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yuri-is-online · 27 days ago

Note

Can I request a part 2 for when the guys leave some of their stuff in the guest room? Can it be with Azul, Jamil, and jade please? Thank you!

While cleaning the Ramshackle guest room, the prefect occasionally finds items that remind them of their guests. Sometimes that is because those items actually belong to them and need to be returned, other times it's just a happy coincidence. Either way, the item needs to be delivered, might as well invite them over again? Or just chase them down, whatever is most convenient.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, I was a bit surprised to get this request! In a nice way~ No warnings for this one, just pure fluff. The first one can be found here and more fic can be found on the Masterlist.

Antique Coin

Azul Ashengrotto is a well put together young man. His suits are pressed, his shoes are neatly polished, his rooms are always orderly and without dust.

Which is why he notes immediately when something is even mildly out of place, and completely falls apart once he's in the privacy of his own room. He knew he never should have paid attention to that stupid article Floyd had shared in their group chat, coins being symbols of good luck wouldn't make him relatable to anybody and now he's missing one of his best coins! How stupid could he have been to think that-

"Hello, this is Azul speaking." He snatches up his phone without even checking the caller ID and immediately begins sweating when he hears your familiar breathing (he swears he's not a creep, really! He's just noticed that whenever you speak on the phone, not that you do that often really just when he can work up the nerve and hey this is technically the first time you've called him! Progress he's making progre-)

"Hey there, you got a moment?" Azul can feel the heavy sweat drop on his forehead. He's done enough research to know conversation starters like this are never good.

"I'm a bit busy right now." He tries to lean casually against his desk and glares at the book that has the audacity to fall off his desk and startle you. "Is this terribly important or can it wait?"

You, laugh? Is it nervous, or is it affectionate? Does even know what that sort of laughter would sound, is it bad that he finds your voice terribly beautiful even if it's mocking, even if it's- "Um sorry, but are you missing a coin?"

"A... coin?"

"Yes! I remember you saying you collect them and this one I found in my guest room smelled a bit like the ocean so. Yeah. I thought it might be yours." He smiles.

"My dear, you know I'm just going to say 'yes' and take it from you." You laugh again, how silly that last one was nerves. This one is affection, his hearts are fit to burst with it so it must be. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. If that’s acceptable?"

"Of course! I'll be here." Perhaps that article wasn't completely wrong after all.

Red Feather Accessory

There are few things Jamil hates more than being sick. Assassins don't have sick days, or maybe they do. Maybe they have better benefits than he does. Maybe he'd make a really good assassin in some alternate universie like that one video game series from your world you told him about once, the one with the emblems and gangrene? He doesn't remember much of the conversation Kalim tricked him into having by saying he wanted to hang out in your guest room yesterday.

"But you were so happy to see them!"

Because of course, that had been Kalim's justification. And sure, he probably had been really happy to see you. He'd been running quite the fever and he can't imagine you made that temperature any better.

"Good morning, prefect." He manages it smoothly, you look properly embarrassed to see him this early, your eyes flicker to his hair and linger just a moment longer than normal. "Sleep well?"

"Mostly." You try to focus on his face, but his hair is clearly distracting. Your eyes keep darting back to it, Jamil expected to be embarrassed, but this is oddly empowering. "Is there a reason you're here so early?"

"I think you know why I'm here." You don't, he can tell that much from how you swallow. "Can I come in?"

"Sure?" You move just the bit and Jamil let's himself inside, the doors in Ramshackle always look so damn similar. Just how do you find your way around in here? "Um, Jamil?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why you're here?" You look lovely

"Of course." He laughs. "I left a hair accessory here yesterday when Kalim decided to visit." How odd, normally you'd flinch if he worded it like that. Instead you just look sort of blurry.

"I see." You're close now, but he can't see you through this weird fog that's filling your hallways. You push back his headband and press the back of your plam to his forehead. "Oof. Well that's not good." Your arm encircles his shoulders and boosts him back up to his feet. He supposes he can afford to lean towards you, there's enough plausible deniabilty in what he's said already to keep his feelings to himself.

"C'mon." You do your best to boost him and march back towards the door. Jamil is smiling similar to how he does when he gets one over on Azul, but you doubt he's planned this. He's so feverish that his skin has gotten clammy. "I already took your hair pin back to Scarabia, ok? Let's get you back to bed."

"That's so kind of you." His hoarse voice tries to purr. "Perhaps you'd like to stay for breakfast?" Thank the seven Grim isn't awake yet. You'd never hear the end of this from either of them.

Encyclopedia of Tea

Books are expensive, you can count on one hand the ones you own unrelated to your school work scattered around your dorm. They are precious to you, signs of your life in a world you don't belong in. A way to tell something about you if someone decided to look at the little shelf you had finally put up in your guest room.

And someone had, because you know damn well this book isn't yours, the process of returning it is guaranteed to be a headache but the longer you hesitate the more ammunition the book's rightful owner will have to accuse you of stealing it. Assuming that's what Jade's goal was anyway, it seemed like something he would find funny to do. You could picture him slipping the book onto your shelf with that calm look on his face.

Jade's face isn't what you would call wildly expressive. He smiles pleasantly most of the time, seldom do you see him frown. Even now when his forehead is knit in concern there's nothing really resembling the scowl you saw during Azul’s overblot.

"Hello Jade, forgotten something?" You hold the book up and shake it slightly. His eyes widen, and his smile drops into something more nuteral. This expression is adorable, it stays as Jade speaks, allowing you to admire it longer

"Oh?" He blinks, Jade wakes easily enough so your own expression flickers to concern at how slow he seems for just long enough to give him back his confidence. "It seems the simplest solution was correct. Thank you, prefect." He reaches for the book, hands lingering near yours as his eyes focus on the title of the book. He is painfully slow in taking it back.

"Do you really take this everywhere with you?" Your hand involuntarily flexes as you retreat back into your personal space. Sometimes you wish you could read minds, it would make this heavy feeling in your heart more explainable. Let you notice the way Jade's teeth display for you and not hide inside your own insecurities, how he wishes you would keep your eyes on him.

"Of course, it helps to have some light reading on hand when things get slow." He wishes you had kept the book long enough for it to retain your scent or some of your warmth. Perhaps now that he's set this precedent, he can fake it. Leave his jacket or his scarf? But no, that wouldn't be believable. He's Jade Leech, the Vice Warden of Octavinelle. You would never believe the real reason the book ended up where it did. His dreams are his to dwell in alone.

"Perhaps as thanks I could prepare one of my favorites for you? To clear the debt so to speak." For now.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #jade leech x reader #i know we had a conversation a bit ago about jade doing research by watching classic rom coms but as i have been blowing upon my bubble pipe #you know whomst would actually do that?#azul. azul would do that. he has every line in titanic memorized so he can sell more shit to people but that's just cope on his part

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toxicanonymity · 11 months ago

Text

Let me stay awake.

7.2k, vampy!Joel x f!reader | vampire masterlist | playlist SUMMARY: Joel tries to take better care of you and plans a date night in. Next time he takes your blood, it feels amazing. WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (440s to 20s-50s), reader is in captivity, angst, hurt/comfort, dark fluff, POV alternates (twice?), a lot of character dev in the first half, a former blood donor joins the cast, chains, shackles, ankle collar, dry humping, groping, perfectly timed ejaculation. Captivity dubcon. SERIES IMMERSABILITY: Reader can menstruate, be lifted by vampire Joel, and has no allergies.

After Joel took your period, you told him he was doing a bad job taking care of you, which was true. But he did a good job at something. You slept like a baby. He was back with when you woke up. Now he’s sitting next to you on the mattress, back against the wall. Against his thighs, he’s holding a pen on top of a book that looks ancient. He adjusts his glasses and opens the book. The pages are blank, discolored, and thick. Some have been ripped out. He takes the cap off his pen and asks, “What’d ya have at your old house that we don't have here?” then rests his hand on the page to write. His hand dwarfs the page, and you feel a surge of desire recalling his sounds of pleasure. No, you don’t want him, you tell yourself, as if you didn’t fantasize about him on your way to sleep.

“Freedom,” you answer, and he winces.

He closes the journal with the pen keeping it partly open, then he turns toward you. “If ya just gimme a chance, sweetheart. . . I'm really gonna do my best. . .”

When you stay quiet, he says, “Ya know. I think one day, we’ll get there.”

“Get where?”

“Outside, out in the world together.”

“Really?”

He nods. “That walk we took was nice, right?”

“What walk?”

“Through the alley, that first night, when I walked ya to your car?” Right. . .what a gentleman.

“Yeah, I guess.” Now your mind is drifting back to the way he gently pushed you against the brick wall to kiss you on that walk. Did he already know what he was going to do to you when he first pressed himself against you?

His eyes are earnest. “It can be like that again,” he nods. “Just need a little time.”

You nod.

He clears his throat, opens the journal, and picks up his pen. “So what do you need?”

Your stomach twists. Answering would feel like resigning yourself to some dark fate. “I'm not gonna help you keep me prisoner,” you mumble.

“Prisoner?” He dips his head and his brow furrows. “God, no,” he softly reassures you. He reads your face, then stares into the mattress and swallows.

You rephrase, “Well I’m not gonna help you keep me.”

He looks you over with pleading eyes. “I'm gonna go out for a while, okay? Can I get ya anything?”

There are things you need, but you still can’t bring yourself to acknowledge you’re there for the long haul. So you shake your head no. He goes to get the chain from the floor.

“Hate doin’ this,” he mumbles. “‘s’just for now.” He drags the chain over and lifts the sheet to expose your feet. He sees the scrapes and irritation on your ankle. “Shit,” he shakes his head at himself. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he mutters. “Stupid,” he mumbles at himself as he gets up. He goes upstairs and takes the tray from breakfast with him. He returns with the same tray. It’s holding a pair of his own wool socks in a fair isle pattern, a paper bag, and a translucent teal bottle full of water. “Lunch,” he says as he sets the tray down next to you. He puts the socks on you, and they're toasty. Then, he puts the cuff on over the sock. “Little better?”

“A little,” you answer.

“Good,” he whispers.

— JOEL —

He’s gotta do something about that chain. He’s about to lay down on the sofa to think, but when he moves a decorative pillow out of the way, he feels a rush of shame. “Oh my god,” he whispers. He’s so stupid. How did he not think to give you a pillow? He goes straight to a guest bedroom. The tall, oak door creaks as he opens it. The light from the window nearly blinds him. He blocks it with his forearm as he hurries over to close the heavy curtains. He sneezes. He picks up an old pillow off the bed and fluffs it. Dust swarms around. There's no way he's giving you that. This whole room has a sad vibe. But he could make you a different room, maybe. His wheels start turning as he goes back downstairs - he has ideas for what room he could use, and what he could do with it.

He says your name as he descends the final steps. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking,” he apologizes as he crosses the room. He hands you the pillow and assures you he'll get a better one. Then he goes back upstairs.

After a little research, he packs a leather, cross-body bag and checks the weather. “Damnit,” he grumbles to himself. Cool but no cloud cover. If it were another sunny day, he’d stay home, but this is too important. He puts on a scarf and grabs his parasol from the coat closet and tucks it under his arm as he pulls on his gloves. He’d rather endure the strange looks than come home without the energy to take care of you.

Joel’s first stop is an erotic boutique. It's been a long time since he was anywhere like this. The mannequins in mesh bodysuits and strappy leather catch his eye on the way in, and he almost forgets what he came for. He can't help but imagine you wearing some of these things, but he'd rather just see you naked.

He slowly makes his way through the store. Should he get you a toy? It seems like sexual health would be a basic need. No, he decides. It might make you uncomfortable. He doesn't want to assume, and doesn't want to invade your privacy. Plus, he has to be careful. He doesn’t want you to think this is all just to get him off. He knows how it feels to be fetishized.

“Can I help you?” Someone asks. Joel turns around and squints through his transition lenses at the worker’s face, then their name tag. Craig. Where does Joel know him from? Joel stays home a lot, but not as much as one might think. He needs some kind of social contact.

Craig interrupts Joel’s thoughts, “You’re the one with the mansion, right?”

Joel chuckles. “Uhh, I dunno if–”

“Oh, sorry,” Craig holds his hand up. “Ya know what? I must be thinking of someone else.” His lie is an unconvincing attempt to allow Joel his anonymity after the slip-up. He probably thinks Joel is in disguise.

“No, no, it’s okay, man. I was just gonna say. I wouldn’t call it a. . . mansion,” Joel feels stupid as he finishes the sentence.

“Okay,” Craig concedes with a playful eye roll. “The house with the Christmas party”

Oh, God. Joel hadn't even thought about his party. It's gotta be small this year, if it happens. Maybe it would be nice. Joel pictures you in a fancy dress sitting next to him at the table. He imagines having someone to kiss at midnight.

“New year’s, “ Joel corrects him and sticks out his hand. “Joel.”

“Right, right.” Craig shakes Joel’s hand and asks, “Friend of the Fishers, right?”

Joel snaps his finger, “Yes! Right. You're in David's choir.” Another thing Joel forgot. His life has revolved around you ever since you stepped into it. You're all he thinks about. Joel starts to apologize, “Look, I dunno if I'm gonna make the Christmas concert this year, it snuck up on me.”

“It's okay, it's okay,” Craig reassures him with a wave of his hand. “Can I help ya find anything?”

“Yeah, uh, it said online y’all have some cuffs and chains and stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Craig nods. “Come with me.” He guides Joel to a back wall covered in all sorts of contraptions. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Yeah, something really comfortable and secure.”

–

As Craig rings up Joel’s purchase, Joel silently worries if this is going to work.

“Want me to show ya how the lock works?” Craig asks.

“Uhh, sure,” Joel says.

Craig takes the leather cuff out of the package and demonstrates the metal lock. He dangles the two keys. “One for you, and one for them,” he smiles.

“And both cuffs have the same key?”

“Yep,” Craig nods.

The cuff seems comfortable–the inside is suede and there's metal over the leather-–but Joel wonders if it's secure enough. What if you get away and he never sees you again? He looks at the metal loop on the cuff.

“Hey,” Joel asks and scratches his neck. “Y’all don't have any, uh, ID tags or anything do ya?”

“ID tags?”

“Like the little metal ones that hang on a loop.”

“Ohhh, like for a collar.” Craig raises his eyebrows.

“Or for this?” Joel asks, holding up a cuff.

“Cool,” Craig nods as if Joel is an innovator. “Gimme one sec.”

Craig goes out to a nearby shelf and comes back with a few collars that have their own tag – mostly hearts, either blank or with something generic like princess. “This is all we got.”

“Y’all do engraving here?” Joel asks.

“No. . .But if ya only need the tag, and it's gotta be engraved, I can tell ya where to go.”

–

When Joel is done with his next stop, he opens his leather bag and slips the metal tag into a zippered pocket. Damn, he thinks. He doesn't even know your favorite color. He hopes you’re okay with a black heart. Certainly better than a bone shape. He starts his car and heads toward the library.

When Joel walks into the library, he politely nods at the information desk, then heads to the computers. He sits down at one in the back row. He takes his gloves off, pulls his journal and a pen out of his bag, then logs onto the computer. He searches the catalog and the internet. What do you need? Food, water, shelter, this all seems obvious. What do you want? Freedom, he can hear you saying it. How much can he give you? How can he make you stay? How can he make you understand how much he cares? He retrieves a book and opens his journal to make some notes.

Joel puts down his pen, looks over his notes, then takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes. He wishes you’d talk to him. What do you really want?

He whispers your name out loud. “God I wanna make you happy.” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He has a headache. The sun is catching up with him. He shouldn’t have gone out today. He should go home. When he opens his eyes, he puts his glasses back on. Someone is approaching. He swiftly locks the computer screen and closes his notebook.

“Joel.” It’s a kind, grandmotherly voice.

“Carol,” Joel smiles, and leans back as casually as he can.

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Joel nods, trying not to wince. She looks at the empty computer screen and closed notebook.

“Okay, well, you know where to find me, dear.”

“Great sweater, by the way,” Joel tells her. “Perfect color. Really makes your eyes pop.”

“Oh, Joel,” she coyly pats down her white curls. “Thank you, dear--OH, Christy asked if you came in. Do you want me to get her?”

Joel didn’t even think about her on his way in. He feels a twinge of guilt for silencing her call, ignoring her text.

“Joel?” Carol asks, looking concerned.

He snaps out of it and feigns a little smile. “Uh, no. No, thank you. Don't bother her.”

“Okay,” Carol says in a sing-song voice. “I'll leave you to it then.” She smiles and walks away.

–

So she was expecting him. Oh, shit - he thinks through his mental calendar - Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Warmth rises to his cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s felt his cheeks get warm. It must be something in your blood. Not only has Joel taken blood from Christy, but she’s been his wingman before. They'd go out somewhere, and he'd listen to her drone on and on–she never took a breath–about her armchair detective community.

She’s always been a little too into the whole situation. If Joel thanked her for her help, she’d beam, “Any time.” She wasn't with him the night he met you. He wasn't on the hunt. But you smelled special, and he couldn't physically resist.

Joel hears Christy greet someone. He can't dodge her, he just has to hope she walks on by. He picks up his leather bag and puts it in his lap. He rifles through it until he finds a stick of menthol balm.

“There he is,” Christy calls.

Too late. He stuffs the menthol back in his bag without using it. He looks up, and she’s paused in the middle of the library with one hand on her hip and her eyes wide, even wider than usual.

“Hey, Chris.”

She hurries over. “So you are alive,” she teases with her arms crossed, then tilts her head, widens her eyes, and whispers, “figuratively speaking.” She laughs at her own joke.

She knows as much about him as anyone alive. It's made a big difference having a friend who knows. This has been one of Joel’s better eras, but the era he’s moving into with you will be lightyears better. And it’ll be more than an era.

“Kinda late,” she cringes lightheartedly.

“Oh, no, no, none for me. I’m good, thanks. Sorry, I’ve uh – I’ve gotta go.”

He stands up and puts his bag on. She’s gonna know something’s up. He scratches the back of his neck, weighing whether to break down and tell her everything so she can help him know how to make you comfortable and happy. Plus, he just wants to talk about you. He wants to tell the world. But today he has one priority: taking care of you.

“Waait a second,” Christy says knowingly, studying his face. “You’re glowing. You just got some good stuff, didn't ya?” She playfully punches Joel’s arm. “Good for you,” she beams, then raises her eyebrows and lowers her voice. “Bet it was menstrual, O positive.”

“The blood type doesn't–”

“--You say that, but if you’d let me do my experiment. . .Oh! We’ve got some new microfilm downstairs. 1880s, if you can believe it.”

“Not today,” Joel replies a little too quickly if he doesn’t want her prying.

