#door saga part 2

[gundamplanet]

[velvetjune]

Door and Alan’s interactions are sooo good. outside of the great acting and range of emotion, their characters really balance out each other in their similarities. it’s fun watching how two people outside of their own realities with questionable intentions and power interact. Their ‘I want to murder you with my mind—But first let’s sing and dance in a musical number’ behavior

[theskoomacat]

every time i hear Tim humming i'm completely like

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hey, hun is it possible to do a part 3 of Muzan with reader with big boobs or even do a version with Kokushibo please?🥺

*runs to her laptop so fast she breaks the sound barrier*

Yup!

(I'm just gonna do Muzan for right now- I'm kinda struggling to figure out Koky's character)

NSFW below the cut.

Also, for those who haven't read it, here is PART 1 and PART 2 of the Muzan x boobs saga.

MUZAN x boobs pt 3.

You're not exactly sure when the Infinity Castle became your permanent residence but you never seem to leave anymore.

In the beginning, Muzan would always come to your place for his titty sucking stress relief sessions, but if there's one thing the Demon King truly despises it's minor inconvenience.

So, you're lying on a plush pillow, reading one of his botany books in a cozy room of the castle when the sliding door flies open with so much force it smashes against the wall. Splinters of wood rain down onto the floor.

You don't even flinch. You're used to his tempers by now.

He's back from his trip to Asakusa and grumbling about hanafuda earrings and sun breathers

"Tits. Now."

You pull open your kimono with one hand, not even looking up from your book.

(If you wore bras before you've given up by now; Muzan just shreds them to bits anyway and those bitches are expensive.)

He moves with supernatural speed, and before you can even blink he's taken your place on the pillow and you're sat straddling him.

Then he pulls your upper half down on top of him, completely smothering him with your chest.

You're still engrossed in the book as he slowly licks around your areola, following the path of ridges and bumps before tickling your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

A shiver runs through your body but you keep reading, because you just got up to the chapter about the strange blue flowers which you used to weave into crowns at your grandmother's house when you were little and-

He snatches the book from your hands and tosses it across the room and into the fireplace, emerging from between your breasts to glare at you.

Muzan is just as shocked as you are by his apparent annoyance at your lack of attention. Why should he care if you're enjoying it or not? This is for his satisfaction, not yours... and yet...

He makes it his mission then to make sure you cannot ignore him.

He sucks your tits with such ferocity you feel tingles all the way down your spine and throbbing at your core.

Grips your wrists and pins your hands to the pillow above his head so your tits are hanging in his face; soft and defenceless against his wicked tongue.

He groans as he bends a knee to wedge his thigh between yours, applying such delicious pressure.

Kneads your tits with his slender fingers, trailing his pointed fingernails lightly around the undersides, making goosebumps raise over your skin and eliciting the first whimper.

Yess... he wants more of that.

He chuckles cruelly as he feels you grind against his thigh, his tongue unrelenting as he laps at your aching buds.

While his mouth is occupied, tugging one of your nipples between his lips and making them swell and harden, his fingers work the other; massaging, teasing, tugging until they're so puffy and dark, glistening with his saliva.

On and on it goes, until you're gasping his name amongst curses. Your grinding becomes frantic and arrhythmic, and the sweltering heat of your sex presses through the fabric of his trousers.

You're close... so... damn... close...

Then he lowers his knee, taking away the friction

(this asshole- istg)

He continues licking your nipples as you whine, taking sick satisfaction from the way you so desperately try to hump his hips, craving release.

"Beg me."

Even if you do, he'll keep up this give-and-take until you're a bleating mess.

He doesn't want your breathy "please Muzan, let me cum," he wants you sobbing.

And only when your tears come does he roll you onto your back, wedge his thigh back between yours and permit you to bring yourself release.

"Such a pathetic harlot," he whispers, his voice laced with darkness and desire as he watches you cum. "My pathetic harlot."

Strums his thumbs over your swollen nipples to make your body jolt as you come down from your high.

You lay there, whimpering and exhausted as he lowers his head, nuzzling your chest.

Is he... snuggling?!?

"What the hell happened in Asakusa?" you ask.

He simply closes his eyes and "sleeps" with one hand cupped over your breast, finally a little calmer.

[orbmanson7]

Masterpost of GenLoss BTS/Vlogs

For anyone wanting all the behind-the-scenes information and footage from the cast of Generation Loss: The Social Experiments, here is a full list!

Ranboo's "Generation Loss - Talking All About It" stream vod

-Ranboo, first stream after the show ended, explained some of the inspiration for the production, played some recordings of Charlie's towel performance, and showed some concept art and design photos of some of the props.

Vinny's "My Generation Loss Experience + Abandoned Mall Exploration" stream vod

-Vinny Vinesauce explained his part on the second episode of the show, showed footage he took from inside the mall while exploring the sets and abandoned areas, and showed behind-the-scenes footage of how the stunts for his death scene were made.

Niki's "Nihachu Reacts to Generation Loss" stream vod (clips channel only one available)

-Niki reacted to the first two episodes of the production, showed how she did her makeup to make it look like her character was crying, explained some behind-the-scenes stories, and talked about some of the audience's theories that she really liked.

Criken's "Behind The Scenes Stories from Generation Loss!" stream vod

-Criken (who played Hetch/Squiggles) explained his work on the production, reacted to the show, and showed some videos from behind the scenes and pre-recorded segments, including video proof of Ranboo's towel-throwing saga.

Sneegsnag's "Sneegsnag Reacts to Generation Loss Chapter 1" stream vod

-Sneegsnag watched and reacted through the first episode, explained a lot of behind-the-scenes plans for the first day's production, explained some interesting notes about his character, and showed the music inspiration he sent to Nathan Hanover when Nathan was making Sneegsnag's character music for the show.

Ranboo's "Generation Loss Behind the Scenes - Going Thru My Favorite Bits" stream vod

-Ranboo, second stream after the show ended, showed some unused cutscene videos (extra door scene, cooking contest commentary), showed some additional camera angles of shots in the show and some pre-show footage from practice runs of the first day's production.

Charlie's "Behind the Scenes: Generation Loss Episode 1" stream vod

-Charlie watched and reacted through the first episode, showed off some props he kept from the production, explained the differences between rehearsals and the actual show, and described some additional options the chat didn't choose during the live show.

Niki's "Gen Loss Finale" stream vod (starting at 3:25:10)

-Niki reacted to the final episode and described her initial reaction to the pre-recorded segments near the end of the episode.

Sneegsnag's "Sneegsnag Reacts to GeneLoss Part 2 w/ Ranboo and Slimecicle" stream vod

-Sneegsnag and Charlie watched the second episode together, both shared behind-the-scenes info and how many ideas were thought up only a day or two before the live production; Ranboo later joined the discord call to argue their case regarding the towel-throwing saga.

Charlie's "Behind the Scenes: Generation Loss Episode 2" stream vod

-Sneegsnag and Charlie's joint-react stream to the second episode, but from Charlie's stream, in case you want to watch that, too!

Sneegsnag's "Sneegsnag Reacts to GenLoss Part 3" stream vod

-Sneegsnag watched and reacted to the final episode, explained what he was doing behind the scenes during certain parts, and talked some more about his character.

Sneegsnag's "Generation Loss - Behind the Scenes (Vlog)" vlog

-Sneegsnag's footage of him, Charlie, and Ranboo exploring the sets before the live show, footage from the filming of Vinny's death scene, footage of Ranboo testing the box mechanism, footage from the second day's rehearsals with Austin, Ethan, Jerma, Niki, Charlie, Valkyrae, and Sykkuno, and footage from directly after the live show ended and folks were celebrating.

VidCon's "Generation Loss: How It Happened" Panel recording

-The panel recording from VidCon Anaheim 2023, featuring Ranboo, Jake (executive producer/plays the CEO of Showfall), Criken, Niki, and Sneegsnag; they showed some photos of the original ideas for the production and some set design process photos; Niki explained how she could see the chat reacting to her death scene from a monitor that was in that closet; showed some photos from the promotional work for the production (missing posters, merch photos, Times Square billboard); showed some of the video they made to send to the Emmys for nomination consideration; showed photos of them filming the pre-recorded door segments; showed photos of wardrobes and masks for different characters; showed pre-recorded footage of some scenes from the final episode; and played a teaser for the "next chapter" called Generation Zero: The Story of Lostfield.

TwitchCon's "Ranboo Generation Loss Panel TwitchCon Paris 2023" panel recording (clips channel only one available)

-The panel recording of TwitchCon Paris 2023, featuring Ranboo, Jake, Criken, Niki, Austin, and Sneegsnag; they showed some similar photos and footage as the VidCon panel, as well as some different shots, including some footage of them testing out the carousel for episode two and additional photos of the masks and wardrobe designs. They then answered some questions from the audience about their experiences and favorite parts of the show.

Sneegsnag's "Reacting to the GenLoss Founders Cut" stream vod

-Sneegsnag watched and reacted to the founders cut version of the show, adding some additional commentary about his character and behind the scenes information.

Prior to the Show:

"Last Stream Before Big Generation Loss Time!" stream vod

-Ranboo livestreamed while staying at the mall, explained some of the rehearsals they did for the ending scenes of the show and how excited they are for everyone to see it.

Here's the full playlist on Youtube, as well, for your convenience!

[ro-is-struggling]

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 2 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: All she wanted was to show Geralt that she could be part of his world, that it was worth putting in the effort to build a future together. He was her true home, the person she belonged to, the one who gave her life purpose, and all she wanted was to share the rest of her life with him. But things were not so simple and the differences that separated them were far too many. 

Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, a bit of jealousy and sexual tension, banter, mentions of blood and canon typical violence, angst at the end, my poor knowledge of the saga probably

English is not my first language

Word count: 15.500

Notes: the part with the hirikka is definitely not there just cause I thought it was cute and I got pissed off when the dude killed it in that episode of season 1, nope, not at all…ALSO the show is not very clear with the whole signs thing so everything that I wrote about them is based off things I read about the games and my own imagination, so sorry if it’s wrong/not true to the story 

PART 1 || PART 3

"I want to go with you."

The words escaped so casually from the young woman's lips that Geralt had to ask her to repeat them to make sure he had heard correctly. It was the middle of the night and he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing on his eyelids, but refusing to give in for some reason. He wasn't expecting to hear those words. In fact, he wasn't expecting to hear her speak at all since he thought she was still asleep, so her voice alarmed him.

"Go with me where?" The witcher mumbled his voice hoarse from sleep. His eyes opened to look at the princess resting beside him, tucked into his chest as her fingers nervously traced the lines of the scars on his chest. 

"I don't know," she shrugged, still not returning his gaze. "Wherever you're heading next."

Geralt frowned slightly.  They had known each other for quite some time. Since he had helped her escape from her family he had shown up countless times at her door, seeking the aid of her healing powers and, more importantly, her company. And in all that time she had never shown any kind of interest in what he did outside the walls of her home. She asked him questions, sure, and constantly scolded him for being "too irresponsible" —her words, not his—, but she had never expressed an interest in joining him on his travels.

That was kind of the point of their implicit agreement, so he didn't really mind that much. She was his secret helper, the motivation that drove him to do his job better. It was all worth it if at the end of a contract he was compensated according to his work and effort and, most importantly, if he had the chance to stop by her house to restore his energy. Geralt had always seen their relationship as sacred, a parallel world in which he could take refuge when things became too complicated or overwhelming. It was why he had never thought of taking her along on one of his trips. And it was also the reason for his surprise at that request.

"Why do you want to come with me?"

The young woman shrugged again and was silent for a moment as she tried to decide on what to answer. It wasn't that she didn't know —she was well aware of the motivations behind her words—, but rather that she wasn't sure if she should express them so openly out loud. 

"That's not an answer, sunshine." Geralt pressed her and she let out a quiet snort. 

"I want to explore the world, see what other options I have. I thought that this place was all I needed, but lately I've been questioning it." She finally said, glancing up to meet Geralt's eyes.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Yes, in the last few months she had found herself questioning her decisions, wondering if perhaps the world had more to offer her. She was happy in her hut, living among nature, away from her family that had hurt her so much. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that she still hadn't found the true purpose of her life. She had managed to free herself from the oppressive clutches of her parents who wanted to impose on her a future she hated, and while that was an achievement in itself, she still couldn't imagine a clear future for herself. Well, actually she could, it just wasn't a very realistic future.

All she wanted was to be with Geralt.

It was something that took her time to accept, partly because she knew it wasn't a good idea. She knew that Geralt was a... complicated man, with an unconventional lifestyle. She also knew that they were almost complete opposites. He was a man of great experience, gained after living years on the continent, and she was a young runaway princess who had lived her entire life controlled by the desires and expectations of others, and only now had the ability to choose and control her destiny. He was cold, calculating, capable of remaining calm even when faced with the worst of dangers, and she was impulsive and sentimental, often feeling things ten times as strongly as the common person. He was quiet and reserved, and used to living a wandering life, while she was cheerful and sociable, and desperate to find a place to belong.

But despite all the things that set them apart, she couldn't help but feel a deep connection to him. And she couldn't ignore the happiness that came over her every time he showed up at her door or the loneliness that haunted her when he left. Her days were miserable when she was alone, her mind always finding a way to focus on him again. She spent her time wondering where he was and what he was doing, worrying about his safety and health. She often wondered if he was also thinking about her and if he missed her as much as she missed him. 

Waiting for his return was an agony that became more difficult the more time they spent together. The more she got to know Geralt, the more she fell in love and the more it pained her to see him go. The few days he used to spend at her home were no longer enough for her. She wanted to be with him at all times, to learn more about his world, to join him in his adventures, to be more than a refuge away from his daily reality. She wanted to share her life with him, and for him to share his life with her. 

"I thought you liked it here." Geralt's voice brought her out of her thoughts. 

"I do!" She was quick to reply. "I just... I'm not sure this is what I want for my future. I feel like there's a lot more out there for me to explore..." She trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain her feelings without revealing too much.

"And what makes you think that coming with me will help you find what you're looking for?" Geralt asked her and she shrugged again.

"It's a start. You travel all over the continent, what better way to explore the world than by being by your side?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, sunshine." The witcher sighed. Her eyes reflected the pain those words awakened in her and he felt horrible for saying them, but he knew it was for the best. The road, his way of life, was not meant for someone like her.

"Why not?" she murmured, barely containing the pout that was trying to form in her sad expression.

"Because it's too dangerous. I don't just travel the continent, I fight evil, dangerous creatures. I cant do my job if I'm worried about your safety."

"I'm not asking you to let me fight with you, I'm asking you to let me tag along and explore the world with you. I don't have to be near any kind of danger."

"Well, that's what Jaskier always says and he always gets dragged into danger."

"Would it help if I promised to keep my distance and always listen to you and follow your orders?" She looked at Geralt with an innocent face, batting her eyelashes and pouting to try to convince him. She looked so adorable that it was honestly hard for him to refuse her.

"He always says that too." He countered with a half smile that widened slightly at the sight of her annoyed frown. She always looked pretty when she was angry, that was the reason why most of the time he didn't listen to her scolding —he always got lost in her beauty.

"Why are you being so mean?" She accused him, sitting on the bed with her arms folded and a look of dismay.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being careful and protecting you."

"Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t need your protection?"

Geralt was silent for a moment, admiring her face in the dim light. He knew he was exaggerating, that it was entirely possible for her to travel with him without anything bad happening to her. But it was also possible that things could go wrong and that alone was enough to bring up his fear of losing her. His work —and his life itself— was somewhat unpredictable at times. He didn't always choose when to confront evil creatures. Sometimes he crossed paths with one by pure coincidence and there was nothing he could have done to avoid it. He had a moral obligation to act in such situations, so danger always lurked, following in his footsteps closely, waiting for the most opportune moment to attack. Geralt was used to it, it was his daily reality, the only one he had ever known - since his life before his transformation was not even a distant memory in his mind. 

But it was not her reality. She had lived in a castle for most of her life and was only now beginning to be completely independent. She was not prepared for the kind of danger that a witcher's life entailed. Her little knowledge of medicinal and healing magic could not protect her. And if he failed at that too... Geralt didn't even want to think about it. 

"Maybe," he said, in a calm voice, "but I need to protect you... I need to know that you're alright."

Her gaze softened as a warm sensation ran through her body. The sincerity in his voice made her want to smile. He cared about her, about her safety and well-being. He needed her. He sought to protect her because he didn't want to lose her and that was reason enough for her heart to race and her eyes to fill with illusion.

"I know you do and I appreciate it." She spoke, voice soft and posture relaxed. She reached up to stroke his cheek, gently moving a lock of hair from his face so she could look into his eyes. Geralt leaned into her touch in an almost imperceptible movement, unable to resist the warm caress of her fingers. "Everything that I have, I owe it to you. You helped me be free and I trust you with my life, not just to protect me but to guide me... to help me find my way. There is really no other person I could ask for something like this... there is no one I trust more than I trust you."

And just like that, the discussion was over. All Geralt had to do was look into her eyes —those beautiful warm eyes that brought him so much comfort and happiness— and he lost all ability to fight. His own thoughts and worries were replaced by the need to make her happy. All he wanted was to see that sparkle in her eyes and know that he was the cause of it, the reason she was smiling. How could he refuse her requests when she looked at him with such illusion as she spoke those sweet words to him? He was willing to do anything to make her happy, even if it meant throwing caution to the wind.

"You have to promise that you will never leave my sight and that you will do what I say without question."

The young woman's face lit up immediately, a big smile playing across her lips as she looked at the witcher with wide open eyes. She looked like a child who had gotten her wish fulfilled. "Is that a yes?"

Geralt sighed with resignation and nodded his head. She let out a squeal of delight and rushed over to hug him as she repeated over and over how grateful and happy she was with his decision. A small, subtle smile tugged at his lips, feeling that comforting warmth run through his body as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He was worried about what might happen, but for the moment that didn't matter. All that mattered was the warmth of her body against his and the kiss she planted on his cheek as a thank you. She was happy and that made it all worth it.

"Just don't make me regret it." He warned her and she shook her head.

"I promise I'll be good. You won't regret this, Geralt."

Geralt wouldn't say he regretted his decision completely, but he couldn't say he was happy either. He had greatly underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with her getting distracted every time she saw a pretty bird fly overhead and complaining about the long journey that never seemed to end —she didn't seem to realize that her presence had a lot to do with the slowness of their journey. She wasn't holding up her end of the bargain completely either, which made Geralt worry more than usual about every step he took. While she listened to his directions and stayed in place when he instructed her to, she also took advantage of any moments of distraction —usually when he slept— to wander around the forest alone and without carrying a weapon to protect herself.

It wasn't all bad, though. Yes, she drove him mad with her songs to nature and her need to stop every time they came across a wounded animal, but Geralt couldn't deny that a part of him loved that about her. He loved seeing the smile that appeared on her face when a deer crossed her path or the sparkle in her eyes as she admired the sun setting over the river. There was an innocence in her attitude that captivated him. An amazement at the world around her that was so foreign to him, and yet so charming. After living so many years on the continent, he could not imagine experiencing such a fascination with the world. He admired it in a way, it reminded him of a time long ago, of a life he thought was buried in the darkness of his memory. It was part of her charm, part of the reason he couldn't seem to get away from her. She awakened the good in him, a light he thought he had lost after undergoing the mutations that turned him into the witcher he was today.

So, as much as he panicked every time she got too far away from him, he still wouldn't change a thing. Everything that made him groan in the daytime was worth it when she would curl up against him in front of the campfire at night, resting her head on his shoulder as she let the calm of the forest soothe her to sleep. It was actually embarrassing how much time Geralt spent admiring her beauty under the moonlight, watching her sleep peacefully curled up next to him as if she were the most beautiful piece of art he had ever seen. There was something about nature and the outdoors that awakened a special glow in her, a magnetic aura that kept him from taking his eyes off her. So he stayed awake at night longer than he should, watching her sleep while his mind was lost in thought. 

She was the last thing he saw before falling asleep, the last thing he thought about and dreamed about. Every night Geralt would give her a kiss on the forehead before settling down beside her. It was quick and soft so as not to disturb her sleep, but he needed it to know that she was real, that someone so wonderful had decided to follow him in his dark and tumultuous life. Every night, the witcher went to sleep thinking about her, how lucky he was to have her by his side and how important she was to him. He thought of the dangers that surrounded him and silently wished that nothing bad would ever happen to her. That was one of the recurring nightmares he had, returning one night to her hut and not finding her there. The idea of her relationship with him being what would ultimately lead to her demise haunted him.

Not being there to protect her from the evils of the continent was one of his greatest worries. Losing her was his greatest fear. So when he opened his eyes in the morning and did not find her by his side he jumped up as panic began to take over his body. He called her name several times, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the forest, but he got no response other than the sound of fluttering birds fleeing in fear of the disturbance. Geralt was preparing to set out to hunt whatever it was that had taken her, when the wind brought the melodious sound of her voice to his ears. He followed it through the trees and bushes, feeling his nerves calm as he listened to her laughter. She wasn't in danger, she was just being careless, as usual.

"Geralt!" she exclaimed with a smile as she looked up to meet her companion's white hair sticking out among the green bushes. "Thank the gods that you are here, I need you to help me move him."

