just loved feeling you like this, and he hadn’t even felt all of you. Yet. 

“He fuckin’ did it.” Richie grinned, awing at Carmen. “Hey, Sug, might be a bad time, but I believe I’m owed fifty dollars.” 

You pulled apart, grinning at Carmen, still huddled close together, his hands rubbing the silk fabric of your dress, your sliding through the curls on the nape of his neck. Your mind was dizzy, the rush of adrenaline, emotion, and buzzing from the wine. 

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow?” Carmen asked. 

“Nothing.” You hummed. “Why? You’ve got something in mind?” 

“Not-Not right now, actually.” Carmen admitted with a small laugh. “But I’d love to do something with you.” 

“Me too.” You smiled. 

Carmen looked around, catching his staff standing in the window, rolling his eyes when they darted after he caught them, scampering in different directions. “Um, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Carmen looked at you, fingers drumming on his thigh- that was still touching yours. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at your phone. “I guess I should go, and I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth then offering his hand to help you. “Did you walk here?” 

“No, I took the L.” You walked towards the door beside him. It was quiet, the soft hum from the kitchen, the muffled clatters of pots and pans being put away. 

“Me too. I’ll ride back with you?” Carmen offered. 

“I thought you lived like three blocks away?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side. “And I’m in the opposite direction.” 

“Yeah, I-I do.” Carmen nodded. “I just… You shouldn’t ride alone at night, ya know? Shit could happen and… I don’t want it to. To happen to you.” 

You could feel the heat flushing through your cheeks, through your chest. You laughed lightly. “Is this your way of trying to come home with me?” You lifted a brow playfully. 

“No! No.” Carmen shook his head, flustered, which made you laugh harder. 

“I’m kidding, Carm.” You giggle, reassuring him. “But… if you wanted to come stay the night. Since it’s late… and you’re insisting on coming with me on the L.” 

“I don’t wanna make-make it weird, or come off like that. I-I really am… I like you.” Carmen stuttered. Fuck, there was nothing more tempting than that invite, but Carmen didn’t want to fuck this up. He really didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“I mean, stay over so we can talk more.” You gave him a pointed look. “We were having a good conversation. Weren’t we?” 

“Yeah, no, yeah. Yeah, we were.” Carmen stuttered, hand on the door, twisting the lock though his eyes never left yours. 

“So… You want to come over then? Finish telling me about Copenhagen? Please?” And how could Carmen say no, his head spinning with excitement when he walked out behind you, letting the door fall shut, your arm looping around his while you walked towards the L. 

Richie ran to the front, pushing the door open with Sugar and Tina, watching the two of you walk towards the station. “Good job, Cousin.” Richie muttered. 

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[another-lost-mc]

Imagine Vampire!Barbatos tho....

Who else would be his perfect doll master but you? He will cook for you, brush and stylish your lovely hair, dress you up. Treat you like a princess 80% of the time, the other 20% he's feeding from you and letting his dark side take over.

Vampire!BARBATOS x gn!Reader, 1.2k words, nsfw.

Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names, spicy towards the end—it's not really dubcon but it might come off that way.

more from the vampire!au

You feel his eyes on you as soon as you step into the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle. These fancy events always make you feel nervous and out of place. You usually spend the night together before these events so he can help you prepare, but last night you stayed at the House of Lamentation instead as his duties to Diavolo kept him busy.

His bedroom (and yours) are filled with the exquisite clothing he’s bought you, and he sent you instructions earlier with which clothing he wanted you to wear for him tonight. You bathed with the products he gave you too—he claims that the custom recipe he has made for you enhances your natural scent.

(He enjoys bathing you personally so he can massage you with his firm hands while he teases you with gentle touches, a playful reminder of how he'll reward you later if you behave.)

Every accessory you own—the collection of chokers, necklaces, bracelets, and chains he's bought for you—are made with the finest metals and jewels. Your outfits usually compliment your complexion and your eyes; your accessories are a reflection of him instead. The choker around your neck tonight is black and silver and adorned with tiny gemstones the same colour as the tips of his hair.

As you walk around the perimeter of the ballroom, you feel his warm, affectionate gaze linger on you from wherever he's hiding just out of sight. He weaves through the crowd seamlessly at these events, as the demon prince's silent shadow should, but you’ve yet to catch a glimpse of him.

One of the brothers tugs on your wrist and leads you towards the center of the room. Diavolo approaches you suddenly, and Barbatos follows silently behind him.

“You look radiant this evening,” Diavolo says, his voice laced with fondness for you. He respects his friend and your relationship and doesn’t dare touch you. “Don't you agree, Barbatos?”

You’re not sure anyone else notices the flicker of annoyance that hardens your lover’s expression before it's gone. Even you're not sure if you truly saw it when he nods and smiles at you.

“Quite lovely indeed,” he murmurs, but something about his sickeningly sweet tone sets you on edge. The tingling sensation of being watched follows you as you're dragged by your friends onto the dancefloor.

It's barely twenty minutes later that you finally break away from the party and mingle on the outskirts of the room with a cool drink in your hand. There's a sudden feeling of another body radiating heat against your back, and gloved fingers reach around you and gently pull your drink away. He sets it on a table nearby and touches your waist.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I have a small task to complete and would like the privilege of your company.” He’s always so formal to keep up appearances, but you suspect there’s some hidden meaning in his words you haven’t deciphered yet.

(There always is).

He offers you his arm and you leave the party together. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he leads you away from the ballroom, but despite his odd demeanor you're still grateful to spend time alone with him.

The rest of the castle is empty except for the servants carrying out various chores. When you arrive at the kitchen doors, he gestures for you to enter first. There’s a flurry of activity inside as the Little Ds pick up their trays of Demonus and make a quick escape through the servant’s entrance on the opposite side of the room.

You smile and wave at them as they leave, but the door shuts behind you and the lock clicking into place makes you freeze.

“You look exceptional this evening,” Barbatos breathes next to your ear. His gloved fingers caress your cheek and slowly run up and down the curve of your neck. “It's enough to drive me mad,” he confesses, lips brushing your skin just above the choker. He unfastens the clasp and slides the delicate item into his pocket for later.

He kisses the lingering puncture marks he made two nights ago—the skin is bruised and the puncture wounds are still not fully healed. He prefers that you don't use magic or potions to speed up the healing process, so you don't.

(He'd never deny you if you were in true pain or discomfort, but he would prefer to care for you himself than ask you to drink whatever flimsy potion one of your friends might try to feed you.)

“I get the sense that something’s bothering you,” you admit quietly, and he hums. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask nervously, but when you try to look at him, he holds your chin to keep you still.

"A simple problem requires a simple solution," he mutters to himself. "All I could smell was them on you,” he clarifies for your benefit, and it’s the only warning you have before you’re pushed forward against one of the stainless steel counters. Deft fingers tug at your waist and unbutton the burdensome clothing that gets in his way of touching you. You gasp when cool air hits your bare skin.

No matter what bath products he buys you, it’s not enough to completely wash away the scent of the others you live with. The clothes that hang in your closet don’t smell like him, not like the ones in his castle bedroom do.

The possessive beast inside him seethes with rage others that see you and crave you like he does might think you’re not claimed. You taunted the beast inside him when you walked into that ballroom smelling like so many others but not him.

Even if you weren't wearing the choker around your neck, those healing bites alone aren’t enough to deter those that might try to take you for themselves. You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows that—including you.

“What—what about the party?” you whimpered, overwhelmed by his body smothering yours and the pleasure of his hand exploring between your legs.

He's barely started and you can already smell the musky scent from between your thighs. The evidence he'll leave inside you when he's finished will drip down your legs and paint your skin; you have no doubt the stains will soak through the thin fabric of your pants for the others to see.

His fangs tease the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering higher than his other marks, too high for your choker to hide from view. Slick fingers tease at your entrance and you gasp as one slips inside.

“Everyone will know—“ you stammer, one final plea to remind him that perhaps this isn't a good idea, but his quiet, condescending chuckle interrupts you.

“Precisely, my dear,” he purrs, biting into your neck and groaning as the first pulse of blood coats his tongue. A hand encased in soft leather covers your mouth and muffles your cry as he buries himself inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

Obey Me! Masterlist

[hyun-xxe]

You're Mine, Silly! (PART 2)

summary: He was once your Bias of your favorite Kpop group, BTS. However, seeing his true colors made you rethink everything you ever thought of him. Who truly is Jungkook?

Warnings: non-con touching, non-con kissing, kidnapping, drugging, forceful grabbing, non-con sex, smut

Part 2!

*sorry for any spelling errors!*

Yandere!Jeong Jungook x F!reader

You didn't want to meet up with Jungkook, it was the last thing on your plate. However, you knew the power he held and how he could make your life a living hell.

After receiving his text about where to meet him, you texted your boyfriend everything that happened to update him about the situation.

Your heart broke seeing his messages and how sad he was, Elijah didn't deserve this and neither did you.

Jungkook: make sure to dress nicely, ok? i want to see my love looking her best!

You sighed as you slipped on your pink floral dress, the cotton material hugging your chest and body nicely. Not only that, you also made sure to place your phone on voice message so you could use anything against him if the worst happens.

After seeing you were ready, you drove over to the newly opened cafe that everyone was currently obsessed with. It scared you knowing that the place was most likely going to be packed with customers and some might be fans of the group.

You texted Jungkook, letting him know you were there. When he told you he was inside, you grabbed your purse and walked through the doors only to be shocked at the scene.

He wasn't wearing any disguise or hat like he promised, he was just out in the open, smiling at fans and even signing one paper from a fan. It made you freeze in your step. He set this all up and there is nothing you could do about this.

His eyes met your figure and he stood up, pushing some of of the people out of the way. Once he met you, he gave you a kiss on your cheek before directing you to sit down in his booth.

All the fans around him smiled and giggled, ogling about how cute you two were. A big part of you wanted to scream that he was a crazy man and that you two weren't even dating, but you knew you would be the one looking crazy.

"How are you my love?" he asks, giving you a big smile.

If none of this were to happen, you would've fallen for that smile and gushed about how innocent he is.

"I-I'm doing good. I thought this was going to be a private dinner?" you whispered, looking around and making sure no one was listening. Luckily his bodyguards were sitting in the booth behind you guys so you had freewill to talk a little louder.

"Oh, I don't recall saying it was going to be private darling. What made you think that?" he chuckled, picking up his menu, "What do you want?"

Was this man serious? You thought to yourself. It pissed you off how condescending he was being and made you feel stupid.

"Jungkook, you know why I am here in the first place. Besides, you promised you would wear a disguise!" you hissed, giving him a glare.

He gives you a sad look and sighs loudly, loud enough for some nearby to hear. "I-I'm sorry Y/N! I didn't mean to surprise you like this! I just wanted the be-best for my love!" he looked down at his hands, playing with them.

You saw the others give him a look of sympathy all while giving you a tiny dirty look. He was playing his cards.

"No, don't say that honey," you grabbed his hand softly, making you cringe inside, "I just had a tired day at the office and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Jungkook gives you a smirk, earning his respect just a little for also playing this game. But he knew he could do better.

Taking his hand out of yours, he placed both on each side of your face and pulled you in, giving you a almost sweet kiss, but you knew that this kiss also had a warning to it.

After he released you, he held your hand again, preventing you from wiping it off in a subtle way.

"Are we going to talk about this whole thing?" You ask, glaring at him, "I want to go back to how things were."

He pretends to ignore you as he picks up his menu with his free hand, scanning through the options, "They have a blueberry muffin, you want to try that?" he asks.

You grit your teeth at his reaction, "Jungkook, I'm talking to you. You had the fucking audacity to kiss me without my permission and now you're ignoring me."

"What is there to talk about?" he questions, "We are on a date, lets just enjoy it."

He was getting crazier and crazier each time he opened his mouth. This man truly believed that based off your five minute convseration with him that night, that both of you were together and happy.

"This is NOT a date! This is to put those rumors aside and get back to my life with my loving boyfriend. Now, if you have nothing to say, I am going to leave."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "You really think I'll let you go this easy?" he lowers his head a bit, "You're fucking stupid if you think you can just walk out of here. Did you forget the power I have? Do you really want to test it?"

The threat sounded fake and real at the same time. You didn't know if he was truly insane enough to pull a stunt like that, but knowing him and how hes acting, you knew better than to test his patience.

"Why me, of all people? Isn't there much better girls out there?"

He gives you a soft look and you could've sworn you saw the normal side of him.

"There is just something about you that caught my attention. I just couldn't stop thinking about you and knew I ahd to make you mine," he leans in closer to you, "This hold you have on me is making me crazy. If i could, right now I would bend you down and fuck you right here, showing everyone you're mine."

Your eyes widened and your face became hot. Did he seriously just say that?

"Oh, that idea made you blush huh." he smirks.

You shake your head, "No, it didn't! Jungkook, I have a boyfriend. Just because you found me attractive and fell for me, doesn't give you the right to pull this shit."

