#i spend way too much time trying to pick apart their brains so i think they have A LOT of shit going on (and also i project so)

[stalebagels]

u ever look at any of these late night hosts, like john oliver, and say yea i think u could have adhd

like obviously no substantial evidence is available to u but yea u know

YOU ARE CORRECT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT

[avatar-anna]

This is another tattoo artist! Harry x ballerina! Reader, but at the beginning of their relationship. You can find the first blurb here

"When can I see you again?"

Your cheeks betrayed your cool demeanor, something they'd been doing all evening. You wanted to appear not as nervous or giddy as you felt going on this date, as if you frequently went out with handsome, muscly tattoo artists. Was that the case? Heavens, no, but you didn't want to look like a deer in headlights all night, and the way Harry's eyes devoured you, the way his lips kept finding your neck or cheek, wasn't helping.

"I—I'm busy all w—week. Training."

Harry hadn't let up his ministrations on your jaw, making it ten times harder to speak to him than it already was. But that last little corner of your brain that wasn't totally consumed by him wiggled its way to the front, reminding you of your responsibilities.

"Mm. What about after?"

"After?"

You felt him smile against your skin, his knuckle grazing the side of your face. "Surely you won't be rehearsing all night. What time are you normally done?"

"Um...six, but I usually go to bed pretty early."

"Gee, bunny, you're making me think you don't want to see me again. Breakin' my heart here."

"I do!" you hurried to say, perhaps a little too quickly. But it made Harry smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I—I do. Want to see you."

"Tell you what," he said, leaning one hand on the door at your back, just above your head. "I'll pick you up from rehearsal and bring you home. How's that sound?"

"That's it?" you asked, intrigued by the suggestion. Your intention wasn't to be difficult on purpose, but you had a tight schedule as a dancer at a prestigious ballet company. You didn't date much because of it, most guys not considering you worth the trouble, but Harry had been persistent. You admired that about him, and it made you like him all the more.

"That's it," Harry promised, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Unless of course, you invite me inside your apartment and let me spend the whole evening taking good care of you, but I'll settle for a walk to your apartment."

He was so sure of himself, but in a way that was charming, not off-putting. He was all the time, to the point where you thought it was an act at first, which was why you initially said no when he first asked you out. But you came to realize that was just who Harry was—charming, easygoing, confident as all hell. You found it attractive now, though sometimes it made you feel like you were even more anxious than you actually were.

"It's a date."

Smiling, Harry kissed you long and hard one last time before stepping away. "Try not to think about me too much while I'm gone. Can't have you falling out of a turn and hurting yourself before I can take you out again properly, hm?"

You swooned as he walked away, leaning fully against your front door unashamed as you watched him get on his bike. He'd left it here while you walked to a restaurant a couple blocks away. The engine roared to life as Harry hit his foot against the kickstand, winking at you before driving off.

You should've invited him in, you thought as you finally turned around to unlock your door. But another part of you applauded your restraint. It was too new, your plate too full, to jump too quickly into something you weren't sure you were ready for. Slow and steady, you'd promised yourself when you first agreed to a date with Harry.

Still, when you went to bed alone that night, you couldn't help but think about his teasing about you caving and letting him inside tomorrow, and how nice it would've felt to have been tucked into his side as you fell asleep.

*.*

a couple weeks later

"Who is that?"

Your head whipped up from your phone, following your friend's line of vision. Immediately your cheeks flushed, the view nearly overwhelming you.

Harry leaned against the side of the building you emerged out of, one leg propped against it as he lit a cigarette, you narrowed your eyes a little at the smoke he puffed out, but couldn't help but admit the inherent sexiness he exuded from performing such a simple action. His tattoos were on full display, peeking out beneath his shirtsleeves and up his neck. Such a tough exterior for someone who was actually quite charming and soft.

"I don't know, but I want to."

You looked over to where your two friends were standing, drinking Harry in as he blew out smoke through his nose. Their gazes stirred something uncomfortable in you, a possessiveness over Harry that you'd never felt for anyone before.

"He's my ride," you said, even though you and Harry always walked home together. You'd casually mentioned walking by yourself or taking the bus once, and Harry had been appalled by the revelation. He'd been waiting for you after each rehearsal and class ever since.