The witcher looked at her in confusion for a moment, until he looked down at her lap where a badly wounded creature rested. But it wasn't just any creature, it was a hirikka that looked at him with big yellow eyes full of terror. From the size of the beast, Geralt guessed it was just a puppy, and since it wasn't attacking anyone he assumed it was well fed —though his benevolence could very well be just the effect of the young princess on the creature since she tended to have a special relationship with animals. Still, it had been careless of her to approach the animal, especially while he slept. If the creature had been adult and hungry, it could have been very dangerous for her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said before Geralt could open his mouth. He didn't need to speak to let her know what he thought of her actions, she could read it in his face. "His cries of pain woke me up and I just couldn't leave him to suffer."

"So you walked away from the camp and tended to the wounds of a dangerous creature without bothering to even wake me up?"

"Oh he could never hurt me! Look at those big, adorable eyes! He wouldn't hurt a fly, would you baby?" she excused herself, petting the hirikka's head as if it were a dog.

"He could have hurt you if he was hungry." the witcher huffed, unable to believe he was having such a conversation.

"He's a baby, Geralt, and it's wounded. I'm pretty sure I can defend myself from a wounded animal."

"That's not the point. You risked your life wandering into the woods like that!"

"I'm fine!" She dismissed his concerns, completely oblivious to the panic that swept through him when he woke up without her by his side. "Now help me move him, we need to get him to the mountain."

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but hirikkas usually live around the mountains, right?" Geralt nodded, already guessing where the young woman's argument was headed. "That means that this poor little thing is far from home. He probably came here for food and then got lost and wounded. We need to find his family so they can protect him."

"Hirikkas are a really rare species, what makes you think he even has a family in the first place?"

"Well, he's young he has to have someone taking care of him." She said as it was obvious causing Geralt to roll his eyes. 

"We passed the mountains two days ago, we can't just go back to search for a group of creatures that may not even be there in the first place."

"We can't leave him here alone either, he will die! You said it yourself, hirikkas are a rare species, if someone finds him they're definitely going to kill him!"

"Sunshine, we can't…"

"Please! We don't even have to get him to the mountains, just close enough for his family to hear his cries." She looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pout on her lips. How could he refuse her wishes when she looked so adorable and vulnerable? It was a waste of time, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. She was too pure, too good for this world. 

He knew how much she cared for the animals, the urge she felt to help them. According to the things she had told him about her life, the woods surrounding her old home had been her refuge. She hid there to escape the orders and hurtful comments of her family, finding more support in the wild rabbits and deers than in the people who lived in her castle. It was also the place where she had discovered her magical healing skills and the only place where she tended to use them. She had a deep connection with nature and Geralt knew there would be no convincing her to leave the animal alone to its fate.

"We'd have to backtrack two days of travel." He tried to reason with her, a last resort to see if he could get her to change her mind.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, just help me load him on the horse and I'll go by myself. You can go to the village and wait for me there."

"I'm not leaving you out here alone!" Geralt firmly stated. Then he let out a sigh of defeat. "You stay here, I'll go find Roach."

He made his way back to Roach mumbling to himself, unable to believe he had agreed to waste time backtracking his steps to help an injured animal. It was sad, yes, but normally he wouldn't stop for it. It's the law of nature. You are born, you grow, you reproduce and eventually you die. There was no point in worrying about things that were out of one's control. 

But she cared. Even if it was an animal that inspired terror in most people. Even if it was a small, insignificant creature that no one would miss, she would. She still talked about the rodent she once rescued from the clutches of a hungry owl as if it was one of the greatest accomplishments of her life. She cared about everyone, even when no one seemed to care about her —her family had stopped looking for her long ago and her subjects had not been saddened by the news. She cared, and that was enough for him to care too.

"What am I doing?" muttered Geralt to himself as he adjusted the horse's saddle. "Wasting days of travel just for a wounded animal." Roach snorted, shaking her head and tugging at the reins in the witcher's hands. He took a moment to pet the animal, letting out an airy chuckle. "I know, I know, she's worth it." He added before setting off down the path to where she stood waiting for him. She had won yet again.

“Oh stop being so grumpy! It wasn’t that bad.” She exclaimed, playfully nudging at his shoulder in an attempt to get a smile out of the witcher. He had been silent for hours now, communicating with her through grunts and frowns. Sure, the rain that had caught them in the middle of their journey wasn't ideal, but at least they were close to town when the first drops began to fall from the sky. "For a person who lives on the road, you don't seem too used to riding in a little rain."

"I am, I just find it annoying when we weren't supposed to be out in the rain in the first place." Geralt grumbled and she smiled, happy that he was back to communicating verbally.

"You don't know that, something else could have slowed us down along the way."

"Yes, probably another wounded animal." he mumbled to himself, though she heard him anyway and gave him a punch in the shoulder that probably hurt her more than it hurt him.

"We saved a vulnerable creature from a terrible fate, you should be proud of that!" She insisted, pushing open the doors of the inn where they had stopped for shelter.

The warmth from the interior suddenly hit her, embracing her wet skin and making her realize how cold she really was. The cloak she'd worn to protect herself from the water didn't do much given the force of the storm, but she would never admit that to Geralt - to do so would mean agreeing with him and she wasn't about to do that, not in that at least. The inn's common room was full of people, some wet and tired like them, others dancing and singing, no doubt after having had a few too many drinks. There was a fireplace in the center of the room that provided warmth and illumination. Her eyes were lost in the glowing flames for a moment, wishing she could get closer to the fire to keep the cold from chilling her bones. But she gave Geralt a quick glance and knew she couldn't do that, not without him smiling victoriously at her. So instead she decided to approach who seemed to be the owner of the place to get a room.

"You stay here, he's not going to give us a room if he sees that look on your face." she said, disappearing into the sea of people before Geralt could defend himself against her comment —although he was fairly certain she had a point.

The inn owner seemed to be a kind man, though he looked overwhelmed with the number of visitors he was receiving. Apparently the storm had brought with it more people than usually passed through those roads and the man and his helpers struggled to accommodate them all. He was running from place to place, checking the available rooms at every turn and chasing after his workers to escort people to their quarters. The waitresses were also overworked, navigating the crowds of people to bring jars of beer and plates of warm food to the tables full of cold people. Taking a closer look at the state of the place made her begin to fear that she might not find an available room. She had no idea how far it would be to the next inn, but even if it was a couple of feet away, it would be too far for the heavy rain falling from the sky. If they had to go out and get wet again, she would have to put up with Geralt's scowl for the rest of the night and as cute as he looked when he was angry, she didn't feel like listening to his complaints.

“Letha! Could you please check if room ten is still available?” The man shouted, calling out to his maid, when she asked if they still had any rooms available. "I'm sorry, it'll just be a moment."

"Busy night, huh?" She tried to make small talk, finding the silence too uncomfortable to bear.

"Yeah, it's a miracle! I haven't had the place this crowded in a long time."

"Why not? It's a beautiful place."

"There have been strange happenings going on in this part of town that affected businesses like mine." The man explained with some sadness and insecurity in his voice. It was subtle, but enough to peak his curiosity. So she continued to question him in hopes that he would share more of that mystery with her.

"There have been strange disappearances, people vanishing into thin air leaving almost no trace of their passage through these lands. At first they were just travelers, so no one really noticed or cared, myself included. Until it started to happen a lot more frequently. Every couple of days someone would find some traveler's belongings scattered along the road leading out of town, but no trace of the person. Eventually word spread and travelers stopped using this road to come into town and both my business and neighboring ones were severely affected."

"Do you know what it is that is causing these disappearances? Do you have any theories?"

"People say the road is cursed, I've heard people talk about an evil witch and others claim it's a punishment from the gods, but no one knows what's really going on. The rest of the town doesn't believe us much either, so the mayor doesn't do anything about it."

"He's going to pay for that mistake," a waitress interrupted the conversation, leaving the empty tray on the counter as she leaned over the wood to join the conversation. "It's getting worse. Now that there's no more travelers, people from the town are starting to disappear. If he doesn't believe us now, he will soon."

The young princess wanted to continue investigating, but before she could ask about the recent disappearances, the maid returned to tell her that room ten was ready for use. She thanked her and paid for the night using the money she had earned selling her goods at the fair in the village where she lived. It was her way of compensating Geralt for the inconvenience caused without having to admit to his face that he was right.

"We have a room for the night, can you please change your attitude now?" She announced when she returned to him.

Despite her request, Geralt's frown became more prominent. Only this time his eyes were not on her, but on something that had caught his attention over her shoulder. She looked at him with a strange look on her eyes, but before she could ask him what it was that was bothering him now, she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she met the face of a curly-haired man that had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. He was cute, she thought, so she offered him a smile.

He introduced himself as Arlan, not wasting a second before showing his true intentions as he made a subtle bow while kissing the back of her hand in a flirtatious manner. He mentioned something about her beauty - how he had noticed her as soon as she walked through the doors since she lit up the room with her smile or something like that - a corny line, but one that could have been effective were it not for the fact that her heart already belonged to someone else. The man invited her to dine with him in a very respectful manner, and a part of her was tempted to accept his offer. After all, she wasn't used to receiving that kind of attention. But before she could utter a sound, Geralt cleared his throat behind her back to make himself noticed.

"She can't, she's busy. Goodbye." He answered for her in a much more serious and intimidating tone than usual. He fixed his gaze on the man, looking at him with that intimidating look he gave when he wanted to make sure no one bothered him. His yellow eyes flared with anger, his brow furrowed in annoyance. It didn't take long before the man fled in fright, muttering something about rescheduling for another time with no real conviction in his voice.

"Geralt!" the young woman turned to deliver a punch on his shoulder. "That wasn't very nice of you! Why did you do that?"

"He was being annoying, so I made him leave."

"No he wasn't, he was being nice and polite." She crossed her arms, looking at the witcher with confusion. She had never seen him act like this before. Grumpy and bitter, sure, hundreds of times, but there was something different about the way he reacted. He had been too quick to dismiss the man, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was holding back the urge to separate his head from his neck. It made no sense, the poor guy was just flirting with her, no reason to spark such a reaction from Geralt.

Unless...

"Is that jealousy I detect in those intimidating yellow eyes?" She laughed and Geralt let out a snort. "Are you jealous? Were you afraid I was going to leave you for him?" She was partially joking, taking the opportunity to tease him and see if she could get a smile out of him, but she couldn't deny that the mere possibility of that being true made her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"I'm not jealous, I'm protecting you from a bastard that wants nothing more than to defile your honor."

"He didn't seem like a bastard to me."

"We were outside in the pouring rain, sunshine. You're soaking wet and your clothes stick to your body leaving nothing to the imagination. That's all he saw when you walked into the room, not your smile or whatever lie he told."

Geralt didn't want to sound mean, but the truth was that she could be very innocent at times. She was unaware of the effect she had on others, especially when it came to physical attraction. Geralt saw the way men looked at her and didn't like it one bit. But she didn't usually notice those details, which made him want to protect her even more.

She wanted to scold him, but he gave her no chance as he took her by the arm and dragged her through the crowd to their room. The moment the door closed behind them, Geralt instructed her to take off her wet clothes before she got sick. She let out a giggle as she took off her wet cloak, telling him that he should at least invite her to eat before asking her to do something like that. 

"I mean, at least Arlan was willing to do that." She joked and Geralt gave her an unamused look.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, and I just made a joke. Lighten up a bit! You know it won't kill you to smile, right?" The witcher replied by tossing her the bag with the extra clothes she had brought, giving her a last glance before starting to change himself.

The young princess's eyes admired his naked torso for longer than was appropriate. She was used to seeing him like this, but she could never get used to the tingling in her stomach when she noticed the way the muscles in his back and arms flexed when he moved. It left her completely stupid for a few seconds, mind malfunctioning as the images of his body occupied the full capacity of her thoughts. She noticed the water droplets sliding down his skin, traveling down his scars until they disappeared at the line of his pants. That gave her the urge to reach out to touch him, to trace those lines with her own fingers, but the sound of Geralt clearing his throat brought her out of her trance.

With her face burning with embarrassment, the young woman blurted out a quick comment about how well the last wound she had treated was healing. It was a stupid excuse and not at all believable, but it was better than admitting that she lost her mind every time he took off his shirt. He knew she was lying. She knew he knew she was lying. But she didn't give him time to react, grabbing her clothes and disappearing for a much needed bath.

Geralt stood alone in the room, staring at the wood of the door with a small smile plastered on his face. She looked adorable when she was flustered and he was proud to be the reason behind it. It was a kind of vindication that put his jealousy to rest after having to endure the audacity of that man and her teasing in response. The unspoken thing they shared wasn't just in his head. She only had eyes for him, just as he only had eyes for her.

It was rather twisted of him to want her so much when he knew he couldn't –or rather, shouldn't— have her. Geralt knew that nothing good could come from him following his feelings. They were not meant to be together, they were far too different, with far too opposite lives. He would only end up hurting her either physically, putting her life at risk because of his profession, or emotionally, when reality would explode the fantasy bubble and force them to face it. He was not meant to settle down in one place and live a calm and happy life. Maybe at some point in the distant past he was, long before he went through the mutation process that had turned him into the witcher he was now. But he had accepted long ago that that life, the possibilities and paths he could have taken, had died the moment the mutations began to change his body. It made no sense to duel in the past, to fight against nature to force something that was impossible. It was a waste of time and energy.

Geralt had lived by that principle most of his life. However, when it came to her he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he decided to stay, if he left everything behind to follow his heart. Intoxicated by the scent of her hair and enraptured by the sound of her laughter it was easy to lose himself in the fantasy that they had a future together, that their relationship could be more than fleeting visits and late night escapes to avoid facing the reality of the mornings. He would have to be extra careful on this trip, control his emotions so as not to give in to the fantasy.

By the time she returned, Geralt was waiting for her with a tray of food resting on the small table in the center of the room. There were two plates of steaming stew, some bread, and two jars of ale. She smiled at the gesture, feeling warmth spreading through her body from her stomach as she approached Geralt. 

"What is this?" She asked him, sitting down in the free chair to better inspect the food.

"I thought we'd be more comfortable eating here, away from all the noise and the people walking around." He explained as he brought the jar of beer to his mouth. She looked at him for a moment, studying his face with her eyes before letting out a chuckle. "What?"

"You really don't want me around that man, huh?" He looked at her, but didn't answer, though she didn't need him to know the answer to her question. "It's a shame because now we won't get to hear the stories about this place and the details about the job I found for you."

"What job?"

She smiled at his curiosity and proceeded to tell him what little she had managed to get out of the inn owner about the strange disappearances threatening the village. They discussed the details as they ate, debating whether there would be any veracity to the man's claims or if they were all bullshit. She felt proud of herself for having been the one to discover the problem, happy to be able to show Geralt that her presence was not completely useless. 

She could get used to his life, be more than his healer. She needed some time to get used to his rhythms, but she could be useful. She could get used to anything to be by his side, to share more than a couple of days with him and then miss him for months. If this trip had proven anything, it was that no matter where they were, she would always feel at home if Geralt was by her side. He was her true home, the place where she belonged. She had been going mad looking for her purpose, her place in the world, when in reality she had already found it. It was to be by Geralt's side, to heal him and protect him from all evil. He was the piece she was missing, the only one capable of filling the emptiness that weighed her down. She wanted to be with him, she needed him to feel complete, and she was willing to do anything to show Geralt that a future together was possible, that she could adapt to live in his world.

Another disappearance occurred that same night while the town slept, but no one heard about it until the next morning, after the storm had passed. Geralt spent the day listening to the stories and opinions of anyone willing to speak on the subject, which, honestly, were more than he expected. Having his sweet princess by his side helped people open up to him. Normally he used to appear too intimidating, but with her by his side everything was easier. She was so kind and caring when talking to people that no one could refuse to answer her questions. Geralt found it comforting to know that he was not the only one unable to resist her charms.

They were talking to a waitress about the rumors she had heard when a woman entered the inn. She immediately caught Geralt's attention because she looked visibly distressed. Her voice was muffled and in her trembling hands she held a cloth handkerchief that she used to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Apparently she knew the owner of the inn because she asked to speak to him personally and burst into tears in his arms when the answer to her question was negative. Geralt gestured to the young princess and they approached them to find out if the woman's grief had anything to do with their little investigation.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" She said in a soft tone so as not to upset the poor woman even more.

"Her son is missing." The innkeeper explained to them as he tried to calm the woman's desperate crying with gentle caresses on her back. "He went out last night and never came back home. She's been asking around town and nobody has seen him."

"Is it possible that he got lost in the storm?" Geralt asked and the man shook his head, assuring him that the young man was a skilled traveler and tracker who knew the town like the back of his hand.

"It was her! I told him it wasn't wise to go out... let someone else take care of her... but he didn't listen." The woman spoke between sobs emerging from the innkeeper's arms to wipe her tears with her handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, her? There was a woman?" The princess asked and the woman nodded her head. She then proceeded to tell them about her son's last moments.

Apparently he was sheltering their farm animals from the storm when he noticed a young woman standing in the rain. She had long, jet black hair that clung to her pale skin from the water. Her dress was dirty and had the edges of the skirt in shreds, as if she had been running through the forest and the fabric had been torn by branches and bushes. She looked lost and out of place, so the young man felt the need to help her. Her mother had objected to him inviting her to spend the night at their house, acting cautiously since rumors of the mysterious disappearances had only grown in recent months. So the young man told her that he would just make sure she was all right and accompany her to an inn for the night. She watched them disappear into the darkness from her kitchen window and that was the last contact she had with her son.

"I knew something was wrong." The woman sobbed. "She was just standing there in the rain, like she was waiting for someone to pass by and fall for her trap. I should have stopped him, I should have done more." The princess patted her shoulder in support, trying to do something to make the woman feel better —even though she knew nothing she could do or say would ease the pain of a mother worried about her child.

"You are a witcher, isn't there something that you can do?" The innkeeper asked and the woman looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was clear that she was so distressed that she had not been able to recognize the clear details that indicated that the big, strong man in front of her was not an ordinary human.

"I don't have much, but I can talk to my neighbors, the other people affected by this creature, everybody who believes it's a threat to the town and find a way to pay for your service... anything to find my boy and make sure this doesn't happen again."

Geralt named his price before the woman ran out of there to round up her neighbors, though he would have taken care of the problem even if they didn't pay him for his services. He then set out to walk through the town, visiting some of the places that had been mentioned by the locals in search of evidence, though he had a good idea what it was that was haunting the locals. The princess followed him closely, remaining surprisingly silent for a long time. She wanted to give him space to work, to let him concentrate and do whatever it was he needed to do to help the villagers. But after spending several minutes in silence, she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"So, what do you think?" She eventually asked him as they walked down the road where most of the disappearances had occurred, just outside of town. "Any theories about what this thing is?"

"For what they describe, I'm almost certain it is a Bruxa." The witcher replied, leaning over the ground to inspect possible footprints. "And it has to have a refugee nearby."

"A Bruxa?" She repeated with a slight frown of confusion. She had never heard that term before. Truth be told, she had never heard of most of the creatures Geralt told her about. Her kingdom was small, quiet, they didn't usually have attacks from beasts of that nature. And if they did, her parents didn't tell her about it. In her kingdom magic and everything related to it were frowned upon, hence she had learned about her abilities from a servant girl who taught her in secret from everyone. From what she understood, magic ran in the family's blood —although it tended to skip generations—, but it had always brought trouble and misfortune, so it had been forbidden in the kingdom, leaving her completely alienated and unaware of the best stories and legends the continent had to offer.

"It's a type of vampire, very powerful, that usually takes the form of a dark haired young woman to lure people into its trap."

"So you know how to kill it? I mean, of course you know how to kill it, what am I saying!"

Geralt bit back a smile. "Silver does the trick, but we need to find it first."

He explained that they usually lived away from large conglomerations of people as a form of protection, but the fact that she always attacked on the same road made him think that she must be taking refuge nearby. So they wandered through the forest surrounding the road to the village, looking for any sign that might indicate the bruxa's whereabouts. But the creature was clever, it knew how to cover its tracks, so they spent most of the day walking around and only found a couple of drops of blood and drag marks that led them nowhere. Suddenly, the princess understood how she had managed to go unnoticed for so long. If she hadn't talked to the locals and listened to the sobs of that desperate mother, she wouldn't believe that anything out of the ordinary was going on there.

"I think we are not being smart about this." She broke the silence as her patience began to wear thin. "We are never going to find her like this."

"What do you suggest we do?" Geralt inquired, partially intrigued by whatever it was she had in mind. It was interesting for him to work with her. Usually he did things alone, but her naive curiosity and sweet kindness provided a different look that changed his usual patterns.

"We know she's going to attack again, right? So we just have to make sure we are there next time to stop her."

"We can't predict who she will stack next."

"No, but we can lure her out of hiding... bring the food out here to her to tempt her and hopefully force her to make a mistake."

"So, you're saying we should use someone as bait?" Geralt looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised by her words, she didn't seem like the type of person who was willing to put others at risk for a greater good. Granted, he was going to be there the whole time and wouldn't let anything bad happen, but still, he couldn't believe that idea had come from the same young woman who had made him backtrack days of travel to help an injured animal find his family.

"Not someone. Me." She said almost casually, preparing to meet the witcher's firm refusal. He looked at her for a moment, thinking she was playing some kind of joke on him that he didn't find funny. But when he saw the determination in her eyes he had to intervene.