Her lips form a line and her eyebrows go up, then she shrugs it off. “Okay, mister. Hey, can you still take care of Cal next weekend? Nat and I are–”

“--Uh, yeah,” Joel starts to walk off. “If you can drop her off.” You might enjoy the cat’s company.

“Joel!” Christy calls after him. “Don’t forget this!” She’s holding his parasol.

–

Next, Joel stops by the hardware store to get some supplies to secure you more comfortably. He’s sure he’s forgetting something, but this is a good start, and there’s always delivery. He doesn’t want to leave the house again this week. Thankfully, the hardware store is next to a Walmart, which has groceries, clothes, and pillows. He gets you some loungewear, socks, and new bedding. It’s the least he can do.

—--

When Joel gets home, he brings you four different pillows and some bedding.

“Wasn’t sure what firmness.”

He unlocks you and shows you the socks and lounge clothes. “These looked comfortable. Here, I can help. . .”

“I can do it,” you tell him.

“Right.” He turns around. While you’re changing, he says, “Let's order in tonight. Too tired to get anything started.”

“I’m not hungry yet,” you tell him.

Then he shows you the new cuffs and chain. He rings the heart shaped tag onto one cuff, then puts it around your ankle. “Better?”

The chain is much lighter. “Yeah, I guess,” you admit. “What’s this?” You look at the tag.

“Oh I dunno, I just–I started worryin’.”

You stare at him blankly.

“I dunno, just in case.”

“In case what?”

He swallows. “If ya. .” He looks around. He doesn't wanna say it out loud. “If ya left. . . so ya could . . . I dunno, get back.”

Now there’s a hint of pity and bewilderment in your eyes.

“It was stupid, sorry.” He takes a deep breath and manages a small smile. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll be right upstairs.”

When he gets upstairs, he looks at his phone and has a message from Christy. His stomach drops when the picture loads. It’s his search history about taking care of adult human women and what makes them stay.

“God damnit,” he curses himself. Of course he didn’t clear his search history. He didn’t even log off. She's typing. She stops, then starts again, and he presses the heels of his palms into his temples. What now? Should he call her? She wouldn't tell anyone, but – Her message comes through with a woosh: “this is what librarians are for.”

“Ha," he scoffs with the slightest smile. He shakes his head and turns the screen off without answering. He should be relieved, but can’t help but worry. He's seen her at her worst. God, he hopes that was her worst. What does she want?

Another message comes in: “let me help you."

Of course that’s what she wants. Funny enough, he’s seen her at her worst specifically when she was trying to help. But it’s still tempting, because she’s smart and resourceful. She could tell him everything there is to know about you within an hour. He’d love to know what kind of clothes you’d like, your favorite foods, how to make you happy. But for now, he’s doing alright on his own. He doesn’t text back.

-—You—

A while after Joel goes upstairs, you hear drilling, then clanking, metal jingling, things being dropped.

Later, he brings you dinner. He doesn’t eat, but he sits with you. Then, after you’re done, he faces you, cross-legged on the mattress. He’s wearing his glasses and has his journal again. There are handwritten notes in it. From upside down, you can see the words “buy” and “do.” Some items are crossed through.

“I was thinkin’,” he studies the page, then looks up at you. “Ya might need a bed.” He looks at your face for confirmation. “Right?” he asks. Wow, he really wants an answer.

“I mean. . . yeah, I sleep in a bed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay, I’m workin’ on a room for ya.”

For the next few days, he’s hard at work.

—----

He comes downstairs one evening around dinner time and says, “I was thinkin’, maybe we could watch a movie or somethin’.”

“Here?”

“Uh, no sweetheart. I was thinkin’, if ya wanna come upstairs for dinner, then maybe, after that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“Okay.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Great.” He goes to the other end of the chain and takes a key out of his pocket to unlock the cuff from the floor. As he's doing it, he mumbles, “You can, uh, pick the movie. If ya want.” The chain is sliding around on the mattress as he fiddles with the cuff. When the cuff is free from the hook, he puts it around his wrist, then locks it. Your breath hitches. He sees you looking at his wrist.

“Don't wanna get separated,” he chuckles sheepishly, then puts a hand on your wrist. “Want yours here?”

“Yeah.”

He moves the leather cuff from your ankle to your wrist, and it's nice to feel his hands on yours as he fastens it. He smells good. Fresh, woodsy. He opens his palm and takes your hand to help you up. He holds the slack of the chain as the two of you walk upstairs.

—

It's a large room with high ceilings. It's dark, but cozy. A fire is lit. There are plants, lots of plants. And bookshelves in the walls. He takes you through the main room, to a dining room with a huge table already set for two. He offers you the head of the table and pulls out the chair for you. He lets the slack of the chain pool between your chairs, and you're both still wearing a cuff on your wrist.

You eat mostly in silence, which makes the jingling of the dog tag deafening when you move that hand. He asks where you’d like to travel. You’d love to just travel outside, down the driveway, but you humor him with more ambitious places.

The space is lit with gas candelabras, and it’s hard not to admire his handsome face and the way his eyes sparkle in the candlelight. Sometimes a flicker catches the silver in his beard just right.

After dinner, he takes you back to the main room. There's an oversized sofa with a large, soft blanket draped over it and pillows like the one Joel brought downstairs. There's a big, square ottoman. There's also a side table with two clean, empty wine glasses. The sofa faces the fireplace, which is quite wide, and there’s a screen mounted above it. Joel offers you a glass of wine, and you accept but won’t drink much of it. He starts the movie.

Joel puts his arm around you while you watch the film. The chain lightly clinks against itself as he strokes your shoulder, then your arm, and you feel yourself melting. He arranges the pillows and asks if you want to lie down. You do. He spoons you, with his free hand resting over your body. His chained hand is under the pillow, and it finds yours as the movie goes on. Your fingertips brush, and you don’t pull away. Then he fully rests his hand on yours.

The hand draped over your side gradually begins to wander. He slowly, lightly strokes your side. . .then your hip. . . then your stomach, over your clothes. His breath deepens. His light, meandering touch makes you weak with desire and lulls you half asleep.

“Thanks for being here,” he whispers. He kisses the nape of your neck. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” He kisses your hair. “But it'll be worth it.” His light touch continues, and you begin to tingle. “Won’t be stuck here forever. . .we’ll travel the world one day.”

His hand travels higher on your body as he moves it in loose circles, until he’s skimming the bottoms of your breasts. His palm grazes the outline of your hard nipple, and a hard shape twitches against your ass. You don’t flinch, but you inhale sharply through your nose, trying to suppress a wave of desire.

Joel pulls his hips back and tucks the blanket between you, to your secret disappointment. Then he props his head up to admire you. “So many things I wanna do with you,” he murmurs, running his massive hand down your side again where he started. “And for you,” he whispers, draping his hand over your lower belly. Then, barely audible, so quiet you might be imagining it, “and to you.” He puts his head back down on the pillow and inhales your hair, skimming your top with his fingers.

His hand nudges under your lounge top, then his fingertips slip into your waistband ever so slightly, and you’re throbbing. His fingertips skim your bare belly, dipping a little further into your pants.

He asks, “You okay from. . .”

Your heart rate quickens. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I can check,” he quietly offers. “Make sure I got it all.”

“Ok,” you whisper.

“Good,” he slides his hand down your lounge pants. You’re not wearing underwear. You gasp softly as his fingers reach your clit. He pauses there, and an involuntary push of his hips lets you feel him through the blanket before he pulls back again. His fingertips get lower, then hook between your legs, and he softly gasps when he reaches your wetness. He runs his fingers through your folds, then uses his massive hand to hold the waistband open while he peeks at his fingers.

“You did,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shoulda waited, though. I wasn too rough. Shoulda let it happen.” He lets the waistband close over his wrist and cups your mound.

“You weren’t,” you tell him, closing your eyes, embarrassed at the whole situation. Now he knows how wet you are.

His middle finger twitches and nudges your clit, then begins nudging it rhythmically. Soon, it evolves toward a more deliberate, pleasure-focused rub, and he inhales deeply, chest expanding against your back.

“I think I should go to sleep,” you whisper, overwhelmed. His finger stops moving, but his hand stays in your pants.

Joel offers, “Might sleep better if–”

“Not tonight.” You twist your hips away from his, already hating yourself for cutting this off, but knowing you’d judge yourself for continuing.

He slowly withdraws his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Somethin’ came over me.”

On the way downstairs, he tells you again, “I’m workin’ on a room for ya. Just gimme a couple days.”

He chains you back to the floor, then makes up the mattress with a new set of bedding and a comforter. He tucks you in, and leans over you. He wets his lips, looking at yours. You look away. He kisses you on the cheek, soft and slow. Somehow, it feels just as sensual as if it were your mouth.

“Night, sweetheart.”

—-

The next evening, your room is finished. He brings you upstairs and shows you what he’s done. It’s an actual bedroom, with a nice, roomy bed. There’s a reading nook with a big, comfy chair and a wall of books. It’s dim, of course, but he shows you how to use the dials to remotely adjust the flames of the candelabras and chandelier. There’s a window with a curtain. It has steel bars, but at least it’s there. There’s a closet with clothes and some packages not yet opened. There’s even a fireplace.

“And here’s the best part,” he says excitedly, gesticulating in a way that makes the chain between you jingle. He brings you outside the bedroom and closes the double doors. There are two dark panels that create a heart where the doors meet. “Check it out.” He retrieves a key from his pocket, and locks the door from the outside. It’s a heavy, satisfying click. He looks at you like you’re going to be excited. “So you can take this off,” he explains, holding up the chain.

-----

You see Joel more often once you’re out of the basement. He’s happy to have you close, and you’re glad to have the accommodations. But you’re also confused, and a little depressed. You crave his presence and his touch in a way you know is unhealthy. You know it must be because he’s all you have right now, but your heart tells you there’s more to it. The whole situation has felt like a dream, and maybe that’s how you’ve coped. But the longer it lasts, the more real it feels.

One night, it catches up with you and you have a good cry. You try to be quiet. You try to stop, but you can’t. So you let it go, you just sob.

After a while, you hear the heavy lock, and the massive door opens just enough for Joel to come in. He closes it behind him, then stands there rubbing his beard. He looks at you like he’s lost, then cautiously approaches.

“Hey,” he whispers. He sits down on the bed. You’re curled up, facing him. You don’t turn away. He strokes your arm, and you cry harder. “Oh, sweetheart.” His eyes are sad. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He knows. He lies down, facing you. He hugs you into him and you cry into his soft t-shirt, inhaling his scent with every gasp for air. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You close your eyes, wanting him to kiss you, and you’re disturbed by your own desire. You pinch your lashes shut harder, and your whole face tenses. It hurts.

“This isn’t okay,” you sob. “It’s not gonna be.” You try to push him away, but he holds you still. After all the times he’s folded, apologized, and backed off, that’s not what he does. He holds you in his arms, making you stay there. “What are you doing,” you whine, and you push at his chest. He doesn’t budge. You half-heartedly hit and kick at him, and he cages you with his leg, too. It soothes you, like a weighted blanket, but you fight it.

“Shhhh,” he holds you tight. His voice is deep and quiet against the top of your ear. “We’re gonna be happy one day,” he insists. “Promise, sweetheart.” You exhaust yourself crying, and he holds you. “I love you.” You try to ignore it, but that doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering. Soon you’re nuzzling your head into his neck, gripping his shirt in a fist like you don’t want him to go. He drapes a heavy blanket over both of you. He holds you like that until you fall asleep and your fist releases his shirt. He stays a little longer, then kisses you on the forehead and leaves.

—--

The next afternoon, Joel approaches you and sits down on the edge of the bed. “How ya feel? Ya look good,” he whispers, and cups your cheek. You don’t shrug him off.

“I’m fine,” you reply, wishing he would lie down with you again, but not wanting to invite him.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks.

“I don't care,” you answer.

He sits there in silence and places a hand on your knee.

“Got ya somethin’,” he murmurs, and stands up for a moment. He appears to get nervous as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a shallow, velvet jewelry box. He sits down again and holds the box out for you to take, but you don’t. He opens it for you. It’s a necklace. He tells you what the stone is. It’s your birthstone. It’s thoughtful, but he only knows your birthday because he has your wallet. He faces you and puts his hands around your neck as he puts the necklace on, getting his face close to yours so he can see the clasp. With his temple nearly brushing yours, you feel a surge of want. There’s no denying it. The scruff of his cheek scratches you lightly as he finishes fastening the necklace. “There,” he says, and looks at you adoringly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re one of a kind, ya know.”

He wets his lips and you notice they’re chapped, dehydrated. He’s pale. You find yourself wanting to hug him, kiss him, but you don’t. He kisses you on the cheek.

—

One night, Joel makes you a special dinner. He cuffs the two of you together, and you eat in the dining room at the big table with him again. He tells you he needs your blood again. “I don’t have to take much,” he says. “It can be tomorrow,” he offers. “Don’t wanna spring it on ya.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him. “You need it.” And the truth is, you want it. You want him to take it. You want to be taken back to that moment against your car. You want something that overwhelms your senses and puts you on another plane. You need something to remind you that you aren’t just a girl in a room, and he’s not just some guy keeping you there. If you can physically feel all of that, maybe you can let yourself relax.

After dinner, he brings you back to your room and unchains you. You sit on the bed. He turns on the fireplace and tells you he’lll be right back. When he returns, he has an old medicine bottle with a cloth. He wets the cloth and says, “I’ll lay with ya, til ya wake up, okay?”

You look at the cloth in his hand and say, “You don’t have to put me to sleep.” He adjusts the cloth in his hand. “Don’t,” you shake your head.

His brows knit, and he reads your eyes for a few seconds.

“Let me stay awake,” you plead.

“You sure?”

You nod. He closes the bottle again and puts it on your nightstand.

“Thought it scared ya,” he mumbles.

“Well it did, when it was a surprise.”

He nods solemnly. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. I really shoulda. . . I don’t even know.” If he had asked, you wonder if you would have let him. Surely not, so you can’t exactly blame him.

“Okay,” he looks you over and gets on the bed with you. “You warm enough?” He nudges the cardigan you’re wearing.

“Yeah,” you nod, and shrug it off. You’re cozy enough from the fire.

“C’mon, let’s get up here.” He guides you up the bed and gets you to lay down with your head on a pillow as if you’re going to sleep.

He gets close to you, and starts lightly stroking your shoulder as he looks you over. His eyes glue to your neck, and he wets his lips, then he pulls his eyes back to yours.

“You can choose,” he offers. “Where I take it.”

You bite your lip as you watch his face and inhale his scent.

“I can take it here again,” he caresses your neck. Then he holds your arm and lightly brushes his thumb across where you’d normally get an IV, giving you an unexpected surge in arousal. “Or here.”

He checks your face, then lays his hand on your waist. His palm skims your side, down your hip. “Or,” he runs his hand up your thigh under your dress. His thumb caresses your thigh, right near your pelvis, and he whispers, “I can take it here.” You’re nearly overwhelmed with desire already.

“I dunno,” you whisper.

He gently rolls you onto your back. He takes a deep breath, scoots down the bed, and gets between your thighs. He nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose, then whispers, "up to you, sweetheart." You're throbbing.

“Tell me what feels right,” he murmurs and nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose. His hair is fluffy and his eyes are dark and sparkly as he looks up at you. “God, you’re . . .” He reaches up and wraps a hand around your arm. “You’re perfect.”

“Where do you want?” you ask.

“Everywhere, anywhere. I want every inch of you.”

You allow yourself a little smile and hold his eyes for a few seconds.

He sits up again and offers, “I can make ya feel good.”

“I know,” you nod with a laugh.

“I mean, it’ll feel best, if you’re already feelin’ good.”

You nod with butterflies in your tummy, telling yourself it’s for a practical purpose, and you might as well enjoy it.

He nods and whispers, “Okay. . .good.” His eyes rove your body hungrily. He asks, “Anywhere ya don’t want me to touch ya?”

You say "no" so fast your cheeks heat in shame.

His eyes darken and he growls, “good,” as he prowls back up your body. His triceps swell out from under his shirt.

He kisses you tenderly below your jaw and brings a hand to your breast. You lift your chin with a sigh. He drags his lips and nose down your throat to your chest, pausing at your neckline. He looks up and you nod. He nudges the fabric aside with his nose, then plants a wet kiss on the swell of your breast, and his eyes close. He moans into your skin. Your gaze fixates on his softwash khakis, and he briefly removes his hand from your chest to adjust himself. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“s’okay,” you whisper.

“‘Sposed to be about you right now,” he murmurs, looking up at you. You tilt your head, trying to look at his pants, but the room is too dim. Truth is, you’re finding it hard to think about anything but his cock at the moment. You only felt the briefest hint of it the other night. You want to feel it all.

He slides his hand up your thigh again, and his thumb nudges just slightly under the crotch of your panties, making you twitch. He takes a deep breath through his nose, then withdraws his thumb and lets down the edge of your panties. He scoots up to lie to your side again, leaving his knee between your legs. He rests his hand on your mound, and slowly ghosts your clit, closing his eyes. When he opens his eyes again, they sparkle, and his face drifts toward yours. You don’t flinch, you don’t pull away. You let him kiss you.

With one hand still between your legs, he slides the other one under your head. He kisses you slow and deep, stroking your most sensitive spot through your panties. Your mouths remain connected as his massive hand slides up to your bare abdomen. He gives your side a little squeeze before sliding back down and nudging his fingers under the hem of your underwear. He pulls his lips from yours and looks at you darkly. It’s not a question, but you nod as his hand slides down. You gasp and his knuckles strain the fabric as he cups your naked heat. “Good,” he whispers when he feels how wet you are. “What if ya just. . .” he kisses you again, then murmurs, “let your body decide." He plants a soft, open mouth kiss on your cheek, then whispers in your ear, "I'll go everywhere. You tell me when.”

You wrap your wrists around his neck and he catches your inner arm with his mouth. He wetly kisses the inner crook of your elbow, looking up at you. Then he drags his lips down toward your chest, where he pulls your dress down. Your skin hardens with goosebumps as your nipples sharpen, and he groans softly. He kisses your bare breast, then fixes your dress, and kisses your hard nipple through the thin cotton. You arch your back and sigh. He gets between your legs and backs up as he kisses his way down your torso. He lifts your dress and thumbs your panties, sighing “oh, God.”

He lifts one of your knees over his shoulder and kisses at your cunt through the damp fabric. Your hips lift into his mouth. He licks along the edge of the crotch, then your inner thigh. He leaves a meandering trail of kisses around your inner thigh, then plants his lips and leaves a hickey. He glances up at you and adjusts himself again, and you let out a little moan. “C’mere,” You nudge him, pulling at his arms, wanting nothing more than him on top of you.