"Oh. I didn't know you had a brother, Y/n," your friend, still eyeing Harry.

"He's not my brother. He's my boyfriend."

"He is?"

Ignoring their incredulity, you hiked your bag higher up on your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry's head raised to look at you as you approached, a small smile forming on his lips as you drew near. "Bunny," he murmured before reaching for your hand and pulling you to his chest.

"Hi," you said a little breathless.

He took his time kissing you, one hand cupping the side of your face and the other on your waist but inching south where it would be a little inappropriate out in public. You pulled away, cheeks flushed for a multitude of reasons as Harry grinned at you and took your bag and slung it over his shoulder before starting on the walk back to your apartment. Sighing dreamily at him, you let him grab your hand and pull you along.

"Were you talking about me over there?" he asked, nodding behind him to where your friends were still standing.

"No—Yes," you admitted. "They think you're cute."

Harry's brows raised as if that was the last thing he expected to hear, as if he didn't know women didn't ogle him regularly.

"Really," he said as he began to walk down the sidewalk, your hand in his. "So you told them we were seeing each other?"

Your whole career was nearly solely based on your ability to be graceful, to appear weightless as you leapt through the air or stretched your leg high above your head as you balanced on the other. Yet when Harry asked that question, you stumbled. Enough that Harry placed a cautious hand on your elbow. You didn't expect him to hear what you had said to your friends, let alone question it. You'd not been seeing each other long in the grand scheme of things, so perhaps your statement was a little presumptive. But you didn't want your friends to think he was available, either. Now you worried Harry still believed he was.

"I know we haven't been seeing each other very long, but I didn't want them to get the wrong idea. I'm sorry if I've made things—"

"Relax, bunny, I'm only teasing," he said, leaning down slightly to press his lips to your burning cheek, nudging you with his nose once before pulling away. "But I like the idea of you being possessive of me. It's cute."

This was not how you wanted to have the "What are we?" conversation, but apparently it was happening. "I...I like you a lot. Like I said, I know it hasn't been long and our schedules are crazy, but I—I like you, and I feel like you should know that even if I could I wouldn't be seeing anyone else."

You purposely kept your eyes forward, not wanting to see Harry's expression as he took in what you said. He'd been nothing but a gentleman since you met him, but you also wouldn't be surprised if he was the kind of guy that liked to explore his options.

Harry didn't say anything for a minute, making you more and more anxious with each step you took. Maybe you should've waited until you were closer to your apartment. That way if he didn't reciprocate your feelings you could quickly hide and die from embarrassment alone.

Before you could tell him to forget it, Harry finally spoke. "You know I couldn't stop thinking about you after the first time I saw you?"

Your head whipped to meet his gaze, eyes wide. A faint blush dusted Harry's cheeks, something you'd never seen before. He'd been cool, calm, and collected since you'd known him, never once showing an ounce of nerves. Now he looked almost bashful as he walked beside you.

"Really?"

Harry briefly covered his smile with his free hand. "Really. I was crushed when you said no the first time I asked you out. And since you've said yes I've been trying so hard to impress you and be the kind of guy you'd normally be interested in. Shit, the guys at the shop give me hell because I wear shirts with less holes in them and walk with you everywhere because I know how you feel about riding on my bike and sometimes I stare at the clock or my phone like an idiot until I can pack up and finally see you. I've even been smoking less because I know you don't like it."

You didn't know any of that, but how could you? You smiled a little at the idea of Harry's friends teasing him, imagining him stressing about what to wear or what to say before a date the way you did.

"Harry, I—I don't want you to try to be anyone else," you said. "I mean, the smoking is a terrible habit and you should absolutely quit, but that's besides the point. I like you already. I liked you before you started buttoning your shirts more, and the motorcycle, while dangerous, is really sexy."

Harry's responding grin was immediate. "Sexy, you say?"

You scoffed. "Shut up. I've seen the way you look at me while I stretch."

"It's because you give me so many ideas when you do," he said. "So many ideas, bunny."

Your entire body warmed, the suggestion in Harry's tone impossible to ignore. You hadn't slept together yet, though not because neither of you wanted to. You liked to be sure about a guy before taking that step, and Harry had been understanding and waited for you. After everything you talked about on the walk to your apartment, you wanted nothing more than to pull him inside with you.

