#how do you just. do that. without feeling like you're carving your chest open in front of me

[bloodstainedcanines]

how do you do it??

[cherry-hulu]

— NDA

Synopsis: Face planted in the sheets. Mingyu thrusting roughly behind you, constantly hitting that oh so sweet spot. Post concert depression who?

Warnings: Idol!KMG x Fem carat!reader, post concert sex, unprotected sex, underskirt, blow job, face, fucking, pet names (princess, baby, good girl), belly bulge, throat bulge, size kink, lmk if I missed anything

When a staff came up to you, pulling you to the corner and asking you about what you'd think about a special backstage meeting. You definitely did not thought that it would come to this. You didn't even expect to be invited. All you knew was that you and Mingyu have been meeting eyes all throughout the concert and that your tummy could definitely be mistaken for a butterfly conservatory with how wild it was in there.

And now it feels like your guts were being rearranged to accommodate Mingyu's size. Creating an indentation of his cock, carving his own— not so little— space within you.

It all happened so quickly. One moment he was pulling you aside and the second he was pushing you up against the door, body to body, skin to skin, having an aggressive make out session. Nothing about it was gentle. Eager masked by aggression motivated each movement done to each other.

You gasped as he kisses down your neck, down to your cleavage while sliding down the sleeves of your pretty blouse alongside your bra. With one hand, and lips attached to your skin, your mounds were exposed to him in no second. He'd done this a hundred times— more than enough to know that he doesn't have that much time.

So he rushes. Picking you up, your legs wrap around his waist in instict causing your clothed cunt to slightly rub on his abs causing both of you to moan.

Mingyu lays you down on the couch as he takes his shirt off before diving back into your chest. You moan as your hands touch all over him. Feeling his skin, his muscles, his biceps as he grinds on you. With your skirt lifted slightly up, his hard on slots perfectly between your clothed cunt causing both of you to moan during the kiss.

You palm him, holding his heavy cock in your hands before kneeling in front of him and pushing his pants and boxers down to reveal him. Standing proudly and sticking against his stomach, tip red and angry with sploches of pre-cum. With no hesitation you take him in, eyes keeping contact with his— just like how you were during the concert.

"Fuck. There you are again with those damn eyes." Mingyu mutters as he grabs the back of your head patting it down. "Such a good girl, getting on her knees for me without command. You really want me that bad huh? Enjoy me princess, not alot of people get this chance." As he watches you take his cock.

You do it slowly as to enjoy the moment and also because it would be impossible to take him in one go. And Mingyu was so obsessed with you. His hands wrapped around your throat feeling the bulge caused by him, small tears running down your eyes as you look up at him with doe eyes. "Fucking perfect."

Slowly you start to move, bobbing your head forwards and backwards. You had a slow pace, adjusting to his size careful on not going too hard incase you might choke. It didn't took long before Mingyu grabbed your head and started facefucking you instead.

Throwing his head back, your cunt throbbed even more, a visible and prominent wet patch on your panties as you saw him. The hand on your back, the weight of his cock in your mouth, his thrusting motions. It was all so hot.

He thinks the same as he looked back down at you, looking up at him with eyes big, mouth wide open stretched around his cock. "Shit baby you're so fucking hot." He mutters before pulling out. Cock immediately standing back up against his stomach. He was rock hard.

"Wan' more please.." You whimper straightening your posture as you look up at him more, pouting. "You'll get more princess don't worry, but right now I want nothing more than your pussy." He says as he lays you back down, bending your knees and lifting your skirt up slightly giving him a perfect view of your clothed cunt.

Due to the hot weather in South Korea, you opted to just wear panties out and decided to just be more careful with your movements. "What a slut, walking around with no safety shorts on? Jumping at my concert, while giving me those eyes? You were just waiting to be fucked weren't you?" Mingyu says as he pulls back the middle of your panties before letting it snap back and rubbing on the wet spot right after.

He lifts the panties off you immediately revealing your throbbing pretty pussy. "Pretty and pink, perfect princess." While rubbing your bud.

Coming near you, you spread your legs immediately accommodating his size. Mingyu slaps his fat cock on your pussy a couple of times, teasing the tip on your entrance before slowly pushing in.

It felt so surreal, he was stretching you so much. Immediately, your upper half lifted off the couch, mouth hanged wide open as he eases into you. His hand wraps around the whole circumference of your waist making him harder "So small baby."

Propping your legs on his shoulder after easing himself in. He started off slowly before gradually speeding up as be remembers the limited time. It didn't took long before the room was echoing with the sound of skin slapping and your load moans and whimpers that just gets Mingyu to fuck you harder each time.

"S.. S.. So.. B.. Big.. M.. M.. Min.. G.. Gyu," While he fucks you relentlessly. He rubs the bulge on your stomach as he chuckes lightly "Weren't you just talking relentlessly earlier? Where'd that go?"

He flips you around—penis still lodged in you—now face planted into the couch as he fucks and reached you deeper and harder. The furniture now moving inch by inch away from it's original position. His hand rests on your back, while his other hand lifts your skirt up and spanks your ass loving the way it turns red.

"I.. I'm cl.. close," You whimper. "Me too baby, me too." Mingyu responds as he fucks you harder than possible. A few more thrusts and you were creaming all over him creating a white ream in between your connection. One more hard thrust before he pulls out and cums all over your back, jacking off lightly to ride his high.

Resting his fat cock on atop of your but, he kisses your back lightly as he whispers you praises and affirmations. "Did so good baby, 'm so proud of you."

Mingyu turns your around and sees your fucked up state. Kissing your forehead, he spreads your legs around him once again startling you as your eyes open wide. He starts to go down your body as he looks up at you witha smug look on his face. "What? I'm just getting you your moneys worth."

[rottiens]

⊹ ˚. GOJŌ SATORU┊18+ , bf! gojō, somnophilia (noncon), oral ( m -> f ), canon au, female-bodied reader, petnames (angel). divider creds: cafekitsune. WC. 1.4K

Gojo promised himself not to touch you. Instead he admired you from afar, struggling with the carnal desire that asks him to slide his fingers through the nooks and crannies of your body— you, sprawled on the sheets, becoming one with the bed and your tousled hair. Carefully, he removes the glasses that were lying on the bridge of your nose, crooked and just a shake of your head threatening to break them.

The light illuminating you from a lamp on the bedside table does little to brighten the room. The opaque rays show your relaxed face sleeping pleasantly and a little further on, they show your hands resting without a defined posture at the level of your hips.

Gojo holds the book open at the edge of the bed and closes it to put it aside on the bedside table along with your glasses, without them, you look much younger even and the idea makes him smile because if you were awake you would tap his shoulder and tell him to shut up.

Still with the grin on his lips, he sits on the bed carefully avoiding waking you up, you're so comfortable that it's the last thing he would want… that's when he really intends not to wake you up, he doesn't want to interrupt your sleep, he just…. He just wants to admire you a little more.

The tank top you're wearing does little to cover you. One of your breasts escapes slightly outward giving gojo a flash of skin and your erect nipples that he can't stop staring at. He bites his lower lip, controlling his thoughts that rushed to take him to places and corners of his head that he shouldn't, thoughts that end and begin with him grabbing your tit without caution and taking it into his mouth to lick and abuse it with his teeth.

He stretched his hand towards you, your chest rises and falls placidly just like the waves, the opposite of his that heaves with each new dangerous thought his unconscious whips him with. His finger traces your collarbones in a touch that never comes, his cursed technique prevents him from touching you and he purposely keeps it active because it makes him feel less guilty. Restless, he searches for your erect nipple and makes the attempt to touch it in circles, in that instant you move seeking the comfort of the sheets which would seem a coincidence that gives him the opportunity not to continue disturbing your sleep.

"Fuck." It's the exact moment where he realizes he won't be able to keep his promise.

With one hand he squeezes the soft bulge forming a tent in his pants, with the other, he mimics the action of grabbing your breast and carving your nipple back and forth but once again, he never manages to touch you. Getting up from the bed and moving far enough away from you to admire you again, gojo removes his uniform shirt leaving it lying somewhere in the room along with the blindfold.

The yellow dye sticks to his naked torso right away, illuminating his overworked abdomen and moles that seemed to have been put there specifically.

He's late. And he is sorry. He will apologize to you tomorrow because he knows how important it is for you to spend time with him, he feels guilty for not being there on time and making you wait for him, but he feels guiltier for what he will do next.

Gojo again sits on the edge of the bed but this time he goes to your feet. His fingers spread your knees apart to make a space where his big body can fit in between. Your thighs spread to either side without effort and he takes the opportunity to make a house of your thighs and place them on top of his shoulders still with infinity in between.

Still not allowing you to feel him, gojo pushes your panties with his nose. His eyelids droop at the sensation of the heat emanating from your pussy onto his tongue, his mouth is soaked with the thought of how it will feel to finally taste you and this makes him push further into you in an invisible thrust.

His body tenses with need yet desperation, squeezing his eyes shut he sees only black and flashes like white dots, however the taste of your natural scent guides him through the gloom making it clear to him that there is nothing wrong with this, this is the right thing to do, he knows that if you would be awake you would approve. Finally and without his infinite technique getting in the way, his nose snakes between the folds of your pussy, parting your lips until his nose pushes against your clit and rubs it back and forth sniffing shamelessly.

Gojo stands still for a moment, every muscle inside him grinding with desire as he waits for you to say something, a moan, a prayer… seeing the state you're in only urges him to continue. Mouth open and hands clutching at the sheets struggling not to grab the flesh of your thighs hungrily seeking more of that which makes him moan against your panties.

His spit helps the fabric become a mess and he soon finds it annoying that he can't feel you directly, so with the help of his fingers he pushes them aside to finally taste your naked pussy.

Gojo took exactly five seconds to admire the mess he had made of you. Swollen lips dripping with excitement, a plump little clit poking just a little from between your labia and a pussy throbbing and twitching just begging him to keep going.

Along with a grunt louder than he planned he plunges into your hole parting it with his tongue until he explores deep. His tongue curves, expertly, seeking more, fucking you in and out and alternating the motion to move up to your needy clit and give it the attention it deserves by crushing it with the flat of his tongue.

You mewl with a barely audible whimper, indicating that you'll probably wake up soon. Confident now he does hold your thighs, he opens them to give him room for his head to sink deeper into you opening his mouth wider to take as much of you as he can. The warmth and taste of your juices is addictive, gojo wants to drink you and then sink so deep into you; this is the idea that leads him to, intoxicated with ecstasy slide a long finger inside you.

Your confusion sets in as you call his name. His cock aches, you sound so drowsy, your voice barely a murmur that is replaced with a broken moan after he sucks hard on your clit.

You meet his cocked smile in the middle of your legs. His eyes are two full moons that greet you shining with desire and need, his hair is a white tangle that sticks to his forehead and falls tousled over his ears. You take note to cut it off when they're not in such a… compromising situation and instead help him by pushing the sweaty strands aside back to get a better glimpse of what was going on.

"What are you…" you can't finish the sentence because of the sudden feeling that hits you. It's that tightening and loosening rope in your belly warning you that you're on the verge of orgasm. So fast? It's what makes you wonder, how long has gojo been eating your pussy?

"Let it all out." He commands you. And your body obeys him, "All in my mouth," he adds in a purr. You can't even protest or assimilate the sensations that hit your body.

And only when you start to break into his embrace do you realize that two of his fingers are stretching you to the limit and his tongue keeps licking you back and forth and up and down. You try to pull his hair back, tell him you're sore, but Gojo doesn't stop until he's satisfied, not until you've finished squeezing around his fingers.

Gojo pulls out of you with a grunt, your body unravels again on the bed as if in a liquid state and your eyelids give in to exhaustion and close again. Your chest rises and falls desperately seeking oxygen, and every fiber in your body feels on fire.

He leaves one last kiss on top of your clit and rises from between your thighs with soaked lips and wet chin. "I'm going to push my cum inside you now, okay?" a loving hand emerges caressing your navel through the thin fabric, you stare up at him from below between heavy lashes. "Just keep sleeping, angel. I know you're tired, just let me take what I want."

a/n. this was going to be darker but I'm a chicken and I regretted it.

[vilhelios]

— WAIT FOR ME / I'M STILL SOMEWHERE ;

( you're getting older without me and i'm getting scared ) ; in which rafayel still hopes that there's a life where this works — where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.

cw: not beta read; spoilers for abysswalker rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth, "fragrant dreams" card, "siren's song" anecdote, & main story ch. 7; angst ; some fluff ; mentions of blood, injury & death ; theories + headcanons about mc & rafayel's past lives ; kinda pretentious rafayel lore analysis ( can't help it, i just love him a lot! )

"RAFAYEL, do you think we're lovers in every universe?"

in the stillness of the night, as he mindlessly draws designs on your skin with his thumb, rafayel lies through his teeth: "yeah. i'm sure we are."

it's all he can manage. how do you tell your lover—your dear, sweet muse, whose presence makes the sea of your heart ebb and swell—that you've wondered the same thing lifetimes ago, and know the answer with bittersweet certainty? you continue talking about an article you read, in the morning—something about "consciousness energy fluctuations" and "that feeling of deja vu" and "soulmates."

and rafayel wonders, humming along to your rambling, if that's what you two are: soulmates.

"i wonder what we're like." you sigh, burrowing your head into the warmth of his chest. surely you can hear the rapid thrumming of his heart—he can't help it, the organ so helplessly weak in your presence. "you're the most creative man i know; got any ideas?"

"i think," rafayel starts, runs his fingers through your hair, "there's a life where i'm a merman, you're the human i've fallen deeply in love with, and the barrier between the waves and the shoreline is all that's stopping us."

rafayel remembers being younger, lifetimes ago. he remembers swimming upstream, through a little river that becomes a smaller creek, settling by your quaint home. he remembers playing you a song on his flute, an elegy for lemuria that became your song. he still remembers your head peeking out from the window and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen staring down at him. you were like sunflecks dancing upon the water's surface—dazzling—and he, denizen of the deep dark sea, couldn't help but fall in love. he gave you his heart, his blood, his voice.

"hmm... reminds me of an old fairy tale." you press a kiss to the beauty mark on his chest, your lips curving into a smile against his skin. right above where his heart is, where the proof of your pact would shine bright. "do you think you'd have gotten a pair of legs and we'd live happily ever after on land?"

"of course i would've." rafayel smiles.

(he does not think about the way his voice grew hoarse as he sung lemuria's elegy. he does not think about the dagger he'd clutched so tightly in his hidden hand, as you approached him on the shore. he does not think about the hug, the warmth of your body making his resolve flutter. the warm blood on his hands, in the water, seeping from the heart he once loved and now carved out and cradled. he does not think about returning to a ruined lemuria, everything he's ever loved ripped away from him in a night.)

"then i like that one. what about another? knowing how we quarrel, do you think we were royalty hailing from opposing kingdoms?"

"hmm, close. i'd say that i'm an assassin, sneaking into your lovely highness's bedroom window."

"hah! i can see that." his heart flutters when he hears you giggle. rafayel wishes he could trap that beautiful sound inside a conch shell, it almost seemed possible, the way it felt like molten gold—sunlight. "i'd leave the windows open just so you'd have an easier time coming in."

"glad to know you'd still fall for my charms." he finds it in himself to smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "even if it might not be the brightest idea, dummy."

"hmph, but if we still loved each other then, you wouldn't kill me." your hand reaches upwards to cup his cheek, a thumb aimlessly stroking comforting lines across his skin. his breath hitches at how naturally it comes to you. "you'd fall for my charms too."

(why wouldn't it? you've done it so many times before, as you—dear highness of philos—gingerly removed his mask. he, who was destined to carve out your heart; and he, who could not bear to do so, who fell apart in the warmth of your hold. any hatred he'd held in his heart for the humans that desecrated his home —beautiful, sacred lemuria— dissolved with each ripple of the lake you both had danced across on that silent night. how could he ever hurt his beloved, who in another life he'd devoted entire oceans to?)

"yeah." he breathes out, almost a chuckle. "yeah, i guess i would, your highness."

"rafa?" you murmur, words slurred with the call of sleep, ushered in by him running a hand through your hair. "i really hope that we're soulmates even if it's in the silliest lives you could ever think up. do you?"

(and he hopes for more, a case study in greed. he hopes for the most blissful lives with you—where he's the receding sea and you are the sands of the shore, or you are an anemone polyp and he is the rock you've decided to settle upon, or he is the deepsea fish that looks longingly upon the warmth of the sunflecks that dance upon the water. he hopes there's a life where this whole thing works: where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.)

and rafayel smiles, presses the umpteenth kiss tonight to your forehead, watches you draw closer into his hold. and then he whispers his little wish against your skin, as soft as a siren singing lullabies to a sailor:

"yeah. i hope so too."

a/n: on this lovely valentine's day i offer the rafa stans: angst 🤩 the ending was a bit rushed because i... was no longer in an angsty mood. this fic is very much so a product of a time where i knew less of rafa's lore (see: did not finish the myth) so there may be some lore inaccuracies ... please do listen to berenstein by the band camino!!! l&ds' plot feels like an amalgamation of some of my favourite songs (berenstein, heartbeat by bts, isohel by EDEN)... and it's just such a good plot so far. please send me rafa lore stuff/general thoughts bc i'd love to try and play around with some of them (i have an idea for his birthday fic already) ,,, i'd love and appreciate you immensely ♡

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

MIDNIGHT TROUBLES

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!

warnings: swearing, fluff (i guess?) angst, mentions to the giggidy (nothing actually happens), derogatory terms/names used

A/N: i was sleep deprived and cluelesss when writing this so enjoy :)

part two: meet me at midnight | part three: its not midnight anymore

You've been friends with Luke Castellan since the day you showed up at camp drenched in water and he showed you around. You've been inseparable since then - y/n and Luke. Luke and y/n, you were a package deal, wherever one went the other followed.

