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babygirl-riley · 1 year ago

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Daddy’s Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird

When coming home Simon hears his daughter start to fuss.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood trauma, fluff, swearing, Dad!Simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon was fucking tired, the mission was long and difficult. It took them 4 months to plan the fucker just for the target to know their every move. He lost lots of men and women those nights, they had to camp somewhere in the middle of the desert cause transportation got fucked.

He unlocked the door of his home and walked in. Immediately he heard the whimpering. Simon heard you trying to lullaby both of your toddler. Simon was told that she has been sick for almost 4 days. It was teething that led to two ear infections. His poor angel was getting her ass jumped left and right with them infections.

He took his mask and boots off leaving them on the shelf near the door. He locked the door as he made his way through the hallway. When getting closer he heard you sniffling. “I don’t know what to do baby girl,” The toddler cried harder as you cried with her. “I am sorry. What do you need baby?”

Simon tapped the door making you jump. At first you thought you were going to fight but then relief came through. “Simon,” You started to sob. “Just take a shower and I will be there in minute.”

“I can take her.” He said walking fully in.

“No,” You wiped your tears quickly before shaking your head. “It’s fine you just got home. Please just take a shower love.”

Simon nodded, he didn’t want to but he could tell if he didn’t you would burst. He saw the dark circles under your eyes, how red your eyes were. You haven’t gotten any sleep. That tugged at his best strings, you have been dealing with this all by yourself so he wants to be able to help you.

Simon quickly got into the shower, washing all the paint, blood, sweat, and dirt from him. He waited for a moment before turning the faucet off and get out. He heard your sobs once more as he wrapped the towel around himself. Opening the door that showed you laying on your side curled up. Simon walked up to you and sat next to your body. He placed a hand on your hip rubbing circles.

“Not the best welcome home,” You sighed turning to face him. “Im sorry.”

“For what love? Taking care of our child? Don’t ever apologize for that.” He reassured, basically whispering.

“Just me crying and Im so fucking tried. She doesn’t sleep nothing longer than maybe 5 minutes before she is screaming. And I wanted to give you a warmer welcome and instead buzzed you off and…”

“Thats enough sweethear’ it has been a long week for you,” He got up to grab sweatpants and went around to his side to pull the blankets up and over him. You watched as he laid and scooted closer to you wrapping his arm around you. “Come ‘ere, get some sleep my dove.”

He doesn’t remember when you fell asleep or even him. Simon heard the soft whimpers start, you didn’t move and he was glad that you didn’t. He was also very happy that you moved out of his grasp while in your sleep. Simon carefully and quietly headed out of the room. Rubbing his tired eyes as he made it to his daughter’s room.

When he approached the room there she was. Standing up in her crib crying, once her eyes landed on his she cried harder. “Daddy.” She called a couple of times.

“Alright princess, you’re alright daddy’s here.” He said picking her up.

It took him a back of how hot she is, sweat gripping her pjs. Her crying increasing as she gripped onto his shoulder. “Shhh I know,” He said bouncing up and down. “I know baby.”

He felt her diaper and walked to the changing table, which to her was a sin. When he placed her down she screamed a bit, immediately he gently placed a palm on her chest. Putting small pressure. She stopped screaming as she still cried. His daughter loved when he did that when she wanted to be cuddled yet when he had to do certain things like this.

Because of how many times he has done this with her, he one handed did the diaper. He left her only in her diaper, get some air to her skin due to sweating and her being hot. As she still cried, he picked her up and lead out of the room walking to the kitchen. “Let’s try a warm bottle and me a tea yeah?” He said quietly, holding her close as she still cried.

While working on the bottle he rocked back and forth waiting for the teapot to heat up. He wrapped both of his arms around her holding her more close. “I’m ‘orry my birdie, teeth are arseholes. I know.”

She held around his neck placing her head down on his shoulder. Simon kept holding on until the smallest noise came from the pot. He didn’t want to wake you, he was even surprised you haven’t woke up yet. His daughter became more whimpering than crying.

He poured his mug first so the water could cool down just a bit more. Then poured water into her bottle. He made his tea before finish making her bottle. Afterward he walked to the living room and placed the tv on. Miss Rachel was her favorite to watch lately, that’s what you mentioned.

He placed her forward towards the tv as he placed his mug on the side table. Simon held her close to him as she drank her bottle. Rubbing her belly as he watched the show with her. He hated this woman, just found her annoying, you mentioned to him that it was her job to do that fake high pitch thing. To him it just made him want to mute it and never see it again.

His daughter leaned closer to him as he sipped his tea. She sniffled and hiccuped due to crying the whole time. He smoothed her thick blonde hair back, making her eyes roll. Another thing she gets from him. People massaging his scalp or play with his hair he would pass out from.

After three videos both Simon and her were laying on the couch. He had her on his chest with a blanket on both of them. “Shh I know,” He said as she started to whimper again. “Daddy is here, don’t worry. He will stay. I would do anythin’ for you not to be in this pain.”

She sucked on her binki her eyes rolling fighting sleep. Yet another thing she got from him. Fighting sleep. Simon remembered when you told him you were pregnant with her. He was terrified. Scared that he wouldn’t be good to her, that he would turn into his own father.

Simon actually left for hours from the house making you think that it was a bad idea to tell him. Until he came back in tears, first time you seen him break down. Telling you his fears and worries. You would comfort him and hold him that he has never been an ounce of his father. Never be like him.

Simon remembered when he asked for his dad to hold him. His dad told him to stop being a child, to grow up. Or even watch him cry in pain and laugh at the fact he was crying. He even remember Tommy being hit for even mentioning that his throat hurt. Telling him that is something to be crying about when he was hurt.

Because of those memories he was going on for months in his mind that he didn’t believed that, didn’t believe that he would be a good father, it wasn’t until she was born. When he held her in his big hands. He knew that this was the opportunity to not be his low life father. And yet here he was being not that, his father would have never been comforting him when he was sick. Holding him. Loving him. He was grateful to be able to be here for her. For you. To show the love and care that he wanted to.

Simon sighed as he felt her breathing slow down, falling into deep sleep. He settled more down into the couch as he closed his eyes, holding on to his princess.

You woke up with the sun beaming into the room. You groaned as you placed a hand to where Simon would have been. It was cold. You opened your eyes and frowned. Was a dream that he was home? You sighed getting up and heading to your daughter’s room. For it to be empty too.

You walked around the house figuring out where the hell was your daughter. Which when you heard Miss Rachel on the tv and two figures on the couch. It made your heart swell. You walked to around to face both your daughter clinging onto her father. Simon softly snoring and his daughter as well. You forget how similar they look.

The soft features of when they slept. Their hair. Their nose. You also noticed that she was just in her diaper and didn’t look sweaty. You inhaled deeply feeling a bit of relief. Hopefully that means that her temperature went down and back to normal.

You smiled thinking about the time where you were almost about to pop. Simon holding your tummy telling your daughter that he will protect her with every ounce of his being. Not matter where or what she is doing, he will be there. You would play with his hair as he rubbed your tummy, feeling her move every time he would place a hand on your tummy.

You grabbed both bottle and mug, walking back to the kitchen. “Definitely going to be a daddy’s girl.” You whispered, starting to make breakfast for your perfect family.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #daddy!simon #dad!simon

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hrtsdevils · 11 months ago

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dog-eared. | jh86

summary reader and jack broke up before he was drafted to the nhl. after years of watching from afar, jack finally sees y/n in person. past feelings are brought up to the surface.

pairing jack hughes x fem!reader

wc 2.6k

an my lovers… also another gracie fc sorry idk what to tell you! also for the sake of the plot pretend that the devils play the ducks on tuesday instead of vancouver thanks!!! loosely based off of everywhere everything by noah kahan ft gracie abrams

It had been years since you’d seen Jack. You broke up right before he started his NHL career as it seemed like your plans didn’t align. You’d be going to college in California, as USC had been your dream school your whole life. You dreamed of living somewhere where it was sunny and it was never freezing, unlike the weather in your hometown of Toronto. He dreamed of making it big in the professional league, which he was so close to achieving already.

The breakup between you two was mostly mutual. It happened in your 2005 Honda Civic, in the parking lot of a gas station after you had gone to buy soft drinks. The two of you could feel the breakup impending, and it felt as if the weather channel told you a meteor would be hitting Earth within minutes. As if the sun was about to collapse. The silence was deafening as you started your car, putting your drink in the cup holder. He followed suit.

“I..” He started before you cut him off.

“You think we need to break up?” You asked, giving him a soft smile. It wasn’t genuine, it was quite the opposite. You just didn’t want him to feel guilty, you thought it was the right thing as well.

He nodded softly, “I just think we’re on two separate paths… you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Your hands tensed under your thighs, as you were using them as hand warmers. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buttons.” That had been his nickname for you since the 8th grade. You had a perfect little button nose, and it quickly caught on and everybody would use it for you as well.

The drive back to his parents’ house was in silence, as neither of you had much to say to each other. In about ten minutes, you were parked in front of his house. “You’re still going to come to my birthday party, right?” You asked. You were turning eighteen in a few weeks, June 7th.

“Yeah, I will.” He smiled sadly, “It’s not over. We’re just separating until we get brought back together.”

You huffed, “When’s that? Whenever fate decides?”

“Precisely. Call it a dog ear.. you like to read, right?”

“Yeah, I would never doggy ear my books though.” You giggled, “Bye, Jacky.”

That was the last you talked formally. He never did come to your party, texting you an excuse about how he had a training camp that day. You didn’t believe it, but you never said anything about it. It had been years, you watched him succeed from your dorm room and then to your small apartment couch. Your roommates never understood your love for the sport, but you always attributed it to being from up north.

That was a reason, but not the only one.

Every year you anticipated the Devils coming down to Anaheim to play the Ducks. That was practically the only time you watched Jack in person. You were particularly excited this year, as his little brother Luke would be playing too. You adored Luke, he was so sweet and well-mannered, especially to you. Trevor would also be there. He wouldn’t be playing as he was injured, but you’d caught him after a few games to catch up and he was your little piece of Michigan in California.

It was a Friday game, which met that the tickets were slightly higher and there were fewer of them. You finally got your good friend, Cecilia, to agree to go with you. She was familiar with your love of hockey, and she knew you went to a lot of games. She didn’t know you knew two players on the ice, and two players up in the press box. As you were buying your tickets with her, you got a text from Trevor.

trevor zegras 🐣 : hey buttons r u coming to the game? idk cause jacks playing

You hastily replied, trying to shield your phone from Cece in the most subtle way possible.

y/n buttons : yeahhhh i was jst about to buy my tickets bahaha

trevor zegras 🐣 : don’t buy them ❌❌ i have a club ticket right above the benches if u want it

y/n buttons : usually yes i’d love to but i’m bringing my friend cece

trevor zegras 🐣 : i have 2! i’ll send em to u later

y/n buttons : thanks trev i appreciate u ☺️

You put your phone down and closed your laptop. Cece was a couple feet away on hers, but looked at you when your laptop snapped shut. “Did you buy them?” She questioned, scooting closer to you. You shook your head.

“Kind of? Well, one of my friends is on the team and he’s injured, he offered us seats right behind the bench.”

Her jaw fell slightly, “You never told me you had connections!”

You smiled, “I don’t really, I usually buy my tickets. This was a first time thing, I think he might be drunk.” You tried to explain it in the least suspicious way possible. You didn’t want to seem boastful, but an explaination had to come from somewhere.

You two discussed the arrangements for a couple minutes longer. From outfits to hair to transportation, you were more excited for this game than you had been for any others. Maybe it was because it was Jack’s team, or maybe it was because someone finally seemed to share your admiration for the sport.

Who knows, it was probably the latter.

The day came quick, as it was only a day or two out from your initial conversation. The tickets usually dropped in price right before the game, but luckily you didn’t have to spend the money on it regardless. You lended Cece a Zegras jersey that he got you, while you chose to wear an unnamed 30th anniversary jersey. You still had a few hoodies with Jack’s last name on the back, from his time with USNDTP, but you wouldn’t be wearing those tonight.

You arrived shortly before warm-ups, but when you looked at your section and seat numbers you realized Trevor wasn’t lying about you being right behind the bench. He just never mentioned that it was the away bench. You watched from your seat as the boys entered from the tunnel. They weren’t facing you, but you watched to make sure they didn’t turn around at least not now.

You managed to go a little while without being seen by Luke or Jack, that was until Cecelia got extremely into the game. The Devils had a goal in the late first period, opening up the scoring. Luke was sitting on the bench about a foot to the left of Cece, and once they scored she started banging on the glass.

As he stood up to cheer, he turned around due to the banging. The first thing he did was make eye contact with you. His eyebrows raised, and he blinked as if you’d disappear when his eyes opened. He didn’t say anything as you tried to avoid his gaze, and simply turned back around.

The game continued on, and you didn’t see him say anything to Jack. Soon enough, it was intermission and you felt safer. Like eyes weren’t on you anymore, even though they never were. It went by fairly quickly as the two of you watched the silly halftime games that usually were played by young children. As soon as the Devils came back through the tunnel, Jack turned around and looked at you. He kept sneaking glances as they warmed up again before the start of the second.

The rest of the game wasn’t as fun, as the brunette kept staring at you. As if you couldn’t go to hockey games, his hockey games. As if he couldn’t help looking at you. As if he missed you.

It didn’t help that Cece kept shouting at you, telling you that the cute one kept staring at you and that he wanted you. You knew her best interest was at heart, but she had no idea the magnitude of your situation with said cute one. You entertained her teasing of you, and how she kept pointing at you everytime Jack glanced your way.

By the end of the game you were over it. You wanted to escape and go home before the off chance that you ran into Jack actually happened. It was relieving when you got into the car, but startling when your phone lit up with a single message from Jack. Cece was giggling to herself, looking up one of the cute guys she saw on Instagram. She was oblivious to the situation

jack hughes : hi why were u there

You tried to think of an excuse, but eventually you realized it wouldn’t matter if you told the truth or not.

buttons 🩷 : because i was given tix my trevor.. and i go to a lot of ducks games

jack hughes : oh no other reason?

buttons 🩷 : u think i went for u?

jack hughes : maybe a little. sorry for bothering u buttons.

buttons 🩷 : don’t be sorry. how long are you in anaheim?

jack hughes : tonight n then flying up to seattle

buttons 🩷 : where r u staying?

It was a twenty minute drive back up to your apartment, but with your speeding it was around seventeen. Cece didn’t question your urgency as you dropped her off at your shared apartment, and left immediately after. She was a little bit tipsy. As you drove to the Marriott in Anaheim, you thought about what you were doing.

Throwing away years of peace for the same boy who disrupted it all those years ago. If you started to have feelings for him again, who knows how much you life could be uprooted? Everything could be ruined. All the progress and the getting over Jack. Your Jack. You knew you were risking your own personal journey by going to see him, but at this point you didn’t care.

The hotel receptionist was reluctant to let you up, as she knew who was staying there. The skepticism on her face was present from the very moment you walked in.

“Look, I know him and I know his room number, so can you just let me go up?” You pleaded with hed. Going to a room usually wasn’t necessarily an issue, the issue here was that a sports team was staying. She might’ve thought you were a crazy stalker fan.

As she was about to answer, Jack exited the elevator and spotted you talking to the receptionist. “She’s with me.” He told her, as he walked up to the desk. “Thanks, though.” You had texted him a minute prior about the receptionist, but you didn’t expect him to rush down.

“Hi.” You breathed as you made your way toward the elevator, “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good.” He stopped before the elevator, “Would you rather go for a drive? I’m sharing a room with Luke.”

Your story paused in a car, so you were unsure how this would turn out. Maybe it will be different this time. “Sure.” You replied softly.

You two walked to your car in silence. You were about to get in the driver’s seat, but he insisted on driving. “You should drive slow around here, there’s a bunch of cops at night because of drunk college students.” You chuckled, “I’ll tell you when you can speed.”

You buckled up, and he started your car. It was an upgrade from your Honda, being a more recent model of a Nissan. “So, why’d you come to the game?” He asked as he pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“I go to a lot of Duck’s games. Trevor plays, of course I go watch him.” You started, “He offered me club tickets, and I figured they were behind his bench. They weren’t, obviously.”

“So you didn’t go for me?” He questioned once again, “I don’t believe that, Buttons.”

You rolled your eyes, “I kind of did. I’ve been while you were playing for the last three years, but I still like hockey in general.”

“I’ll believe that.” The silence sat for a little while as he drove 25 down the city roads, the radio wasn’t even playing. “Do you think we could’ve done long distance?”

You shook your head, “No, not then at least. That’s why we broke it off. Maybe now.” You said the last part quieter, just enough so that if he wasn’t paying attention he wouldn’t have heard it.

But of course he was paying attention. You were his everything before, and possibly even now.

“Now?” He questioned, “What do you mean by that?”

“When we broke up, you said our page was dog-eared. Bookmarked. It was more like a pause until we were ready and mature, or at least that’s how I took it.”

He smiled, “I remember that. Do you think we’re ready and mature?”

You shrugged, looking at him. “Maybe, just this semester and then I’m done. I chose to graduate a semester early. I could move back east, we could be closer. Even without I think we’d be mature enough for long distance.”

The chances of this moment happening just weeks before you graduated was an alignment of the stars in itself. This could be everything you wanted, without disrupting your peace.

“If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me and Luke.” He offered, “To get on your feet, if you come back.”

“Maybe.” You hummed. His hand was resting on the gear shift, even though it was an automatic. You made a move to lay your hand on top of his, squeezing it gently.