"Absolutely not! It's too dangerous." His tone was serious as was his gaze, a way of letting her know that this time he would not give in. 

"What other choice do we have? Wait for it to kill someone else? Wander aimlessly around the woods for eternity?" She tried to reason with him. They had been walking around there for hours without much success and, while this was not something she did often, she suspected that things would not improve even if they kept looking. The bruxa was smart and wasn't going to let herself be found easily. Waiting for her to attack again was not an option either. Geralt was just one man and there was too much ground to cover. And there was no way to predict who her next victim would be. If they wanted to end this quickly they would have to force her out of hiding.

"I'm not using you as bait, sunshine." Geralt growled.

"Well, we can't risk the lives of the people in town and you can't be the bait either because she will know what you are. I don't see any other option, Geralt."

"I'm not going to risk your life for this, forget it."

"My life would not be at risk, not with you there. I trust you, probably more than I should." She tried to joke to ease the tension in the air, but Geralt did not laugh. His eyes softened, however, touched by her faith in him. It warmed his heart to notice the admiration in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if she was sure he could handle anything. It meant a lot to him that she trusted him with her life, but he couldn't help thinking that part of her did it because she was too innocent and unaware of the real risks his profession entailed. That was the only way she could be volunteering for such a task.

"Sunshine..." Geralt's voice became softer, a subtle plea for her to reconsider her stance.

"I want to do it. I want to help you... I want to help the people in town." She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out what she really wanted to say. More than anything else, she wanted to prove herself and show Geralt that his life was not incompatible with hers. Maybe she would need some training, but there was a place for her in Geralt's world. She knew it now and hoped she could prove it to him.

Geralt looked at her and once again knew he couldn't refuse her. He hated the way she was able to convince him of anything with a simple look. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes and he would fall surrendered at her feet, willing to do anything she wanted. 

"If we're going to do this, I need you to promise me that you'll listen to everything I say." the witcher sighed, defeated. "And I mean it this time. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Is that clear?" She nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. Several times in the past she had promised the same thing and failed to deliver. He needed to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. "I mean it, sunshine, there is no room for error in this."

The young princess then took one of Geralt's hands between her own. He was much larger than she was so that she had to use both of her hands in order to completely envelop one of his. She gave it a light squeeze and looking into his eyes as she said, "I promise to follow your every order this time."

It wasn't enough to loosen the knot that had formed in the witcher's stomach, but it was a start.

She lost count of how many times she had tossed and turned in bed since she went to sleep. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow, so Geralt decided it would be best to get a good night's sleep. She had agreed with him, especially since she felt tired after the long walk through the forest they had taken. But the moment her head hit the pillow, sleep disappeared from her body. She still felt tired —the muscles in her legs complained from the exercise and her eyelids were heavy as if she hadn't blinked for hours—, yet she was unable to fall asleep. It was as if her own mind was refusing to rest, seeking to punish her for who knows what.

She was surprised that Geralt hadn't complained about her restlessness already. He was a light sleeper and usually the slightest movement would wake him up. Several times in the past she had earned grunts of annoyance and even forced hugs for her inability to sit still, but when she turned once more to look at him she noticed that he had his eyes closed and his breathing was relaxed. She could see half of his face thanks to the moonlight coming through the window, illuminating his features and making him look softer than usual. She always loved to watch him sleep. There were not many occasions when she had the opportunity to do so since she was always the one who fell asleep first. But on the rare occasions when he did fall asleep first, she loved to admire him in silence as he rested. There was something so special and intimate about it-the way his chest moved up and down with his soft breathing, how his features relaxed completely beneath the unruly strands of white hair that clung to his face-she simply couldn't take her eyes off him.

It usually brought her peace to see him sleeping so peacefully. She fought the heaviness of her eyelids as much as she could, wanting to take advantage of every second of those moments to admire his beauty in a way she couldn't when he was awake, but eventually sleep always got the better of her. Just looking at him being so comfortable and relaxed next to her was enough to silence any voice in her mind that deprived her of her sleep. So she turned her attention back to the man lying to her left in the hope that it would help her sleep as it always did. She ran her eyes over his face, admiring the way his eyelashes almost caressed his cheeks, tracing the shape of his nose and cheek bone. Down his defined jawline to his neck and then she became distracted by the scars that adorned his body. She had them memorized after healing his wounds for so long, to the point that she didn't need the moonlight to fully shine on his chest to locate them on his skin. Even in the dark she could visualize them in her mind.

Her eyes focused on the scar that adorned his collarbone. A long, thin line was all that remained of the deep cut she had had to heal. Her finger traced the textured skin as her mind was lost in the memories of that night. It wasn't the worst state he had been in when he had shown up at her door, but still his wounds were quite deep. She had first had to clean the blood that covered his chest in order to find them all. 

She liked Geralt's scars. Not only were they a part of him that she couldn't picture him without, but they were also a physical representation of his history. He carried imprinted on his skin the moments they had shared together, an indelible sign that marked her passage through the witcher's life. And every time she saw them, she couldn't help but remember those moments.

“You can't sleep either, huh?” Geralt's hoarse voice took her by surprise, snapping her out of her thoughts. When she looked up she met the witcher's amber eyes watching her curiously. A cheeky smile formed on his lips as he noticed her embarrassment at being caught in that position. She removed her hand from his chest as if his skin was burning her fingers, feeling the blood from his body travel up to pool in her cheeks. Geralt had to restrain the urge to put her hand back where it was, already missing the gentle caress of her fingers on his skin.

"No." She replied in a small voice, refusing to look up to meet his face.

There were a few seconds of silence before Geralt spoke again. "Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"I don't know if scared would be exactly the word I would use, but certainly nervous. I guess, I don't really know what to expect and that makes me feel weird... but I want to do it, so you can't convince me otherwise." she hurried to say to make sure Geralt knew she was strong and determined.

The witcher sighed and there was another moment of silence before she worked up the courage to speak again, this time looking up to meet his eyes. "Are you? Scared, I mean."

“I suppose it worries me that you may get hurt in the fight.”

"Well, don't be. Everything will be fine, you are going to kill the bruxa and nothing bad will happen to me or the people in town." She tried to reassure him, giving him a small smile. Geralt appreciated the gesture, but wished things were that simple. 

"It's not as simple as that." He sighed, reaching up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face so he could get a good look at her in the dim moonlight. "Things can escalate really quickly and go wrong... I'm not invincible, sunshine. It happened to me before and it cost the life of a princess too."

A sudden sadness came into Geralt's eyes. He was looking at her, but it was as if he was looking right through her as he got lost in thought. She wondered what kind of memories were flooding his mind. He never told her about that story and she couldn't help but be curious. She wanted to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but regretted it at the last minute, choosing to comfort him rather than question him.

"I'm not completely useless, you know? Back at the castle they taught me to defend myself."

"Not from these creatures, sunshine." She could sense the concern in his voice. It warmed her heart to know that he cared so much about her. It almost made her want to give up, just to bring some peace to his troubled mind. But she couldn't, she had to prove herself, prove she could do it.

Reaching out, she let her fingers trace the line of his cheek bone. Geralt closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the warmth of her caress. Then he rested his own hand on top of hers, trapping it in place so she couldn't pull it away. He needed that. He needed to feel her, her warmth, her affection, it helped him silence his thoughts.

"Would it help quiet your mind if you taught me some tricks to protect myself?" She asked him in a soft voice. "I'm a fast learner."

"Well, I suppose I could teach you about the signs. You have an aptitude for magic, so I'm certain that you will be able to conjure them."

Geralt slipped her hand from his cheek, but kept his hand on hers at all times as he briefly explained what the signs were and the uses they had. She listened carefully to every word, admiring the way his lips moved as he spoke. She loved when he told her stories of his adventures or explained details about his world, not only because she found his deep, monotone voice incredibly soothing, but also because it made her feel closer to him. 

"I think the best ones to teach you right now are Aard and Quen. They are probably the most useful ones for protecting you from this particular creature." He explained, raising the young woman's hand in the air. "The form and position of your hand is very important when casting a sign. For Aard you have to have your fingers like this."

He pressed his palm against the back of her hand, positioning his fingers over hers. Slowly he bent her middle finger downward, leaving the other four aligned upward. The young woman couldn't help but notice the way Geralt's hand completely covered hers, making her feel smaller than normal next to him. The warmth of his skin felt good, comforting, it made her wish he would never move his hand away from her. She would live holding his hand if that were humanly possible. There was something about feeling his skin against hers that awakened a comforting warmth that spread throughout her entire body. It made her feel comfortable, at peace.

When she looked up, she found that Geralt's eyes were fixed on her face. The blood rushed to her cheeks once again, somehow feeling vulnerable under his watchful gaze. But she detected in them a special glow that let her know he felt the same peace in having their hands intertwined. And that put a small smile on her lips.

"This sign channels the energy of the air, so when you cast it you should focus on that... feel the air around you, how it flows, the way it makes the tree tops shake and your hair dance around you..." Geralt's voice gradually faded to a hoarse whisper. Instinctively he moved a little closer to her, their faces mere inches apart as he lost himself in images of her walking through the forest with a smile as her hair danced in the wind. His eyes fell to her lips and he felt the urge to kiss her. They looked so soft and inviting, so appetizing, as if they had been created just for him to kiss. But before he could act on his urges, her voice snapped him out of his trance, bringing him suddenly back to reality.

"What's the next one like?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper. It was as if she felt sorry for ruining the moment, as if she felt compelled by the tension in the air to say something, but she really didn't want him to hear her.

Geralt cleared his throat before replying. "Quen is a protective sign, it can create a protective shield around you so I'd suggest you learn this one well. To cast it you need to bend your pinky finger, like this." He changed the position of his hand along with hers, helping her with his finger to bend her pinky.

"Can I try?" She sat on the bed to make herself more comfortable and Geralt followed. He placed his hand back on hers and guided her through the summoning process.

"Focus on your surroundings." He whispered in her ear, making her shiver. 

Concentrating was harder than it seemed when she could feel the heat his body emanated and every breath he took. It collided against the sensitive skin of her neck, making the baby hairs on the back of her head stand up. Geralt had to know the effect his closeness had on her. She was pretty sure the entire inn could hear the way her heart was pounding rapidly, crashing violently against her chest. He knew and he was doing it on purpose, she was convinced of that.

"Close your eyes and visualize a shield of energy around you." He continued speaking as if nothing was happening. She listened to him, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but it was almost impossible. Especially when she could feel Geralt's lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Then she felt a spark, a current of energy shooting from the joining of their hands. She flinched and opened her eyes, taking a moment to admire their hands before looking at Geralt to see if he had felt the same thing she had.

"You almost got it." He encouraged her. "Focus, sunshine, come on."

She took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders before trying the conjuring again. This time she didn't seek to push the feelings that Geralt's proximity aroused in her. On the contrary, she used them. He was the only thing that mattered to her in that room, the only thing that existed besides her. He was her world, so why not concentrate on him? She let the warmth of his body envelop her, let the scent of leather and wet dirt that was characteristic of him assault her nostrils. She concentrated on the harmonious depth of his voice, letting the baritone sound travel through her ears and through her body.

She felt the spark once again, only it was much stronger this time. Her hand tingled and then she felt a rush of warmth shoot out of her. When she opened her eyes she found a layer of translucent white energy enveloping her and Geralt. It lasted only a few seconds because she broke her concentration, feeling incredibly proud of herself for successfully summoning the signal on her second attempt. It wasn't necessarily a big deal, but ever since she was a child she had grown accustomed to hearing that she was clumsy and useless and couldn't do anything right, so she had gotten into the habit of celebrating even her smallest accomplishments.

"I did it!" The princess exclaimed with a smile, throwing herself into Geralt's arms. Her embrace took him by surprise, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. He allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of her body for a moment, enjoying the floral scent of her hair as he tried to burn every detail of that moment into his memory.

"Give me a couple of training sessions and I could take your job." She joked, exaggerating her merit, and earning a small smile from Geralt.

The plan was simple. The princess would pose as a lost traveler looking for directions in the hopes that her apparent vulnerability would force the bruxa to come out of hiding. Geralt would be following her closely, hiding among the trees and bushes so as not to draw attention to himself. Once the fight broke out, she was under strict orders to run to Roach and take cover in a safe area where he had marked the Yrden sign on a tree. If they were lucky he would manage to draw the creature's attention to him long enough for her to escape. He doubted it would follow her after that, the bruxa seemed to be too clever to risk entering an area protected by Yrden just to catch a girl.

Even though the creature usually preferred to hunt men —probably because they were easier to trick—, it didn't take long for it to appear on the trail just where the villagers said it would. It happened in the blink of an eye, and without much sign of its presence other than the sound of branches and leaves rustling near them. The princess was on edge, hyper-aware of every little noise she heard and every movement her eyes could see in the dim moonlight. She jumped in place when she heard the sound of a branch snapping, and turned to look for the source of the sound. She scanned the darkness with her eyes as best she could, but found nothing suspicious, so she returned her gaze to the front.

That's when she saw her.

She was tall and slender, with skin that looked like porcelain. Her long black hair hid her face, though she could feel her intense gaze locked on her. She was standing in front of her, separated by just a couple of inches, and the princess had no idea where she had come from.

She struggled to keep her breathing at a normal level as she spoke explaining her situation to it, hoping it wouldn't be able to hear the rapid beating of her heart or detect the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The last thing she wanted was for the bruxa to discover the trap because of her poor acting skills.

"Oh, I'm sorry that happened to you." The creature said with faked empathy, taking the princess by the hand. She thought about pulling free from its grip, but decided against it at the last moment, thinking it would be too obvious. Geralt was close by and she trusted him completely. "The village is far, you are not going to get there by foot until tomorrow morning."

The bruxa was lying. Her favorite place to hunt wasn't that far from the village and while it might be annoying to walk the distance, it was probably a two hour walk at most. The princess wondered how many poor travelers would have fallen into that trap, believing her words without knowing that in reality salvation was much closer.

"You look tired." The bruxa affirmed and to the princess's surprise, she began to feel the weight on her eyelids and tired body. "I have a place nearby, you can spend the night there and tomorrow you can continue your travel. There's food and a warm bed for you to sleep in."

She was neither tired nor hungry, but the black-haired woman's words sounded tempting. She almost had to fight the urge to accept her proposal, even though she knew that nothing but death awaited her there. The creature was probably using its charms on her, enchanting her into agreeing to go with it without making a scene and attracting the attention of the villagers. She knew it and yet she couldn't resist. If it wasn't for Geralt appearing at that precise moment, she didn't know what would have become of her.

"Run!" was all the witcher said to her as he separated her from the bruxa. His eyes were completely black and his skin was much paler than usual. She had seen him fight before, but never while in his full witcher form. It caught her off guard but she managed to pull herself together quickly enough to get away from the area before the fight really started.

She heard the echoes of the bruxa's screams as she ran. They were deafening and she honestly couldn't believe how Geralt managed to endure them at such close proximity. She had to make the effort not to look back, knowing that if she saw what was happening she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to go over and help him. When she reached Roach she noticed the mare was upset, neighing and whinnying as if she could feel the tension in the air and the fear the princess felt.

"Shh, shh, it's fine! Everything is going to be okay." She tried to calm her down, stroking her soft fur as she watched the fight unfold a few feet away. "Geralt has it under control."

Every word of encouragement she blurted out for Roach, was a word of encouragement for her as well. She knew that Geralt was a very experienced witcher who had probably fought and killed many beasts equally or more dangerous than that bruxa even before she was born, but she couldn't help but worry for his life as she watched the battle. The creature was fast and precise with its attacks, using its scream to stun Geralt whenever it was at a disadvantage. He was able to hurt her a couple of times, but it was nothing lethal so he only managed to infuriate her. And even though she was bleeding even more than he was, that didn't make it any easier to see him get thrown into the air by the bruxa's deafening scream.

In the midst of the battle, the bruxa tried to flee. It changed its human form, transforming into something that the princess could only describe as a bat, only much larger and more horrifying. It spread its long wings and lifted off, escaping from Geralt's clutches just in time. But it didn't disappear for long, as a few seconds later it flew towards him once again, swooping down like a bird determined to catch its prey. Geralt braced himself for the attack and almost succeeded in striking it in the torso with the silver sword. But at the last moment the creature flew up, circled in the air and descended again on the witcher. Only this time it used its scream to launch him a couple of feet away. 

Geralt's sword fell to the ground away from his hand at the same time as his head hit a rock. The princess held her breath as she watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes, unconsciously taking a few steps to get closer to him. He was moving, so at least she knew he wasn't dead, but he looked really dazed. The bruxa was flying high circling him like a crow, preparing to attack.

"Come on, Geralt, come on!" She muttered in the darkness, taking a couple more steps. Her eyes went from him to the bruxa, watching its movements, and back to him. He was beginning to regain his abilities, but unfortunately the bruxa had decided it was time to finish him off. Even though Geralt was getting back up, there was no way he could get to his sword in time, and she didn't see anything else he could use to defend himself. So she did the only thing she could do at that moment. She ran at him, breaking the one rule Geralt had imposed on her.

She knew it was stupid and risky, but the adrenaline in her veins and the fear of losing Geralt clouded her thinking. She ran to him ready to assist him because she refused to stand still a second longer, watching helplessly as that creature finished him off. It was reckless and dangerous as hell, but what else could she do when the man she loved was in mortal danger? She would never forgive herself if something happened to him that night because she did nothing to help him. 

She couldn't lose him, not like this, not now that they were so close to starting to think about a future together. So she ran as fast as she could, reaching the center of the battle before the bruxa managed to get her claws on her beloved. She then cast an Aard signal, Geralt's words echoing in her mind as a wave of energy was expelled from her hand. She managed to knock the bruxa down a couple of feet away, probably because it wasn't expecting her to join the fight. However, the victory didn't last long as the creature got up and rose into the air, only this time she was its target.

She could hear Geralt's voice shouting her name in the distance, urging her to run for cover, but seeing the speed of the bruxa's flight she knew she wouldn't get very far if she tried to run. So she planted herself in place and cast the Quen signal, creating a protective field around her that she hoped would hold until Geralt could reach her. She struggled to maintain her concentration, pushing aside her fear of facing this beast. But even her best effort could not stand against the bruxa's powerful scream. The moment she opened her mouth, the young woman's shield shattered and she was thrown into the air. 

She felt the way her body cut through the wind as she flew. The world around her became a blur as she moved at a speed unnatural for a human being. And then her body hit a tree and she fell to the ground. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her head that left her dazed and disoriented. She could hear Geralt's voice calling her name, but it sounded far away. She tried to get up, but her surroundings began to spin as soon as she moved. She felt a warm, sticky liquid coating her hair, but she didn't have the mental capacity to recognize that it was blood gushing from a wound on her head. She was too disoriented to recognize her own surroundings.

In the midst of the confusion, she was able to feel the bruxa's claws digging into her shoulders. As blurry as her vision was, she could make out the beast's face hanging over hers. She thought that this was going to be the end of her, that horrible image being the last thing she would see before she died. She thought of all the things she regretted, of all the experiences she had missed. And she thought of Geralt too. She thought about how much she loved him and how sorry she was that she hadn't been up front with him about how she felt. Maybe things could have been different if she had told him how much she loved him, but now it was too late.

The bruxa brought her face closer to her and the princess closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate. But instead of feeling her teeth clinging to his neck, she heard it let out a pained whimper. Suddenly, she stopped feeling the weight of its body on hers or the sharpness of its claws on her shoulders. And when she opened her eyes she was met with Geralt's face, who was kneeling beside her.

She felt the warmth of his hands on her cheeks and heard the distant, muffled sound of his voice calling her name and asking her to stay with him. She tried to answer him, but her dazed mind was unable to utter coherent words. She felt cold and tired, the urge to close her eyes growing stronger with each passing second.

"Geralt..." was all she was able to utter before everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again it was already morning, she could tell by the sunlight streaming through the window. It took her a few seconds to understand where she was. Her head was throbbing and her vision was still a little blurry, although she didn't know if it was because of the sleep or her injuries. She tried to move, but regretted it almost immediately when she felt the muscles in her body twitch in pain. She let out a hoarse grunt in protest and felt the sound of someone approaching her. It was then that she realized she was back in her room at the inn and that the man next to her was Geralt.

"You're back." he murmured, sitting down next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like absolute shit, but I'll live." she answered with honesty, making an effort to sit up in bed. Geral helped her, reminding her to take it easy as he arranged the pillow to help support her back more comfortably. "What happened exactly?"

"What do you remember?"

She took a moment to think. She remembered being thrown into the air by the bruxa's scream. She remembered the hard impact of her body against a tree trunk and falling to the cold damp ground of the forest, but it was all a blur after that. She knew she had been scared, that she thought she would die and that one of her last thoughts had been Geralt, but she was missing a few key points that would help her connect it all into a coherent line of events.

"I remember being thrown around and hitting a tree, but not much after that." she finally said, skipping the part where she vividly remembered thinking about how much she loved him.

"That's because you hit your head," he explained. "You were bleeding a lot. I barely got to you before you passed out."