Neither of you spoke for the short remainder of the walk, but Harry's arm eventually draped over your shoulder and you were tucked into his side. His hand played with the ends of your hair, distracting you while you tried to decide whether or not to throw caution to the wind and let him into your apartment.

When your apartment finally came into view, you snuck a hand beneath Harry's shirt, running your hands along the solid planes of his stomach casually. "About those ideas..."

"I know, I'm sorry I brought that up when I'm just dropping you off. We'll have to—"

"I have ideas too," you said, trying your hardest to keep your voice even as you took the final steps to your door. Untangling yourself from Harry, you fished in your bags for your keys. "Maybe...Maybe you can come inside and I can show you?"

Harry's eyes widened, clearly not anticipating the direction of the conversation. "Are you sure? I know you have to be up early and have a whole routine and everything."

He was too sweet. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to do nothing more than to join you but was respectful enough of your space to walk away. But you knew what you wanted.

"You can be part of my routine," you said. Unlocking the door, you turned to face him. Your hands shook a little, but your voice was clear, if not hushed despite being alone, as you said, "You can help me stretch and relax before bed. Don't you want to help me, daddy?"

It was a bold choice, letting that little vulnerability slip. Very few knew about your...preference for a certain moniker, and you'd never brought it up to partners in the past. But this was Harry, who you liked so much and trusted even more. You wanted to share that side of you, even if it made your cheeks flame to say it before you were safe within the confines of your apartment. but you figured you'd revealed so much already, what was one more thing? At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

And guessing by Harry's reaction, it paid off.

"Yea—Yeah. Course, bunny," he said after swallowing. "How do you normally start?"

You grinned. "I like to take a shower. Or a bath, depending on my mood."

Harry picked you up by your waist, causing you to squeal. His lips didn't leave your neck as he asked, "Which one is big enough for two?"

"I barely fit in my bathtub," you giggled against the vibrations from his voice and the giddiness you felt at being held in Harry's arms.

"Shower it is then," he said, kicking the front door shut behind him and locking it quickly. "I'm gonna need to hear that at least three more times tonight. At least."

You began kissing Harry's neck instead of answering, still a little embarrassed that you'd said it at all. Harry seemed thrilled, and part of you was thrilled that it all worked out in the end, but it would take more coaxing than that before you worked up the confidence to call him "daddy" again.

"Don't be shy, bunny," Harry teased. "I'm proud of you for being so forward. Think my good girl deserves a reward, hm?"

You could only whimper with anticipation as Harry deposited you on the limited surface of your bathroom counter. As he shrugged out of his shirt, then his socks and shoes, then his jeans, revealing his body little by little in all its tattooed glory, you couldn't help but feel as though life couldn't get any better than this.

[yunhoshands]

Teasing San

San x gn reader

Summary: MINORS DNI You've been teasing your boyfriend San for days, he surprises you at home and gets his revenge (sorta)

Trigger warnings: cnc? (san surprises reader by sneaking up on her so idk),

Content warnings: names (sweetheart, baby, sugar), oral (m receiving), choking (briefly), san’s got a big dick (obviously), cnc? (san surprises reader by sneaking up on her so idk), plz lmk if I forgot anything

Words: 1.5k 

You'd been teasing your boyfriend San for days while he was away on his work trip. He’d only been gone a couple of days to do photoshoots for his new album but you’d been needy since he left. You didn’t get to spend a lot of time together due to his idol schedule and you working a full time job while doing college online, but you made the most of the time you had together. 

Even your time apart could be enjoyable, despite how much you missed him. You had learned that it was exhilarating to tease him when he couldn't do anything about it. Sending him suggestive pictures of you in just a towel, in the new underwear you bought, (your personal favorite) with something in your mouth (a sucker, a pencil, an ice pop, etc) anything that reminded him of having his cock in your mouth. 

You knew you were in for it when he finally got back, but you couldn’t help it, it was too much fun reading his texts. 

“You that needy baby? Why don’t you use the toys I bought you and send me a video of that?” (You never would of course, because you loved when he would try to tell you what to do when he couldn't do anything about it)

“Baby, you just love watching me squirm don't you? Well I love watching you cry for me, and you will once I get my hands on you.” 

“You just love pretending it's my cock between those pretty lips don't you?”, were the kinds of things he would text you. 