On this particular day you had seated yourself down on a sunny patch of grass to sing. Luke had settled himself a few feet away from you pretending not to listen as your lips parted and sound sweeter than any strawberry escaped your mouth.

His eyes shut peacefully as your song washes over him. He's always loved your singing, everyone does, your song can seem to stop time for a few moments. But Luke likes to think he loves it the most - he's your best friend, of course he gets that right.

Once you finish singing you open your eyes and Luke is staring at you with pure amazement and... something else you can't quite place. Whatever it is, it's gone in a blink. "That was beautiful, y/n," he smiles.

"Like you," you tease standing up and reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You do know you don't have to sit with me and listen every time I sing don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. But I want to," Luke says, standing up with you and pulling you into a side hug. "You've got a really beautiful voice y/n."

You brush it off and wrap your arm around his waist walking along with him. "Oh but its not as beautiful as yours," you joke and Luke's laugh vibrates through you sending a jolt of tingles and a wave of repressed feelings.

You watch as Luke laughs and can't help but smile yourself. You and Luke have been deemed the camp's Mom and Dad. If anything was wrong and you didn't want to take it to Mr D or Chiron the campers would go to you two, Apollo and Hermes cabin counsellors. That's when the rumours started. Luke and y/n are dating. Although you've both denied it several times the campers never listened and you were dubbed Mom and Dad.

Even though you denied it, a small- a medium- okay a pretty huge part of you wants it to be true. I mean who wouldn't want Luke Castellan to be their boyfriend? He has offers piling up every day from girls. You're pretty sure you've even seen someone offer him a fucking apple with the words 'will you go out with me' carved into it. Luke said no of course - she was a frigging psycho - but even then he never said yes to any of the offers, the ones that you knew about anyway.

"I got patrol tonight after the campfire," you sigh and break away from Luke to give a younger boy from Aphrodite a hug when he showed you his result from arts and crafts. Not noticing how Luke tenses beside you until the boy runs off to tell his friends you hugged him.

"I'll come with you, there's bound to be some shit heads sneaking off to go hook up," he rolls his eyes looking directly at some Ares camper who you've both caught several times. "And besides, gods know you couldn't handle the dark without me."

You scowl at Luke smacking him. "Haha very funny, a daughter of the sun god is afraid of the dark, it's hilarious." Luke just grins and catches your hand against his chest, holding it there, when you go to hit him again. Your laughter fades and you both just stare at each other for a moment neither of you wanting to break it but also wanting to admit to the other that there was something happening.

Luke clears his throat and drops your hand gently. "Whatever loser, you're the one stuck with me," you tease and kiss his cheek. Walking away before you lose your nerve. Holy shit why'd you do that? you scream inside your head. What the fuck? Why? Why? You couldn't have walked away normally, but noooo you had to kiss his fucking cheek.

You press the palm of your hands into your eyes and accidentally slam into someone. "Shit sorry!" you cry out looking down to see the poor camper you practically ran over.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Percy says looking up at you and then over at Luke who hasn't moved since you walked away. "Did you break him or something?"

"Or something," you mutter, helping Percy up. "Sorry again, Percy." You force a smile onto your face and sigh as you look at Luke.

"Yeaaah, you messed him up damn." Percy drawls. "Like really messed him up. Damn what did you do? Did you like, kick him in the balls or something?"

"Percy!" you shout shutting him up. He doesn't even have the decency to look apologetic when he says sorry and then scurries off when Grover calls out to him.