There was a hint of sadness and concern in his voice that made her feel bad for taking such a risk. She could almost feel the despair he had felt at that moment just by looking into his eyes. It made her want to apologize, though she regretted it at the last second. Why would she apologize to him? For risking her life? It was her life, so his opinion shouldn't matter. For hurting herself? It wasn't as if she had done it on purpose. Besides, she wasn't sorry for what she had done. He was in trouble and she stepped in to help him. Even if she had ended up with more serious injuries —or even died— she wouldn't have cared as long as she knew he was okay because of it. His safety was always her top priority, whether it was when he arrived at her front door injured, or when they were in the middle of a battlefield. Her purpose in life was to be by his side to take care of him, so she couldn't let him die at the hands of that bruxa.

"Thank you." She spoke after a long silence. She decided to thank him instead of apologizing, it was more honest to what she really felt and not what she thought she had to say based on the expression on Geralt's face. "I'm guessing you are the one who saved me, so thank you for saving my life."

Geralt let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have had to. You were supposed to stay behind, out of harm's way." 

His intention was not to scold her so quickly. She had barely regained consciousness and he was already complaining about her actions and lack of care. He had spent the entire night awake beside her, watching her sleep in the hopes of seeing her open her eyes again. He imagined that when she did, he would hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, how terrified he had been of losing her and how happy he was to have her back. His intention was to take care of her and make her feel supported and loved. But for some reason seeing her in that weakened state had once again brought out in him that horrible terror he felt when he saw her approach the bruxa. 

If the circumstances were different, or if she were someone else, he could probably tell her openly how proud he was of the way she had handled the situation. She had been able to cast the signs without any trouble and for her first time in a battle situation with such a creature, she had been very brave and had put up a good fight. In the future, with more training, he could come to see her as a good ally on the battlefield. The problem was that her life was too important to him to risk it that way. He was used to injuries and being tossed around by the monsters he fought. Hell, he had been created specifically to endure it! But she wasn't. She was a human, fragile and delicate, not made to withstand that kind of combat.

Geralt could not remember a time in his recent past when he had felt the fear that swept over him the moment he saw her challenge the bruxa. And when she fell to the ground after being thrown several feet into the air, he felt the world around him stop for a second, stomach dropping as he waited and prayed to the gods above that she wasn't dead. The pool of blood under her head, the way her eyes slowly closed after whispering his name, it had all been too much for him. Carrying her fainted and bloodied body in his arms back to the village not knowing if she would ever wake up again filled him with a terror he never wanted to feel again in his life.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her after getting no answer from her other than a guilty look, like that of a child caught by his parents doing something mischievous.

"You were in danger," she muttered, lowering her gaze. "She was going to hurt you."

"I had it under control!"

She let out a snort of disbelief. "It didn't look like it."

"It doesn't matter what it looked like, you were supposed to stay behind! You promised you were going to listen to me this time!" Geralt raised his voice, making the princess flinch. She hated it when people yelled, especially men. It brought back bad memories of the life she had left behind. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

"I wasn't thinking! Is that what you want to hear?" She raised the pitch of her voice to match his. "I saw you on the floor and that thing flying at you and I just acted. I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay behind while the man I... care so much about got killed right in front of me." Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to blink to let them fall. She was determined not to show weakness at that moment, even though she was pretty sure Geralt could read the pain in her expression.

The witcher's cold yellow eyes softened slightly, recognizing in her the same terror he had felt. But the fact that he could understand what had been going through her head at that moment did not change the fact that her actions had been reckless and unacceptable. That was the problem with them, they cared so much about each other to the point that they would not hesitate to put their own lives at risk to save the other. If he didn't have the profession he had, maybe that wouldn't be an obstacle to their happiness. But the reality was that she could not be by his side, accompanying him in his life at all times, without being exposed to danger. 

Being a witcher meant looking danger in the face, and while he found it sweet that she cared as much for his safety and well-being as he did for hers, traveling with her would only give her more opportunities to hurt herself in order to save him. Being with him put her at risk not only because of the potential dangers they might encounter along the way, but also because of the strength of the connection they shared. She loved him so much that she was willing to sacrifice her life to save his and if he agreed to take her with him on his travels he would be consciously putting her at risk. She was a stubborn and determined woman, so Geralt could be sure that her behavior would not change no matter how many times she told him otherwise. And he loved her too much to risk losing her.

"I don't think this is going to work." Geralt said, standing up from the bed. "This was a mistake, I never should have taken you with me."

Oh.

She hadn't expected those words. She imagined he would be upset with her for disobeying him. She even expected him not to speak to her for the time it would take him to process the situation. But she didn't think he would ever regret her presence there. She thought she had done enough to prove her worth. Sure, things hadn't gone quite right, but she had proven that her skills —magical and non-magical— were of use to him. Perhaps she needed some more training, but she was very good at dealing with people and her vulnerable appearance made her the perfect bait for traps like the one they had set for the bruxa. She didn't expect Geralt to throw all that aside just because of a stupid wound.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked him, trying hard not to let her voice crack as she spoke. 

"It means I'm taking you back home as soon as you are ready to travel." Geralt announced in a firm voice before leaving the room with a slam of the door. And just like that, she was left alone, staring at the wood as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She did not speak on the way back any more than was strictly necessary. She did not smile or comment on the beauty of the scenery around her. She didn't chat with Roach in the mornings or stop to play with or heal any of the animals along the way. She didn't even take the time to smell the flowers or listen to the birds sing. It was as if she was a completely different person. It reminded Geralt of how she was when he first met her, quiet, shy and frightened, always scared to say the wrong thing. Her usual sweet and cheerful glow was absent and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it. 

He recognized that he had not treated the situation with the care he should have, but he also knew he was doing the right thing. He should never have agreed to take her on one of his trips in the first place, so everything that had happened was his fault. He had been led astray by her charms, by the fantasy of believing that their lives were compatible. He wanted it to be true so badly that he had acted without thinking and as a result had hurt the woman he loved most. He had to fix his mistake and to do so he had to start by recognizing that his dreams were just that, dreams. A future together was not possible because he had not been made to settle down and start a family and she would always be in danger if she joined his travels. So, as much as it pained him, it was best for both of them to keep their lives separate and enjoy the fleeting moments of happiness they had when their paths crossed.

Her usual attitude returned to her when they arrived at her house and it was time to say goodbye. No matter how hurt she was, she couldn't bring herself to ignore Geralt knowing that this could be the last time she would see him for a long time. She gave him a hug that was tighter and lasted longer than it probably should have. But it was what they both needed, a moment to appreciate the comforting warmth of each other's bodies, to feel the spark of love they had for each other floating in the air after days of cold silence. They both needed to tell the other that everything they felt was still there in spite of everything. And both needed to recognize it in the other to know that all was not lost.

As they parted, the princess asked Geralt to be careful, just as she always did when she said her goodbyes to him. She then entered her home and sat in the chair near the door, starting the cycle of worry and uncertainty she found herself in whenever he was away from her home. Once again, her eyes were once again fixed on the dark wood, only this time her chest was heavy with the anguish of not knowing if she would ever see Geralt walk through that door again.

[astraystayyh]

MASTERLIST

all rights reserved © astraystayyh. all pieces are works of fiction and do not represent the members in real life. do not copy, translate or repost.

OT8

╰┈➤ series.

༊*·˚ SKZ song series masterlist (completed)

༊*·˚ Winter falls | winter themed collab with @forlix (in progress)

༊*·˚ SKZ quotes series masterlist (in progress)

╰┈➤ one-shots.

༊*·˚ All for you- skz wedding vows | f.

༊*·˚ SKZ saying I love you for the first time | f.

╰┈➤ headcannons.

༊*·˚ SKZ as oddly specific love languages | f.

༊*·˚ Mundane activities you'd enjoy with SKZ | f.

༊*·˚ SKZ when you are stressed and overworked | h/c.

bang chan.

╰┈➤ one-shots & series.

༊*·˚ Pieces of you | f. a. singledad!chris. mutual pining. neigbors!au.

⟿ In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

༊*·˚ Vanilla | a. f.

⟿ Breakup with a happy ending.

༊*·˚ Beginning of the end (part 1) | a.

⟿ You are breaking up with Chan, he just doesn't know it yet.

༊*·˚ Bittersweet (part 2) | a. f. exes to lovers.

⟿ Four years later, you are back home and everything has changed.

༊*·˚ Wait for me | a. major character death.

⟿ "I think I might see you soon, my yn. You've been waiting for me, haven't you? Just like we promised."

༊*·˚ The wedding saga | f.

The impromptu proposal.

A few hours before the wedding.

The wedding and the morning after.

༊*·˚ Myth | f. friends to lovers.

⟿ Skimming across the edge of being friends and something more with Chan is a dangerous game. Even more so when you're both sharing the same bed.

"The consequence of what you do to me, help me to name it."

╰┈➤ drabbles.

༊*·˚ chan is tired and you are his sun.

༊*·˚ you're sick and chan takes care of you.

༊*·˚ when you're having a bad day and chan is still proud of you.

༊*·˚ chan comforting you through a thunderstorm.

༊*·˚ chan's hugs.

༊*·˚ chan comforting you through an anxiety attack.

lee minho.

╰┈➤ one-shots & series.

༊*·˚ Invisible thread- 1 | f, a. academic rivals to lovers. slow burn.

⟿ Your studies have been your life line for as long as you can remember, what happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

༊*·˚ Invisible thread- 2 | f. a. h/c.

⟿ In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

༊*·˚ Echoes of love | memory loss trope. a. h/c.

⟿ If given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

chapter i. to forget - chapter ii. to remember

༊*·˚ The only exception | strangers to lovers. slow burn. barista!minho.

⟿ Minho was content with straying away as far as possible from love. That is until you stumbled into his café on a rainy night, and unwittingly, into his life.

"Cause none of it was ever worth the risk, but you are the only exception."

༊*·˚ Conversations with Minho | f.

༊*·˚ A cat proposal | f.

╰┈➤ drabbles.

༊*·˚ mine.

༊*·˚ a sun and a moon.

༊*·˚ when you used to feel lonely but not anymore with minho.

༊*·˚ minho comforts you through a storm.

seo changbin.

╰┈➤ one-shots.

༊*·˚ The alternative | brother's best friend!changbin. f. ♡

⟿ You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.

"Love is a risk, but what's the alternative?"

༊*·˚ Burning in the winter wind | romcom vibes. (fake) enemies to lovers. f.

⟿ Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.

╰┈➤ drabbles.

when you're feeling sad changbin will do anything (being silly) to cheer you up.

in which jeongin (your brother) catches you making out with changbin in the kitchen.

hwang hyunjin.

╰┈➤ one-shots.

༊*·˚ The snow falls, we fall apart | friends to lovers. roomates!au. a. f. longing and pining.

⟿ when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

༊*·˚ Starry night | museum guide!reader x idol!hyunjin. f.

⟿ in which you fall in love with hyunjin through paintings.

༊*·˚ Breathe | model!hyunjin x photographer!reader. longing and pining. f.

༊*·˚ Somebody else | exes to lovers. a. miscommunication. happy ending.

⟿ You and Hyunjin have broken up, guilt and blame simmering between you both. He doesn't care anymore, or so he thought. Then why does it hurt him to see you with someone else?

"Don't want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else."

༊*·˚ You're in the wind, I'm in the water (pt.1) | friends to lovers. pinch of unrequited love (it's very much requited dw)

༊*·˚ Orange (pt.2) | f. my take on The Orange theory.

༊*·˚ Young and beautiful | f.

⟿ How you both said i love you for the first time.

༊*·˚ Snow on the beach | f. implied soulmates.

⟿ You've never said i love you to Hyunjin but you've both always known.

༊*·˚ Say yes to heaven | a. f. (pt. 1)

⟿ Seven minutes in heaven except you're heartbroken and hyunjin has a huge crush on you.

༊*·˚ Say yes to me | f. (pt. 2) ♡

⟿ After your seven minutes in heaven, hyunjin wants to plan out how he'll finally confess to you. except you come knocking on the door of his rented cabin unannounced. at 10:53 pm. the perfect time for love, he comes to learn.

༊*·˚ When I fell in love | f.

⟿ It's your birthday and Hyunjin has a surprise gift for you- all the moments he fell in love with you in.

༊*·˚ You and I | a. happy ending.

⟿ In which you wrongly lash out at Hyunjin and have to mend it back. Human character who makes mistakes and apologizes for them.

༊*·˚ Conversations with Hyunjin | f.

╰┈➤ drabbles.

༊*·˚ serenity.

༊*·˚ mornings with hyunjin.

༊*·˚ nights with hyunjin.

༊*·˚ hyunjin and touch starved reader.

༊*·˚ you've had a nightmare and Hyunjin sings you to sleep while it's raining.

༊*·˚ in which you're in love with hyunjin and you're both swimming in a lake.

༊*·˚ hyunjin with glasses and a tiny ponytail brainrot.

༊*·˚ hyunjin is your friend except you're making out in his car backseat.

༊*·˚ your reaction to hyunjin's new burgundy hair.

༊*·˚ valentine’s with hyunjin.

han jisung.

╰┈➤ one-shots.

༊*·˚ Volcano | Enemies to lovers. slow burn. f. a.

⟿ You've never gotten along with han, your mutual prejudices ruining any prospect of friendship between you both. but you slowly realize that you are more similar than what you originally thought- your darkness recognizing his, and his light yearning for yours.

"I'll take care of you. It's terrible work. Not to me, not if it's you."

༊*·˚ 5422 | a. f.

⟿ Your morning after a fight with Han.

༊*·˚ Backburner | Exes who can't move on. a.

⟿ It's been seven weeks since Han broke up with you. And yet he's still calling you, every saturday night, without fault. And even though you try not to, you still pick up each time.

"You'd think I'd be a fast learner. But guess I won't ever mind crisping up in your backburner."

lee felix.

╰┈➤ one-shots.

༊*·˚ If the world was ending | estranged childhood best friends to lovers. a. f.

⟿ Felix has always been there with you, from the moment you've met him when you were 8 years old. Until he suddenly no longer was, and you were left to grapple with the consequences of his absence- and those of his return.

"If the world was ending you'd come over, right?"

༊*·˚ Scream! | f. h/c.

⟿ When you are overwhelmed by the stress of your studies, your boyfriend Felix will do anything to cheer you up.

╰┈➤ drabbles.

༊*·˚ red lollipop.

༊*·˚ you apply lip gloss on felix but it takes an emotional turn because he's too pretty.

༊*·˚ cooking with felix.

kim seungmin.

╰┈➤ one-shots.

༊*·˚ In my dreams | (Fake) enemies to lovers. a. h/c. slow burn. ♡

⟿ Seungmin has never liked you. You never understood why, but you were slowly coming to terms with it. However, you gradually come to learn that there is more to his feelings than what meets the eye.

"I'm sorry that I misjudged you, until you wiped my tears off away."

༊*·˚ Photobooth | f.

⟿ Your first date with seungmin, except he pretends he's confident when he's just as nervous as you.

╰┈➤ drabbles.

༊*·˚ seungmin's silent comfort.

༊*·˚ when you realize you don't have to be perfect around seungmin.

༊*·˚ enemies to lovers (for a night) with seungmin.

༊*·˚ seungmin thinks you’re the prettiest at your most ordinary.

yang jeongin.

╰┈➤ one-shots.

༊*·˚ You're sexy I'm sexy | friends to lovers. fluff and tension.

⟿ Jeongin is out with his friends, and you. You're tipsy and sitting on his lap, and he doesn't think he can keep his crush for you at bay anymore.

"It could be simple as loving on each other with no strings."

༊*·˚ Please fall before I fall | best friends to lovers. mutual pining but they think it's unrequited love.

⟿ 3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way). holidays themed.

╰┈➤ drabbles.

༊*·˚ jeongin when you are sad and don't know why.

༊*·˚ jeongin's duality.

[velvetjune]

the nursery rhyme puzzles might be one of my favorite parts of game. They’re one of the aspects of Saga’s storyline that early on introduce the FBC and the theme of fiction with reality that would be an entire case for her, and later a major source of conflict. All the whimsical poems and dolls that are soon revealed to have direct correlation to Saga and her worries. Is it all a coincidence? Was the act of making this art already affected by Saga’s role and that’s why some of the rhymes are personal? It adds to the mystery that’ll likely never be fully answered, and makes Saga and the player uneasy.

Then, the final doll!—the father that looks like a certain talk show host in the dark place, holding his child. Specifically contained away from any other dolls and the witchfinder’s station, but never given a reason why. Of course, there’s a creepy poem repeated over the station paralleling Saga’s life, but I love that it speaks of the father, Door, keeping an eye on and trying to protect the hero, Saga.

Naturally, Campbell, the annoying FBC researcher, was listening in and wanted to see Saga face the consequences of opening a threshold and seeing what comes through the “doorway.” Only for him to die (?) instead. Such a classic mad scientist ending; It’s comically funny after the haunting mystery of the station. While it could simply be him being sent or consumed by the Dark Place, the chance that it could be Mr. Door watching Campbell try to sabotage his daughter and opening a door for Campbell to face whatever Horrors of the dark place is. so good. What a conclusion to what seemed like a fairly nonsensical puzzle side quest.

[v-albion]

TMNT AU COMPETITION MASTERPOST

# TMNT au competition general tag

Mommy Issues Squad TM

Fancy boys

Intro

Part 1: Welcome to the Competition!

Part 2: Find Swanatello

Part 3: Open Your Shell to Find Your Wings

Part 4: Sorry I'm Late

Part 5: Cerise

Part 6: Speakeasy

Part 7: Treats and gifts

Part 8: Well Wishes

Part 9: Red Rover

Part 10: Fear’s Embrace

Part 11: Lost and Found AU

Part 12: Miscellaneous

Part 13: Nope, No Food Fight

Part 14: Reunion

Round 1

Part 15: August AU

Look at them hanging out

Whoops we lost

Uh oh consequences

>>>Open the door saga<<<

Fear's Embrace [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] (ongoing)

Spitfire [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] (ongoing)

Teenage Mutant Meddling Turtles [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] (ongoing)

EMD AU (ongoing)

Grown Apart AU (ongoing)

Forgive Me + YWL (ongoing)

Empyrean Weeping AU (complete)

SLAU + 2AL (complete)

Age Gap AU (complete)

Little Subjects

COALT

Twin Sync

<<< Back to TC Materpost

[msgexymunson]

Forbidden Fruit Part 3

Description: as you and Eddie's relationship gets more complicated, can you keep it under wraps? 

A/N: You guys, seriously. I want to kiss you all with tongues. I'm basking in your love for this Eddie. This has turned into a full blown saga. You blow my mind, I'm so happy you guys like it. I'm waffling here I'm sure, this was going to be a 4 part series but I have too much to say so it's turning into 5 parts!! If you like it, please comment and reblog, it makes my entire year!!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll spank you and not in a nice way, age gap (Eddies 43, reader 21), p in v unprotected sex, male and female oral receiving, edging, I think that's it? 

5k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

The room is dimly lit and soaked in the stench of sex, the air so humid you could slice it up and serve it to the hungry, or at least the horny. Entwined in Eddie's lap on his armchair, your sweaty skin is sticking together and ungluing at each roll of your hips. He's gripping you harshly by the thighs, thumbs pushing bruises into the soft flesh. You barely noticed. 

He's already released inside you, it's dripping down your cunt and onto his lap, being smeared against his thighs and tight stomach. Your moans are reaching a crescendo as your fourth, or fifth, orgasm of the evening is building from deep within your core. 

Nails dragging along his shoulders, you beg for your release. 

"Oh Eddie, I'm so close, so fuckin' close, please, talk to me." 

Eddie's gone, mouth hanging open, forehead scrunched tight as he tries to focus on what you've said. 

"Wha-what d-do you wanna hear?" He battles out, on the verge of drooling. 

"Eddie, just, fuck, tell me things, I like it when you talk to me." 

Eddie stutters out, "h-hey hot stuff." 

Letting out a belly laugh you stop your movements, shaking with your amusement. 

"Hey hot stuff?!" You giggle, running a sticky hand through Eddie's salt and pepper hair, "are you from a 50s cartoon?" 

"I panicked! You put me on the spot. Fuck, stop laughing your clenching my dick, fuck!" 

That only served to make your laughs louder, giggling uncontrollably. It's too much for him, stuttering out a premature release deep inside you. 

You're too tickled to care, laugh continuing, making his seed spill out as your squeeze. He laughs too then, pulling you to him in a bone crunching embrace. He breathes in your scent, nose pushing into the crook of your neck. 

"I wish you could stay." 

The laughter subsides at his confession. You pull away to cradle his cheek, eyes brimming with tears at your outburst, and with something else you weren't prepared to admit just yet. 

"So do I, but I've gotta go home." 

He looks up into your eyes, hand coming up to cup your cheek, mirroring your movements. 

"Just once, I want to wake up with you in my bed, where you belong." Stomach fluttering at his words, you can only sigh in response. You'd both spent the last three months trying to avoid those sorts of words. Three months of sneaking around, of carnal bliss.   

Back to reality. 

You peel yourself off of him before you both say something you regret. 

"Right, I better clean up." He waves his arm at you, gesturing for you to go ahead, though he doesn't look at you. 

After a quick shower, you find your clothes all around the house, where you'd flung them a few hours ago. 

Returning to the living room, you see Eddie in his underwear, head in his hands. 

"You OK baby?" 

He lifts up, flashing you a winning grin, eyes crinkling. It looks forced, but you don't push it. 

"I'm great sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" 

"Sure." You smile back, making your way towards him to give him a quick kiss to his full lips. Walking back to the door frame, about to make your exit through the back door, you turn at the last minute. 