He prowls up your body and plants his hands on either side of your chest. Lays his hips into yours, and when the shape of his warm, hard package presses into your most sensitive place, you gasp and he lets out a low moan. “Should I take-” he asks, reaching for his belt. You’re nodding before he finishes the question. He uses his left hand to unbuckle his belt. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls away from you enough to take his pants off. Now he’s in long johns, and it’s quite a bulge you’re looking at. Your face and chest burn. You pull him toward you with your feet. He presses his throbbing arousal against your aching heat, and you moan. You card your fingers through his hair. “Feel so good,” you whisper.

“Good,” he whispers, then kisses your neck again.

He puts his hand on your thigh and you wrap your leg around him. He lightly grinds into you as he kisses your neck, then your cheek, then your lips again. Your mouths open and draw each other in. You breathe each other’s air and drink each other’s spit. Your lips tingle. Your chest tingles. As you kiss harder, he grinds harder against you. You badly want him inside you, but you won’t, you can’t, you shouldn’t, you tell yourself.

The next time his mouth comes to your neck, he teases you with his tongue and a bolt of pleasure shoots down your spine. Your nipples harden. He opens his mouth wider against your skin. “Do it,” you whisper, then feel the prick of his fangs against your flesh. “Do it,” you repeat, and his arousal swells against you as he sinks his teeth into your skin. Your hips lift against his. He moans into your neck, and as your blood flows into him, he gets harder. You shudder in pleasure as he takes what he needs. You move his hand from your thigh to your breast, and you lift your pelvis into his, whispering, “yeah.” You’re not lightheaded, not yet. He’s doing this slowly, pacing himself.

His warmer, harder cock twitches against you, and you reach down to grope it desperately. He groans. You grind up against him and moan, “Joel,” with a surge of need overtaking you. He ruts against you slow and hard, warm and stiff, then his cock pulses right against your clit. He groans into your neck, and you grind back against him, and the whole front of you begins to pulse with him. “Oh God,” you gasp and grab his ass, pulling him against you harder as the warmth of his cum seeps through the thermal fabric, “oh fuck,” you sigh as you cum with him.

As you finish convulsing, his fangs release you. His breath is humid against your neck. “Fuck, i’m sorry,” he mutters. He leans his cheek against your shoulder, and you can feel how warm his face is.

“Don’t be,” you whisper. “That felt really good.” He pulls back and looks at you, cheeks blotchy.

“Really?” he asks. He cups and adjusts his manhood through his damp bottoms. “I never. . .”

“I know,” you reassure him. “It’s my blood, isn’t it?”

He nods with his eyes half closed. “It’s incredible.”

You nod. “It was good for me too,” you admit.

“I could feel it,” he puts a hand on your panties. He sighs and lays half on top of you. He strokes your face. “Can I do somethin’ for ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’m good.”

He caresses your neck. “I’ll get ya some ice.”

“No,” your hand comes to his back, and you don’t let him leave. “Just stay right here.”

You lay in silence with him half on top of you. Then he props himself up to look at you.

“We're made for each other,” he whispers, looking at your mouth. He kisses you softly, then meets your eyes. “You don’t believe it yet. It’s okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t-”

“It’s okay. Don’t have to,” he reassures you. He rests his head close to yours on the same pillow, and nuzzles his nose against yours. “Just hope ya feel it one day,” he murmurs into your cheek. “I know ya will.”

You feel it. You disagree, you think, but you feel the truth in it.

He puts his arm all the way over you. His arm is solid, and you imagine very heavy, but it's not dead weight. It's tense, like he's actively holding you there, just in case.

—----

---------

--------

His parasol was inspired by @gasolinerainbowpuddles mood board.

Thank you so much for love for vampire!Joel and your patience for his story to continue.

I hear you about notifs not working, and tags too (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #vampire!joel #vampire!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dark!joel miller #cw dubcon #vampire!joel ☠️#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #dark fluff

732 notes · View notes

inspiringimarah · 1 year ago

Text

DISCLAIMER: Check if the mods are compatible if you’ve updated to the recent patch!

Use Scarlet's Realm list to check for updates 💕

overrides

Refreshed Main Menu

Urban Erotica (functional books)

No Tune After Loading

Nap Replacement Mod

Restaurant Default Menu

MyxDoll Fenty Beauty Override

HighSchool Years Textbook Override

Toothbrush override by dsco

Paintbrush Override

The Ultimate Default Underwear Collection by vixonspixels

Paired Selfie (in game photo overrides)

iPhone 12 Override OR H&B Smartphone Override (ONLY CHOOSE ONE)

UNO Card Replacement

Photo replacements (in game)

Pink Build Buy UI

Black Sitcom TV Overrides

San Sequoia Bridge Override

Realistic TV Mod (Reality TV)

Realistic Phone Icons (multiple available on CoCo Games patreon)

Phone Wallpaper Kit OR Phone Wallpaper Override (only pick one)

Control Any Sim

San Myshuno Billboards

PC Game Overrides

CocoGames Video Game Bundle

Starbucks on Campus

My Wedding Stories Engagement Ring Recolours

Stand Still in CAS Poses

Hidden Highlight

Functional Airpods

Hello Kitty Infant Seat

The Missing Plumbob

No zzz (when sim is sleeping)

Towel After Shower

Functional PS5

Black Art Painting Mod

The Sims 2 Font or Life is Strange Font (only pick one)

Gallery Poses (female)

Gallery Poses (male)

Gallery Poses (couple or duo)

Take Off Shoes With Animation

Stop Random Accessories on Townies

Parenthood Recolour - link is at the bottom of the thread

lighting

check my updated lighting mod list here

cas & loading screen

CAS background

Loading Screen Plumbob Replacement OR by pinkishwrld

Minimalist CC Wrench Override

More CAS Columns (I use 5)

Map Replacements Overhaul

I alternate my CAS backgrounds so see below for my fave creators:

- MeekGames

- LadySimmer

- SlimmazSimz

- Essemelle

- BougieChloe

- SierraTheSimmer

- Xurelia

- DonavinGames

- NeriSims

food

Somik & Severinka (I use the Realistic Cooking Mod & all others they have)

ONI Custom Food

QMBIBI Stirring the Pot

QMBIBI Thee Kitchen Tablet

Functional Breakfast Cereals

Airfryer

Waffle Maker

Pressure Cooker

gameplay

misc

Computer Side Gigs

Kuttoe Mini Mods: Small Additions

Bed Cuddle

Carry & Kiss

Longer Parties & More Guests

Functional Magazines

Better Social Media Sponsorships

Higher Lifestyle Brand Payouts

QMBIBI Skincare Mod

QMBIBI Express Delivery

QMBIBI BabyCare Overhaul

Online Skills

It’s Movie Time

BabyCare Mod

Basemental Drugs

Basemental Gangs

Celebrate Adoption

Sip & Paint Event

Luxury Real Estate Career

Recipe Notebook

Sulani Events Calendar and Flyer

Functional Personal Care Products

Go For A Jog... Together

Morning Routine

Everyone Can Sleep Together

Spa Day Face Masks From Mirrors

Pole Dance Mod

Online Apprenticeships

Turn the TV on

Ask For Money

UI Cheats

MC Command Center

Self Manicure & Pedicure

Make Functional Perfumes

Shear Brilliance - Active Hairstylist Career

Cute Romance

LOT 51

- Ring Doorbell

- Dust Buster

- Plumbros (heating, plumbing & cooling)

- Alarm Clock

- Simlink (wifi)

High School Years

Fashion Authority KimbaSprite has a tutorial on this mod here

More Classmates

Adeepinigo

I have many mods by this creator, check out their website here

Lumpinou

There is an index on Lumpinou’s Patreon with all the below mods listed, see here

- LGBTQIA+

- Memory Panel Mod

- Open Love Life

- RPO Collection “Realistic & Pregancy Overhaul”

- Science Baby Tweak

PandaSama Childbirth

SimRealist

- Mortem

- Real Estate

- Private Practice

- Sim National Bank

- Sim National Bank Bills

- Sim National Bank Financial Center

SimWithShan

- Cyber Teacher Career

- Homebody Prefences

- Housewife Aspiration

pose player mods (for in game photos)

- Andrew Poseplayer

- Teleport Any Sim

Go to creators for poses & animations:

- KatVerse

- King Black Cinema

- Frxsk0sims

- helgatisha

- AfroSimtricSims

- Gawdly Games

- Hardswae

- Maysbat

- TS4 Poses (tumblr blog)

♡

#the sims 4 #the sims 4 mods #sims 4 mods #ts4 #ts4mods

2K notes · View notes

bookshelf-dust · 1 year ago

Text

all the time

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 7,206

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, family drama, best friends to lovers type beat (lemme know if i missed anything, as always)

a/n: this got pretty long, and i’m sorry about that. i put a steve option in my 1k celebration poll, and i haven’t been able to get over it, so that’s what this is. i thought i could try it out. i haven’t really had this much fun with a fic in a long time. i know my steve audience isn’t as big, but i guess there’s a chance someone might like it.

————

The crumbs from your crackers drop into your lap, the crease of your book catching them. You set your spoon back down, flipping the hardback over to ensure no crumb will be left lingering in between the pages.

You’re curled into the end chair at the table, just as always, legs crossed and book nestled against your bare legs. Your parents sit across from each other, talking about whatever, but you aren’t listening.

You dunk a cracker in your soup, holding it there for a moment to let it soak up the broth, before tossing it into your mouth. You continue on this way—alternating between scooping up noodles or chicken and drowning saltines—until you have nothing left but the dregs in your bowl.

You mark the page in your book, tuck it under your thigh. You’re tipping the bowl backwards, drinking the rest of the soup, when your mother says your name loudly enough to tear you from your stupor.

You swallow and wipe your mouth haphazardly with a napkin. “What?”

“Your father and I were just talking about your sister’s wedding.”

You raise your eyebrows, wondering if she’s actually being serious.

“No shit.”

Your father sets his cup down, glaring at you. “Language.”

“Sorry,” you say, though there’s no real meaning in the word.

Your sister has told practically every goddamn person in Hawkins that she’s getting married at the end of the month. Everyone is talking about her wedding. A wedding that you don’t give one singular fuck about.

She’s marrying her high school sweetheart, they’re moving into a sweet new house in the suburbs, blah blah blah. She’s doing the same shit every other peaked-in-high-school woman her age is doing. And you can’t be bothered to care.

Not only that, but you have to be a bridesmaid. You’re not very close with your sister, so her choosing another friend as her maid of honor really didn’t hurt you. Frankly, you would’ve been fine if she’d left you out of the bridal party completely.

None of this is really as spectacular as everyone’s made it out to be.

“Anyhow,” your mother begins, “you know she’s allowing her guests to bring a plus one.” She pauses, and you raise your eyebrows again, not understanding the need for dramatics here.

“Well, she asked if you were going to bring someone, and I told her that you were.”

You push back from the table, entirely too confused. “What?”

“Honey, don’t get so frantic. I didn’t think you would want to be alone, especially considering your attitude towards the entire function.”

You take a deep breath, pressing your fingers into your eyelids.

“I thought you could bring that boyfriend of yours. Actually, that’s what I told her. She’s already put in the name for a place card.”

“Mom, are you out of your mind?”

She gasps, taking a sip of her wine to gather herself. Your father chooses this moment to begin clearing up the table.

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” you exclaim.

Her eyes widen. “What do you mean? I told her you’d bring that boy, Steve. You spend an awful lot of time with him for him to not be your boyfriend.”

You feel like you’re choking on air. Like your dinner is going to come up if she doesn’t cut this out. “That’s because he’s my friend!”

“You’re always with him, sweetie. Much more than I ever was with any of my male friends.” She clearly doesn’t believe that he’s not your boyfriend. Like it’s impossible that he isn’t.

You shove past her and into the kitchen, utterly exasperated. Why are people making decisions for you? Why is your mother suddenly proclaiming to everyone that you’re in a relationship you didn’t even know you were in?

When you turn around from facing the sink, both of your parents are staring at you. “What now? Something else you’ve told the whole damn town about me?”

Your mother reaches out to you, but you brush her off. You’re a little too pissed for any sort of cooing right now.

“I’m sorry I assumed he was your boyfriend, honey. But you have to bring him, or else the family will ask questions and there will be an empty space next to you. Personally, I’d find that embarrassing.”

You push your way out of the kitchen, more than done with this situation. “You’ll be lucky if I even go to the damn wedding. And, personally, I wouldn’t go blabbing about things I’ve just assumed about my own daughter rather than just talking about them with her.”

When you turn down the hall, your father is rubbing his forehead, and your mother is looking at you like you should be grateful for her having assured you have company for the big event.

“This could be good for you!” she shouts, and your only response is the slam of your bedroom door.

In hindsight, of course the slam was childish, but you really can’t believe your mother.

You’ve never been so frustrated with her in your life. And yeah, you’ll go to the wedding, but what gave her the right to do that? This is your life. Not hers.

Normally, you would call Steve about something like this, but shit, you can’t.

Steve. As your boyfriend?

That’s too much for your brain to handle right now. You throw yourself on the bed and call it a night.

————

“So, let me get this straight,” Robin begins, holding up her hands so as to count off your main points. “Your mother just told everyone that you have a boyfriend, that this boyfriend is Steve, of all people, and that he’s your plus one to your bitchy sister’s wedding?”

The countertop is cold when you press your forehead against it. “Yes,” you whine.

You’d gotten up first thing this morning and head to Family Video, needing to spill your guts to the one and only person who would surely match your energy and try to help you handle the situation.

Your arms are laid out in front of you, hands dangling over the edge of the counter and reaching for Robin on the other side. She grabs hold of them and squeezes. “That’s one hell of a pickle you’re in. But! Lucky for you, I’m gonna help you figure it out.”

You squeeze her hands back, only to jerk your head up at an alarmingly fast rate. Robin cringes like you’re going to give yourself whiplash. You’ve just had an absolutely terrifying thought.

“Steve’s not working today, is he?”

Robin tries to think off the top of her head, but there are too many thoughts rambling around in there, so she’s quick to consult the schedule pinned to the wall behind her. She probably could’ve told you the times of each of his shifts if only you hadn’t asked.

“He won’t come in until this afternoon. Three-thirty, to be exact.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank fuck. I’m not ready to see him yet. He’s going to notice something’s wrong and then he’ll want to talk about it and then it’ll just be a big fat shit show.”

Robin props her chin up with her hand, elbow resting against the green countertop. “You know, maybe that’s a good thing. He already knows you so well that he’ll probably make a great boyfriend.”

“Robin, what?”

She’s plotting and you’ve never felt more afraid.

“Well, you can’t just not take him to the wedding after all of this, right? It would be ten times messier now that your mom has told all of Hawkins that Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. And you know he’ll agree to go, being ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ and whatnot. Besides, you’ve gotta admit that there’s chemistry between the two of you.”

You go to speak, but she holds a hand up to stop you.

“So you tell him about your little predicament, and maybe he can just act as your boyfriend for the night?” She smiles nervously, shoulders rising in slight fear of your reaction. “You two are best friends, no one’s bound to be the wiser.”

“Robin, are you suggesting that I just fake-date the man?”

She raises her hands in a don’t-shoot-the-messenger gesture. “What’s the harm in it? It’s just a one time thing. You go, you get it over with, and Steve will be there the whole time. It’ll be totally fine.”

You drag your hands down your face, peeking at her through your fingers. This is insane. This is fucking delusional. But it could work, couldn’t it?

A customer comes in, and you step to the side while Robin helps them at the counter. Chemistry? Maybe Robin’s right. Not that you’d ever tell her that.

Last Valentine’s, Steve showed up at your place after dark, flowers in hand, knowing full well that you hate the holiday. “I just wanted you to feel special,” he’d said. “And I love you and everything.” You’ve been saying that to each other for forever it seems. And you mean it. He’s your best friend. But now you’re wondering if maybe he means it in a different way. Or if that’s just what you want to think.

Steve doesn’t know that you pressed a few of the flowers to keep, or that you’ve saved the stubs from the movies you’ve seen together. You think about how he holds your hand on the way up the theater stairs, keeping you from tripping and spilling popcorn everywhere. How he offers to go out with you when you need to be away from home, not wanting to leave you alone. That he takes your bag from you the second he notices you adjusting it, straps digging into your shoulder.

Your hands start to sweat, and you feel like this could either go just as Robin’s told you, or it could go really fucking badly.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Robin’s voice breaks you out of your stupor. She’s waving her hand in front of your face.

“Listen honey, I can see your brain working from here. I know you’re coming up with every possible way that this could go wrong. Just talk to him! It might go really well. You never know.”

Robin boops you on the nose and starts to walk towards the staff room. It’s her way of signaling that you need to get your shit together.

“Good luck! I love you!”

You grab your keys and make for the door, flipping her off as you go. She only blows a kiss in response.

————

You’d been pacing your room when Steve called and offered to take you to the bookstore. Really he just wanted to spend time with you, and you needed to spill your guts. You spent an hour contemplating calling him, going over to see him, maybe even just cutting yourself off from him as a whole. In fact, cutting yourself off from the world had crossed your mind, but he’d since prevented that.

Now Steve hovers behind you while you wander down an aisle filled with mystery novels. None of them are catching your eye.

There’s a warmth behind you, and you look up to see Steve. He reaches above your head, one hand on your waist, and pulls something down. He flips it around in his hands before holding it out to you. “What about this one?”

Surprisingly enough it does sound vaguely interesting. “You have to read it after I do.”

He grins. “Yes ma'am.”

And we will read it. You know that he will because he’s done it before. He’s sat on your couch and blabbed about books to you, whining about this character, asking you a question about that plotline. Robin’s voice chirps in your head. Chemistry. Shit.

Steve takes the book back from you. He never lets you carry anything.

You walk further into the store, your feet carrying you to the same places they always do. You end up in a quiet corner, and your heart rate picks up. Not telling him is only hurting you more. You take a deep breath.

“Steve, I gotta tell you something.”

He crosses his arms and leans against the end cap. “Shoot.”

“You know how my sister is getting married?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I’d say I’m familiar with the event.”

You’d smile if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you might puke at any moment. “Well she decided that guests could have a plus one.” Steve hates the way he warms up at that. At the fact that he wants you to take him. He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well my mother decided to tell everyone that I’d bring you. As my boyfriend.”

Steve coughs, and your head jerks in his direction. “Your boyfriend?”

You press your hands together. “Yeah. She said she assumed that we were dating because we’re always together, and when my sister asked if I’d be bringing someone, she just told her that it would be you.”

You make eye contact with Steve. His cheeks have gone red. “So naturally, she’s already had your nameplate printed. And now, what I’m saying is that I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend and go to my sister’s wedding with me.” The last part spills out of your mouth faster than you’d intended.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you start to panic. It’s as if you’ve been sent into overdrive, like every sense in your body is on high alert. If this goes wrong, Robin’s ass is grass.