Your response made him go quiet for a minute as he seemed to be in deep thought. Did it really work? could that wake him up?

He stood up and held out his hand to you, "Come on love, lets get out of here."

You were so confused by his actions and looked around to see everyone looking with their phones out.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, not taking his hand yet.

He smiled and grabbed your hand by force, "I wanna show you something!" he hoist you up from your seat and leads you outside to a black van where the windows were shut closed with curtains.

"W-wait!" you say, trying your best to pull back, "I have my own car, I'll meet you there, I promise!"

Jungkook shakes his head, "No, there is no need. Give your keys to my guys and they'll take it for you."

You looked at him as if he was crazy, which he was, "No, are you kidding me? Thats my car!"

He steps close to you and whispers in your ear, "Do you really want to act like a brat with others looking right now?"

Knowing he was right that others were watching and recording, you gave your keys to his guys and got inside the van with him.

As you entered, you looked aorund and noticed the black interior. The curtains were enclosing the back to the front and it made you scared about the ideas this crazy man had in mind.

"Where are we going?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

"You'll see." he says and starts the car, driving to god knows where.

It took about 15 minutes to make it to the destination and as you looked out, your heart dropped. It wasa secluded area where the trees were tall enough to block out the sun that was out. It was obvious you were in the woods but you couldn't tell how deep since this entire way you were just lost in thought on how to escape.

"Uhm, what are we doing here?" you asked, giving him a nervous smile.

He turns to you and unbuckles your seat belt, "Come on, lets go back there."

You turn to open the door and run out, but he locked it just in time.

"do you think I'm that stupid without taking into account that you could easily escape?" he laughs, "How cute."

"W-what if you try and kill me?! I don't want to be near you!" you screamed, banging on the window, hoping there was someone outside that could hear you.

"Y/N, I would never hurt you like that, I love you too much to even think of that. come on, lets just go back there."

As you two finally make it to the back, you tried your best to pull on the handles of the doors, hoping it would open. You don't know what plans he has, but you sure as hell weren't going to stay and find out.

"If you fucking touch me, I'll do everything I can to scratch and bite." you warned him, pointing your finger at him.

He just smiled and moved closer to you, "You threatening me turns me on just a bit." his voices darkens. "Please, continue your threat."

You found him sick and scooted farther away, but as your back hit the door you knew there wasn't enough space between you.

"Please, Jungkook, lets not do this. Just let me go, I promise I won't tell anyone about this."

He stares deep into your eyes and smiles, "Are you kidding me? I will never let you go, you're the best thing that has happened to me." He reaches his thumb out and brushes against your lips, playing with them.

You pulled your head back, pushing his thumb away. "Don't you touch me! Don't think I won't hurt you!"

Jungkook takes a step back, "fine, whatever you say princess. I won't touch you."

You thought of plans to escape and were to lost in thought that you didn't notice how hot it became. The windows felt cool and so did the seat, so why did you feel like you were burning up.

fanning yourself and looking around, you tried getting cool air to hit you, but even if it did, the feeling would go away after a second. "Why is it so hot in here?" you asked, looking at Jungkook who seems to be perfectly fine.

"What are you talking about?"

You ignored him and tried sitting up, flipping your dress up to fan your stomach and legs. When your hand accidentally brushed your breast, you flinched back. It felt so sensitive.

Suddenly, your core felt wet and when you sat up more, the friction of it hitting the seat made you bite back a moan. It felt so good, and yet so sensitive.

You needed to feel it more, so you did it again and this time, a string of moans left you.

Jungkook looked over your way with his eyebrows raised, "Is everything good there?" he asked, smirking at the scene.

Trying your best to act normal, you nodded your head. Every place of you ached and you needed to be touched. "What is happening to me? Why am I acting like this?" you bite out, squeezing your eyes shut.

He moved closer to you, his had gracing over your breast, drawing out more moans from you.

It felt amazing.

"Did that feel good?" he questions in a lower voice.

You nodded your head, still refusing to open your eyes.

"Want me to do it again?"

you shake your head, remembering Elijah and how devestated he would be if he found out about this. He was already hurt by everything, why would u hurt him again?

"G-get away from me, now!" you yell, looking the other way.

Jungkook chuckles and moves closer, his body trapping you. His lips ghost your neck as he licked up to your chin. You tasted amazing. "We both know you need this, why fight it?"

his had went to your boob as he played with it all while sucking on your neck and chin. Everything felt amazing and you couldn't find it in you to tell him to stop.

A moan left you as he turned your body to him.

He kissed up to your mouth and looked deep into your eyes, "You want this, right?"

You shook your head, "E-Elija- nngh!" he kissed you with passion, cutting off your sentence.

His hands started to roam dangerously low to your area and it felt too good to stop him. You didn't want it, you wanted to fight him off, but you couldn't.

Jungkook's fingers touched your clit and started to rub circles, feeling the wetness through your panties.

"You say no but your body says differently."

He stops kissing you and lowers his head to your core, removing your panties down to your ankle and staring at your glory.

It looked delicous and he wanted to taste every part of you.

Diving his head in, he starts to lick around, and once he heard you moan loudly from his tongue swirling your bud, he continued to do so at that pace, sometimes going faster and rough.

"P-please st- nnghh! Mhmmm~" you lewed out, heading thrown back as you felt your legs become weak from the sensation. You felt a knot in your stomach and felt yourself needing to release.

"S-so close!" you yell, moans leaving your lips.

You were so close, but he stopped. Why did he stop.

Looking down, you notice the smirk on his face. "You told me to stop, so I'll listen to your wishes." he wipes your juice off his face and was about to stand up, but you pushed him back down.

"Please, Jungkook! Please, pleasure me and take me." you plead, wanting to feel that rush again.

He smiles and raises an eyebrow, "But, who do you belong to?"

Everything about Elijah left your mind as you felt him near your core. "You, I belong to you!"

Thats all he needed to hear as he dove back in, licking and slurping up all your juices. As he was doing so, he entered two fingers into your pussy, feeling you tighten around his fingers. He needed to be inside you.

When you released all over his face, he made sure to lick it all up. It felt like heaven to him seeing your face and how good he knew you felt.

He quickly unbuckled his pants and drew out his hardened member, picking you up from the seat and onto the floor, he crawled ontop of you and gave you sweet kisses.

"I've always wanted this." he whispers before shoving his dick inside, feeling your pussy tighten around his member gave him the euphoria he never knew he needed or could experience.

He brutally kept his pace fast and strong, hearing you moan out his name and claw his back knowing it would leave marks on him and it excited him more, it would leave your marks.

As he kept slamming in you, he gave you kisses everywhere and made sure to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He loved how you reciprocated things back and soon, you came all over again.

He was so close to he held you close as he finally released inside of you, white strings coating your walls.

Jungkook laid on top of you, after that, still leaving small kisses on you. He made sure to keep his dick in you so his cum could stay there, hoping that soon maybe, he could be apart of your forever.

As things died down, everything crashed on you. The betrayal that you knew Elijah was going to feel, Jungkook taking advantage and having his way with you.

All of this made you gasp. You haven't taken your pills in months and you didn't wear protection.

Jungkook looked up and smiled, "I'm never letting you go, I love you too much."

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s not that Steve didn’t want a tattoo.

He’d wanted one for years. Just something to piss off his parents the way they pissed him off constantly.

Asking when he’d find a girlfriend (he wouldn’t, he’s gay), when he’d find a better job (he liked his job as a guidance counselor), when he’d move out of the tiny apartment he shared with that girl who couldn’t give them grandchildren (Robin gagged at the mere thought of any of that).

But Robin promised she’d go with him when he made this appointment a month ago and she’d just cancelled at the last minute. Something about a work emergency.

She didn’t have a work emergency. She worked at a Starbucks.

He knew what she was doing. It’s what she always did.

“I just wanna get you out of your shell! People should see the Steve that I see!”

Robin did get a different version of Steve, one that didn’t feel like he had to hide his surprisingly bubbly personality. His students got a calm, kind counselor. But everyone else?

They’d be lucky to get a smile during a conversation.

He wasn’t, like, an asshole.

He just had asshole tendencies.

Robin called him her Oscar The Grouch.

He allowed it because deep down, he knew it was true.

And now he was even MORE grumpy because he had to get this tattoo alone. In a place he’d almost certainly be the outcast in his glasses and business casual attire. With people judging him for not already having tattoos and piercings at the age of 27.

Robin owed him.

When he walked into the shop, he was surprised to hear classic rock instead of heavy metal. The front counter was covered in pictures of bands Steve didn’t know, tattoos he would never get, and signs that had enough vulgar words to fill up the swear jar he kept in the apartment for shits and giggles.

Nervous was an understatement.

A head popped around the corner, bright smile lighting up the face of a man who looked like he belonged here.

“Be right there!”

Steve didn’t bother to say anything because as soon as he started to respond, the head was gone.

He frowned, but figured the guy might be with another client and he was pretty sure they had rules about touching things with their gloves on. At least, he hoped they did.

He stared down at the picture on his phone.

It was small, simple. Something he wouldn’t even have to cover up at work.

One of his students drew it for him last year when he’d missed some work because of the flu. He’d only missed two days, but because he so rarely missed, his regulars were pretty worried about him.

His regulars being three students who sat with him during their lunch period to avoid bullies.

It was a sun, with beautiful yellows and oranges combining into a near perfect circle, small lines randomly jutting out and fading into nothing.

It was beautiful art.

And he was getting it permanently etched onto his body.

He loved his students, what could he say?

The head popped back around the corner, interrupting his thoughts again.

“Sorry for the wait. I had a customer on the phone. How can I help ya?”

“Steve Harrington. Here for a 6:00 appointment?”

The guy beamed at him, nodding along.

“Perfect! You said you already knew what you wanted?”

Steve held up his phone to show this still nameless guy the picture.

“You want the colors like that?”

“If you can.”

“If I can, he says! Of course I can! This is really nice. Did you make this?”

Steve snorted, but he wasn’t that amused. This guy was like a ball of energy and Steve was already exhausted.

“No. One of my students did.”

“Oh, are you a teacher?”

“Guidance counselor.”

“That’s cool! So you, like, make sure the youths of today are on the right path? Keep them interested in the right things?”

Steve blinked at this man.

“I guess, yeah. So can we uh, get started…”

“Oh shit! I always forget to introduce myself to the newbies. Eddie.” He held out his hand towards Steve to shake. Steve stared down at it for a moment, knowing his face was doing that judgy thing Robin always warned him about, but not being able to stop it. “Not a handshake guy?”

Steve cleared his throat, finally reaching his hand up to shake Eddie’s.

The rings on Eddie’s fingers were cold against his own, his grip was strong but not the type of string that made Steve uncomfortable.

Eddie was smiling at him. He never stopped smiling, this guy.

It was kind of…cute. Steve would never admit it to anyone, but the way Eddie just seemed genuinely happy was really doing it for him.

That was annoying.

When he finally remember to let go, Eddie was already turning around to grab a piece of paper from the shelf behind him.

“I’m just gonna have you send that to this email,” he pointed to the contact info on the piece of paper he’d grabbed. “And I’ll get it printed on transfer paper so we can get started.”

Steve nodded and sent the picture as requested.

He ignored the shaking of his hands. It wasn’t a big deal. It’s just a tattoo. Most adults have them. Robin had four. Eddie here seemed to have hundreds.

Eddie must have noticed his visible anxiety. He felt Eddie’s hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“First tattoo?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah. I’ve just done a lot of first tattoos.” Eddie pulled up the picture on his own phone while he spoke. “I promise it’ll be easier than you’re thinking.”

“I’m not worried about the pain.”

Eddie glanced up at him quickly, then back down at the phone in his hand.

“It’s just permanent, ya know?”

Eddie let out a laugh and held up both of his arms, fully covered in tattoos.

“I know. That’s what’s great. Nothing in life is permanent, but these are. Even when you’re long gone, these will still be on your body.”

Steve hadn’t thought about it like that.

Permanence was something he’d always struggled with. It’s why he was so standoffish according to the two therapists he’d tried talking to. His parents had never given him an idea of what someone staying around was like, his friendships all ended when he realized he wanted to be a better person than they were capable of being, and his only serious relationship ended when he was ready for marriage and she wasn’t.

He’d been through a lot of personal growth since then, most of it thanks to Robin and some experiences at the gay clubs she took him to, and now he felt better about who he was.

He just didn’t think anyone or anything would stick around.

Robin was proving she might, but only time would tell. Plenty of time for Steve to fuck it up.

“You can still back out, man. I won’t charge you the cancellation fee or anything.”

Oh, how nice. Eddie thought he was a wimp and wasn’t even gonna follow his own policy to let him back out.

That’s shameful. He was ashamed.

“Not backing out.”

He folded his arms in front of his chest, trying to tone down the glare he could feel on his own face.