"See you later, hot stuff." 

Eddie laughs and throws a cushion at you, missing by a hair. "Bye sweetheart." 

Sneaking out into the night air, you wipe back an errant tear. 

Fuck, this was getting complicated. What the hell am I doing? Catching feelings for this man. 

You breathe, steady yourself, and walk silently over to your house. 

********************

Excitement bubbling in your chest, you had an idea you knew Eddie was going to love. You spin your car keys in your hand,  practically skipping to his back door.

And fling it open. 

And see your Dad, sitting on a chair opposite Eddie, drinking a beer. 

'Dad!" You squeak, surprise lacing your voice entirely uninvited. 

"Hey honey, what are you doing here?" He's smiling, but confused. 

Think, you need to think, before he does! 

"I was-" you spy your keys in your hand, an idea striking you suddenly, "I was giving my keys to Ed- to Mr Munson. He was going to give my car a once over, weren't you?" Your eyes flash over to Eddie, to plead with him. He owned the auto shop after all. It almost appalled you how quickly the lie had come.

"Of course sweetheart, get it fixed up real nice for you." 

He holds his hand up and you toss your keys over to him. He grips them with no issue and shoves them in a pocket without a further glance towards you. 

"Well that's mighty sweet of you Eddie." Your father beams at his friend, his best friend. 

"No worries, you know I'm here to help." His best smile, his forced one, is flashed at your Dad, not you. 

"Thanks Mr Munson!" You chime out and leave swiftly, running back to your house and your room, with a sigh of relief. 

Fuck that was close. 

You were sick of this. Sick of the tiptoeing around, of the games, the lies. It was becoming more and more tempting to just admit everything, consequences be damned. You're a grown woman after all. 

You need to speak with Eddie. 

********************

The following evening you're sitting cross legged on your bed, studying. 

Familiar boots are clomping up the stairs. Looking up, you hear the softest knock at your door. 

"Come in Eddie." 

The door swings open. He enters, and shuts it, tossing your keys on the bed. 

"I'm sick of this sweetheart." 

Looking up at him, he looks defeated. You're dreading the next words you're sure are about to spill from his lips. The lips you had kissed a thousand times, that you want to kiss a thousand times more. But they aren't what you expect. 

"Do you want to go away with me this weekend? I've booked a hotel, a nice one. Friday night and Saturday night." 

Relief flooding your chest, you grin up at him. 

"That sounds real nice Eddie." 

"Good. I'll see you soon sweetheart." 

He plants a kiss to your lips, a soft one, full of hope and promise. It's a start.

*********************

As you got into your car, you noticed it had been cleaned. Thoroughly. Shaking your head, you start it up, and start to drive to where Eddie had asked to meet you. He'd been awfully mysterious about the whole thing, only serving to peak your curiosity further. 

It even drives nicer too. 

You're not sure what he'd done, but it didn't surprise you. Mr Fix It. Humming satisfaction, you pull into a parking lot of what looked like a very swish hotel, all gold fixtures and huge glass windows. 

Surely he's not booked this place?

You'd almost expected a motel, or at least a chain place. This looked fancy. 

When you're exiting your car, grabbing your overnight bag, you spot Eddie's pick up, and a familiar figure leaning against it. 

Fuck, he's so handsome. 

Every time you see him, it feels like the first time. His hair is a halo around him, glowing in the waning light of the sun. You look at those toned arms, one around his middle, the other holding a cigarette to his lips, and wet your lips. 

Almost stumbling towards him, you watch as his face splits into a childlike grin, broad and genuine. As you approach, you spot the deep lines around his eyes, the bags beneath them. It looks like he's not getting enough sleep. 

As soon as you're in range he wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you into his body close. Stiffening for just a moment, you melt at his words. 

"It's OK baby, no one knows us here. I missed you." 

"Missed you too. What did you do to my car?" 

"Had it cleaned. Changed the oil. Replaced the brake pads." 

"Eddie what do I owe-" 

"Shut up. You don't owe me a thing." 

You break away to touch a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." He grabs your bag before you can protest, shouldering it, and holding his bag in the same hand so he can hold your hand in the other. 

"Follow my lead, OK?" 

You nod, perplexed but trusting, as you reach the grand doorway. Eddie releases your hand briefly to open the door for you, and he ushers you inside. 

"Hey, Mr Munson here, checking in?" He nods at the hotel check in staff, arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

The check in guy, a skinny guy with tousled blond hair grins at you both. 

"Ah, Mr and Mrs Munson! Welcome! I spoke with you on the phone." 

Mrs Munson??

Eddie grins and holds you closer. 

"Oh yeah, Carl right? We're here to check in." 

"Oh course, honeymoon suite eh? Well, here is your key, there's a little surprise waiting for you. It's all paid up, just use the elevator to your left. Thank you for staying with us." 

He winks at you both as Eddie takes the key and turns you towards the elevator. 

"Mrs-" you begin, but Eddie grips your shoulder, which is enough to silence you. 

"Thanks Carl, appreciate it." He throws over his shoulder, steering you. 

The elevator ride is silent as Eddie grins at you in the mirror. It even smells fancy, air laced with sweetness and flowers. 

Reaching the room, he holds the door open for you. Your breath stops in your throat at the sight, letting out a gasp.

As you walk in, you take in the sheer size of it. This wasn't a room, it was a whole damn apartment. 

Fresh flowers sit in a glass vase as you enter, coating the place with the soft fragrance of rose and lily. Once you're in the room proper, you notice the sheer size of the bed, a monstrosity you're sure they must have craned in here, covered in crisp linen sheets and soft rose petals. The carpet feels plush, making you conscious of how dirty your sneakers were. The whole place looked so expensive, you were afraid to touch it. 

On a solid wood sideboard by the wall was an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside it. Two fluted glasses sat either side. You pick up the card leaning against it, and read it aloud. 

"Congratulations Mr and Mrs Munson, enjoy the champagne, with compliments from the management team. Care to explain, Eddie?" 

He looks sheepish, scratching his neck, bags abandoned at his feet. 

"I told them we eloped, and had to book a last minute honeymoon, and they were kind enough to give me this suite at the normal room rate." 

"Sneaky fucker." You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Thank you, it's gorgeous." 

"You're welcome. Hope you don't mind playing the wife when we're downstairs?" 

Stomach erupting in butterflies, you reply, "not at all, sounds like fun." 

Pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, curiosity gets the best of you. 

"If I was your wife, and this was our honeymoon, what would you do?" 

A playful smirk pulls at his lips. "Well, first of all, I would have carried you in here, but I suppose I can start now." He bends suddenly and lifts you up, earning a surprised shriek from you. 

"I would put you on the bed, like this," he says in his running commentary, placing you down amongst the rose petals with exaggerated care, "and I would kiss you, like this." 

He softly strokes your face as he leans over you, and his lips brush your cheek, so lightly it was as if you'd imagined it. Then a further feather light touch to your jaw, and another at the corner of your mouth. The care he's taking has your heart flip flopping in your chest. 

When he envelops you in a sensual kiss, it astonishes you. He's usually so rough and primal, but this is different. You lose yourself in his kiss, in the fantasy. For a moment, you really are his newly wed wife laying in your marital bed. 

Opening your mouths to each other, his tongue massages yours ever so slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. Passion is rolling off of that tongue, every word that had been unspoken before this moment flows into you, forcing an errant tear to roll from your eye and down your temple. 

He breaks the kiss and stares into your eyes as they flutter open. If he notices your tear, he doesn't mention it. His hand brushes a couple of straggling hairs away from your face, his soft brown eyes boring into your own. 

"Then," he whispers, voice bordering on cracking, you notice, "I would worship your body, exactly the way you deserve sweetheart." 

"Eddie," you whisper back. "Show me." 

His lips find yours again, just as sweetly, but with an undercurrent of desire burning within it. 

A large hand drifts to your shirt, popping open the first button, then the second, then the third. Black lace and satin is displayed as the shirt falls open, the new bra you bought especially for him. Humming his approval, he traces the edge with his finger. 

"You get this just for me baby?" He smirks, fingers running back and forth, sending pinpricks of heat across your chest. 

"Y-yes" you stammer out, squirming under his gaze. 

"Already stuttering? I've not even touched you yet." 

Usually you'd bite back at a smug comment like that, instigating the push and pull game you two often played. Not today though. You merely whine as his hand palms your breast over the soft fabric. 

Moving down your frame, he leaves gentle kisses to your collarbone, your sternum, the top of each breast. 

"Fuck you are so beautiful." Hand tracing the swell of each breast, he moves it lower, traversing your stomach, making muscles flex under his movements. Unbuttoning your jeans with practised actions, he sees the front of your panties peeking out of their denim confines. 

"Matching? That's sweet of you." 

Just him pressing a kiss to your clothed mound and running his tongue under the hem of your underwear has you wriggling. He laughs softly and gets up to your dismay. 

He doesn't go far. Just to the foot of the bed, taking your feet in his hands one by one and removing your shoes and socks. A kiss is even placed delicately on the top of each foot. 

"Eddie, my feet are all gross." You half laugh and half cringe. 

Looking shocked up at you, he responds, "Sweetheart, they're not gross, they're your feet. I'd suck your toes if you asked me to." 

"Eddie!" You shriek, hiding in your hands. 

"What? Some people like that kinda thing." 

He removes his own boots, socks and shirt, leaving him standing over you in just his jeans. Every time you see his naked torso it has you panting, wanting. The curves of his muscles that react so well under your fingertips. The tattoos that you have kissed a thousand times. The happy trail that you want to run your tongue over, and down, down, down. 

He straddles your lap then, pulling you up to take off your shirt, holding you close to unclip your bra and gently drag it down your arms, whispering over your skin. 

Stopping for a moment, he looks you in the eyes, hand cupping your chin. 

"Eddie, I-" but you never finish your sentence, as his other hand has reached your breast, tweaking your bare nipple suddenly. You breathe out a gasp as he hums in satisfaction. 

Pecking a tiny kiss to the end of your nose he says softly, "lie back princess." 

Complying, you snuggle into the downy pillows.  

He's on you then, mouthing at your breasts, tongue running around your nipples, nipping, sucking. 

"Oh God, Eddie!" Reaching to his toned chest he bats your hands away. 

"Nuh uh sweetheart, no touching. Just enjoy it." 

Huffing, you put your hands to your sides, balling them into tiny fists. 

Starting to move lower, he kisses your stomach, and leaves little love bites on your hip bones. 

"These are really pretty." Hooking rough fingers into your panties, he starts to pull them down, then looks up at you in surprise. 

"You shaved?" 

"Yeah, I-I thought- I thought you might like it." 

"You went all out for me didn't you princess?" He's flashing you a lazy grin, teeth showing as his tongue licks his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth as if he can't believe his luck. 

Then your panties are on the floor and his head is buried between your thighs, tongue lapping, lips kissing, fingers dancing over your skin. Stubble is burning the tops of your thighs but you can't find it in you to care, legs tightening around his head as if you relish the burn.

The coil in your stomach is tightening, about to burst out. Legs quivering around Eddie's head of their own accord. 

"You about to come baby?" 

You whine, knowing he won't take that, he never does. 

"Y-yes Eddie, fuck-" He pulls away at the last minute. 

"Eddie what the hell?" You lean up on your elbows, sending him an admonishing glare. 

He laughs, a self satisfied smirk plastered over his face that makes your belly warm. 

"I'm worshipping you sweetheart. You trust me?" 

"Yes." You say, without hesitation, quicker than you would answer anyone with that question. So quickly it shocks you a little. 

"Then just enjoy it. I'm gonna build you up sweetheart, ok? Just trust me. Tell me when you're close." 

You nod your agreement as he bends in between your spread legs again, kissing you all over. 

His tongue is breaching your hole, licking your wetness as his fingers glide over your swollen clit sending sparks of sensation through you. 

Your orgasm creeps up impressively fast, rippling through your nerves. It takes a lot to tell him, but you have to. 

"Eddie, I'm close- so close, fuck!" You slam your fists into the bed as he pulls away and laughs. 

"Oh, poor baby, it's OK, this is gonna feel real good." His mocking tone is everything. It shouldn't turn you on this much but it does. 

"Eddie, please, oh please, I need to come, please make me come!" You reach for the back of his head but he swats your hands away again. 

"What did I tell you? Behave. Next time I'll have to tie you up." 

A guttural moan escapes your throat at the thought of being tied up, at his mercy.

"Oh, you like that idea? Dirty girl."

He looks at you with pride, thick fingers stroking through your wet heat and finding their mark. He slides two fingers in with ease, your dripping arousal slicking his fingers as he curls them up inside and presses his other hand to your lower stomach, forcing you into the bed. Full lips wrap around your clit suckling softly as the pressure mounts inside, harder than you've ever felt. 

"Fuck, its too much, I can't-"

He breaks his lips away from you for a second, hot breath on your cunt as his fingers push into that spot that has you reeling. 

"You can. You can take it. Let go. Come for me." 

The feeling of his fingers is all consuming. An embarrassing full sensation is boiling in your gut beginning to lash out. You moan, fingers clenching onto the bedclothes, white knuckled. Your vision is darkening at the edges as spots dance and swirl over your eyes. 

The wetness hits first before the feeling reaches its true crescendo, shooting out of your cunt in a gush of slick, enough to force Eddie's fingers from you. The flat of his tongue still presses harshly on your clit as you ride his mouth shamelessly. 

Then it washes over you. Wave after wave of intense pleasure, a hurricane force of ecstasy. Your back arches off the bed as you scream and babble his name over and over in a prayer to his prowess. 

Finally collapsing into a sweat soaked, slick covered heap, your entire body relaxes, tension everywhere dissipated. There's nothing, not a thought in your head, except for a slight tingle saying you should really look up and, well, thank him. Not that you can move right now. Your neck feels about as substantial as a soap bubble. 

Then, Eddie's hovering over you, wiping tears from your face that you hadn't been aware of until now. Refocusing your vision, you finally take him in. 

"What the hell- that was- holy-" words are hard. Breathing is harder.

Eddie chuckles, leaving a light dusting of kisses to your cheek and jaw, like freshly fallen snow. 

"You," he says between pecks, "squirted. Hard. Jesus sweetheart, you're perfect." 

You'd expect a smug grin, that self satisfied smirk you've seen a hundred times, but he looks almost in awe of you. 

"Thank you." It comes out as a croak. 

He falls to the side of you, scooping you up in his arms and holds you close to his chest. 

"Anytime sweetheart." 

********************

An executive decision was made between the two of you; whilst you both appreciated that there was a first class swanky restaurant downstairs, that would mean actually leaving the bed. Neither of you were prepared to do this however, so it would have to wait until tomorrow night. 

Right now, room service, soft hotel dressing gowns and pay per view were much more inviting. So, appetites sated, you cosied up to each other, flicking through the options on the TV. 

"What you in the mood for, horror, or-" 

"Or sci fi, I love both really." 

"Really?" He hugs you closer. "I knew there was a reason I liked you." 

"Oh, the mind blowing sex is nothing to do with it, huh?" You smirk, poking him in the ribs. 

"You wound me sweetheart. Hey, what about Alien? Sci fi and horror."

"I've never actually seen it." You admit. 

"Really? It's a classic!" 

"Sorry but it came out before I was born, you know!" 

"Fuck." He puts the remote to the side and turns to face you. 

"Listen, sweetheart. Have you thought about, well, us?" 

"What do you mean?" You ask, tilting your head to face him.

"I mean, if we did come clean. Aren't you worried at all what people might think of you? About your reputation?" 

Laughing out loud, you swat his chest with your hand, letting it linger there. 

"I don't give a damn about my reputation!" 

"Alright Joan Jett!" He chuckles, holding your hand and bringing it to his lips. He holds it there as he continues. 

"I just don't know if you've thought about us, you know, walking down the street. People looking, asking each other if that old man's her partner or her father." 

You look at him then, really look at him. He's frowning, deep lines etched into his brow, eye wrinkles deepened by worry. Reaching to his face, you stroke his salt and pepper stubble, rough against your smooth hand. His hair has the same streaks, though not as prominent. There's no denying he's much older than you, but nothing could stop you being anything other than entirely enamoured with him. He is ruggedly handsome; those deep brown eyes of his bore into your soul, each look making your heart jump and your thighs clench. 

"Eddie, I don't care. I lo… I really care about you. So much. I don't give a fuck what people might think. I just- I want you to be mine. Not a doubt in my mind." 

The look he's giving you softens and he brings you in for the softest kiss to your lips. He's pulling away, but you're deepening the kiss, climbing into his lap, hands holding his face. 

Then, you move lower, planting kisses to his jaw, his chin, and his neck. Sucking a bruise into the side of his throat, your teeth graze him as he hisses at the contact. 

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" He asks, amused. 

"Shh baby, I'm worshipping." You smile into his neck, pulling his dressing gown to the side and sinking your teeth into the join of his neck and shoulder. 

"Fuck, princess, I'm sure I was more delicate." He huffs a laugh, but his breathing is laboured and his face is flushing. 

"Yeah, but I'm catering my worship. I know you like it like this." 

Sitting up, you pull his gown open, raking fingernails over his chest. 

"Holy hell- sweetheart, you ain't wrong." 

The gown you're wearing is slung to the floor, leaving you nude, straddling his hardening cock. Eddie's hands reach out as if on instinct and it gives you great pleasure to swat them away. 

"Nuh uh. No touching." 

"Rude." 

"Fair." You counter, positioning yourself in between his legs. Fingers trace his tattoos, his abs. Your tongue runs along in their wake, stopping to nip and suck. One spot has him flexing his muscles, a rushing groan runs from his throat. You can't help but notice his dick twitching under you. 

Moving further, you draw his skin into your mouth once more, leaving hickies on his hip bones, mirroring the marks he left on you. 

Hovering over his throbbing member, you breathe over it, hot breath fanning over the tip. 

"Fuck, sweetheart!" 

He almost looks angry as you look up to him, veins protruding in his neck. 

"You OK baby?" You frown, hand reaching down to cup at his balls and squeezing gently. 

"Oh my God, yes, just, please." 

Smiling, you continue to fondle him, and take the tip into your mouth, sucking softly, tasting salt and flesh and Eddie. Grunting his approval, you feel fingers graze the back of your head, until he remembers and tears them away reluctantly. 

Humming amusement at his predicament, you take more and more of him into your mouth, swallowing around his length. Hips buck up a little into you, making you shove him down with your free hand. 

Rolling the tip around and around in your mouth, you lick at the slit. Every movement has Eddie making little noises in his mouth, tiny shakes beginning to take over his thighs. 

You take him deep again, up and down, spreading your spit around the base as makeshift lube as you hollow your cheeks. 

"Sweetheart, that's so good, look at me." 

Eyes flash up to meet his, staring up through lashes dewed with tears. 

"Fuck, my dirty fucking girl. Can you take a little more?" 

Maintaining eye contact, you take him all the way to the base, squeezing a thumb in the palm of your hand to distract you. Even so, you can't help but gag a little around his intimidating length. 

"Fuck, sweetheart- that's- oh God" He's stammering, breathing heavy as more pre cum hits the back of your throat. 

Continuing to work at his length, tightening your grip on his balls, it's not long until you hear him again. 

"I'm gonna cum-" 

And you pull away. 

"Fuck!" His head thumps against the pillow, fists tight and hard on the bed. 

"I guess I fuckin' deserve that, huh?" 

You giggle devious, kitten licking at his shaft. 

"Poor baby. It's gonna feel real good, promise." Winking at him, he shakes his head, hand coming up to hold his forehead. 

Mouth on his tip again, sucking, licking. He's moaning louder, stomach shining with a thin layer of sweat. The deeper it goes, the more he groans, until you feel him twitching in your throat again, his noises becoming urgent, more high pitched. 

As you release your grip on him again, he grunts in exasperation. 

"Don't try sneaking it out Eddie, I can tell you know." 

"I know, just, please, I can't. I- just, please!" 

He's never looked so desperate, torso flushed in exertion, hands grasping at the bed sheets urgently, chest heaving with ragged breaths. 

You take one of his balls in your mouth, hand working his shaft, a teasing thumb rubbing over the wetness of his head. He's whimpering now, a sound you've never heard from him, but fuck, it's so pretty. 

An idea strikes you suddenly. Holding onto his shaft, you stare straight up at him, and spit onto his swollen head, hard. The noise that escapes him is nearly inhuman; a guttural, animal noise. A desperate noise. 

You take him once more into your mouth, your lips smearing your spit all over him, and swallow around his length, again and again. That does it. He cries out your name as he releases into you, spurting cum deep in your throat, over and over. The volume is truly tough to take, it just keeps coming. 

Swallowing until you can't help but splutter, you pull away, wiping your mouth of what you couldn't take. 

Sitting back on your heels, you admire your handiwork. 

Fuck I think I broke him. 

He's not moved, arms spread in supplication on the bed, eyes unfocused, chest still heaving. 

The look on his face as he finally registers you when you're leaning over him is priceless. You want to save it in your head, frame it, immortalise it forever. 

"Hey baby, you good?" You ask, giving him soft kisses. 

"Hmmm. You- you're so fuckin' special" He manages, a clumsy hand reaching to stroke your face and nearly missing. 

Laughs bubble up as you stroke his hair out of his face. 

"So, we'll watch Alien, yeah?" 