Sighing, you shake your head and grumble to yourself about its going to be hella awkward tonight.

~~~

Something was wrong with Luke's heart. It hadn't stopped beating wildly since y/n had kissed him on the cheek and he was trying to control his erratic pulse when he rises up the steps to your cabin.

He knocks twice on the door and takes a deep breath when you open the door and look up at him. The deep breath is cut short when he notices you're wearing his hoodie. You smile up at him and ask, "you ready to go catch some horny teens?"

He nods and lets you lead the way. "Sure, yep, let's go Sunflower." You both walk in silence for the first two minutes before Luke works up the courage to say, "nice hoodie, there by the way, it matches your flashlight."

You twist around and grin ignoring his dig at your flashlight - it's white with a bunch of sunflowers hand painted on. "Yeah, some super, cool, really annoying guy gave it to me." Luke's eyebrow arches and you roll your eyes. "Fine, I stole it from the guy, cause it's soft and smells nice," you mumble that last part and Luke tilts his head at you in question.

"What was that last part?"

"It's soft?"

"No, the other part?"

You're quiet for a moment before mumbling, "it smells..... nice."

Luke practically stops breathing, but covers it up with a smirk. "You think I smell nice?"

You internally slap yourself. "Yes," you quietly answer. Well you know what? When you thought it was going to be awkward earlier? That's nothing compared to the tension right now.

A loud moan comes from up ahead behind the trees and you sigh tugging the hoodie closer before running up ahead to break up whatever situation is happening.

"Hey!" you yell out to the two campers whose clothes are dishevelled and hair all mussed up. "Get back to your cabins! And when I say cabins I mean your own cabin." The two kids scramble away back to their cabins swearing.

"Fuckers," Luke mutters from behind you. "I swear they always choose the same spot."

You spin around and smile, "they'll be back don't worry, you can bust them next time."

After you both make your rounds, catching three other couples, you end up in a secluded spot near the lake.

"So," you start looking out to the water, smiling softly. "What do you wanna talk about?" You shove the flashlight in the front pocket just soaking in the moonlight - and besides Luke's here, he protects you from the dark.

Luke looks over at you and steps closer wrapping a hand around each of your - well technically his - hoodie's drawstrings. "I don't really know..." he trails off and then looks down at you, your eyes shining in the moonlight. And then something must've possessed him because he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

You look up at him in surprise. "What was that for?" You ask, noticing how Luke's eyes shine with affection.

"Just paying you back for earlier."

You both freeze then - not tensing up but just not moving. Staying in the small bubble that you two have created for yourselves. The comfort of the silence that surrounds you both covers you like a blanket.

Your faces inch closer, your breaths mingling as your eyes meet and you swear you can hear your heartbeat. Can Luke hear how loud your heart is beating? Like seriously? It's so loud.

Everything seems perfect before a loud laugh erupts in the distance. You sigh and pull away from him and start walking over to where the noise came from. Were you going to kiss just then? Holy shit. Was that actually happening?

Luke's presence at your side sends you into a tailspin. Does he like you? Or was he only doing that out of pity. You reach into the hoodie to pull out your flashlight but a hand wraps around your own and you skid to a stop, looking down at Luke's hand intertwined with yours.

Luke doesn't stop though, he just keeps walking, hopefully not noticing how red your cheeks are right now.

You both round the path and find a girl sitting on a fallen log hidden in the trees, she's wrapped in nothing but a blanket she must've brought from her cabin. When the girl sees you - well more like see's Luke - her eyes brighten up.

"Oh Luke! You're finally here! I was waiting for you." A frown instantly replaces the soft smile you have on your face.

"What?" Your voice is quiet and confused.

The girl shoots you a smug look. "What? Did you actually think Luke wanted to spend time with you tonight?" She smirks. "He was only killing time to spend it with me."

What?

You know what the girl is saying is wrong but when you look at Luke you almost start crying. He's quiet at your side staring harshly at the girl. He's not denying it. He's not denying it!

"Lukey and I have plans now bitch-girl, leave." Your teeth clench so tightly you're afraid you're gonna break your jaw. Why isn't Luke SAYING ANYTHING??

You stare frigidly at the girl. "Look, I wanna say Gina..?" she asks purposely misnaming you.

"It's y/n."

"Right that's what I said," she smirks. "Now unless you want to watch me and Luke roll around on the ground here I suggest you leave."

You stay put fighting your ground. Why is Luke not saying anything??

"Ooh we've got a bit of a slut on our hands do we? Damn Gina, I didn't know you were into kinky shit."

"I don't-"

She cuts you off. "It's fine I don't mind you watching like the whore you are."

WHY ISN'T LUKE SAYING ANYTHING?

The girl turns her eyes on Luke again. "I'm waiting for you Luke. Tell her to piss off. Or better yet, tell her that we've been sleeping together."

Luke stays quiet, his eyes locked on the girl.

What. The. Fuck?

The girl opens her mouth to start again but you turn around before she can say anything else.

"Y'know what? I'll leave you two to it," you spit, forcing the tears that spring to your eyes to stop.

"Wait y/n!" Luke calls out suddenly, but you've already launched into a sprint not caring what he has to say now. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it.

Tears blur your eyes and you struggle to pull out your flashlight, tripping over a tree root and stumbling to the ground. You face plant onto the ground and even though you're wearing long pants you can feel your skin being torn.

It's dark and cold

You have scratches along your face and arms - where the hoodie pushed up - everything burns your skin, your face, your eyes, your heart.

He didn't deny it.

You pat around looking for your flashlight. No, no, no, no, no. It can't be lost, no! Luke painted it for you, when you first came to camp and when he found out you were afraid of the dark.

Luke made that. Your Luke made tha-

Your face crumples.

Luke.

He didn't deny it. He didn't say anything. He didn't stop her.

Your heart heavy as you do so, you stand up, fighting the new wave of tears that threaten to overcome you.

A chill hits you and you pull the dirty hoodie closer. It still smells like Luke.

And...

And its dark...

Shit.

Anger pools deep in your gut. She called you a slut and a whore.

That bitch better watch it.....

©strawberries-and-summer-days

a/n: lemme know if you want a part two!!

[dangerpronebuddie]

“I’m sorry for not believing you”

For you, lovely! Under the cut because tumblr has something against me.

“Why do you sound like you have your head stuck in a bucket?” Eddie says with a confused frown. 

“Well it’s not!” Buck huffs. “I… UGH I’m so stupid!”

“You’re not stupid,” Eddie says definitively. “I’m almost there, tell me what happened.”

“I was carving pumpkins for us to take to Hen and Karen’s party,” Buck says, his voice muffled and echoey and far away. It may just be because the speaker on Eddie’s phone is jacked up.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says when Buck doesn’t continue, drawing out the syllables. “And?”

“And I… might have my head stuck in a pumpkin.” 

Eddie opens his mouth to reply, when the words fully register. He rolls his lips and swallows the laugh bubbling up in his chest. “You do not have a pumpkin stuck on your head.”

“Why would I lie about having a fucking pumpkin stuck on my head?” Buck cries. 

Eddie pulls up outside Buck’s building and hops out, forgetting the hat to his costume on the seat and jogging inside. “I’m in the elevator, I’ll be there in a minute,” Eddie says, preparing himself for whatever catastrophe Buck is really facing.

“The door’s unlocked,” Buck says with a weary sigh before hanging up. 

Eddie jogs to Buck’s door and steps inside. 

He freezes in his tracks and bites down hard on his lip to keep from bursting out laughing. “Buck.”

Buck whirls around to face him, his cape swishing with the movement, his eyes just barely visible through the carved eyes of the pumpkin on his head. 

“You-” Eddie claps a hand over his mouth- “you actually have a pumpkin on your head.”

“I told you!” His voice sounds even more garbled than it did on the phone, and his wide puppy eyes peering at him through the gourd should make Eddie feel guilty for wanting to laugh, but it has the opposite effect. 

“I'm sorry for not believing you,” Eddie says, his hand still over his mouth to hold back his giggles. 

“Apologize later, just help me!” Buck exclaims, tugging at the gourd adorning his noggin. 

Eddie joins him at the kitchen island. “How did you even… Why did you even…”

“Remember, I told you Jee wanted me to be-”

“The headless horseman from that one Scooby Doo,” Eddie nods, Buck's logic making as much sense now as it probably could. “And you wanted to see if you could use an actual pumpkin for the head.”

Buck's shoulders drop. “Yeah,” he admits, a little dejected.

“You're adorable,” Eddie says with a smile way too fond. His eyes widen in shock at the same time Buck's do. He most definitely did not mean to say that out loud. 

Buck recovers first. Even without the mouth carved out, Eddie can tell there's a smirk on his face, albeit a little sheepish. “Even with a pumpkin on my head?” 

Eddie snorts a surprised laugh. “Even with a pumpkin on your head.” He looks at the array of utensils and special carving tools Buck has spread across the island and selects a short, serrated knife.

“You sure you want out?” Eddie grins. “I think it suits you.”

Buck ducks his head and topples forward a little with the weight of the gourd, a small, surprised whoa escaping his lips. Eddie giggles and helps right him. “Yes, get me out of here,” Buck says. “I know orange is my color, but this is too much.”

Eddie chuckles and sets to work, starting at the top of the pumpkin, which Buck had thankfully carved out already. 

“Hold still,” Eddie says softly. He doesn't know if this'll work, but they've got to start somewhere. 

Buck does as instructed, fingers gripping the countertop to keep from fidgeting as Eddie carefully saws through the pumpkin. He doesn't go deep enough to completely puncture it, but he creates enough give to pry it apart. 

Buck sighs in relief as the pumpkin comes apart in Eddie's hands. There's a few seeds in his curls and the puppy eyes are out in full force, and Eddie truly doesn't think he's ever looked more beautiful. 

“Thanks, Eds,” Buck says, a blush high on his cheeks. 

“Always,” Eddie says, much more soft than necessary. “But please don't do that again.”

Buck giggles. “I don't plan on it. But if I do, I know I can call Zorro to help me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile. “This costume was your idea, remember?”

“I didn't think you'd actually do it,” Buck says, trailing his fingertips along the collar of Eddie's half buttoned shirt. 

“Buck, I don't think there's a single thing you could ask of me that I wouldn't do,” Eddie declares, looking into his eyes. He thinks he should be terrified, but giddiness overtakes any lingering fear when Buck tugs him close by the collar. 

“Yeah?” Buck's eyes dart down to his lips. “Even if I asked you to kiss me?” 

Eddie cups his cheek and draws him into a devastating kiss. Buck makes a soft noise against his lips Eddie swallows down. He tastes a little like pumpkin but Eddie doesn't care. Something settles inside him as Buck cups his face in his hands, deepening the kiss. 

Buck is the first to pull away, resting their foreheads together. “So… if there’s nothing you wouldn’t do…” Eddie watches, half dazed, as a smirk spreads across Buck’s kiss-swollen lips. “Then would you let me fu-”

Eddie cuts him off with a quick kiss they both laugh into. “We’ll come back to that later. Right now, we have a party to get to. I didn’t dress like this for nothing.”

Buck hums and kisses him again. “You sure didn’t.”

Eddie makes himself pull away and take Buck’s hand. “Come on, pumpkin.”

Send me an I'm Sorry prompt!

[julietslament]

The Butcher and The Rabbit Ch.2

Stone Butch!Huntress x High Femme!Reader

Part 1

Summary: The wolf has taken you back to its nest. Tends your wounds and brings back unwanted feelings.

CW/Tags: The inherent homoeroticism of stitching up wounds. Internalized homophobia. Vaguely unwanted touching. Anna is kinda silly.

A/N: Zaya - Meaning little rabbit. A popular Russian term of endearment. Used for a spouse or lover.

The searing pain of your leg settles into a dull ache as you're carried through the pitch black wood. Head pounding with every step she takes. Your hands grip into her shirt, while you try to keep yourself conscious. With no light to guide you, it’s impossible to tell if your eyes are even open. There’s no path for this beast to follow as she stalks through the trees. Her steps are light, not even a leader out of place. The only sound she makes is singing that old lullaby. Something that once soothed you to sleep is now a haunting knell of uncertainty.

‘The gray wolf has come.’

Pain is all you can focus on. It’s what you have to focus on. The only thing that needs attention right now. How your bones ache, and the pull of your limbs as they grow heavy. Adrenaline flows out the tips of your fingers, leaving you as nothing more than a limp carcass hanging over this giant's shoulder. Just as the cold kiss of snowflakes hits your cheek her raspy voice reaches out.

“Almost home.” She reassures with a gentle pat on your bum. As if you were merely too drunk to make it home. Were you in your right mind you’d be humiliated. She talks to you so softly, like you're a child. What’s worse is that you feel like one. Pathetic and small. 

The sound of a door creaking open, and you can finally see. Nutty wood floors glow with firelight. The warmth of it hits you slowly, seeping through your skin to soothe your aching bones. With long strides, you're carried through a living room, up hand-carved stairs, and through the threshold of a door. Gently the stranger leans forward and you’re sat down on a plush bed of fur. Bouncing slightly atop the covering your hands grasp at the fur to steady yourself. 

Worrying the thick duvet in your hands you take in the room. Warm cedar walls adorned with bones. Antlers of hunts gone by proudly displayed over a fireplace. The crackling of flames settles your nerves. Slowly the world stops spinning as your headache dwindles.

 Towering over you the stranger tilts her head, studying you through the holes in her mask. Her eyes glowing in the low light of the fire and as your gaze finally lands on her a tension fills the air. It’s a suffocating apprehension, wrapping itself around your throat. She’s breathing heavily, harder than before. Her chest heaving up and down. Her hands twitching at her sides.

 ‘It was a long journey.’ You think and you're not a small woman. She must be tired. Although her gaze tells you something else. Staring down at you like a predator. Muscles taught and ready to spring at the twitch of your finger.

‘She’s going to eat me.’

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. The fur straining against your hand as you grip it tighter between your fingers, waiting. A doe frozen in the sights of a wolf, but before the pounce comes she pivots. Turning away towards a different door in the room. You can’t take your eyes off her, you shouldn’t. This is still a killer, after all. A strange hermit in the woods. The fact that she saved your life doesn’t change that. Who knows what she could do to you?  

Eyes trained on her, you try to peer into the room. Watching as she fades into the darkness, not bothering to make a light. Moving through the darkness as she did in the woods. Confident in every move she makes. Something wooden opens, shuts, and then she’s back in sight. Carrying a white tin in her hand.

Without a word, she kneels beside the bed and opens the box. Taking out bandages and tinctures to lay neatly beside you. Firelight glints off steel scissors, sending a shiver up your back. Shoulders tensing as she silently prepares her tools. Sewing needles, knives, and other things that slice through skin to bone. The silence is too much.

“Have you done this before?” You ask nervously. Eyeing her as she settles herself over your maimed foot. Taking the boot gently she begins unthreading the laces. It’s jarring how carelessly she touches you. How easy it is for her to move you as she needs. Sparring you a glance she smiles ever so slightly at your words.

“Have you?” She quips back. With the laces removed, she opens the leather mouth as wide as she can. Delicately she pries the boot off your foot, steadily revealing your wool sock. Once a bone white now dyed red with blood. Wincing you scrunch your nose at her. The disgust at seeing your own blood paired with your annoyance at her nonchalance.

“You're not going to saw my foot off are you?” You mutter back. Wincing you scrunch your nose at her. The disgust at seeing your own blood paired with your annoyance at her nonchalance. Though she only responds to your attitude with a humorous huff.

“The trap was small. Meant for a rabbit.” She laughs to herself. Her hand gently cradling your leg, raising it to settle on her knee. Shuffling your skirt higher up your leg in the process, the wool tickling your knee. 

Taking the sheers, she slices the fabric through. Then gently peels the wool from your bloodied flesh. Steady in her movements you're sure she’s had experience. Doesn’t even flinch at the grotesque way your torn skin clings to the wool. Lifting and stretching with it, slowly so as to not mangle the skin any further. Blood drips down to the floorboards now that the lacerations are exposed. Deep gashes tearing into the muscle. You cringe at the sight, unable to look away.

She must notice your brow pinche together. How your lip trembles at the sight of gore. Gaze softening ever so slightly she runs her hand along your leg. Rubbing her thumb just under the hem of your skirt. It’s meant to be comforting you know, but it only stresses you more. The callousness of her fingers set your skin ablaze. What shocks you the most is how warm she is.

“It’s not so bad. In time it will just be a scar.” She comforts. Moving her hand away from your skin, leaving a scorch mark in its wake.

She grabs a bottle of liquor laid out next to all the other tools. Twisting the lid, the acrid smell of it reaches your nose. The unmistakable burning of vodka. She says something again but her words fall on deaf ears. A sudden stinging surges up your flesh. Burning through your nerves as she carelessly pours the alcohol onto your skin, flushing out any disease that might cling on. You cry as she wraps a towel around your ankle. The pressure doing nothing to stop your hyperventilating.

“Breath, you're alright.” Her gentle tone pierces through the pain. “Just a little longer.” Her pale eyes never leave yours as she holds the cloth tight to your skin. Talking you through the pain. 

“You’re doing so well.” She praises, watching your face bloom red. The pain is dull compared to the gentle way she looks up at you. With final praise, she takes the towel away. Revealing the cuts in your skin. It’s not so gruesome now that the dried blood is cleared.

“I’m not a child.” The words sound petulant even to you. Wiping the tears away you turn, staring into the fireplace. Out of the corners of your vision, you catch her grabbing the needle and thread. 

“No...But you certainly cry like one.” Her heady tone does not go unnoticed.

“Oh please.” Huffing you lean back on your arms, trying to make more space between you. Your knuckles must be white with how tight your grasp at the bedding beneath you. Twisting it in anticipation for what’s to come and glaring at the fireplace. Not allowing her to see the incensed frown on your face but still from below you can hear her snicker at you.

“This is going to hurt, cry all you need but stay still.” She warns, threading her needle. You turn back to see her holding the bottle towards you and without a thought you take it. The liquid burns your throat, distracting you from the way your insides flutter as your fingers brush against hers.

Tense silence settles over the room. You continue to drink through the first passes of the needle as it glides through the skin. The wound is still raw and each pass of the needle is a reminder of the metal jaws that did this to you. Of the excruciating explosion of. A flash of red that dulled soon after. This, however, was torturous, an unwavering pain with no end in sight. Nursing the bottle in hand, your eyes grow blurry as you attempt to hold back tears.

Instead, you try to find something else to focus on. A fixed point to occupy your mind. Looking down at her, you watch. Mind numb with spirits you fixate on the way her arms flex as she works. The light of the fire extenuating the veins snaking just beneath her skin. Moving in tandem with the way she painstakingly tends to you.

‘Sew.tie.cut.

‘Sew.tie.cut.’

‘Needle. Thread. Scissors.’

  She’s doing it on purpose you're sure. Flexing just so. Tensing her shoulders in a way that boils your blood. Showing off with the sole intent to turn your gaze. It’s distressing that someone could be so shameless. What’s even worse is that it's working. The pain of the needle dulls in comparison to the growing itch inside of you. The aching needs that you force down. Down, down, down. Deep beneath the surface but it bubbles up. Always trying to claw its way out of your skin. Your face contorts in frustration.

‘Too much to drink. That’s all.’

The thought passes and leaves as you bring the bottle up to your lips. Stoking the embers of impulsivity. Settling further into the plush mattress you absentmindedly spread your thighs further apart. You take no notice of your relaxed posture. Of the way your skirt sprawls with your legs or at least you don’t let yourself notice. No, the buzzing of your head stops that, but the predator beneath you is painfully alert. She sees every twitch of your fingers. The flush of your cheeks as you leer at her, completely unaware of yourself. Once again her gaze drifts to the jawbone dangling at your clavicle. 

“Don’t pout. Tell me, where did you get that?” She shifts from looking at you to back to her work.

“Huh?”  Your gaze snaps to hers. The sudden question pulls you from your reveries. Sheepishly set the bottle down. Trying to conceal it as if you’ve been caught.

“Your necklace. Where did you get it.” She clarifies, still absentmindedly stitching away. Needle. Thread. Scissors.

“Oh..my necklace.” Compulsively you grasp at the bone, rubbing your thumb along the indents of its teeth, dull from years of worrying it down. Holding it tight you think of how to answer her. What could you say? What is there to say at all? There are no words. Nothing meaningful enough to express everything this trinket holds dear. Patiently she waits, expecting something.

“A friend made it for me.” The words are nothing more than a whisper as fresh tears swell up. You can’t stand it. The guilt stabs through your heart. It won’t leave you even with another sip of the bottle. There’s silence that follows your statement and it is unbearable. It drapes the room in a cruel judgment. You try to focus on her hands again. Lip wobbling and eyes Squinting as the thread glides through your skin. Needle. Thread. Scissors. Blood coats the thick black string with each pass-through.