Eddie threw his hands up as he waited for the printer to finish.

“Alright. Just letting you have an out.”

Eddie looked over the few copies he’d printed, all slightly different sizes, and then lined them up on the counter facing Steve.

“What size were you thinking? Where’s this going?”

Steve pointed to the middle one, barely an inch wide.

“I was thinking my wrist?”

Eddie smiled at him.

“Sounds good, sunshine.”

Oh. That was not good.

That little thing his stomach just did?

Nope. Not good at all.

Eddie walked around the counter and gestured for Steve to follow him around the corner.

Steve found himself in awe of the room he was walking into.

He’d never seen such variety in anything. Some of it resembled the front counter, but there was also a Bob Marley poster, a rainbow flag, a whole wall of funny bumper stickers, and graffiti along the ceiling.

It was certainly a lot for the eyes to take in.

Steve kind of loved it.

He even let out a smile.

He quickly hid it away again when he heard Eddie hit his hand against the chair.

“Got it all clean already for ya. Just take a seat and get comfy.” Eddie reached over grab some gloves from a shelf before he sat in front of Steve. “Gonna put this on you first. Make sure the placement is good. Then I’ll shave that area and get all my stuff ready to go. The tattoo itself probably won’t take more than an hour, and most of that will be shading these beautiful colors. Need anything before we get started? Water? Bathroom? Snack?”

Steve’s head was spinning.

Eddie’s energy was relentless, and he had a smile on his face the entire time.

Steve couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Eddie nodded and started humming along to the song playing over the speakers.

He went through everything quickly, but still took his time explaining everything. Steve was kind of grateful he didn’t have to sit in silence; His brain wasn’t his friend when there was silence.

“Alright, sunshine. If you’re good, I’m good.”

Steve felt his face heat up, blush spreading from his cheeks to his neck.

“I’m good.”

And then he started.

It was sharp, the needles carving ink into his skin causing a new sensation up his entire arm. But it was also…good?

He’d expected it to be painful, maybe even go numb. He hadn’t expected the pain to feel like this.

He lost focus. Everything felt distant and blurry, but in a sleepy way, not in a pass out way. Steve felt himself smiling slightly, but didn’t have the energy to stop it.

He was watching Eddie work, but wasn’t really seeing anything beyond the way his fingers splayed his skin tight and the tattoo gun left ink behind.

His eyes closed at some point, but he wasn’t asleep, the faint buzz of the tattoo gun keeping him present enough to stay awake.

“Hey, sunshine. Doing alright?”

“Hm?”

He tried to focus in on Eddie’s face. Eddie was very close. He was holding his wrist.

Steve was still here.

“Need a break?”

“No. I’m good.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’d say so.”

He continued, and Steve let his mind wander again. It was nice to drift. He’d never felt this relaxed before, not even during the massage Robin got him for his birthday last year.

“Alright, sunshine. You’re done.”

Steve looked down at the tattoo now covering his wrist.

It was beautiful, even better than the picture.

He started to cry.

If he wasn’t so far gone, he’d probably be embarrassed or angry about it, but surely other people had cried after a tattoo before. Maybe Eddie would just ignore it.

“Oh, sweetheart. Do you not like it?”

“No. I love it.” Steve took a shaky breath, then another. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Eddie was rubbing his back and smiling sadly down at him.

“I’m glad you love it. I just have to wrap it up and go over some care instructions, okay?”

“Okay.”

Steve was never this vulnerable, not even with Robin. He was pretty sure she’d only actually seen him cry once when a student moved away.

His whole thing was that he didn’t show emotions. His job required it to an extent, though he was always caring to his students, giving them smiles when they came in to make them feel welcome.

But here he was smiling and crying to a stranger over a tattoo.

“Sunshine?”

“Yeah?”

“Got you some water. I need you to look at me while I go over the instructions okay?”

“Okay.”

He felt himself coming back down to earth as he looked at Eddie, a soft smile making Steve focus in on his mouth.

“That’s good. Keep this wrapped for four hours at least and longer if you’ll be outside. When you take it off, make sure you wash it with antibacterial soap gently and then use moisturizing lotion, unscented is best. If you need some, I can give you some. Make sure to keep it moisturized over the next week. It’ll peel a little, that’s normal, but if you see anything that’s a lot of color falling out or something, come see me and I can fix it. No long exposure to direct sunlight for at least 4 weeks, and use sunscreen on it if you think you will be.” He took a breath and smirked. “Got it?”

“Um.”

He handed over a paper with a laugh.

“It’s all right here. I just needed you to come back down from space. Drink your water and relax for a minute. I’ll go get the card reader.”

Steve did as he was told, enjoying the way the ice cold water helped him focus back in on his surroundings.

With the focus came the grumpiness. He was crashing from his adrenaline high, and his first instinct was to pout.

He didn’t think he was visibly doing so until he heard Eddie snort from a few feet away.

“Welcome back. Sorry to burst your bubble. If I didn’t have another client in 20 minutes, I’d probably have let you stay there for a bit. Seems like you needed it.”

“I. What do you mean? I was just zoned out.”

Eddie froze where he was typing something into his phone.

“Have you never…? Oh. Jesus Christ. Okay. Well. I don’t.” He looked genuinely concerned about what to do. “Okay. I don’t feel comfortable letting you be alone yet. Do you have someone you live with or who can hang out for a bit?”

“My roommate had a work emergency or she’d be here.”

Steve’s arms were crossed again, but the pull of the wrap around his wrist reminded him of the dull ache he was still experiencing. It made him shiver, but he couldn’t explain why.

“Okay. Can you stick around for a bit? I’ve got an office with a couch in the back.”

“Are you gonna tell me why?”

“Ever heard of sub space?”

“Like…the kinky thing?”

Eddie facepalmed.

“Yeah. Like the kinky thing.”

“I mean, I’ve heard of it. Why?”

“You just spent the last hour in it.”

Steve was usually pretty good at keeping a pretty stoic face, but his jaw dropped.

“No I didn’t.”

“Sunshine, you were gone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that deep from a tattoo before.”

“If this is just a way to get me alone in your office or something…”

“Steve. I know you don’t know me, but I would never do that. If I wanted to get you alone, I’d just ask you.”

“I’m sure I’d say no.”

“Exactly. So you’ll stay so I can keep an eye on you?”

Steve shrugged. He didn’t have anything else to do and Robin wouldn’t be home for hours.

“I guess.”

Eddie’s eyes were practically glittering.

“Good. Go lay down, sunshine. I’ll bring you more water in a minute.”

So despite Steve having no idea what just happened, and barely any idea who Eddie even was beyond a talented tattoo artist, he made his way to the office and curled up on the couch.

Pout firmly in place because he was still Steve, after all.

Chapter 2 /  Chapter 3

[wolven91]

Drought vs Flood

Cat calls.

Being called 'cute' or showered with compliments.

Paul had never really considered these an annoyance before. Hell, if he though back to his time on Earth, he couldn't remember the last time when he'd ever received a compliment from a stranger before.

No, that was a lie he realised.

Many years before, an older lady once stopped him to compliment him on a jovial Christmas jumper he'd worn. She said she liked it and that he was handsome in it too. He vividly remembered having a great day that day, despite having to deal with a queue of irate customers throughout the afternoon.

That compliment had kept the man sated for years!

As a man, Paul had never really understood the frustrations of women when they bemoaned the fact that they received compliments and manners from random strangers every day. The man would always hasten to add that he understood them from a logical point of view, but there was always a part of him that had wanted a taste of that life for a while.

Sure, maybe getting them every day might have gotten old, but after over a decade of surviving off one compliment? The man didn't *understand* the frustration. The isolation had to be worse right?

That was until the Earth was destroyed and Paul ended up like a few of his fellow humans, lost amongst the stars as a human, alone in the void.

At first, Paul thrived. He'd lived alone for seven years and with his friends moving away, getting families, or just losing touch; there had been times in his life where he'd gone whole weeks without saying a single word out loud.

After that initial period of learning the ropes, figuring out where he could get a job, food, even the stuff that wasn't quite 'legal' like a drink, Paul settled into what he expected would be a quiet life.

Only, every time he spent time out in public, like when he went to sit in the tiny bar that would serve him under the counter, it wasn't that quiet.

"I just love your fur; can I touch it?" Asked the bull-like alien as they had already begun reaching out and touching thick leather pads to the crop of hair atop Paul's head. The man shoved the alien's wrist away from him.

"No, thank you." He grunted, still hunched at the bar, uncomfortable about the two aliens that stood either side of him. Both were, alien, they had the heads of bulls but bodies that he would have given his left arm for back home. But regardless of their physical attraction, this was week three of not being able to have a single moment's peace outside of his own quarters.

"Oh come on, I read you love it when someone pets you?" Smarmed the second, quoting some bullshit, pardon the pun, text that Paul himself had read. Apparently, a few of the survivors had let slip that they were touch starved, so now every alien and their mother was quoting this as if gospel.

If Paul ever got his hands on the moron that uttered those...

"Not all humans are the same." He growled back, gripping his drink.

"Well, what if I showed you a gun? You like guns, right?" Offered the first taurian, briefly turning their hip and displaying a holster.

"I repeat, not all humans are the same." Paul was British, he thought guns were a tool and nothing more. No more exciting than a pen or a pair of expensive scissors. More than a handful of Americans made it out and had made a huge scene when they found out guns were illegal to humans. Yet more misinformation chumming the water.

"Aww come on, we're just being friendly. It's okay! I also read that your society said you had to be prudes; it's not true, you can relax." The alien explained as if she wasn't taking a big dump on the entire human civilisation and its history.

Paul sneered at the fact that he mildly agreed. The odd concepts that were considered fact back home were outright frowned on up here. With all the fur and lack of breasts on those without; clothes were almost optional by those not actively working. Granted Paul wasn't a nudist and didn't have the body to want to flaunt it, but it was a breath of fresh air to not be so gummed down with social rules.

"I was relaxed," Paul sniped, but the jab went well over the two female taurian's horns. "I just want a quiet drink." He reiterated, breathing deep and remaining calm. The sluggat barkeep watched him carefully, his eye stalks watching the taurians and the human independently. He was hanging around by the bar's emergency distress button.

"We can drink with you." Offered one of them, Paul didn't even bother looking now, instead attempting to drill a hole in the opposite wall with his eyes.

"I don't want company." He explained clearly.

"Why not?" They prodded.

"Because I said so."

"That ain't a real answer, just let us-"

"Can you actually fuck off?!" Paul snapped, turning his body to the last one to speak. "I don't want company, I don't want a drink from you, I want to be left alone!"

"Alright, fuck us, right? We were being nice and now you're acting like we're attacking you. We're the nice ones, but I guess you'll only learn that when you meet the other kind."

Paul just rolled his eyes as the pair stepped away from the bar and, as one walked past, clipped the leg of the stool Paul was sat on, jangling his already on edge nerves.

They grunted something as they passed that the translators flagged as an insult.

Paul rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed and tried to relax. The sluggat slithered over and asked if he was all right.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine." The man replied absently, using a thumb to wick the moisture off the side of his glass.

A drought, versus a flood.

That was how Paul now considered the perspective from before. How he would explain the difference of perspectives to a younger self.

How could the drowning woman understand the dying man in the desert?

It was great to be the centre of attention for a week or two, but the way they got handsy? If he didn't actively stop them, and make it clear he wasn't 'playing hard to get' that they'd start groping him?  The way they didn't give him space or even listen when he said 'no'?

Even when they were weird... and smelt bad... Not all the creatures up here were attractive.

"Fuck." The man drew the word out with a breath he only realised was shaking as his voice shuddered. With a guilty grimace, the man reached into his pocket and retrieved the data slate. He scrolled through the minimal contacts and selected his guardian.

It rang once before being answered by a near frantic voice that was obviously being kept neutral.

"Paul?"

"Hey Shu'ba. I fucked up... Can you... Can you come get me please?" The man asked humbly.

"Is everything alright?!"

"It's fine, nothing's happened, but I'd feel safer if you were near."

"I got your location, I'm two minutes away."

"Thanks, Shu'ba."

"Don't think anything of it."

"I'm sorry."

The voice of the ssypno sighed through the speaker.

"I get it's hard to have a babysitter, but we're here for a reason. It's okay, I'm almost there."

Paul stayed on the line, even though he and the sluggat were the only patrons of the bar, but when the neon green scales of his guardian slithered into the room, a wave of relief washed over him.

Perhaps it was time to stop giving the serpent the slip?