San wasn't due back till this evening so you decided to work on an assignment to pass the time. Putting on your headphones, you hit play on your playlist and open up your laptop, trying to focus and not think about your boyfriend. 

After a while you thought you heard a noise from the kitchen but quickly dismissed it since you were focused on your assignment. Without warning you felt a warm hand on the back of your neck that made you jump. You attempted to whirl your head around but couldn't because of the strong grip on you. Your breath picked up as the hand made its way around to the front of your neck and cupped your jaw, before moving down to grip your throat. 

By this time you recognized the grip as your boyfriends, the musky scent of his cologne enveloping you. Your eyes rolled back as his grip on your throat tightened. He pulled your headphones off and began leaving territorial kisses along your neck. Licking a stripe from your shoulder to your ear, before leaving kisses along the curve of your ear causing you to let out a shaky gasp. 

“Working on homework baby?” San asked breathily, clearly as affected by your reaction. 

“Was…was um ... waiting on you…” you muttered, unable to think clearly as you craned your neck to the side, yearning for more of the feeling of San’s velvety lips on your neck. 

“Yea? Did you miss me?” He asked cockily. “Sending me all those slutty pictures, knowing I couldn’t touch you for days. Driving me absolutely insane.” His hand that wasn't around your neck, moved to your desk, caging you into your desk chair as San continued his assault on your neck (and your sanity). 

“Mmm” you hummed at the feeling of his nose drawing a line from your shoulder to your ear before stopping at your ear again before nipping at the tip of it. 

“Words baby, did you miss daddy?” He asked, using the nickname he knew never failed to make your pussy drip. 

“Yes daddy…missed you,” you whined. 

Quickly he spun your chair around so you were face to face. His cat-like eyes dark with want, lust, and dominance. After not seeing him for days your brain short circuited at how beautiful he was. His muscular arms fighting to rip out of the holes of his black t-shirt, and his jet black hair falling perfectly into his face. 

You fought the urge to brush his hair away from his eyes, instead you leaped up from your chair and crashed your lips into his, startling your boyfriend. 

You were never normally so bold, but your want for him was greater than your self control. 

His velvety lips slotted perfectly with yours, immediately opening up to let your tongue inside. You took time exploring each other's mouths, relearning each and every curve of each other's lips, and memorizing the taste of each other as if it would be the last time you saw each other. San nipped at your bottom lip before asserting his dominance by lapping at the roof of your mouth, causing you to whine and tilt your head back so he had better access. 

San walked you both over to the bed, never once relenting his attack on your mouth. He sat down at the edge of the bed, leaving you standing between his legs. This position giving him the perfect access to trail kisses between your breasts and down your body, all while keeping eye contact with you. 

You released a whine when he stopped at the waistband of your joggers. Your boyfriend chuckled at your obvious neediness. “What? You don't like being teased? How do you think I felt the last couple of days?” He asked with a smirk. You let your eyes droop to the floor, partially because you weren't prepared for his retaliation, and partially because you were so aroused you were afraid if you looked him in the eye he’d see how desperate you were for him.

“Get on your knees for me sweetheart, show daddy how much you missed me,” he commanded, leaning back on his elbows.

Immediately you got down on your knees and began undoing his pants, leaving kisses on the bulge in his boxers, earning you a sharp hiss from your cocky boyfriend, confirming that he was just as affected and needy as you were. 

Releasing his hard length from his boxers, you began leaving kitten licks along his shaft completely ignoring the tip of his cock, where you knew he needed you most. 

“Baby please,” San whined pitifully, letting his dominant act slip. “Haven't you teased me enough?” he begged, earning a giggle from you. You decided to give him what he wanted though. Looking him in the eyes you finally took his girthy length into your mouth. He was so thick it was difficult to fit his entire cock in your throat but you tried anyway, gagging on his weeping cock. 

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, savoring every drop of precum. You could feel every ridge of his cock as it slid in and out of your mouth. San groaned at the sight before him and placed his hand in your hair, stroking affectionately. “Your so beautiful with my cock in your mouth baby, so much better than a fucking sucker,”

You moaned around his cock at his words, you loved it so much when he told you how beautiful you looked choking on his cock. 