You back into the corner of the aisle, book spines pressing into your back. “I realize I said I need you to do this, but I should have prefaced it by saying that of course you don’t have to, and I don’t expect you to–”

“I’ll do it.”

Steve pushes his hair back from his forehead.

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it. I don’t mind.”

“Steve, are you sure?”

He’s moving into your personal space bubble, hands grasping for your arms where you’ve tucked them behind your back. He pulls them out, hands sliding down your forearms until he’s got your hands in his. His palms are warm, and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are. There’s a ring on his pinky finger too, and it takes you by surprise, considering he’s not usually one for jewelry. You’ll have to ask him about it later, assuming you survive this.

“I’m sure. I’m not just going to let you show up after your mom did all that shit. She’s more trouble than she’s worth, if you ask me. But I promise, I don’t mind. I’ll go and be your boyfriend. I don’t know how good I’ll be, but hey…we’ll see.”

You pull your hand away to smack him on the arm. He winces like you’ve brutally wounded him.

“Don’t you dare say that, Steven. You’d make an excellent fake boyfriend. And a kickass real one. Don’t let me hear that shit again.”

You let go of him and start to walk away.

Steve chuckles. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll beat your ass, Harrington. And you’d definitely lose that one.”

He catches up to you and his hands find your waist again, though he struggles to hold on when you’re continually moving.

“Hey,” he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out at you. “Not fair.”

You look back up at him and reach up to pat his cheek. It’s warmer than you’d expected, and still all rosy. “Sorry, sorry.”

“That’s not very nice of a fake girlfriend.”

You snort. “Ha! I guess my fake girlfriend skills aren’t up to the great Steve Harrington’s standards.”

“You’re being so mean to me today.” He rests his chin on your shoulder while you pick through a sale pile.

“Only yanking your chain, dearest.”

He chuckles, and you can feel his breath against your neck.

You start to wonder if maybe everyone has a point. You do spend the majority of your time with Steve, and you are touchy, but that’s just the kind of person Steve is. You hadn’t realized how much you enjoyed physical touch from another person, even when it’s the most mundane action, until him. Robin is the same way, always holding your hands or leaning on you. They’re spoiling you.

But the more you think about it, the more you realize that you’ve started to crave Steve’s touch when he’s not around. At night when you feel lonely, when you’re staring at the ceiling and letting your thoughts engulf you, you wish he was there to give you a hug. You wish he was there when you’re eating lunch alone and his leg isn’t pressed against yours under the table. You miss the warmth and the weight of him beside you on the couch. It’s like there’s a part of your brain that’s reserved for him, and suddenly you’re worried that this fake dating Steve thing might be the worst decision you’ve ever made.

————

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes, and I’m going to leave this with you until the masquerade is complete so that both of you morons have a reminder of your agreement.”

Robin sits on Steve’s couch, white board in hand. She’s brought way too many markers with her. She decided it would be best if you and Steve had a list of things that are acceptable for your temporary fake romance. She also insisted she be moderator.

“Masquerade? Is that really what we’re calling this?” Steve looks at you.

“No. It’s not.”

“Both of you! Focus!” Robin uncaps a marker and throws the lid at Steve. He catches it. “Now, what kinds of things are okay to do during this little performance? I’m talking, hugging, handholding, kissing, the lot of it. Now shoot.”

Steve looks at you again. “What do you think? This is your family that we’ll be around.”

Your knee starts to bounce.

The majority of your little charade will be during the reception, and having to stand during the ceremony is saving you much more trouble than you’d realized. You never thought you’d be grateful to be a bridesmaid. But now there’s the added pressure of knowing Steve will be watching you then, that your family will be watching the both of you afterwards.

Steve catches your shaking leg and is quick to put a hand out to steady you. He knows you’re nervous.

“See? That’s good. Believable.” Robin is staring at the two of you, or more specifically, at where Steve’s hand rests on your knee.

Steve pulls his hand back. “Okay, so we can hold hands?” you say, questioning yourself already. “You can touch me, like that or like you usually do.”

“I can do that. Hands, arms, back. That alright?”

You start to warm up. “Yeah, that works. What about you? I don’t want to be too handsy or anything but it might be weird if I don’t touch you at all.”

Steve sits back in his chair while Robin scribbles away, her bulletpoints little stars. There are two sides, one for each of you.

“All of that is fine with me too. I really don’t mind, and I think you know I like physical affection. But you know when you like, hang on my arm sometimes? I really like that.”

Robin smiles brilliantly. “That’s good! Makes you look super lovey-dovey.” She jots it down under Steve’s name.

You try not to let it show, but Steve’s words are running rampant in your head. I really like that. He does? You hadn’t realized it before.

“What else?” Robin asks. “Kissing? How do we feel about that?”

“Uh—I hadn’t really thought about it,” you tell her. And you hadn’t. The thought of Steve kissing you at all, other than the top of your head like he’s done before, makes you feel like your heart has just dropped out of your ass. “But I suppose it’d be weird if we didn’t at all, you know?”

You’re looking at Steve, hoping he’ll feel the same way, searching for some sort of consolation.

“No, yeah, that’s a good point.” He’s quiet for a moment before continuing, “What about your cheeks and forehead and stuff? Maybe the face is fair game? And you can do the same for me.”

You wipe your palms across your thighs. Kissing Steve. Steve kissing you. You’re losing your shit.

“Yeah, that’s totally fine. That works.” You’re amazed that you’ve even managed to get the words out.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, you know?” Steve’s expression is soft. You know he’s being serious with you.

“I know. And I don’t want to make you feel that way either. I want this to be a perfectly comfortable evening.”

“And I’m sure it will be!” Robin claps her hands together, setting her board down against the couch cushions beside her.

She stands abruptly. “Basically you’re just behaving like you normally do, but with a little more hands-on action, you know?”

Steve quirks a brow, taking a furtive glance at you. “What do you mean, like we normally do?”

Robin moves towards her best friend and crouches, taking his hands in hers. “Uh…what are you doing?”

“Listen, little Stevie, you’re a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you’re always all over the lovely lady to our left. You can’t deny that.”

“I mean—yeah.”

Robin nods her head. Steve struggles to keep eye contact with her, knowing you’re watching the interaction.

“And you’ve rubbed off on her! She wasn’t really like this before you, Harrington.”

This time he jerks his head towards you. “Really?”

He’s thinking about your hugs, how you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze. About how you always take his hand when he offers it, or how you'll toss a leg over his on the couch. Any other sort of behavior would feel strange.

You feel yourself go all warm. Feel your chest squeeze. You’re forgetting how to breathe. She’s completely right. Steve has brought out a side of you that you swore you didn’t have. The side that longs for affection. Maybe more.

You nod your head at him.

“Yeah,” Robin says, “Most I’d get out of her was some hand holding before you came around.”

She releases Steve from her grasp and rises once again.

“But my point is, you two are going to make a fantastic fake couple. And maybe even an excellent real one.”

Steve face palms. “Robin.”

“Sorry, sorry! Make sure to take pictures for me, alright? I’ll be so sad to miss this happening in person.”

Steve stands, grabbing Robin’s bag for her. “Yep. Alright. See you later, Rob.”

He looks at you with what you’re quite positive is fear in his eyes. He leads her to the door, and you can’t help but chuckle, even if you’re nervous as shit, as he reassures her that there will be pictures, and that you’ll tell her all about it.

————

“Just hang it up on the doorframe, and then you can hold stuff up to it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

You sit cross legged in the center of Steve’s bed, watching him rummage through his closet. He’s going to knock your dress on the floor if he doesn’t quit his frenzy.

You’d told him it wasn’t necessary that he coordinate his outfit with yours, but he insisted, so you brought your dress over for him to see. Steve has a feeling that when he sees you in it he’s going to lose his shit, not that he can tell you that.

“You know, I never thought these would be useful. But I guess your asshole dad dragging you to business events pays off sometimes.”

Steve lifts a bunch of hangers from the rack and pulls them out of his closet, setting them on the bed beside you.

“Fancy,” you say, smirking.

He rubs his hand over his chin, the other braced against his hip. “Yeah.”

You can tell he’s a little frazzled at this. The reminder of dressing himself up to be paraded around by his father—a father who doesn’t spare Steve a second when not in the public eye.

You hate that you’ve made him dig up all these memories.

“They all fit okay?” you question.

He nods, that one insistent lock of hair slipping free. He pushes it back before you have the chance to.

You slide off the side of the bed and stand. You gesture for him to sit and that gets a smile out of him.

After he’s settled, you lift each suit up one by one, seeing which matches the blue of your dress best. You’re only glad that your sister picked a nice shade: a dark, rich midnight blue. The kind you’d be able to spot from far off in a department store and need to take a look.

You get to a sort of soft gray one, and Steve stops you. You hook it up on the doorframe beside your dress.

“I think that looks nice, yeah?”

You walk backwards until your spine meets Steve’s knees. You brace yourself, hands on his calves. His chin meets the top of your head because of how high up the bed is.

“I like it a lot, Harrington.”

He snorts, and you can feel the puff of air against your scalp. He’s warm, his presence all around you. His cologne, maybe his shampoo if you let yourself fall in between his legs. But you don’t. You stand.

“Looks pretty solid to me,” you tell him, though your grin falters just slightly enough for him to catch it.

He puts a gentle hand on your cheek, making sure you keep your eyes locked on his.

“Hey. It’s gonna be great, okay? You’re going to kill it in that dress. Probably kill me, actually,” he laughs. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

“Alright, Steven.” You’re trying not to over-analyze that comment. This is not the time to get sweaty.

He stands up, hand sliding down from your cheek to cover your collarbones. You wrap your arms around his back on instinct, and you swear you see him blush as he moves to encircle you in his own.

“Does being your fake boyfriend mean your incessant picking has only gotten worse?”

You rest your forehead against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat. You think about how nice it might be to do this all the time. What it might be like if he weren’t your fake boyfriend, but your real one.

“Mhm,” you mumble. “I plan on continuing it, too.”

Steve’s hands run up and down your back.

“I look forward to it,” he whispers. There’s a part of you that knows he means it.

————

Steve hasn’t stopped looking at you since you met him at the door to the wedding venue.

You’d run down, more than happy to have company that wasn’t your sister's bitchy bridal party.

He stands with you now, waiting until he’s allowed to take his seat, and you can feel his eyes burning into you.

Not that you’re any better than he is.

His suit fits him just right, and every time he pushes his hair around, you watch his shoulders move under his jacket. It’s driving you insane. And he’s wearing that fucking ring again. Except this time, there’s also one on the middle finger of his opposite hand.

The sun is hitting him just right, turning his eyes this amber color. It’s mesmerizing. You notice then that his tie is the same blue as your dress.

“Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Did you have that? Just lying around?”

He follows your gaze to his chest. No, he absolutely didn’t. He ran out and picked one up in a shade as close as he could get it to yours. Wearing something that felt like a piece of you had his mind abuzz. Abuzz with you.

It’s the same way he feels about these rings Robin bought him. She said you were into them, always talking about Steve’s hands or something. He’s started to like them, but really it’s for you. Most things are.

“Yeah. I found it in a drawer.”

Robin would slap him if she were here. He doesn’t know why he lies, but he does. And then you’re blushing and he’s got to sit down. He squeezes your hand one last time, an encouraging gesture, but one that has so much more buried beneath it.

The ceremony thankfully goes quickly for you, and you’re grateful, hating having to stand up there like you give a shit, like your sister is some saint.

For Steve, it’s the slowest wedding he’s ever been to. You look so fucking gorgeous and he can’t keep it together. He barely even pays attention to the wedding, too busy looking at you. The way your indifference shows on your face, even if you know you’ll hear about it later. The way your hands wrap around the little bouquet you’ve been given. The way the setting sun sets your skin alight, and he thinks that you might truly be the death of him.

When the ceremony has concluded, when Steve is looking for you in the reception hall, he realizes he has to tell you so. You deserve to know how gorgeous you are. He’s beating himself up for having said you looked ‘great,’ and that was all.

You spot him first, and rush to him like you had before, anxious to be near him.

“My mother is looking for me,” you tell him.

“You want to get some air?” His hand finds the small of your back, already leading you away from the crowd and just outside the doors.

“You’re such a good fake boyfriend.”

You suck in a breath of cool air, shake your hands out.

Steve smirks, hands moving up to massage at your shoulders before he even has a chance to give the action a second thought. “Just knew you’d like to get away is all.”

Knew.

The word hits you and you feel like you’ve been slapped. Goddammit, Robin. She’s been in your head all day, and you’ve done nothing but pick up on the little things Steve does for you, the things he seems to know about you, that make him so much more than just a best friend.

You’re fucked.

“Thank you, Steve. For that, and for coming to this. It means a lot to me.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’d do it again.”

He’s looking at you with such fondness, and you have a feeling he wants to say more. You grab hold of one of his wrists, locking your eyes with his in hopes that it will communicate the message. Go ahead.

He exhales. This sort of thing used to be so easy for him, but it’s never been that way with you. He knows it’s because you aren’t just some chick he wants to take out. You’re everything. And he’s fumbling for words.

“I, uh, I wanted to tell you that…” You squeeze his wrist, and he continues, albeit with a shaky voice. “I wanted to tell you that you look beautiful.”

A smile creeps up and onto your face before you can stop it.

“I mean, you always look beautiful, b-but tonight you’re just—stunning. Like, totally breathtaking. Don’t let anyone hear this, but I’d even say you look better than the bride.”

You let out a laugh then, the kind that comes straight from your belly, rich and sickly sweet. It makes Steve laugh, too. He can’t believe you. You’re unbelievable.

“Sorry, Steve, I just–fuck that was so funny.” You straighten up, putting your serious face back on. “Thank you for saying that. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m serious, you know. You’re gorgeous.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, lips warm and plush against your skin.

You go all warm and fuzzy inside. “Thank you, Stevie.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, just because he can.

“You look pretty too, you know.”

Steve blushes at your comment, and it’s at this very moment that your mother’s voice rings out, “Sweetie! Come in here, people want to see you!”

Fear flashes across your face, any trace of the sweet flirtiness there seconds before having vanished.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says, watching you gesture towards your mother, telling her you’re on your way. “Let’s do this, yeah?”

You make eye contact with him, and he grabs hold of your hand, weaving his fingers between yours. “Yeah.”

————

“So, how’d the two of you meet?”

You’re surrounded by a crowd of women, some are your family–your mother and sister–some women you’re not even sure you know.

“School.” Steve saves you from having to speak first. “We went to high school together, but we met through a mutual friend.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “Robin,” you tell her.

“Oh! What a lovely young lady.”

Steve snorts and you slap him on the back. Not that anyone could’ve seen it with how close he’s got you pressed to his side. “Yep,” Steve coughs, “She’s great.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, hoping it’ll give him a moment to suppress his smile. Your sister steps away from her friends, catching the action.

“So, Steve, does she treat you okay? I know my sister can be a bit frantic sometimes.” You watch your mother down the rest of her wine, and you know she’s hoping nothing breaks out between the two of you like it has plenty of times before.

Steve’s arm wraps more firmly around you, his hand coming to rest on your hip. Everyone has their eyes locked on you, waiting, hoping that Steve will spill some sort of secret that they can spread throughout Hawkins like wildfire. Nothing beats good gossip around here.

He squeezes your hip, and for a split second you think the gesture might be possessive. Protective, even.

“She does. Your sister is considerate and thoughtful, and she’s the best woman I know. I’ve never felt more comfortable than I do with her. And if she’s ever frantic, it only helps her deal with me when I’m the same way.”

You feel like you could pass out. Because you know he meant every damn word of that. You know he isn’t lying.

Your sister looks between the two of you. “Well, I suppose that’s good to hear.” Her smile is nothing but insincere when she walks off to greet another wedding guest.

One of your aunts swoops in, and Steve feels you clutch his side a little harder. He has a feeling you’re about to be ridiculed.

“Such a lovely day, isn’t it? You two ever think about tying the knot?”

Steve pinks and your hand slips under his suit jacket, clutching at the fabric of his shirt instead. Is this really the time?

“No,” you pipe up. “I haven’t really given it much thought.”

The woman frowns at you. “Well, isn’t that silly? You better get around to it sooner than later, honey. Take after your big sister. You won’t be young forever.”

You go to speak, but Steve’s already begun. “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t have to get married on anyone else’s terms. Hell, she doesn’t have to get married at all, and I can say that in utmost confidence. Maybe back off, okay?”

Your aunt looks absolutely scandalized, as if she cannot bear to accept what just happened to her.

Steve starts to lead you away from the group. “Come on, baby.”

Baby.

Steve called you ‘baby.’

You don’t have time to analyze that though with the way he’s escorting you back outside. He parks you on a bench and starts to pace in front of you.

“I can see why you didn’t want to do this now. Jesus, are they always like that? I thought my dad’s colleagues were dicks, but my god.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Wait—can you call judgmental ladies dicks?”

You snort and bury your face in your hands. “Yes, Steve, I think so.” It comes out muffled, but he hears it all the same.

When you look up, Steve is staring at you, and he’s much closer than he had been. He starts to say something, but both your mother and sister have shown up, looking for you.

“Sweetie! What are you doing out here?” Your mother looks frazzled, and maybe a little tipsy. You knew your sister would be a bitch on her wedding day, but apparently your mother hadn’t yet realized.

“Escaping the mob.”

“Your aunt isn’t entirely pleased with your behavior, I’ve been told.”

You stand up then. “Honestly, mom, I don’t really give a shit. I came to this wedding, like you told me to. I brought, Steve, like you told me to. And I just don’t care anymore. I’m sick of your bullshit.”

She looks aghast, way more than your aunt had.

You look at your sister, who’s clearly hoping to see you fuck up.

“Congratulations on fucking yourself over. You’ll have a severely depressing marriage.”

“C’mon, Steve.”

He takes your hand, and he can’t help but giggle as he follows you out.

————

“Sweetheart? You comin’?”

You’ve stopped halfway up Steve’s stairs, a far off look in your eyes. He’d brought you back to his place to stay the night, and now that you’re here, it’s like every thought you’ve had about him is fit to burst. This cannot just be a tonight situation. You can’t let this end here.

You drop your dress where you’d been holding it up to prevent yourself from tripping.

“Maybe Robin’s right. About the chemistry.”

Steve’s hands go to his hips. He’s got no idea what you’re on about, but the way you’re looking at him is enough to have his heart rate kicking up a notch. “Chemistry?”

“Yeah. She pointed it out. And she said we’d make a fantastic couple, remember?”

He blushes. He hopes this is going where he thinks it is. Tonight has made him realize how much more you are to him than just a friend. He wants you all the time. “Yeah, I remember.”