It was a soft step in the right direction. A step to getting the love of your life back, which is what you’d wanted since the minute you broke it off. It’s been a long three years without him, he was your best friend and you intended to make up for the lost time soon enough. You wouldn’t bring up how he never contacted you either, because it was far in the past. You were both kids at the time and you can’t hold a grudge about that.

As he re-entered the hotel parking lot, you smiled at him. Your hands were now intertwined on top of the cup holder region, and you never wanted to let go. His hand was more rugged than before, matured and weathered, but it was still a comfort you had missed. He dropped it to shift the car into park.

“So, I’ll see you soon then?” He asked, as you got ready to get out. 45 minutes had passed between getting into the car and now. You conversed about your current life and your future. Your future together.

You nodded, “Yeah, hopefully. Keep in touch, okay? No ghosting me.” You stepped out of the car and walked around to the driver's side as he got out as well.

The two of you shared a hug, but exchanged little words. You could hear the cars around you, and the sounds of the city were still alive. “Bye, Jack.” You released him from your embrace.

“Bye, Buttons.” He smiled, “I’ll text you.” He turned around and walked back to the hotel as you watched, a smile gracing your features as well.

You’d love him forever, whether you got back together or not. You believed he felt the same. You were glad that Trevor had known about the seating on the tickets, and made sure they got to you. You were also glad Luke saw and recognized you. You were excited to see him. The end was over, and the new start was just beginning.

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 2 years ago

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So, I don't know where the hell this came from but I did something.

TW: NSFW content, Friends with benefits, Unstablished relationship, Vaginal penetration

Needy, needy boys.

He's always been taken for a playboy. He comes over in the middle of the night, gets what he wants and then you'll never hear of him...

...until he's in the mood again. Then he comes back with a straight face like nothing happened, everything's fine and he's not treating you like some kind of doll he only plays with whenever he feels like it. And you're stupid, so fucking stupid as your arms are always open, welcoming him into your little corner of solitude.

But after a while, something happens. His smiles are more genuine, his embrace feels warmer than before and most importantly, when you wake up in the morning he's there, already up, staring at your face with a somewhat unknown look.

Then he's gone again. His absence lasts longer than usual. You don't know if you should text him. Would you come off as clingy? This is probably a bad idea. If he wanted to hear from you he would have at least given you a ring. Are you done? Is he abandoning you for someone else? Someone prettier, with bigger eyes and a smaller waist... Doubts and insecurities fill your head, days turn Into months, hope gets lost in your sleepless nights until that night, that one night that makes you feel everything and nothing at the same time.

After receiving that one text "I'm outside", you run to the door to see if you aren't dreaming and this isn't just a figment of your imagination, and there he is, standing in front of you, looking all different. Good different or bad? You can't really tell, and you know what? You don't feel like putting much thought to it either.

He slams his lips onto yours, your clothes are taken, torn apart laying on the floor, you somehow find your way into the shower, the cold water makes you gasp and cling onto him even more. You're soaked under the water but you don't feel clean, body tainted with lust and desire.

Things are happening fast but it's not the same anymore. There's no mind games this time cause he's so needy and been dying out of starvation. Instead of his teeth sinking in your skin it's his kisses, penetrating your flesh, your blood, your soul. He's kissing your soul and you're holding him with a deathly grip, never having enough. Nobody talks. It's just meaningless sinful sounds and kisses, kisses, kisses. He's so needily passionate and it's beautiful; making you feel whole, significant. His lips trap your bottom one and suck it in. He's breathing loudly, you've been kissing for quite a while now but every time you try to part he doesn't let you. It's like he wants to die, drown in your kisses, or perhaps he finds them more addicting than oxygen.

It won't be long till you feel your release approaching and he feels it just as precisely as you, you've literally become one now and he knows your body like the back of his hand. He puts his skills into use and thrusts rapidly, taking his frustration out on your cunt and you're fine with it. He's been deeper than this before but it's never felt this intimate. All his actions are rushed and you know he's not going somewhere; he's just suddenly so needy and you adore it already.

You're shaking, he's shaking and with another thrust, you're gone. Your body is still caged in his strong arms, but your soul has fallen into the land of euphoria. Everything feels numb, the water that's now marking your skin red, the pain in your back, your chest, your heart. It's just him, him and you're in love, glad that he's in love too. You scream as he keeps thrusting through your orgasm and he moans in your mouth, loudly. It's needy, so needy, but so stunning that you can't complain.

When you come down from your high, he finally parts away. You're both panting and desperate for air but there's something miraculously. You look at each other and he's eyes are talking, it's proof that he wants, you needs you, can't get by without you. Looking at this messed up man under the cruel whips of hot water, you find yourself in love. Ah what a beautiful feeling it is, to be able to love and to feel loved. He's with you now, you won't be waiting for him anymore, he'll always be here, that's what you're thinking.

But the next morning he's gone, and this time for good; because you made him feel something,

That he doesn't deserve you.

DAZAI, Ranpo, NIKOLAI, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI, Kuroo, SUNA, Osamu, Shinazugawa, UZUI, GOJO, Fushiguro, Geto, EREN, MELLO, Vanitas

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sebastianswallows · 6 months ago

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The Little Death — 9. Hidden judgment

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: none, just a fluffy scene of reader painting Feyd's teeth black 🖤

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

Do not be quick to reveal judgment. Hidden judgment often is more potent.

— Bene Gesserit Advice to Postulants

She was woken up during the night once or twice. The first time it was because she felt a sudden shift, a rather unusual feeling until she remembered Feyd was fast asleep beside her. He’d turned and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She couldn’t be awake for more than a minute before she fell asleep again. It all felt like a dream.

The second time, he woke her quite deliberately. He’d slid even closer and was kissing her shoulder, dragging his plush lips across her skin.

“Mmm… not now,” she muttered, turning her head away without even opening her eyes.

“Hmmm?” he asked in his rough voice.

“I’m sore,” she sighed.

He stopped and lifted his lips from her neck, and what he said next amazed her.

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

And just like that, like an embarrassed child, he fell back to his side of the bed and curled around her.

When she awoke in the morning she felt quite alone. She sensed nobody by her side before she opened her eyes, but a delicate sound came from somewhere to the left where the window was. Slowly, she peeked an eye open and saw the pale expanse of Feyd’s naked back. He was hunched over something and judging by the soft lines on his skin he’d gotten up not long before. The bed beside her was still warm. She stretched her limbs quietly and listened to him cursing in Harkonnen, his tone guttural and low and oddly childish.

When she moved to sit up on the bed he heard her and turned around halfway, smiling when he saw her. She didn’t know how to react, mainly because she was still nervous around him — but also because there was something different about his smile today. His teeth… They weren’t black anymore but instead were painted a milky grey. She could just about see the hint of white beneath.

“Morning,” he said, and then as if remembering himself immediately closed his lips to hide his half-painted teeth. “Are you, ahem, do you feel alright?”

“Well enough,” she shrugged, pulling the sheet around her body.

He got up and put down what he’d been holding on the windowsill — a round mirror and a paintbrush — and walked over to her. When she recoiled at his approach his steps stuttered, but not for long. With a measure of control over his feelings that she could only respect, Feyd put aside his quiet rejection and approached her anyway, sitting down beside her.

“I enjoyed you, you know,” he said quietly as he leaned forward to nuzzle at her neck. “And I think you did too.”

She stiffened but didn’t deny it.

“Still think I was a brute, don’t you?” he asked.

“Well, yes. You were.”

He pulled away and his full lips curled into a boyish smile. “Then you’ll have to teach me gentler ways of punishment. Because I intend to enjoy you a whole lot more.”

“I will be sure to heed your advice, then, na-Baron.”

Feyd didn’t seem to mind the coldness of her tone. He looked at her more fondly than anyone had done before, which frightened her. Did he view torments like that as an expression of love?! she wondered. It would explain a lot…

“But you felt good in the end,” he said, reaching up to cup her cheek before she could withdraw. His hand was warmer than she expected. “And in the middle of it too, if I recall.”

As she looked up at him she found herself starting to smile, then grin, then giggle. At first, it delighted Feyd, but then he frowned when it went on for longer than it should.

“What is it?”

She leaned forward to catch his chin between her fingers and asked, “What have you done with your teeth?”

His uneasy smile turned into a grimace and as if burned he pulled away, covering his mouth as demurely as a maiden.

“I haven’t finished.”

“Finished what?”

“Painting them, of course. It wears off after a while… In fact, it’s your fault.”

“Mine?” she asked with a cocked brow.

He cupped the back of her head to pull her closer and breathed against her blushing cheek. “Yes, yours. If you look below the waist this morning, you’ll see why.”

“That’s not my —”

He shut her up with a kiss that ended all too briefly. She shoved him off of her.

“No, I think I’ve had enough of your ink,” she muttered angrily.

“Fine,” he said with a jilted pout, then turned away from her and walked back to the window.

She took the time to gather her senses and do a brief bodily check in her mind. She was bruised in the most unlikely and inconvenient of places and scratched a little too, but the worst of it would heal in two days if left undisturbed. Gingerly, she slid out of bed and pulled a robe toward her from where it had been thrown on the far side of the bed. Her dress, she realised with a hot flush, was still in the dining room, and it was in tatters anyway. She looked at Feyd with his back turned to her and glared as memories of yesterday came back — together with the aches, the hunger, the pleasure, the shame. And then he started laughing.

“I can see you, you know,” he said, staring into his mirror.

She quickly turned away. “Why do you do that?”

“Because I like you,” he said without pause.

“No! I mean —”

“Oh, my teeth?” he asked, lips stretched in a grin as he looked at his reflection, paintbrush poised in hand. “Because they look better that way.”

“What, as a black void?” she scoffed.

He turned to arch a brow at her as if she was just being silly. “It’s elegant.”

She remained unconvinced and rolled her eyes, but got up off the bed anyway and approached him.

Coming to him from behind while he was distracted would have given her the perfect chance… There were vulnerable places at the nape of the neck that could immobilise and kill, and she knew all of them. One didn’t need much strength to activate one fatal pressure point. But somehow the thought didn’t take root in her, and the very idea of doing away with her new master was unconvincing. Is it because, in making him believe that I’m his Bene Gesserit, I’ve managed to fool myself? she thought. No, that can’t be it.

“Let me help you,” she said as she stepped in front of him.

Feyd’s eyes traversed her shape, trying to pierce through the diaphanous black to the tender skin beneath. He seemed intrigued.

“You know how?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she sat down on the stone of the windowsill and took the brush from his hand. It was as thin as a quill and tipped with soft dense hairs of an organic nature, likely animal. In front of Feyd, beside her, were two small bottles: one tall and thin with a transparent liquid that smelled of alcohol, the other a container with a dense black paste. She could immediately guess the way this worked. She took the mirror out of his hand and gently gripped his jaw. He flashed his teeth at her. He’d gotten a good start but they were all grey and uneven, blacker around the gums than at the tips.

“I do know how,” she finally replied.

She took the thinner bottle and poured a few drops onto the paste. The reaction was instant, it liquefied into a shiny puddle at the centre in which she could dip the brush and coat it. She would have to be quick in applying it to his teeth before it dried.

“Open,” she said. “Wider.”

Feyd grinned obediently, his cold eyes looking up at her with something of an amused crinkle to them. She braced her hand against his chin and, as if writing the softest of calligraphies, began to coat his first incisor black. It took applying the ink several times before she could no longer see the white beneath, and she found herself surprised in the process by how straight and clean his teeth were. Perhaps the coating also served as a protection of sorts… She wondered what he would’ve looked like without it. What his smile would’ve looked like.

“You’re getting distracted,” he muttered. “And you’re leaning forward too much. Not that I mind.”

Before she could answer he’d grabbed her hips and pulled her to his lap. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor and easily found a way to arrange her with her knees bent around his hips.

“You’re blocking the light from the window too,” he said, speaking now more quietly. “Here. Sit on this side.”

He lifted her gently by the hips and settled her onto his left thigh, then his hands remained there. It rattled her a bit to feel only the leather of his trousers underneath her naked skin but Feyd looked at her calmly, patiently even.

“Well, go on,” he said. “You were making progress, weren’t you?”

She nodded and reached back for the ink again while Feyd picked up the mirror and held it at a distance in front of himself, watching her work. It was a small thing that fit into his palm, perfectly round with smooth edges. There was something metallic about it as if it were just a polished blade rather than a mirror. She dipped the fine brush into the paint again, and his smile relaxed.

His arm stayed curled around her waist, supporting her as much as holding her there, but she had no intention of leaving. She had willingly come to him, after all. And soon, she let herself lay closer to him, her other arm braced on his shoulder. She was close enough to kiss, and although she avoided his gaze, Feyd’s eyes soon stopped following her work in the mirror and were fixed upon her face.

“You s—”

“Don’t speak,” she said, bending back to dip the brush into fresh ink. “It isn’t dry yet.”

“You smell lovely.”

“Thank you. Now hold still.”

They fell into a rhythm together in the quiet of the morning with her leaning forward and back, bending left and right to reach the most difficult places. He was like a tamed animal beneath her, frightful and dangerous but docile under the right hands. She hadn’t had the chance to feel his body very much last night, but now she became keenly aware of the muscles in his thighs, the firmness of his chest and stomach, how round his shoulders were, and the sharp chemical flavour of his unwashed sweat. His warmth sank into her from underneath and his quiet breath tickled her palm. By the time they were finished she was shaking, and his mouth was a black void again.

“There,” she whispered, pressing his jaw closed.

He smiled for her, then looked once more into the mirror. There was admiration in his eyes.

“Not bad… For a beginner.”

“You should learn to express gratitude more earnestly,” she smirked.

“Oh?” he chuckled. “Teach me, then.”

And before she knew it his arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her even closer and his face was nuzzled in her neck.

“No, no,” she muttered, pushing him away. “I’m hungry…”

He sighed as he leaned back and looked at her with longing, holding her so tightly she thought he would never let her go.

“I didn’t have dinner yesterday,” she said. “Remember?”

“Only too well,” he purred, leaning into to steal a little kiss. “But fine… We can eat. Together.”

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath #I tried to fix the tagging and I only made it worse so I stopped #damn it tumblr

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hughes86-43 · 8 months ago

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Walk in the Park | L.Hughes

warnings - none, at least I don’t think!

summary - a slow morning with Luke, brings you both to the park.

The sun is streaming in through the curtains in your bedroom when you awake. Slowly opening your eyes, you see that Luke is still sleeping. He has his arm wrapped loosely around your waist, and you have your leg thrown over his. You admire his stunning features before slowly turning out of his grasp and making your way to the bathroom. You wash your face, brush your teeth, and throw your hair into a braid and return back to the bedroom. In the bedroom, you see that Luke has woken up and is scrolling on his phone.

He looks up at you, standing in your cute pajama shorts and one of his infamous hoodies, which he adores and says, “hi, baby.”

“Hi Lukey,” You say as you join him back under the covers. He opens his arms for you to cuddle up next to him again and you put your head on his chest. He instantly starts playing with your hair. You guys never get mornings like this through the season, but you both had the day off so you both wanted to treasure it.

Rubbing your hand up and down his bare chest, “I love getting to spend time in bed with you and neither of us having to rush out of it to get somewhere.”

“I love it too, but I also love you,” he says kissing your head.

“Oh that was so cheesy,” you say laughing, “but I love you too.”

After a few moments of watching various videos on his phone together, you decide it should be time to get up and get some food. “I’m hungry, let’s go find some food.”

“I agree, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick and how about you head into the kitchen and grab some ingredients for pancakes,” he says standing up from the bed and looking for a shirt that he had thrown off last night but had no luck. You lay there for minute longer so you could look at your boyfriend as he walks into the bathroom in just his boxers.

Once you get all the ingredients together, Luke walks in, now dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. Walking to the fridge to get the orange juice ready, he says, “What do you want to do today?”

Looking up from the pancake box, shrugging you say, “I want to mostly just chill on the couch with you, but I wouldn’t be opposed to going on a walk in the park later, if you’re okay with that.”

“That’s sounds good to me baby, we can go after we eat.” You nod with a smile and begin cooking the pancakes.

While you cook the pancakes, Luke makes the coffee for you both while making sure to use your favorite creamer and making sure to put whip cream on top. Then he grabs the plates down from the cabinet and grabs the syrup.

“I hope I didn’t burn these too bad, pancakes are always a hit or miss,” You say concentrating on making the pancakes perfect.

“Don’t worry I’ll eat them no matter what,” Luke says coming around to where you’re standing and puts his hands on your hips, “I think they look good love.”

After deciding you had made enough pancakes, you put them on the plates laid out and drizzle syrup over them. Taking your plate and coffee, you make your way to the kitchen table with Luke trailing behind you.

“Thank you for making my coffee, you did it perfectly.”

“Of course, baby, thank you for the pancakes, they’re perfect.” Luke tastes a big bite of his pancakes and practically moans over how good it is. You just shake your head and laugh and finish eating your pancakes.

Once all the dishes are in the sink, deciding you’ll do them later, you make your way back into the kitchen table to sit by Luke. “You ready to go on a walk? I think it’s a bit warmer than it has been, but I would still bundle up some,” He says while looking at the weather app on his phone.

“Now should be a good time, I’ll just need a few minutes to change my clothes.”

Deciding to wear an old Michigan hoodie, some black leggings, and your tennis shoes, you make your way back into the living room to where your boyfriend is. “I’m all ready! Let me just grab my belt bag!” You say but not without spinning around and showing your outfit off to your boyfriend like you always do.