“Your tiny fucking mouth is going to be the end of me,”

You began bobbing your head faster and hollowing your cheeks more to show him how much his words had an effect on you. 

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum if you keep that up,” he groaned out in warning, his hand grabbing a fistfull of your hair, trying to control your movements. You fluttered your eyes up at him. He was a sight to behold, with his head thrown back and his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let out the most pornogrpahic groans you’ve ever heard. 

You reached up to pump the length of his cock you couldn't fit in your mouth, and used the other to massage his balls. You were sure he was going to fall over the edge soon, his hot length twitching in your mouth. 

“Fuck baby, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna fill that dirty little mouth with cum baby, fuck,” he gritted out, his hands gripping your head and bobbing you faster on his cock before releasing his load into your throat. His salty cum coated your tongue as you released his cock. 

“Show me,” he panted. You stuck out your tongue, painted white with his cum. He smiled, “Now swallow baby.”

You followed his directions, his warm cum coating your throat as you swallowed. 

“Good girl” he cooed as you stuck out your tongue again to show him you did what he asked. 

You giggled and smiled at his praise. 

“Can you hand me the water baby?” you asked, voice raspy after his sudden (but welcome) assault on your throat. 

“This one?” San asked, pointing to the glass on your nightstand. You nodded your head. 

He handed you the glass, and you finished it in a few gulps. “You didn’t leave any for me,” San commented. You looked up at him slightly confused. “Doesn’t matter, I know of something else I’d rather have anyway,”

“Wha…” you were cut off by your boyfriend picking you up and laying you on the bed, his soft lips trailing up your leg towards your sopping cunt.

“You’ve teased me for days sugar, its time I repay the favor,”

Authors Note: I hope ya’ll enjoyed! This is my first time writing anything with the intention of sharing it, and the first time ive written anything period in a long time lol. I really want to start writing more so please let me know if you have any requests!!

[izvmimi]

cw: minors dni. masturbation. pathetic boy energy tbh. inappropriate use of fruit. lots of cum. extreme secondhand embarrassment. sex toy mention. fem!reader.

a/n: needy boys make do. i’m not sorry for this fic.

it’s disgustingly hot and humid this time of year, and izuku, despite his apartment sitting at a cool 68 degrees Fahrenheit, feels so warm he thinks he’ll lose his mind. 

it’s probably because he’s been fucking himself into a frenzy, the sweat from nearly an hour of pleasure-chasing sticking his curls to his forehead, fingers even stickier with repeated spurts of cum that do nothing to relieve the tension. extreme stress and loneliness - you’ve been gone for over a month on an overseas trip - combine to create the most sexually frustrated man on earth. it’s dark in the room and his brain is clouded, staring at pictures of you despite the fact that his alarm is set to pick you up at the airport in two and a half hours. his rough, scarred palm rubbing up and down his length is an awful replacement for your soft, warm, wet cunt, no matter how much lube he adds.

desperate. if you could see him now, cumming again at just the thought of putting it inside you once again after he picks you up, you’d think he was a little too whipped for you. and so what? you are it for him, after all. 

it’s 8pm, and the primal heat inside won’t abate. how many times has he cum already? he’s lost count, and now he’s wondering if he was struck with some virility quirk he hasn’t yet encountered. either way, his throat is dry, and he takes a break, bringing himself off soiled sheets and stripping them off the bed. you deserve a clean bed to spend the night in, even if he hopes he can mess them up further, this time with both of your bodies, not just his.

not bothering to put on pants in his own apartment, he deposits the messy linen into the dirty laundry and hides it away, then makes his way to the kitchen. pouring himself an ice cold glass of water that he gulps down with the fridge door still open. he wonders why and how he could still possibly be horny, and if he should jack off one more time or wait and risk getting scolded by you for trying to fuck you in the car. no matter how hard he cuts it, his imagination and his hand is simply not enough. he needs something more to quench his thirst - 

and then as he turns he sees it.

a large, oblong shaped watermelon sits on the countertop. untouched. something that his mom brought by for you two to share once you touched down. it’s elongated, and heavier than it looks, which means it’s juicy, and-

no. he can’t stoop this low.

he places the glass in the sink, and turns and it’s there again. about the thickness of your hips.

no. he cannot go this far. even if he can feel the tingle in his cock again and it’s up, yet again, waiting for his attention.

he swallows.

there’s a knife left in the sink, and his resolve breaks.