Your heart is pounding and you feel like you can’t really breathe, but if you don’t say this now, you’re not sure you ever will.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” He’s never been so stressed in his life. He’s actually starting to sweat.

You exhale and push the words out. “I don’t want you to be my fake boyfriend. I want you to be my real one.”

He coughs, chokes really, and you move up the stairs towards him to make sure he’s okay and not actually sick over the matter.

“Are you sure?” he asks, surprising himself with the ability to speak considering how raw his throat feels.

“Wouldn’t have said so if I felt otherwise, Harrington.”

There she is, he thinks. You really want him. Just like he does you. He can’t believe it.

“Again with the picking. You’re so mean to me.”

You smirk, your hands finding his sides again. You seem to have some attachment to them, and Steve wonders if it’s because you know there are scars underneath. If you’re telling him more than what you can bear to say. Giving him a glimpse of all you have to offer him, all the love you might hope to share.

“I’ll show you mean, you little shit.”

You press your lips against his before you can second guess yourself, before you let that little voice win.

Steve hums in surprise, but it’s clear he’s not upset by the gesture with the way he responds to your touch. His hands find your neck, thumbs stroking over your cheeks.

He’s kissing you back, and fuck if he’s not trying to tell you everything he’s been feeling.

When you pull away for air, Steve’s too greedy to let you go. He pecks your lips once, twice more, and when he really can’t breathe, he peppers your face instead. Now that you’ve given him the chance, he seriously can’t get enough of you.

“Damn.”

You laugh, and push that strand of hair back where it goes, this time getting to it before he can.

You take Steve’s wrist in your hand. It’s late. You hadn’t realized how worn out you were, but you are.

“Can we go to sleep?” you ask, searching his brown eyes. His lashes are unfairly long, but you’ll have to berate him about it later.

“Do I get another one of those before bed?” He’s already hauling you up the stairs, wanting you settled.

“If you’re good.”

————

“So when did it happen?” Robin’s voice is almost accusatory.

“What?”

You’re standing close enough to Steve to ensure that you can hear Robin on the other side.

“When did this love confession take place?”

“That’s not what it was—”

“Just tell me when, dingus!”

“Last night, after we got home. She told me she didn’t want it to be fake anymore.”

“Shit!”

Steve rolls his eyes. You fuss with the belt loops on his jeans, trying to figure out what she’s been up to. “What did you do?” he asks.

“I owe Dustin twenty.”

“You bet on us?” Your voice is loud enough that she hears it, and you know she’s cringing even if you can’t see it.

“Maybe? Yes. I bet that you’d give up the act later than that, that you two would be cowards about it. Figured you’d both wallow in self pity for a while before you just came out and said how you feel.”

Steve looks at you, and mouths: Are you hearing this?

Robin keeps going. “Dustin said you’d come to your senses quicker than that. He bet on the wedding day specifically. Goddamnit!”

You take the phone from Steve, and his forehead meets your shoulder. You can feel the way he shakes with laughter.

“Thanks for having so much faith in us, Rob.”

She chuckles. “What? You’re both extremely good at lying to yourselves. I expected this to be much more dramatic.”

“Mhm,” you start, a plan forming in your mind. Steve can almost feel it. “Hey, Robin?”

“Yes?”

“Just for that, I’m calling in sick for Steve today. That shift is all yours.”

“No. Nononono—”

You hang up the phone. That means there won’t be the buffer that is Steve Harrington to prevent Robin having to interact with Keith. She’ll be stuck with him all evening.

“That was just cruel,” Steve laughs.

You cross your arms. “Oh, so you wanna go in then?”

He smiles at you and holds his arms out. You move into the circle of them. His hands find your waist and squeeze. “No, I didn’t say that. I haven’t had a day off in months.”

“So quit whining.”

“See? I’ve only been your real boyfriend for like, a matter of hours, and you’re still being so mean to me.”

You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his lips. It seems to appease him.

“Was that mean?”

“Not at all.”

You grin and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Mean and a tease. Wow.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “Only for you, Stevie.”

He takes your face in his hands, fingers pushing gently into your skin.

“Damn right.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson

#savannah’s fics #steve harringtion #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #robin buckley #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington comfort

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aquasarsstuff · 4 months ago

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Your Choice, Dating sim au

Heartslabyul Route:

Summary: Awakening in a dating simulation, you find yourself immersed in a realm of whimsical fantasy, a stark contrast to the modern world you’re accustomed to. In this alternate universe where you’ve landed, will you navigate towards your fairytale ending or become ensnared in a complex web of deception? The outcome depends on your choice.

A month has passed since you've been whisk away from your home, yet you could still never get accustomed to this new world you were place on. Despite this world matching the sets of historical films and fiction you've read, it has far more advanced technology than your world's pinkie toe, due to the existence of magic. As such a heavy burden was place on your shoulders as one of the children of aristocracy: pretending to have magic. From the hush whispers sent to you by your parents, it was without a doubt that you don't possess magic. Even so, your weekdays are always used to learn more about magic and whatnot to be able to blend with fellow mage.

The setting and the plot of your life screams of familiarity inside your head. It took a few days before it finally click. You were inside one of the dating sim you've played before. There were four main leads or was it the only routes you've only got to finish? You're not sure, but you had all the information you have to survive from your bad ending. You were neither a protagonist nor an antagonist, not even a side character! Just an unseen character use as a bridge to bring romance between the protagonist and love interest in one of the routes.

You brought down the book to your table. Its pages were at least two inch thick, and its width stretches from your wrist to your elbow. You've been staring hollowly at far distance for a few minutes that you didn't notice the discomfort it brings on your skin for putting all of the weight of the book on your lap. You pressed flatly and straighten your outfit. It would not be nice to be seen unkept if there were guest to arrive, invited or not.

What will you do?

Option 1: Get out of the room

Option 2: Escape through the window

Option 3: Stay in the room (Keep reading)

You opted to get a snack, but if one of the servants caught you leaving the room, they might report it to your father, and the last thing you want these days is to get scolded for slacking off. You leaned your back closer to the couch. Its plump cushion being pressed down your weight. The number of materials on the table that is in dire need to be read, rest peacefully. Most of it were still left untouched by you. You did try to read it, for heaven's sake, but its meaning on every page was ancient to you, and it's not because you have a bad reading comprehension. It's due to the fact that you are no magic user. The books were enchanted, but you can't even feel a tinge of its presence under your fingertips, hence you can't make a connection to understand the contents. You can only sigh in frustration and scream internally, otherwise the other people living in the house might think you're getting kidnapped or something.

A boisterous laugh echoed the hall. Finally, the hours of torture will come to an end. You picked the book you were holding earlier and opened it to where you last left it off to create an illusion that you were reading as per orders. The doors to your study room opened in a flash, loud sounds of footsteps hitting the marble floor followed. A man with an orange hair, that reminds you of a carrot you had for breakfast this morning, peek inside the room. A smile as bright as his hair decorated his lips. It was Cater, your personal butler since childhood is what they said, yet you can't find any reason to believe any of those perfect grin. He did get you in trouble for several occasions.

You grip the hard covers of the book firmly in your hand, your nails digging on the thick leather. Something in your mind told you to raise this book to your face, and you did. A click was heard, before he finally stepped out of the doors, a weird gadget in his hand, presumably a camera of some sorts. You gently close the book down, and let it seat on your lap. A particularly large sigh escaped his lips, showing his absolute discontentment.

"What a shame, that shot was so perfect if it only captured your face." He took a glance at the gadget he has, probably looking again at the said photo.

What will you do?

Option 1: Say nothing

Option 2: Be condescending

Option 3: Ask his intentions (Keep reading)

"What are you doing here? Is it the time for dinner?" You still asked him, even though you knew what his arrival meant. What you don't know is why did his obsession for taking pictures was suddenly directed on to you. Nevertheless, this only strengthen your distrust for him. It's probably because of those pictures that he was able to snitch you on to your father. What was his intention? Is it fear? Loyalty? Or something else?

Entering Cater's route: (To be continued)

---------

More options will come out later. Please tell me if you wish me to continue this au. Writing Cater was honestly just fuels my writer block ahahhaha

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Precarious 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, arranged marriage, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you're forced to leave the pages of your books and face reality.

This is part of the Three Sisters for Three Misters AU (this reader is know as Wren)

Characters: Loki

Note: Here is the second one!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don’t know when your perch grew so uncomfortable but it is preferable to the alternative. You lean against the trunk, legs hooked around the thick branch for balance, as you delve into a world not your own. You build the pillars in your mind, paint the vivid landscapes, and mold the characters into silhouettes. Fiction has always been much more interesting than reality. And safer.

Still, your denial is a hefty a shield as those pages. Neither can protect you from the inevitable. The hours tick away on your watch and countdown to your fate.

The bell will soon toll with the screech of your mother’s voice. She will be certain to sniff you out of your nest. You sigh wistfully and close the book. How many hours had you wiled away just like that? How many days had you spent ignorant to your own freedom? It is all coming to an end, though can’t truly say you ever lived outside captivity. Yet, what you know is always better than the unknown.

Your brow twitches and you rub it to calm the tight muscle. You nearly knock your round glasses off in the process. As you straighten them, you can already hear your mother’s remonstrance. ‘Why don’t you wear your contacts? We spent all that money on them.’

Well, mother, they make my eyes burn.

Like everything else, you keep the gripe inside. She never cares when you do speak up. Only your sisters care and they’re just as powerless as you.

Some might say you’re spoiled. Ungrateful, even. Look at what you were born into. Not everyone has a nice house and fancy cars and sprawling lawns. Oh, and don’t forget that title. You have one of those too. Well, no one ever asked you if you want all that. They just put the mantle on your shoulders so you could stagger under its weight.

The familiar lurch of the front gates draws you from your spite. You dread that sound more than anything. It means there’s a guest and you were never one for people.

You duck to see through the leaves and watch the car roll through the gates. The older model is painted a shade of robin’s egg that sticks out even at a distance. You sit up and check your watch. It’s very early still, yet, you don’t have much time at all. Not as it keeps on rolling by.

You tuck your book in your sweater and tuck in the hem to keep it from slipping. You turn to scale down the trunk, careful as you lower yourself to the next branch and the next, before gently dropping into the grass. You stand and adjust your glasses as you try to track the vehicle’s advance towards the house.

You hug your book through the wool of your sweater and sprint across the lawn. You stay behind the hedges and the spiked shrubs around the front of the house. You duck behind the plinth that holds a full-bellied vase of lilies.

You peek out from behind the stone as you watch the blond man step out of the car. He peers up at the facade as he shades his gaze from the sunlight. It’s a nice day for the worst of your life.

He’s tall and his golden hair has a subtle wave, even combed back neatly. He wears a brown suit with a plaid pattern in a tan tint, and he stands with fearless determination. He measures the house. He does not see a future wife, he sees the riches waiting.

You skirt around behind the greenery and enter through the side door before you can be spotted. The hubbub of the cooks and the maids overshadows your covert quest. Even as the second-born daughter of a prestigious family, you go unnoticed. You scurry up your stairs as your father’s voice booms from behind you. He isn’t calling for you, he never does.

You hurry down the hallway and the book slips from your sweater as the bottom pulls loose from your waistband. You push your glasses up into your hair as they slip down your nose. You catch the novel and press it under your arm as you charge towards Chicky’s door. You let yourself in without knocking, breathless as you slam yourself against the other side.

Your sisters turn to you in surprise, your own must be just as plain. You only expected one, not both.

“I saw one,” you blurt out.

“Saw one?” Chicky, your younger sister, repeats back.

You shush her and storm away from the door.

“He’s tall. Blond. Look.” You point to the window, hoping he has yet to breach the walls.

Your sisters glance at each other then behind them. Chicky stands and she goes with Kestral to look. You hover near the vanity and glance your reflection. Oh, you are a mess. You pull a leaf from your hair and glower. And you are to meet your betrothed today?

“Oh, wow, that is typical,” Kestral sneers. “An antique car. Well, Wren, you should hope he’s yours then. By the looks of it, he’ll spend more time with that beast than you.”

You squeak and shake your head, swaying on your feet so you almost topple. The thought makes your stomach bubble. You scrunch up your face and put your book again your chest.

“Mm, he has manners. He is chatting rather intently with Reginald.” Kestral says.

You frown at the mention of the valet. He is so nosy.

“Yes, Reginald can be rather chatty,” you mutter. Chicky tilts coyly. You’re not sure why.

“Well, Kes,” Chicky says as she turns to you, “you said you asked around. What did you hear?”

The question makes your heart knot even if you are just as curious, though rather scared, to hear the answer.

“Like I said, gossip is rarely useful.” Kestral gives a long sigh. “Mine, Conrad… he’s not much history in ‘society’,” she gives a lilt to the words with a gesture, “from what I’ve gathered, he comes from a well to do family. I heard more of his brother than him. Frustratingly mysterious.”

She sounds as aggravated as her words suggest. She sits on the bed with folded arms. “then there’s Laufeyson,” the name sends a shiver through you. You remember when you first heard it spoke. Your father’s demands echo in your head. ‘You will do as I bid.’ As ever father.

“He does have quite the reputation,” she continues. “A tricky man. I’m not entirely sure why mother and father chose him but no offense, Wrenny, you are a middle child.”

You blink dolefully, “Mm, I’d say better than no one but no one sounds rather nice.”

Chicky giggles. She always finds things so funny. You wish you could be like her. That anything could make you so happy.

“And me?” your younger sister prompts.

“Pine, proper gentleman by my measure. Never as toe out of line. No mystery. No scandal. He sounds like he was created in a factory.”

“Boring?” Chicky wonders.

It’s all boring and it’s all terrifying. You trace the edge of the book with your fingernail and rock. Their voices haze together as you try to imagine what your life will be. It’s right there, closer by the minute, but you just can’t imagine it. You can’t imagine the man who you’ll spend your life with.

You squeak at the very thought of him seeing you. What will he think? And after that? You’re expected to… to… oh my. No, you could never.

“Wren,” Kestral’s voice snaps you back, “you can take all your book and add a thousand more to your shelves. You could build yourself a castle and lock yourself away to read forever. And Chicky, you just be you. Go out shooting or dancing or shopping. As long as our duty is met, we will be free. Truly. No more mother, no more father. We will laugh in their faces and say ‘no’.”

“I hope you’re right,” Chicky speaks your thoughts aloud.

You don’t believe she is right, though. You don’t see it happening. As much as you would love to build a little hermitage, you don’t think any husband will stand for that. Even if your father would rather swallow glass than spend time alone with your mother, they still make their appearances. Together.

“So, Wren, you look ready to meet your beloved,” Kestral teases.

You blanch, “oh. Sorry. I... was reading.”

“You? Reading?” She chuckles. “I’m only kidding. But if you want me to work on your hair, I think I might have you looking a kitten rather than a lion.”

“Hm, yes, maybe,” your brow spasms again and you nearly slap your glasses off trying to stop it.

“What are you wearing then?” Chicky asks.

“Um, clothes. Er. They’re in my room,” you shrug.

“Well, yes, I would hope,” she smirks.

“Sorry,” you apologise again.

“I’ve got to fetch my dress, might I get yours as well?” Kestral offers as she stands.

You shake your head, “that’s fine. I’ll... I’ll figure it out on my own.”

You turn for the door and she calls after you again, “we’re your sisters, you know? If you need anything... well, we’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“Sure, uh, yes,” you murmur over your shoulder as you clasp the door handle. “See you at dinner.”

“See you...” Kestral drones in disappointment as Chicky clucks.

You inch open the door and peek out before you plunge into the hallway. You hurry down to your room and hide inside. You just need time to think. Get yourself straight.

You check the mirror on the wall. Ugh! Your hair. Your face. Your everything.

You go into the en suite bathroom and rinse your face. You moisturise with the tinted lotion Kestral gifted you and scrape your lashes with mascara. Ugh. You hate painting yourself up like a doll. So you keep it minimal; lotion, lashes, lips.

You pop back into your room and pull out your chosen attire. Your mother approved after you moped her into submission. All the dresses she showed you had you turning your shoulder to you. She finally relented and let you choose something less... risque.

The pattern of the silk reminds you of an empress you read about. The blue and gold pair well and the red patches add some depth. The pantsuit is as comfortable as you’ll be given the circumstances.

You’re not like Kestral. You can’t pull off elegance, and you’re far from cute, like Chicky. You’re just yourself. That fact is not a happy one for your parents. You’re not sure it’ll be any more endearing to the stranger you’ll call your husband.

You put it on and tie up the belt. You have some bronze heels to match and a satin band to try to rein in your hair. The sapphire on the headband adds a touch of shine to appease your mother. When you look at yourself all done up, you’re still not ready.

You wonder if that blond man is the one you’re expected to wed. The very thought makes you sick to your stomach. He doesn’t look like a good match. He’s too suave, too handsome, too pristine. Well, no aristocratic gentleman would present himself otherwise.

You retreat from your reflection and sit at your desk. You stare at the book, mourning it like a friend. You aren’t naive or foolish, though many people assume that you are. A marriage means you won’t be alone. You won’t be able to just sit and read and hide away from the world.

Your mother might be demanding but you expect nothing less than a tyrant to replace her. By your father’s foreboding, any husband would be right to put you in your place. Based on how disappointed your own parents are, you can’t imagine someone without any familial obligation will be any less disillusioned.

You bend forward and rest your forehead on the book. It’s not just all those fictional companions you’ll lose. It’s your sisters. They speak as if it will all be as it is, just with some new faces. You know better than that. You’ve read enough stories of strained arrangements and reluctant pairings, but this is no fairytale. You will have no happily ever after.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #series #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #precarious #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor #three sisters for three misters

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comatosebunny09 · 10 months ago

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You spent your days following the fall of the Nether Brain with him, tucked away in the Underdark as he cared for his siblings and the other spawn without a single complaint.

However, the lack of sun and isolation eventually took its toll on you. Astarion sensed it each day, your desire to return to the world above, even if you never vocalized it. He knew it was inevitable. So he urged you to return to Baldur’s Gate with a forlorn smile and a reassuring squeeze to your hands. He promised to visit you when he could—which you later discovered would never be.

You spent the day before you reluctantly left him holed up in his quarters, making love. Kissing. Holding each other. Crying as if you’d never see him again—he called you the biggest baby as he kissed your tears away and masked his own sadness with a laugh.

A humble home awaited you in the city. A gift for saving the world. It was beautiful, spacious, and lonely.

You busied yourself as best you could. Planted flowers, mended clothing for coin, crafted potions, and cooked meals to keep your hands occupied. Your companions visited you from time to time, somewhat lifting your spirits. You talked to Astarion every night via spells that allowed you to speak over great distances.