“Looking amazing as always, let me grab my wallet,” he gets up from the couch and grabs his wallet from the kitchen table, as well as the keys to the apartment.

After making sure all the lights were out and the stove was turned off (because there was the one time you accidentally left it on for four hours), you unlock the front door and walk out into the hallway of your apartment building. As you do, Luke doesn’t hesitate to playfully smack your butt as you walk out the door.

“Hey!”

“Sorry baby, but the leggings show off your body perfectly,” he says shrugging. What he didn’t notice when he said that was the sweet elderly lady that had walked out of her door at the same time you guys did and saw him smack your butt and heard what he said.

You give her a shy smile, and say, “So sorry about him, he never pays attention to see if people are around.” She just gives you a sweet smile, grabs her newspaper, and walks back into her apartment.

“Babe I love you and I love that you love my butt, but please look and see if others are around,” You say, trying to be stern, but you just can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“I’m sorry, but gotta make sure people know your mine,” he smiles, completely unphased by the situation.

“She’s an elderly woman! She won’t come after me! You’ve probably scarred her!” Finally reaching the elevator, you both walk in and press the button for the first floor.

Cuddling into his side, he laughs, “Well you never know.”

When the elevator has reached the first floor, you both walk out, smiling to the couple that was about to get into the elevator, and then smiling and waving to the building staff (that you both have made friends with since moving in).

Walking hand-in-hand, you reach the park. You both have made it a habit to try to get to the park together on days off or when either of you feel like it since it is so close to your apartment building and you both love it. You guys usually walk about the mile and half around the lake and then stop to look at the geese that like to hang out there.

“It’s so pretty out. I’m glad the weather let up since it’s been so rainy lately,” You say and Luke hums back as an agreement.

“At least the geese look calmer today and are not running after someone,” he says thinking back to when you guys went walking last time. There had been a man walking a couple feet ahead of you guys, and he was just trying to take pictures of the view, but the geese had another idea and chased that man for a good mile before giving up. Not wanting to get the geese to come and chase you guys, you had decided to turn back around and keep an eye on your backs incase they decided to come after you guys. You both had laughed about that for a good week. You just hoped the man had safely gotten away.

“I know right! I was walking the other day with my friend and we both kept our eyes out for them incase they came after us! I told her the story and she died laughing!”

Luke could listen to your laugh forever if he had the chance. Honestly, he was just so happy to enjoy this time with you, like he always does. Wanting to remember this moment, he decides to take some pictures. He stops abruptly, causing you to stumble a bit but he steadies you, you say, “What’s wrong? Oh no! Are they following us?” You start looking every way to see if the geese are coming after you guys.

“Haha, no. I just wanted to stop and take some pictures,” he grabs his phone out of his hoodie pocket, “Smile, I need some photos of you!”

Striking a pose, you give him a big smile as he takes a couple pictures of you. “You’re perfect, so beautiful,” he says admiring all the pictures he just took of you. “Now, let’s take a selfie.” Putting the phone in front of you both, he takes photos of you both either smiling, tongues out, or kissing his cheek.

Now it was your turn to get some photos of him, “Since you want to take so many pictures of me, it’s only fair I get some pictures of you!” As he gives you a smile, you take a couple photos of him.

“Okay, okay! I think that’s plenty of pictures for now!” He says coming over to you and pulling you into a hug and placing a kiss on your forehead. “You ready to make our way back home?”

“Yes, I’m getting a bit cold. I should’ve bundled up a bit more.”

He grabs your hand again, “Come on, once we get home, we can change back into our pajamas and lay on the couch. I was thinking we could watch that new baking competition show,” he suggests as he knows you love those baking shows.

“Anything is good with me as long as you’re there,” You say while looking up at him quickly.

Noticing you looking at him, he gives you a smile and puts his arm around you. Walking back through the park and through your apartment building and then into your apartment, you couldn’t be happier to have such an amazing boyfriend.

#luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #nhl imagines #imagines #my fics

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melodygatesauthor · 19 days ago

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Different

Shimmer Kane X f!Reader

Blurb 3 for Kinktober 2024 - Request by @steven-grants-world

NSFW below the cut - Period Sex/Blood Mentioned (nothing graphic) - Reader is not race coded

Words: 743

You were still getting adjusted to your new life with your…‘husband.’

To say things were awkward would be an understatement. Things were downright uncanny. He was very distant, often not even meeting your gaze. When he did look at you, sometimes it felt like he stared a little too intensely.

“What?” you asked him, furrowing your brow in concern. “Are you–”

“You smell different,” he commented, eyes raking over your body.

You felt like you were completely naked, despite having the blankets pulled up nearly to your chin. His hand cupped the swell of your breast beneath the covers, slowly moving down to rest on your lower abdomen. He hummed, rubbing his thumb over the small bit of exposed skin there.

“You feel warmer than usual,” he said quietly, pulling back the comforter.

“Kane, what are you–”

“You’re bleeding,” he mentioned as if it were an unusual occurrence. “Are you hurt?”

You sat up on your elbows and looked down between your legs, groaning and shaking your head,

“No,” you grumbled, for a second more concerned with the fact that your stark white sheets were ruined than with the fact that Kane didn’t know what a period was. “Damn it.”

Kane’s breathing became heavy, the smell of iron filling his nostrils and his arousal growing quickly. He tucked his finger in the waistband of your panties, pulling them off.

“Thanks, but I can take care of it. Why are you acting so weird?” You asked, swatting his hand away.

He pulled his hand back for a second, but then grabbed your arm, pinning it against the mattress as he inspected the space between your legs.

“It’s my period, Kane,” you said, a hint of irritation apparent in your tone. “Happens every month. Causes me to be moody and crampy? I bleed for a week? Ring a bell?”

Kane’s face was concentrated, as if he still didn't understand. His hand rested on your stomach again, and he closed his eyes.

“I can help,” he said after a few silent seconds.

He slid out of his pants, positioning himself between your legs. You put your hands on his chest in protest.

“Kane, that’s not going to help. It’s–”

He slid into your wet heat with a shaky breath, looking down at you with his mouth hung open. You felt it immediately, the relief spread over your whole body. You’d had sex on your period with Kane before, this wasn’t revolutionary, but it felt different. Something about him had changed so much since he’d come back from that expedition.

“Fuck,” you whispered, “oh that’s good.”

Kane knew it was good, he could feel it too. Whenever your bodies were connected he could feel what you needed. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew when he’d touched you that this would help. He rocked his hips at a steady pace, dragging his length against every inch of your fluttering walls.

“Is this helping?” he asked, breaths coming in short and shallow.

“Yes,” you cried out, “yes-Kane-fuck!”

Your words of encouragement spurred him on, making his thick cock twitch inside your hot core. He’d fucked you several times since coming back from the border, but he’d never felt you like this before. Your cunt was so soft, so warm. He squeezed your hip, leaning down to close his mouth over yours in a messy kiss.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, kissing you again.

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, hungrily sliding his tongue past your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands reaching up to grab onto his thrusting hips. You pulled back to let a breath pass between you both before he was kissing you more.

“Mm, Kane…Kane I’m gonna–fuck!”

Kane’s lips traced across your jawline to your ear.

“Come,” he said, his tone somewhere between begging and a demand.

You arched your back, feeling his cock reach the deepest parts of you before your mouth was hung open, moans filling the room with every wave of your orgasm. You held onto him like a lifeline, toes curling and body going numb for what felt like an eternity. Kane’s body seized, a searing hot gush spilling into your core as he filled you so full that his spend spilled out onto the bedding.

Once the fog in your minds cleared, and your combined heavy breaths slowed, you looked at him, kissing his nose.

“Thank you,” you whispered, sighing contentedly. “I feel so much better.”

Back to Kinktober Masterlist

#kane #kane annihilation #kane smut #kane annihilation smut #kane x f!reader #kane fanfiction #annihilation fanfiction #kinktober 2024 #melody does kinktober 2024

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b33zlebubz · 10 months ago

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RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER FIVE - adding fuel to the fire

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

There's a new guy whenever you walk up to the plane. You're never one for people, especially this early in the morning—and you dread conversation as you rub your sore eye and begrudgingly approach.

There wasn’t anything about him that immediately screamed good or bad. He was taller than Price and the aviator sunglasses he's wearing glint against the sun, his arms elbow deep in the engine of the small airplane you are likely about to board. He's in a thick coat despite the warm weather and his laugh was far too loud for your very sleep-deprived brain.

Nikolai. The pilot. Price had mentioned him off-handedly days ago.

You're not sure what to make of him, at first. He's talking with Price whenever you approach, a hand over your brow as you squint against the pink glow of the rising sun that beams over the busy runway. It's warmer out now, and you regret your choice of a hoodie as the sun reaches the dark fabric. Considering where you're going, though, you're pretty sure that won't be a problem for very long.

Price raises an eyebrow at the backpack of stuff and the new clothes on your back, and you pretend not to notice how you can see the gears turning in his head as you turn to the new person in the group. If he’s mad at the obvious evidence that you snuck out, he’s good at hiding it.

Nikolai beams as he sees you walk up and laughs as he ruffles the hair on your head and exclaims in a thick Russian accent: "Look at you, all grown up now! Haven't seen you since you were just a wee thing in Sparky's arms!"

That name again.

"Sparky?" you question, looking at Price as you bat away the hand on your head.

"Your dad," the captain clarifies, patting your arm. "Liked his fire, from what I hear."

"That's one way to put it," Nikolai adds, chuckling. "Your old man lit a whole cartel base aflame, once upon a time. Burned the whole thing to the ground. Was only a bit older than you when he did it, too."

The lighter from the shoebox in your room suddenly feels a bit heavier in your pocket, and you fidget with it as you're soon ushered onto the small plane. You shove your backpack up top and take a random seat on the end. Soap and Ghost follow after you, and the shorter sergeant visibly hesitates when Price holds a hand up, stopping him from sitting down in the seat directly behind the cockpit.

"Kid," he says, cocking his head at the seat. "You sit here."

Soap speaks up, "Aye—"

"Save it, Soap."

You can almost feel Soap's stare burning into the back of your neck as you hesitantly take what must be his usual seat. Ghost chuckles somewhere behind you as Soap strides further back into the plane instead to share a seat with him instead. After that, you watch Price duck out of the plane again for a few minutes, have a very animated talk with Gaz outside, before both him and the sergeant filter in as well.

Gaz sits down in the seat across the aisle from you, letting out a breath that sounds relieved as he lets his head fall back against the seat.

"Captain chew you out for helping me?"

His lips curl into something that is half-grimace, half-smile, "A little."

That piques your interest. "Then what'd he say?"

"'Just asked if anyone saw us."

"Did anyone see us?"

"No."

"Good," you turn your gaze to the window, shifting in your seat to accommodate for the sore bruises on your upper back. "Nobody knows I ate shit on the fire escape, then."

He snorts, shaking his head.

Soon after, you're up in the air.

With nothing to do but stare out the window and clench the armrests whenever the plane vibrates and shifts, you take to people-watching.

You feel almost comically out of place, watching everyone else go about everything like this was all just another day. They're all in fatigues aside from Nikolai, camo pants and T-shirts with respect for Ghost—who seems to throw the idea of uniform out the window. Nikolai and Price talk in front of you, though you can't hear what they say through the wall and the rumbling of the engine. You hear the Lieutenant and Soap behind you accompanied with the sound of scribbling. Ghost speaks in a low voice every so often to tell Soap the nose is crooked or you drew one of the eyes lower than the other, followed by a quiet curse from Soap and a few seconds of loud erasing. Occasionally, his boot brushes against the back of your heel, and every time it does you swear you could kill him.

Gaz offers you a few snacks, muttering something along the lines of Russian base food is somehow worse than the shit they give you at American D-Facs, before he is sound asleep twenty minutes into the plane ride. His lean arms are folded over his chest and his cap is tucked over his eyes, casting shadows over his dark face. You're not sure why he sat with you—but you figure maybe it's the same reason he took you to your house last night. Pity.

Before any of this, you would have resented him for it, but instead you find yourself wondering what you might be able to do to return the favor. You’ll have to corner Price and ask him for advice or his favorite color the next time you get the chance. He might get a kick out of a friendship bracelet…or something. You’re not entirely sure what your thought process was behind grabbing colored yarn out of your drawers whenever you were packing, but you figure you mine-as-well put it to use.

Not like you had anything else to do.

Not wanting to dwell in your thoughts too much, you take to inspecting the lighter in your pocket. It's old and rusted; you doubt you've touched it since tossing it in the box with the rest of your dad's things years ago. The hinges of the cap take some effort to pry open through the dirt crusted onto it, but it still works, and you take the time to thumb off all the gunk. Rubbing the crust off the bottom, you come to realize there's something scratched into the metal. Your brow furrows in confusion whenever a name stares back at you.

RILEY

"The kid's a fucking liability is what they are." Soap's hushed voice catches your attention, and you shove the lighter back in your pocket, listening in a little closer, "Just another loose end to carry around."

You take a breath, shifting your gaze to watch the ocean out the window. Suddenly, you really miss your phone. Some loud, angry music would really be great right now.

"Price has his reasons, and you have your orders. Best not question them."

"'Bet they're lying about not knowing the codes…" Soap huffs, ignoring Ghost's comment. "Just so that we'll protect their sorry ass."

For the first time in your presence, Ghost actually sounds like he might be irritated, "Wouldn't blame 'em if they were, mate."

"They're gonna flip the whole mission tits-up," Soap replies, shifting in his seat behind you to whisper quieter to his Lieutenant. "We're harboring some dead guy's kid—who has zero training and zero experience, might I add—around a fuckin' warzone for no reason. What if Graves, or someone worse, gets 'em and spills our guts? What if they die?"

"Sounds like you need a little more faith in your Captain."

Soap scoffs, "Didn't take you as a dickrider, LT."

"Shut up, Soap, fucking hell…"

After that, they fall silent. You bite back the frustration that bubbles in your chest, filing it back in your brain with everything else from this week to think about later, when you were alone with a pillow to punch.

The plane ride is nearly a full day, and by the end of it you feel like you left half your brain in Texas and the other half in the Atlantic. Waking up way earlier than necessary to break into your foster home definitely didn't help, either. Sleep is fleeting, but when you do happen to catch a few naps, Ghost’s blood-stained mask still fills your brain. This time, Soap's voice echoes around it.

Gaz is the one to stir you awake whenever you all land. It's dark when you open your eyes save for the dim plane lights, and quiet other than the tired shuffling and grumbling of the others gathering their things. Outside, it's freezing, dark, and snowing—and for a moment it feels like you might still be dreaming.

You pause in the parking lot you find yourself in to look up at the heavy snowflakes that flutter around the otherwise silent landscape. Your breath fogs up into the air above you and the cold makes your ears and nose sting. Spending the last few years on the lower regions of the west coast, snow was a concept that had slipped your mind until now. You remember, vaguely, a time where your father would chase you around a yard—throwing snowballs at you as you laughed and attacked him—and you swallow thickly. You're not sure if the sudden thought is a dream you had once, or perhaps a really distant memory, but it's comforting just the same.

Price lags behind the others, noticing how your footsteps pause behind him. He eyes you, for a while; and watches your bruised eye close against the gentle snow and your fists clench and unclench repeatedly.

“Kid.”

You turn to face him, looking dazed. “Hm?”

“You alright?”

He holds your gaze, his eyes heavy with concern. The question isn’t fleeting. He expects an honest answer this time.

Your mouth opens to say the same response you’ve been saying for days to ward off curious people. You hesitate, however, when scenes from the past week flash through your mind and your mouth snaps shut again. Skull mask. Rifles. Pity. Fluorescent lights. Tactical gear and a scar across the cheek.

You let out a breath that shudders slightly and you shake your head.

“Just…” Your voice sounds hoarse. You look away, gesturing vaguely to the plane as if that answered Price’s question at all. “Tired, I guess. Couldn't sleep. Soap was talking shit.”

Price’s brow pinches. “Soap was what?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and pad through the snow to catch up with him. “Gaz isn’t in trouble, is he?”

Price sighs and it fogs out into the cold. He shakes his head and fishes around his pockets before pulling out a cigar and a lighter. You watch as he presses it to his lips and lights it, the glow lighting up his face in the dark. The bags under his eyes are deeper than they usually are.

"No," he exhales. "Far from it."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Price chuckles.

"He only would've gotten in trouble if he did something stupid," he says. "What he did wasn't stupid, it was insubordinate. He had a plan and he executed it well…despite how he did it without permission."

"Does he usually do that?"

"Do what?"

"Things without permission."

"No," Price says again and exhales more smoke. "None of them do. Not unless the situation is dire."

A beat passes as you both walk and he smokes. It's silent aside from the rest of 141 talking and walking a little ways in front of you, haloed against the yellow streetlights of the base before you. Funny, it looks almost identical to the one in Texas—but bigger. Liminal. Colder, in more ways than one.

"I feel useless," you say, suddenly, and it's like now that you’ve started your mouth won’t stop running. "I don't have the codes and I can barely break into my own house never mind keep up with any of you guys. I can't do anything, and I hate it. If I'm going to stick around here…I want to be useful, somehow."

Price’s eyebrows raise slightly. In the five days you've spent living on base, Price thinks that might be the first time he's heard you complain—never mind say more than a few clipped sentences to him.

"You weren't supposed to get tangled up in this," Price insists. "So, it's our job to fix it. Not yours."

"I want to, though." You insist, “If I can’t help, I’m a liability.”