Eddie stares at you like you've grown two heads. 

"Just- give me a second, sweetheart." More panting breaths. "I think you just sucked out my soul." 

Giggling hysterically, you lay next to him and cradle his head to your chest. The movie can wait a minute. 

Tag list (if you want to stay please reblog my sweethearts!) 

@hereforshmut @g4ys0n @winchester-angel @eddiemunson95 @corrodedcoffincumslut @shazzie33 @severusswife @daluamaia1 @callsignraver @lightvixxen @newlips @eddiethefreakkmunson @hollster88 @ali-r3n @bebe07011 @roanniom @eddiesprincess86 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @daisyridleyyyy @lolalanaie @dandelionnfluff @latedawnsearlysunsets92 @luv-flor7777 @topaz1983 @pixxie2004 @harmfulb1tch @findmeincorneliastreet @eddies-puppet @fertilitygodkiszka @freshsagegarden

[gophergal]

Behold, a flock of Medics

(Rambling under the cut)

Ok so y'all know about that semi-canon compliant AU I have that I've mentioned before in tags n shit? Fortress Rising? Well, Corey (my dear older sib, @cursed--alien ) and I talk about it like it's a real piece of media (or as though its something I actually make fanworks for ffs) rather than us mutually bullshitting cool ideas for our Blorbos. One such Idea we have bullshit about is that basically EVERY medic that meets becomes part of a group the Teams call the "Trauma Unit," they just get along so well lol

Here's some bulletpoints about the Medics

Ludwig Humboldt - RED Medic, hired 1964, born 1918. Introduced in Arc 1: Teambuilding. The most canon compliant of the four. Literally just my default take on Medic

Fredrich "Fritz" Humboldt - BLU Medic, clone of Ludwig, "Hired" 1964. Introduced in Arc 2: The Clone Saga. A more reserved man than his counterpart, he hides his madness behind a veneer of normalcy. Honestly Jealous of Ludwig for how freely he expresses himself. Suffers from anxiety, which he began treating himself. Has since spiraled into a dependency on diazepam that puts strain on his relationship with Dimitri, the BLU Heavy.

Sean Hickey - Former BLU Medic, served with the "Classic" team, born 1908. Introduced in Arc 3: Unfinished Business. A man who who has a genuine passion for healing and the youngest on his team. Unfortunately, his time with BLU has left him with deep emotional scars, most stemming from his abuse at the hands of Chevy, the team leader. His only solace was in his friendship with Fred Conagher, though they lost contact after his contract ended. For the past 30 years, he's lived peacefully, though meeting the Humboldts has left him feeling bitter about his past experiences.

Hertz - Prototype Medibot, serial no. 110623-DAR. Introduced in Arc 4: Test Your Metal. The final prototype created by Gray Mann's robotics division before his untimely death forced the labs to shut their doors. Adopted by the Teams after RED Team found him while clearing out a Gray Gravel Co. warehouse. As with all the Graybots, he was programmed based on a combination of compromised respawn data and intel uncovered by both teams' respective Spies. Unlike the others, however, his dataset is incomplete, which has left him with numerous bugs in his programming. His speech (modeled off Ludwig and Fritz's) often cuts out, becoming interspersed with a combination of default responses for older Graybot models and medical textbook jargon all modulated in emotionless text-to-speech

[valorant-drabbles]

The iso x reader is really good! Alas, a part 3 would be great where they confess or reader's feelings get outed by either yoru or phoenix and gets teased about when reader will tell Iso but he already knows and reciprocates and just wants to hear it directly from them

The long awaited Part 3 of the Iso Saga!

Consider this my belated Christmas Present to all you Iso-Lovers!

~

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: Mild Swearing

Gender-Neutral Reader

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Cold Shoulder

Reader x Iso

It had been a fair few months since Iso had officially joined the Protocol, and the two of you were nearly inseparable. Whenever being sent on a mission, if there was a free spot on a team, you'd always try to find excuses to bring the each other along if one was going without the other. To the point that Brimstone had to pull you each aside and gently scold you. You simply can't be on every mission together. What matters is the skillset that is put into each team, not the person specifically.

It was a tad embarrassing being called out by Brimstone like that, and overtime, it was made clear that he wasn't the only one aware of how close you two were. How you and Iso were rarely seen without the other by their side, never too far if they weren't in view. It was almost instinctual, to be nearby.

Far too soon, a few of the other agents started picking up on certain hints that went over even your head, though you saw yourself as rather... aware of how others felt about you, especially after spending however long by their side. For instance, you knew Yoru often had an ego to show off, and acted like he didn't give a shit about anybody; but he would have your back if you were in danger, without a doubt. He'd warp to your side without a second thought. No matter how many times he'd deny it, he'd claim it was a coincidence.

So you were confident that if somebody's feelings towards you changed, you'd catch it. Or, if your own feelings had changed from platonic to... something more.

Boy, were you ever wrong.

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

Sage had stopped by your room to visit, bringing some freshly brewed herbal tea alongside a small plate of biscuits. She'd made a habit of making sure every agent was alright mentally, providing a safe space to vent or talk about feelings without judgement. She felt quite responsible for both the physical state of everyone, as well as their mental state. To put it simply, she was acting as the Protocol's therapist. And she was damn good at it.

Opening your door, you stepped aside to allow Sage entrance to your room. She'd already alerted you of your monthly checkup that day, so you'd made sure to tidy your bedroom as best as possible. She had always given off motherly vibes, so the last thing you wanted was for her to see a messy room on one of the few times she visits.

Sitting down on the floor, Sage sets up her favourite tea set on the short table by your bed, and begins to pour two cups of herbal tea. The tea set was painted with vines and flowers, giving off some Skye vibes. Perhaps it was a gift from her?

You sit yourself across from Sage, sitting on your legs comfortably as you reach for one of the cups, perhaps adding a little sugar to the warm liquid before settling into a more... relaxed mindset.

"So." Sage had started, hands wrapped delicately around her own teacup. "I see you and Iso have been progressing very well over the last few months, mm?"

You gave a simple nod. "In combat, we triumph over our opponents with ease. We have a good system going."

"That's wonderful to hear!... although not quite what I meant." She chuckled softly to herself, a warm smile on her face contradicting the confused look you'd given her.

"You've been getting to know Iso on a more personal level, more so than anybody. Which is a little strange, admittedly. Ever since you joined the Protocol, you usually kept to yourself and didn't make many connections with other agents. So I'm very relieved to know you've found somebody in which you can rely on-"

"Hold on." You pipe up to interrupt, eyebrows knitted together in mild confusion. "What are you talking about? Yeah, I spend some time with Iso, but I wouldn't say we're on a personal level. That makes it sound like we're friends." Or more, your thoughts added, but you are swift to dismiss the thought as quickly as it arrived.

Sage took a slow sip of her drink as she let the following silence linger amongst the room, deciding to let it sink in naturally.

Her silence made something click in your head.

"We're friends."

"Mhm." Sage confirmed. "A bit more than that, perhaps. Some of us can't help but notice how rosy your cheeks get when Iso stands a little too close to you. How you two are rarely ever seen apart. And how, aside from me, He is the only one you allow in your room; your safe haven."

Your gaze slowly drops to look at the tea in your cup, seeing your reflection in the mildly rippling liquid, caused by the mild shake of your hands. You'd never really thought you had social habits, and yet... apparently they were blaringly obvious. Giving away hints to something you didn't understand yourself. "What... what does this mean?" You ask slowly, with eyes timidly flicking back up to meet Sage's calming, blue gaze. What she said next hit you like a wall of bricks.

"I believe you are in love, Y/N."

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

Love. Sage told you that you may be in love. It made you shudder. Far too soft of a word. How were you supposed to keep up your reputation amongst your team members? They might all see you as some... lovesick fool! You hated the thought of it. What were you meant to do now...? Well, Sage had advised you to take some time to think about what she'd said, and to get in touch with your feelings. Figure out how you really feel for Iso, and if it dips into being 'love' or not.

After all, Sage didn't know everything. She simply had her theories. Though she did coach you through some ways to self-reflect. Though it did feel somewhat pointless, you indulged her idea, and spent the next few days carefully doing some serious reflection on your feelings and interactions with Iso as of late. And the more you thought on Sage's words, the more that everything kind of... made sense.

You undeniably had feelings for Iso. The two of you working so harmoniously together, and how close you were outside of missions... the way you felt an odd, fluttering feelings in your stomach. The way your cheeks heat up when he casually rests his elbow on your shoulder... these previously unexplainable feelings, suddenly making sense. Clicking together like puzzle pieces.

Step one was complete, you supposed. You were aware of your feelings... now what? What were you meant to do with these feelings now? Surely not... expressing them to Iso?

The mere thought shot a bone-cold chill down your spine. No way were you ready to do anything of the sort.

"Just... act like normal." You coached yourself in the hallway, rubbing your face in an attempt to pull yourself together. "You like Iso, so what? That won't change anything- it shouldn't. I'm sure if you just... keep acting like normal, these ridiculous feelings will eventually go away..."

"Oh, that is rich."

The sudden voice nearly caused you to draw your pistol, if it weren't for your immediate reflex to look before shooting. What a relief, you nearly put a bullet into... the wall?

The next second, you see Yoru casually step out of his portal, removing his oni-styled mask with a faint smirk on his face.

"Yoru, what have I said about spying on me?" You scolded him with a narrowing glare, subconsciously gripping the front of your shirt. The bastard had made it a personal challenge to try and scare you when you were on your own- many times having been stopped by Iso a lot of the time. Iso's reflexes were often very helpful in catching Yoru before he had the chance to startle you. Besides, he seldom actually scared you.

"I wasn't spying about you. I was just trying to get to my room without bumping into anybody, and what happens? I find out some very interesting information..." A wide smirk grew across his face, as the realization quickly dawned on you.

"Listen, you didn't hear anything, got it?" Your voice pitched higher in a mild form of panic, which simply made Yoru's grin grow wider. "Damn. You're down bad, eh?"

Gritting your teeth, you storm closer to the man, preparing to grab him, and give him a thorough threatening- only for Yoru to warp out of your vicinity, a fair few feet away; arms crossed in a taunting way. "Phoenix is gonna get a kick 'outta this. Iso as well, I bet..." He cackled softly to himself, as he casually took a step backwards and fell into another portal, vanishing completely from the hallway.

Frozen in place, your mind had to slowly catch up to the moment of what had just happened. Yoru surely wouldn't spill such a serious secret just for the hell of it... right? Right?

You couldn't trust Yoru to keep his mouth shut. He was going to tell somebody- possibly even Iso if he felt like that much of an asshole. So, with quick steps, you ran towards the commons room, desperately in search of the masked bastard who was about to expose your most precious secret.

After searching what felt like half the headquarters building, you finally managed to find him. He was leaning against the kitchen counter casually, talking to the two people he'd threatened to tell. Phoenix; who wouldn't keep his mouth shut to keep a secret to save his life... and Iso.

By chance, Yoru happened to glance in your direction, keeping his usual smirk on his face as he kept the two men's attention on himself.

"Yeah, can you believe it? I wouldn't have figured if I hadn't been there. Y/N has always been so cold..." Yoru continued to speak as if you weren't there, only making your blood boil faster than before.

"''Ey, I wouldn't say that. They just... like to keep to themselves! Like Omen!... Probably!" Phoenix chimed in to defend you, which would've made you feel a bit better if you weren't on the verge of throwing a chair at Yoru.

"Still, you really heard them say that?" The British man raised a suspicious eyebrow towards Yoru, who simply nodded. "Why would I lie about something like this? It's hilarious."

Finally, Iso seemed to have enough. He made a point to slam down his soda bottle, with his eyes firing daggers in Yoru's direction, causing the other to stiffen ever to slightly, shoulders squared subtly in a sense of defense.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I don't care for your pointless gossip? How old are you, twelve? You truly think I would take your word as fact; especially with such a delicate subject? You truly have no shame, do you?" His voice was as cold as his gaze was, slicing through the thick, tension-filled air that had consumed the room the second the line was crossed.

Yoru struggled to find any kind of defense or escape from the conversation, his gaze quickly moving from you, back to Iso. "H... hah, as if I give a shit what you think. Don't act like you're above all this. Aren't you curious over what Y/N really thinks about you? Behind that cold exterior they put up all the time?"

"They only put it up around people they can't trust, like you. Besides, even if I were to trust your word, I'd rather hear it from Y/N themself." Iso retorted, as he plucked up his soda bottle, making his way back to his room, by the look of it. You felt yourself relax. Thank god; he didn't believe Yoru... and with that scolding Yoru got, you doubted he'd be running his mouth and telling anyone else for awhile, if he knew what was good for him.

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

The next few days came and went. And you were pacing your room, twirling a knife between your fingers as you tried your best to think of how you wanted to progress with the knowledge of your feelings being... somewhat out there. Iso was aware now that it was a possibility, so... what were you meant to do now?

Sage had been there to hear you out when you needed to vent about Yoru's little 'stunt', and promised that he'd be held accountable for his gossiping behavior. All the agents were teammates, so any actions taken to potentially degrade everyone's teamwork would be dealt with and punished accordingly.

She had also assured you that there was absolutely no pressure to confess, even if Iso does know your feelings. Who knows, perhaps this was a one-time crush, and it would go away?

Well, it had already been about a week since you initially found out about these feelings, and they hadn't exactly gotten weaker. In fact, it seemed almost as if they grew stronger by each passing day you spent by Iso's side.

Sage had coached you further, to ask yourself some questions before you made any decisions that may affect you and Iso both. Take a deep breath, collect your thoughts, and ask yourself; Do you truly like Iso romantically?

Looking back on all your adventures and quiet moments with one another... how could you possibly say you didn't? Iso was somebody you felt like you could be honest with. Any chaotic feelings you might have in a single moment can be seemingly vanquished by him simply... being there. Even if you two don't talk to each other, the amount of comfort his presence alone was able to give you was something you felt like you couldn't find anywhere else. And if that wasn't an important staple in a romantic relationship... well, then maybe you were as much of a loner than Yoru had suggested.

But none of that mattered now. You felt oddly confident in your feelings, and now, knowing they were real by your own decision... it felt like you could confess to Iso. It was a bizarre experience; you'd been terrified of the idea of love and romance up until a few days ago. And now... you were actually contemplating a committed relationship with Iso? The thought still made your cheeks warm up with blush. The idea was... nice; welcomed, even.

Now it was just a matter of... figuring out how to actually confess.

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

The day of confessing came a lot faster than you'd expected.

You were often the type to plan things out ahead of time. Pick a day to confess, maybe write a few scripts for yourself so you had options of what to say when the time came... and inevitably hope it would go well. And yet... though you thought you were accounting for every possibility;

When the day came, it was... unexpected, to say the least.

You and Iso were in your room, quietly doing your own things, as the two of you usually do. And yet... today it felt different. It felt like an awkward silence that wouldn't end, no matter how many times you tried to strike up a conversation. The awkward air was indestructible, it felt like.

How were you meant to start an important talk when things are like this?

"So... I heard that Yoru got in trouble with Sage the other day." Iso suddenly spoke up, which very nearly startled you off the bed; but in a firm attempt to act like everything was normal, you stayed in place. You inhaled quietly. You got this.

"Yeah..." You started awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck, struggling to do so much as making eye contact with the other. "I... I thought I heard some arguing in the kitchen awhile back. Guess she dealt with whoever started it." Deciding to play the oblivious card, apparently. Though... did this count as lying? You weren't sure. You just hoped it wouldn't backfire on you in the long run.

"She certainly did deal with the perpetrator." He'd nodded slowly in response, his gaze moving towards you without your knowledge. "... you know, Yoru is pretty terrible at hiding when he's doing something mischievous at the cost of others. That being said; I saw you eavesdropping on us the other day." Iso couldn't hide the slight smile that grew on his face when your cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "... I mean, he kept looking in your direction and everything. It was clear someone was there."

You just wanted the ground below you to open up and swallow you whole. So lying was pointless, huh. And Iso knew you were acting off for a reason now. Shit.

"Well... whatever. It makes this whole thing easier then, I guess." You mutter dismissively, keeping your gaze away from Iso's at any cost. Though you couldn't help but be mildly curious to what Iso was looking like in that particular moment. Was he as flustered as you felt? By the knowing tone in his voice, you assumed not.

"Not quite. You know I don't listen to petty gossip." Iso responded rather dryly, raising an eyebrow at you. "And if you were there to hear what he said, then surely you know what my question is going to be."

You just wanted to flee, or hide under your bed. God, this felt humiliating... though maybe it was just because you weren't used to being so emotionally vulnerable. Every word he spoke just felt extra dangerous.

“I hardly heard the whole conversation. I kind of just… turned the corner and saw you three. Besides, you obviously know what Yoru said. Do you really need me to say anything?” You asked hesitantly, your own logic seeming to make less sense by the second; and making you dug yourself deeper into a hole.

You feel Iso place his hand gently on top of your’s. The sudden contact was finally enough to make you turn to look at him, your cheeks not any less red than they already had been. Iso gave a small, reassuring smile to you.

“Yes. Because if it’s true, I want to hear it from you, Y/N. But… only if you want to say it.”

His voice was so… comforting. Holding no judgement nor expectation. He wasn’t going to make you confess that very moment if you weren’t ready; but it was clear he knew your feelings regardless. So… what were you meant to do now? If you put it off for another day, who knows how long it’d take you to get around to confessing.

Your nervous gaze moved to look at your hands, feeling your heart rate pick up by the second. This… this was it. Now or never, you decided. Iso deserved a proper answer.

“I… I have… feelings for you. Sage believes they are… romantic feelings. And I think I agree.” You speak softly, so quietly that if the room hadn’t already been silent, he may not have heard you. You swallow the nervous lump you felt in your throat. “I… do really like you, Iso. And… I’m sorry you had to find out from Yoru first of all people…”

Before you could even think about rambling further with some inane apologies, Iso’s hand had moved to rest on your cheek before you’d realized. It all happened so fast, and yet… ever so slowly, at the same time…

Iso had slowly brought your face closer to his, pausing when you two were mere inches away from each other. He didn’t move further, wanting you to initiate further if this was something you wanted. He truly wasn’t the type to force anything onto anyone…

It admittedly took you a few seconds to realize what he was waiting for… a… a kiss? The thought seemed overwhelming at first- you’d just confessed, and now he was offering to kiss you? Was that his way of saying he felt the same?

Your heart had never beat as fast as it did in that moment. Sure, you were new to the whole… romantic-feelings thing… and by all accounts, you’d probably reject the offer in any other situation… and yet…

In those few lingering moments, with his lips so close to your’s… you couldn’t turn away. Taking all the courage you had within you, you leant forward and gently pressed your lips to Iso’s; though it was a little awkward at first, with your lack of experience.

The kiss merely lasted a few seconds before you’d pulled back, face feeling as red as a cherry. You found it hard to make direct eye contact with Iso for a few moments, before you heard him chuckle slightly.

“For someone who used to be so intimidating… you sure are adorable whenever you’re embarrassed.” He’d hummed innocently. You shot a glare in his direction and punched his arm relatively hard, earning a more genuine laugh from the man.

“I’m sorry- it’s true!” Iso snickered softly as he scooted a bit closer to you, keeping your hands intertwined ever so gently. You’d barely noticed you two had been holding hands for a short while already. “So… was my answer sufficient enough for you, Y/N?” He raised an eyebrow curiously to you, giving you a moment to pause and think.

“Mm… No. I don’t think your answer was clear enough.” You responded, rather deadpan. This gave Iso a genuine feeling of confusion, as you turned towards him, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, your face still rather red.

“Perhaps you should give me your answer again… and again.”

The two of you spent the remainder of the evening in each other’s company.

Sage may have had to heal a bruised lip or two the following morning.

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Besties are everything- Kelly, Matt, and Kelly

Summary: Jay takes you to Med after your asthma attack on a job. Matt and Kelly come up to take you home.

Warning: talk of needles and panic attacks.

Authors note: I couldn’t think of a better title. 😂 this is part 2 of I gotcha partner and (final) part 4 of the asthma saga.

————-

When Jay got you to the hospital, he immediately threw open his door and rounded the truck as Conner Rhodes pulled you out of the front seat and sat you in a wheelchair, placing an oxygen mask over your face. Conner was already giving orders to April as she pushed your wheelchair through the doors of the ED.

“I’m gonna call Kelly to let him know she’s here.” Jay said to either one of them. April nodded and promised he could come back once she got you situated. With that promise, Jay ran back to park his truck and quickly called Kelly. When Kelly didn’t answer, he called Matt.

“Hello?” Matt asked groggily, having been asleep since it was roughly 1 am.

“Matt. It’s Jay Halstead.” Jay started. “Y/n had a pretty bad asthma attack and we had to bring her to Med.” Jay explained, pacing the waiting room that only housed the intelligence unit for the time being. “Sorry to wake you, but Kelly didn’t answer.”

Matt quietly cursed as he threw off his covers and marched over to Kelly’s door. “We will be there in 15.” Matt promised, hanging up before he threw Kelly’s door open. “Sev. Wake-up. Y/n’s at Med.” Matt said, shaking Kelly’s leg from the foot of the bed.

“Huh?” Kelly mumbled, blearily glancing at Matt.