  ‘There was so much blood.’

“A friend?” She finishes the final stitch. Leaning down she takes the string in her mouth, cutting it with her teeth. Lips brushing against the skin. When she pulls back there’s blood smeared on her lips, gaze locked on yours all the while. 

“We were girls together… we…she..” You speak impulsively. Needing to bite your lip to control yourself. Unsure of what might tumble out next. The jawbone continues to dig into your palm. Feelings you haven’t touched in years bubble just beneath your skin. Twisting that knife inside of you.

She stares at you, mouth turned downwards in a frown. Pitying you from her spot on the floor. Yet it’s lost on you as you stare right through her. Buried memories swirling through your brain.Remember.That terrible voice rings like a bell in the back of your mind. You shouldn’t have drank so much, or maybe you should drink more.

‘It should have been you.’ 

You hardly feel the wrapping of a bandage around your stitches. Unable to pull yourself away from lamenting your past. Pulling the fabric taught she moves to caress your skin once again. Rough hands try to comfort you once again while she struggles for her own words. Her mask does not do much to hide the way she pities you. How her eyes crease with a sullen air, head tilting to the side. As if you’re some sad creature needing to be coddled. Wrapped up in her toned arms, nestled into her chest. You take another drink.

“You’re still wearing it.” She sounds surprised. Her words under her breath, not meant for you to hear.

“Of course I am.”  You’re almost offended. Why wouldn’t you still be wearing it? A part of you believed it wouldn’t come off if you tried. Brows furrowed, you watch as she rises from the floor. Touch lingering as she stretches to full height. 

“You will sleep here.” A soft spoken order. One that you have no objection to. Your head is spinning again. Fresh tears stain your cheeks as you sit leisurely on the bed, watching her clean up the bloody mess you left. Scarlet rags are shoved thoughtlessly back into the white tin. Bloody needle and silver scissors tucked into a bed of cotton roses. Then another sip from the bottle until her hand engulfs yours, stopping the glass from reaching your lips.

“You’ve had enough.” She scolds you and you're in just the right place to get mad.

“Don’t speak like you know me.” You look up at her creased in frustration. Not relinquishing your hold on the bottle. Instead pulling it closer, and in turn her. “Who even are you?”

“Who am I?” She asks sardonically. A threatening timber echoes off the walls. Her hand darts up, squeezing your cheeks. Digging her fingers into your flesh. While your grip on the bottle is rigid, hers is ironclad. Forcing you to crane your neck upwards. Her canines glint in the light as she sneers down at you.

“I am the Frost King.” She tilts your head, examining your reaction. Reveling in the way your face twists in fear. “Aren’t you warm, maiden?”

“The frost king?” You echo. A tale as old as the woods outside.

 ‘What is she saying? Is she making fun of me?’ 

Confusion fills your head as you try to understand but she doesn’t give you the time. Her grip from as she leans over you. Pushing you back into the bed. Her thighs sliding under yours as she makes room for herself, settling in between them. The fabric of your skirt bunches up against the coarse cloth of her pants. Leaving your bare legs hanging off her hips.

“My poor Zaya. Always so lost.” Her thumb brushes against your cheek. Wiping away your tears.

“What?” That name. Eyes widened with fear you try to claw at her arms, desperate to get her off. No one’s called you that since you were a child.

“Don’t call me that.” Your words are strained against her palm. Unable to speak properly as she keeps her steady grip on your face. With teeth bared in false intimidation, you try to squirm away from her. Twisting your hips against her, something that only has her pressing against you harder.

“Why not? It suits you so well.” She pushes your head deeper into the fur, your hair splayed out underneath you. 

“I remember you used to like it.” She’s whispering as a lover would, there’s a pleading in her voice. Desperate for you to understand, her grip on your face softens. 

“Remember…?” You repeat. Staring up at her just as desperate to understand, but you can’t. You don’t want to. 

Lips tremble as her fingers leave your face, tracing down the curve of your neck and your arm. She takes your wrists in her hand. Then guides you up towards her mask. Electricity shoots through your nerves as the wood meets the tip of your fingers.

“You know me.” She insists, eyes searching yours for recognition.

 The room stills as you take the mask in your hands. Everything falls into the aether. Only your breathing in tandem with hers disturbs the air. The two of you buzzing in anticipation. Tentatively you lift the mask. Slowly. So slowly. Afraid of what you’ll see. Of what lurks beneath the carved wood. A choked sob leaves your lips. You don’t think you’ve cried as much since that day.

“Anna?” The name is raw in your mouth. The scar on her lip cuts up her cheek, digging into the skin before it splinters across her face. Jagged lines reaching towards her ear, slicing a crescent around her eye. Her eyes. They’re sharper, focused but there’s no denying that they are hers. The same light gaze mirroring yours. Tears of her swelling in the corners but they don’t fall. Your fingers trace along her features. Taking in the roughness that she has grown into. 

She says your name. Softly. A wave of emotion crashes through her as she leans down, pressing her forehead against yours. Her hands holding yours in place, relishing in your touch.  Her breath warm on your cheeks and the memories that you’ve locked away burst forward. Hazy images of climbing trees and swimming in the river. Of kisses stolen in the rain. Blood on the snow. Gunpowder filling your senses. You’re finger holds her tighter, not ready for her fade away. Convinced that this specter will rip itself away from you once again. Her hands hold you tighter in kind.

“I’m here.” She reassures. Leaning down to rest her head in the crook of your neck. Her arms snake around your waist to hold you tighter. Curling into like a long lost pet.

“How?” You wrap your arms around her in turn. Grasping onto her shirt too tightly while you stare up at the ceiling. You press your cheek against her hair, taking in the scent of pine. She shakes her head at your question. Shushing you quietly before offering a soothing kiss at the pulse point of your neck. 

“It does not matter. You’ve come back to me.”

[ltash]

In the middle of the night pt-1

Your mom was dating Mr Riley, and you were staying as a guest in his house until Ghost decided to pay a visit.

Lots of slowburn in the chapter..

The quiet settled in like a heavy blanket, wrapping the room in a soft silence. You sat cross-legged in Mr. Riley's grand living room, surrounded by polished wood, high ceilings, and the kind of decor that whispered wealth and elegance in every corner. Your mother had only been dating him for a little over a month, but they'd already developed an easy bond. Colleagues by day, close friends after hours, their connection was undeniable. This was why you found yourself here tonight, waiting in his spacious home while they enjoyed a night out.

Dressed in a black jersey bodycon dress with a high, elegant turtleneck, you exuded sophistication. The diamond-studded Cuban link chain glistened against the neckline of your dress, catching the low lighting. You wore a matching bracelet, simple yet dazzling, a testament to your impeccable taste. Even sitting alone, you were the very picture of poise and confidence.

Absorbed in a magazine, you barely noticed how quiet the house had become. But the silence was suddenly interrupted by the sharp, unexpected sound of the doorbell cutting through the night. You frowned, glancing up from the page, your mind racing. It was late, and visitors at this hour were uncommon.

"Who could be here at this time?" You murmured to yourself.

Placing the magazine aside, you rose from the plush chair and made your way toward the front door. The heels of your shoes clicked softly against the gleaming marble floor, and you adjusted the bracelet on your wrist as you approached the entrance. With a quick exhale, you turned the handle and opened the door, just enough to peek through.

Your breath caught as you took in the figure before you. A man filled the doorway, towering and imposing, his frame seemingly carved from stone. He wore a black skull-printed balaclava that partially obscured his face, making his eyes stand out beneath the dim light. He was dressed casually, yet powerfully, with a leather jacket thrown over a fitted shirt and dark jeans that outlined the sinewy strength of his legs. He held the straps of a duffle bag tightly in his gloved hands, and his posture radiated a certain readiness, as if he were used to having his presence respected without question.

You straightened your posture, raising a brow as you crossed your arms over your chest, unphased, or at least giving a good impression of it.

"Who are you?" you asked sharply, infusing your voice with just the right amount of sass as you snapped your fingers for emphasis.

The man's eyes narrowed, a spark of amusement flickering in their depths, though he seemed more interested in studying you than answering. He remained silent for a beat too long, his gaze locked on yours, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, like he was quietly amused.

"The question is, who are you?" he replied, his voice a deep rumble that held a hint of challenge.

You raised an eyebrow, not intimidated. "I'm Mr. Riley's guest. My mom's his colleague, and they're dating. So, no offence, but you're out of luck if you were hoping to see him tonight. He's out," you replied smoothly. "So, you can come back another time."

You moved to close the door, dismissing him with ease. But before you could fully shut it, his hand shot out, catching the edge with a strength that made the door stop in place. Startled, you tried pulling it back, but his grip was unyielding.

"Hey, wait! What are you doing?" you protested, an edge of alarm creeping into your tone as he pushed the door open wider, stepping into the house with the ease of someone who belonged.

The door clicked shut behind him as he regarded you, his gaze assessing. He took another step forward, and you instinctively took a step back, feeling the cold marble beneath your heels. His imposing figure loomed over you, but he didn't move aggressively. Instead, he reached out, and before you could react, he gently yet firmly took hold of your jaw, his gloved fingers grazing your skin.

Your breath hitched as he turned your face from side to side, his eyes travelling over your features with a calculating interest. He looked almost amused, like he'd found something unexpected in this encounter.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" he chuckled softly, his voice low and edged with a kind of dark amusement that sent a shiver up your spine.

Heat flared in your cheeks, and you quickly slapped his hand away, taking a step back as you straightened your spine. You didn't let your composure falter, though your heart hammered in your chest.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" you demanded, voice fierce and unwavering despite the adrenaline pulsing through your veins. "You can't just walk in here and act like you own the place. Get out before I call the cops."

The threat seemed to amuse him further. He chuckled, a sound deep and rich, and shook his head. "Relax, sweetheart," he drawled, the British accent unmistakable as it rolled off his tongue. His words were smooth, yet edged with a casual danger that made you uneasy. "Mr. Riley is my old man. Thought I'd pay him a visit, but I see he's out... otherwise occupied."

Realization dawned, and you froze as his words settled in. Mr. Riley's son. Your mother had mentioned him a few times, always with a certain admiration for his military service, but his name and details had been kept a mystery. It seemed that mystery was very much by design.

You collected yourself quickly, determined not to show any hint of intimidation. "Alright," you said, working to keep your tone steady. "Well, he's not here, so if you're really his son, you can either leave and come back, or..."

But before you could finish, he took another step closer, his gaze sharp and unwavering. The playful glint in his eyes hadn't dimmed, but now it was mingled with a darker edge, something that made your pulse quicken.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice a low murmur as he held your gaze. His presence was suffocating yet magnetic, and the intensity of his stare made your heart beat even faster.

You clenched your jaw, lifting your chin defiantly. "Doesn't matter," you replied, voice laced with defiance. You weren't about to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he tilted his head as he regarded you, clearly entertained by your resistance. "Alright, then," he replied smoothly, a glint of amusement lingering in his eyes. "Guess I'll have to stick around a little longer, mystery girl. Nice to meet you."

He set the duffle bag down by his side, his gaze never leaving yours. It was clear that he had no intention of leaving anytime soon, and for the first time, you wondered just how long you might be sharing this empty house with the mysterious, dangerous son of Mr. Riley.

The tension in the room thickened as he sauntered over to the plush leather couch, his movements slow and deliberate. He dropped himself down with a relaxed confidence, sprawling across the cushions like he owned the place. His legs spread wide, his solid, muscular thighs straining against the fabric of his jeans. The pose was casual, but his eyes held an unmistakable glint of mischief. He was playing a game, daring you to react.

He leaned back, his arms draping across the back of the couch as he settled in, his gaze never leaving you. After a beat of silence, he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Guess you aren't hospitable enough to ask if I'd like a drink," he drawled, his voice heavy with mock reproach. "No tea or coffee? Do you treat all your guests this way, sweetheart?"

The words dripped with sarcasm, and his tone was pure challenge, his eyes gleaming as he watched for your reaction. He was provoking you, seeing if you'd take the bait. The casual nickname, the mocking edge-it was all designed to get under your skin, and he was clearly enjoying every second.

You felt a surge of heat rush to your face as you stood there, stunned at his nerve. The audacity of him! Not only had he barged into the house uninvited, but now he had the gall to make demands? You were tempted to put him in his place, but something about the intensity in his gaze, the easy confidence of his posture, made you hesitate. Despite the anger simmering beneath the surface, you couldn't help but feel the pull of his magnetic presence, that dangerous charm he wielded so effortlessly.

But you weren't about to let him see that. Squaring your shoulders, you folded your arms, levelling him with a glare.

"What the hell?" you snapped, eyes narrowed. "You barge in here uninvited, act like you own the place, and now you expect me to serve you like I'm some kind of maid?"

His smirk widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he held your gaze with an amused intensity. "Last I checked, I am family," he replied, his tone low, almost conspiratorial. "But maybe you're right. I might've overstepped. Or maybe..." His gaze dropped to the bracelet glinting on your wrist before returning to your face, "...you're just afraid you'll end up enjoying my company more than you think."

His voice was a deep, smooth murmur that sent a shiver up your spine despite every attempt you made to ignore it. He was playing with you, inching closer to see how you'd react, testing how far he could push.

The challenge in his words only fueled your defiance. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through you, sharpening your resolve. "You think too highly of yourself," you retorted, lifting your chin. "Just because you're Mr. Riley's son doesn't mean I owe you anything. You're just another rude stranger as far as I'm concerned."

His smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew sharper. He relaxed back into the couch, studying you with the quiet confidence of someone who wasn't used to being denied. There was something dangerous in his stare, but it was the kind of danger that drew you in rather than repelled you.

"Maybe," he said, after a pause. "But there's one thing you should know about me, sweetheart." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, almost predatory whisper. "I don't take 'no' for an answer easily. Especially not when I've found something I'm... interested in."

The meaning was clear, but so was the hint of intrigue in his tone. His gaze lingered on you, a subtle but undeniable challenge glinting in his eyes, daring you to react.

You felt your pulse quicken, a rush of both anger and something else you couldn't quite name stirring inside you. You weren't about to let him win, but part of you wondered if you were playing a game you didn't fully understand.

"Then maybe it's time you learned to," you replied, holding his gaze with equal intensity. "Because I don't plan on humouring your attitude any longer."

His laugh was soft but genuine, like he was thoroughly enjoying the back-and-forth. "You've got fire," he remarked, tilting his head slightly as if he were sizing you up, as if you were an unexpected surprise in a familiar game. "I like that."

The intensity in the air was almost tangible, like a taut wire stretched between you, sparking with every word, every look. His gaze softened just slightly, enough to reveal a hint of interest that went beyond simple amusement.

"I think I'll stick around a while," he said finally, settling further into the couch, still holding your gaze with that infuriatingly calm confidence. "Mr. Riley isn't back yet, after all. And besides..." His eyes travelled over you slowly, his smile widening as he took in the faint flush on your cheeks. "...something tells me the night just got a lot more interesting."

You stood there, torn between frustration and intrigue, watching the smirk dance on his lips. He wasn't going anywhere. That much was clear. And even though you wanted to resist every bit of his smug charm, there was something about the way he looked at you, the ease with which he held his ground, that was both maddening and thrilling.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your chin defiantly, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. "Fine," you said. "If you're staying, then you're on your own. I'm not getting you anything."

"Suit yourself," he replied, his smirk never faltering. He leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of the couch once more, settling in as if he'd just won some unspoken game. And as you turned on your heel, heading back to the chair you'd abandoned, you could feel his gaze on you, lingering, unrelenting, and full of promise for a night that was only beginning.

You watched, incredulous, as he pushed himself up from the couch and sauntered past you, his shoulders brushing close as he moved toward the kitchen. He had the same easy confidence, the same smugness, that had set your nerves on edge since the moment he walked through the door. You were rooted to the spot for a moment, caught between surprise and annoyance as you watched him open cupboards, pulling out plates and rummaging through the contents of the fridge as if he owned the place.

He moved with practised ease, grabbing some bread, deli meat, and cheese, and setting it all on the counter. With a small smirk, he began assembling a sandwich, and when he reached over to flick the switch on the electric kettle, you couldn't stay silent any longer.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice laced with disbelief as you crossed your arms and shot him a withering glare.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression completely unbothered, that irritating glint of amusement still present in his eyes. "Can't you see?" he replied smoothly, his tone mocking as he sliced a piece of bread. "You didn't bother to offer me anything, so the guest must help himself."

The way he said it, like it was a perfectly reasonable response, made your frustration bubble over. "Are you for real?" You shot back, rolling your eyes in exasperation. "Look, dude, come what may, I'm not about to offer you a single drop of water. Make your sandwich and be done with it."

He let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained by your irritation. "Such hospitality," he murmured, shaking his head as he spread a thin layer of mustard over the bread. "You must be a real joy to live with."

"Luckily for you, you don't live with me," you snapped, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, unwilling to let him get away with his smugness. "I don't owe you anything, and I don't have to wait on your hand and foot just because you waltzed in here unannounced."

He took a slow sip of the tea he'd just poured, his eyes narrowing in challenge as he met your gaze over the rim of the cup. "True," he said, setting the cup down with a clink. "But there's something called common courtesy. Or have you always been this spoiled?"

You felt a spark of anger at his words, your cheeks heating as you straightened your posture. "Spoiled? You're one to talk! You just invited yourself in, started acting like you own the place, and now you're standing in the kitchen, making demands like I'm your personal chef."

He shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich as he leaned against the counter, utterly unperturbed. "I figured you'd offer me something eventually," he replied, giving a lazy smile that only fueled your annoyance further. "But since you didn't, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Besides..." He let his gaze travel over you, assessing a hint of that dark humour still glinting in his eyes. "...I've dealt with far more difficult situations than this. A little attitude doesn't scare me."

Your mouth opened in a mixture of disbelief and indignation. "Unbelievable," you muttered, throwing your hands up. "I swear, you're the most arrogant, self-entitled-"

Before you could finish, he held up a finger, silencing you with a cool, almost teasing expression. "Temper, temper," he chided softly, his voice like a warning wrapped in silk. "It's not becoming of such a... polished young lady, now is it?"

The deliberate condescension in his tone, the way he seemed to be enjoying every flicker of irritation you showed, only fueled your frustration. You felt trapped in his gaze, unable to look away as he took another bite of his sandwich, his movements maddeningly calm, as if he were watching an amusing spectacle.

"Maybe if you weren't so infuriating," you replied icily, "I wouldn't be so annoyed. Ever think of that?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as if you'd missed some joke. "I'm simply getting to know my father's... interesting house guest," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine despite your best efforts. "But if you'd rather be alone, sweetheart, just say the word. I'll leave you to your magazine and quiet little life."