"No," Price shakes his head with finality. "No. You’re not, and you won't. Because then you'll end up like him, and that's the last thing any of us want."

You shoot Price a look; one that's somewhere between helpless, shocked, and frustrated. A million things to say cycle through your mind but you can't find the energy to pinpoint which you want to articulate first. So, you bite your tongue as he finishes his cigar and flicks it off in the snow somewhere. The ember dies immediately, and he sets a hand on your shoulder.

"C'mon," he says, softer now, as he picks up the pace. "Let's catch up with the others. Get you some sleep."

You're being brushed off. It stings, but it's a familiar kind of hurt this time. One you've grown up with and one you can manage. One that, pared with the soothing hand on your back and Price's confession that some people here do care what happens to you—is a nearly fatal blow that finally leaves you, for once, without a final word to put in.

A sigh leaves you as you find that you’re too tired to remain angry. Subconsciously, you lean into the hand on your back as you drag your feet towards the base. The rest of the walk is comfortingly silent, and snow falls silently around you as you watch the ice at your feet.

If you listened close enough, you could hear each individual snowflake hit the white ground, and for the first time in years you feel like you might've found something that feels slightly like home.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @karurururu @nostalgialeech

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

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lovesuhng · 7 months ago

Text

umbrella and hot chocolate

w.c: 1k fluff

You couldn’t believe how tired you were and it was only Thursday. The hard routine of work and university was leaving you exhausted, but your class was ending and you were finally going home. Saying goodbye to your colleagues, you headed to the bus stop. The sky was already giving strong signs that heavy rain was going to come and all you could think was: “I hope the rain starts when I’m home”. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

The first drops started to fall when you were inside the bus. So, you started looking for your umbrella inside your backpack, but, as the universe wasn't helping you and you realized that you had forgotten it somewhere in your apartment.

It was about 20 minutes to walk to the building where you lived and you didn't want to wait for the rain to stop, so, as soon as you got off the bus, you walked towards your apartment, pretending that you didn't care about the raindrops that left you completely wet.

After walking for a while, you decided to stop at a convenience store that was close to your building to buy some things that were missing for your dinner. After paying for everything, as well as apologizing for having wet part of the store, you were about to continue on your way until you heard someone calling your name. When you turned around, you saw that it was your neighbor, Johnny Suh, walking towards you and holding his umbrella, as the rain was still falling.

“Oh, hi Johnny!” You said, trying to be as friendly as you could.

"What happened to you?" Johnny said, visibly worried about the state you were in.

“Let’s just say I wanted to get home soon.” You responded with an awkward smile.

“Let's just say that if you continue in the rain, you will end up catching a very bad cold. Come on, I’ll give you a ride in my umbrella.”

"What?! You don’t need to do that”

“___, you’re already under it” That’s when you realized that he had already been protecting you from the rain this whole time. "Let's go.”

Then, both of you started walking to the building where they lived. You huddled up to try to protect yourself and not take up all the space on the umbrella. Johnny noticed what you were doing.

"Excuse me."

You just nodded and Johnny put his arm around your shoulders, so you were closer to him. You looked at him in surprise and it was at that moment that you realized how tall your neighbor was and,also, very handsome. For some inexplicable reason, the man's honey-colored eyes gave you a sense of security. So automatically, you hugged him around the waist, making a slight shiver run through the man's body. Anyone who saw you from afar would think you were the most passionate couple there exist, but you were just neighbors who rarely exchanged a few words.

Upon arriving at the building, the two of you separated, still with a slightly strange atmosphere, which continued when you entered the elevator. You finally arrived in front of your respective apartments. You noticed that Johnny's left shoulder was wet, probably because he made room for you in the umbrella and his clothes were also slightly wet because of the contact you had. “Wow, you also ended up getting wet because of me. I'm so sorry!" It was funny how you gestured apologizing for getting the man a little wet.

“You don’t need to apologize because I didn’t even get that wet, unlike you.” You were shivering from the cold, even though you were already in a warmer place. “Go in quickly, take a warm shower, make some tea or some hot chocolate, I don’t know, anything that warms you up.” Johnny said pointing to the door of your apartment.

"Thank you very much. You saved me today. I owe you one.” You waved goodbye to Johnny before entering the apartment.

After taking a shower and putting on some warm pajamas, you were about to make some tea, but you heard the doorbell to your apartment ring. You were surprised to see Johnny again.

“Oh hi?!”

"Hey. I’m sorry I’m disturbing you at this point but I did it.” He extended the thermos bottle that was in his hands to you, who still didn't understand what was happening. “You seemed very tired so I decided to make you some hot chocolate. I mean… I was going to make it for myself, so I brought it for you too.” At that moment Johnny was fumbling over his words and running his hand over the back of his head, as if to signal that he was nervous. All you did was smile and find it funny that he was so confused, so you took the bottle, making Johnny stop talking.

“I was about to make tea, but this cold weather was calling for hot chocolate. Thank you very much Johnny.” You smiled at him, and he returned it. “I swear if I wasn't so tired I would ask you to have that hot chocolate with me, but I feel like a truck ran over me.”

“I know they will have other opportunities. Then tell me if you liked it. I'm going” Johnny said pointing to his own apartment.

“I will definitely tell you what I thought of this fantastic hot chocolate. It's gonna save my night. So… Good night, Johnny.”

"Good night, __".

You leaned against the door as soon as you closed it. You thought it was funny that your neighbor was so attentive to you today. You knew that the old ladies in the building fell in love with him, now you understood why: in addition to being an extremely handsome and attractive man, he was very helpful and nice. A silly smile ended up appearing on your face when you thought about your neighbor. In the apartment next door, Johnny found himself in the same situation: smiling like a fool. He couldn't believe what had just happened. After so long, he had finally talked for more than 5 minutes with his neighbor, the woman because he had a platonic love and that, after that night, it didn't seem like something so far away.

In addition to the interactions that had happened that night, the “hug” they had given to protect themselves from the rain, a question took over Johnny's mind:

“Did she like the hot chocolate?”

#nct scenarios #nct #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct drabbles #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 fluff #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x y/n #johnny drabble #johnny fluff #johnny x reader #johnny suh #johnny suh x reader

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ephedrathirsts · 2 years ago

Text

Teach me

Synopsis: Your best friend asks you to take his virginity. As the both of you spend more time getting intimate with each other, you are forced to acknowledge your feelings for one another.

Contains: idiots in love trope, friends to lovers trope, lovers in denial, one-bed trope, crack and sarcasm, mutual pining, smut, fingering (reader receiving), dry-humping, fluff, afab reader, eventual angst, anger issues, allusions to surgery

Pairing: Hunter Sylvester! x afab! reader

Word count: 4900

Parts: I, II

You woke up feeling Hunter's breath tickling the back of your neck, his hand still resting firmly on top of you. You turned around to look at him as he was asleep. He looked very peaceful- a huge contrast with his usual state of being. His eyebrows were scrunched up and his mouth was slightly open. He looked cute just lying there. He pulled you closer and nuzzled into you.

"I could feel you staring at me even in my sleep." He yawned and swallowed.

You were caught, embarrassment flooding your head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You whispered apologetically.

"It's ok, you can make it up to me by staying like this for a little bit." You flushed. He wanted to hold you close. You were baffled but also incredibly joyful about it.

"I can do that." You assured

He made a clicking noise with his tongue and pecked your cheek. You were melting. The last thing you had ever imagined is Hunter being so soft and loving. I guess it is true what people say- harsh exterior, mushy interior. His hair was getting all messy as he adjusted to lay on your chest and put his arms on your sides.

This whole course or whatever he called it was working all too well with you realizing that you might in fact have feelings for this weirdo. You couldn't keep lying to yourself anymore. Your heart was getting warmer for him by the second and the lovey-dovey act made it all the worse. You needed to snap out of it. Detach before it got fatal.

"I think I need to go home."

"We haven't even had breakfast yet. There is Captain Crunch in the kitchen, especially for you." He smiled

"Oh, fuck you, asshole." You jabbed him lightly in the ribs and giggled.

"Ouch, that hurt a lot. Don't you want to kiss it better?" He pouted, pleading to you with his eyes.

You lowered your head to level with his ribs and kissed them over his T-shirt. Then you quickly got out of bed and got your clothes from his desk. "Ok, I gotta run now. Hope you feel better." You nudged yourself to get dressed as fast as possible and head out of the door but before you knew it he was out of bed and hugging you.

"I'm not going to be keeping you. Just wanted to say bye." He declared as he put one loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart was in your throat. Or somewhere else entirely, you weren't sure. But all you knew was that you couldn't speak. You couldn't say anything. You tried to calm down your breathing discreetly, bit down on your tongue, and coughed up a quiet "goodbye". You let go of him and rushed out the door.

His face dropped once you had gone. He knew he had fucked up. Maybe you wouldn't want to even see him again. He probably freaked you out with how needy he was acting but he couldn’t control it. His plan wasn’t going so great after all.

"Fuck!" He hissed as he punched the kitchen island. "Shit, that actually did hurt. Fuck!" He snickered again, holding his fist close to his face so he could inspect it.

"Don't break any of my furniture, kid!" His dad came into the room. "You had a rough night? Wanna talk about it..." For a moment Hunter considered it and then..

"... I mean I get it; they always look prettier at night and in the morning... Uh... Real hags, am I right?" He tried to sound as if he empathized with his son.

"You are talking about my best friend!" Hunter snapped.

"Oh, she spent the night. She is a good kid. But what I said still applies. Everyone looks better at night and when you wake up you realize you made a mistake..."

"Yeah, I get that," Hunter mumbled to himself with a pained expression. "I'm alright, I'm just gonna go down to my room."

"Ok, kiddo. I'm gonna make bacon later, you can help yourself to a serving.." Hunter had already left.

In the meantime, you were sprinting home, galloping even, floating through the air. But why? You felt so nice with him. There was no actual reason for you to go. You couldn't take it. All this uncertainty. All of these intrusive thoughts clouding your judgment. You couldn’t like your friend. Especially not now. Not after what you agreed to do. It is only bound to become worse for you while in the back of his mind there was probably a mental list of all of the girls he was going to bed or whatever.

You had to put your feelings aside. Your friend needed you and you promised to help. And to start making things right you needed to apologize. "I'm sorry I ran off in such a hurry. I remembered I had to look after my uncle's dog. I had a really good time last night! Next time you can pick the show :)"

You texted, wanting to make sure you didn't offend him in any way with your behavior, sprinkling in a little white lie to seem as not so big of an asshole.

Hunter's phone buzzed. He saw he got a text from you. He wasn't prepared for whatever you had sent but curiosity urged him to open the message. "It's no problem. Next time we are doing it at yours and ur ordering." He replied, a smile appearing on his face.

Hunter came over to your house the next weekend. He made a mental note: no funny business, no overdoing it, no scaring you off. He wanted to do anything and everything with you. Go all the way, but you didn't need to know it or sense it. He shouldn't have made it obvious. "Ok, here goes nothing." He whispered to himself.

You opened the door after hearing him knock, shivers and cold sweats running down your body. You could do this. It was just a normal hang-out with your friend. Nothing more. The two of you hadn't spent one on one time for a whole week. That's probably why you were feeling so anxious. "Hello there.." you said awkwardly."Come on in. I've ordered Chinese food and I have snacks."

"Cool.." he smiled politely, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"What do you want to watch.."

"Look I'm sorry. I can't just not say anything. I know I weirded you out last time and I didn't mean to. We can stop with the lessons. I can learn the old-fashioned way." He cleared his throat

"Hunter, you can't possibly weird me out, we've known each other for so long that there Is nothing you could do to achieve that..." You stated well-intentioned, completely lying through your teeth. "I said I was going to help you and from the beginning, you told me how you wanted it to be. You don't want it to seem fabricated, you want it to be natural, and if that's how you are around people you like then whoever gets on your rooster will be incredibly lucky." You smiled at him invitingly

"Thank you.." he still felt a bit shy and out of place but he appreciated your words. "So we are continuing this experiment?" He asked, waiting for a confirmation.

"As long as you want to, yes."

"Great, that's great, yeah. It is totally going to help in the future... you know... when I like someone.."

"Yeah, I do know." You mumbled disappointedly.

The both of you were seated on the sofa in the living room, barely speaking to each other, not because you were so engulfed in the incredible storytelling of "Extreme Cheapskates" but because the both of you were too afraid to disturb the peace, to ruin everything. There was an uncomfortable amount of distance between you and both of you secretly wanted to break it, but you were set on restraining yourselves. Wishing that the other would be the one to make the first move or to speak up.

"I'm gonna go get the popcorn out of the microwave. Be right back"

"Ok, don't take too much time or you might miss the juicy part."

"Sure, as if there is a juicy part." You welled sarcastically from the kitchen, reaching into the microwave, distractedly feeling for the hot bag of popcorn, palms first. You yelped in pain.

"Fuck, ouch" you hissed. Hunter jumped out of his seat and hurried over to you. He looked at you with worry as you ran your hand under the kitchen sink, cold water splashing over your skin.

"I'm ok, don't worry. Just slightly burned myself, a common mistake. Just me being clumsy." You joked but you could still see him coming closer to you to inspect your hand, drying it off with a towel and holding it caringly.

"Do you have Band-Aids or a plaster?" He asked

"Don't be silly, this is nothing. It's not even an actual burn. It just stung a little bit. That's all." You said reassuringly, becoming increasingly aware of his proximity. You could smell his cologne, see every little scratch on his face. As he was holding your gaze, he brought your hand to his mouth and started planting little kisses over it. You gulped. You couldn't take it. His eyes boring into yours. Into your soul even.

He opened his mouth to speak a soft "Is that better?" but you hungrily hushed him with your lips, gripping tightly onto the fabric of his jacket.

He kissed you back, hands on your waist, pulling you close, sensing the scent of your shampoo. He wanted you and maybe you wanted him too.

Not letting go of each other, you led him back into the living room and pushed him down onto the sofa. You were on top of him, looking down with a sheepish smile. He reached up and cupped your face, kissing you way more confidently this time, his tongue meeting yours and playing with it. He put his hands on the small of your back, pushing you down to close the gap between you. As you broke away, he started looking at you all starstruck.

"Do you want to go up to my room?" You asked in a hushed voice. That's all he ever wanted for as long as he could remember, but now when the possibility was so close he panicked. He wasn't ready to have you this close not knowing whether it was going to last.

"Yeah, I do," he said as he gently kissed your neck. "But I can't…I can't do it tonight…I'm sorry." He broke away from your skin

"Oh?" Flush set over your face. "I didn't mean... I get it if you're not ready, I just wanted more privacy... Not sure when my parents are gonna come bursting through the door. I can't have them seeing me on top of you like this."

Fuck, that's how it sounded. I mean maybe you wanted it. You did want to actually. But you were going to let it play out slow and steady. You didn't mean to rush things.

"Oh, ok then.. let’s go.." Hunter chuckled embarrassedly.

"I mean, I thought you were staying over. Like when I stayed over last time. I'm sorry I made things awkward. I didn't mean to kill the mood." You fidgeted with your fingers.

"It's ok, you didn't." He laughed softly and pecked your lips.

Both of you went up the stairs and straight to your room. You were getting progressively hornier. Inexplicably so, right? You hushed the lighting a bit and played music from one of his playlists so he feels more at home. Then you held his hand and whispered: "Do you want to come to bed with me?"

"Yes, positively so." He answered excitedly.

He was such a kid. You loved him for it. Uh.. the l-word. Nope, too early for that. Time to push the thought down and not examine it ever again.

He laid on top of you this time, stroking your hair and slowly kissing down your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. He looked down at you adoringly and played with the hem of your shirt.

"You can take it off if you want to." You told him almost inaudibly

A rush coursed through his body, he put his arms on your stomach and slowly started to peel it off of you when a voice echoed through the house. "Honey, we are home." Shit, cockblocks. The nation's favorites. "Come down for a moment, you need to put away all these plates if you are going to bed. You can't just leave a mess like that." Your mom shouted.

"Coming" you answered with annoyance. "I'm sorry.." you started massaging your temples angrily

"It's ok, I'll come down with you. It's my mess too." He grinned lovingly and you gave him an appreciative kiss in response. "Thanks"

After you were done washing the dishes and organizing them back into their respective places, the two of you went up to your room again. "I'm sorry for the interruption." You looked at him apologetically

"It's ok, we can pick up where we left off some other time right?" He asked all hopeful and giddy.

"Yes, of course." You went to the bathroom and undressed. Putting on one of your favorite slip dress. Maybe you weren't going to have sex tonight but you could still give him a view. Hunter peeled off his T-shirt and jeans and tucked himself in bed, sniffing your pillows before you came back in.

"I'm sorry. It is so warm. I'm going to boil if I wear the T-shirt..." He spat out distractedly as he saw you come closer to him.

"That's ok. I want you to be comfortable." You were holding his gaze and you could see his eyes all too obviously roaming your body. Your hair was down, the skirt of the gown ending only a couple of inches after your thighs. One of the straps had slid down your shoulders and the material of the dress was leaving pretty little to the imagination.

Without a beat, he grabbed you by the hips and positioned you on top of him, your skirt riding up and revealing more of your skin to him. Both of your straps were slightly off your shoulders now and your breath had hitched in your throat. "Hunter.."

"…You said you weren't ready.." you uttered as his lips came down to your neck, not so tentatively this time, not caring at all whether he left a mark. You gasped loudly at this action.