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[queenariesofnarnia]

physical touch 2

the bad batch (pre-echo) x f!medic reader

18+ content! MDNI!

wc: 1,559

part 1

warnings: smut with little plot, unprotected piv, oral f!receiving , tech is recording of course, a little knife use from hunter, and i think that is all

Touch increased on the Marauder after that night, in minor ways. Wrecker enjoys pulling you into his lap while you read in your down time. He’ll rest his head on top of yours as he chats with his vod. If you are ever sitting alone in your bed, Hunter comes to sit with you, taking it upon himself to place his head in your lap. You’ll begin to absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft curls. Crosshair’s hand rests on your lower back whenever you stand near him. When you went to the market his slender fingers made their way around your waist not letting you stray too far. Tech will hold your hand if what he’s working on requires one hand, or when he sits next to you his hand will rest on your thigh causing you to melt into his touch. Everything was going smoothly until the day you chose to test their resolve. The boys decided they were going out for drinks but tonight you chose to stay home. When it was time for them to head out for the night you wished them a goodnight standing in the entrance of the ship in a shirt you took from Wrecker.

This was the first part of your plan, underneath the shirt was a custom lingerie set you ordered in their armor color. A tiny skull gem resting at the center of your cleavage, next one  of your latest tattoos that you’ve hidden since your last leave. Their initials resting along the top curve of your breast, the other being the signature 99 located at the bottom of your spine. The moment they make you aware that they’ve made it to 79’s you’ll start on phase 2 of the plan, you’re going to send them each a picture, with a risky message attached, then get comfortable in your bed before phase 3 can spring into action, hoping it’s them devouring you. Approximately fifteen minutes pass, you have discarded the large shirt and took the raunchy pictures, when you get a message from Tech letting you know that they have made it. Time for your plan to be put into motion. Sending the first picture to Hunter.

*attachment: 1 image*

You can cut this off when you get back

then it’s Wrecker’s turn

*attachment: 1 image*

Waiting for you to wreck me tonight

then Tech

*attachment: 1 image*

I hope I’m the prettiest thing you get to record

and lastly Crosshair

*attachment: 1 image*

 I have something else you can put in your mouth

Making yourself comfortable in your nest of blankets turning on a cheesy holofilm. Knowing that you won’t be watching this for long. Thunderous footsteps made their way up the ramp, you’ve been ignoring their messages, trying to hide the smile on your face as your door swooshed open. You don’t break contact with you screen, only waving at them. The sound of Hunter clearing his throat didn’t even make you look up. Though any other occasion it would have. Crosshair took two long strides, snatching the datapad from your view and tossing it to Tech.

“Looks like you can pay attention now kitten” his coarse voice holding a demeaning tone. Finally looking up at them, taking in each of their reactions. Hunter’s jaw was clenched, his eyes darkened as they graze over your body. Stopping at the tattoo on your breast that was peaking above the lace. Wrecker looked like he just stumbled upon the best meal in the world, rubbing his large hands together as he admired you. Tech has started recording the moment they stepped foot on the ship. His gaze hungry, as he made sure to get every inch of you in the frame for later. If looks could kill, Crosshair’s stare would have you in an early grave.

“Come here mesh’la” Hunter orders patting the edge of your bed. You crawl to the edge, the sniper getting a look at the other tattoo you have been hiding from their view. “Do you want this? Because there’s no going back once you let us get a taste of you” the sergeant’s gravelly voice burning with desire.

“I don’t care if I’m screaming, crying, or begging you to slow down. Shut me up and keep going” your voice airy. Heartbeat accelerating, at the closeness and the situation you have put yourself in. Each of them let out a pleased noise. Grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger making you look at him, he leans down capturing your lips in a steamy kiss. Back arching as you release a moan into his mouth before he pulls away.

“Such a shame you’re letting me cut this off” he tuts grabbing his knife.

“I have more” you admit shyly, gaze focused on his blade.

“Lay down and eyes on me” the comes out quickly and firm. Your back hit your soft blankets, Hunter nudging your legs wider as he slots himself between them. The cool blade of the knife sends jolts through your heated skin. Slowly running it up your body until it’s under the band of your bra a quick and careful flick of his wrist your breast spill out the cup. Trailing the blade back down your body he contemplates his next move, does he want to cut off your panties or rip them off. He cuts a slit at the top of them before putting his knife away then tearing the thin material in half. Exposing your soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. Before you could clench your thighs together he keeps them spread.

“Cross I believe she promised you a taste” Hunter moves to your right side, instructing Wrecker to get behind you. Crosshair waits for his large brother to get into his position. The large clone quickly slots himself behind you pulling your back against his chest.

Positioning himself between your thighs he leans forward wrapping his fingers around your throat squeezing lightly pulling you in for a dominating kiss. His other hand acquaints itself with your soaked cunt, his thumb ghosting over your clit as he traces the lips teasingly. Eliciting a gasp from you as he trailed kisses down your body. Stopping with his lips hovering over your clit that was begging for attention. His hands now gripping your soft thighs. He teasingly laps at your folds without breaking eye contact, enjoying every moment your hips bucked towards his mouth. His teeth lightly graze your clit, pulling an almost breathless moan from you.

“You look pretty falling apart for me little tooka” Crosshair praised as he pulls away from your needy cunt. Your body reacts to the praise a new flow of arousal runs through you, Cross notices lapping it up letting his tongue explore your cunt, Wreckers calloused fingers begin to toy with your nipples adding to the pleasure you were receiving. Your moans gradually getting louder as your first orgasm of the night nears. He takes his right hand from your thigh to slip two fingers into you curling them to hit your g-spot. His attack on your clit not slowing down.

“I know you’re close. Go ahead cum on my fingers and give Tech a show” Crosshair’s words were all it took for you to fall apart. Almost screaming his name in pleasure. His fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm before he pulls them out bringing them to your lips. “Go on and taste yourself” he commands. Without breaking eye contact you lick his fingers before taking them in your mouth sucking your juices off them. He gives you another kiss calling you a good girl before he steps to the side.

“My turn” Wrecker booms with laughter easily flipping you over pulling you into his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“You gonna wreck me big guy?” your voice is soft yet sultry. Still recovering from your orgasm, yet you’re ready to take Wrecker. You grind down on his erection while placing kisses along his jaw. With one hand he lifts you up while the other lines himself up with your entrance slipping the head of his cock in with ease. He slowly slid you down his length watching your face contort in pleasure before his lips hungrily attacked yours. His hands stayed on your hips as you begin to ride his cock. Your hands gripping his shoulders, teeth clashing as you kissed. He began thrusting up into you matching your rhythm. Each thrust had echoed in the room, the sound of skin slapping together mixed with the sounds of your arousal. Burying his face in your neck to muffle the sounds of his groans. His thrust began to falter as your walls gripped him tight.

“Mesh’la I’m not going to last much longer” Wrecker grunts out in your ear.

“Fill me up big guy” your words were enough for him, a few more thrusts from him and his cum coated your walls. Triggering you to orgasm over his cock before slumping against his body. “Thank you big guy” you whisper kissing his shoulder. He held you close giving you some time to rest, before slowly slipping out, laying you on your bed.

“Give me 20 minutes” you mumble into your pillow.

“You can have two” Hunter says going to grab warm cloth to clean you up.

Tags: @huntershoe @ooostarwarsfandom501st @techscyarikaa @aynavaano

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Enchant Me Chapter 1: I Was Enchanted to Meet You✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I want to thank that purple house for giving me this whole idea in the first place, but reader and Joel are so soft in this series I’m crying 🥹 Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for listen to me babble my ideas and rant about how cute these two are in this series! We don’t have enough witchy, nature reader Joel fics, so thought I should make one ☺️✨🌙 Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, I always love hearing your feedback! 💜

Summary: Joel delivers a custom built table to a little house out in the middle of the woods, but he doesn’t realize he’s going to fall for the girl behind the doors of that small purple house. He falls head over heels for her special herbal tea, tarot card readings, and talks of nature and plants as he keeps going back to see her.

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader (Fic is in both reader and Joel’s POV)

Word Count: 7.7k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Soft Joel, lots of fluff, Joel falling in love, witchy reader, eventual smut in later chapters, plant and animal lover reader, lots of cute nicknames for reader

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon. I was enchanted to meet you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you.”

- Taylor Swift “Enchanted”

The spring breeze of April rustles through Austin as green leaves blow gently down the street, light streaks of sunlight glistening in the open shop as Joel finishes the final touches on a lilac handmade wooden side table. Tiny, intricate white flowers he’d hand painted cover the lilac material. Joel had no idea who he was making it for, he only saw the order request in the computer on his list of custom orders. Tommy must’ve talked to that particular customer when Joel was in the back crafting something.

As Joel finishes the final touches on polishing the little table, he yells for Tommy to come over. “Hey, Tommy. Who’s this order for? I just got finished, guess I can go ahead and deliver it today since we aren’t too busy,” he says as he stands up with a huff, placing a hand on his lower back as he gets up from the rough ground.

“Ahh, that one is for this sweet girl that came in a couple weeks ago. Kinda shy, quiet, but sweet as pie. Pretty thing, too. She sure talked a lot about nature,” Tommy laughs as he grabs the thick white notebook and gets your contact information out, handing Joel the address and name of the customer who had bought it.

Joel looks at it carefully as his eyes scan the address. “She lives out in the middle of nowhere,” Joel says as his eyebrows knit together.

“Yeah, all the way in Cedar Lake. Not too far, but that’s definitely not in the city. It’s only twenty minutes from here though. So, you want me to take it? I don’t mind,” Tommy replies as he leans to grab the notebook. Joel brings it out of his reach and clutches it to his chest.

“Nah, I’m the one that made it so I’ll be the one delivering it.”

“Suit yourself,” Tommy scoffs as he holds his hands up. “Tell her I said hello, will ya?”

“Sure,” Joel says as he grabs the paper with your name and address on it and shoves it down in the denim pocket of his dark jeans. He rolls his blue flannel sleeves up to his elbows and exposes tanned skin as he grabs up the table and loads it in the back of his white Chevy truck.

Once he’s inside and has the engine revved up, he pulls away from Miller’s Woodshop Creations and heads down the street, toward the direction of a long, gravel road that will take him to your place.

Cedar and oak trees fill the last half of the drive while deer scurry off from grazing in the grass as soon as they see Joel’s truck. The houses get thinner in this area, only one or two spread out with acres of land behind them. Joel keeps driving through the thick of the green, eyes trained on the narrow road ahead of him.

“Now who lives all the way out here?” Joel asks himself as his GPS stops him right as he pulls up to a single house that’s surrounded entirely by the woods.

He puts his truck into park and turns off the engine, grabbing his keys and shoving them in his pocket. Just as he steps outside into the grass, a wild rabbit runs off into the opposite direction of him and a black raven caws and flies off into a tall cedar tree.

Whoever lives here must like animals a lot.

Joel carefully retrieves the furniture from the bed of his truck and grunts his way to the front door, making his way up the few wooden steps that lead him to the front door. When he sets the side table on the wooden porch, he takes in the outside of the house.

The house is painted a deep purple color with yellow wooden rails outlining the edge of the porch. All types of different floral plants of names he doesn’t know lines each side of the cobbled stone path that leads to the front of the house. Colorful stained glass windows are sprawled on the top windows as the bottom windows sit wide open for the warm breeze to seep into. It’s unique, a house like he’s never quite seen before. Now he needs to know who lives way out here in the middle of nowhere in a little purple house that’s stacked with plants.

He knocks on the sturdy purple door three times and stands back while he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, fidgeting with his fingers as he patiently waits. Before long, he hears the creak of the door opening and looks up to say his greeting.

“Hi, I’m from Miller’s Woodshop Creations and I came to…”

He stops when he takes in the sights of you as you open the door wide, stepping out onto the porch in a lilac colored sundress that goes down to the middle of your thighs, exposing long legs as the bodice hugs your hips perfectly. He gasps at the beautiful shades of your eyes. He’s never seen such beautiful eyes before, a color that reminds him of warm summer days and clover covered fields. Your hair is in soft curls, held back by a pink ribbon as you flash him a smile that can knock him down to his knees. He thinks you’re absolutely breathtaking. The most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Oh! My little table I ordered. I had no idea it was finished! Let me see it,” you say excitedly as he steps out of the way and lets you bend over to analyze the table.

You rake your fingers over the smooth, polished wood and carefully trace the edges of the hand painted white flowers that cover the surface of the table. It’s so beautiful, exactly what you were looking for when you placed the order. You were afraid they wouldn’t see the vision you were going for, but this was exactly what you wanted. It was perfect.

“This is incredible! Exactly what I pictured it to be. Who made this?” you ask incredibly as you hover over the top of the smooth wood.

“I did,” he says nervously behind you.

You drop your hands and push yourself off the porch, turning to take in the man who made this himself. “You made this?” you ask quietly.

“Mhm. Just finished it up today,” he answers, his eyes locking on yours as he nods his head up and down slowly.

“Oh, well it’s exactly what I wanted! It’s gorgeous, thank you.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” he says with a Southern accent that stops you in your tracks.

Sweetheart. You like the sound of that a lot.

“And you are?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, curiosity swirling in your eyes at the handsome gentleman who stands in front of you.