The comment struck a nerve, and you glared back at him, your voice sharp. "You're making a lot of assumptions, aren't you?"

His expression didn't waver, though his gaze softened slightly, just enough to hint at something unreadable beneath the surface. "Maybe," he murmured, leaning in slightly, his voice barely more than a whisper as he held your gaze. "But I'm rarely wrong."

The words hung in the air between you, charged with a tension that felt almost tangible. For a moment, you weren't sure whether to keep arguing or walk away, but something in his expression, in the intensity of his stare, made it hard to pull back. It was as if he was daring you, testing just how much resolve you had.

You finally tore your gaze away, clenching your fists as you fought to regain your composure. "Fine," you said, your voice calm but edged with steel. "Do whatever you want. Just don't expect me to roll out the red carpet."

With that, you turned on your heel, determined to put some distance between you and the arrogant, infuriating man who seemed to take pleasure in pushing every one of your buttons. But as you walked away, you could still feel his eyes on you, a lingering gaze that held a promise of more to come, leaving you both unsettled and strangely intrigued.

Frustrated and flustered, you had stormed off down the hallway, letting the silence of the empty house settle around you as you tried to cool down. Your footsteps slowed as you came to a door at the end of the hall, its dark wood polished and imposing. Without really thinking, you pushed it open, stepping into a room bathed in deep shades of charcoal and black, the walls and furnishings exuding a quiet, masculine elegance.

A faint scent lingered in the air-something earthy and clean, almost intoxicating. The heavy curtains were drawn partway, allowing a sliver of moonlight to spill across the room, illuminating the sleek, minimal decor. A large bed, neatly made with dark grey sheets, stood in the centre, flanked by matching nightstands. You found yourself inexplicably drawn to the space, its quiet allure enveloping you as you wandered in.

Before you knew it, you'd settled onto the edge of the bed, your fingers absently tracing the texture of the comforter. The room was strikingly different from the rest of the house, yet it somehow felt familiar. You took a deep breath, letting the stillness calm your racing thoughts, a sense of privacy washing over you that you hadn't felt all evening.

Then, footsteps. Heavy, confident, each step resonating through the floor. Your pulse quickened as you glanced up, only to see him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of you sitting on his bed.

"Hey!" You blurted, standing up hastily. "You can't just come in here."

He smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his gaze unwavering as he crossed his arms. "Why not?" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This is my bedroom. I can come here anytime I want."

Your heart skipped a beat, caught between defiance and the sudden realization that you'd accidentally wandered into his personal space. Before you could respond, he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The sound seemed to echo, and suddenly, the room felt smaller, the air charged with a tension that made you instinctively take a step back.

"Didn't expect you to make yourself so... comfortable," he remarked, his gaze flicking to the bed you'd been sitting on just moments before.

"It was an accident," you muttered, feeling a flush rise in your cheeks. "I didn't know this was your room."

He shrugged, clearly enjoying the effect his presence had on you. "Doesn't seem like you're in any hurry to leave."

His casual tone, his easy smirk-it all made you want to throw something, but you stood your ground, determined not to let him see how he was getting under your skin. "Maybe I just wanted some peace and quiet," you shot back, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent an unexpected warmth through you. Without another word, he shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall over the back of a nearby chair. His movements were slow, deliberate, and as he reached down to untie his boots, the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders, emphasizing every powerful line of muscle beneath. You felt your mouth go dry, and you quickly looked away, your pulse pounding in your ears as you tried to ignore the heat that crept up your neck.

When he finally straightened, he met your gaze, his eyes sharp and knowing, as if he'd caught every flicker of reaction you were so desperately trying to hide. He took a step closer, and despite yourself, you felt rooted to the spot, your resolve wavering as he closed the distance between you.

"Seems like you're having a hard time keeping your cool," he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing.

You crossed your arms defensively, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. "You're imagining things," you replied, though even you could hear the slight unsteadiness in your voice.

He arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Am I?"

He was close now, close enough that you could see the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes held that glint of challenge you'd come to both dread and anticipate. His presence filled the room, demanding your attention, and despite everything, you found yourself drawn to him, caught between the urge to push him away and the inexplicable pull he seemed to have on you.

"Maybe I'm imagining things," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and intense. "Or maybe you're just not as unaffected as you pretend to be."

You swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of his gaze like a physical weight. You wanted to fire back with something sharp, something that would deflate his confidence, but the words caught in your throat as he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His fingers lingered for just a moment, the warmth of his touch igniting a spark that left you breathless.

He leaned in slightly, his voice a murmur against your ear. "You know, you can walk out anytime," he said, his tone laced with that infuriating challenge.

The words jolted you, breaking the spell as you took a step back, forcing a shaky laugh. "Don't flatter yourself," you managed, though your voice was a bit weaker than you'd have liked. "I'm leaving right now."

You turned to head for the door, but you felt his gaze on you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if he already knew that you weren't unaffected, that maybe he'd left an impression deeper than you wanted to admit.

As you reached for the door handle, you barely had time to react before his hand closed around your arm, pulling you back toward him with a firm, unyielding grip. The movement was swift, almost instinctual, and before you knew it, you'd collided against the solid warmth of his chest. The impact left you momentarily breathless, the feel of his strength pressing against you, making your pulse race.

You looked up, your face mere inches from his, your breath catching as your gaze met his intense, unyielding stare. The amusement and mockery that had marked his expression earlier were gone, replaced by something deeper, something that sent a thrill through you even as you tried to resist it.

"Let go of me," you managed, though your voice was quieter than you intended, barely more than a whisper.

His hold didn't loosen. If anything, his fingers tightened slightly around your arm, his other hand moving to rest against the small of your back, anchoring you to him as if daring you to pull away.

"Funny," he murmured, his voice a low, dark rumble that sent a shiver through you. "You're the one who wandered into my room. And now you're trying to leave so quickly?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died on your lips as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The nearness of him, the way his hand pressed against your back, steady and possessive, was dizzying. You could feel the rapid beat of your own heart, the conflicting impulses to push him away, and to pull him even closer, warring within you.

"You act like you're annoyed," he continued softly, his gaze never leaving yours. "But something tells me you don't really want me to let go."

A rush of defiance surged through you, but the intensity of his gaze, the magnetic pull between you, made it impossible to look away. Every nerve felt heightened, every sense attuned to him, his presence surrounding you, consuming you. You could feel his grip relax just slightly, his fingers still resting on your arm as if waiting, letting you decide if you wanted to stay or if you would pull away.

For a moment, you just stood there, suspended in that charged silence, your heart pounding, your breath shallow. The logical part of you screamed to walk out of the room to end whatever this was before it spiralled further out of control. But something deeper held you there, drawn to him, as if you were caught in a current too powerful to escape.

Finally, you found your voice, your defiance flickering even as your resolve wavered. "You really think you know everything, don't you?"

A slow, confident smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his hand shifted slightly, brushing the bare skin of your arm in a way that sent a shiver racing through you. "I know enough," he replied softly, his tone both a challenge and an invitation.

In that moment, standing in the shadows of his room, the world outside felt far away, and all that mattered was the electric tension between you, the unspoken possibilities lingering in the air.

You narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin up defiantly, meeting his intense gaze with a glare of your own. "What, you think I'm just going to let you win?" You hissed, the challenge clear in your voice. You could feel your heart pounding as the tension between you thickened, crackling like a storm ready to break.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, that confident, maddening expression that made you both furious and drawn to him all at once. He leaned in, his gaze never wavering, his eyes dark with something that sent a thrill through you despite your best efforts to ignore it.

"I always win," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the air around you, "all my wars, all my battles. So you'd better decide to lose it, sweetheart. Makes it easier that way."

The words hung heavy in the air, a promise and a warning all at once, and the closeness between you felt even more charged. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his grip still light on your arm, as if daring you to test his resolve. There was a glint in his eyes, that subtle edge of challenge that sparked something fierce within you-a determination not to let him have the last word, not this time.

"Maybe you haven't met your match yet," you replied, your voice steady, though the quickening of your pulse betrayed the thrill his words had sparked.

He chuckled softly, the sound dark and rich, and leaned in just a bit closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Careful," he whispered, his voice like silk, his gaze never leaving yours. "You might find that losing isn't as bad as you think."

The moment he removed the mask, your breath hitched. His face, so impossibly handsome, so raw in its intensity, made your heart skip a beat. The lines of his jaw were sharp, defined, and his eyes were dark, smouldering with a predatory gleam that sent a rush of heat through your entire body. His gaze locked onto yours, a silent understanding passing between you as his smirk deepened.

For the first time, you felt that guard of yours slip away, crumbling under the weight of his presence. Everything you had told yourself about pushing him away, keeping your distance, fell apart in the face of his undeniable allure.

He leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, sending a wave of warmth that made it harder to breathe. His lips were so close, just inches from yours, and his words, low and taunting, slid like velvet into your ears.

"Just give in to me," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "I'll show you the height of forbidden pleasures. I'll worship your body all night long, make you scream my name all night."

You could feel his breath hot against your ear, and before you could stop yourself, his teeth grazed your earlobe. The sensation was electric. Your knees buckled, your body betraying you as a soft gasp of pleasure escaped your lips, your pulse hammering in your ears.

The air between you grew thick, charged with tension, as if the entire room held its breath. The power dynamic shifted, and for a moment, you felt as though you were at his mercy, your body responding to him in ways you hadn't anticipated. You could hardly think straight, the heat of his touch, the way his words wrapped around you, making everything else fade into the background.

But even as your body reacted, as your breath grew faster and your mind swirled with desire, something inside you still fought. You couldn't just give in. Not like this. Not so easily.

"Stop," you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, a poor attempt at defiance. You placed a hand on his chest, but it was more out of instinct than strength, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "You're playing with fire," you whispered, though a part of you wasn't sure if you were still trying to warn him or yourself.

His grin only widened as if he'd expected this, as if this moment of resistance only fueled the desire to break down every last wall you had left.

"We'll see who gets burned, sweetheart," he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your neck, sending another shiver through your body.

You were intoxicated, already succumbing and losing the battle you weren't even meant to fight.

[alienoresimagines]

Omg “classics” for clegan plsssss 🥺

classics - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary

So. This fic may have gotten out of a hand and may or may not be 14.5k, 7k of which are them making out and smutting 😅 So Nonnie, if you'd like a redo of the prompt with really 100% h/c and fluff, send me another ask and I'll keep it general audience, I promise 🥹❤️ Also a huge shoutout to @soliloquy-dawn for single handedly beating the slump out of me for this fic, I was stuck on 4k for three weeks and then wrote 10k in one, for which I also have to thanks all my fellow sprinters on Discord🥹🫶🏻 And, a happy birthday to @amiserableseriesofevents !!! Thank you for all the wounderful fics you constantly post, the countless sprints you do with me, I wish you all the good in the world ���� Consider this my humble gift for an amazing person celebrating another year of life ❤️ This is my first time writing an actual smut so I'm really nervous about this one lmao but I hope you'll like it 👉🏻👈🏻🥹

Tell Me You're Going To Be Alright (I Don't Want The World To Turn Without You) | Buck x Bucky

Summary : Perhaps life really only started when he opened the door to his room in flight school and shook hands with Gale Cleven. Perhaps the twenty-four years before that were only to learn how his legs and arms worked to get him to this moment, where he learned how his heart did. Or After the Regensburg Mission, John cannot forget just how close he came to losing Gale forever. He copes how he can, tending to Gale's wounds, and holding him when the adrenaline leaves him and Gale can't keep up the officer façade anymore. He lets Gale take care of the cuts that adorned his face even though John had forgotten them. And then, when all the wounds have been treated, desperation to feel just how alive the other still is settles in, like a wildfire of urgency that not even the presence of their men a few feet away can soothe.

Snippet :

“You did so good, darlin’,” his lips attach themselves to Gale’s temple as another one of those broken noises pierces through his soul. “Brought your boys to safety the best way you could.” He thinks of the mangled body of a radioman and how easily it could’ve been Gale. Tightens his hold until there’s no telling where one of them begins and where the other ends. 

“You did so, so good, Gale.” He keeps on whispering in Gale’s ear, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and pressing kisses anywhere he can reach until Gale isn’t shaking as much anymore, tremors receding and replaced by a heavy blanket of exhaustion that sends him further into John’s chest. John doesn’t budge, stays rooted to his spot like the old oak tree in his mother’s garden, sheltering the house from rain and storms. 

Minutes later, Gale shifts and clears his throat, the sound dulled by John's shirt before he starts to pull away. John’s heart screams and thrashes with wanting to bring him closer once again, but he knows better than to force Gale to lose control, knows the other is probably ashamed that he felt the need to be comforted. The anger simmering in his blood at that is cold and familiar enough for John to ignore it, preferring instead to stroke his thumb back and forth over Gale's cheekbone. A light smile pulls at his lips when Gale leans into the touch, a sigh leaving him as he nuzzles his cheek against John’s palm, as though the space has been carved just for him- John is certain it’s the case.

Read more here

My other Clegan Fics

[keeksandgigz]

i don't want you like a best friend- day 2 of keeks's lover house series

Day 2 of my Lover House series♡

♡Best Friend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader♡

best friends to lovers, painful pining, idiots in love, queer!eddie mentioned, smut, you've heard the song

Read Day 1 here!

"Carve your name into my bedpost/ 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend"

You thought Eddie had no clue of the feelings you harbored for him.

Since high school you've been pining for your best friend. Every car ride, every smoke session in his room, every concert you've gone together. Every single time you helped him haul equipment on and off his van. You've been in love with him for the past six years.

However, when he asks you to be his plus one at Steve's wedding it doesn't shock you. You were his date to proms, homecomings and various events-- there was no Eddie without you and vice versa.

This time seems different, though, as the end of the night was fast approaching. You sit at one of the tables, fumbling with the buckle of your shoes, trying yo get rid of the painful sting at the back of your heel.

Eddie follows you back from the dance floor to the table. Having shed the jacket of his suit and his tie, he's left with the top three buttons undone, and his frizzy hair tied up in a low bun as his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead.

He looks so effortlessly beautiful you can't help but try to hold back from jumping his bones. An activity you've gotten way too good at-- holding back.

He kneels on the floor, seeing you struggle with the buckle as he takes your ankle in his hand.

"Lemme do it" he says over the loud music "are your feet hurting?" the touch of his hands on the skin of your ankle makes you shiver. You nod.

"You lemme know when you wanna head back to the hotel room, I'll come with" he smiles, leaving a sweet caress on the arch of your foot. You're used to this.

The touching, the caresses. It's just how he is. Touchy.

When his hand seems to linger too much on your leg when you watch movies together at your apartment, or when you seem to be too tucked into his chest when walking down the street, his arm around your shoulders.

It drives you up a wall, he seems to always get too close. Unconscious to the idea that maybe, just maybe...

"You know what, Ed? I'm going up, I'll go say goodnight to Steve and go" you smile at him, pitter pattering your way across the dance floor, where Steve and his bride are still in the happy throes of love as he spins her around and they laugh in unison.

Eddie watches you, hips swaying with every step you take. That dress has been driving him insane all night. Dark green, tight around your hips. Multiple times in the span of the night he's had to subtly conceal his boner from the way you were dancing on him. The cocktails at the open bar getting into your system.

And there you are again, turning his brain to mush, seeing how your dress hugs you so perfectly. So he follows you like a little puppy dog, hoping to get to see more of you. Hoping you'll ask for his help in undoing your zipper as you get ready for bed.

"Tonight was fun" you sigh, walking towards your room "I think we're next, Ed" you elbow him, eyebrows raising suggestively.

"Do I have a girlfriend or boyfriend I don't know about?" he snickers, running an arm around your shoulders- God, you're so soft.

"Well, no. But you better get working on it, we're not getting any younger" you smile at him "I won't start looking 'til you do, loverboy" you laugh, still in a tipsy stupor.

You take out your key and open the door to your room.

"Need me to stay with you?" he gives you one of his pretty boy smiles. The ones that make your stomach flutter with confused butterflies.

"You don't have to, but you're welcome in if you want to. I'll just change in the bathroom" he follows you in as you rummage through your suitcase to find your toiletries.

"Don't change yet. That dress cost you a fortune, don't you want to enjoy it?" he just can't get enough of you in the dress, the green velvet hugging your body like it was made for you. Like you came out of his wildest dreams.

An awkward laugh escapes you "'kay, so what should I do then?" you lean on the dresser, crossing your arms. Your tits push up at the motion. He feels himself stir in his slacks as he pats down the spot next to him on the bed.

You sit down, body turned towards him. "What is it?" your heart thrums within your chest. The touchiness isn't unusual, but the tension that fills the room seems different. Almost like an invisible electricity.

"What if I didn't have to look?" his hand moves closer to yours, fingertips barely touching. You take a ragged breath in.

"I'm not sure what you're saying, Eddie" your hand scooches closer to his. He feels the softness of your fingers. He wonders if you're this soft everywhere.

"I don't have to look for someone to be with. No one's going to be you" you feel like your breath has been knocked out of your lungs "and I know you feel the same, so can we please stop it with the act and kiss already" you feel dizzy, hands shaking on top of his, fingers lightly entwined.

He feels the trembling in your hand as he envelops it with his. Your face feels hot.

"How'd you-" you begin, his free hand goes to your cheek, cupping. His thumb stroking the skin, moving the hair that falls on your face away from it.

"You've never been a master of subtlety, sweetheart" he smiles, his lips so close to yours you can smell the tequila shots on his breath. Breath that you're currently out of. The hand on your cheek makes a minimal movement, your lips meeting on impact.

And it's like a dam has been broken. Years of pining, waiting, jealousy, end here. Eddie's tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at your bottom lip, as a moan slips out of you. A moan you've been holding in along with all the breath you had.

You get more bold with each swipe of his tongue, opening your mouth up for him to give him more access. Your hands reach up to the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly making your way down each eyelet, revealing his milky skin smattered with black ink.

"I've been wanting to get that dress of of you since you got in the car this morning" he nips at your bottom lip, moving down to leave open mouthed kiss down the column of your neck.