"I can still make you feel good, right?" He said in a hushed husky tone. "What else are a guitarist’s fingers good for? Just don't make too much noise. I don't want your parents banning me from your house." He smirked and flipped you over getting on top of you. You had never wanted him more. You bit your bottom lip. You were getting so wet just by listening to him talk.

He continued kissing and sucking on your neck and slowly touching up your thighs, scratching them, making you hiss. "May I?" He said pleading.

"Ye-yes... Please do.."

He was getting so fucking hard seeing you like this. But he wanted to prove himself to you. Show you how much he values your pleasure over his. He started massaging your clit, warranting a gasp or two from you. As he found the right tempo, he could see you fully letting go, gripping tightly onto his biceps. Scratching him as you did, which he loved.

When he was sure you were wet enough, he inserted one of his fingers into you, hitting you just in the right spot. Your legs were shaking. You were nothing but a sweating, cursing mess under his touch."Fuck, Hunter, don't stop!"

"Not planning to."He dipped his head to suck on the upper part of your breasts and added in another finger. Pumping in and out at a steady pace he started moving faster into you, making you moan. Damn all of his experience plucking strings. It felt waay too good.

He thrusted into you faster, knowing all too well you weren't going to last much longer. He bore into your eyes. He could see you were close, you just needed a little encouragement and encouraging he was: -"It's ok, you can let go. Come all over my fingers. I'll lick them clean later."

That was all you needed to hear. You gripped him harder, pushing yourself up to crash into him, and bit down on his shoulder as you finished all over his hand. He continued fingering you until you came down from your high.

He removed his fingers from you and inserted them into his mouth, savoring every little drop of you. "You taste fucking amazing." He exclaimed as he bent down to kiss your lips. Your cheeks were red and there was no hiding it.

You held up a glass of water to him. You were mesmerized as if you were seeing him with new eyes. This was Hunter, your presumed ‘just friend’. The one who had just made you come and put you on cloud nine. After he gulped down his water he asked with a concerned expression: "Did I do well?"

You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him gently. “Yes, you did fantastically." You smiled into his lips and he smiled too.

The metal aficionado was extremely geeked. Reviewing his notes every day and replaying the time you had spent together in his head constantly. He was trying to be slick, but he wasn't sure how long it would take before he crumbled.

He had fooled you. Unbeknownst to you, he had no intention of even entertaining the idea of getting with his so-called ‘groupies’. He wanted you to be his teacher because was only interested in pleasing one person- you. Studying what you desire and what puts you off.

It probably sounded a bit scheming but he couldn't just go up to you to confess that he liked you, you know, as a normal fucking human being would. He didn't even want to fully admit it to himself. Emotions were tricky for him and so were for you. The situation wouldn't have gone anywhere if he were to breach the gap with you not returning his feelings. No, he needed a plan to make you want him too and he was willing to do anything to achieve it. That's why when you finally followed up on your next lesson, he was ecstatic.

"I'm gonna come by your place later tonight."

"Cool, text me when ur close." He wanted to sound nonchalant but he was freaking out. Acting like a fangirl watching fancams of one of her favorite kpop idols. He was so giddy and happy that even his father got worried.

"What the fuck is that squeaky noise coming out of your room, kid? Are you ok?"

"I'm doing amazing birth enabler! Also don't just pop in the stairway without announcing yourself. I could be wanting my privacy."

"When you get yourself a fancy house with a pool, music studio, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, kitchen and living room by cutting and filling up tits is when you will be entitled to your privacy."

"I know you would rather be FEELING up tits instead-but if I were to properly think about doing some of that myself I would still need my fucking space, so leave! Now!"

"I'm paying your therapist way too much!"

"That's all of the precious boob money for you!" Hunter screamed annoyed, trying to sound witty while he heard a different set of footsteps down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, did I come at the wrong time? I texted you ten minutes ago and rang the doorbell but you didn't reply so I let myself in. Oh, and hello mister Sylvester."

"Well hello to you too, looks like some people your age still have manners, Hunter! Always a pleasure to have you home, darling. I wanted to say I'm sorry about your aunt… It's terrible what happened to her. You know you're basically family so if you ever want to have a breast augmentation, I can make you a deal for the implants afterward. With a chest your size, not too big to be a burden to your back but still eye-catching enough you should keep the volume so..."

"Father, get the fuck out! And stop staring at students’ tits!"

"Don't get ridiculous Hunter, she is like a daughter to me. I would never.. anyways I think I have some work to do. I'm gonna leave you kids to it." He replied as he not so discreetly winked at Hunter

"Fuck... Fucking finally. I'm so sorry! He was incredibly fucking insensitive and creepy."

"He was staring directly at my chest, like eyeing it reeal good."

"Yeah, he is fucking disgusting. I'm so sorry."

"It isn't your fault; you don't have to apologize for his behavior. I'm fine."

"Do you want to come some other time; I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"No, I take all of my ventures very seriously. I told you I was going to be here so here I am."

"Yeah," Hunter said self-consciously, scratching the back of his neck. He noticed how pretty you looked. You always looked pretty, but you had gone out of your way to do so this time. With your hair done, make-up on, a familiar scent of your perfume drifting through the air and the pendent Hunter had gifted you for your birthday hanging around your neck. He was entranced.

"I don't think we should go all the way tonight. We are still testing things out, being in the beginning stages and all."

Hunter snapped back awake from his daydream."Mhm" was all he could muster. He wanted to go and grab you, kiss you right this moment but he couldn't just do that after his father's speech. He needed to get the mood going. "Firstly, do you want to listen to some music? You can play whatever you want. Even your shitty the Weeknd knockoffs."

"Chase Atlantic have some good songs, ok? And it's not so much about quality with them. It's about the vibe of it all. The experience. But that's a great suggestion for the occasion."

"I don't know, they sound like try-hard vampire wannabes."

"Yeah, that’s the beauty of it."

You turned on the speaker and played one of your playlists. For a moment you were somewhere else, mouthing the lyrics, humming to yourself, slowly rocking your hips in tune with the music as Hunter came up behind you and turned your head so you were facing him."Good thing you're also beautiful, otherwise I would never listen to that crap." He muttered in a hushed voice.

You mustered a barely audible "thank you" and he shushed you with his lips. It was hard to get used to. Him touching you like that, talking to you like he wasn't little old Hunter. The one you grew up with, the one you had known ever since diapers, but right now it was too hard to perceive him that way. You had already gone over the crossing line and there was no going back.

He held your hand in his and whispered into your mouth: "Do you want to come to bed with me? I promise I won't do anything to scare you off." Batting his eyelashes, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Do you even know how to?" You teased, feeling him come up against you again way more assertively this time.

His hands landed on your hips, yours entangled in his hair. His tongue slithered into your mouth, soft gasps escaping both of you. He was calculated at first, confident but measured until he got progressively hungrier for your kiss. As you started reaching for his back, pushing him closer and closer to you he deepened the kiss and began roaming your body with his hands. Your knees were getting weak just from the slightest touch. He was a virgin but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a hell of a good kisser. You started to lose balance. He prompted you up by sliding his knee between your legs. A dirty trick that was working very well in his favor.

You parted to get some air and he whispered again. "I hope not." You were flushed, all knots in your stomach and trembling pulsing sensation all over your limbs. He had turned you into jello just by kissing you and that did scare you because you didn't expect to feel this good, to want him so much.

"Lead the way." You your heart was racing.

Hunter grabbed your hand again and sat on top of his bed. To his surprise, you didn't sit next to him or opposite him. You made yourself comfortable in his lap, lightly grinding down on him. All of his confidence from before flew out the window. You looked at him with lust in your eyes, your lips forming a devilish smile as you scanned his face. He was getting nervous. He wanted to impress you and he loved every second of it but he wasn't expecting you to look at him the same way. He guessed you were committed to your job. He was speechless just looking at you, wanting to remember this forever.

"What are you getting so shy for, didn't you invite me here?" You grinned cockily "It's ok baby boy, I can do some of the work now. You just relax." You whispered into his lips kissing him yourself with none of the measure or sensitivity of some of your previous kisses. You were boiling from the inside. A volcano ready to erupt. You grinded on him wantingly, letting him feel the wetness seeping through your underwear as your skirt had ridden up your thighs, exposing them deliciously. He moaned in response when you pulled on his hair, nibbling and sucking on his lips and finishing him off by biting the lower one.

You being so desperately horny for him got him so incredibly hard. He was a mess under your touch but he needed you to be one under his as well. He couldn't control it anymore. He held down your inner thighs, squeezing them hard as his fingers dug into your skin. You gasped and moaned. He began sucking on your neck, leaving purple bruises on his path. He licked and kissed your calves and upper breasts as you purred into his ear."Hunter, this feels so damn good."

Electricity coursed through his body. He needed to have you all to himself like this forever. He gripped your hips hard, moving you on top of him faster and faster. He kissed you just like you had kissed him

before. With his lustful tongue making patterns in your mouth, sucking on your lips, and then biting you playfully. He put more and more speed in, feeling your heat press against his erection so violently. He was going to come; he couldn't contain himself but he needed you to come with him too.

"God, you make me insane. You are so fucking hot." He hissed while bucking his hips upwards, hitting your core in the most sinful way.

You could see he was close and you needed something to push both of you off the edge so without even thinking you whimpered into his mouth. "If you get this hard and desperate for me now, I could only imagine what you would do when you're stretching me out with your dick."

That was the last straw. He couldn't hold on anymore. He came under you, cum bursting all over his boxers and he couldn't be happier about it. Your legs were twitching as you came a second later, a vibration coursing through your body. You closed your eyes for a moment just to open them and to remember -you just made your best friend cream his pants and you wanted to do it again and again.

But then the sinking feeling came in. He wanted to do this as a form of practice for other girls. He was going to creep up under your skin, get to your heart, and then use all of the moments you've spent together to please someone else. Like it didn't mean anything. And the worst part was that this was exactly what you agreed to, so why did it make you ache?

Hunter was blissful. He was much closer to you than he had ever been before and it seemed like you were feeling this newfound closeness too, that you liked It, but this voice in the back of his head came back rushing in: "She is just following up on her promise. If she feels anything towards me right now, it's probably pity."

You slowly untangled yourself from the metalhead, got up, and straightened up your skirt. "Well, I gotta go now. Good job today, partner.. uh student." You gave him an awkward high-five and bolted out of his room.

Yeah, it was definitely pity.

#metal lords #metal lords hunter sylvester #metal lords fanficition #metal lords smut #hunter sylvester #hunter sylvester fanfiction #hunter sylvester smut #hunter sylvester x reader #hunter sylvester x reader smut #hunter sylvester x afab reader #hunter sylvester x afab reader smut #hunter sylvester imagine #kevin schlieb

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shoyastars · 4 months ago

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My 100th Post! 🥳

Ok long story short, I couldn’t get the image of this outta my head!

Soooooo

Ray x GN/ Reader

The proposal of a lifetime.

Yes its something other than my oc x ray, not to mention you guys are probably tired of it by now hehe!

Anyways…

Let’s begin.

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Ray was always protective of your love and always patient as he could with you, when you were ready to love again, especially after double vision, you weren’t entirely sure what you were getting yourself into. However… one day by someone mysterious, the NAHA’s wrong doings were brought to the public eye and somehow Ray escaped the binds of it all, and the NAHA had to have a rewritten system. Ray got the news that he would only be needed if truly necessary, which was when aliens attacked, it did still annoy him but it was a bit fair due to some of the hero’s still a bit inexperienced with the said situations. However, he was able to not have a chains attached or be bothered, due to the new staff knowing his power, he could possibly destroy everything if they were to try anything. Ray was not free from the governments eyes but was able to have a good once of freedom he’s never had before. He mostly spent it with you. You were his tie to humanity, and if you weren’t here at all he would’ve destroyed humanity at this point…. But he never did. He felt more human more sane, all thanks to you. As he said to you before, you were his binary star.

Soon going on dates without worry and able to spend more time with you as days pass, he realized he wanted more. More than just a simple title as a lover. He had it planned out, a nice picnic somewhere nobody else would interfere and no one to ruin the mood, he wore something special for the occasion even texting you to put on something nice. He flew you out because he was too excited to simply drive. When you both landed you were more skeptical than ever, first the blindfold, then him flying? Something was definitely up with him.

“Ray, what are you planning?”

He let out a soft chuckle as he let you down carefully.

“Wait and see, I picked out a perfect spot just for us.”

He lead you by taking your hands and guiding you. When you both stopped you heard him go behind you and take off your blindfold, due to the darkness your eyes had to adjust to the sunlight a bit.

“Well?”

When you’re eye’s focused, you saw a beautiful site, a lakeside picnic. You were a bit speechless.

“I- I don’t know what to say…”

He walked in front of you and gave you a passionate kiss.

“No need, you’re face expression says it all star.”

“But… why all the way out here?”

You crossed your arms and smiled a bit you knew exactly by now if it’s something worth Ray dressing formally for then he has something up his sleeve.

He smiled and let out a soft laugh.

“I just can’t hide anything from you now a day can I?”

He put his hands in his pockets.

“What If I wanted to enjoy the view?”

You scoffed and turned a bit as you weren’t believing that.

“Hmph! And I thought we agreed not to hide things from each other again.”

Ray saw his chance and took it. He took a deep breath, scared out of his mind.

You were wondering why he was so quiet now.

“Ray?”

“Maybe if you turn around it would be more clear.”

“What?”

When you did, you were met with him on one knee. He took out a small box, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Was this all truly happening or was it all just a dream?

“Star… you’ve changed my life, in ways I’ve never thought it could, depending on it being good or bad for me. You were most important. You made me realize I could be more than what I thought I was.”

Ray opened up the box to reveal a beautiful ring, it wasn’t too flashy or anything outrageous. Your emotions were pouring over at this point, your hands over your mouth, tears practically in your eyes, it was happening. You weren’t dreaming. It was real.

“Would you… like to fulfill a greater purpose for us?”

You couldn’t help but kneel to the ground on both knees, you were so happy, you were questioning why you were crying. Was it the fact you didn’t think you’d find someone like Ray to begin with? Or we’re you so sure you’re villain career would’ve ruined any chance for you to have a happy married life?

Ray starts to worry, his hand shaking as he was going to check on you.

“Star, are you-“

Without warning you hugged him along with a passionate kiss on the lips, Ray couldn’t help but feel both relief and joy. The little box still in hand as he wrapped his arms around you as you kissed, when you pulled away you were still crying tears of happiness laughing as you knew you weren’t dreaming at all, it was all real, he was real, this was real.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes?”

“Yeah haha!”

He took the ring and put it on your ring finger, you couldn’t help but laugh as you saw it fit perfectly, weeeelll actually it was a bit loose but that’s a problem for later.

“Wait… I thought we couldn’t…. Wouldn’t the NAHA?”

“The new head said hero’s personal lives should remain personal. And they knew if they were to try anything on me I’d practically have to deal with them personally.”

“Personally? Wow Ray never thought you’d be that intimidating.”

He shrugs.

“They just realized how much of a problem it would be if they were to make an enemy of me I guess.”

You’d playfully nudge him, causing him to laugh a bit.

At that moment he had so much love for you he wasn’t even worried about what could possibly come next. He knew exactly what he wanted, a future with you. You were his star, and he was willing to take a chance with you, might as well go all the way.

“Now come on, it’s a picnic for a reason, I bet you made the food yourself since this was oh so secret.”

You move over to the blanket set out of you two of you.

Ray smiled as he then goes to join you, enjoying the rest of the day together.

In a world he was brought in, he thought nothing was worth saving, till he saw you petting that cat.

He knew there would be something about you, knowing something about you was bound to change something within him he didn’t know needed to be changed. Or felt….

He felt love

He felt beloved

He felt…. Human.

He was simply… Ray

He forgot he was Binary Star that day.

He was ready for anything now more than ever.

You were ready more than ever to.

Come at you and him, you were ready for it.

Ready to face the world.

Together.

————————————————————————————————————————

The end

————————————————————————————————————————

Please be sure to know this was inspired off of @smxhyphy

Due to the picture!

Without this picture This beautiful scenario would of probably never existed 😩

I hope you all enjoyed! Be sure to support the artist of the commission!

And as always if you want to give me criticism for my writing be sure to put it in the comments!

✨💗Bye!💗✨

#binary star hero #binary star hero vn #binarystarhero #hehehe #bshvn #binarystarherovn #binary star hero ray #binary star hero au???

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yesimilkdamilkman · 11 months ago

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ʚɞ𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒: 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐖 𝐒𝐎'𝐋𝐄𝐊ʚɞ

-`♡´-𝐒𝐨'𝐥𝐞𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐍𝐚'𝐯𝐢! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-`♡´-

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I literally finished just now. Thanks again to @neteyamsyawntu for making Kinkmas! All of the kinkmas prompts will be posted at the same time every day! (5:30 PM CST time) 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.

summary: You were freezing even being close to the fire, so So'lek helped the only way he knew.

WARNINGS: Spanking, cursing, p in v, unprotected sex, cum-shot.

Words: 546

The forest had gotten extremely cold, these past few days. Winter was approaching, and animals were going into hibernation, or going south to warmer climates. But the na'vi stay in the forest all year, even when it gets cold. You and So'lek were heading back to the camp, but you both needed somewhere to rest for the night. Y’all had found a tree to rest under for the night.

But even with the fire you both were freezing, you were as close to the fire as you could be, but you were still shivering; teeth clattering against one another. So'lek was bothered by the cold, but he knew how to hide it.