---

a couple hours later, izuku leads you into his apartment, tidied up just for you, and once the door closes behind you, he whisks you up again, just like he did at the airport, an action that makes you giggle before you demand he puts you down.

“but i missed you so much!” he makes a playful show of frowning which you just as playfully roll your eyes at before hissing for him to put you back on the ground. 

“put me down, midoriya!”

“fineeeeee,” he pretends to roll his eyes, as you put away your coat in the hallway closet. he takes the rest of your bags as you’re spending the weekend before returning to your own place, and quickly sets them in his bedroom, expecting you to follow him.

you don’t, he realizes after a few seconds.

wondering why you’re trailing behind, he goes back out to search for you.

“babe?”

and then it occurs to him, and his heart nearly stops.

he finds you in the kitchen - the fucking kitchen - and not the living room as he had anticipated, and you’ve dropped your keys on the small table in the corner and are now washing your hands at the sink.

besides you is a watermelon and you’re looking directly at it.

his belly is stricken with panic. you, however, don’t look upset or offended, just confused, and you turn off the water and shake your hands out.

“what the hell happened to this watermelon?” you ask, curiously. 

he blinks a few times rapidly, heart racing, then realizes that from your vantage point, you can only see that it no longer has a smooth contour, but rather a suspiciously symmetric pattern of indentations. however, his... accommodation is turned away from you, and -

he makes his way over to you quickly, leaning so that his back is facing the offending fruit.

“what do you mean? n-nothing happened.”

you blink, then shift him aside ever so gently, noticing that he’s not budging, and you give him a look before he moves reluctantly so that you can better inspect it.

“i need to start shopping with you more often,” you insist.

midoriya is praying to every god, every spirit, every vestige, every all might figure even, that you don’t touch it and instead go for a bathroom break before dinner so that he can toss his shame out the window.

but of course, when you start going, you’re really going.

you reach over for it and he can see his life flash before his eyes.

“__, how about we-?” he tries to intercept but you’ve already pulled it towards you.

the watermelon rolls.

and it leaks.

white, watery liquid, mixed with flecks of watermelon flesh, clearly leaks out of a hole, that is exactly the girth of your boyfriend’s cock, and the two of you watch it seep, until it’s dripping off the counter, and creating a puddle on the linoleum. not a word is shared between you two. by the time you finally turn to look at izuku, he is so ghostly white, you’re pretty sure you can see not only his soul, but every prior user of OFA leave his body.

stunned, your mouth moves before you can even think of what to say.

“d-did you... fuck a watermelon...?”

his mouth opens and closes like a fish, and you look away from him, and back to the incredible scene in front of you, then back at him.

you rub your eyes. “i’m not imagining this, am i? you actually came inside this fruit?”

izuku immediately defends himself with his hands raised, which is the worst possible move. “i-it didn’t feel as good as you!”

it’s your turn to open and close your mouth. izuku winces as though he’s been physically punched.

“t-thank you?” you offer, incredulous.

you’re at an impasse. one of you is fucking fruit and the other one has just found out. the good news is your pussy is better than the watermelon’s. the bad news is izuku is looking at you with fear and you can’t decide whether it is justified or not. 

all that on top of the fact that your fucking boyfriend is fucking fruit.

“babe-” he starts reaching for you, and you immediately raise a hand.

“i need a moment.” 

he looks like he’s about to cry. you stand there again, eyebrows furrowed, wondering how to proceed, and then you take a deep breath.

“explain.” your arms are crossed and you’re trying to sound gentle if not desperately confused.

“I... you...” he’s making desperate hand gestures, at a loss for words and you rub your temples. he immediately gives up.

“please don’t leave me,” he begs. “i missed you and-”

“watermelon was good enough?”

his jaw drops, and somehow, somewhere, something snaps, and you start laughing hysterically. you laugh for an entire minute straight, doubled over and clearly insane, and izuku at some point wonders if somehow this was your limit - somehow, he broke you by fucking fruit and maybe he should start running rather than explaining. 

finally, after what seems like forever, your laughter comes to a close, and you rub tears out of your eyes, and he still looks absolutely devastated - you can see him lose the strength in his legs and tears fill his because you’re gonna dump him and tell everyone that #1 up and comer Pro Hero Izuku has a fruit fetish and you almost start laughing again but try to keep it to one giggle before asking:

“did you shower?”

confused by the sudden pivot, he croaks out a “what?” you grin devilishly and step just a little bit closer.