A breathless moan falling from your lips as he reaches for the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders.

He reaches under the slit of your dress, you gasp at his actions, still trying to convince yourself that this is real. That what is happening is not just another stupid dream.

Caressing the side of your thigh, he bunches up the velvet of her dress around your hips, your hands trapped in Eddie’s hair as you let breathless gasps escape you.

“You like me touching you?” he asks, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass, it’s getting all so much already, with a whine you lean your forehead on his shoulder.

“Hey, no, look at me” he grabs your face gingerly, letting your eyes meet "I've been waiting to see you like this. I need to see you" and in the shushed whispers it's like you're not even in a hotel room anymore.

He's created your own universe, where the perfection of your bodies, hands, fingers, breaths intertwined, they're everything that matters for a brief moment in time.

Eddie reaches behind your back, feeling around for the zipper of your dress. You hold a breath in, briefly overtaken by a strange feeling. He's never seen you like this.

"It's okay, it's just me" it's almost like he senses your unease in the air, placing a chaste kiss to your shoulder, like a soothing balm for your heart. The zipper begins to go down, its buzzing fills the room, a ticking clock for what's about to happen.

"I can't believe we waited this long" he says with bated breath, as you get the dress of of you "you're so gorgeous" he mumbles against the skin of your wrist placing an open mouthed kiss there.

Your heart thrums, you want to answer him, you want to say that you've loved him since high school, you've played the waiting game and the reward was right in front of you. Instead you just whimper as Eddie lays you down, reaching a hand in between your legs. You stop him immediately.

"I need you right now. I'm ready" you urge feverishly, you feel hot, a burning need to get close to him. Feeling like you might die if you don't feel him sink into you right this instant.

He smiles. Understanding, maybe a little cocky as he chuckles and leans back, undoing the belt of his slacks, finally letting his cock spring free, after a whole day of suffocating confinement.

Your mouth hangs open, murmuring your name against the skin of your abdomen, your chest, placing a kiss on each of your breasts, then mouthing at your neck.

"Ready?" he looks at you for any trace of hesitation, a pinch in your eyebrows that says this is a mistake, but there's only relief, almost like you'd been waiting too long for this. Years of pining could have easily ended much earlier, Eddie's been waiting as much as you have. Too much of a pussy to do anything about it, thinking he was way out of your league.

He tosses those thoughts aside, he has you now, ready and waiting under him. Nodding eagerly to let himself inside you, without wasting a moment.

And when he does, your eyebrows pinch together, but there's relief in your eyes, as you both begin to rock back and forth on the soft mattress. Small whimpers escaping you, grabbing at Eddie's neck for support.

"I've been wanting you like this since our senior prom, Eddie" you mumble, and he feels like an idiot, because he's never connected the dots. His heart hurts for the time you lost, but you lightly take his hand into yours- a silent "you have me now."

With every thrust, he sees your eyes roll back in bliss, letting out the sweetest noises he's ever heard. And he knows it, then, that he wants to keep you forever.

He mumbles your name again, and every time he does, you tighten around him. The world seems to stop for a moment as he chants it like a prayer. Kneeling at the neglected altar of your body, silently begging for forgiveness in his prayer.

But everyone of his wrongdoings seems to be washed away with every moan and whine, your pitch getting higher with every thrust. Eddie speeds up, feeling himself getting closer with a twang of embarrassment. It should have lasted longer.

"'I'm close" you whisper, gripping onto his shoulders, his back, anywhere your hands can grip him, not wanting to let him go. He keeps his pace, noticing a small sliver of tears at your waterline.

When you come undone with a silent scream, biting at his shoulder to not make noise, he follows you soon, spilling himself inside of you with a low groan.

His forehead comes into contact with yours, breathing against you, letting the rise and fall of his chest match yours. Regulating himself before detaching himself from you.

His hand keeps holding on to yours, as you drink in the moment, not wanting to let it escape from your fingertips.

He turns towards you with a smile "So I guess we're next then?"

Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is so incredibly appreciated!

Day 3 is 1989! Fill out the form Here

tagging some people: @strangerstilinski, @taintedcigs, @melodymunson, @reidsbtch, @eddies-house, @eddiesxangel, @lavendermunson, @xxhellfirebunnyxx

[truedove]

belladonna

word count - 2,076

content - smut (minors dni), porn with some plot, f!reader insert, oral (f recieving)

two hours. it’s been two fucking hours since you left and he’s this close to losing his mind. he’s sure he’s worn a path into the carpet with his restless pacing, his stomach a tight knot of anxiety. he’s never felt this level of panic before, like his heart is trying to claw its way out of his chest. the ache in his being is unbearable, like someone has taken a dull knife and carved out his insides. he can't even think straight; his thoughts are a jumbled mess of what-ifs and whys.

fuck, this is so stupid. he doesn’t even remember what you two fought about. all he remembers is that your pretty face had been etched into a frown, lips pressed into a thin line, and the barely concealed hurt in your eyes that made him want to die. he should have just apologized, should have just said something. anything to make you stay. but no, he had to be stubborn, had to dig his heels in deeper. and now look at him, a pathetic mess in his empty apartment, unable to function without you.

space. you said you needed space. from him. like hell he was going to give you that. how could he, when all he wanted was to crawl out of his skin and into yours?

well, it's been two hours, he thinks you've had plenty of space by now. with that thought in mind, he grabs his shoes, pockets his keys, and heads out the front door.

the entire walk, he forces himself to keep his head empty, clear. less he starts to fucking panic. again.

not ten minutes later, he's standing outside your apartment door, his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage. now that he’s actually here, he feels a bone deep sense of dread wash over him. what if you don't want to see him? what if you've decided you finally had enough of him and his shit? his palms begin to sweat and his clenched fist trembles as he lifts it to knock on the door, frantically, desperately willing you to open it.

the door swings open on his tenth (twentieth?) knock, and relief washes over him as your face appears in the crack. despite the frown marring your features, his heart soars at the sight of you.

“hey.” he rasps, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, taking in every detail of your face as if he’s forgotten since you left him, as if you could ever fade from his memory.

you utter his name, then take a deep, fortifying breath, as if you were begging yourself to be calm.

“what part of space do you not understand?” your voice is quiet, laced with a hint of frustration.

his brows furrow, confused marring his face, that neither party are sure is real or not.

“i did give you space, honey.” he says, like it’s obvious, like you should have known he wouldn't be able to stay away.

your pretty eyes narrow as you stare at him in disbelief.

“it’s been an hour.” you grit out his name between clenched teeth incredulously.

fuck, if he doesn’t love it when you says his name, even when you're so clearly pissed at him.

“it’s been two hours, actually.” he corrects, sounding much too like the man you left behind just an hour—sorry—two hours ago. he just can’t help it, he’s a dick right down to his core.

“honey,” he cuts off what would surely be another scathing retort from you, judging by the way your frown deepened, adorable really. “you asked for space, i gave it to you. now, can i come in or not?”

he flashes his charming signature smirk, the one that always seems to melt your insides. but you don't even so much as crack a smile.

“not.” your voice is sharper than he's ever heard it. he nearly flinches, his cocky smile faltering, even feels a pang of guilt for making you so upset. “you can’t just be a total jerk and then expect me to just take you back with open arms!” you harshly whisper, even in your anger not wanting to disturb the neighbors.

he lets out a heavy sigh, knowing what he needs to do. he doesn’t understand why it’s so hard for him to just fucking apologize, to admit he was wrong. it feels like admitting defeat, and he doesn't do that. never in his goddamn life, has he ever admitted defeat. but this isn't about him, it's about you. he fucked up and if he doesn’t want to lose you, he needs to fix it.

so, he sucks it up and forces the words past his lips.

“i’m sorry.” the words taste like ash in his mouth, but he forces them out, unable to meet your eyes as he speaks. he can feel your stare burning a hole through his face, but he refuses to look. he can't look. not right now.

he hears a sigh, followed by the longest damn silence in the history of ever. it's deafening. his heart begins to pound in his chest, dread gripping him tighter by the second. he forces himself to keep his gaze trained on the carpet beneath his feet.

“i don’t know..” it’s barely a whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “i just..” your voice trails off and it’s then that he looks up, see’s the conflicted look on your face and his heart clenches in his chest. he hates that he put that look there, hates that he can't do anything to take it away. he hates, hates, hates that he fucked up so bad.

he apologizes a second time, followed by a low utterance of your name. it’s rare that he actually calls you by your given name and not some cheesy pet name, but in this moment, he needs you to know he means it.

“fuck, i…i didn't mean to hurt you. you’ve gotta know that, right?” his usually rough voice is softer now, pleading almost as he steps further into your space, desperation clawing at his chest. you can’t leave him. you can’t.

you attempt to protest as he forces his way into the threshold of your apartment but you’re cut off from the shock of his lips on yours. he kisses you hard, possessively, your teeth clicking together in his eagerness. he groans against your mouth, his tongue sweeping in to to taste you, claim you, to remind you of how good you two are together.

“'need you. fuck, i need you, honey.” a large hand tangles in your hair, not-so-gently pulling your head back so he can look into your eyes, his own pleading with you to understand. “i don't know what i'd do without you, baby. you know that, right? you know i'd be lost without you?” his words come out in a rush, desperate and rough, as if he can't get the words out fast enough.

you let out a breathy sigh of his name, unwilling to relent just yet. even as your body responds to his touch, your heart is still unsure. sensing your indecision, he wastes no time in trying to sway you further. his other hand finds its way under your shirt, tracing lazy circles over your back, teasing the skin at the small of your back with his touch. he presses his mouth to yours again, the cold metal on his tongue sliding against yours, tickling and teasing. you gasp into his mouth, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the sensation, much to your annoyance.

a smirk tugs unwittingly at his lips as he feels you begin to respond to his touch, your body softening against his. he grabs a handful of your bum, pressing his stiff cock against your front and groaning into your mouth.

“see what you fucking do to me, honey? see how much I want you? you're it for me, you know?” he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, to convey the depth of his need for you. his pupils are dilated, eclipsing the hue of his irises.

you bite your bottom lip and he can see the indecision in your eyes, the internal struggle playing out before his very own. your fingers clutch loosely at his shirt, not pushing him away but not embracing him either.

he could work with that, though. he continues to push his luck, his hand giving your bum a firm squeeze before moving up to cup your breast through your shirt, his thumb flicking lazily over the stiff peak of your nipple through the fabric. a soft, plaintive sound escapes you, and his smirk widens.

"i'm sorry," he murmurs into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. he's earnest, can't you feel it? the desperation in his touch, the way his fingers dig into you like he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go? "i'm so fucking sorry."

when he can see you still aren't fully budging, he decides he'll just have to show you just how sorry he is.

his hands drop down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he lifts you off the ground. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your body melding into his, and he takes that as a sign to keep going. he navigates your apartment, heading straight for your bedroom, his mouth growing more demanding as he goes.

no matter how much you try to hold onto your anger, the way he kisses you, the way he touches you, it makes your resentment melt away piece by piece and is instead replaced by a fiery need that you hadn’t realized you had missed so much until now. his mouth is liquid poison and you are willingly letting him in, letting him devour you. he knows it too, can tell by the way your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes glaze over when he touches you like he owns you. and he does, doesn’t he? no one else has ever had the power to make you feel like this, like you’re simultaneously coming apart at the seams and fitting perfectly into place.

his hands are everywhere, touching you in ways that make you squirm, make you ache, make you want more. you can feel the bulge of his erection pressing against your stomach and it's all you can do not to grind against him. your legs tighten around his waist and you let out a soft whine when he finally breaks the kiss to lay you down onto your bed.

"look at you, baby." he drops to his knees and kisses along the juncture of your thighs, eyeing the apex of your legs with hunger. "this all for me?"

you're too hazy to grant him a response but your body seems to have a mind of its own as it arches into his touch, your back bowing off the bed. he takes it as the invitation it is, his hands moving to unbutton your jeans and tug them down your legs, leaving them in a heap on the floor. your underwear quickly follows, leaving you bare from the waist down before him. he runs his thumb along the seam of your cunt, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit. the touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, making your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your head.

he grins wolfishly at your reaction, the smugness in his expression telling you just how much he loves watching you come undone for him. he wastes no time in burying his face between your thighs, his tongue flicking against your clit, the sensation making you plead and whine for him. he sucks and nibbles at the sensitive bud, his tongue delving into your folds, lapping up the sweetness of your arousal like a starved man. fuck, if he didn't miss this, the way your thighs quiver and your hands tangle in his hair as he works his magic on you. it might have only been some number of hours since you were last together but it felt like an eternity to him.

minutes, hours, days. you can't recall how long he's down there for, but when you feel the vibration of another apology against your clit, you don’t care.

his fingers slide into you, filling you as he licks and sucks, and you're sure that this has to be the best apology you've ever received.

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 8

Spoilers for ISAT, CW for mentions/wounds of self harm

"A hot springs?"

"Yes! There's one on the way to the next town! We can set up camp there tonight!" (Mirabelle beams with excitement.)

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. We could sure use a bit of relaxation now that our grand quest is over."

"Yeah! That sounds like a great idea! What do you think Sif?" (Isa suddenly looks to you. Despite how long it's been for you, you still always freeze up a little when asked to make a decision.)

"Uhhh… Y-Yeah that sounds nice!" (You stammer out. It did sound nice on paper, but there's something nagging you at the back of your mind… Your arms start to itch, scratching at them nervously.)

"Splendid then. We'll stop by the market to get everything we need, then onto the springs."

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

(You grumbled some to yourself on the road, just itching away at your arms now and then. They were almost burning now... why are they so blinding ITCHY?! You can't take it anymore, you start to pull at your sleeve, stopping in your tracks as you see them... The still somewhat fresh wounds you carved into your arms during your 'episode'... That's why you had that sinking feeling, this is when they learned about it...)

"Siffrin? Are you okay?" (Mirabelle asked, approaching from behind as you quickly covered your arm back up, holding yourself close under your cloak.)

"Y-Yeah! Just... uhh... thinking about the loops again..." (You mumbled some, hoping that was enough so she wouldn't pry too deeply. She just gives her usual bright, comforting smile.)

"We're ready to hear whenever you want to talk about it, okay Siffrin?" (You nod, your face making it rather clear that now was not that time. She nods back before returning to the rest of the group. You're left alone with your thoughts again... and that awful sinking feeling of the night to come... You've done this before, you can do it again, you're... you're better now... right?...)

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

(Everyone was already getting into their swimming attire, the bubbling springs scattered about the area looking so enticing. The steam dances off them through the cool night air. The minerals twinkle and dance with the movement. Everything about it was so relaxing... and the sense of terror in you only grew with each moment... Your heart was ready to pound out of your chest, static rang in your ears, your breath rush out as quickly as it entered. Why is this so hard... Why can't you do this... Maybe you could loop back?! Y-Yeah just go back and pick a different route this time! You'll never have to be here, they'll never have to see, they-)

(You suddenly jump as a large hand lands on your shoulder. You look absolutely crazed and manic, looking up at Isa suddenly, who was in turn looking down at you very worriedly.)

"S-Sif?..." (He stared in shock. You're losing it! Just stop, breath, ground yourself... You close your eye take a few deep breaths, just doing your best to focus on that and nothing else. You slowly open your eye again once you've settled. Isa looks relieved... You're still worried, but having him beside you is helping.)

"Isa... I... There's something... uhm..." (You mumble out, unable to find the words. He just stands there, waiting patiently, letting you take all the time you need... You didn't deserve him sometimes...)

"... I did something... o-on that last day... a-and..." (You begin, placing your hand over your arm and rubbing it some.)

"It's okay Sif, we aren't gonna judge you. We know you had a real tough time... Come join us when you're ready, okay?..." (Your eye gets watery again, but you nod. You knew you had to do this... You knew you could, no matter how hard it would be.)

"Thanks Isa... I'll be over soon..." (You say with the biggest smile you could muster at the moment. He smiles back with a bit of a chuckle. He invites you in for a hug, which you take without hesitation. You hold onto him for a short while, taking deep breaths to help calm you further. You finally let him go to return to the others.)

(You sit with yourself a bit longer, just staring at your clothed arms... One step at a time, that's all you have to do... You grip the star coated underside of your hat, slipping it off and to the side. One down. Next you undo the pins on your cloak. It slips free in your grip, folding it neatly setting it beside your hat. That's two. Onto your gloves, pulling them off one finger at a time. You set those down on your cloak... Last one...)

(You take one last deep breath, heading over to the edge of the large pool they were all enjoying. Bonnie splashing at Isa and Mira while they pretended to be under attack. Odile just smiling to herself as she watched from the side. They all stop and look to you, almost curiously... You can do this... You're safe, you are loved... You finally start to pull up your shirt. You bring it over your head, slipping it off, and delicately peeling it off the still sore, inflamed, raw gashes you carved across them. Those stars and constellations you painted into your flesh like a canvas... You hear Mira let out a gasp in shock, quickly covering her mouth. You look across nervously at the others, Isa looked strangely proud and worried at once. Mira was still purely shocked by the gruesome sight. Odile gave her somewhat pensive look, you could just hear her saying "Oh Siffrin..." in her usual way. Their worry and judgement bore into you, causing you to begin to tremble... No... no no no this is bad, stop looking stop looking STOP LOOKING!!! You want to dearly to sink back under your hat and cloak... You notice Bonnie was staring too... though it was hard to place what they were feeling until-)

"Woaaaah it looks like the sky! That's so cool!"

"BONNIE!?!"

"What?! It's pretty!... Fr-Frin?" (Bonnie asks as they look up at you. You let out a sniffle... you were crying again, but you let out a chuckle under your breath from their reaction. You wipe your tears as you slowly step down into the pleasantly hot water, your arms tightly wrapped around yourself. You eventually wade your way closer to the 3 of them. Wordlessly, you find yourself enveloped in a tight hug, surrounded by them all. Even feeling Odile eventually reach the group to provide some hair ruffling, causing you to choke out some light laughs through your sobbing... You're safe... You're loved...)

[intoxicated-chan]

Since you're requests are open👉👈 I was wondering if I could request a fluff one-shot with legolas? Legolas and his spouse welcoming their first child into the world? Like they went on an adventure, halfway through reader falls pregnant and instead of turning back they (he) built their dream home and started their life together. Just a domestic, fluffy fic.

𝐎𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐞���𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

Summary ➳ What was supposed to be an adventure turned into a chase until you and Legolas went to Rivendell to relax and to reveal some good news.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Love Story” by Indila. Hello! I’m not sure if this is what you wanted, so please don’t be afraid to ask me. I’m working on things slowly since I don’t want to rush which is why it took awhile to post. P.s I might make a pt 2 where it’s just the reader, Legolas and their little family. Credits to @/saradika for the lotr banner!!