But he hated seeing you suffer, so he helped out in the only way he knew. Now you're still next to the fire for any extra warmth. just with your face buried into the dirt, and ass in the air. With one of So'lek's hands planted firmly on your waist pulling you back to meet his hips. And the other holding yours together.

"ah-, fuck!" you gasp, as his pelvic bone slams into your ass. "So'lek slo-slow d-down," you pleaded with him as you choked out a few moans. He heard, you know he did. He ignores you, picking up the pace as he rolls his hips in a circular motion; groans spill from his mouth, as he feels you clench around him.

You were all sweaty, hot, and tired. Tears run down your face as you whine and moan, at the feeling of So'lek's dick hitting your spot repeatedly. So'lek took the hand that was holding yours together and slapped your ass a few times. Making you put both of yours on his hips, trying to push him away. "Move your hands," he stated, you didn't. "Move your hands,' he said coldly, but you kept them there.

"Move. Your. Fucking. Hands," but once again you kept them there. (You should've moved your hands, babe.) He grabbed the base of your kuru and pulled it; harshly. You yelped moving your hands, one in front of you and the other started rubbing your kuru. He pulled out of you, and pushed you on your back, forcing you into a mating press.

Before you could react to anything else, he was stuffing himself back into your velvet walls. He started pounding you senseless, " wai- ahh." You tried speaking, but couldn't due to So'lek's relentless pounding the only thing you could do was scream as hot tears ran down your face. He was hitting your spot perfectly; too perfect. You felt a knot forming in your stomach, you were gonna cum. So'lek's strokes started growing sloppy, he was close too. He knew you were going to cum soon, he could tell by the way you tightened around him. 'Fuck, you're tight" he spoke through a strained groan.

"Im gon- gonn-," you were cut off, as a wave of pleasure hits you, your walls spasming, muscles cramping, as you gush around him. He thursted a few more times, before letting out a moan, pulling out with hot, sticky ropes of a blue-tinted cum land on your stomach.

"Are you warm now, tìyawn (love)?" He said, laying down next to you, and pulling your body closer to his.

Taglist: @pandoraslxna, @neteyamsyawntu

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witchofsparkles · 2 months ago

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Simon was having a fairly quiet evening. In a bar like theirs, it was mostly empty anyways. The place was hidden at the end of a dark alley, making it hard for people to find and the ones who found it would turn around and leave because of its place. Who would open a bar there? Probably people who are not up to no good.

And like that, in time, the place became somewhere really shady. They offered them a silent environment and a promise to be not listened and watched. For that, Price put Simon as the bartender. He wasn’t a talker and would wear a black balaclava all the time. The business people wouldn’t know him if they saw him outside and Simon didn’t care what the hell was going on between them. He eavesdropped once passing by a table and heard a rugged man asking for a hitman to hire.

Simon left the table almost running.

Price, the owner of the bar, Simon the Ghost and Gaz the upright man were all friends from military. They served together and they got expelled together when the big brother heard that they went against the orders trying to rescue a bunch of kids from the warzone. To Simon, it was an honor of badge, but military saw it as a dirt under their shoes and kicked them out. The whole thing was infuriating but they were also happy to be out. Simon got his share of horror for a life time.

Simon raised his head when he heard the door opening. It was only 8 pm and he knew they weren’t expecting anybody. No hitman bargain, to his knowledge. And the bar was completely empty other than himself. Then he saw the man coming in.

He was looking no more than a college student, really. He wasn't young, no. But there was an air of carelessness on him. His hair was wet from the rain, which Simon only noticed now, and he used to have a mohawk. Before it got glued into his head because of the wetness. Then he noticed the sea blue eyes looking around like he’s searching for something. Simon stared at them an ungodly amount of time and averted his gaze before the man could realize. Simon’s eyes moved down to his face, stubble around his cheeks and a pair of purple lips -which probably because of the freezing cold. Then he, with sort of amazement, saw that the man was give or take a head shorter than him but broader. In what universe? Simon thought cheekily.

“Hey, mate. Have something to warm me up a bit?” Simon narrowed his eyes with suspicion. He had a Scottish accent under that soothing voice. He didn’t answer. The man was in a bar, he should know that he could order every kind of warmer there.

Instead he just walked up to the counter while leaving wet footprints and scattering water droplets around. Simon felt his eyebrow twitching, he was the one who going to clean these.

“Not much of a talker, are ye? Well, it’s pishin it doon out ‘ere and I’m freezing. Scotch?” Simon hoped he didn’t show it on his face but the only bit he got from this man’s talking was his order. He turned to fill the glass and heard the man talking again.

“I mean it’s raining hard. I could see the gears turning through your eyes. Well, that’s about the only thing I can see. Is wearing a mask come with the bartender job or did I walk into a robbery?”

Simon rolled his eyes while his back was still turned to the man. He served the drink and turned to leave but the man stopped him again. “How much?”

Simon pointed to the board. The man clicked his tongue. “Even the money doesn’t get you talk. Are you mute? Am I being inconsiderate and rude?”

Simon thought about playing mute. He wasn’t planning on talking to customers soon. But he shook his head to indicate that he could talk but he chose not to. Not to him, anyways. And that found its way to the man too. He downed the Scotch and put the money under the glass. There was a crooked smile on his face. “Well, till the next rain then.”

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cumikering · 9 months ago

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Werewolf Keegan x reader 5

3.2k | fluff, suggestive You threatened Keegan with a good time (part 1) (part 6)

Guess who didn’t wipe off your lipstick smudge the rest of the evening. Keegan was into the whole claiming shenanigan more than he thought he did after all.

He smiled to himself as you hiked to the cabin in his jacket. ‘It’s warmer than yours,’ he said, and he was a few seconds away from offering you his beanie. How soon could he make you wear a shirt that said Keegan’s without it being weird?

As part of Raider’s handover process, he had started his training with Gabe. The K9, however, stayed with his handler that weekend because Keegan was taking you on an overnight trip. He figured the cabin was too small for the three of you. That, and he couldn’t find blindfold for dogs.

On the deck next to steaming cups of tea, you had wraps you packed that morning. You leaned onto his shoulder, looking over the city in the distance.

“I miss Raider,” you said longingly. “He’d keep me warm.”

How dare you think he couldn’t keep you warm. Was this a challenge? He pulled you closer. “Are you cold? We can go inside.”

You smiled. “In a bit. Want to watch the sunset with you.”

He moved you to sit between his thighs before putting his beanie on you, tugging it past your eyes. You giggled as you repositioned it. He held your hands and stuffed them in the pockets of your (his) jacket, chin resting on your shoulder.

Against the textured pink backdrop, the sun inched towards the horizon. Keegan nuzzled your neck, his strong arms wrapping around you. The night fell as the golden flares fizzled out and he flicked on the LED lantern. He laid you down on the deck, his hand behind your head, kissing all over your face with his fingers lacing between yours.

“We need to get in! I don’t want the wolf to come by again.”

“Leave some PB sandwiches out as a peace offering,” he said, rubbing his nose against yours.

You laughed. “No, they’re mine and I’m not sharing with anyone.”

“Not even with me?”

“No, all mine.”

He let out a mock gasp. “I’ll have to eat them all when you’re sleeping.”

He got up to his feet before taking your hand to help you up, leading you into the cabin.

“This is the bed?!” you exclaimed, gesturing at the mattress, which was more of a glorified yoga mat, if he was honest.

“I thought I’d warned you.”

“Well, yes, but you didn’t tell me it was this small. How are we going to fit in there?”

We? He melted a little. “It’s yours. I’m taking the floor. There’s an extra blanket here somewhere.”

“You know I won’t let you do that, right? But… I can’t sleep pressed up to you without a shower either!”

Silly you, threatening him with a good time. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

You got cleaned up and climbed into bed in his hoodie and your thickest sweats. With your back against the wall, you lay on his chest.

“You know, the first time you stayed at mine,” you began.

His heart skipped a beat. Oh shit, did you-

“I dreamt of my childhood dog, that he was next to me in bed.”

Oh, thank fuck. “What’s his name?”

“Jake.”

Huh, so that’s what you said.

“He was a huge Newfoundland, fluffy jet black fur, like your hair.” You smiled. “Now you know why I like touching it so much.”

It was official. He wasn’t going to cut his hair ever again.

He slid your hand under his shirt. “You sure it wasn’t just me? I’m pretty hairy too.”

You laughed, pinching his stomach.

“Hey, peanut,” Keegan said, fingers twirling your hair.

“What did you just call me?”

“Peanut, like peanut butter.” My favourite fucking thing.

“At this point the P in your name should just be Peanut.”

He chuckled. “Would you still like me if I was a dog?”

“I think the question is supposed to be worm, not dog.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got no plans of becoming a worm. Dogs though, they chill and nap. It’s always a good time being a dog.”

“You’re making it sound like you do plan on becoming a dog.”

“Look at Raider. He’s always happy, isn’t he?”

“That’s true.”

“So? Would you still like me if I was a dog?”

“Yes, I will. Maybe even more.” You paused. “But don’t shed too much!”

He pressed a kiss against your temple. “I promise I’ll clean up after myself with an industrial-sized lint roller.”

He knew it was silly banter, but the words lulled that little part of his brain, that you’d like the other him anyway. He wanted to soak in it, fantasise that you were staying despite his demanding schedule and sullen silence, that maybe you liked him enough to make it work.

Would you, he wanted to ask. If you wanted to bear it with him, make you promise you’d never leave and be the end of all of this, give him what he never knew he wanted.

But that’s not how life worked, so he didn’t. Not now with his terrible secret anyway.

Comfortable silence filled the room. Your hand was still under his shirt, warm against his fuzzy stomach.

“I might go out for a walk later tonight, so don’t be worried if I’m gone, okay?”

“Don’t get lost.”

He chuckled. “No, you don’t get lost.”

“Touché.”

Keegan held you close as your breathing eventually deepened. When he was sure you were asleep, he carefully removed his arm from under you before tucking you in, kissing you on your forehead.

Outside, the night was still with the crescent moon high in the cloudless sky. He stepped out onto the deck and took a deep breath of the fresh cold air before shifting behind the bushes.

With a content sigh, his wolf rolled on the ground, the dried leaves tickling his back making him pant. He jumped to his paws before running through the woods, revelling in the breeze in his fur. He’d missed this. It was nice to finally stretch his legs after so long.

And that better-than-peanut-butter scent filled him again. He stopped in his tracks and turned back towards the cabin. Uh oh, did he wake you?

Sure enough, you sat on the deck, arms wrapping around your legs as you gazed at the moon with a small smile. He sighed. Oh, you were so pretty. He could, and would, look at you all night. He’d love to come up to you, but you were scared of his wolf. As quietly as he could, he crawled behind the bushes. He could settle for the next best thing for his peanut.

As he pushed his snout against the leaves to peek between them, a twig crunched under him. Your head whipped to his direction, and he ducked and froze in place. Dog logic: if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either.

You leaned back again and began combing through your hair with your fingers. He held his breath, letting your scent breeze pass, but it wouldn’t, and it was his undoing. The leaves rustled as he sat up, panting behind the bushes, front paws padding in eagerness. Why did you have to make it so hard for him?

“Keegan?”

His tail swayed faster. With a whimper, he stuck his head out.

“Oh God, it’s you,” you gasped.

Yes, it’s me!! He hopped out, tail wagging.

“Okay,” you said breathlessly. You stood as slowly as you could. “I guess it’s my fault for going outside. Keegan said you’re friendly, but you’re huge and I’m still very much scared.”

His head tilted. Why did his name sound so good coming out of your mouth?

You backed towards the door. “Respectfully, I don’t mean to be rude at all, but on the off-chance you understand this, would you mind terribly if you keep your distance? Please?”

It was hard to register your words when your scent made his head spin. He crawled towards you, making himself as small as he could as his tail continued to fan behind him. When he got to you, he rubbed the top of his head against your stomach.

“Please don’t bite me,” you said under your breath.

I won’t! At your feet, he rolled onto his back, blocking the door. Give me belly rubs NOW! He waited, his paws folded in front of him, panting. When nothing happened, he lifted his head.

You stood there frozen. He whimpered, high-pitched and desperate. I promise I won’t bite! With a shaky breath, you tentatively reached for his belly. He boofed, tongue lolling.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “I suppose you’re pretty friendly after all.”

I told you! He huffed. Now keep going, please, miss.

You sat down, still scratching him. When you stopped, he lifted his head again. This time you had an amused smile on your face. He flipped over and licked the back of your hand before splaying over your lap.

“You have no idea how big you are, do you?” You laughed, scratching the back of his ears.

He sighed, tilting towards you. Yes, yes, right there. On the brink of falling asleep, his eyes fluttered. I CAN’T. You’d get a heart attack if he shifted back to his bare human form right there.

He straightened up, sitting on your lap as he stared you down with his bright yellow eyes, unblinking, face inches away from you.

You looked away. “C- Can you not do that, please? It’s rude to stare, and I feel you’re going to bite my face off.”

He whimpered, looking down at his paws. It was hard being a misunderstood wolf.

“Thank you.” You ran your fingers down the fur of his neck. “I know Keegan would be laughing if he sees me talking to you.”

His tail trashed again at his name.

“Do you know him?” You chuckled. “Keegan?”

His paws padded on your thighs.

“You do, huh?” You patted his head. “You’re such a sweet boy, very smart too.”

You called him a sweet boy! Could he sprain his tail from excitement? He was going to pass out.

A gust of wind rushed between you, fresh, smelling like dawn. He walked over to the edge of the deck, snout in the air. The rain was coming. Sure enough, the first drop fell.

“Oh, I hope he’s not too far away. I don’t want him to get sick.”

That reminded him. He needed to secure his clothes behind the bushes before they got wet. He nuzzled your neck and licked your hand one last time before disappearing into the woods.

You stood on the deck with your hood drawn tight when Keegan rushed to the cabin with his lantern, rain splotches on his shirt.

“What are you doing out here?” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, guiding you back in. “It’s cold out.”

“You went for a walk with no jacket on.”

“I don’t get cold, you do.”

“Well, then you should have stayed in bed and kept me warm.”

He smiled. “Sorry. I won’t leave again.”

You told him about your encounter with the wolf-dog before quickly falling asleep in his arms.

“Would love to see that handsome boy again. His fur is so soft, like your hair,” you’d mumbled.

It made his imaginary tail wag.

When he left for his next mission days after, Keegan took his beanie and hoodie you wore that night. Sleeping on floors of differing textures didn’t feel so bad when he felt like you were there next to him (on the rare occasions he could tune out Ajax’s snoring). In the field, your handkerchief stayed in his pocket. On his phone, there was now a peanut emoji next to your name.

It was a luxury that he arrived back in the city during the day and finished his debrief before it got dark. With a racing heart, he waited outside your work to pick you up for dinner. It had been too long since he saw you last.

“Keegan!” You gave him a chaste kiss and wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you so much. I love, love it!”

He chuckled, his hands on your shoulders, looking you over. “What?”

“The flowers. They’re my favourite.” You held out the small bouquet, the smile on your face too sweet as your eyes twinkled.

He blinked. “Those aren’t from me.”

“Oh,” you said in a small voice as you took a step back.

He didn’t mean to break your heart, but bitterness pricked.

“There’s no sender, but you got back today and I thought-” You didn’t meet his eyes.

He pulled you to him, kissing your temple. “No, I’m sorry. I should have got you something.”

He didn’t know who those flowers were from, but he could fight. The dude would have to go to war with this jealous spec ops soldier before even dreaming of snatching you, because he sure as hell wasn’t about to let that happen.

He should be flattered you thought it was him when it could have been anyone. He had to step his game up the following weekend. You deserved it.

Time to find new date spots and get you more jackets.

But as luck would have it, that Friday afternoon the familiar heat crawled up his spine. He groaned. His rut was approaching and he knew it was only going to get worse for the next day or two.

I’m coming down with a fever. I don’t think I can meet you tonight, and I might have to cancel the reservation tomorrow. I’m sorry

Bare in bed, Keegan buried his face in one of his beanies you wore, his hips squirming in discomfort, skin damp with sweat. With you in mind, for hours, he did what he could to nurse the distress but as he’d expected, to no avail. It could have been worse really - at least this time his rut came while he was home. Still, he wanted to scream at the thought of the weekend without you.

Fuck this rut. He was supposed to be cuddling on your couch watching a movie, making you laugh with his lame commentary. He should be sleeping next to you, nuzzling your neck with your back pressed to his chest, but there he was instead, stuck at home with his body on fire.He just wanted you. Was that too much to ask for?

He groaned pitifully, not even registering the knock at the door until-

“Keegan?”

He stilled, thinking he was imagining your sweet voice, but you called out again.

“Peanut?” he said to himself. He sat up, swiping his boxers from the floor and stumbling to the door, eyelids heavy.

There you stood in your clothes from work, holding a bag of takeaway with a smile that immediately dropped when your eyes travelled down his flushed, shirtless body.

“Oh dear,” you muttered, looking away. “Am I interrupt- Are you with someone?”

Confused by the crack in your voice, he looked himself over. He wanted to die when he realised what you saw. Fuck. This. Rut.

He pulled you in by the wrist and slammed the door close before bolting into his bedroom. “Give me a second!”

Behind his door, he took deep breaths and willed the situation to go down (it didn’t, of course). But he did his best concealing it in his sweatpants and the baggiest hoodie he owned that felt like the sauna cranked to infinity.

When he emerged out, you were sitting at the table.

“Are you o-“

“I’m so sorry. I swear that happens whenever I get a fever.” He knelt beside you, gripping your hands.