“Y/n. Med. Up.” Matt said, flipping on Kelly’s light before he went to go throw a hoodie and some shoes on. He heard Kelly curse and fall off the bed before he emerged, trying to pull on a hoodie and shove his last shoe on at the same time.

When Matt and Kelly arrived at Med, they were greeted by the intelligence unit, minus you and Jay Halstead.

“What’s the status?” Kelly asked, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Jay is with her now. They got her oxygen up, but the meds raised her heart rate and caused an anxiety attack.” Voight explained, nursing a cup of coffee as the rest of the unit napped around him.

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Kelly said, patting Voight on the back as he walked away, Matt trialing behind.

The boys easily walked pasted the nurses station and found Conner standing in your doorway. They could hear him trying to calm you down.

“Y/n. It’s the medicine talking. You know this.” Conner explained, hands casually in his pocket as he leaned in the doorway.

Your breathing was frantic as the heart monitor beeped quickly. “B-but I-I just w-want K-Kelly. Jay. P-please.” You begged, tears streaking down your face.

Kelly nudged Conner out of the way and made his way over to you. “I’m here now. It’s okay.” Kelly soothed, taking hold of one of your hands and rubbing his hand over your arm. “What happened?”

Jay sighed before explaining. “She was chasing a suspect when the flare up started. Her inhaler didn’t work and she was blue, so we brought her here. She just got done with a high dose neb and Conner wants April to do an IV to start hydrating her and to administer steroids, but she panicked.” Jay said from his spot right beside you on the bed. You had tried to escape and your partner was the only thing keep you in bed.

Behind Kelly, Matt was already getting the run down from Conner and trying to bargain with him on your behalf. Jay got up to switch places with Kelly when you sobbed and reached for your best friend. When you were like this, Kelly was your safety net and has been since y’all were kids.

Kelly wrapped you in his arms and pulled the covers up to cover your shaking form. “Shhhh. It’s alright. I know needles are scary. I gotcha. Me, Jay, Matt, and Conner just want to help. You gotta let us help you.” Kelly murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Jay sat himself on your other side, taking your hand in his. “I hate needles too, but if Conner thinks this is best, I trust him.” Jay encouraged, squeezing your hand.

You started to speak when Matt slipped into the room. “Hey squirt.” Matt greeted, squeezing your foot over the covers. “I got good news. As long as you do a breathing treatment every 4 hours, stay home for 5 days, and PROMISE to rest and drink plenty of water, Conner is willing to let the IV idea go. He is also considering letting you come home in a few minutes as long as one of us, ie me or Kelly, promise to stay with you.” Matt said, smiling as you wiped your tears and eagerly nodded. “Alright. Let me go get Conner to get your discharge papers in order.” Matt said, squeezing your foot one last time before walking out the door.

“See. It all worked out.” Jay said, smiling widely. “I’m gonna miss you partner, but I know you’ll be taken care of. I may drop by a few times though.” Jay commented, squeezing your hand.

You smiled. “As long as I’m home, you can do whatever you want.” You joked, snuggling into Kelly as you tried to fully relax, relieved to finally go home.

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@mattangel11

[yournowheregirl]

welp, this one has gotten out of hand (over 3k... yikes) but here we are! part 3 of the secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson saga (only 2 more parts after this!) 

[part 1] [part 2] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 3: coat of many colors

Only a few weeks later, Eddie starts to slip up.

Any other day he’d wake up to the sweet, sweet sounds of his favorite Dio album, but one morning he grabs an old Johnny Cash album that Wayne sometimes listens to and puts that one on instead. 

It’s nice, and even though it’s apparently recorded at an actual prison, it still feels like home (Eddie tries not to think about that too much).

On a late night when Wayne’s still at work, he fishes his old acoustic guitar from underneath his bed and starts strumming away random chords that sound like the country songs his momma played when he was little. Sometimes he still remembers the lyrics, softly mumbling them even though there’s no one around to hear them. 

It’s nice, it doesn’t sound as sweet as when his momma played it for him, but it still feels like home (Eddie actually thinks about it a lot this time).

And it’s not like he’s abandoned his usual music or anything. He still has his Judas Priest tapes in the van because his driving would probably even more reckless if he drove without any music (and isn’t that saying something). And he still loves his sweetheart more than anything, she just has to deal with sharing him for a bit.

Not a lot of many people notice it, at first. Mostly because he still keeps that part of himself hidden, safely tucked away in the comfort of his own bedroom. 

But Wayne notices, because of course does.

“Whatcha wearin’ there, son?” Wayne asks, never looking up from where his eyes are glued to the morning newspaper. 

Eddie’s halfway out the door already, car keys jingling against his rings when his uncle speaks up, turns around in the doorway. “Uh…” 

He looks down at his clothes - what is he wearing anyway? Ripped jeans - all fine, nothing new. White t-shirt - okay, not his usual color but not that strange. Forest green plaid button down and beat-up leather boots that both actually belonged to Wayne at one point - yeah, that must be it. 

“Yeah, I mean I know they’re yours… You want them back or somethin’?”

Wayne chuckles and closes the newspaper, leaning back in his chair. “No, no. Not at all. Just surprised you’re wearing it. Ain’t you meetin’ the kids?”

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie frowns. “Should I… not be wearing this?”

“Wear whatever you want.” Wayne shrugs. “It’s just nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, nice. Nice to see you bein’ comfortable wearing that sorta thing again.” Wayne says. “Lord knows you wouldn’t be caught dead in it years ago.”

Eddie thinks back to when he first came to Hawkins, with an almost empty suitcase and ratty old teddy-bear in his hand. He didn’t have any clothes that were fit for the cold Novembers in Hawkins, more used to the mild Tennessee winters, so Wayne did the best he could and dressed him up in the warmest thing he had on hand at the time. A warm, blue flannel that Eddie’s small frame almost drowned in.

Not that he cared about it at that point. He only cared about how warm and soft it felt.

Which was fine up until the point that the other kids at school started caring about their clothes and how they looked and they started laughing at Eddie’s clothes. Making fun of how poor he was that he couldn’t even afford a decent sized shirt. Teasing him in the locker room about the holes in his socks. 

He decided then and there to swear off all the clothes Wayne picked out for him and changed his style up completely. His classmates were gonna bully him anyway, but he’d be damned if they insulted Wayne in the process. 

“Well, yeah. Guess I’m goin’ back to my roots.” Eddie shrugs.

“Noticed that as well.” Wayne is smirking now, way too pleased about the whole situation and gestures to his mouth. “Your accent, Ed. Any minute now and you’ll be talkin’ like Miss Parton herself.”

Eddie’s face heats up - if only Wayne knew what he’s been up to in his spare time “Shut up, old man. You’re gonna make me late.”

He drives a little faster than normal to the Wheeler’s house, because Wayne really did keep him a few minutes too long, but he still ends up relatively on time for Mike’s birthday party. Everyone’s already in the decorated basement (balloons and garlands and all) and Mrs. Wheeler is snapping pictures left and right, much to Mike’s obvious dismay.

Mike’s face does light up when Eddie comes stumbling down the basement, present in hand.

“Happy Birthday, mini Wheeler.” Eddie says, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, not fair! We were friends way before you befriended my sister.” Mike sighs.

“Eddie’s just got good taste.” Nancy smirks before turning back to her conversation with Max and El.

“She said it, not me.” Eddie laughs. “Now open your present.”

He’d bought Mike this older copy of a D&D manual. It’s a first edition that Eddie randomly found one day in a thrift store and considering the grin on Mike’s face, Eddie knows he made the right decision. 

Behind them on the table there’s a bunch of already-opened presents but one sticks out to Eddie - a beautifully depiction of the Party members, including El and Max, painted onto a notebook.

“Nice notebook.”

“Isn’t it the coolest? Will made it for me.” Mike gushes. “He always knows what kind of present to get me. He’s such a good friend.”

Eddie bites back a laugh. Poor Mike, so tragically oblivious to what’s staring right in front of him, bowl-cut and heart-eyes and all. But since he can’t actually laugh Mike in the face, he just smirks and pats Mike on the shoulder.

“Oh Michael… Bless your tiny lil’ heart.” 

Mike just beams at him, once again blissfully unaware of the little back-handed compliment that just escaped Eddie’s Tennessee mouth and runs off again to join the party. Not noticing a thing.

But apparently someone does.

“What was that?” Steve asks from where he’s standing behind Eddie.

“What was what?” Eddie replies automatically. He doesn’t turn around just yet, slightly terrified to find out Steve’s reaction. Not there’s any malice to be heard in his voice, but Eddie’s learned to be careful even when everything seems to be safe.

“That… the whole bless your heart thing.”

“That’s a just saying.” Eddie shrugs.

“But the accent… where did that come from?” Steve stammers.

That comment finally makes Eddie turn around only to find Steve staring at him, jaw slacked and cheeks tickled pink. And well, isn’t that interesting. 

Eddie grins as he takes a step closer to Steve, head cocked to the side. “Didn’t you know? I ain’t from around here.” He’s really laying the accent on thick this time, just to see how Steve will react. 

It pays off beautifully because Steve just stares at him again, his face turning an even deeper shade of pink that contrast with the tight yellow t-shirt he’s wearing. Eddie’s stomach bubbles with giddiness at the sudden power he’s holding over Steve, making him all flustered like this.

God, he really shouldn’t be flirting with his very-much-straight crush but it just feels so good.

“Where- where are you from then?” Steve clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Tennessee, baby. Born ’n raised.” 

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, does it a couple of times actually, like he’s a goddamn guppy. It’s, frankly, adorable and Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. He lowers his gaze, his hands moving through the air like he’s unsure what to do with that.

“I’m just… I’m just gonna talk to Robin for a sec. Be right back, okay?”

Eddie watches as Steve disappears in between the kids, sees how he frantically talks to Robin before dragging her upstairs, clearly in need some alone time.

Huh. Weird. 

-xxx-

Eddie comes clean about his roots to the rest of his friends a couple days later and to his surprise, no one really seems to bat an eye. Sure, there are few laughs here and there but it’s never bad. A couple of questions (mostly from El) about where he grew up and that’s that.

Or so he thinks.

Because he also told Steve, Robin and Nancy about the fact that there’s a country bar just a couple miles from Hawkins and that he’s being going there almost every week just to feel a little at home again. And now, they obviously want to come with. 

Eddie’s feeling slightly nervous about it - this is still on a whole other level than just wearing one of Wayne’s flannels and bringing out his drawl every once in a while. This is about who he is, how he was raised, and he’s not really sure how things’ll go down if his friends react weirdly about it.

Pat is surprised to say the least when Eddie strolls into the Off-Road next Wednesday with Robin, Nancy and Steve in tow. Robin swore up and down that they should dress the part even though Eddie told her it wasn’t necessary, but there they are anyway, plaid shirts and all. 

It’s slightly embarrassing to be honest, but Robin seems to enjoy making him suffer (well, that was until Nancy took off her plaid shirt and tied it around her waist to show off her tight black dress underneath and Robin almost had an aneurysm. Ha, how’s that for payback?). And besides, Steve’s looking unfairly hot in that light blue flannel so who’s Eddie to complain?

“Well, well, well. Looks like you got some friends after all, Ed.” Pat grins. “Welcome y’all.”

After Eddie introduces everyone, Robin starts talking Pat’s ear off, overjoyed with the fact that she’s finally meeting another queer woman, asking her all kinds of questions about growing up queer and how she met Tish. Eddie smiles, feeling happy for his friend. 

On the other side of the bar, Steve and Nancy are hunched over the jukebox, arguing about the next song to play.

“Is that him?” Tish asks as she puts down his beer - Eddie figures he might as well take advantage of the fact that Nancy’s driving tonight. She nods to where Steve is clearly losing the argument with Nancy. The way he’s bending over the jukebox in those tight Levi’s is making his ass look insane and Eddie lets out a strangled sound.

“Yeah, that’s him alright.”

Tish lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. You’re screwed.”

“Why, geez. Thanks for that boost of confidence, Tish.”

Tish just winks at him and disappears back into the kitchen. Eddie just sits and sulks for a bit, head rocking along to the song that Nancy picked out until Robin suddenly slides into view, eyes filled with mischief that Eddie doesn’t care for one bit.

“So… A little birdie told me you’ve been singing Dolly Parton songs here on the regular.” Robin says in a sing-song voice.

Damn Pat and her blabber mouth.

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “And what about it, Buckley?”

“Nothing! Just wondering if you might wanna play a song for us tonight?” Robin asks. She clasps her hands together and pouts when Eddie rolls his eyes at her. “Please? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

“Well… I can’t really say. Not yet anyway.” Robin smiles awkwardly. “But I promise you’ll be happy about it once it works out. Please?”

Eddie sighs - he’s never really been able to resist someone begging and he’s not gonna start now. He finishes his beer in one swig and makes his way over to the stage, taking the now-familiar acoustic guitar from the wall.

His friends sit down at a table close to the stage, staring at him with eager excitement as Eddie tries to think of a song to play. He feels strangely nervous. They had seen him play before, been to a few of Corroded Coffin gigs and he even sang the Beatles’ Blackbird for Nancy’s birthday but this still feels scarier, more intimate. 

And the thing is, he can’t really go with one of the songs he played her before because one wrong look in Steve’s direction and he’d be fucked for life. Or even worse, a love song - that’d make for a real awkward evening. So, he finally settles on a song that’s neither of those, but still a song that’s very close to his heart.

“Back through the years, I go wonderin’ once again. Back to the seasons of my youth…” Eddie sings softly, though his drawl rolls out of him with full force. 

He can’t help it, it’s the only way he knows how to sing this song because it’s the way his momma sang it to him every night before going to bed. Tucking him in tightly underneath the duvet, covering his face with kisses until he couldn’t stop giggling. Her voice soft and warm as she sang him to sleep.

“There were rags of many colors, every piece was small. And I didn’t have a coat and it was way down in the fall. Mama sewed the rags together, sewin’ every piece with love. She made my coat of many colors, that I was so proud of.”

He thinks of Wayne. Thinks of the clothes Wayne gave him while growing up. How he wore them to school with pride, excited to have clothes to call his own. To have a home and someone taking care of him, not because Wayne had to but because he wanted to. 

“So with patches on my britches and in holes in both my shoes, in my coat of many colors, I hurried off to school. Just to find the others laughing and are making of fun of me, in my coat of many colors my mama made for me.”

Thinks of his classmates laughing at his accent, at the way he dressed, at his amazement of seeing snow for the very first time. Remembers going home to Wayne with tears in his eyes, stuffing his plaid shirts into the deepest corner of his closet and trading it for plain black tees instead. Remembers staying up late when Wayne was at work to practice his speech pattern by watching old tv-shows and repeating the lines. 

Looks up at his friends. Realizes how he’s showcasing all those parts he hid away for years and is for once, rewarded for it. They’re listening intently, proud smiles on their faces. Nancy and Robin are leaning against each other, their fingers finding their way to one another.

Glances over at Steve, whose hands are folded underneath his chin as he looks at Eddie with a gentle smile, his eyes soft and almost like honey underneath the warm ceiling lights of the bar. He barely blinks, eyes glued to Eddie and Eddie only. It’s a bit distracting, if Eddie’s being honest. He feels his cheeks heat up and he almost misses a chord at one point, realizing then and there why he didn’t pick a love song in the first place. 

He needs to sing, not melt into a puddle of goo underneath Steve’s gaze, goddammit.

“Now I know we had no money, but I was rich as I could be. In my coat of many colors, my mama made for me. Made just for me…”

The song softly fades away and Eddie mumbles a quick thanks into the microphone as his friends and the rest of the the bar burst out into applause. He shuffles over to the table  where he’s met with Robin and Nancy beaming at him and pulling him into a tight hug.

“That was so good.” Nancy gushes.

“Yeah, it was amazing! You should switch music genres, if I’m honest.” Robin nods. “Change Corroded Coffin’s name into Corroded Cowboy or something.”

Eddie chuckles. “Not sure if the guys are gonna like that. But thanks, girls. Means a lot.”

Steve stays strangely quiet in between Robin and Nancy’s stream of compliments, just fiddling with the coaster in between his fingers. It’s not until Nancy drags Robin to the dance floor when an upbeat song starts playing and Eddie slides into one of the empty seats they left behind, that Steve speaks up.

“You have a really nice voice, you know that?” 

He says it so softly that Eddie can barely hear him over the bluegrass music on the speakers. Still, it’s enough for Eddie’s cheeks to flush pink.

“Thanks.” Eddie replies, ducking his head to prevent Steve from seeing his flushed face. 

“Seriously, man.” Steve says. “Think about Robin said. I mean, I love hearing you sing and scream about the world’s injustices with Corroded Coffin as much as the next person but…”

Eddie’s heart starts beating out of his chest because holy fuck, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing.

“But these songs seem to come so natural to you, y’know?” Steve glances up to meet Eddie’s eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “You make it seem so…”

“Easy?” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles and there’s something in his eyes that Eddie can’t quite decipher. A secret that only Steve seems to know. “Yeah, exactly. Easy.”

Eddie feels the flush on his face deepen underneath Steve’s gaze and he needs a way out before he starts doing something incredibly stupid like drag him to the bathroom just to see what happens when he calls Steve darlin’. 

“You want a refill?” Eddie says quickly, gesturing towards the empty beer bottle on the table. “My treat.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Eddie.”

The sound of his own name rolling off Steve’s tongue almost makes Eddie  stumbles as he stands up  makes his way towards the bar. Smooth, Munson, real fuckin’ smooth.

“Two beers please.” Eddie tells Pat, drumming his ring-adorned hands on the faded wood of the bar.

“Here ya go.” Pat says, handing him the drinks. Eddie’s about to turn back, when she stops him. “Ed, I don’t mean to mess with your head or anythin’… But are ya sure that boy’s straight?”

Eddie snorts. “What’d you mean? ‘Course he is.”

“Well, I won’t be so sure about that, kiddo.” Pat says with a knowing smile. “I’ve been seein’ the way he looks at you tonight and well… let’s just say it’s the same way I look at Tish every morning I wake up next to her.”

Eddie looks up to where Steve’s chatting with Jack, one of the older regulars who’s an actually banjo player in his spare time. He just watches them for a minute, a soft smile playing around his lips, the one he always gets when he’s looking at Steve. 

Steve looks up and their eyes meet, a bright smile appearing on his face as he wiggles his hands in the air to wave at Eddie. He seems so happy and he’s never looked more beautiful. 

Christ, Eddie’s so in love with him.

“That. That look right there. No one looks at their platonic friend like that. Not when there are other feelings involved.” Pat says firmly. “You might wanna start re-thinkin’ this whole situation, Ed.” She adds cryptically and returns to where she’s drying off another glass.

A tingly feeling spreads all over Eddie’s body, a shiver running up his spine. It should feel nice, it does feel nice, but at the same time Eddie knows it’s actually the worst feeling in the world.

Hope. 

tag list: 

@solosnail @gothbat99 @unclewaynemunson @legitcookie @henderdads @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinisthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @magpiemuseum @mightbeasleep @maya-custodios-dionach @theokatz @this-earlobe-is-naked

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Personal Time [2]

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Personal Time Series Masterlist (You don't have to read it to read this)

Summary: Steven orders a strap-on.

A/N: @lonelyisamyw-0love this is especially for you 💚

This is unbetaed (like all of my fics) I have read it over a few times, but my head just isn't in the game at the moment and I feel like I'm just not chatching errors. I appologise that there are probably more here than normal. Also Downward dog is a yoga position.

Warnings: oral (both m and f receiving), fingering, pegging, anal sex, sucking on a strap, praise kink (I’m sorry), the term ‘good boy’ used, begging, ermmmm kind of an exhibition kink?, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning.

Word Count: 4967

________________________________

Steven had spent the better part of 24 hours researching. Not all at once mind you. 

He hadn’t meant to fixate on this, it had just sort of… happened. 

One thing had led to another and another, and another. But he’d finally found a strap-on that he thought would tick all the boxes for both of you. 

He had ordered it online, after checking fifteen times that the delivery would be with discreet packaging. There was no need to give Mrs Thompson on the second floor anything to get all gossipy about. Especially when she managed to churn up enough ‘scandal’ about the block’s private lives anyway. (Quite early on in your and Steven’s relationship Mrs Thompson had engaged you in conversation in the lift. And when she had noticed what floor you were headed to, had promptly filled you in on all the ‘juicy titbits’ about the ‘odd gentleman’ that lived in flat 502 and his two ‘unusual brothers’. You had struggled to keep a straight face and had blurted the whole story out to Steven the second you saw him.)

The discreet (ordinary) packaging was the main reason why Steven had just dumped the parcel on the coffee table with a couple others when he got home from work. He’d had a shower and gone as far as slicing open the brown parcel tape when you’d knocked at the door. 

“Hi Steven.” You smiled as he held the door. “How was work?”

“Hi love,” he grinned and kissed your cheek before standing back to allow you to come in. “Good, good, shit actually, but good.” 

You snorted as you took off your shoes and hung up your jacket. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

“Aw, thank you, just water.” 

He grinned again and waited until your hands were unencumbered before he gave you a proper hug and a kiss. “Hello.” 

“Hello.” You echoed as he held you tightly. 

“Jake has been driving me fucking insane.” 

You laughed as he broke the hug. “Why?” 

“Why?” He pulled a face, mock exasperation that you knew was a put on just to amuse you. “His current obsession with Mrs Thomspon.” 