Word Count ➳1.6k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, light sexual content, hickies, established relationship, mentions of violence, Thranduil is kinda jerk, pregnancy, mentions of multiple pregnancies…

You awoke to the cold breeze gazing at your exposed back, you took a moment to move slowly as you were still sore from the night before. The thick blanket rested on your lower half, leaving the rest of you exposed to the elements.

You turn your head to the right, the sound of carving wood caught your attention, and the sound coming from Legolas. His legs were crossed as sat on a tree stump. His eyes narrowed slightly, taking a few seconds to check his progress or to see any mistakes before he continued.

Even though he seemed focused, his face was relaxed, his hair braided back to keep it out of his face, and he was dressed in a thin tunic and trousers. Legolas looked in your direction when you moved, the leaves crunching under you as you wrapped the blanket around your exposed body.

“Sleep well?” Legolas sneered, staring at the hickey on your neck that was barely covered.

“Ha-Ha.” You rolled your eyes as you moved closer to him, sitting at the fire that he made. “What’s that?” You questioned, looking at the wood in his hands.

You reached for it only for him to pull it away from your grasp. “It’s a surprise.” Legolas tucked the wood away and into his bag, setting his daggers to the side.

“You seemed to be having lots of surprises, care to tell me why?” You laid your head on his lap, feeling his hand run through your hair.

“It’s still a surprise.” Legolas chuckled at your playful scoff. “We should continue to move, that is if we wish to avoid my father’s men.”

You let out a muffled whine. “He isn’t going to stop, is he?” Legolas shakes his head. You pull the blanket tighter. “I hope we head somewhere warm. I despise the cold… Perhaps we could visit Rivendell, I’m sure Lord Elrond would be happy to see you.”

“But my father wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Since when did you consider your father’s opinion?”

“I’m… Not quite sure.” You moved your head off his lap when he began to stand. “But let us visit Lord Elrond, I would like a break from sleeping on the ground.”

You too stood. “To Rivendell then.” When you turned to grab your items, his arms wrapped around you to pull you into his chest.

“Lord Elrond isn’t in a hurry, I’m sure he could wait a few more weeks.” Legolas nuzzled into your neck.

“It seems to me that you’re just dying to get caught by your father.” You laughed, feeling his breath tickle you.

“Just a couple more minutes.”

“I can assure you that Thranduil wouldn’t dare march an army into Rivendell, let alone demand his own son return to Mirkwood without said son putting up a fight.” Elrond spoke to Legolas, they both stood on a balcony that overlooked you and Arwen.

Elrond could try all he wanted to calm Legolas’s thoughts of his father doing something drastic but he could see how Legolas looks at you. “...He wouldn’t dare to hurt her. He may be cold but he’s not a monster.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Legolas admitted. He could sound convincing to anyone but Elrond can sense the tension in his voice. “But he’d do anything to scare her off. He never spoke of anything when I chose to spend my life with her and marry her, even Tauriel didn’t know. It seems that he has a problem with it now.”

“Give it time, soon Thranduil’s eyes will open and he’ll see how happy his son is.”

You and Arwen left Elrond and Legolas to talk. You walked with her around Rivendell, arm in arm, listening to each other’s stories and catching up. “And how’s Aragorn? I heard that he’s going by Strider now.”

“I am saddened that he chose to leave Rivendell all those years ago but… What do they say?” Arwen asked you.

“Made it work, you mean?”

“Yes.” If Arwen’s smile couldn’t get any bigger… “But it makes me wonder, what are you and Legolas doing in Rivendell? Did something happen in Mirkwood?”

“No, no- I mean, ever since Legolas chose me to be with me, it was like a sudden change in his father. It’s hard for me to accept that Thranduil is his father. I don’t even know that being pregnant will change his mind.”

“One shouldn’t think like that, plaguing your mind with-” Arwen froze in her tracks and looked you directly in your eyes. “You’re with child? A babe? Does Legolas know?”

You stop as well. “I was thinking I’d tell him tonight. But unsure how, he’s already stressed with his father’s men following us. How am I supposed to tell him that I’m pregnant?”

“Approach him carefully about it, sit by the waterfall and reminisce about anything and everything.” Awren pulls her arm back, only for her to fix your hair and clothes. “It doesn’t have to be over the finest dinner or intimacy. It will be perfect with just the two of you.”

“I sometimes believe that I do not deserve you Arwen.”

“I will always be here if you need me, you are my friend.” Arwen takes you by the hand and leads you to Rivendell’s infirmary. “Come, we must make sure the babe is alright.”

Legolas received word from Arwen that you wished to meet to discuss an important matter. Arwen sounded excited but it made Legolas go into a panic for some reason. It felt like hours when he was looking for you, yet it was only a few minutes later when he found you sitting next to a stream.

“There you are, I was beginning to believe that you were planning something.” Legolas came closer, taking a seat beside you. “I know that look, you have something to tell me. If you do not wish to discuss it then do force yourself.”

“No, I… I need to say it. It’s just been a grueling time going from one place and to another. But I cannot say that the journey didn’t have some ups as well. Especially that time a bird startled you, causing you to fall into the water.” You giggled.

“If my memory serves me right, it wasn’t the bird but in fact you. You came from behind and pushed me.” Legolas corrected.

“Not very graceful, is it?”

“Lord Elrond said we could remain here for as long as we like. But like you said, we could head South, find some place to relax for once.”

“Wouldn’t your father find us?”

“Most likely but he wouldn’t risk going too far from his borders and put a chance into his men’s lives.”

“Well… It doesn’t matter where we decide to retire, as long as our child is safe.”

Your words took a matter of minutes to hit Legolas. His eyes widened. “A-Are you certain? For how long?” He grinned, ear to ear as he placed a hand on your stomach.

“About six weeks, maybe seven.” Your hand comes to clasps his hand tightly. “I meant what I said, it doesn’t matter where we go. It would be a home to me.”

“First an adventure, then chased by my father’s men, and now a child. Quite a journey it has been, but I wouldn’t ask for anything else.” Legolas puts his forehead against yours, his other hand feeling the braids in your hair.

You let Legolas choose where to settle, it was perfect. It was a small forest, and where he chose, there was a spacious land with a pond and stream not far. It wasn’t long before you both started planning and then building.

“Shouldn’t it be quite bigger?” Legolas questioned, standing where you were to look at the nearly finished wooden house. “In case of future children?”

You smack his shoulder. “One at a time, Legolas. One at a time.” You smiled. “We could add more rooms later on. Perhaps a second floor and a fireplace? I rather not freeze during the winter.”

“One at a time.” Legolas horribly mimicked your voice, getting another slap to the shoulder. His hands come over to your obvious baby bump. “Thought of any names yet?”

“I was hoping you’d have any.”

“How about Elwyn for a boy and Siofra for a girl?”

“I like the sound of them.” You looked back at the house. “What is left?”

“I just have to make sure it doesn’t collapse on us and head into the closest town to search for herbs and such. It shouldn’t be a long trip.”

Legolas took your hand to lead you into the home, it would need some decorations as it felt bare but it was perfect nonetheless. “It feels like yesterday when you asked me to join you on another adventure. Or when you proposed and married me.”

He runs his hand over the walls of the home. “We shall create new memories here, just us and our children. Forget my father and those who disagree. This house will be filled with warmth, and I will make sure it will remain protected.”

“Remember-” Your cup his face with your hands, running your thumb over his cheeks. “This house is also for us to relax, I believe we will be safe.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop worrying.”

“Good, the babe should be coming in a couple of days. I already have enough things to worry about.”

“That reminds me.” Legolas moved from your grasp and towards his bag where he pulled out the wood that he was carving months ago. He shaped it into a horse. “I wanted to give this to you early but working on the house kept me from finishing it, a gift for the babe.”

“It’s amazing Legolas.” You took it into your hands carefully. “I’m sure they will love it.”

You never thought you’d have this in your life. You never thought you could have any of this, and you would never ask for a change. This is all you need.

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[g0ldenzinnie]

Halloween dates x NCT Dream

P.1

Couple: Nct Dream x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive (specially with Jeno, it’s just that I found him so hot), halloween.

Word Count: 2,6k

Mark x Carving pumpkins

“I think I’m doing it wrong” Your boyfriend says in panic with the pumpkin filling in his hand. You smile at him for how cute he looks and take his hand. “Calm down, you’re doing fine. Just drop this here.” You guide him to drop the stuffing into the bowl. Mark makes a face of disgust as he feels the stuff of the vegetable in his hand, you again laugh at him. “It was your idea.” You reminded him.

He called you saying that he wanted to do something fun for Halloween. Obviously, you thought it would be something like dressing up in a couple costumes or watching scary movies. So when he showed up with two pumpkins at your apartment saying surprise, your face definitely was an expression of surprise. After an hour, your pumpkins were looking quite well for being your first time. You decided to go for a horrifying face, instead of your boyfriend, who went for a more cute look.

“I know, but I thought it was going to be more like, you know… cleaner” You wipe his hand with the kitchen cloth that was on the table, and continue with your pumpkin. Mark sulky, cause you let go of his hand, decides to go behind, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. His nose was smelling your cologne in the crook of your neck, leaving a hot breath along the way. “I think the heart eyes need a little touch” You say trying to focus on your work, but the presence of your boyfriend behind you was a big obstacle. “I think that can wait” He says with a raspy voice in your ear, to later start kissing your cheek. His hands were exploring your stomach and waist without any shame. Feeling ticklish against his touch. You sigh and turn your face to give him a little kiss on the lips. “Baby, I love you. But I don't want my kitchen to look like a farm with all this pumpkin filling” You say, pointing at the mess you two had in the table and kitchen counters. He separates from you to take your pumpkin and put it in front of his face. “Show me affection, or I’ll curse you” He says, which was supposed to be a creepy voice, but you just found him more cute. You took your creation off his hands and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I am showing you affection.”

He pouts and crosses his arms. “C’mon, the faster we move, the faster we finish. Besides your pumpkin it's better than mine” You state. Mark smiles at you shyly, looking at his pumpkin with heart eyes and a wide smile. “You think?” He asks you with joy. You tease him, saying, "Not really." He shows you a face of pure betrayal, as if you had broken his heart into a million pieces. Then out of nowhere, you suddenly felt a wet material in your discovered arm. You drop a gasp watching the filling of the pumpkin covering your arm and shirt. “Meany” Mark says as a little kid, like he literally didn't just launch you the remains of a vegetable. “You’re the meany” You say, doing the exact same thing, aiming in his neck and chest. His mouth opens in outrage, and his gaze reflects pure mischief. As you know your boyfriend so well, you start walking backwards. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” You scream, laughing while you run away from Mark with his handful of pumpkins.

You reach the living room before he drops you on the couch, wrapping his arms against your waist. Likewise, you're trying to beat him up, screaming at him to get off. But with his legs around your body, he forces you to stay on the couch. Now that you were under him, helpless, he took his time to fill your face with pumpkin. “Gross!” You whine, shaking your head but smiling. You free your hand to stain him as well, and he laughs trying to remove it. “Babe, that's disgusting” “You started it” He smiles at you, then this becomes a grin, realizing how you were positioned. Your perfect body laying on the couch, impotent by his legs around your body. Your face was full of pumping, but your face reflected that smile of yours, that made Mark lose his balance. You never looked so beautiful.

He leans over to you, giving you a slow and soft kiss. You follow him, deepening the kiss with your tongue moving to his lips. He reacts quickly and opens his mouth for you. Touching the side of your body with his hands full of the vegetable, but at this point it didn’t matter to you. “Baby, what about the pumpkins?” He asks you in his lips. “It can wait” You say before attacking his lips again.

Renjun x Halloween Makeup

“Can I see now?” You ask, trying to look in the mirror you had in front of you, but Renjun quickly covers your vision with his body. “Focus on me.” He orders, putting his hand in your chin, to continue with his work. You try to hide your smile, when you see him being this bossy. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his gaze full of concentration to every feature of your face. You have been sitting there for an hour, but Renjun didn’t seem tired or bored. It was different for him since he was standing. But when you offered to take a break, he refused because he didn’t want you to see his work yet.

And to think this all started in the same bed, with the two of you scrolling in your phones. You were on Pinterest and he was on TikTok. As it was Halloween, you were looking for costume ideas. Suddenly, you see a beautiful makeup look of Avatar. Renjun and your favorite movie. You thought it would be a good idea to try, but then you remember that your makeup skills were zero. “I wish I knew how to do makeup.” You said spontaneously, attracting your boyfriend's attention. He saw the photo of the girl and leaned his head. “I could do it” He stated confidently. So after that, you bought the items you needed, got home and sat on the bedroom bed, with Renjun between your legs.

“I just want to know if my boyfriend's work is paying off.” You say, watching him pass a brush in your forehead. He gives you an indignant face, leaning backwards. “You don’t trust my artistic skills?” You rolled your eyes and took his waist with your hands. “I do. You're the only person who could make me beautiful.” He turns annoyed and sighs, stepping backwards. “How many times do I have to say it? You are beautiful” He did tell you that many times. It wasn't like you wanted him to say it. You genuinely thought of yourself as someone regular. But to Renjun you were a piece of art that needed more recognition. You just nod and try to bring him closer. He shakes his head, putting his hands on your shoulders to keep you away. “Say it” You lean your head confused, but Renjun just gives you that gaze when something bothers him, because it’s so obvious. So you roll your eyes and say softly, “I’m pretty”. Renjun points at you with the brush and makes a gesture for you to speak louder. “Oh god, I’m pretty!” You say fed up. He smiles triumphantly and moves over, for you to finally see yourself in the mirror. “I think now you can finally see it.”

You stay still for a while, processing how beautiful you look. You weren’t completely covered in blue, like everyone thought you would be when you told them. Haechan literally dropped on the floor laughing, when you said to him what you were planning to do. Thinking you were going to look like Renjun when he dressed up as a smurf. This was different. Only the edges of your forehead were painted with blue, with the blue lines coming out very detailed. He also painted your eyes with different shades of blue. Little white dots were covering your nose and forehead, and your nose was a little blue in the bone. “Wow” you say, amazed by the impeccable work of Renjun. Your boyfriend sits beside you in the bed, giving you an “I told you” look. “I think now you say, thank you.” He says, mocking you with the brush in your face. You take it away, angry because of his reaction. But in the end you smile, you can't get mad at him. “Thank you Renjun. It's perfect.” He nods, giving you a grin in the process. “I know”

You sigh, unbelieving the confidence he had. You shove him off the bed, and he falls on the ground. But quickly, he grabs your arm for you to fall on top of him. You yell at him and start tickling, since you know he hates it. He starts to defend himself, but it is hopeless. “Ok, ok, I give up!” He screams defeated. You stop, smiling, feeling more victorious than ever. Now that things were calm, you finally see his face. Looking at you with care, analytic. Like he always did. He couldn’t understand how beautiful you were. He puts his hand on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “I see you” You smile at him and do the same with your hand. “I see you”

Jeno x Scary movies

Trying to enter the apartment, with grocery bags in your hand, was a lot more difficult than you thought. It was 4:45 PM, so you still had time to prepare for the party you and Jeno were hosting. Well, you weren’t considering a party. It was just some friends of Jeno and some of yours. You close the door behind you and go to the kitchen. The department was silent, so you figured Jeno hadn't got home. Still, you asked to be secure. “Baby?” You look in the hallway expecting to see something, but you see and hear nothing. You start to take out the things in the bags and accommodate them in the cabinets. That’s when you hear a sound coming from behind you. You turn around and see nothing. “Jeno?” You ask with a scared tone. The apartment was dark, even in the morning, so the atmosphere was even scarier. But you were not going to be intimidated by Jeno. Not when he could be here, helping you. You go around the kitchen island to go find him, or whatever the source of that sound was. “Jeno, I don’t care if it's Halloween, you are going to help me, you’ll like it or not '' You say walking first to your bedroom. And there you find him. “Sorry baby, I don’t think I’m in conditions.”

Jeno was in bed without his shirt on, covered in blankets, being a sweating mess. His hair was wet and stuck on his forehead. His body was shivering because of the cold, but you knew it was hot. And his face was pale as a ghost. Your boy had a flu. “Shit, Jeno.” You say, hurrying to his side, kneeling beside the bed. “What happened?” He closes his eyes, and tries to smile through the pain. “It started in the morning. I didn’t want to bother you.” You try to protest, but he stops you by putting his hand on your face. “You looked so calm baby, and I know you had sleeping problems lately, so I went to work earlier. But it got worse, so they sent me home.” You purse your lips, shaking your head in disbelief. You gently punch his arm. “You are an idiot.” Jeno gives you that smile that comes with his eyes. “I’m a sick idiot now.” You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Stay here.” You go to the bathroom and wet a towel. Then go to him and put it on his forehead. He tries to take it out for discomfort, but you insist. “Don’t be a baby.” He pouts his lips when he hears you. “But I’m your baby” You rub his arms to give him comfort. “Yeah, you are. Now be a good baby, and stay tight while I cook you some soup. Okay?” He nods and you stand up. But then Jeno realized something. He grabs your arm quickly. “What about the party?” You sight, thinking it through. You couldn’t receive guests with Jeno state, besides you weren’t at a party mode anyway. “Let’s cancel it.” “But baby, it’s Halloween. You love Halloween.” He sits on the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist, with his head pressing against your stomach. It’s true, Halloween was your favorite holiday. Every year, you wanted to do something fun and special, since you loved it so much. But the boy, whose body was a hundred degrees hot, was more special to you. You kiss his head and lead him to the bed. “I love you more. Also, we can still do something. Jisung gave us his HBO account, remember? We can have a marathon of scary movies.” He smiles at you while rubbing your arms with his fingers. “But no popcorn for you. It’s not good for your throat.” He makes a groan, sulky. You laugh at his reaction, and get close to give him a kiss. “I love you” His lips were pouted, but he still murmured an “I love you too.” You covered him well in the blankets and went to the kitchen to make your famous chicken soup.

In the way, you also call your friends to let them know that the party was canceled. Most of them understood, but Chenle still wanted to go to the house to hang out. You hung up before he could beg you. After a while everything was ready. You went with the soup and the popcorn on a tray to the bedroom. Jeno was half asleep, but when he saw you his face illuminated, even if he was pale as paper. You gave him the soup carefully to not burn him. But he just looked at you foolishly. “How is it that you are so beautiful?” He says looking at you, gawking. You just smile and continue to give him his soup. When you finish, you get in the bed, to start watching the movies.

You first start with The Purge, since it was your favorite. You start to cuddle, with you being the big spoon. During the movie, Jeno tries to take out popcorn, but you smack his hand in the process. He starts to whine about it, and since you found it so cute, you give him some. Then in the middle of the movie, Jeno turns his body to you, to be the big spoon. You tried to stop him, since you wanted to take care of him, but he insisted. While watching the movie, he starts to caress your arm with his fingers. You don’t do anything since you thought it was an innocent move. But then, his nose starts poking your cheek and his lips pressing against your neck. “Focus on the movie.” You say, tapping his hand. “This is more interesting.” He starts to deepen the kisses on your neck. For sure, a mark would appear later. Your breathing became heavier, and your skin became hotter. “Jeno, you’re sick.” He already was giving you kisses on your shoulder, pushing your shirt down to feel your skin. “Treat me well then.” His hands were on your stomach, pushing you towards him. You could feel his bare and hot chest against your back. And something growing in your lower back. “Let me love you.” The movie was long forgotten.

Happy Halloween 🎃🧡

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | explicit | wc: 2.1k | tags: getting together, fluff, love confessions, Steve takes care of Eddie | @steddielovemonth Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him | AO3)