He seemed to be holding up well. Keeping the spawn from tearing into each other was quite a feat. But the impending solitude sat in the backs of your minds heavy like storm clouds. And it would always claw at your gut when you lay in bed each night, curling into the fetal position as you clutched the cold, unoccupied side of your bed, sinking into a fitful slumber.

You missed him. Dearly. And he missed you.

Months eased by. Eventually, you lapsed into a rhythm. Wake up. Clean. Entertain guests. Wander the city. Hunt evildoers. Venture home to tend to your gardens and lose yourself in a book. Catch up with your beloved. It was comfortable. It was humble, but it was what you grew accustomed to, and the loneliness became a little easier to curb.

A knock at your door jolted you from your sleep one rainy evening. You wandered out of your bedroom to open it, pulling your robe around you tightly. You were pleasantly greeted by a familiar shock of white curls and crimson eyes as he leaned against the doorframe, soaked to the bone. Your heart nearly leaped from your chest.

“Hello, Beastie,” he whisper-purred, that customary smile on his lips turning your heart to mush.

There was no need for words. No space for the awkwardness of formalities.

You crashed into each other, hands wandering, mouths messily fusing together as he backed you into your home. Clothes gathered in a serpentine pile around your feet, and he hefted you into his arms to walk you into your bedroom as your fingers tore through the riot of his hair, and you groaned in tandem.

He made love to you until morning crept over the city. And even after the beginnings of it filtered through your curtains, he didn’t stop until you asked him to.

He alternated between slow and meticulous, and hot and rough. Your headboard knocked against the wall, and your bed threatened to collapse beneath you. Scratch marks littered his back. In exchange, he adorned your body with love bites and pretty splotches of blue. You could barely stand by the end of it, limping around your room to shutter the windows so your beloved wouldn’t get burned by the sun.

You spent the day shacked up in your bedroom, cuddling, talking, and getting lost in the feel of each other’s bodies once more. When you asked what brought him back to the surface, he reasoned his siblings could manage the other spawn just fine. He needed you. Craved you each night, his chest growing hollower each day he spent without the feel of your hand in his.

Your body swelled with emotion. Even if it meant making some provisions around the house and to your lifestyle to accommodate your love, you were more than thrilled to live out the rest of your days with him beside you.

Your days together were spent in domestic bliss thereafter.

And each surface of your home was well-acquainted with your body. Not a table, counter, seat, or wall lie unscathed.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion fluff #astarion smut #astarion drabble

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fiercynn · 1 year ago

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palestinian poets: rasha abdulhadi

rasha abdulhadi is a queer palestinian southerner with long covid who cut their teeth organizing on the southsides of chicago and atlanta. rasha's writing has appeared in speculative city, liminality, strange horizons, shade journal, mizna, room, itap| magazine, beltway poetry, and lambda literary. their work is anthologized in essential voices: a COVID-19 anthology, unfettered hexes, halal if you hear me, stoked words, and luminescent threads: connections to octavia butler. rasha is a member of justice for muslims collective, the radius of arab american writers, and alternate ROOTS. their small book of poetry is WHO IS OWED SPRINGTIME (neon hemlock press). you can find rasha on twitter.

RASHA'S CALL TO ACTION

"rasha abdulhadi is calling on you, dear reader, to join them in refusing and resisting the genocide of the palestinian people. wherever you are, whatever sand you can throw on the gears of genocide, do it now. if it's a handful, throw it. if it's a fingernail full, scrape it out and throw. get in the way however you can. the elimination of the palestinian people is not inevitable. we can refuse with our every breath and action. we must."

IF YOU READ JUST ONE POEM BY RASHA ABDULHADI, MAKE IT THIS ONE

"Casting Runes" was originally published by fiyah literary magazine in the palestine special issue, which was curated, edited, illustrated and comprised entirely of palestinian creators, in december 2021. the collection was edited by guests nadia shammas and summer farah, and featured cover art by leila aboutaleb.

if you have the means, you can purchase the e-book of the fiyah lit palestine special issue for USD $5.99, the proceeds of which go to medical aid for palestinians.

OTHER POEMS ONLINE THAT I LOVE BY RASHA ABDULHADI

Rabbits at lambda literary

Picking up Rocks at split this rock (also read aloud)

Dad's Combs at beltway poetry

Table of Contents for a Manual of Pandemic Response Protocols at poetry.onl (also read aloud)

Safe Harbor in Enemy Homes at get lit anthology

Build the Graves at the deadlands

How to Build a Dad Out of Bricks at electric lit

#poetry #rasha abdulhadi #queer poetry #free palestine #palestinian poets series

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avocado-writing · 8 months ago

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Today is my birthday, so I was wondering what would each party member from BG3 do for your birthday?Maybe a little nsfw afterwards?😏

Astarion

probably takes you out shopping! do not ask where he got the money to do this from, you don't want to know the answer. it probably wasn't earned honestly. but he's still happy to drop a small fortune on you, dressing you up in lots of lovely clothes and jewellery, taking you for lunch at the nicest place in Baldur's Gate. he doesn't eat of course, but you can tell how pleased he is just watching you enjoy little sandwiches and delicious slices of cake. he spears jam and sponge on the fork and feeds it to you sensually, eyes flashing with delight as he sees the way you lick your lips for him.

he cannot even wait to get you back to somewhere private. you abscond behind the cafe and he has you up against the wall. the stonework digs into your back delightfully as your legs wrap around his waist, he fucks into you so enthusiastically that he has to smother your moans with his hand so that you don't get caught. he whispers dirty things into your ear the whole time. but the day finishes with you watching the sunset together. he loves how you look, bathed in orange light. you'd love for this day to last a lifetime.

Gale

plans a very elaborate birthday meal which he invites all of your friends to. he is prepping for days in advance, finding out all of your favourite dishes and working on perfecting each one of them (tara keeps you distracted so that you don't catch on...) on the day, he buys you a lot of books for presents, ones he heard you mention wanting to read ages ago and kept in his mind for a special occasion. you feel thoroughly spoiled by all of the effort that he's put in, the the birthday cake he baked you is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

that night, when the guests have finally left, he probably has something a bit kinky planned, maybe something you've wanted to explore with him for a while. perhaps it's a... creative use of evard's black tentacles, or a magic double of himself to join in the fun, one thing you can be sure of is that you're exhausted and very pleased by the end of the evening.

Wyll

if he's duke he plans a big celebration for you. dancing, feasting, musicians, all of your favourite things dialed up to 11, no expense spared. has a special outfit tailor-made for you in your favourite colour. you spend the whole evening with your favourite people and are constantly dancing with your beloved husband. he can't keep his hands off you, and as the two of you waltz, he keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ear... how lovely you look, how radiant you are, how he can't wait to get you alone later tonight... by the time the event winds down you're a total mess with the promise of him.

and he does not disappoint. he beds you in the most sensual way possible, ekeing out your pleasure for as long as he can. paying extra attention to you with his mouth and fingers, encouraging you to grab onto his horns in order to direct him where you want him. the whole time he praises everything about you, says how lucky he is, how he can't get enough of you. you have more orgasms that night than you've ever had before.

Karlach

if you're in hell, she does her best. maybe enlists your friends to help her organise something, getting you a load of presents. she knows she can't hold you some big party like you deserve. or maybe withers comes in clutch again! he and karlach plan a little get-together with your friends for you so that you can be surrounded with people you love. alternatively, if you're still in Baldur's Gate, she just makes a big list of all your favourite things and goes through them. probably would take you to a circus. to a fancy restaurant for dinner. maybe a picnic by the river, just the two of you watching the ducks? whatever she chooses it is perfect.

now, let's be real. she straps you down if you're into it. gets the biggest, most interesting dildo you've ever seen and milks orgasms out of you all night. you're a mewling, sweating mess by the time she's done with you. and gods, if you use it on her afterwards? (if you already have a dick, filling both her holes??) oh, she agrees it's the best birthday ever and it's not even hers.

Lae'zel

probably has to take her time planning, and swallowing her pride to ask the other companions what is best to do. githyanki don't really do birthdays. she has to go to great pains working out what you might like. in the end it's probably something like she sets up a little dinner for the two of you in a secluded spot looking over the city, where the two of you can be alone and unbothered by everyone harassing you. taking the weight of responsbility off of your shoulders for a brief time. she buys you a weapon, probably, a really good one, masterwork - something she had commissioned and was refining herself. it's the most thoughtful thing she's ever given anyone.

at night she takes you somewhere you can be alone. books out a room for the both of you at the inn, so you can make as much noise as you want. and you do. she plays your body like an instrument, and you come over and over again under her hands. she's smug afterwards, your pleasure begetting her own.

Shadowheart

she's probably not great at birthdays, as she wasn't encouraged to really celebrate them much as she grew up under Shar. she gently coaxes out of you what you might want to do to celebrate for months in advance and plans around that. maybe you go on a little wine-tasting course. or perhaps Baldur's Gate has a cat cafe, and the two of you spend the whole day there, just snuggling with kittens. perhaps you both get attached to one and decide to adopt it, too... what harm can more pets around do? she's constantly giving you little kisses and telling you she loves you, her cheeks pink and words sincere.

that night she's bought herself a set of lingerie in your favourite colour for you to enjoy, taking off each lacy item in a tease for you... or maybe leaving them on as you make love. she's got a couple of new toys to tease you with too, something magical perhaps, which really spices up the evening. you fall asleep in each other's arms either way, blissed out and happy.

taglist: @ghosti02art@sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13@trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling@wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @hopeful-n-sad

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disneyprincemuke · 11 months ago

Text

you make everyday feel like it's christmas

alternatively: logan is weirdly great at giving presents

in which logan surprises her in the morning with a throughtful second present

(series masterlist)

"merry christmas," is the first thing she hears when she opens her eyes. completely blinded by the sun shining into the bedroom oscar had prepared for them, she closes them immediately and turns to nuzzle her face into logan's bare arm.

"merry christmas," she manages to say, wrapping her arms around logan's arm. "good morning."

"are you awake?"

"yeah, i'm answering you."

"you wished me merry christmas an hour ago while you were asleep," logan grins, turning his body to throw his arms and legs around her body. "i bet you don't even remember that happening."

"you're right, actually. i'm sorry. i think the eggnog really got to me," she sighs, moving her face away from logan's shoulder. she lifts her head and grins, slowly opening her eyes. "good morning, my love."

"good morning!" he beams, leaning down to press a kiss on the tip of her nose. "when you're ready, i've got a present for you."

her eyes widen, lips quickly spreading into the biggest smile. "a present? i thought we already exchanged presents last night? oh, the eggnogs were pretty strong, i guess. i didn't even realise."

"we did." he picks at her hair slowly, pushing it behind her ear as he massages her head softly. "i've got another one for you. i was supposed to get you one gift-"

"yes, like we agreed on last christmas."

"yes," logan nods firmly, "like we agreed on. but, i really had to get you another one. you'll love it."

"babe, you say that every year," she whines, hands chasing for him as he tries to untangle himself from her grasp. "i do always end up loving it, sure, but we agreed no surprise gifts this year!"

"i do like spoiling you," logan answers simply, hunched over in the corner of the guest bedroom while he digs into his suitcase. "i would have given it to you last night, but oscar never would have let me live it down."

"logan, if you actually bit into my joke of giving me nude pictures in polaroid form, i might just book a flight back to the uk early."

"no, it's not that!" logan gasps, furrowing his eyebrows. "it's christmas - not your birthday!"

"logan!"

"okay, shut up," logan giggles, jogging back over to the bed with his hands behind his back. he hops onto the middle of the bed, sitting on his feet as he knelt in front of her.

she sits up slightly, pulling the blankets over her shoulder. "okay, what is it?"

"i've had it stored in my closet forever," he giggles, shuddering ever so slightly as he contains his excitement. "by forever, i mean since december started."

"how? i put clothes in your closet."

"my shoe box."

"your shoe box?"

"yeah, you don't really touch my shoe box often," logan stares at her blankly, hands still behind his back to keep the present from her prying eyes. "right. anyway."

"okay," she smiles, eyes glistening in curiosity. "anyway?"

"right. so you scored your first podium in formula 1 this year, right? in singapore and you were up there with carlos and lando and everything," logan grins, recounting the exciting weekend as if it had happened to him personally. "it took me a lot of convincing seb and your principal to get this."

"i don't suppose you have an entire tyre behind your back, do you?" she laughs, throwing her head back.

"no," logan says monotonously, tilting his head. "but you're close."

"what?"

"i," logan cuts himself off, rolling his eyes sheepishly and giggling softly. "it's kinda stupid. seb had to convince your team principal to let me have these, and i had to make a powerpoint - it was a whole thing."

"mind getting me where your mind's at, babe?" she smiles slightly, a hand reaching out to rub his arm for comfort.

"it's a little silly," he waves her concerns off with a lopsided grin on his face. he moves his arms to rest on his thighs, presenting her with a small box. "it's a lucky charm bracelet."

"a bracelet?"

"yeah. of every single time you made history this year," logan grins, slowly handing her the box. "basically, seb and i begged your team for a teenie-tiny amount of tyre residue after you'd cross the line. then ciara and i found someone to preserve them and carve them into the track layout."

she opens the box, and logan did not lie. a silver bracelet sits in the black velvet box, charms hanging off in the shape of tracks like australia and singapore. "oh?"

"and then we can add more every single time you change history in the sport," logan smiles sweetly, craning his neck to stare at his gift with her. "do you like it?"

"like it?" she coos, slowly taking the bracelet into her hands. it feels so delicate, almost like she doesn't even want to wear it in fear of potentially losing or damaging it beyond repair. "logan, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone's ever gotten me. i love it."

"seriously? i thought it was a bit corny," logan presses his lips together as his cheeks turn a deep shade of red. "and kinda gross - it's tire residue mixed with gravel and heat and- well, you know."

"logan, i love it," she smiles, tracing the charms with her nail. "this is so sweet. suddenly, the custom shoes i'd gotten you didn't seem so special and thoughtful. thank you so much. i wish i could get you something as significant as this."

he frowns, squeezing her cheeks. "i got you this because you deserve it. thank you for letting me be a part of everything you're changing with the sport."

"thank you, seriously. i love you," she cries, frowning when logan takes it from her hands. she tears up as logan fastens it around her wrist gently, adjusting it for her. "i'm scared. what if this gets lost?"

"blythe thought you might say that." he wipes her tear-stained cheek as he presses a kiss to her forehead. "i've got an extra of the entire thing back in the uk. so, don't even worry about it."

she blinks blankly, looking up at him before glancing down at her wrist once more. she looks back up at him. "this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"what can i say? you deserve the best," logan shrugs, dimples showing before his smile. "the world, even. i love you."

she wraps an arm around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her as she catches his lips into hers. she sighs against his lips, slowly dropping herself back into bed while pulling logan down with her. he has a hand on her back, supporting her weight while she lowers, inching up to adjust to where her lips are.

"we don't have to be ready for brunch for another," she pulls away, reaching over to the bedside table to tap on her phone, "30 minutes. stay in bed a while?"

taglist: @myxticmoon

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial

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agroteraa · 9 months ago

Text

Watermelon Sugar

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: Just a slice of hot summer in Saltburn.

Actaeon series spin-off, taking place between Artemis and The Wrath of the Stag.

Warnings: smut, fingering, handjob, finger sucking.

Word Count: 3,2K

Almost two weeks had passed after the karaoke night events. It was a sultry August noon, and you were reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by the pool. You were lying on your stomach on a lounger, dangling your feet in the air and eating triangularly sliced pieces of watermelon. Time seemed to freeze and melt in this heat, and at that moment it felt like that summer would never end. That would be perfect.

Oliver sauntered over to the pool, topless, his T-shirt on his shoulders. There you were.

You were so engrossed in reading that you didn't hear him approach. Besides, he came unnoticed. As always.

Your legs swung back and forth in the air alternately exposing your buttocks, slightly peeking out of your colorful swimsuit.

Oliver swallowed involuntarily. He leaned against the nearest wall, clutching the ends of his blue T-shirt tightly in his hands. He loved every inch of your body, but he was already beginning to realize that your ass was especially driving him crazy. He was a booty man and never missed a chance to put his hand on top, squeeze or kiss it. Or better to do everything at once. And sometimes even give it a little slap. He was thinking more and more often that maybe he should try to go a little bit further with that and see your reaction. At that thought, he shifted against the warm rough bricks of the wall, tugging the ends of his cloth tighter.

God, if only he could have his way with you just right there, by the pool. Sit down next to you, give you a little massage, and then... take you as he wished it and as you wished it too. On a lounger, by the pool, in the water, or better yet, all in turn. And so that all the inhabitants of Saltburn, its guests and servants could hear how much pleasure Oliver was bringing you. But alas, this was not his home. At least for now, he had not yet fully decided on this issue for himself.

His body began aching numbly, and, unable to just stand and think all these thoughts anymore, Oliver finally decided to declare his presence.

"Hey, Y/N, do you mind if I lie down next to you?"

"Oliver... Didn't hear you coming!" you abruptly turned over on the sunbed, with a piece of watermelon in one hand and a book in the other. Watermelon juice began to flow slightly down your hand, you put a piece of watermelon on a plate, quickly licking the remaining juice from your hand and wiping against your leg. Oliver carefully followed all these movements with the silent gaze. You lifted your sunglasses, greeting him with warmth in your eyes. Oliver couldn't help but smile back.

"I think I left my book here yesterday," Quick went to the far little table to get his belonging, and then laid down on the next lounger from you.

"Oh, you’ve started a new one?"

"Yeah," he confirmed absent-mindedly, opening it and searching for the place where he had left off the previous time. It seemed that Oliver was not just reading books, but devouring them for lunch.

"Huh, I'm still reading Harry Potter..." your voice became a little sad and thoughtful. Of course, you also read a lot of things during your studies, but still not all of them from the list, and during the summer break you preferred to distract yourself with something lighter, almost childish even. While Oliver read one big serious book after another, also he had recently read Harry Potter in less than a week to be aware of what you were all constantly talking about, discussing the plot, "How you’re doing that?"

"Well, you take the book, open it... and then you start to look at the lines of letters that add up to meaningful words and sentences," Oliver explained in a serious tone, barely hiding his smile.

You snickered back, "Should’ve known that sooner!"

He chuckled, and you both went deep into reading your stuff. After a couple of minutes, your smile faded again.

"What is it, Y/N?" it seemed that nothing could be hidden from Oliver. You decided to tell him as it was, choosing the words and overcoming some embarrassment, "I just... I don't know. You read so much, and in general, you’ve achieved everything yourself at Oxford, including entering it. Well, of course, me too... Kinda... But still, it seems that you do more and work harder than I do. Even the way you read in your free time. I've been reading Harry Potter for the second month now. Of course, I'm just enjoying it, stretching the pleasure, it's also important, you know... But anyway, I'm not like you, I wish I could be you in certain way..."