“Oh, sorry. My name’s Joel. Joel Miller.” He holds his arm out, waiting for you to take his hand patiently, his eyes flicking over yours carefully. You slowly place your hand in his and shake.

You almost gasp when you feel his calloused fingers close over yours. He feels like magic, like shooting sparks are flying in his soft brown eyes as he holds your hand in his. You’ve never had this reaction shaking a man’s hand before. This feels… different. The magic dies as soon as he drops his hand, and you almost reach for his hand again just to feel that buzzing sensation through your body that was there when his hand was in yours.

“Miller. Is Tommy Miller your brother?” you ask with a curious smile.

“Yes, ma’am. He helps me run the shop.”

“Oh, I see. Well, Joel, I’m glad it was you that brought this by for me today,” you smile gently, fluttering your long eyelashes up at him as he blushes and pushes a hand through his tousled curls nervously. You think he’s absolutely beautiful.

“It was no trouble. And your name? I didn’t catch your name, darlin’.”

Darlin’. There he goes again with the little nicknames. You wish he’d never stop. He could just keep going. He could call you anything he wanted to, and you’d let him. As long as he came back here again.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it like honey dripping off the tip of his tongue. It sounds beautiful the way he says it. Like sweet tea that simmers in your soul. It sounds all lilty and dreamy, and you decide then that you do want to see him again.

“That’s a pretty name,” he says softly as his lips curl up into a dreamy smile that almost takes your breath away.

“Oh, uh - thank you,” you smile in return.

You take in his full features now. See the way his eyes shine like caramel in the warm sun that glazes over them, see the dark brown flecks mix with warmer colors to make the prettiest soft brown eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. His skin is tan like gold, his broad shoulders filling out the blue button-up flannel shirt that presses firmly to his strong chest. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as they expose thick veins that cascade down his arms to end in big, thick hands. Hands you’d like to hold on more than one occasion.

And his smile. God, his smile sends your insides spiraling. He’s so fucking beautiful, and you hope he’ll stay for tea. Maybe, just maybe he’ll want to try your famous hibiscus herbal tea.

Please, stay.

“Here, let me put this inside for you. It’s a little heavy, so don’t want you to try to lift it,” he says adamantly as he bends over and scoops up the little side table in his arms.

You open the door wide for him and watch him walk through the entrance as you point to your cream colored couch that sits up against the soft pastel purple colored walls. “Just right next to the couch will be fine, thank you,” you say as you watch his biceps cling to his flannel shirt, watching the way his back muscles pull against his shirt to expose thick muscles that you’d kill to run your fingers down.

He’s so gorgeous.

When he sets down the table on the dark wooden floor, he takes in your little living space. He examines your white shelf that holds purple orchids, different colored carnations, and potted hanging plants whose vines spill over the edges fluidly.

Next, he notices the windowsill that has amethyst and pink quartz crystals lined against the edge as a stack of flower tarot cards lay against the crystals. He takes in the bright colors of your kitchen as the sunlight beams through the open windows as robins chirp their melodious songs outside the window. Lavender and white tulips encase the edges of the light colored wooden countertop as it overflows with various herbs that stack neatly together.

The air smells dewy-fresh as the aroma of flowers and tea fill the air. You watch Joel take in his surroundings carefully and see his lips part open just slightly as he spins in a slow circle. You lean against the wooden countertop and rest your chin in the palm of your hand as you watch him dreamily. He’s just so handsome, so intriguing, so curious.

As he turns back your direction, you straighten up and try to act normal, but it’s so hard around him. So very hard. “You uh, you sure like flowers don’t ya?” he asks as you blush from the question.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask nervously as he comes over and leans against the opposite side of the counter, staring up into your eyes as he gently smiles.

“No, s’not a bad thing. Just I haven’t seen a house quite like yours before. It’s very… unique what you’ve done to the place,” he says as his eyes skate across your lit up kitchen.

“Well, I’m a unique person,” you giggle out, letting the single pearl necklace bounce along your tan chest.

“I can see that,” he smiles as his eyes skate down your lilac sundress, gulping when you see him rake his eyes over your full breasts and down your curvy hips and smooth thighs. You suck in a breath when his warm eyes land back on yours as you watch the sunlight trickle warm golden colors against his gentle brown eyes.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Purple your favorite color?” he asks as he examines the soft colored walls in your kitchen.

“How could you tell?” you ask as a soft giggle echoes around the small living space.

“I’m good at observations,” he says with a smirk that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

Oh, this one is gonna be a tease. You just know it.

“You live out here alone?” he asks as he walks around the counter, dragging his finger along the wooden edges as he stares at the purple orchids that lay across your wide open kitchen window.

“Yeah, it’s just me and my flowers. Also, my cat, Oliver. He’s probably outside hunting mice or something,” you laugh.

“Ahh. I see.”

You watch the way he furrows his eyebrows at the flowers, looking at them as if he’s trying to figure out what they are. Somehow you think he doesn’t know a lot about plants. Maybe you could teach him.

“Orchids,” you say as you walk up next to him, laying your hand on the wooden counter as you place your eyes on the vibrant deep purple colors of the flowers.

“Huh?” he asks as turns around and faces you.

“These are orchids.” You nod your head to the lush flowers, and an understanding grunt comes from deep within his chest.

“Oh, I see. They’re pretty,” he says as he drops his hand back to the counter. His pinky finger drags along the side of yours, and you feel hot fire run through your fingertips.

You drop your hand and watch him take a step back, eyes melding into yours as the sunlight bursts through his brown irises. You can’t help but to fall for him right then. This man was going to make you pull out the tarot cards, see if love was in your near future. With him.

He shifts his weight and leans into the edge of the counter, contemplating his next actions. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time. It was nice to meet you,” he says as he starts to walk toward the front door.

You freeze, almost choke up as the words run dry in your throat. “Wait!” It comes off desperate, loud, and you think you just ruined your chances with him. He turns back around with his eyebrows raised, maybe even alarmed that you almost screamed at him.

“Tea? Do you like tea?” you ask, desperate for him to stay a little longer. You want him, need him to stay just a few more minutes. You want to get to know this man, maybe want to give him a tarot reading, if he wanted one.

“Tea? ‘Course I do. Why do you ask?” He knits his eyebrows together as if he’s concentrating a little too hard on you, and you gulp at the sight of those gorgeous flecks of brown staring back at you.

“Will you stay for tea? I just picked some fresh herbs from the garden, and it’s the least I can do for having you deliver my furniture for me. Please,” you say as you nod to your cream colored couch, asking him to sit while you prepare the tea.

He flicks his eyes over the smooth material of the couch and back at you as his eyes blaze into yours. “Sure, darlin’. I’d love to,” he says as he moves to the couch and sits down gently as his body presses against the soft material. You have to avert your eyes from his large thighs that pull against the dark material of his jeans.

He’s so fucking broad and muscular. He was going to get you into trouble if you were already practically drooling at his Southern charm and good looks.

You smile and get to work chopping up lavender and rosemary herbs as you mix them together with elderberries and hibiscus flowers while you pour almond milk and a dash of water together. Everyone loves your herbal teas, you just hoped Joel would, too.

“So, is this one of your specialities or somethin’? You sure do have a lot of herbs and teacups around,” he says as he assesses your china cabinet full of floral tea cups and fine china that you’ve been collecting for years. Call it a hobby or an addiction, but you’ve been making tea for as long as you can remember. That’s why you have your own tea shop just a few miles down the road. A business you’ve loved every since you got to open your little shop a few years ago.

“Something like that,” you giggle as you continue mixing the various ingredients together in a large glass pitcher. “I actually own my own little tea shop a few miles down the road. It’s called Starlight’s Corner.”

“Starlight’s Corner, huh? Strange, I’ve never heard of it. Where is it located?” he asks as he leans his elbows against his knees and places his hands under his chin, eyes focused on you. You try not to blush as he watches you mix together the tea, but you fail to no avail.

“It’s just off Fourth Street, right next to a little boutique. You can’t miss it.”

“Wait, that’s not too far from my shop. I guess I’ll have to come check it out sometime,” he says with a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“Yeah, guess you should.”

After mixing the ingredients together and throwing a dash of sugar in there, you pour two glasses of the floral sweet smelling tea and walk over to him slowly. You hand him a glass and when he takes it your fingers brush up against his, causing you to jolt your hand back as purple liquid splashes over the side of the cup and lands on top of Joel’s denim covered thigh.

You gasp and set your own drink down on the glass coffee table as you run to grab a towel from the kitchen. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, really I’m so sorry,” you apologize hurriedly as you go back over and hand him the dark hand towel, your face beat red with embarrassment as you say sorry another five times.

“Darlin’, relax. It’s alright. It’s just a little spill. Nothing I can’t handle,” he says as he hushes you, circling his hand over your wrist as all worries seem to vanish at his soft touch.

Your breathing calms as you relax your shoulders, his fingers still pressed firmly around your wrist as you feel every single callous that covers his thick fingers. It’s soothing, relaxing, mind numbing as he stares up at you with those warm brown eyes of his, his chest rising and falling calmly as his other hand presses the towel to his damp thigh. And suddenly it’s like you’re in the middle of your lush garden outside, smelling the sweet scents of wildflowers and fresh air as you breathe in his mahogany scent. He smells like fresh wood and pine trees, a scent you could get completely lost in, drown in.

He suddenly drops his fingers from your skin, and it’s like you wake up from a trance. You want him to touch you again, you want to feel the flames that ignite your skin every time he traces his calloused fingers along your soft, silky skin. You want to know what he tastes like, what he sounds like if your lips ever pressed up against his soft, plush lips.

You shake your head out of your lovesick daze and grab your glass of tea as you go around to the other side of the couch and sit down next to him, just inches from your thigh meeting his. You watch him towel off the damp spot on his thigh, rubbing the material harshly as he calls it good and sits the now damp towel on the coffee table.

“Joel, again, I’m so sorry. Let me…”

He holds his large hand out and silences you as your voice stops cold. “Sweetheart, ya gotta stop aplogizin’. Really, it’s fine,” he presses as he goes to grab the half filled glass of tea. He grips it in his large hand and brings it close to his plush lips.

“I hope you like sweet tea,” you say before he takes a sip, hopeful that he won’t hate it.

“If it’s as sweet as you, I’m sure I’ll love it,” he smiles.

Your cheeks flush crimson as you take in the compliment and watch him bring the rim of his glass up to his lips, throwing back his head as you watch the hibiscus tea run slowly down his throat. You watch the way the liquid pulls at his lips, watch the way the veins in his neck bulge and flex as he drinks it down. You can’t help but lick your parched lips as you watch him gulp the liquid down. You wonder what it’d feel like to hang on his lips like that, wonder how it’d taste to run your tongue along his soft, inviting lips.

He tilts his head back up and sets the now almost empty glass back on the table as he licks his lips and smiles sweetly over at you. “Darlin’, how did I not know you had a tea shop so close to my store? This is the best tea I’ve ever had in my entire life,” he muses as you smile over at him in wonder.

“Really? You really liked it that much?” you ask with wide eyes glazing over his big brown eyes that you want to get lost in.

“Mhm. I mean it when I say that was the best glass of tea I’ve ever had,” he says as he nods his head. “Especially when it’s from a gorgeous girl like yourself,” he blushes.

Gorgeous? Oh. He called you gorgeous.

“Oh, stop,” you laugh as you stand and grab his glass up. “You want some more? I have plenty.”

“Absolutely,” he nods.

You pad your bare feet into the kitchen and find Oliver sitting at the edge of the window. His large green eyes hover over at Joel and his calico markings dance in the sunlight as he creeps into the kitchen and slowly makes his way over to Joel, inspecting the newcomer in his house.

“This must be Oliver?” Joel asks as he bends over and pets Oliver as he rubs against Joel’s leg. You giggle to yourself as that’s a sign Oliver likes someone. Looks like Joel is now welcome in his humble abode after all.

“Yep, that’s sweet Oliver. I think he likes you,” you giggle as you watch him scratch the clean fur on his back, hearing Oliver’s loud purrs echo into the open kitchen.

“Looks like it,” he chuckles out. The sound is so warm, inviting as it reverberates through his chest. It’s a sound you’d like to hear around here more often, a sound you could get used to fast.

“You have any pets, Joel?” you ask as you pour more delicious liquid into his glass and saunter back over to him, setting it on the table as to not spill anymore tea on him.

“Can’t say that I do. Never really was a cat person, but for some reason this one seems to like me,” he says as Oliver rubs up against his leg and jumps up into your lap the moment you sit down.

“Hmm, guess he has a good sense of judgement,” you wink at him, watching him nervously run a hand through his tousled dark curls. You want to run your hands through his curls, down his patchy beard that’s sprinkled with salt and pepper grey. He looks to be in his mid forties, an older man who you’d love to get to know better.

“How ummm, how old are you, sweetheart?” he asks as he drags his thick fingers through his patchy scruff, ending at his chin as he drops his hand gently back to his lap.