The first time Steve feels Eddie's heartbeat, it's barely there. It's so faint that for an endless, terrifying moment, Steve thinks he's lost him.

That he's too late.

His fingers are on Eddie's neck, and there is so much blood that they keep slipping as he keeps searching for the reassuring thump-thump-thump of a pulse. Next to him, Dustin is sobbing and babbling, begging Steve to help Eddie, to save him. It brings tears to Steve's own eyes, the pain in Dustin's voice too much for him to bear. He shouldn't have left them alone, he should have come back sooner, he should have been better.

When he can't find what he's looking for, Steve presses his ear to Eddie's chest, desperate for some sign that he's not too late, that he hasn't failed his friends. That he hasn't let Eddie down.

Steve wants to cry with relief when he feels it, barely perceptible, but there. Eddie's heartbeat is pounding in his veins, pumping blood to wounds that need to be tended to right away.

"Come on, man, you're going to be okay. Just stay with me, Eddie. I got ya, you'll be as good as new, I promise," Steve swears not only to Eddie, but to Dustin as well. Even to himself, because he wants to believe it, too. Has to believe it.

Brown eyes, glassy with pain and blood loss, slowly open and blink up at him. "Steve?"

"Yeah, it's me. The guy who told you not to be cute, not to be a hero, but of course you didn't listen, did you?"

Inexplicably, Eddie grins at his words and Steve sees a deep gash in his cheek.

"You think I'm cute," Eddie says, sounding pleased even though it's obvious how much talking hurts him. It's easy to agree with him in this moment, anything to make Eddie happy and stop him from arguing.

"So cute, I'm going to sweep you off your feet now, Eddie." And with that, he scoops Eddie up in his arms, wincing at the way he whimpers in pain. "You gotta hang in there, yeah?"

Steve stumbles toward the trailer, wondering how he's going to get Eddie through the portal, almost missing when Eddie says quietly, "I'll try.”

They make it to the hospital, just barely. The doctors whisk Eddie away before Steve can check his heartbeat again, and he can't get his mind to stop its panicked mantra of too late, too late, too late. It's like his mind refuses to believe they made it without any tangible proof.

So later, when Eddie is out of surgery but still not allowed visitors, Steve sneaks into his room when no one is looking. Eddie's uncle is not there yet, and the room is eerily quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

It should be enough to reassure Steve that Eddie is, if not okay, at least alive.

But he isn't.

It's only with his ear pressed to Eddie's chest and hearing the rhythmic and steady beating of his heart that Steve is finally able to take a breath and let the tension seep out of his exhausted body. All he wants right now is to crawl onto the bed and let the sound lull him to sleep.

They almost lost Eddie. Steve almost lost Eddie.

It is with a mixture of surprise and confusion that he realizes just how much the thought hurts.

The next time Steve feels Eddie's heartbeat, it's not through his chest, but through the pulse in his veins.

This thing between them was so new and exciting, and Steve really had no idea what he was doing. Only that since that moment in the Upside Down when he had first pressed his ear to Eddie's chest and felt the faint beating of his heart against his cheek, something had changed.

Not even in a monumental way. It wasn't something Steve could have put his finger on at first.

But something had changed.

There was a new awareness of Eddie in Steve's mind, a space carved out just for the other boy. Like a beacon sending out signals, Steve always knew where Eddie was in a room and what he was doing.

And then there was this current that ran between them. Every time their bodies so much as brushed against each other, Steve could feel it. Sparks of electricity and heat coursing through his veins.

It was both heady and intense, making Steve wonder when he would reach his breaking point, unable to take it anymore, and finally act on it.

In the end, it was Eddie who snapped, kissing Steve with lips that tasted of cheap beer and the grilled cheese sandwiches Steve had made for them. But Steve returned it eagerly, licking happily into Eddie's mouth while his hands had cupped Eddie's face, holding him as if he were precious.

One thing led to another, and soon Steve had Eddie spread out on his sheets, the scars on his body like wildflowers blooming in the aftermath of life's wildfires. Each mark a testament to the battles he fought and the strength that ran through him like roots anchoring a majestic tree. Because he survived, he fought to stay with them, and only because of his strength is Steve allowed to hold him now.

That's why he made sure to caress each and every scar with his hands and mouth, baring his own heart in the process.

When his lubed finger first entered Eddie's body, Steve was as overwhelmed as Eddie, both men needing to catch their breath as their hearts thundered in their chests. At first Steve thought it was his own heart beating so hard he could feel his pulse in his finger. But then he realized it was Eddie's wild heart beating against Steve's finger inside him in a loving embrace.

Steve never knew that he would ever feel someone else's heart so intimately. That he would be able to feel it's rhythm from inside another's body, as if he was holding Eddie's heart in his own hands.

And when he finally sank into him, Steve lay still for a plethora of eternities, reveling in the sensation of Eddie's heartbeat welcoming him home.

Even though Steve wouldn't be able to say those words aloud for another two months, he knew that what they had done that day was love.

The day Steve finally finds the words to say how he feels about him, he can feel Eddie's heart saying it right back to Steve's palm on his chest.

They've been dating for two months now, and though they have to be careful in a way Steve has never had to be before, he wouldn't trade it for the world. Not if it meant falling asleep in Eddie's arms and waking up to the sight of his boyfriend's nose scrunched up adorably as his wild curls tickle it where they don't spill across the pillow they share.

Steve hasn't said them yet, those three words he's only said to one other person, but he tells Eddie every day in his own way. A million little things, from lingering touches to meals prepared to comfortable silences shared.

He tells Eddie he loves him every day when he puts his head on Eddie's chest to feel his heart beat in that steady, rhythmic way that says he's alive. That there is a future, not an almost, but a maybe. A hopefully.

Eddie always lets him, holding still when Steve pushes him down and climbs on top of him so he can lie comfortably and listen to his favorite sound inside Eddie's body. If Vecna were still alive, which fortunately he isn't, Eddie's heartbeat would be the song that could save Steve.

As they lay there, Eddie kept tapping his own rhythm on Steve's back. It's always the same, a song Steve doesn't recognize but has come to love as much as anything else about this impossible man beneath him.

On this particular day, Steve has just finished folding laundry when the doorbell rings. He drops the sweater he's been holding and goes to the door, wondering who it could be. Robin was on a trip with her parents and the kids had school. He and Eddie would see each other tonight at the trailer, have a quick and early dinner before Wayne had to go to work, and he and Eddie would spend the rest of the evening satisfying the ever-present hunger for each other.

When he opens his front door, he's surprised to see Eddie standing there, but one look at his face is enough to tell Steve that something is wrong. He quickly pulls Eddie inside and closes the door before wrapping his boyfriend in his arms.

"What happened, baby?" He asks in a soft voice, feeling Eddie tremble in response. Steve knows that Eddie had a job interview today, down at the new record store, and he was so excited about it. The owner, Stuart, was new in town, so he didn't know who Eddie was or what people thought about him. It was the fresh start Eddie so desperately needed in a town that never quite let him forget that in their eyes he's still a murderer and a freak.

A growing pit in Steve's stomach tells him that some people had been forthcoming enough to tell Stuart all about Eddie before today's interview.

"Was it the interview? Did Stuart not hire you?"

Eddie shakes his head silently, and Steve thinks it's as much an answer to his question as it is Eddie asking not to have to talk about it. Steve understands. When things get too much, too overwhelming, Eddie goes silent. It takes time for him to find his voice, and Steve has learned to give him that time.

He begins to rock him gently, humming a song to himself as he holds Eddie in his arms.

Steve doesn't know how much time passes before Eddie finally lifts his head from where it was buried in Steve's neck to look at him.

"Cyndi Lauper, really?" Eddie teases, and even though it still sounds a bit weak, Steve takes it as a win.

Still rocking gently, Steve puts his hand on Eddie's chest just above his heart.

"What can I say, it makes me think of you." And Steve begins to sing, his voice soft as his eyes never leave Eddie's.

You with the sad eyes, don't be discouraged

Oh, I realize

It's hard to take courage, in a world full of people

You can lose sight of it all

And the darkness inside you can make you feel so small

But I see your true colors shining through

I see your true colors

And that's why I love you

And because he can't let Eddie have the slightest doubt about what Steve is trying to tell him, he says it again: "That's why I love you, Eddie."

Under his palm, Eddie's heart is still beating strong and sure, faster than usual, and Steve wonders if that means he's excited or scared by Steve's words.

The look in his eyes tells Steve it's the former.

Eddie's hand settles over Steve's on Eddie's chest and he begins to tap it gently in a rhythm that Steve has become familiar with.

Tap tap pause long tap, short tap, long tap, short tap, short tap, short tap, long tap, long tap pause long tap, short tap, long tap, long tap, short tap, short tap, long tap, short tap, long tap, long tap.

"That's how my heart would beat for you if it could, Stevie, spelling the same thing over and over again."

And he repeats the rhythm again, as if it meant something. Spelling the same thing...

"Is that... Eddie, is that Morse code?"

"I keep telling you, you're a lot smarter than you think you are, sweetheart. Want to know what it says?"

Steve thinks he knows, but he wants to hear Eddie say it, so he nods.

"I," Eddie says and taps Steve's hand twice on his chest.

"Love," he adds and follows with a series of taps, long, short, long, short, short, short, long, long.

"You," he finishes and Steve's smile widens with each tap of his hand. Long, short, long, long, short, short, long, short, long, long.

Eddie has been tapping those words against his skin since the first time they made love.

"You've been telling me that all along," he marvels, his voice full of wonder and love.

Eddie finally kisses him, painfully tender. "My heart has been trying to tell you ever since you started listening to it."

And Steve thinks maybe Eddie is right, it just took him a little while to understand its language.

[waldau-archived]

hi!! i really love the way you write for wonwoo♡♡♡ could i request wonwoo+friends to lovers(something like she fell first but he fell harder kinda trope?)

thank you so much anon! also you're my first ever request! i hope i did this trope justice, because as much as i love established relationships i don't think i've ever really done much for friends to lovers.

crush — jeon wonwoo | 2,193 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

it hits wonwoo like a sledgehammer.

he's glad he's already sitting in his usual seat at the table, because there probably couldn't be a worse time to realize he's in love with you. when you're out on a date with someone else, and when these dates look like they're going to become a steady fixture in your life; something that he's going to have to learn how to make peace with.

wonwoo doesn't just love you. he's in love with you, and he's grappling with the realization of how many months he's missed without knowing the extent of his own feelings for you.

he wishes there was some manual that told him what to do when you had feelings for your roommate. when said roommate happened to be your best friend you'd try to ask out if you weren't so afraid of ruining the friendship.

since the end of high school and the beginning of college, wonwoo's always had you by his side — whether it be in the same classes, or the same friend group — hell, he's lost count of the number of nights you spent together, watching movies instead of trying to get some sleep for the next day.

(maybe there was a reason why he chose horror movies sometimes, even though you were scared of them.)

he thinks back to all the times your friends joked you were practically dating — that never annoyed him. he was merely surprised at the idea of dating you. you had always been his best friend; nothing more. you were a constant fixture in his life that he didn't see in any other way.

but now? wonwoo wishes he could turn back time and see what could have happened. would you have had the same inside jokes you do now, the same ease that comes with learning to co-exist by carving each other's shapes into your lives?

he looks up from his laptop at the sound of the wind rattling the windows. but he's the only one home.

you're out on your second date in the past two weeks with this guy named seungcheol. for the past two weeks, wonwoo hasn't been able to put a finger on why he hasn't been so keen on this guy you're seeing, despite the fact that seungcheol sounds like nothing but a gentleman.

and now he knows why.

he's heard a lot about how funny and smart and nice seungcheol is, from taking you to your favourite restaurant for a date to leaving you at your doorstep at the end of your night out.

wonwoo wants to argue that he, too, does the same thing for you. he holds doors open for you and gives you his beanie when you're cold and lets you have his popcorn when yours is done, but you just don't see him that way. and he doesn't know what to do to make you see him that way.

he focuses on his laptop again. the words all seem jumbled, and he's pretty sure he's been on the same page for the past half hour. so he takes his glasses off and lets his eyes rest. only to remember the time you took his glasses off when he was almost about to fall asleep on the sofa.

you're loving. it's something he's learned from you. you're always looking out for others, always concerned, wanting them to know you're there in the subtlest ways possible.

wonwoo always wants you around, and now has an irrational worry that he won't have you for much longer. his heart starts hurting — really, physically hurting, like a deep pain in his chest that can't be satiated by anything. he didn't know it was possible, but it's all he can feel right now.

he tries to think about anything else. those few people he'd dated back in college, whose names he can't even remember now. he hasn't dated anyone in the past two years since you graduated, got a job and moved into this flat together.

wonwoo hadn't known what to expect when it came to living with you, because as much as you were best friends, you'd never shared a living space together beyond a night's time. now over the course of the last twenty five months, he's become accustomed to you, and he's afraid he's ruined it all by realizing he's fallen in love with you far too late.

part of that is definitely your fault, he reasons. he wouldn't blame seungcheol for falling in love, either.

the thought of you on your date hurts him enough that he picks up his pen and scratches something on the notepad lying next to his laptop. his strokes are harsh and drawn without care, but when he stops, it's a rough sketch of your favourite flowers.

he lets out a bitter laugh. everything always circles back to you, in the end.

you don't ask for anything on your birthday, but wonwoo always gets you a bouquet of your favourite flowers alongside your gifts, because he knows how much you love them.

he wonders if seungcheol knows they're your favourite.

he's shaken out of his thoughts when you open the door to your shared house and step inside, almost tiptoeing, like you're afraid of making noise. you freeze when you see him looking at you. he wonders how long he's been sitting there, mind blank but also filled with thoughts of you. it's eating him up like a slow poison from the inside, but he forces himself to hold your gaze.

you look amazing. more than that, you look happy.

he's not jealous. he's never jealous when you're happy. but he just wants you to be happy with him, and he doesn't know if he's enough.

he wants to know what it'd be like to take you out. he wants to know everything that makes you smile, because he still learns something new about you almost every day. he wants to know what it's like to hold hands with you, kiss you goodnight, and wake up every morning knowing you're there by his side and his side only.

he wants more than he can possibly have.

"hey, wonwoo," you say, shutting the door behind you before you take off your shoes. "couldn't sleep?"

"no. i wanted to wait till you came back."

you frown at him. "i told you not to."

as if he could ever do that. whether you go out on dates, or to parties with your friends, wonwoo can't relax till he knows you're back home, safe. he just shrugs. this is one thing he'll always be stubborn about.

"did you have dinner?" you ask, ruffling his hair and moving past him to presumably fix yourself a snack before you go to bed.

"yeah," he says, looking back at the laptop. the letters are still jumbled, so he cleans his glasses before putting them back on. "unless last night's pizza doesn't count."

"that's a lot of words for no," you say. "are instant noodles okay?"

"of course."

wonwoo watches as you move around, putting back today afternoon's dried dishes into their respective places and filling a glass of water for yourself.

"did you have fun tonight?"

"yeah," you say, a smile on your face. "cheol picked out this movie i've been wanting to watch for a while. then we went to this hole-in-the-wall cafe that was surprisingly nice. and then he dropped me home."

wonwoo tries not to react at the nickname you already have for him. he's not jealous, but it's getting harder to convince himself of that. he looks at your jacket. it looks...not quite your style.

"is that new?" he asks, pointing at it.

"what? oh, this? seungcheol asked me to return it to him the next time. it was pretty cold today."

wonwoo's hand crumples the note before he realizes. next time? why couldn't he have realized how much he loved you before all of this had to happen?

"you okay?" you ask, turning around to look at him. "come here and tell me if it tastes fine."

"it's just instant noodles," he pretends to grumble, but waits for you to feed him some. he can see you're a bit tired. he wishes you'd fall asleep on him, the way you do when you're stubborn enough to want to keep him company with whatever he's doing.

"tastes good," he hums, licking his lips.

did he just imagine your eyes looking at them before they moved back to his face?

"great. hand me those bowls from there?"

you using him for his height is a running joke he hopes never gets old. wonwoo takes out the cutlery too, but stops when he sees an angry red line on your hand.

"what happened to you?" he asks, holding your hand so he can see it clearly. he tries not to think about how much bigger his hand is. the cut isn't bleeding, but it's still there, starkly visible against your skin.

you hesitate. "i'm not sure. i remember my hand hit something in the cafe, but i didn't see it till now."

"and you didn't bother checking it once you got home?"

you look at him. "i didn't even feel it that much, woo."

"you could have tetanus for all you know!"

"it's just a cut! it's hardly that ser—"

you stop talking when wonwoo switches on the tap and turns off the stove. "take this off," he says, pointing to the jacket. it shouldn't even be in your home. he shouldn't be feeling like this in the first place.

you comply wordlessly, hand limp in his as he washes it thoroughly, before patting it dry with the towel near the sink and finding a bandaid in the cabinet above. you have a propensity for getting hurt randomly and wonwoo's glad to be prepared.

"done," he says, letting go of your hand. you're still looking at him.

"kiss it better?" you ask. there's a mischievous look in your eyes.

and who is he to refuse? he takes your hand back, gently pressing a kiss to it, making sure it's not too forceful. when your eyes meet again, he gets the feeling there's something in the air. even you seem to be aware of it. it's like the tipping point before the scales lose their balance, like the calm before the storm; it's now or never.

"one more time?" you ask, moving a bit closer. wonwoo swears he forgets how to breathe. and he definitely isn't imagining your eyes on his lips this time.

"always," he says, before he leans down to press his lips to yours.

it's magic. there's no other word for it. wonwoo feels like he's transcending worlds when he feels your lips against his, trying to press yourself into him when you wrap your hands around his waist.

when you pull apart, wonwoo swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life. this is what he wants, and he'll be damned if he doesn't try to find out what could have been.

"please don't go out with him again?"

"...what?"

wonwoo swallows, letting go of your hand. his bravery now comes and goes like waves on the seashore, tides threatening to spill out everything he feels about you in one careless motion.

"i don't want you to go out with him again."

"because...we kissed?"

"because i'd never let you get hurt if you were with me."

"you...what?"

"i like you," he says, taking a step closer. "i don't know what that meant to you, but i like you so much, and i hate that it took me this long to realize it. i want...i want you to give me a chance."

"you like me?" you ask, voice smaller than before.

he nods. "i want to...take you out on a date. wherever you want. i want to make you laugh. it's been killing me, thinking about you with him."

"oh, my god," you say, burying your face in your hands. wonwoo's heart drops. "why would you— i've been trying to get over you all this while, going out on dates with him so i can stop thinking about you that way, and now you're just...giving me what i've always wanted?

wonwoo feels like he's been drenched in ice-cold water. "you like me?" he parrots. he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he pulls you in for a hug. even this simple gesture suddenly feels like a brand new thing in the light of your recent confessions.

your hands find their place around his waist again, your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "of course i do. i'm surprised you didn't realize earlier. it's been...a while."

this is news to him. "how long, exactly?"

you bow your head, not meeting his eyes, "i'm not telling you now."

"you can't hide anything from me, you know."

he can feel your smile against his chest. "i know. let me just have this for now?"

"forever."

you tighten your grip around his waist and just stand with him.

wonwoo makes a mental note to get you a bunch of real flowers.