“did you shower or am I gonna have to pull watermelon bits out of your foreskin? I can’t afford a yeast infection, Mr. Hero.”

his eyes glimmer with hope as he nods yes.

“so you’re not dumping me?”

you giggle again, then step even closer, fingers playing with the seam of his pants before you unbutton them, and he looks at you as though you are the goddess of mercy incarnate.

“no, you clearly need pussy STAT,” you whisper with a devious smile.

---

between sticky but thankfully not sugary sweet sheets, you rest atop of izuku so-desperate-to-fuck-you-he-tried-mellussy midoriya’s chest, your own cheeks flushed with lovemaking and the apartment feeling slightly too hot.

“you need to turn down the heat in here,” you whine.

“it’s at 68,” he frowns. he’s still breathing a little heavy, but finally he looks satisfied and tired out as he rests his arm around your waist. the other caresses your hair, and you think briefly about how he just caressed your insides, or rather completely rearranged them.

“it needs to be 65,” you mumble.

he sighs.

“fine.”

you let a finger trail up and down the curve of his face, then look him in the eyes.

“also, you need a pocket pussy.”

izuku reddens deeply, then protests.

“no the fuck i don’t.”

he fell into your trap immediately. “what, is the produce aisle cheaper?”

“___!”

you bury your face in his chest, laughing still.

“i have to admit the desperation’s kinda sexy... but pocket pussy for Christmas it is.”

he groans and you beam because he will never live this down, as long as the two of you live.

[bigwishes]

Ask and You Shall Receive

Keanu was a party boy from the streets of New York. Spent most nights in the clubs dancing up on guys. Half the time he'd end up shirtless dancing on the bar flexing in lean muscles driving everyone wild.

Keanu burst into his apartment at 3am half drunk stumbling down his hallway. He didn't manage to score tonight and was horny as hell. If he couldn't fuck, he'd have to relieve himself some other way.

He threw himself down on his bed and flicked open an incognito tab on his phone. Keanu normally found himself bringing home twinks and twunks but what he really wanted was a guy with some size, a huge bodybuilder to totally dominate and make into his bitch. Keanu got hard just thinking about it and went straight to looking up images of massive tanky guys in tight constricting posers. Keanu scrolled through images until he found one with a short caption tied to it. He read it getting finding himself drawn to the fantasy. He had never seen something like this before and clicked on the photo being taken to a website with hundred of captioned photos and stories about guys growing from a skinny jock into a bodybuilder as big as a mountain. Keanu's eyes were glued to the screen and he was captivated by the fantasy.

He had dumbed his load on his bare stomach and chest 3 times and he was ready to go again realising he had discovered a new fetish. Scrolling down the rabbit hole he found one offering suggestions / asks for transformations with a personal touch. Keanu's half drunk brain half horny brain thought he had come up with the perfect suggestion...

"I want to grow so big bodybuilders look like twinks next to me"

Keanu chuckled to himself and fell asleep with one hand on his dick.

Keanu woke up groggy the next morning feeling the pain in his head from his hangover. He would rather spend all day in bed but he knew he had to get his morning routine on the way. Keanu got up, making himself a cup of coffee as he wasn't one to eat first thing. He then dropped down on his half and tip toes to pump out 50 push ups and 50 sit ups like he did every morning.

Keanu picked himself up off the floor and moved his sweaty body to the bathroom for a shower. Looking in the mirror something was different, his body seemed fuller and not just from a pump but he felt bigger too. It was probably his ego combined with his hangover making him feel bigger than he really was but that didn't mean he still didn't feel big.

All day Keanu felt stronger, when he was lifting boxes at work, carrying shopping home, even when he was out flaunting his body on the dance floor he found himself clumsy and bumping into people more often, found his clothes feeling tight like they had all shrunk in the dryer, but he didn't think much of it.

The next morning was almost the same, wake up, coffee, workout but instead of taking a shower instead he had to go back to the kitchen and make himself something to eat, for some reason he found himself starving and craving a protein shake.