“Twenty-nine. And yourself?” you ask as you cock an eyebrow up at him.

“Forty-three,” he answers nervously as if to await a harsh judgement his way. You have no issue with an older man though. You wouldn’t even mind if he was your same age, you just wanted to know him. You were intrigued by his charm and creative hands.

“Forty-three, huh?” you ask as your eyes flick up and down him, memorizing his lean jaw and the way his fingers lightly flex in his lap when he has his eyes fixed on you. You were starting to read him well. He was nervous, maybe a little shy around the edges, but you definitely saw that he was nervous about his age. He shouldn’t be.

“Yeah, I’m an old man,” he jokes as his cheeks turn slightly pink from nerves.

“Nah, you’re definitely not old,” you confirm. “If you were old, you wouldn’t have been able to carry that table in for me,” you smile.

“Forty-three ain’t too old for ya?” he teases, but his eyes focus intently on you, needing to know he had a chance. And he definitely had a chance.

“No, it’s the perfect age,” you smile shyly.

He laughs and shakes his head, making a stray curl fall against his forehead. Without even thinking, you take your hand and push it back out of his eyes and feel just how silky smooth his hair really is.

His lips part open as you realize just how close to his face you are now, just a couple inches from his plush lips that probably taste of velvet. Your heart speeds up as you stare into his beautiful eyes, seeing every single golden brown fleck that glistens like galaxies in his eyes. You feel your hand drop to his chest, feel him lean forward as you inhale that woodsy scent that draws you to him. You’re so close, so close to a taste of heaven you so desperately want to reach.

When you realize just what you’re doing, you push back from him and put some distance in between the two of you as you catch your breath and come back down to reality. You almost kissed him. Why the fuck did you stop? You take a large drink of your tea and let the floral flavors float down your throat, hoping it’ll cool off your flushed cheeks as you feel fire burn through your core.

Get a hold of yourself. You just met this man.

Joel clears his throat and shifts his weight on the couch, grabbing his glass as he takes another generous gulp of the purple tea. Oliver sits across the room now and stares in between the two of you, meowing as even he feels the connection in the quiet room.

Joel clears the air as the heated moment disappears for the time being. “So, you’re a flower girl, huh?” he asks as his eyes gaze around the room at all your colorful hanging pots of flowers and plants that line the walls.

“How could you tell?” you ask with a flirtatious gleam in your smile.

“Oh, you know. Lucky guess,” he smirks as you feel your insides coat with warmth.

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” you giggle. “I have an entire garden out in the backyard, too. Actually, more like an enchanted forest, but you know. You’d have to see it to believe it.”

“Oh, yeah? You gonna show it to me?” he asks as a smile curls against his lips, making a dimple appear that nearly brings you to your knees. He’s so pretty that it hurts.

“If you want me to,” you say through long lashes that fan out for him.

He chuckles lightly and nods. “C’mon then. Show me,” he says as he stands and reaches for your hand. You’re hesitant at first, but he keeps it extended and nods down at his hand. “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you want to show me.” That’s all the encouragement you need.

You take his hand as he helps you up, feeling his calloused fingers close around yours as he pulls you off the velvety surface. He keeps his hand latched around yours until you make it to the back door, feeling a sigh escape your lips as his warmth leaves your hand the moment he drops his fingers from yours. His hand in yours felt so good, it felt right.

You slide on a pair or sandals and lead him down your back porch, past the flowing stone fountain where birds are sitting getting drinks and ruffling their feathers as they bathe in the cool water. You lead him down a winding stone path and watch as he follows close behind.

You trail your fingers on some tall standing cedar trees and push past a small field of sunflowers, watching as the golden finches hang on the flower stems and feed on the seeds. You look behind you and see Joel looking all around him as he takes in the sights of crowded red rose bushes and white tulips that sit side by side as their colors paint each other crimson and white.

“Where are you taking me?” he laughs as he follows close behind.

“You’ll see,” you smile back at him as you grab ahold of his wrist and whisk him to the left, nearing your favorite spot in the place you call your enchanted forest.

As you round a small corner and go through a vine wrapped awning, you pull him into the middle of a large circular field that has rows and rows of different colored wildflowers that scatter across the entire field. Beds of strawberries, grape vines, and all types of various herbs have their own raised beds. Lavender, white lilies, purple irises, and different types of carnations display every which was as the sound of the rushing stream that sits behind a forest of trees carries through the wind. This is home to you.

You spin around and find Joel looking dazed as he takes in his surroundings. He runs his large hands across the growing lavender as he lets his fingers dwindle on the green stems, looking carefully over everything that sits in front of him. He looks to be in awe.

“Welcome to my little place I call my enchanted forest,” you say as you continue staring at him as he slowly turns your direction, releasing his fingers from the lavender that sways slowly in the spring air.

“Did you grow all this?” he asks with wide eyes as you see a Monarch butterfly land softly on the side of his sleeve.

“I did. Took me a little over a year to get everything going, but I think it turned out nicely.”

You walk over in front of him and hold your finger out to the butterfly, watching it come to you as it crawls over your index finger, letting you hold it carefully in your hand as you smile and say hello to the beautiful butterfly.

“Beautiful creatures, aren’t they?” you smile, watching it flap its bright orange wings as it flies off in the direction of some pink wildflowers.

You turn slowly to Joel, and he’s just standing there staring at you as if he’s stuck in a trance. His golden brown eyes gaze into yours as his lips part just the slightest. “Yeah, they are,” he says quietly. But he’s not looking at the butterfly anymore, he’s looking at you. You feel your cheeks burn hot at the way he’s looking at you. He makes you feel so nervous yet so beautiful at the same time. It’s strange, really. Nothing you’ve experienced before.

“Did you know they’re the state insect of Texas?” you say proudly as you pick up a fallen lavender rose off the ground.

“No, I didn’t know that. Fascinating,” he says awestruck, his voice quiet again as his eyes never waver from yours.

You twirl the purple rose in your hand and smile down at it as your fingers brush over the soft, velvety petals. Lavender roses mean enchantment, wonder, and love at first sight. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you walk over to Joel and slip the rose inside the pocket on his blue flannel shirt, accentuating his look as he looks down and runs his finger over the flower.

“You know, all roses have different meanings, depending on their color,” you say as you rock on your heels, your hands behind your back as you play with your fingers nervously.

“Oh, what’s this color mean?” he asks as he runs another finger over the soft petals.

“It means enchantment, wonder, and admiration,” you smile, leaving the love at first sight out as you feel the sun warm your rosy cheeks.

His eyes look up into yours as a small smile curls against his lips, his eyes lighting up like warm honey that you want to drown in. “Enchantment, is that right?” he asks as he takes a step closer to you, his leather boots meeting the edge of your open sandals as you suck in a breath.

“That’s right,” you say quietly, eyes never leaving his warm colored irises.

“Well, you sure enchanted me, sweetheart,” he smiles, his eyes staring straight into yours as you feel warmth overwhelm all your senses.

You enchanted him.

You break his gaze and look down shyly, unable to say anything to that sentence except just to blush and turn around so he doesn’t see the ridiculous smile that’s covering your face. Turns out he enchanted you, too.

“Come here, I want to show you something else,” you say as you lead him over to the large white trellis walls where blackberry vines trail along the ladder. You fill your hands with the deep colored blackberries and tell Joel to follow your lead.

He looks at you with knitted eyebrows as you tell him to be quiet and watch his step. You take him to the edge of the woods where the trees are thick and tall, a sea of green sprawled out in front of you as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, calling to the family of deer that usually greet you every evening.

“What are you doin’, darlin’?” he asks quietly as he leans up against the smooth bark of a tall cedar tree.

“Why don’t you take a look?” you smile as you nod your head in the direction of the woods. He straightens up as he watches the pack of deer walk cautiously out into the open as they gather around and greet you.

“Hey there, guys. You hungry?” you ask as you hold your hand out for them to come up to. They come all at once, their reddish-brown coats glistening in the sun as their long legs patter lightly against the green grass. Their wet noses kiss your skin as they eat the berries slowly out of the palm of your hand. You giggle as their wet noses tickle your skin.

Joel stares in wonder, his eyes focused on you as you laugh and smile as each of the deer take berries from your hand. He watches how happy you are as you reach out your open palm and stroke gently over their backs, amazed that wild deer allow you to touch them.

He watches how your eyes light up each time one of the females rub their head gently against the middle of your arm, watches the way you interact and speak to them as if they’re human themselves.

He’s smitten with your smile. That damn beautiful smile that takes the breath from his lungs. And God, he thinks he’s falling in love. He’s never seen someone quite like you before. You’re so soft, so gentle. Almost as if you’re a delicate rose yourself.

You catch him watching you with the daze of his warm eyes, a soft smile etching the corner of his mouth as he stares at you. It’s like he’s in a trance, and it makes you tingle with pure delight inside.

“Joel, come here,” you instruct as you nod your head and call him over.

“Oh, no I couldn’t,” he says timidly as he leans harder against the tree. You’re not letting him get off that easily.

“Joel, please. Just give me your hand.” You reach for him and take his hand in yours, leading him over carefully to the family of deer. He doesn’t pull his hand away, he just keeps his fingers tightly closed over yours.

“Here, wanna feed them?” you ask as you scatter some blackberries in his calloused hands. He slightly hesitates at first, but then he eases up as he holds his hand out and lets one of the females eat out of the palm of his hand. You watch him carefully as his face relaxes, his shoulders lowering as his hand lays flat with the berries inside them. Another deer comes over and starts grazing out of his hand, and you swear you see a little twinkle in his brown eyes.

“I think they like you,” you giggle, watching the way they crowd around him just like they do with you.

“I’ve never fed wild deer before. It’s… well, it’s…”

“Amazing.” You finish his sentence for him as he nods his head up and down.

“Exactly that,” he replies.

When the blackberries are gone, you gently take his hand in yours and reach his arm out, showing him how to pet them the right way so they’ll remember him and want to come back later. You keep your hand on top of his and guide it along the soft fur as one of the females lets you stroke the top of her head. You drop your hand from Joel’s and watch him still trail his hand up and down the deer’s side, seeing the way a soft smile spreads across his face.

“There you go. You’re a natural,” you beam as his honey eyes meet yours, sending a wave of bliss down your entire body.

He just shakes his head and chuckles out a deep laugh. “I swear, it’s like you’re Snow White. You’re really somethin’ special, aren’t ya?” he asks as his eyes sink into the pits of your soul.

Special. He thinks you’re special.

“Thank you for thinking that,” you giggle shyly. “I just know how to get in touch with nature. It’s one of my favorite places to be,” you say with a sing-song voice as you tilt your head and take in the splashes of warm sun against your skin.

Joel just watches dreamily as you close your eyes and take in the sun. He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, knows just how special you are. He thinks he knew the moment he laid his eyes on you.

When all the deer have left, you give him a tour of your grand garden, telling him all about your favorite flowers and take him down to the edge of the stream as little minnows swim around the middle of the clear water. When you start to lead him back to the house, he starts up light conversation again.

“You really are an expert on nature, aren’t ya? Anything from flowers to planting herbs to animals. You’re really quite somethin’,” he says mesmerized as he stops on the edge of the porch and lingers his hand next to yours, grazing his thumb lightly against the back of your hand as you feel the sparks light up like a million fireworks going off at once. It’s warm, feels safe, makes you feel alive as you trail your pinky finger against his. You want to dance in the flames, let the orange sparks ignite your soul as they take you down to devour you whole.

“You think so?” you smile, watching his honey glazed eyes trail over yours.

“Mhm. Just like a little garden fairy,” he teases as he traces his calloused fingers down your jawline slowly. “Gonna have to teach me more, enchantress,” he whispers as his fingers drop from your jawline, your face burning with desire as you beg to be touched by him again.

Enchantress. The word echoes through your mind as his Southern drawl crashes through your ears. Enchantress, you repeat back to yourself. He’s so sweet, just like the honey that swims in his captivating eyes.

“I’d like that,” you swallow as nerves build in your chest.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens up a blank contact page on the lit up screen, handing it to you so you can type in your phone number. You take the phone from his hands and dance your fingers over the keyboard, putting a fairy emoji next to your name as you push save. You hand it back over to him as he slides it back into the pocket of his jeans.

The sun starts to set as colors of deep purple, bright orange, and dark pink paint the sky red as the sun slowly slips beneath the fluffy clouds. He rakes a hand through his tousled curls and nods your direction as he steps down the porch steps. You wish he’d stay for dinner, but you should probably let him get back home.

“It was nice meeting you, darlin’.” He says your name slowly as it drips off his tongue like sweet molasses, sending butterflies flitting through your stomach. “You gonna save some of that sweet tea for me next time?”

Next time. That means there will be a next time. Another day with Joel Miller sipping on your herbal tea as you teach him all about your favorite things. It sounds absolutely magical.