You stared at him for a few seconds before letting out a chuckle. “You don’t look good.” You pushed the clumps of hair off his wet forehead.

His head thumped, skin scalding, but your scent swirling around him dulled the ache. Ever the sweet little thing, you surprised him with a visit, even brought him food to his den. Did you know you were playing a dangerous game?

His fingers grasped your chin as he leaned in. Thinking it was a peck, you pulled away after a beat but he pressed on, arm wrapping around your waist, making you giggle. You were intoxicating even that your shirt carried faint scents of others too. What a nuisance. You needed that off.

He led to his bed and pulled you on top of him, cupping your cheek.

“It’s your fault if I get sick too.” You smiled against his lips.

He knew you wouldn’t, but he couldn’t help wonder what would happen if you did magically catch the same illness, and if you’d be able to keep your hands off him, if he would be able to keep his off you if you couldn’t. His fingers dug into your waist at the thought.

“I think about kissing you a lot. Way too often,” he said breathlessly, eyes closed.

You pulled at the fabric stuck to his skin. “Do you want to get changed? You’re sweating so much.”

He pulled his hoodie off in a swift motion, not caring where he tossed it. “Miss you too much.” His eyes flickered close again. “Just… Stay. Need you here.”

You lay next to him with your head propped up, wiping his face and chest with the small towel on the nightstand. Your fingers went to his hair.

He let out a satisfied sigh.

“You love scratches, don’t you?”

“Love when you touch me,” he rasped.

Your fingers trailed down his neck and chest, dancing over the rise and fall of him, slowing the closer they travelled south. He could feel his own heartbeat as chills ran down his spine, his breath growing shorter. Eyes half-lidded, he tugged your fingers just a hair lower.

An invitation. A plea.

Keegan woke with your back to him, wrapped tight in the comforter you hogged all night. You’d changed into one of his shirts and sweats, your feet sticking out from the burrito you’d rolled yourself into. He got up to grab a pair of socks, and as he put them on you, he realised his head had stopped spinning. His fever was gone.

Last night, he recalled, with the blush over your face and the way your chest heaved, you couldn’t meet his gaze. Even through fluttering lids, he didn’t miss how your eyes raked over him, over and over, your lips parted. Your touch lingered the rest of the night until sleep took him: breathless, but floating with the glow in his chest.

He chuckled softly at the sight of you sleeping so peacefully, leaning in to kiss your temple, and he lingered over you. The morning had started spilling into the room, golden against your perfect face, your pretty lashes fanned over your cheeks. The lips he never got tired of kissing curled into the faintest smile. He sighed.

Keegan chose this path to make use of soul he was granted, for a purpose. He put his life on the line to fight, to protect what he loved. He never knew what it was until then.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @dead-cipher @synnicall

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suddencolds · 10 months ago

Text

The Worst Timing | [2/?]

happy (late) new year :') after a month (and a lot of editing and dissatisfaction), i am back with part 2 of the 'yves has had too easy of a time' series (6.4k words). you can read [part 1] here!

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

When they get to the hotel Aimee’s booked for them, it’s already late enough to be dark out. Yves helps unload their suitcases from the back, while Leon loads them up onto a luggage cart.

It’s an exceptionally nice hotel—picturesque brick walls, glossy windows all in a row, slanted red rooftops rising up into the sky. He’d looked at it briefly when Aimee consulted him about the bookings, but it looks even more like a castle in person, like something straight out of a storybook. Yves will have to remember to thank Aimee and Genevieve again for picking such a nice place for them to stay at.

They check in at the lobby. Yves makes sure the suitcases make their way up to Leon and Victoire’s room, which is on his and Vincent’s floor, but at the other end of the hallway. (“Don’t be late to breakfast tomorrow,” he tells them, sternly, and Leon—who has slept through his alarms for as long as Yves has lived with him—laughs. “I’m especially talking to you,” Yves adds, looking straight at him).

Then he wheels the luggage cart down the hallway. “I’m so ready to crash,” he says, to Vincent. “It’s been a long day. Are you tired?”

“I’ll be tired once I lay down,” Vincent says. He carefully extricates one of the key cards and holds it out to the door card reader.

The interior of the hotel room is a little colder than the hallway is. Vincent flicks on the light, slips the key card back into its designated slot, and leaves his shoes in a neat line at the door. Yves follows him in.

Their room is a standard suite—there’s a small sitting area just next to the entrance, a bathroom off to the side, and a door frame—though not a proper door—which leads to the bedroom. On the far end, translucent white curtains give way to a sliding door which opens up to the balcony. It’s a nice room, Yves thinks, with a nice view of the rest of the hotel, its pool and gardens, the circular sun umbrellas stretching out floors below them. It’s only when Vincent hesitates, standing in the bedroom, that Yves realizes what’s wrong.

The bedroom has a singular queen-sized bed, and nothing else.

Of course. It makes sense for this to be the living arrangement, if they’re really dating.

“I can take the couch,” Yves says, clearing his throat, which doesn’t feel any better than it did earlier.

Vincent turns to look at him.

“I mean, this whole pretend-relationship thing doesn’t have to extend to us sharing a bed.”

Mentally, he kicks himself for not having the foresight to predict this. Just because Vincent is fine with putting on a show in front of his friends—and in this case, family—doesn’t mean that Vincent will be fine sharing a bed with him when they’re in private.

“You can have the bed,” Vincent says. “The bed will probably be warmer.”

Whether that’s a comment about how Yves has been too cold all day, or whether it’s just an offhanded appraisal which has nothing to do with him, Yves doesn’t know.

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I don’t mind the sofa. Besides, hotels usually have extra blankets. I’m sure they’re just hidden in some drawer somewhere.”

He rummages through a few of the cabinets and looks through the closet until he finds what he’s looking for—a feather comforter, folded neatly on the top shelf. He takes it down, keeping it folded under his arm.

“See,” he says, flashing Vincent a smile. “I’ll be perfectly warm, like this.” Vincent still looks a little unconvinced. “You should wake me if you’re not,” he says. “I don’t mind switching.”

“Duly noted,” Yves says, even though he has no intention of waking Vincent for any reason.

“The couch probably extends into a pull-out bed,” Vincent says, already heading back into the living room. “It should be more comfortable. I can help you set it up.”

“I can do it,” Yves says. All this talking is not helping with his throat. Worse, somewhere over the course of the past couple hours, there’s a faint tickle that’s managed to settle into his sinuses.

“It’s the least I can do, if I’m taking the bed,” Vincent says.

Yves is about to say more, but he finds that he really needs to sneeze. He lifts his arm to his face, his eyes watering, his breath hitching—

“Hh-! hHehh’IIZSCHh-IIEW!”

“Bless you,” Vincent calls, from the next room over.

“Thanks,” Yves says, turning into his shoulder with a small cough. His breath hitches again, irritatingly. “hHeh-! HEHH’IiITSHHiEW! snf-!”

When he heads into the living room, Vincent is already almost done setting up the pull-out bed. Yves helps him lock down the legs of the frame.

“Thanks,” Yves says, fluffing out the blanket he’s holding so that he can lay it out over the mattress. “All set up.”

He looks the bed over. It looks inviting enough—a little smaller than the bed in the bedroom, the mattress thinner, but fluffy and clean regardless. Vincent steps past him to duck into the bedroom and emerges a moment later, carrying two pillows.

“Are these your pillows?” Yves says.

“They’re yours now.”

“I can sleep without pillows.”

“They gave me two sets, anyways,” Vincent says. “I wouldn’t have made use of these ones.”

“Okay.” Tentatively, Yves takes a seat at the edge of the mattress. From the doorway, he gets a limited view of the bedroom—he can see the curtains at the far end, the desk pushed up against the wall, and the very foot of the bed. “Do you think this is what couples do when they’re traveling and they get in a fight?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Vincent asks.

“It might as well be,” Yves says.

“If your family walks in and sees that I’ve banished you to the sofa, I don’t think I’ll ever be forgiven,” Vincent says, so seriously that it almost doesn’t register as a joke. Yves laughs.

“You can just say I snore,” he says. “Or, worse. Maybe I kick you in my sleep.”

“Do you?”

Yves doesn’t—at least, he’s been told he doesn’t—but it’s of no consequence. They’re not going to be sharing a bed. “Luckily for you, you won’t have to find out.”

He gets settled—sets his suitcase out on one of the side tables, sets out all his toiletries in the bathroom, puts the clothes he’s planning to wear for tomorrow in a neat stack, and hangs up the suit he’s going to wear for the wedding in the closet. He’d been careful folding it, but he’ll probably have to give it another good iron before the wedding date. By the time he has everything accounted for, the bathroom door is closed, and the shower’s running.

The hotel has left them a couple bottles of water on the nightstand but he heads downstairs to buy a couple more from the on-site convenience store on the first floor. Victoire had them exchange dollars for euros at the airport, which Yves thinks he might have forgotten to do in their haste. Even though she’s the youngest of the three of them, sometimes he thinks she is the one with the most common sense.

He strikes up a brief conversation with the cashier, in French that he thinks is fairly fluent but probably accented—it’s been awhile since he’s gotten any practice with it. His speaking is good, but there are some colloquialisms and some idioms that he’s not familiar with and ends up having to ask about.

By the time he gets back up to the bedroom, bottled waters in hand, Vincent is done showering, his hair still a little damp.

“I got us extra waters,” Yves says. “There’s a convenience store down on the first floor.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.” He looks nice, even with his hair damp, even though he’s wearing just a t-shirt and shorts to sleep, Yves thinks, and then immediately tables that thought.

“It was nice to stretch my legs,” Yves says. “And nice to have a chance to practice my French. My relatives are going to be disappointed in me if I sound worse than I did last year.”

“Are you fluent?”

“Fluent enough to hold a proper conversation. Not fluent enough to not sound like a foreigner. I grew up speaking French and English, but obviously in the states, there aren’t as many opportunities to practice French.”

“I don’t think you would have lost much of it,” Vincent says, as if from experience.

Yves laughs. “For my own sake, let’s hope not.”

When he steps into the bathroom, the mirror is still fogged up from the steam. He swipes a hand over the glass to clear enough of it so that he can see.

He looks fine, still, at least outwardly—a little tired, maybe, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by. There’s a faint flush to his complexion, too, which is strange, because he doesn’t feel like he has a fever. He’s just a little colder than usual, is all.

All in all, he still looks passable. At first glance, it doesn’t seem very evident that anything is wrong at all.

He takes a shower, cranks the water up until it’s almost scalding, and stands under the hot water, shutting his eyes. The warmth is a welcome change. It’s the first time today that he’s been really, properly warm—if only because he’s turned the water up a couple degrees higher than he usually has it at.

The water splashes over his shoulders. He leans his head back, taking in a deep breath of the steam.

It’s fine. It will be fine. He’ll drink tons of water, take all the vitamin C he can find, and sleep this off tonight. He’ll be good as new tomorrow.

—

When Yves blinks awake, it’s still dark out.

The first thing that registers to him is that he’s cold.

What started off as a slight headache has turned into something much worse—his head is throbbing, and even with the blanket, he’s freezing. The air conditioning in the room is on—he can hear the low hum of it through the vents—and everything feels unbearably frigid. Even the bedsheets, which are at the very least warm from his body heat, seem to always be losing heat, unpleasantly, when he shifts.

When he checks his phone, the time onscreen is 3:45 am. Too late to call the front desk and ask them to send up more blankets, probably—even if they are technically in operation, he doesn’t want to be that one asshole to ask for a favor at this time of day.

He’ll ask tomorrow, he thinks, at a more reasonable hour. It’s almost morning, anyways. Maybe if he manages to get back to sleep, he won’t feel the cold as much.

There’s a dull pressure to his sinuses, a slight tickle that seems only to sharpen as he rubs his nose. His breath catches, too quickly for him to do anything to attend to the subsequent—

“Hheh—! hHEHH’iISHHhi-iEw!”

Fuck. The sneeze is loud enough to echo a little within the confines of the living room. Vincent is in the next room over. Vincent is asleep, presumably, like Yves should be.

And Yves’s nose is starting to tickle again.

He raises the blankets to his face, presses his nose to them to muffle the next—

“hhEH— hehh’IZschhH-IIEW! snf-!”

The sound is marginally quieter this time, muffled into the cotton, but it’s far from silent. He hopes, desperately, that it’s quiet enough, or that Vincent is a heavy enough sleeper for it not to matter. There isn’t even a proper door between them.

He reaches up to swipe a hand over his eyes. How did this get so bad so quickly? His head feels heavy, and every sneeze that tears through him is harsh enough to scrape at his already-raw throat—whatever hope he’d had for sleeping it off seems to be diminishing with every passing minute.

He listens, for a moment, for anything: any shifting from the room over, any motion, any footsteps. But to his relief, there’s nothing.

His head is swimming. Worse, he still has to sneeze. The tissue box is on the nightstand in the bedroom Vincent is in, but Yves thinks that it would be too unwise to make a trip right now and risk waking Vincent up a good three hours before sunrise.

“hHh-! hhH-!...”

Fuck. He stays frozen like that, for a moment, one hand hovering over his nose and mouth. His nose tickles, badly, kept just narrowly on edge. It feels like one wrong breath would be enough to set off a sneeze, but sometimes it seems to evade him at the last second—he can’t seem to get his body to settle on something decisive. “hhHEh-!”

The sneeze is unexpected, when it comes, at last—loud and forceful and vicious.

“hehH’NGKT’shhH’EEW!”

A short burst of pain shoots through his temples. Yves can’t claim he’s ever been good at stifling, and this attempt is no exception. It’s not much quieter than the others, even muffled into his pillow, and the attempt to stifle has only made the pressure in his head feel worse.

“Hheh… hh-!” He sniffles. His eyes are watering so much he thinks they might spill over. “hHeh… hh-hHih-HEHh’DJJSHh’iEEW!”

This one he muffles into his hands, ducking forward into his chest. The relief he feels from letting out the sneeze is unfortunately short-lived. He’s nowhere close to done. He can feel it, in the tickle in his nose which refuses to let up, in the pressure to his sinuses which only seems to worsen with each sneeze.

For a moment, Yves contemplates spending the rest of the night just outside their room, out in the hallway. It will almost certainly be colder, he would be quieter there, at the very least—there would be a proper door and a wall between him and Vincent, and that’s something, isn’t it?

Before he can seriously consider it, he’s snapping forward at the waist, muffling another loud sneeze into the covers.

“hhHeh-iIDDSHHhh’YyiiEW!”

He finds himself coughing, after, muffling the coughs tightly into the feather blanket in an attempt to cough more quietly. He shivers, huddling deeper into the covers. His head is pounding. Every time he swallows, sharp, hot pain lances his throat.

He hears nothing from the room over, even when he listens carefully. This much is a relief—truthfully, he would feel awful if he were keeping Vincent up because of this. Yves has survived on less sleep—back in university, 6am crew practice meant waking up early even when he’d been up late to finish projects or coursework, or otherwise out late with friends—but the thought of keeping Vincent up makes something uncomfortable settle in his stomach. Vincent hadn’t slept at all during the flight. He must be tired, now. The last thing he needs—after the stress of being surrounded by strangers in a foreign country, after traveling for almost 10 hours straight, after being assigned to room with his coworker, of all people—is to be woken up at an ungodly hour just because Yves can’t keep this damn cold under wraps.

Yves thinks he should try to sleep too, if only because it means he won’t be awake to succumb to the next sneeze that threatens to tear through him.

But if he’s entirely honest with himself, he’s not sure if sleep is going to come to him anytime soon.

—

Yves doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to his 7:30am alarm so tired that he feels like he hasn’t slept at all

“Morning,” Vincent says, emerging in the doorway. He’s fully dressed already, his shirt crisply ironed, the collar upright, his hair neatly styled.

“You’re fast,” Yves says. His voice sounds a little hoarse—all the sneezing last night probably hasn’t done it any favors. But if Vincent can tell that it sounds off, he doesn’t say. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not really,” Vincent says. “We have time.”

“Give me a few minutes to get ready,” Yves says, hauling himself out of bed. “I’ll be out in five.”

He changes in record speed, washes his face, brushes his teeth, and stuffs everything he can see himself needing into a backpack to take down to breakfast.

When he emerges, Vincent is waiting for him in the hallway.

“How did you sleep?” Yves asks.

“Fine,” Vincent says. “You?”

“I slept well enough,” Yves says, before muffling a yawn into his hand. At Vincent’s pointed glance at him, he adds, “I’m just a little tired. It’s probably jetlag. It’s what, like, 2am over in New York?”

“1:42,” Vincent says, checking his watch. “Is your whole family going to be at breakfast?”

“I’m not sure if everyone’s up,” Yves says. “But Leon and Victoire will be. I told them to be downstairs by 8, so obviously they’ll kill me if I’m not there first.”

The breakfast lounge is on the first floor, a few hallways down from the reception desk. Yves saves a table for them.

He isn’t very hungry, for some reason. Still, he fills his plate with breakfast pastries and scrambled eggs and grabs a cup of hot tea while he’s at it. He really doesn’t want to lose his voice entirely before the ceremony. Even with his jacket on—which is probably even excessive, considering the temperature of the lobby—he isn’t as warm as he’d like to be.

Victoire joins them next. She waves to Vincent as she passes. “Hope you guys got some sleep,” she says innocently.

Yves says, “We got perfectly good sleep, thank you.”

“Morning,” Leon says, appearing in the doorway at 7:59.

“You’re really cutting it close,” Yves says, sniffling.