You giggled and Steven gestured for you to take a seat on the sofa as he went into the kitchen to get you a glass of water, and himself a cup of tea. 

“What’s the latest update in the saga?” You said as you sat down, noticing the three large parcels on the coffee table, one partially open. 

“He baked her cookies.” 

“Cookies?” 

Steven leaned back so that he could stare at you dramatically. “Cookies.” 

You laughed again. “How did she react?” 

Steven rolled his eyes and went back to making the drinks. “She loves him! You know that already from her most recent lift update to you about, ‘that strange Mr Grant, his odd brother, and that lovely Jake.’”

You couldn’t stop your giggles at his impression of Mrs Thompson. 

“I know Jake said he was going to kill her with kindness, but really.” He tutted. “He’s just doing it to annoy me. And to get all the gossip about everyone in the building.” 

You smiled. While you were sure that Jake did enjoy hearing about the little mini-dramas that were going on in the block of flats, you knew that he had originally spoken to Mrs Thompson after the first lift incident as a precaution. A safety check. Just to see what the woman had been saying about them to other people. 

He had ended up in the 77 year old's flat being fed tea and biscuits and had fixed her bathroom window, which hadn’t been closing right.

The kettle clicked off as it boiled.

“So what’s with all the boxes?” You called. 

“Oh!” Steven answered excitedly, “I think they are the books I was telling you about!”

You chuckle. “Did you buy a library?” 

“Pretty much!” 

Your smile widens. 

“I just had to get the full colour edition of the history of Iraq, because the photos looked amazing! Have a look!” 

You paused for a second, a little ball of impoliteness prodded at your mind even though Steven had just given you express permission to look in the box. But you shook the feeling aside and opened it. It was silly to be worried, it was just…

Ah. 

Steven came back into the room and paused at the look on your face. “Love?” 

You looked up at him quickly, trying to hide the smile that wanted to take over your entire being.

“You okay?” 

“It’s not your book in that parcel.” 

He frowned. “It’s not,” then he sighed. “Have they sent the wrong bloody thing?” 

You took the strap-on out of the packaging, all neatly sealed in its own very posh looking box, and held it up to him. 

“Oh, yeah.” Steven blushed but he was grinning. “That’s not a book.”

“I didn’t realise you could also order these from Waterstones.” 

He snorted. “No, that was definitely from a different place.” He gave you a sheepish smile as he put the drinks on the table and brushed his curls out of his eyes. 

“I didn’t realise you’d ordered one.” 

“Well,” he shrugged and sat down next to you, fiddling with his fingers ever so slightly. “I just, I wanted to make sure it was alright first.”

“You were gonna use it without me?” You teased.

“No,” his eyes shot up straight to yours, relaxing only when he saw your playful expression. “I just wanted to make sure it looked comfy for you.”

“For me?” The sentiment touches deep within your heart. “Steven, surely, I mean, it’s going in you. Your comfort is much more important.” 

He pulled a face like you’d just told him that the sky was orange. “Don’t be silly, love.” He shifts a little closer to you, his knee resting against your leg. “So,” he points to the box in your hands. “I did some research to find one that was good for beginners and each party.”

“You did some research?” You tease gently and he nods.

You can’t help yourself as you rub your legs together. Unable to stop the thought of Steven hunched over his laptop on his desk, his glasses on the tip of his nose as he read in depth reviews. Had he worked himself up? Gotten all hot and bothered thinking about you fucking him again? Had he desperately relieved himself at his desk? 

“Do you want to try it out today?” You ask tentatively. 

“Now?” He asks eagerly.

“Now’s good.”

.

He had happily let you lead him to bed, your lips fastened to his as if he was your only source of oxygen. His tea long forgotten and growing cold. 

You had drunk down his little moans, softly pushing him back onto the mattress and stripping him of his clothes. You bit his lip gently every time he tried to take off your own and he giggled. 

When he was naked, at last, you took a moment just to admire him. The flushed golden hue of his skin, his beautiful dark eyes, the way his mouth parted with every breath. 

Languidly you trailed your hands up his legs, placing gentle kisses on his inner thighs and smiling against his skin when he jumped and squirmed. His cock was already hard, twitching against his stomach and leaking. Desperate and waiting for you. For the smallest touch or caress, for anything you’d grace him with. 

It was dizzying sometimes, the thought alone making your head spin, how much faith and trust Steven gave you, putting every single part of himself in your hands as if it was as natural as breathing. 

You kissed his balls, nuzzling into them before licking them all over. 

Steven swore, his back arching ever so slightly as he pushed himself closer and spread his legs wider. 

You happily obliged him by licking a board, flat stripe up from the base to the very tip of his cock. Moaning slightly when the beaded precum at his head touched your tongue. 

He groaned, trying to bury the sound behind his hand, “Love… please.” 

You took your mouth away from him and he whimpered, a look of betrayal flashing across his features. 

His pout made you smile. 

You kissed the base of his length, running the tip of your nose against the thick vein that ran up the underside of his cock. Your smile widened when he shivered. 

“Can you grab the lube out of the drawer?” You asked quietly and broke into a laugh at how quickly Steven moved. As if he had been struck by lightning.

He partially rolled over, carefully not to whack you with his thighs, and fished around for a second before pulling out the bottle and placing it into your waiting hand. 

“Thank you.” You said in a singsong voice. 

Since finding his dildo and your recent escapades with it, you had made it your personal mission to learn how to work Steven open yourself. Savouring every moan and clench of muscle. He’d seemingly become quite addicted to it. 

You poured a generous helping of lube onto both of your hands. Then positioned your left hand around his cock, pumping him in lazy strokes, while you slide the fore and middle fingers of your right down his balls and pressed them lightly at his hole. 

Steven’s breathing hitched, his hips bucking ever so slightly into your touch as he fought with himself to stay still. 

You gently eased both of your fingers into him. Yours weren’t as thick as Steven’s own, and you knew from previous experience that he enjoyed that slow, tortuous stretch at the start. Happy to take two or three in the first breach, as long as they were well lubed. 

He moaned, shuddered, and swore, fisting his hands into the sheets beside him and pressing his head back, exposing the tendons in his neck. 

“Nice?” You asked as you moved your fingers, stroking them perfectly against his prostate. 

Steven gasped loudly, nodding, his eyes screwed up tight at the sensation. “Yeah, yeah, yes, good, nice, really good!” He rushed all his words together, the syllables becoming a blur. 

“Good.” You muttered. Heat swam in your lower belly, pooled at your core just from watching him. His pretty little sounds hypnotic. 

You scissored your fingers lightly, just enough to stretch his tight ring of muscle before going back to your tortuously slow, deep strokes.  

His thighs shook slightly, his muscles twitching as he fought with them to keep them still. 

You lean up, moving slightly so that you can swirl your tongue over the tip of his cock. 

Steven whines and you sink down, taking him deeper into your throat, and the action breaks him. 

“Fuck!” He hisses between his teeth, grabbing hold of your shoulder and bucking up into your warm, wet mouth and then grinding down onto your fingers. He can’t stop himself now, the last of his resolve breaking so easily under your touch. 

You let him writhe under you for a minute, let him buck and moan and sob as nonsense falls from his mouth. 

Incoherent pleas of, ‘love’ and ‘good’, and ‘more’. 

You keep one arm pressed against his hips, stopping him from thrashing too much. Slowly you start to avoid his prostate, just skim along the edges of it, until he whines. Almost delirious under your touch. “Looove!” 

You chuckle, pulling off his cock and chuckle before going back to stroking and stretching him wide. 

“Shit, ah, thank you, I-” He swallows, gasping for air and then quickly his hands are on your shoulders, pushing you back. “Wait, love, wait, too much, sorry.”

You removed your fingers instantly, sitting up as panic chills your veins. “You okay?” 

“Good,” he breathes in deeply, “really good. Too good.” He gives you a lopsided smile. “Didn’t want to cum.” 

You smile back as his words soothe you. “I thought I’d hurt you.” 

His eyebrows pinch together in concern. “Oh love, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” You give him a kiss and he chases after your mouth as you pull away. 

You giggle. “I’ll be right back.” You quickly move away to the bathroom to wash your hands. 

When you come back Steven has moved a little, now sitting more fully on the bed. He grins at you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” 

“Oh?” You mock surprise as you approach him. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” he grabs hold of you playfully and pulls you into an embrace as he kisses all over your face and neck. “Far too many.” 

His hands are so warm, and you giggle as he slips them under your clothes, removing them like he was unwrapping a gift. He kisses your chest, lavishing attention on each breast before pulling you back down on top of him. 

You let out a little squeak of surprise as he gently manhandles you into the position he wants - your thighs on either side of his head. 

“Steven-”

“Hmm?” He asks innocently, pushing down on your hips so that your knees slide wider and your pussy inches closer to his waiting mouth. 

“This is meant to be about you.” Your voice comes out weak and breathless. 

“Oh, it is.” He whispers, leaning up and running a board, flat lick across your centre, and moaning loudly. The vibrations run up and along your clit. 

You bite your lips together, trying to gain some kind of control over yourself as your toes curl and eyes roll back at the slow swipes of his tongue. 

“Good job this is what I want then, isn’t it?” Steven mutters, his eyes dark and hungry before diving back to your folds and pressing you down to his waiting mouth.

“Steven,” you bite your lips together to hold back a moan, your right hand flying to the headboard, your left hand to his soft curls. 

He wraps his arm around your waist, pushing down on your hips and rocking you back and forth against him, urging you to buck and grind on his tongue. 

You can't help yourself, your muscles moving on instinct as you obey his commands without thinking.

Pleasure sparks low in your belly as he swirls his tongue over your clit, lightly scraping at you with his teeth before he curls his tongue through your folds and slips inside. You gasp, following his hypnotising rhythm as the familiar heat begins to build. 

There’s a dull scratch of his stubble against your thighs as you ride him.

The bridge of his nose presses against your clit as he fucks his tongue deeper into you, groaning at every pull of his hair and every sound that falls from your lips. 

His fingers dig in and bruise your skin, trying to bring you closer, urge you nearer despite the fact that you are as physically close as possible. It’s never enough for Steven, always hungry and desperate for more. More of your sounds, your taste, your warm, soft skin against his.

If you let him, he’d never stop. Would be content to spend the rest of his days with his head between your thighs. 

Your toes start to curl, muscles clenching as the heady build of your orgasm begins to crest. So close, so close, so close. But you don’t want it yet. 

You push on his forehead with the palm of your hand, moving your hips back and away from him. “Steven,” you breathe as his mouth chases after you, your words sounding indistinct from sighs of pleasure. You push against his head harder. 

“Steven.” You try to inject some firmness into your voice, managing it barely. 

He stops, his grip on your waist and thighs still tight, but he flops his head back against the pillows as he stares up at you. His eyes dark and hooded with lust, your slick covering the bottom half of his face. He’s breathing deep, his eyes dark, and his dick throbbing against his stomach. Hot and needy. 

“You okay love?” He swallows as he asks, his chest heaving and you can feel the strain in his arms, the twitch of muscle as he fights with himself not to pull you back down onto his face. 

You give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Good, really good. Too good.” You repeat his previous words back at him. “Didn’t want to cum.” 

“Love-”

“Wanna cum with you.” 

He groans, biting his lip as his eyes roll back. He swallows and nods rapidly, almost as if he is afraid to speak and voice his deep-down urges. 

You grin as you wiggle free of his grip, placing a quick kiss on his lips as you get off him and stand by the bed. 

Steven sits up to watch you put the strap on, his eyes fixated on every movement. “Is it comfortable?” He breathes when you’ve adjusted it. 

You nod.

He smiles, a little pinch of anxiety loosening. 

You go to reach for the lube, but Steven clears his throat. 

“Erm, love?” He waits until you look at him to continue. “Could I, erm, I mean, you can say no, if you don’t want to, I mean, could I maybe…?”

You stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. But you gently place your hand on his cheek, softly stroking his skin. 

He swallows. “Could I suck it?” 

A little smile pulls at your lips. “You wanna suck it?” 

Steven nods, fiddling with his fingers. 

“Get on your knees then.” You whisper, your voice low. 

He moves fast, quickly scrambling off the bed and to his knees on the floorboards. You chuckle, stepping back slightly to give him some room. But Steven’s hands go to your hips, reaching around to knead and squeeze your ass and pull you closer. 

He licks his lips, staring at the strap, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Slowly he places a kiss to the very tip before ducking down to the very base and licking back up to the head, something you realise he has learnt from how you please him. 

He takes the tip into his mouth, easing down slowly and bobbing back up. A low groan building in his chest. 

“Fuck.” You whisper under your breath, almost too quiet for Steven to hear. Something about him there, on his knees, just does it for you. 

With a little more force than you intend, you take hold of a handful of hair at the back of his head and push him deeper. 

Steven moans louder. His eyes immediately snap open so he can stare up at you, lustful and cock dumb as salvia drips down his chin to mingle with your wetness that is still covering his skin. 

He pushes against the strap ever so slightly, purposefully grinding the base of it against your clit and you gasp. 

His dick twitches at the sound. 

He swallows around the strap, easing further down, the silicon disappearing into his throat. 

You pull him off with a harsh tug on his hair, a string of salvia connecting his mouth to the tip as he gasps for breath. His eyebrows pinched together. 

“I get to fuck you now.” You growl and Steven nods his head swiftly. 

He leans back and grabs the lube off the bed and hands it to you as he stands. 

“How do you want to do it?” You ask as you pour a generous helping all over the length. 

“Well,” a slight blush graces his cheeks, touches the tips of his ears. “I was reading,” another flash of Steven furiously jerking off at his desk in front of the laptop as he was ‘researching’ plays behind your eyes, “and there’s, erm, this position that’s meant to be really good.” He shifts his weight back and forth for a second before moving. 

He places both hands on the edge of the bed, spreads his legs on the floor, and leans forward like he’s doing a slightly adapted version of a downward dog. “And, I was thinking-” His sharp intake of breath cuts off his words as you pour more lube against his entrance. 

“You want me to fuck you like this?” 

He nods, his lip back between his teeth. “Uh huh.” 

You lean forward a little and his shoulder blade. “I think we can do that.” 

He groans at your words, the sounds growing in pitch as you press the tip of the strap against his hole. 

“You okay? You need me to warm you up some more?” 

“No, please, I’m good, keep going, keep,” he pushes back against you, trying to work the dildo into himself on his own. 

You chuckle a little at his eagerness, sliding your hand down to his right hip to steady him as you painstakingly slowly thrust forward. It sinks into him. Steven lets out a satisfied moan as the bulbous head inches past his tight ring of muscle. His hands fist at the bedsheet. 

You can take your eyes off how it just disappears into him. The way he stretches around it, completely split open. You swear quietly under your breath and pull his cheeks apart ever so slightly so you can experience the full view as he greedily swallows the strap. 

“Fuck, Steven, you look so good like this.” 

He moans in response, his eyes screwing up in bliss, feeling so full. The thickness of the strap in him, your hands on him, the heat of your skin as the front of your thighs kiss against the backs of his. It’s almost too much. 

His cock throbs painfully hard, heavy, and pleading for relief. So persistent it’s almost maddening. 

Finally, you bottom out, your hips flush against him. You ease out again slowly, savouring the torturous pace as you pull back until the tip is barely inside before sinking in. 

“You look so good like this Steven,” you praise and delight in his little whimper. “So good taking all of this for me.” 

He nods rapidly, eyes screwed shut. He shifts a little as you slide back into him, dropping to his elbows against the bed. 

“Next time, shit,” you start to move a little faster. The press of the strap against your clit burning deliciously. “Next time, I’m gonna take photos of you split open like this.”

He moans wantonly. 

“Gonna take a video of how well you take me. Of what a good boy you are.” You slide deeper, brushing against his prostate and Steven keens, his back arching. “Gonna watch it every day, gonna touch myself and cum looking at you,” warmth spread along your veins, tightening in your core. 

“Oh fuck, please, please, please,” he grinds back into your every thrust, needing you deeper, harder, craving anything you would give. Words pile up in his mind, so many that it’s practically impossible for them all to fall out of his mouth. He wants you, needs you, everywhere. Everything you could possibly do to him. He’ll suffocate without it. 

Pleasure sparks up from the base of his spine, tightening his muscles and he’s so, so close to just falling into it. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he slurs, “take videos of me,” he whines, too cockdumb to have any verbal filter. “Split me open, fuck, post them online, I want everyone to seee- Ah!” He sobs as you thrust particularly deep, and you focus all your energy on hitting the same spot over and over. 

“You want everyone to see Steven?” You lean forward, hissing in his ear. “You want everyone to see how well you can take it?” Want them all to cum looking at you.” 

“Ohshit!” He can’t help it, the thought of it, it’s too much. He tenses, moaning loudly. Every muscle clenches as he cums, spilling thick ropes all over the side of the bed and floorboard. Splashes hitting his stomach. He had intended to warn you when he was close, but now he just can’t stop as he convulses through his orgasm, the pleasure twisting and building impossibly in his stomach. 

You kiss his shoulder blade and start to slow your hips. 

“No, no, no, no,” he reaches around to grab hold of your hips, moving back against you. “Please, please, keep going, I think I can, ah!” He rocks on the balls on his feet as you start thrusting again. “I think I can cum again, please.” 

You groan at how he leans back into you, his breathy, needy, desperate whines, all of it combines to make you lightheaded. 

Steven grabs at your right hand, his eyes half closed, mouth hanging open. For a moment you think he just wants to link fingers but he quickly moves it to his head. 

“Pull, pull my hair, please, pull me back, just- fuck!”

You do as he asks, taking a large fistful of hair and yanking him towards your chest. He moans loudly as you pull, his spine arching, his throat bobbing as it bends under your grip. He barely manages to keep hold of the bed with both hands, his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. 

It’s like there’s a snap in his abdomen releasing bliss and pleasure overwhelms every thought.

He sobs out your name as he cums again. Every nerve shaking. And while not much more than a dribble shoots out of his aching cock, he cums harder than he thought possible. It’s like liquid gold explodes along every cell, coating and purifying every single part of him. 

He doesn’t remember blacking out for a second, but he must have because the next thing he knows is that he’s in your arms. Your muscles hold him steady and stop him from falling back and smacking his head against the corner of the bedside table. 

“Steven?” There’s a tiny pinch of panic in your voice that makes his chest hurt. The idea that you’re worried about him, that he caused your worry is almost too much in that moment. 

“I’m fine love, sorry,” he moves to stand fully, taking his weight off of you. “That was so amazing, I just…” He breathes deeply. 

You keep your arms around him, keep up that steadying hold. “Are you sure you're-” You yelp, the rest of your sentence lost as Steven turns quickly, pulling the strap on out of himself with a wet pop. 

He kisses you deeply, his hands on your cheeks as he slides his tongue into your mouth and groans. 

It’s so sudden that you barely register his movements before he’s turning you around and pressing you back against the bed. (Purposefully avoiding the wet patch he left, with mumbles of how he’d change the bedding later.) 

He unbuckles the strap hastily, his short nails leaving shallow scratches before he throws it to the side. 

“Steve-”

He kneels, dragging your hips to the mattress's edge and spreading your thighs wide. 

Without any pause he quickly slides two thick fingers into your aching heat, groaning low in his chest at your wetness. You gasp as he curls them, finding that perfect spot instantly as he strokes your walls. 

“Steven, you don’t have to-” Your moan cuts off the rest of your words as he leans forward and presses a board, flat lick across your clit. Timing the movement with the caress of his fingers. 

You squirm against his touch, already so worked up, and fight the urge to clamp your legs around his face. 

Steven looked up at you, large puppy dog eyes dark and hungry. 

Heat builds rapidly in your core, the sound of your wetness echoing around the flat. 

He dips his tongue down, slipping in through your folds and into your core just above his fingers. He moans as your muscles tense, never taking his eyes off you. 

His name falls from your lips like a prayer as your rock against him, trying to chase that tantalising pressure. Needing more. 

The movement of his tongue and fingers overtakes and outshines any other possible thought as all you can do is mindlessly buck against his face as you near your high. 

Steven presses deeper, slipping in a third finger and nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit. And fuuccccck.

You cum against him with a wail you’d be embarrassed about if you could formulate thoughts. Every possible thought is overtaken by the sudden wave of pleasure he pulls out of you, drowns you in. Stars dance behind your eyes as your muscles shake. 

Steven laps at you steadily, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible until you are gasping, tears in your eyes from the overstimulation. 

You place a hand on his shoulder and he slowly withdrawals his fingers, groaning at the white, creamy mess you left on his digits. 

He presses a kiss against your knee as you breathe hard. 

“I think the strap was a success.” He says, quite matter of factly, as if you had just managed to find a slightly quicker route to work. 

You giggle as he glances up at you and pulls a silly face. “Definitely.” 

He pauses for one moment, nuzzling against your thigh. “I, erm, maybe we don’t upload videos of me online though.” He blushes a little and you lean down, kissing him deeply. 

“I know that was just sex talk, those are all for me anyway.” 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Didn’t… weird you out or anything?” 

You shake your head. “I loved it.” 

“Good.” He leans into your embrace as you wrap your arms around him. 

“Though, if we did upload videos of you,” you tease, “I’m sure we’d make so much money, you could buy all the books you wan-”

You yelp and giggle as Steven tackles you back onto the bed and kisses you roughly. 

____________________________________

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