You smile gently at him and shake your head. “I’ll have a pitcher waiting for you,” you promise.

He chuckles as a smile splays against his gorgeous face, painting his eyes the color of hazelnut coffee. So fucking beautiful. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll hold you to it.”

He turns and walks back to his Chevy truck, but before he makes it he turns around and gives you one more long, waning glance. His eyes full of admiration. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” you whisper back to him, letting the soft wind carry your voice over to him. He gives you one more lingering smile and then walks away. You watch him start the engine and watch as the his headlights disappear through the trees, down the gravel road that’ll lead him back home.

You turn and slide down your porch, leaning your elbows against the edge of your lilac dress as you let out the longest sigh you’ve ever breathed out of your mouth. Oliver comes up and brushes up against your hip, meowing as he stares up at the lingering dirt in the air from Joel’s truck.

“Yeah, Oliver, I think I like this one, too,” you sigh, daydreaming about the next time you’ll see those dreamy brown eyes of his again.

Joel lays in his bed that night, twirling the lavender colored rose between his fingers, inhaling the scent of fresh gardens, sweet smelling flowers, and you. He’s already memorized your exact smell. You smell like rose petals, lilacs, and sweet tea. It’s intoxicating, a fragrance he can’t seem to get out of his head.

And your smile. God, that sweet smile you give him makes him a weak man. He could never say no to you as long as you fluttered those long, dark eyelashes up at him as you flash him that beautiful smile. The one that makes his heart swell in his chest. He can’t wait to see you again. Just the thought of him pulling you in his arms with that form fitting lilac sundress sends chills down his spine. Joel Miller is not one to fall easily, but for you it might be as easy as putting one foot in front of the other.

He places the soft purple rose on his mahogany bedside table and takes a picture as his camera flashes over the rose. He pulls up your name and attaches the picture with a cute little message.

Please, don’t mess this up, Joel. She’s too perfect.

Your phone chimes on your cream painted nightstand, and you roll over in your queen sized bed, taking the lilac sheets with you as you reach for your iPhone. You see a number you don’t recognize on the lit up screen and slide the lock open. Your heart jolts as soon as you see the picture of the lavender rose on his nightstand, the words take your breath away. It’s him, Joel.

Joel: Thanks again for the rose, little enchantress.

You melt as you read the text over and over and over again. Little enchantress. The nickname nearly makes you fall out of bed with how sweet it is. You text him back a couple minutes later.

You: You’re so very welcome. You’re always welcome to come get some more. My garden is always open.

You end the text with a smiley face and a rose emoji, setting your phone back on the nightstand after pushing send and then hug the silky purple pillow to your chest.

He kept the rose you gave him. He kept the rose. He was thinking about you just like you were thinking about him.

You turn again in your silky lilac sheets and inhale the soft vanilla candles that burn in the corner of your room. The gentle breeze of night slips through your cracked window and blows the sheer white curtains to the side. Shadows dance across your lilac covered walls, and it almost looks like two people slow dancing in the moonlight. You pretend it’s you and Joel, dancing under the moonlight as he pulls you close and grazes his lips against yours, pretend his hands envelop yours as his calloused fingers graze the edges of your face.

You turn back around and close your eyes, wishing for dreams of dark eyes and tousled curls. Joel, Joel Joel. You were all his, all for the taking. He just needed to come sweep you off your feet, and you’d be his. You already knew, he was the one you wanted, the one you’d been wishing for for your entire life. He was the one.

Joel was the one.

Tags: (Please let me know if you do not want to be tagged. I figured you guys would want to read!) @joelalorian @joelmillersblog @vividispunk @tuquoquebrute @mountainsandmayhem @princesatracionera @blueseastorm @janaispunk @amyispxnk @bambisweethearts @vivian-pascal @strawberri-blonde @dugiioh @akah565 @ka-x-in @orcasoul @lotusbxtch @reddedmiller @r3dheadedwitch @pedrostories @jasminedragoon @msjarvis @littlevenicebitch69 @ezrasbirdie-main @cherrybombsxxx @thischarmingmandalorian @prettytulips @burntheedges @sweetercalypso @keylimebeag @casa-boiardi @vvitchesh3x @laurrrra

[merakiui]

oooh we can order from aus?? may i please order assorted macarons for yan! kazuscara roommate au and azul childhood friend au with sea salt caramels, chamomile tea, and some sugar hearts (marking)? ^.^ thank you for your excellent customer service, ill be sure to leave a tip!

yandere!kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, non-con, somnophilia, drugging, obsession note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴋᴀᴇᴅᴇʜᴀʀᴀ ᴋᴀᴢᴜʜᴀ

☆ Kazuha isn’t someone who succumbs to jealousy easily. But when he learns that his dear, sweet roommate is preparing for a night out, he feels…restless. He’s subtle when he asks about this date you seem so keen on attending, smoothly prying for more information, and since he’s your friendly roommate who could do no harm you tell him the details, if only so he’ll know your whereabouts should anything happen. 

☆ Kazuha adores everything about you. From the way you light up when doing something you love to the way you get so into playful arguments with Scara to the way you accompany him on grocery runs, everything you are is just so wonderful. He’s penned dozens of haikus and sonnets dedicated to you in a secret notebook of his. He often daydreams of you, allowing you to live rent-free in his mind, and every thought he has of you makes him feel incredibly happy that you live under the same roof as him. 

☆ So it’s a little unfair that you continue to seek companionship with others when he’s right here, always willing to lend an ear, always willing to talk, always willing to spend time with you. Kazuha knows that it isn’t right to take you away from your other friends, but sometimes he can’t help the pangs of envy. Some days he wishes it was just you and him in the world; perhaps if that were the case you’d have no choice but to look at him as more than a roommate—as more than a kind, friendly face.

☆ Hours before your date, he’s brewed some herbal tea to help ease your nerves. He tells you you’ll be lovely company on your date and that whoever the lucky person is will be happy to get to know you. You take the tea from him with a grateful smile, and he looks back to his laptop screen, occasionally sneaking glances at you to see how you’re faring. 

☆ You’ve drunk every last drop of tea, and when he looks up from his monitor some time later he finds you sprawled on the sofa. Kazuha stands from his seat and walks over to you, bending down to peer at you while you sleep soundly. He was content to charm you the normal way when you’re awake (and he had told himself he could be patient), but with the way you look so precious lying before him it makes it impossible to resist. He’ll just kiss you a little, perhaps give you a hickey or two so your date will know you already have someone.

☆ That was Kazuha’s initial plan. And while he still does suck love bites into your skin, pulling away each time to admire them and run his fingers over the bruised skin, he becomes so immersed in the way your body responds to his touch and kiss. Before he can stop himself, he’s found himself between your legs. His hands keep your thighs spread, and he listens for the tiny whimpers that occasionally slip past your lips. This isn’t a bad thing; you like it just as much as he does. If you didn’t, your body wouldn’t be showing him just how enjoyable you think it is.

☆ He spends plenty of time savoring you, allowing his skillful hands to work you open slowly. Kazuha wants to take his time with you; he wants this moment to be special and sacred. He watches your face during it, notes every little twitch and moan. His kisses are sweet and gentle, so full of love. He could do this all day, showering you in his adoration, worshiping you like you’re the only one he’ll ever know. 

☆ By the time he’s finally slotted himself inside your tight hole, you’re covered in hickeys. He may have gotten slightly carried away, but isn’t that the beauty of true love? He could lose himself in you forever and he’d still find something new to appreciate. 

☆ Kazuha makes good use of his time. He wrings so many orgasms out of you, your body giving him all the sweetest answers to unspoken questions, and afterwards he washes you, covers every hickey with artfully applied makeup, and dresses you in an outfit that makes you look so stunning. You question it when you come to later, sitting up on the sofa with furrowed brows, but he doesn’t provide any direct answers. 

☆ Kazuha’s still typing away at his laptop. He asks if you’re still intending on going on your date and you spring up, hurrying to grab your phone (which he had made sure to charge; Kazuha is always so considerate). He looks at you just as you prepare to leave through the front door, a pleasant smile softening his handsome face. He tells you to enjoy your date.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ

☆ Another date. He’d call you a slut, but that would be too flattering. You came home from your last one covered in hickeys (though he’s yet to figure out that was Kazuha’s handiwork) and now you’re planning to go out again. Do you ever get bored of meeting with strangers all the time, or are you so lonely that you have to chase after every available pulse?

☆ Scaramouche is accessible. You see him every day. He’s seen you in the thinnest of sleepwear. You’ve seen him right when he emerges from the bath with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. And yet for every intimate encounter, you walk past him and the divide grows and grows. Although this is partially Scaramouche’s doing; he’s always so cold to you, always pushing you away because it’s the only way he can protect his own fragile heart. 

☆ He could ask you on a date. He could confess and see how far that gets him. Or he could continue to wallow in his feelings, doubtful and anxious about whether or not you might reciprocate. Although when he notices the bites that you fail to hide, each one littering your neck and wrists like jewelry, whether or not you might love him in return doesn’t matter. All that really matters is that you have been marked by someone else—marked by someone who isn’t him. He needs to fix this. 

☆ Scara has his connections. It’s easy to get a few particularly strong sleeping drugs from a certain underground doctor, who annoys the soul out of Scara, but it’s worth it for you. You have no idea how much he loves you. He’s willing to subject himself to hellish irritations just for you. That’s undeniably a testament of his love. You ought to recognize it and be grateful. 

☆ Kazuha has left for the weekend—something to do with his major, he had explained—which leaves you and Scara all alone for two days. He’s pleased to cook for you, veiling his happiness in barbs and scowls so that you won’t know that he actually cares for you. And while you’re occupied washing up, he slips the drugs into your meal, watching as the tablets dissolve. The Doctor had explained how they work, how long they’ll knock you out for, and how many should be given to get the desired result without causing any harm. He’ll prove to you that the one you need is right in front of you, however indirectly and discreetly he may be going about it.

☆ For all the times you’ve argued and playfully bickered, you still trust him. After all, you’ve been living together for so long. The two of you have become good friends, even if Scara is a grump who can never admit his true feelings. That’s why you think nothing of it when you eat and talk about your plans for the weekend with him, and as time drags on your consciousness begins to fade. You think you might just be tired because you’ve eaten a good meal, but that’s the last coherent thought your brain produces before you slip into a deep slumber, slumped in your chair like a drunk. Scara smiles at you from where he sits, watching you for a brief moment to confirm you’re truly asleep, before he gets up and gathers you in his arms to bring you to his room. 

☆ He’s watched you sleep before during move nights or anime marathons, but this is different. His intentions back then were purely admiration. Scara’s hands are cold against your bare skin, wandering with eager curiosity. You’ve always been so perfect in his eyes, and he’s always wondered what it might be like to have you under him like this, wide-eyed and gasping, your arms pulling him in for more. He leans down to listen to your steady heartbeat, testing the waters with little touches. His fingers trace your hips, circle your nipples, prod at your navel. You don’t stir, and a pleased smile crawls onto his face.

☆ Scara’s fingers are curling inside you, spreading you open in preparation of something larger, while his other hand holds yours tightly. He’s murmuring all sorts of things while he presses open-mouthed kisses to the places that have yet to be claimed, biting and sucking until bruises remain in his wake. He tells you he loves you, and it feels so wonderful to admit that. Even if you aren’t awake to hear it, he says it over and over, squeezing your hand and capturing your silent lips in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. 

☆ He pretends that both of you are lovers when he ruts into you, slowly at first, before bottoming out completely, his heart thrumming wildly. All this time he’s fantasized about a moment like this, and now he can finally live it. He can finally feel you clench around him. He can finally hold you in his arms and tell you heartfelt sentiments without restraint. And you, his precious sleeping beloved, accept him and all that he is (you have no choice). 

☆ He has to take a few photos for later use. After all, he has to make the most of his limited time with you. Though it feels like no amount of time could possibly satisfy him, he’s greatly pleased knowing you won’t be making it to your date. Certainly not in this state, marked and bruised by him. And maybe you’ll finally realize he’s all you need. If you can’t see that, then he’ll just have to teach your body instead. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴀᴢᴜʟ ᴀꜱʜᴇɴɢʀᴏᴛᴛᴏ

☆ Despite all he had done to keep you away, you became Azul’s first friend. Azul had thought you were wonderful—a stark contrast to the annoyance he’d pretend to feel whenever you'd visit his octopus pot—but he would never verbalize that truth. It remained locked in his hearts, festering as the years passed and he grew up alongside you. Eventually, your pair became a group of four when the Leech twins swam into the picture, and now Azul had three friends.

☆ Even though you have a tail with the prettiest of scales and youʼre what everyone would call normal, you still chose to spend time with him, the weird, slimy octo-mer who was bullied mercilessly. To this day it boggles Azulʼs mind that you would willingly give your time and companionship to him. And not just for a few months of entertainment; you stayed by his side for years. Itʼs only natural that he would affix himself to you, finding joy in your presence.