“It’s 7:59,” Leon says. “Whether I’m on time is a binary, not a sliding scale. I’m entirely on time.”

The table Yves picked can fit more than four, so they spread themselves out through the seats. “Mom and dad said they’re having breakfast at one of the cafes nearby,” Victoire says, shrugging her sweater off and leaving it perched on the back of her seat. “They said they’d report back if it’s anything life changing.”

“There’s a welcome party tonight,” Yves says to Vincent, “For everyone who’s flown in. You’ll get to meet them then.”

“Is there anything your parents hate in a partner?” Vincent asks.

“Don’t worry too much. I don’t think— hEHh…” Yves scoots back from the table turning away as he reaches blindly for one of the cocktail napkins he’d taken. “HEHh’DDJJSHh-iiEW! Ugh, sorry.” His nose has been running all morning—he’d made sure to take a generous stack, and stuff some of them into his pockets for later, but it’s been all of fifteen minutes and he’s already nervous that he might run out. “I don’t you could get them to hate you even if you tried.”

“Mom and dad met in college, at a bar,” Leon says. Yves, who has heard this story many times before, busies himself with eating, and tries hard not to visibly shiver. In a way, he’s grateful to the two of them for filling in the space for him—the less he strains his voice today, the better. “Mom was super drunk, and for some reason when she started talking to dad the conversation topic turned to, like, something super specific and not at all romantic.”

“It was whether or not it’s ethical to clone extinct species,” Victoire says, idly folding her napkin into a pinwheel. “Though this was before it had ever been done.”

“Apparently she was drunk enough to ask his hand in marriage mid argument, and he was drunk enough to say yes, because he thought it was a joke,” Leon says. “And it was a joke. But he proposed to her seriously a year later, and all she said was ‘at least you kept your promise.’”

“But now they’re happily married,” Vincent says.

Leon nods. “They’ve been happily married for almost thirty years now. Anyways, my point is that whatever relationship you have with Yves, you don’t have to try and impress them. There’s no need to overthink it.”

“I understand,” Vincent says. “My parents got married because my dad did well in a business competition at the time, and my mom thought he was going to make a lot of money.”

“And how did that turn out?” Victoire says, interested, propping her head up on one hand.

Yves watches Vincent cut a pastry into four even pieces. “Better than you might expect,” Vincent says.

—-

The welcome dinner is held at a local restaurant—Aimee and Genevieve have rented out the outdoor space for seating. The table—a long table that seats thirty, or so—is set with tall, elegant white candles, all in a row; wine glasses with delicate stems; vases spilling over with flowers—lilacs, pink and white roses, orchids.

Above them, string lights are strung up in neat lines. When Yves sees Aimee, he doesn’t drop all of his things to run over and hug her, but it’s a close thing.

“Yves! You made it,” she says.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he tells her, in French. “God. Did you plan out all of this? It looks gorgeous.” “Genevieve did a lot of it,” she says. “She has a good eye for decorations.”

Genevieve is off to the side, talking to someone who Yves recognizes as her sister—Yves follows Aimee’s gaze over to where she’s standing. When he looks back, Aimee is smiling in a way Yves has never seen her smile before—the sort of fond, private smile that he feels like he isn’t sure he’s supposed to be seeing.

Yves is stricken, for a moment. It’s so clear that she’s in love. It shows all over her face, plainly, the kind of love that’s uncontestable; the kind of love that makes love, of all things, look simple. Has he ever looked like that, to someone else?

“How have you been?” he asks. “I imagine preparations have been hectic.”

“Never better,” she says, turning back to face him at last. “You’re right—it’s been exhausting. But I feel like the adrenaline is carrying me through, you know? Like I’m so happy this is happening.”

“You two deserve a perfect wedding,” Yves says, and means it. He clears his throat, sniffling. It’s a little cold out, even though the sun hasn’t gone down yet; he really hopes his nose doesn’t start to run visibly. “If you ever need any help—with last minute preparations, or if anything comes up, or if you need someone on transportation or moving things—let me know. Even if it’s like, 3am or something. My hands are completely free.”

She laughs. “Thank you, that’s so kind of you to offer! It has been hectic, but I haven’t been up at 3am this week, thank God.”

“I hope to keep it that way.” Yves turns away from her, raising an arm to muffle a fit of coughs into his sleeve.

Aimee takes a step forward, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay? You sound a little off. And you’re coughing.”

And Yves thinks: she can’t know. He has his toasts to give at her wedding. He has the wedding rehearsal tomorrow and the wedding ceremony on Saturday to attend. If Aimee finds out he’s coming down with something, she’ll probably tell him to sit things out—to get some proper rest, to disregard virtually everything she has planned, and to not leave the hotel room until he’s feeling a hundred percent better—even if it’s at her own expense.

Worse, she’ll be worried for the entirety of his illness, he’s sure. As if she doesn’t have enough on her plate already, between the setup and all the accommodations and the last minute changes.

Aimee deserves a perfect wedding.

That’s the bottom line in all of this. This is a once in a lifetime thing for someone he cares and cares deeply about. Yves is not going to ruin it. He’ll get through the next few days, even if it means pushing himself a little past his limits. He can crash afterwards, on the plane ride home, after all the festivities are over and everyone bids farewell.

“I’m fine,” Yves says, clearing his throat. “I’m—” This is really the worst possible timing. He takes a few steps back, craning his neck over his shoulder. “hH-! hHhh’kKTSSH-IEEW! snf-! Ugh. I’mb just getting over a slight cold.” Getting over might be a bit of a stretch, and a slight cold might be even more of one, but other than that, it’s not entirely dishonest.

Aimee frowns at him. “Bless you. Does your throat hurt? There are cocktails on the side table, if you want anything to drink. Wine, too. I can get something for you if you’d like.”

“Nice try, but there’s no way I’m letting the bride go and get things for me,” Yves says, grinning. “Do you want any cocktails?”

“I need to be sober until I’ve officially said hi to everyone,” she says. “Can’t make a fool of myself just yet. Speaking of which, where’s your boyfriend?”

Yves waves Vincent over. “Come say hi!” he says, in English.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Vincent says, in slightly accented French, which is a surprise. He seems to hesitate, thinking hard. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Oh my gosh!” Aimee says in English, pulling him close for a hug. Vincent hugs her back. “It’s good to meet you too, Vincent. Thanks for always looking after Yves. I’m glad to have someone keeping him out of trouble overseas.”

“Thank you for having me here,” Vincent says, hugging her back. “I know it was really last minute with the flight and everything. I hope it wasn’t too stressful for you.”

“It was no trouble at all!” Aimee says. “Yves is like a younger brother to me. Last summer was pretty rough for him, I think.” she doesn’t mention Erika, but Yves is sure Vincent knows what she’s referring to, regardless. Aimee smiles, a little wistfully. “I’m just so grateful that he met you. I’m glad to see him happy again.”

“I don’t think I can take credit for that,” Vincent says, blinking.

Aimee smiles warmly at him. “He’s the happiest he’s been in months,” she says. “I think you are selling yourself short.”

After Aimee asks Vincent how his stay has been (good, Vincent says, it’s actually my first time in France, to which Aimee excitedly lists off places he absolutely has to see while he’s here) and Vincent asks Aimee how the wedding preparations are going (nothing’s gone terribly wrong yet, Aimee laughs, which I suppose is all I can ask for), they find their way to their seats at the table. Someone has set out little name cards with all of their names written in calligraphy. Yves realizes, faintly, that the handwriting isn’t Aimee’s. Maybe it’s Genevieve’s, then.

“I didn’t know you knew any French,” Yves tells Vincent, in English.

Vincent looks away, a little sheepish. “I took a crash course into it when you mentioned the wedding would be in France,” he says, which Yves finds somehow disproportionately endearing. “I know maybe five sentences total, plus a few common terms.”

“Five sentences is impressive given that you had, what, just a few weeks to learn them?”

“I’m not sure if they are very coherent,” Vincent says. “The vowels are different from English. I’m still trying to get the hang of saying them.”

Yves is about to respond, but he’s cut off with a sharp, unexpected gasp. He pitches forward, raising his elbow up to his face just in time to muffle a—

“Hh… HhEHH-!’IihH’DZSCHh-IIEW!”

He’s glad, for once, that he’s not wearing the suit he’s planning on wearing for the wedding. His nose is running again, which is embarrassing, especially because he can still feel Vincent’s eyes on him.

“À tes souhaits,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs, rummaging through his jacket pockets for one of the napkins he’d taken at breakfast to blow his nose into. “Merci. Is that one of the common terms you learned?”

“No,” Vincent says. “I looked it up last night.”

“Last night?” Yves asks.

For a moment, he’s afraid that Vincent might reveal to him that Yves had kept him up last night, after all, despite all of his efforts to keep quiet.

“On the car,” Vincent clarifies. “During the trip to the hotel. I was just curious.”

“Oh,” Yves says, relieved. He blows his nose into the napkin he’s holding, which he’s sure he has reused at least a couple times already—but with his nose running so much, he doesn’t exactly have the luxury to be picky. “Well, you’ll be an expert at saying that phrase by the end of this trip, at the very least.”

It’s easy to lose himself in the throes of conversation, after that. Aimee and Genevieve have arranged it so that he and Vincent are sitting directly across from his parents. Leon is right—his parents have never really been the type to subject the partners he’s brought home, over the years, to any sort of interrogation. It’s a fun night, especially after everyone’s a couple drinks in.

“I think it’s a good thing that you guys are in the same line of work,” Yves’s dad says, conversationally. “Yves won’t have to explain why he’s always working overtime.”

Yves’s mom says, “Isn’t that a bad thing? We shouldn’t be encouraging their workaholic tendencies.”

Yves neglects to mention that he’s pretty sure Vincent (who worked the entire flight here)’s workaholic tendencies will persist, even without any encouragement.

Vincent tells them how they’d met—it’s the same story as he’d told the first time they’d done this, during Margot’s new year party a few months back, but Yves’s parents seem to find it extremely entertaining.

Yves’s mom says, “I told you Yves was the one who asked him out.”

Yves’s dad says, “I didn’t know if he had it in him.”

Yves’s mom says, “I remember hearing him say something about having an attractive coworker. It wasn’t that much of a logical stretch to assume he’d make a move at some point.”

(Yves thinks he sees them exchange a twenty dollar bill under the table, but he can’t be sure.)

Vincent practices his French with Yves’s parents—Yves fills in for him when he stumbles on a word, or when he hesitates, wracking his memory for a term he can’t quite translate.

“A fantastic attempt,” his dad says, when Vincent is done talking. “I can’t believe you learned so much in just a few weeks. I can only hope you’ll keep learning..”

“I will,” Vincent says. “Maybe next time we can have this conversation entirely in French.” There’s no uncertainty to the way he says it. Yves doesn’t mention that there’s a real chance Vincent won’t see them again, after this. It’s not a thought he particularly wants to confront.

At some point, Leon rises to his feet and shouts, in French, “Let’s toast to Aimee and Genevieve, everyone’s favorite couple!”

They all stand and raise their glasses. Yves finds he feels a little unsteady on his feet—maybe he’s had too much to drink. He feels warm, through the flush of alcohol in his cheeks, despite the evening chill.

He’s marginally worse at covering when he’s tipsy—and worse, too, at anticipating that he’s going to sneeze in the first place. At some point during the night, someone—maybe Vincent, or maybe one of Aimee’s friends from work that are seated nearby—sets down a stack of cocktail napkins in front of him.

Yves just hopes whoever’s put it there knows how grateful he is. The night is getting colder, even though he can’t quite feel it, and his nose is running so much that he finds himself grabbing a new napkin every couple minutes to blow his nose. It’s strange, he thinks, how such a small thing can be so comforting.

At some point, too, Vincent takes the glass of wine out of his hands and switches it out with a different glass. Yves thinks it might be a cocktail, at first, but when he takes a sip, he finds it’s just orange juice.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” Vincent says.

“I haved’t had that much,” Yves says. But come to think of it, his head feels hazy in a way that suggests he’s just a little drunk. “Just a couple— glasses— hh-! hHhEH’IIZSCHh’iIEw! snf-!” He barely manages to cover that sneeze in time.

“Bless you,” Vincent says.

“Ugh.” Yves reaches for another napkin from the stack. He feels a little dizzy, now that he’s paying attention. “I swear, my toleradce - snf-! - used to be a lot better before I graduated.”

Vincent hides a laugh behind one hand. Yves is too tipsy to pretend he doesn’t find that a little endearing.

“What?” he asks, faux-affronted.

“Nothing,” Vincent says. “I should’ve known that you went to parties and drank irresponsibly.”

Yves laughs. “Along with every other college student in the world.” He turns aside to muffle a cough into his sleeve. Perhaps he hasn’t been especially conscientious about saving his voice this evening—with all the talking he’s been doing, it will probably sound even worse tomorrow. “What, don’t tell me you’ve ndever gotten irresponsibly drunk!”

“Once or twice,” Vincent says, which is a bit of a surprise—he can’t imagine Vincent being drunk enough to lose the air of… well, composure isn’t the right word, perhaps. Professionalism? Self-assuredness? But maybe even drunk Vincent is professional and self-assured, all the same. Yves wonders, faintly, if he’ll ever have the chance to find out.

—

Dinner winds down slowly. Yves helps Genevieve collect all the name cards, gathers everyone’s plates to set them in a couple neat stacks at the end of the table, says hello to the relatives he’s closer to, and strikes up a conversation with some of Genevieve’s friends, who look to be just a few years older than he is. They talk first about the planning she’d kept them in the loop about, and then about the planning that she’d pulled off behind the scenes. Yves tells them about the many aesthetic and managerial decisions Aimee had consulted him for early on over text. The common consensus seems to be that Aimee and Genevieve are vastly overqualified when it comes to making sure that everything is logistically sound.

“Do you want to head out soon?” Vincent says, after some time, when Yves returns to his seat and some of the other guests have begun to filter out.

“That might be a good idea,” Yves says.

He says his goodbyes—to his parents, to Leon and Victoire, to Aimee and Genevieve, whom he’ll see tomorrow. Then he follows Vincent out. The hotel is a fifteen minute walk from where they are—some of their relatives have cars, but they’d walked here, and Yves thinks it’d be more work to try to coordinate a ride with someone.

Everything feels bright, Yves thinks, blinking.

“You’re cold,” Vincent says. It isn’t a question.

Yves realizes, faintly, that he’s shivering. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t feel it that much.”

“That’s because you’re drunk.”

“I’m ndot drunk.”

“Tipsy, then.”

Yves can’t argue with that. “Just a bit. I’ll probably— hhEh-!” He turns aside to direct the sneeze over his shoulder, away from Vincent. HH-! hHEHh’iIITSHh-IIEw! Snf-! —sober up soon.” The end of the sentence catches wrong on his throat and suddenly he’s coughing, a little harshly, into his wrist. The coughing fit is harsh enough to leave him faintly lightheaded, which is a surprise to him.

He thinks it shouldn’t be visible, but Vincent reaches out and grabs his shoulder to steady him. For a moment, Yves contemplates how nice it would be to lean into his touch.

Then he catches himself. He’s tired, but not so tired that he can’t sustain a short walk from the dinner venue to the hotel. It’s dark, but they don’t have any early obligations tomorrow, and it’s not late enough that he won’t have time to shower, get changed, and get a good night’s sleep, with time to spare.

Yves shifts out of Vincent’s touch. “Sorry about that,” he says, with the most convincing smile he can muster. He’s sure Vincent would be understanding if he brought it up, but truthfully, it feels like a waste of time to say anything at all.

Vincent doesn’t reach for him again, but his eyebrows furrow. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“You almost fell,” Vincent says.

“I just tripped. The roads aren’t very even, and it’s dark.” They’re standing in the middle of a small, winding cobblestone street. None of the roads around here are very flat for very long.

“Are you saying that because you believe it?” Vincent says. “Or are you saying that so that I stop worrying about this?”

Yves stares at him for a moment too long. He’s sobering up a little.

For a moment, he contemplates telling Vincent everything—about how tired he’s been, all day. About how much it’s taken out of him to keep up this front, the whole day; about how he feels worse than he did waking up this morning—tired and cold and congested, a little unsteady on his feet. If he’s not mistaken, he thinks he might be running a slight fever; it’s hard to tell through the jacket, through the brisk evening air.

Maybe Vincent would understand. Maybe Vincent would insist that he get some rest, tomorrow, before the wedding. Maybe Vincent would tell him that this is all going to be fine—that this wedding that Yves’s been looking forward to for months, that he desperately doesn’t want to mess up, is going to be perfect, just as Aimee and Genevieve has planned it, even if he isn’t feeling his best.

But this is not Vincent’s problem to solve. Yves’s bad timing and his unfortunate circumstances are not Vincent’s responsibility, and Yves extended the invitation because he wanted Vincent to have fun on this trip, and no part of that entails having to look after Yves. Vincent has always been reliable, but Yves can’t start to expect things out of him—to take his kindness as a given, to take more than Vincent is willing to give.

He already asks more than enough of Vincent, as it stands.

“I’m fine,” Yves says, a lie, as easily as any other lie he’s ever told. The smile that follows comes easily, too, though he’s not sure if Vincent can see it in the dark, can’t tell if it’s more to fool Vincent or more to fool himself. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

[ Part 3 ]

#sneeze fic #snz fic #snz kink #snz #i edited this for a week straight #and now i have given up officially #i hope this doesn't feel too much like a filler/otherwise uneventful 😭#next chapter i promise yves is in for a bad time #yvverse #my fic

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