Oliver listened to your mumbling until his eyebrows began to rise and warm smile appeared on his face.

"Y/N. You're not like me, and that's why I like you," Oliver said tenderly.

"And you don't even know how much," he added mentally. You could think that he would judge by your close communication over the past couple of weeks, or at least since the beginning of the summer, but he has already studied you very well since your meeting at Oxford. You were kind, you were kind to him, especially when you comforted him the day he told Felix and you about his family and the whole "father situation". Yes, not at all as interested as you were now, but it was only a matter of time, Oliver had been hoping for this from the very beginning. Yes, you were much kinder than him. Basically, this reason alone possibly could have been enough, but he did not deny himself the pleasure of mentally going over the rest of your qualities, which were different from his own.

You were open and generous, you were similar to Felix here, but unlike him, you were more modest and even a bit shy. And, of course, you were smart, although sometimes very naive. But for Oliver, it wasn't a flaw, he adored your naivety and innocence.

That trick with Felix's towels and your little lie about the malfunction of the second bathroom, he totally forgave and recorded it as a childish prank. He decided that it even amused and touched him, the way you childishly decided to take the initiative and allegedly outwit Quick.

He felt like a tiger that a little kitten had tried to hunt. The tiger that laid calmly next to the kitten and smiled lazily, waving his tail, which the little hunter was trying to catch. Oliver smiled lazily at the thought himself and decided that someday he even wouldn't mind if you tried to repeat such an innocent prank. And he would think about what he would do to you after that.

You were never capable of even a small part of what he was willing to do and had done in life to achieve his goals, to the extent that you would never have thought of such a thing. That was also why he had chosen you. You didn't have to be power hungry like him. On the contrary, it would be more than enough for him if you were hungry only for your rather harmless aspirations and, of course, for Oliver himself.

You were quite a complete and content person on your own, and this was very attractive to the many-faced Oliver, who was still struggling to find a place for himself in this life. But he had found his place beside you and planned to stay there for a long time, ideally, forever.

And of course, he adored the power he had over you, the way you looked at him trustingly and fascinated whenever he told you something. The way you looked away shyly when he gazed at you too intensely at breakfasts or dinners. The way you looked at him with your doe eyes, lying under him in bed, as if bewitched. The way he made you feel. Moan. Dig your fingers and nails deeper into his skin. Throw your head back with pleasure. Say his name. And generally, the fact that his name was coming out from your lips. Wheresoever. All the time.

And if only you knew what kind of power you have over him yourself. It seemed that even Oliver himself sometimes did not fully comprehend this, but he definitely felt it on a subconscious, instinctive level. He felt boundless joy, excitement and pride that the object of his adoration finally adored him. If there was a happiness, which Oliver sometimes looked for confirmation of in the philosophical books that he read, then it definitely laid in this for him.

He wanted a lot from you, it was true, but in return he was ready to throw the whole world at your feet and even more.

You were smiling sheepishly, still processing his words. The sunglasses on your face had slipped down slightly, revealing your equally embarrassed, but gentle and expressive gaze to him. He reached out to you, leaning on your lounger with one hand, and gently kissed you on the lips. The book in your hands trembled a little.

"It seems it’s getting too hot in here. I'm going to take a dip," Quick winked at you, got up from his sunbed and walked to the edge of the pool. Spreading his shoulder blades on his broad, muscular back, he stood on tiptoe a little and made a rather graceful leap into the water. To be honest, for a while you forgot about the adventures of young wizards, all your thoughts were now occupied by Oliver and how he swam in the water, making wide strokes with his fit arms. You even thought about joining in, but he came out of the water pretty quickly and flopped down on his lounger with his stomach down, exhaling contentedly.

You looked at him through your glasses. Drops of water trickled down his body that was heating up, repeating the contour of his every lean muscle, his dark slightly curly hair turned into wet, completely black strands. Then he turned over, exposing his face, glistening from the water, to the hot sun. He had just cooled off in the pool, but he looked damn hot. He was like an animated marble statue basking in the August sun on a lounger next to you. You inhaled the warm sticky air sharply but quietly, deciding to focus on reading. Oliver chuckled faintly, without opening his eyes. Surely, he couldn't know how you stared at him through your black sunglasses. Or could he? You weren't sure anymore.

Finally, really deep into reading, you took another piece of watermelon and began to eat it with appetite. The watermelon was juicy, so it started running down your chin and then down the hand that was holding it. You put down the book and reached for a napkin, when suddenly you heard a slightly hoarse "Let me." Looking in surprise to the side, you found that Oliver was shamelessly examining you, lying on his side, and, apparently, for some time. His unblinking gaze and slightly parted lips turned something in your stomach. His chest rose and fell noticeably from his rather heavy breathing.

He gently took your hand by the wrist and then slowly ran his tongue over it, climbing up the palm and licking the watermelon juice from it. A familiar knot started to form in your stomach. Oliver took turns taking your fingers into his mouth. Thumb. His lips were very tender. He pulled your completely clean finger out of his mouth with a smacking sound. Index finger. His lips were soft but at the same time firm. He started looking you straight in the eye.

Middle finger. You felt his soft, hot tongue against your skin. Ring finger. God, he started to lick and suck your fingers lightly at the same time. Pinkie. You were already burning down there, as you shifted your gaze from to the place where your fingers met Oliver's caressing mouth, to his piercing blue eyes, which looked at you from under their black eyelashes, almost without blinking.

He had never done this before, but now you didn't understand how you had lived without that feeling all this time. You wanted to eat a watermelon sloppily every day so that he would do this. Seeing how much you liked it, how you started fidgeting your legs on the sunbed, he once again ran his lips over your middle and index fingers, sucking them both at the same time. You let out a soft moan. Oliver smiled contentedly, closing his eyes and enjoying the process. You opened your lips in a silent exhale, looking at the guy, unable to tear yourself away from this sight. There was already a fire raging in the pit of your stomach and below.

Taking your fingers out of his mouth, he briefly kissed your palm, and then threw one of his hands over your body, leaning on your lounger. It made an surprised squeak at the presence of a guest. His heated by the sun metal chain hung, almost touching your lips. You even had the thought of taking it in your mouth. You gulped.

"Do you know, Y/N, how sweet you are? And right now, literally," Oliver put his face close to your chin and licked off the remnants of watermelon juice. Moving his tongue higher, he licked the contour of your lips. You could barely lie still, but at the same time you seemed frozen by everything that was happening now. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth, letting out a soft groan. The sweetness of the watermelon and your tongues mixed in your mouth, making your head spin. His wet and sticky lips caressed your lips, making some breaths and moans. He almost completely rolled over with his body on your lounger. The hotness of the sun and Oliver's hotness almost drove you to sunstroke. You could feel the firmness of his body and the way his swim trunks were getting tighter by the second. It was almost unbearable.

You broke off the kiss while recovering your breath. Oliver was looking at you, unsure of what to do next. More precisely, he knew exactly what he wanted, but he couldn't afford it right now, so his brain was quickly calculating all possible options.

"Shall we go for a dip together?" you nodded affirmatively at his suggestion. Getting up from the sunbed, he took you by both hands and led you to the edge of the pool.

"Together" means "to the very end," he smirked, and without letting go of your hands, he took a step back, plunging into the pool. You squeaked as you flew after him. In the water, Oliver's strong arms caught you and spun you around a little right under the water. You let out a laugh, releasing a few bubbles instead of "ha-ha."

Then you surfaced, and Quick pinned you between his muscular arms at the edge of the pool. There you both reached the bottom with your feet there, and you were pressed closer to the cool wall of the pool. It was a pleasant contrast between this and Oliver's body, which was even somehow hotter in the water.

"And what I am to do with you? With you, lying in your swimsuit in the sun, enjoying yourself so much and eating watermelon so seductively all the damn day. It's impossible to look at it and just put up with it," Oliver said, kissing you again passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs began to wrap around his pelvis. You felt his boner with your crotch even in the water. He hissed faintly. You involuntarily began to rub and cling to him even more, feeling the literal fire under the water down there.

"Don't tempt me any more," he whispered against your lips, "Or else..."

One of his hands went deeper under the water, his fingers parted the fabric of your bikini to the side. Soon you felt his fingers inside you. The feeling in the water was slightly unusual, but you liked it. Oliver was slowly caressing you, and you tilted your head back a bit, unable to figure out where the wetness of the pool ended and your own begun. Oliver was moaning softly near your ear, and you could barely contain your loud moans. His fingers worked so well inside you that it felt like the entire pool was filled exclusively with your moisture.

You snuggled closer to the guy, and he started kissing your neck, which made your body cover in goosebumps. Then he slipped his other hand into your swimsuit and squeezed one breast. You let out a groan. Oliver added another finger, your legs curled around him, you wanted to moan at the top of your voice, but you were afraid that someone might come up at any moment and see what you two were doing here. The mixture of fear of being caught and wild excitement made brought you to the peak much faster than you expected.

"Is my girl done much faster today?" Oliver asked innocently, stroking your waist, "Admit it, it’s rather turning on. The probability of being caught. You feel it too, don't you? Oh, yes, you do understand me..."

Oliver slightly narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. He really liked the fact that you were different, but he was even more pleased with the moments where your morality and your desires sometimes converged at the same one ambiguous point.

He grinned contentedly when you, nodding slightly and biting your lip, a little timidly reached for his swim trunks with your hands. He exhaled sharply when you felt his bump and ran your soft hand up and down his hard cock several times. The movements of your hand in the water felt like in a slow motion. Oliver half-closed his eyes, holding onto the sides of the pool, and hissed, "Yes, my sweet Y/N, that's it, don't stop… Wait."

He recoiled a little from you, you involuntarily turned around, following his frowning gaze. Felix. He was walking to the pool in sunglasses, wearing a yellow shirt and swimming trunks, carrying a towel and some drink in a can. You laughed awkwardly and embarrassedly while Oliver was rather tense and very displeased. But he forced himself to distract himself, for your sake and for Felix too.

"Hi guys! How long have you been... Hey-y, did I interrupt something?" Catton Jr. asked rather jokingly, seeing you laughing in the pool, but he still tensed a little from the proximity of your distance.

"No, we just came in, join us!" Oliver shouted cheerfully, dispelling the guy's suspicions. At least, most of them.

While Felix was undressing and putting his things on his lounger, you looked pointedly at Oliver and sighed quietly, pursing your lips. Quick blinked slowly in response and nodded slightly, assuring you that way that your fun would definitely continue soon, and no one would dare to interrupt you next time.

But still, Oliver thought to himself, he would have to ponder again all the options for how to make sure that you wouldn't be disturbed inside and outside this house, not only for the next time, but preferably never again.

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clarisse0o · 3 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 38

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Friday, January 15th; 5:00 PM - Lucy's Apartment

We’ve just arrived safely at Lucy’s apartment. I drove well, but I noticed Lucy seemed relieved to arrive at her private parking lot. On the way, I felt my new phone vibrate. Lucy had to dig into my pocket to answer it. It was obvious it was one of the girls since I had just changed everything. It was Mapi, letting us know that they were out shopping for tonight’s gathering. To my surprise, Lucy only asked them not to overdo it with the shopping. I didn’t say anything, but I’m worried Lucy doesn’t know who she’s entrusted with this task. I hope Ingrid can restrain my best friend's impulses. She tends to go overboard with things she shouldn't, like alcohol. While they were gone, we took the opportunity to bring up all the stuff from the car. I brought my suitcase and Mapi's into the guest room since we're going to share it. When everything was sorted, I joined Lucy, who had settled on the couch. She was engrossed in a book, leaving me free to watch whatever I wanted on TV. Her mood had slightly calmed down, which reassured me. I still have no idea what came over her earlier. It was the first time she had expressed her bad mood so clearly, and I’m not used to it.

The minutes ticked by, but the girls still hadn’t arrived. Lucy didn’t seem worried, unlike me. Plus, I couldn’t find anything interesting on TV and was starting to get bored.

"Hey, Luce?"

"Hmm?"

"I still need to put the tempered glass on my phone. Can you do it for me? I can never get it right."

"If you want. Grab it, and I’ll do it."

I smiled and quickly went to get it. I had left the bag on the desk in my room. When I returned, her book was on the coffee table, and she was waiting patiently. I handed everything to her and sat back down. She laid everything out on the table and began cleaning my phone. Then she pulled out the glass and paused to look at me.

"Do you want the glass to be crooked or with bubbles?"

"What? No, why?"

"Then could you please move away from me? You’re distracting me."

"Sorry," I mumbled, sinking into the couch. "It would just be payback. You distracted me at the store."

"That’s different," she smiled. "That was just for fun. Plus, you have something to lose here."

"For fun?" I teased, crossing my arms. "If you say so."

She said nothing more and focused on applying the screen protector with great concentration. I watched her work from a distance, and she quickly finished, checking my phone afterward. She finally handed it back to me with a proud smile.

"There you go, princess. It’s done, and with no defects."

"Thanks."

I kissed her cheek to accompany my words and then opened one of my social media apps. I hadn’t done that in ages. The strange thing is, I didn’t even miss it. Ever since I’ve been at school, it’s like I’ve been disconnected.

"Hey, I didn’t let you get a new phone so you could spend all your time on it."

"You sound like my mom. And in case you're wondering, that’s not a compliment."

"No, it’s not, but that doesn’t stop me from forbidding it."

"Oh, come on," I rolled my eyes. "Let me at least check what’s happening on my social media, and I’ll stop afterward."

"Hmm... Can I see too?"

I nodded, seeing no reason to refuse. As I kept my eyes glued to the screen, she caught me off guard by lying down, pulling me down with her. A small yelp escaped my mouth as she laughed in my ear. I didn’t dare move, given our position.

"Sorry, I’m really exhausted and needed to lie down," she confessed. "You can get up if I’m bothering you, or you can stay and be my pillow."

"You just surprised me, that’s all," I replied. "I just need to lie down better if you want me to stay."

Without saying a word, she sat up so I could get comfortable. I took the chance to put a pillow behind my head. Then, she let herself fall back, wrapping her arms around me. She seemed to need affection, judging by how she held me. I wasn’t about to refuse, especially since she’d been giving me all the affection I’ve needed these past few days. I started stroking her back with one hand while scrolling through my Twitter feed with the other. She sighed at my touch, seeming to enjoy it. We stayed like that for a while, to the point where I didn’t even dare move. It had been a long time since I’d ended up in such an intimate position with someone.

Eventually, I dared to glance at her. Her eyes were closed, and her body was rising and falling slowly with each breath. I quickly realized she had fallen asleep. I bit my lip, noticing that I’d forgotten the remote at our feet. I tried to move slowly, but I immediately stopped when I heard her groan and felt her head burrow into my neck. I stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. It’s my fault she’s sleep-deprived, so I should let her rest. To pass the time, I looked for games to download on my phone. Minutes passed, but I did nothing but play. I appreciated being so close, so I decided to enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted half an hour later when the doorbell rang. I panicked as I heard her groan.

"Damn, they’re so annoying," she muttered in a raspy voice.

I removed my hand from her back as she propped herself up on her elbows. Our eyes met for a moment, but Lucy quickly stood up when she realized our position. She suddenly seemed almost embarrassed, but she didn’t say anything. She just walked over to the intercom as the doorbell continued to ring insistently. She immediately pressed the button to silence it. I stifled a laugh when I heard Mapi ask if she had missed her. Lucy didn’t even bother to reply and pressed another button, rolling her eyes.

"If you don’t calm her down, there will be a murder tonight."

"She’s just teasing you," I giggled. "I promise she’s not usually this bad."

"I could’ve done without it. Anyway, do you want something to drink?"

"I’d like some iced tea if you have any."

"I think I can find some."

She left the front door slightly open before heading to the kitchen. I decided to follow her and sat on one of the bar stools while she filled our glasses. Just as I took a sip, the door flew open, and Ingrid and Mapi entered with two huge shopping bags. It’s obvious Mapi’s bag was full of alcohol bottles. They clinked loudly when she dropped it in the middle of the living room.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "What kind of sick apartment is this?!" she finally exclaimed.

"Don’t start yelling. I have neighbors, remember?" Lucy grumbled.

Mapi didn’t seem bothered by Lucy’s remark. She simply placed her bag on the table next to Ingrid’s, all the while looking around with admiration. Lucy took the opportunity to check their purchases.

"Good thing I told you not to go overboard. How many bottles of alcohol did you buy?"

"A few. We couldn’t agree on the choices!" Mapi dared to respond.

"I’m warning you, the first one to puke on my floor will be cleaning it up, no matter what state you’re in."

"No one’s forcing anyone to drink."

"Don’t try that on me, Mapi. I’ve figured out what kind of person you are."

"If you say so," she laughed.

It’s a good thing Lucy was never aware of my high school parties. She would’ve realized how much Mapi pushed me more than she thought, and she would’ve never allowed me to hang out with her.

"Can I give her a tour?" I suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, very good idea," the apartment owner replied.

I left everything behind and led Mapi down the hallway. I made sure to close the double doors and move away. I’m not sure what’s going on between them, but there’s definitely some tension on Lucy’s side. I’ll take the chance to clear things up with Mapi, who doesn’t seem interested in making an effort either.

"Is she like this all the time?" Mapi asked me.

"No, she’s just sleep-deprived because of me, and it seems like she doesn’t appreciate your teasing. It would be nice if you tried to be less... expressive. Could you?"

"I’m not doing anything wrong," she defended herself. "She’s been on my case since the start. If I’m messing with her, it’s to try and lighten the mood."

"Well, your attempts are failing miserably. They’re just making her angrier, you see."

"And since when do you defend someone against me, huh? You were always on my side before. You really like her, admit it! You wouldn’t be reacting like this otherwise."

"We’re not starting this discussion again, Mapi, and definitely not here," I said as I opened the first door on the right. "Just remember that she agreed to host us, so try to make an effort."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, stepping into the bathroom. "Wow. It’s not just her living room that’s awesome! She has a killer apartment! No wonder you like spending time here

I rolled my eyes before continuing with the tour. I showed her the door across the hall where Lucy told me there was an office. I had never been in there, so I wasn’t about to now. It’s her private space, in my opinion. I finished the tour by showing her Lucy’s bedroom, then the bathroom, and finally our guest room where we’ll be sleeping tonight.

"So we’re sleeping together then?" she asked when she saw our suitcases.

"Yeah, it seemed obvious."

"I just thought you’d be sleeping with Lucy."

"Well, no. Why?"

"I don’t know, you’ve been sleeping with her lately, right? You told me she helps you with your restless nights."

"That’s true, but you can help me too, so I might as well sleep with you since you’re here."

"Lucy didn’t say anything?"

"Why would she? She’s the first one who would want me to sleep in a different bed."