☆ When the both of you were little, you would hole yourselves up in the cramped comforts of his octopus pot and talk about all manner of things. Azul remembers these conversations fondly. He remembers how you never shrunk away from his tentacles when they would cradle you, awkwardly writhing to make as much room for you as possible. You never laughed at him or called him slow. You never thought he was a weak, squishy crybaby. Itʼs your kindness that Azul often thinks back on when he finds himself at his lowest, and just the mere vision of you painted within his mind is enough to soothe him.

☆ So when he returns to the Coral Sea after spending so much time on the surface as a human, he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s last seen you. The two of you have stayed in contact, of course, but nothing can top seeing a dear friend in person. Unfortunately, you seem to be talking about a newfound love. In the time that Azul was gone, you’ve remained here, spending time with others, getting to know more mers, and finding love.

☆ He was foolish to think all would be as he had left it. Of course you’d find love; you’re so very lovable. But you were always meant to love Azul. It was Azul you promised to marry when you were whispering faux wedding vows through giggles when you were little. That may have been childish whimsy, but back then Azul held onto those promises, however joking they may have been. And he has hoped that they might come true one day. But with someone else in the picture… He realizes there will never be any room for him. He’ll never have a chance.

☆ Perhaps he should feel bad about slipping something into your food when he invites you to his mother’s restaurant and prepares a meal for you, all of it on the house. A reunion gift, he calls it with that charming smile of his. And you think nothing of it, happily thanking him and eagerly filling him in on all of the things he’s missed while he was on the surface. Azul watches you adoringly. You finish everything on your plate.

☆ It’s been so long since he’s relaxed in his octopus pot. It’s still as he left it when he returns, carrying you in his arms. You look so peaceful when you’re asleep, limp and pliable and so very perfect. He lays you in the octopus pot and stares at your shimmering tail, the colors so vibrant they’re nearly hypnotizing.

☆ He’s always thought of kissing you, so when he leans down and tentatively places his lips on yours he feels like he’s just accomplished a lifelong goal that he’s been working towards for years now. Unable to resist any longer, he curls inside the octopus pot, with you cradled in his tentacles. He’s holding you firmly, not hard enough to bruise you, and presses himself against you, feeling your heartbeat against his.

☆ An idea occurs to Azul while he’s squeezing every part of you, his suckers affixing to your chest and your slit, tasting and feeling all at once. He can’t contain the smile that spreads on his face or the delightful whimpers that slip past his lips when he holds you close, rutting a thicker tentacle along the lips of your slit. He realizes, in the midst of mindless pleasure, that if you’re covered in enough marks from his suckers this newfound love of yours will know you’ve already been claimed.

☆ For once he’s content playing the role of the gross, weird octopus, if only to chase away any potential suitors and keep you by his side where you rightfully belong. And in the comforting quiet of an octopus pot, Azul makes you his in more ways than one.

[lillsisamarshmallow]

Bake, Eat, Run (1)

Chapter Summary: Y/n tries to follow her Dog hybrid friend back home to make sure he's okay, when she ends up in a dead-end alley what will she do? Why does she feel like someone's watching her? Is she safe?

 Word count: 2k

 Warnings: Mentions of Bruises, Mentions of Unsafe areas

  << Pervious | Next >>     

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

   My keys clattered against the glass as I turned them to unlock the door, pushing it open the tiny bell chimed the sound filling up the small bakery café. The morning light shining through the various windows illuminating the place. Closing the door and walking over to the counter, I placed my bag and keys before heading over to the light switch flipping them all and turning on the radio, the café lit up as the low noise of the radio flooded through the room.

 Over on the other side of the café I quickly reorganized the books on the shelf that customers from yesterday had been reading, I choose a cd from the pile before inserting it into the player, the music tying everything together and bringing the place alive. A small smile splayed on my face, my feet moving me to the kitchen I grabbed some wipes and begin to wipe down the counter before moving on to the benches swaying with the music and humming the tune.

 The bell chiming brought me out of my trance, turning to look at the door I saw Seoyeon entering the store, her dark hair framing her face, a halter top paired with some baggy jeans and light-yellow cardigan. She placed her bag on the table I'd already wiped down before turning to me, a smile clear on her face, her infectious aura affecting me, a grin began tugging at my lips as she walked over.

 "Morning" She vocalized in a sing-song voice "How was yesterday? Sorry I couldn't be here, mum insisted that I went with her".

 "You left me with the shop all by myself." I grunted remembering the events of yesterday, Seoyeon had rung me around this time yesterday saying she wouldn't be able to make it because her mum had needed her help with planning a garden party for her business associates.

 "You weren't alone."

 "Yes, I was."

 "No, you had Nali and Haewon here," She sassed "I know they're young, but they work hard. They're good kids".

 "I know but they're only here after school Seoyeon." Sighing I smiled up at her from my leaning position of wiping tables. "It's fine, but maybe next time try to give a heads up so I can organize someone to come in."

 "Okay boss!"

 "Yah! Stop that" I rolled my eyes and wacked her with the rag before her screech of disgust ripped through the air causing a laugh to ripple out of my throat.

 "Okay! Okay! ...meanie" Pretending not to hear that last part I moved on to ask her about the planning, shuffling over to start another table.

 "It was boring, honestly what do you expect? A bunch of old people sipping their wine and discussing who has the most successful grandchildren. The food was nice though".

 Humming in agreement I finished wiping the benches and started touching up some of the table condiment sets.

 "Yeah, well I'll go put my stuff down and start helping open up shop. " I heard Seoyeon say.

 Standing up we both went back over to the kitchen to finish opening shop.

                     The café had been busy this morning, but it was slowing down now before the lunch rush. It was nearing 11am which was my lunch break, I was making the last coffee before my shift ends.

 "One Vanilla Latte for Chaeyoung?" I spoke out eyes scanning the waiting customers before a young lady with blond and black hair appeared in front of me.

 "Here you go, Have a nice day."

 "Thank you and you too".

 Turing around I took off my apron and rinsed my hands before heading into the kitchen. Walking the oven in the corner I slipped on some oven mitts before opening it. A rush of hot air hit my face and I grabbed the tray of pastries I had made earlier placing it on the counter.

 Removing the oven mitts, I looked over the pastries to ensure they were cooked, grabbing a small plate I moved a few over before putting the rest in the cooling rack.

 5 should be enough besides there's a few different options anyways.

 Holding the plate, I got some drinks from the fridge.

 "Seoyeon I'm going on my lunch break!" I yelled to her. "Okay! Say hi for me" She responded from the front sounding quite busy serving customers.

 "Will do!" I opened the back door keeping it ajar with my foot while trying to squeeze through with my hands full. Stepping outside I put the plate and bottles on the small table we had before sitting down myself.

 It didn't take long before I saw a head of blond hair accompanied by golden dog ears walking down the alley cautiously trying not to be spotted by the wrong person.

 "Hey Jimin!"

 Worried brown eyes met my own upon realizing who I was his eyes soften and a smile splayed on his face. He got a bit closer before speaking, I stood up to greet my friend.

 "Hi Y/N.." Jimin spoke quietly, by now I was used to his small quiet nature, trying not to be noticed by people. Thankfully customers didn't come out here and not many people walked down this alley.

 Jimin had been coming to have lunch with me for the past few weeks, I had caught him going through our trash one day looking for food, I had startled him as at first, I had yelled thinking he was a criminal. After that day I would leave some food out on our back table for him with small little notes introducing myself and labelling the foods. Whenever I left chocolate muffins out, they were always left behind. Eventually I walked into him while going for my lunch break, he didn't talk much but he sat down with me, and over time we developed a friendship.

 We sat down at the small outdoors table with the food "Seoyeon says 'Hi'. I've got muffins, some croissants and an apple danish, have whichever you like. " I began "Oh and some banana milk and water. I hope this is okay".

 Jimin look astonished at the array of pastries on the plate. "Y/N, I can't-" "Yes you can, and you will." I cut him of "Please, I don't have anyone else to spend my lunch break with Seoyeon is working" Although both Jimin and Seoyeon knew of each other they hadn't properly met per Jimin's request when we first started having lunch together, but I'd relay greetings and hellos for each of them.

 Jimin smiled but I could see the guilt behind his eyes. "...Okay" a grinned spread on my lips as he reached for a croissant, before he picked it up, he looked to me nervous. I gave him the biggest approving smile I could letting him know it was okay, I grabbed the danish myself before taking a bite.

 This batch came out well I thought to myself before swallowing and looking over to Jimin.

 "How have you been?" I asked him.

 "I've... been okay".

 Not noticing the small hesitation in his voice, I continued "That's good to hear" Munching on my food. "How about you? He questioned. "I've been good, been trying to come up with some new dishes for the new menu."

                        Jimin and I continued to talk for the remainder of my lunch break, I noticed that today, much like the past few weeks Jimin hadn't eaten much. I always let Jimin talk any of the left-over pastries from our lunches but recently he's been leaving more left over to take for later. At first, I thought he just wasn't that hungry or wanted to save some for dessert or something later, but it seems like it's more than that. I wrapped up the pastries in one of my food bandanas making sure to include the banana milk he refused to drink but still wanted before handing it over to him.

 "Thank you for joining me for lunch again Jimin" I beamed.

 "Thank you for letting me have lunch with you and-" he gestured to the bag of foods not continuing his sentence.

 I nodded at him, and he smiled back at me.

 "I'll see you around yeah?"

 "Of course."

 We parted ways as Jimin continued down the alley before taking a turn, I went back to the shop walking inside closing the door, I walked through the kitchen placing the plate in the sink stuck in thought.

 Why is he saving so much food? Is everything okay? Maybe he just doesn't like my baking? Where does he even go after lunch, he goes down the alleys but where do they lead? I hope he's not in trouble or anything. There is a lot of criminals in those alleys, I hope he's safe...

 "What's wrong? You seemed lost in thought" Snapping me from my train of worries and thoughts Seoyeon's voice saves me. Turning to look at her she looks concerned.

 "It's just-" Not sure if I should continue, I look to the door biting my lip. "I'm worried about Jimin, he's saving most of the lunches and not eating, and he's always walking through those alley ways by himself. I swear I saw some bruises on him the other day." I mumbled just loud enough to hear.

 "Oh no.." The worry was clear in her voice despite not having met Jimin, Seoyeon worried about him also. "That's terrible..."

 "I know" Sighing and looking back at her.

 "Go" Her soft voice flooded my ears "Go after him and see if he's okay, see where he's going".

 "But the shop-" "It's not very busy right now I can manage, beside Nali and Haewon will be here soon. " Seoyeon grinned before nodding at me.

 Giving her a thankful look and smile I headed for the back door to go follow Jimin, surely, he couldn't have gotten too far.

 I jogged down the alleyway from the café before making it to a turn, remembering which way Jimin went I took the correct turn before speeding up again.

              Left

 Right

 Right

 Left

 Right

 Left

 Straight

 Left

 Straight

 My legs were burning from the excessive running and walking.

 Geez I need to work out more.

 Stopping to get a breath I looked ahead of me an intersection of different alleyways, slowly walking up it, I looked down the left seeing it led to a single right turn, I could hear cars, so it probably led to a road. Straight ahead seemed to also lead to a road after a turn. I rotated to my left to see a dead end, but it had some random boxes and bins around. It even had a few pare pieces of furniture around that had obviously been abandoned by its owner. Something felt off, it gave me a weird feeling and this alley it was way too quiet, I pressed forwards despite the unsettling feeling in my stomach.

 As I got further in the alley, I could see things had been thrown about, raggedy, ripped, dirty clothes littered the abandoned couch and surrounding floor. One end of the couch had a jumper stuffed with other clothes and tied at the end almost like a pillow.

 It was almost as if someone was living here... Something caught the corner of my eye as I turned to look what I saw shocked me.

 Poking out from underneath a mattress that was standing upright leaning in the wall was thick, long, black tail. "What the..." I stepped closer to it, but it flicked away and hid itself behind the mattress. jumping back a glanced around the rest of the dead-end alley. turning away from the mattress and back to the couch I noticed some of the clothes that were littering the lounge had shifted. Panic flooded through my brain as I slowly started to back away from both the mattress and couch.

 "I need to leave..." I mumbled backing up to where I had thought the entrance was only to back into a hard structure obscuring my clear path out.

 A wall.

 Trying to calm myself down I relax my shoulders, my breathing perfectly in sync with the wall behind me, the matching movement helped calm me down, lowering my heartbeat, but only until I realized.

 Wait... walls don't breathe...

             A/n: It's here! It took me awhile as I wanted to get the first few chapters written before publishing any, I hope you all enjoy this series as much I have enjoyed writing it so far. Why is this wall breathing?! (Part of the crew, part of the ship 👀 ) Have a nice day & Thankyou all for reading! 💜

[middleearthpixie]

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

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