"Okay, if you say so... Anyway, I’m really glad to be here," she changed the subject. "I thought I was going to go crazy in Barcelona."

"I’m glad to see you too, Mapi. By the way, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Since when are you so close with strangers?"

"Strangers? Who are you talking about?"

"Ingrid. You seem to get along really well with her."

"Oh, Ingrid. She’s not a stranger," she giggled. "I got her number on New Year’s. We’ve been texting a lot, and she’s actually the reason I haven’t gone completely crazy since you lost your phone. She’s been a great support this week."

I blinked several times. I was afraid I’d misunderstood. She got Ingrid’s number? What’s this madness? How did I not know about this?

"Wait, wait... Are you telling me you’re flirting with one of my instructors?!"

"Do you think I have a chance with her?" she surprised me by asking with a big smile.

"Wh-what?! No, are you serious?! You’re joking, right?"

"No. I know I can joke about a lot of things, but not right now. I like Ingrid, and she’s really cool, funny, and super nice. You’re not going to get jealous, are you? You already have your instructor."

"Stop bringing everything back to Lucy!" I snapped. "Do what you want with Ingrid. If you two like each other, I’m not going to interfere. I’d even be happy for you, but stop talking about Lucy like she’s my future girlfriend too. That will never happen. I’m not interested, and I probably never will be, so please, just stop because it’s giving me false hope."

« Ona—"

"Stop, be quiet. I don’t want to hear any more. I’ve answered you, and the topic is closed."

That was really the last straw, and I couldn’t take any more for today. I felt like everyone was playing with my feelings, and I hated it. Between Lucy’s unhealthy games and Mapi’s provocations, it just gives me false hope when I know nothing will ever happen. To truly end the topic, I left the room to go back to the girls in the living room. The only one I found was Lucy in the kitchen. I looked around for Ingrid, but she seemed to have vanished, just like the shopping bags on the table.

"Where’s Ingrid?" I asked as I approached Lucy.

"She went home. I offered for her to stay here, so she went back to get some things."

"Oh... Can I help you?"

She agreed and handed me a wooden board and a knife. She asked me to wash my hands before touching anything, which I did quickly. She was cutting cheese into cubes when I interrupted her. She came back to me and handed me a salami.

"Slice it into rounds, please."

"TV snacks?"

"Um, sort of. Where’s Mapi?"

"No idea. I thought she would follow me."

She shrugged and continued with what she was doing. The atmosphere between us had calmed. I could live in this pleasant situation forever. We shared the preparation of the appetizers before spreading some toast together. Lucy also added several types of chips that the girls had brought. Mapi finally reappeared when Ingrid returned. We exchanged an awkward smile. No one noticed, but we knew it meant everything was forgiven. I watched her sit at the dining table across from Ingrid. Lucy offered them the couch, but they wanted to be as close to us as possible. I still have a hard time believing she’s considering something with her. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t even know if Ingrid is a lesbian, but I think I’ll soon have the answers given how well they seem to get along. I just hope Mapi isn’t using her as a fling . I can’t see how I’d explain that to Lucy. I doubt that’s the case. Their relationship seems serious. Anyway, all that matters to me is that I won’t have to pick up my best friend with a spoon. When we finished with the toasts, Lucy and I brought the glasses and drinks to the table. The music was playing softly in the background, just loud enough not to disturb our conversations. Mapi had taken care of bringing the alcohol bottles. They had brought everything: beer, vodka, tequila, Baileys, and even whiskey. I sat in the same spot I was in last week, across from Lucy and next to Mapi, who was deep in conversation with Ingrid. Automatically, Mapi prepared my first glass of vodka after hers while Ingrid opened two beers. Once done, my best friend didn’t wait for the green light to start digging into the food.

"Do you remember the first night we spent together?" she asked me.

"How could I forget?" I mumbled.

"What did she do?" Ingrid asked.

"You better not tell," I warned Mapi with a dark look.

"She couldn’t handle her alcohol and ended up doing a striptease on one of the tables."

"You’re really not cool," I hit back. "It was your fault. You kept refilling my glasses."

"A striptease, really?" Lucy asked. "I wouldn’t have thought that of you."

I blushed deeply when I met her amused gaze. That night was a real disaster. I didn’t know what I was doing for the first time in my life. I had trouble understanding why I received so many invitations from suitors until someone told me about the striptease. I was mortified for weeks. I was lucky to have Mapi at that time. She was turning away everyone who approached me because she wanted me for herself back then.

"I was sixteen!" I defended myself.

"Still, I could make you do anything back then," Mapi snickered.

"You still can..."

"That’s true!" she said with a big smile. "Come on, finish your drink so I can make you the second one."

"Oh, hold on there," Lucy retorted, taking my glass. "After what you just said, I don’t really want her ending up on my table tonight or worse, with her head in the toilet."

"That wouldn’t be the first time..."

"Shut up, Leon ! They don’t need to know everything! Remember, they’re my instructors."

"Instructors with whom you’re sleeping," she laughed. "Very professional!"

"Believe me, when it comes to getting fired, she’s very professional!"

"Did you get fired again?" she laughed.

"Yeah. We couldn’t stop chatting."

"I doubt that’s the only reason," Lucy retorted.

"Well, of course I was replying to her," I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, you managed to make me regret it."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"She’s depriving me of a weekend in the Alps with her friends, where she would have taken me."

"Seriously?" Mapi asked. "And you’re not even thinking of me?"

"Why should I think of you, exactly?" Lucy replied.

"Because Ingrid likes me, at least. She would have certainly liked me to be there."

"Wow, don’t involve me in this," said the person concerned.

"I never said I didn’t like you," Lucy simply replied.

- But you can't say you're all that fond of me either, she insists. You've been shutting me down ever since I got here.

- Mapi, that's enough, I say softly.

- It's fine, Ona. She's right, she shrugs. You're a chatterbox, and I'm just tired. Sorry if you took it personally.

- Lucy can be very grumpy when she doesn't get her sleep, laughs Ingrid.

- Sorry, it's my fault, I plead awkwardly.

- It's fine, don't worry, she smiles at me. Anyway, she returns to Mapi. Since we're talking about it, I want to tell you that I don't like it when you push Ona to go to parties.

The gesture is slight, but I see Ingrid give her a nudge on the thigh, as if she would have preferred her to be quiet. I look up at them, but neither of them shows anything.

- Oh, but you know, you don't need to worry about that, Mapi responds. She's become very reasonable since she met you!

I groan, hiding my head in my hands as she starts comparing our recent parties to our high school parties. I had explicitly avoided doing that so she would never know. Although she doesn’t specify, it’s odd that she’s bringing up our past together. It’s been a long time since we talked about that period, out of fear of making things awkward between us.

- How about we play "Never Have I Ever"? she eventually suggests at the end of her stories.

- You should stop now, I growl in annoyance.

- I think it’s a good idea, comments Lucy.

- Are you serious? I ask in surprise.

- At least we get to know each other better. That’s what you wanted, right?

Now that she mentions it, the game doesn’t seem so silly.

- Do you have something to hide? she challenges me with a little smirk.

- Not at all, I roll my eyes. Let’s go, if that’s what you want.

- Cool, Ingrid replies. Let’s spice up the game, no soft drinks allowed.

I press my lips together, unable to back out now with everyone’s enthusiasm. Lucy doesn’t seem against the idea, as she brings out shot glasses. Ingrid fills them while Mapi reminds us of the rules.

Now that she mentions it, it might not be so stupid after all. She challenges me with a little smile to refuse. I eventually agree, as does Ingrid, who looks just as enthusiastic as my best friend. Mapi decides to spice up the game with plastic shot glasses she bought earlier. It seems like they had everything planned from the start. Ingrid fills the glasses while Mapi goes over the rules.

- So we’re agreed. We take turns saying a phrase that starts with "Never have I ever," and everyone who has done what was said must drink.

- Do you think we’re beginners? Ingrid replies. We’re older than you, remember.

- Yeah, well, find something else to say, she retorts. Start, then.

- Gladly, she smiles sweetly.

And we’re off... In reality, I’m not a big fan of drinking games. I tend to end up in a bad state. Luckily, we start with basic phrases. For my part, I began with phrases that kept me from drinking, such as "Never have I lived in an apartment," etc. I was often the only one who didn’t have to drink. Mapi had to drink to that one since she’s living with a girl from her class. My tactic was flawed because the girls quickly moved on to phrases that forced me to drink. Also, Mapi’s hand has been under the table with her phone for a while. I’m almost sure she’s cheating by telling Ingrid what phrases to say. Being a good sport, I don’t mention it. For now, I’m handling the few drinks I’ve had, but I’m starting to feel tipsy. As the game progresses, everyone begins to get comfortable. The questions start to shift to very personal, even sexual topics.

- Never have I ever slept with a guy, Mapi says.

- Seriously, Mapi?

- Well, what? It’s a basic question. And you two aren’t drinking? she asks the two girls across from us.

- Never with a guy, Lucy replies with a shrug.

- What, seriously? Never with a guy? Mapi repeats with wide eyes.

- Never, she says cheerfully. I’ve always preferred breasts to hairy chests.

She takes a sip of her beer while I laugh at Mapi’s reaction. The alcohol seems to be affecting me. Lucy gives me a small smile, raising her eyebrow.

- A problem, Batlle?

- Yeah! Not all guys’ chests are hairy, I retort.

- That’s true, but you should know I prefer to stay in control and be dominant, she replies with a wink, referring to this afternoon.

- Just words. I’d like to see some proof.

The first to react is Mapi, laughing. Her reaction makes me realize what I just said, and embarrassment quickly overtakes me. The alcohol has clearly taken over at this point, whether for Lucy or for me. I glance at my best friend on my left. She’s the only one who knows about my recent confessions regarding Lucy. I hope she’ll just give me a “I told you so” when we’re alone rather than commenting now. She seems to be opting for that as she brings her drink to her lips, just like Lucy, who is drinking her beer. I’ve noticed that Lucy always takes her time drinking her beers, as if she’s trying to enjoy it to avoid drinking too much. She doesn’t like alcohol, I’ve figured that out over time. Still, she agreed to play the game and considering the number of shots she’s had, her reaction is understandable. I know the alcohol has affected her. At least, she’s become much less grumpy since she started. However, I can’t say the same about her teasing. Although I prefer her this way, I don’t know what she’s playing at since this afternoon. If she knew what I really think, she surely wouldn’t be doing this. That would be intentionally hurting me. Deep down, I know there will never be a chance, no matter how much conviction I put into it. I have in my mind the idea that she’s comparing us to Alexia and Jenni and doesn’t want to make the same mistake. This conclusion comes from the fact that she has always maintained her professionalism with me, and you can’t say she’s fond of Alexia. I could continue to think about this for a long time, but Ingrid clears her throat and resumes the game.

- Never have I ever slept with someone in this room.

I sigh and down my drink that was just refilled. They really want me to get drunk. When I put my glass down, I realize that wasn’t the point of the question given Ingrid’s shocked expression.

- No way... You two together?! she points at Mapi and me. You knew about this? she asks Lucy.

- Of course I did.

- Of course I did, she mimics in a high-pitched voice. You could have told me!

- I didn’t see the point, she replies with a shrug and a little smile. It was a secret, too.

- Tsss.

She gives her a reproachful look. I really wonder what happened between them for her to react like this tonight. They must have had a conversation that we’re not aware of.

- Anyway, Lucy concludes. Never have I ever had a brother or sister.

I’m still the only one drinking. If she joins in, I’m never going to make it through the night!

Saturday, January 16; 1:50 AM - Lucy’s Apartment

I can’t stop laughing. I think I’m drunk. I don’t even know what time it is, but I’ve discovered that fatigue and alcohol don’t mix well. Yet, I’m not ready to go to bed. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a good evening. We’ve moved on to board games after "Never Have I Ever," and I’ve discovered that you can have just as much fun with them. Right now, we’re in the middle of a game of Pictionary. They probably didn’t think it through when they chose it because it’s clear that I’m unbeatable at it. Lucy is on my team since our best friends wanted to team up together. The goal of the game is to have your partner guess the word you’ve drawn. Let’s just say it’s child’s play for me. My senses might have taken a hit, but not my artistic talent. Lucy and I are incredibly efficient together. I only failed at our eleventh round where I didn’t guess Lucy’s drawing, but considering the incompetence of our opponents, it wasn’t a big deal. At the moment, I’m mocking Mapi’s drawing, which really doesn’t look like anything.

- You’re terrible, Lucy mocks next to me on the couch.

- Not everyone has an artist on their team! Mapi grumbles.

- You should have chosen the right teammate, she retorts, sending me a smile.

I clumsily return the smile before letting myself lean against her shoulder. Fatigue is starting to take over. My eyes close for a moment, enjoying the gentle rocking of Lucy's body as she breathes. However, this moment doesn’t last long as someone gently shakes my thigh.

- Don’t fall asleep here. You’d better go to bed, Lucy advises.

I shake my head negatively, burying my face in her neck. I’m so comfortable that I don’t want to move. She sighs and tries to get me to react, but I no longer have the strength. It seems our friends’ round was the last straw.

- Come on, princess. It’s time to go to bed.

- Just a little longer... Please, I mumble.

- No. You’re falling asleep.

- Then take me there, I negotiate.

- If I come with you, you won’t let me go.

- You can sleep with her, I hear Mapi suggest. I don’t want to risk waking her up by going to bed, and I don’t mind sleeping with Ingrid.

- Fine, Lucy mutters.

I groan as Lucy gets up. My head falls to the side, but they catch my body before it falls off the couch. They pull my arms, but the attempt to lift me fails miserably, causing a sigh. In the end, it’s hands under my thighs that lift me off the couch. I try to see what’s happening, but the light is too harsh on my eyes for me to keep them open. All I can see are strands of brown hair. I know it’s Lucy by her scent. She adjusts me comfortably in her arms before I feel her move.

- I can walk, I mumble.

- I have no doubt, she teases.

I groan as she sets me down on something soft, moving completely away from me. I almost regret her warmth but eventually roll onto the bed when I recognize it.

- Oh no, stay there, she giggles, holding me back. Don’t move until I come back.

She’s lucky I don’t have the strength to fight her. I sigh as I fumble with the duvet, looking for a pillow. I find it quickly and pull it close to me to hug like a stuffed toy. There’s noise in the room, but once again, I don’t have the strength to open my eyes. I know it’s Lucy. She gently shakes me.

- Don’t fall asleep, you need to put on your pajamas.

- Hummm... N-no, I groan. I want to stay like this.

- No, absolutely not, she laughs. It’s not comfortable. Come on, just a little effort. I’ll help you if you want. You just need to sit up.

I sigh but let her pull me by the arms to sit up. I rub my eyes before lifting my arms as she asked. My sweater disappears quickly, along with the straps of my bra, which she takes off my arms. She must have figured out that I never sleep with it from the many times we’ve slept together. I know she doesn’t wear one under her pajamas either. I groan as she puts a t-shirt over my head. I slip my arms into it before wanting to fall back, but she holds me.

- Wait, she says with an amused tone. You need to take off your bra.

- Just do it, I mumble.

She does it immediately, unfastening the clasp with a deft motion before letting me go. I take the chance to finally lie back down.

- You’re unbelievable, she giggles. I guess I’ll take care of your jeans too.

I would have preferred to keep them on, but I don’t have the strength to react as she starts to remove them with little difficulty. My socks follow the same path, and then she lets me slip under the duvet. I don’t need any encouragement to crawl under it this time. It’s when I smell her scent everywhere that I realize we’re in her room. I’m not quite sure what’s happening anymore.

- I’m sleeping with you?

- Yeah. The girls are still up.

I pull up the duvet to hide underneath as she turns on her bedside lamp.

- You’re such a princess, she laughs.

- Shut up, I reply with a smile despite myself.

I turn towards the wall to escape the blinding light. It takes a few minutes before I feel her presence behind me.

- I thought you were tougher during nights out.

- I usually am.

- I need proof to believe that. Isn’t that what you said earlier?

- Next time... In the meantime, hold me.

- Is that the alcohol talking?

- Maybe.

The reality is that I appreciate her holding me. Her presence reassures me at night. I feel safe. Not only does she chase away my bad dreams, but she also dispels the fear of something happening to me at night. After all, we’re all vulnerable while sleeping. I smile against my pillow when I finally feel her arms wrap around me after the light is turned off.

- Too many bad habits, princess...

- I love that nickname.

- It suits you pretty well, indeed, she giggles.

I open my eyes and bite my lip when I feel her lips against my collarbone. Reflexively, I give her space to reach my neck. If I have one weak spot, it’s definitely that one. I hear her chuckle softly before feeling her breath create a thousand shivers.

- Too demanding, Miss Batlle.

- Too teasing tonight, Commander.

- Is that bothering you?

I press my body against her chest as one of her cold hands meets the flesh of my stomach. This gesture does not leave me indifferent. I would have certainly pushed her away if I were sober, but desire and alcohol have other plans at the moment. She seems to understand and play with it as her fingers venture over my stomach with a gentle and controlled touch. She stops just short of my intimacy each time. It’s a very strange but pleasant sensation. My brain and heart are no longer listening to me, and my fatigue quickly disappears. I should ask her to stop, but none of that comes out. She finishes me off by planting little kisses on my exposed neck that I’ve left available. Suddenly, as if realizing what she’s doing, she pulls her hand back and carefully adjusts my t-shirt before placing her hand above it again. I release the breath I had been holding when she buries her head in my hair. She does this every time, but this time I think she’s inhaled my scent from her sigh right after. I don’t dare move, so comfortable yet frustrated at the same time. I couldn’t even say if it’s good or bad frustration. It’s the first time someone has touched me like this since Feli, but it’s also the first time she has touched me. My mind seems to have agreed with what escapes my lips.

- Y-you’re joking.

My trembling voice betrays me, but it’s the least of my concerns.

- No...

Her tone is serious, but her smile on my neck betrays her as well. I don’t know what to think, especially with her next words.

- Sorry. Good night, Princess.

- W-why? Why give me all this affection?

- Because I wanted to and I’m pretty sure you won’t remember it tomorrow morning.

- I’ll make sure to remind you if I do...

- We’ll see then. Sleep now, Ona. You’re tired, and so am I.

- Good night, Luce... I comply, agreeing with her.

She kisses the back of my head, which makes me smile even after this little scene. I place my hand against hers to intertwine our fingers. She surprises me by letting me do so. Her gesture is followed by one of her legs slipping between mine. This has become our new position since we started sleeping together. Finally, sleep returns when I feel her warm breath against my neck. I have more than positive thoughts after this crazy night, and I hope they’ll be enough to keep my bad dreams away for at least this night.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #mapi leon #mapi león #ingrid engen #mapi and ingrid #mapi leon x ingrid engen #fiction

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