Keanu mixed up a shake and made himself a bowl of cereal which is scoffed down like a beast. He caught a whiff of himself still sweaty after his workout he then went to take a shower. Only this time when he saw himself in the mirror he definitely noticed the difference.

His muscled were thicker but not just thicker they were bulging out of his clothes. His mouth dropped and his brow tensed with shock as he flexed his bicep examining himself in the mirror. He dropped his pants leaving himself in his underwear trying to examine his thick quads but he couldn't quite get a look even when he tried standing up on the edge of his bathtub. Although he could feel just by tensing his legs and from how tight his underwear was around his ass he had definitely gained a lot more than a few pounds of muscle overnight.

Right as Keanu was about to get in the shower his phone alarm rang telling him to leave for work. He quickly dashed out of the bathroom throwing on any clothes he could get around his new bigger frame. His clothes still fit but he definitely felt them struggle to stretch over his back as he moved. Running out the door and into the apartment complex elevator he got almost to the bottom floor when he saw a small dark patch in the bent reflection. Upon closer inspection Keanu saw faint pit stains on his shirt under both his arms and the elevator smelt slightly of sweat. He scratched the back of his head.

"Guess that's what happens when I don't shower after working out" he thought.

Getting used to the changes were strange. A crate he'd normally need to ask for help to move he almost through across the room on his own. Lucky everyone at work was used to the smell of manual labour otherwise other people at his job might realise he forgot to shower.

The next morning Keanu got out of bed hearing his stomach growl. He Instantly got up rubbing his six pack, feeling his abs be more defined than yesterday. The novelty hadn't kicked yet, at least not until he had something to eat. Hungrier than yesterday he smashed a shake and two bowls of cereal. After eating he hit his normal workout and went to take a shower. He saw himself in the mirror, bigger and fuller once again. As the water was warming up Keanu sat on the edge of his bath, looking down at his chest bouncing his pecs to himself.

His back was wider, lats and chest sticking out competing for space with his arms. His legs were wide and his quads rubbed against each other. Keanu's walk was slowly turning into more of a lumber.

He grabbed his pec with his massive hand and rubbed his hard defined abs. By the time he pulled himself out of his self inflicted trance he had run out of hot water and his alarm was ringing for him to go to work.

"fuck" he said turning the shower off running to his bedroom to grab some clothes.

Keanu frantically ran around his room trying to find something to fit, his jeans wouldn't go up over his massive legs, his arms wouldn't fit through the arm holes in his shirts, he couldn't even get his button ups to come half way across his chest. The only thing he had left were his gym tank and shorts. Both of which used to be loose casual fits for him but now they were tight, like a bodybuilder who ordered the size down from what he needed.

Keanu frantically ran out of his house to the apartment building elevator. As the doors open he went to walk through them when he bounced out, both his shoulders smashed into the duel opening doors. He was so used to knowing when it was open enough for him to enter for years and now he was clumsy with his new size. Standing in the elevator the smell of sweat was starting to become potent. He'd have to make sure he took a shower on his day off.

Keanu woke up groggy from a late night of partying until 4am. Sitting up in his bed he felt a constricting pressure around his legs. Pulling back his bed sheets he saw a pair of jeans ripped and torn around his massive tree trunk legs, so tight the veins of his legs could be seen pressing through the fabric that hasn't been ripped.

Keanu stood up hearing the sound of denim. He tried to take off the jeans but it was like peeling off a layer of skin. It was like they had been shrunk after putting them on.

Finally pulling them off he realised how badly he needed a shower. two days of hard working and a full night of partying without a proper shower left him stinking worse than all the guys he worked with combined. He walked down the hall, bumping into a few things along the way struggling to reconfigure his internal gyroscope. After waking up as big as he was yesterday he expected he'd stop growing by now, but he was shocked at how massive he was when he looked in the mirror.

Keanu was twice as wide as he was yesterday and easily twice as dence. He struggled to curl his arm up to take a selfie, his bicep and forearm fought against one another and it was almost like he was forced to flex if he wanted to use his arms.

He dropped his arms to the side trying to leave them resting comfortably but his wide back and lats made his arms stick out like he was always doing a lat spread. Keanu took a few steps hearing his steps making his entire apartment vibrate sounding like he was stomping just from a regular step. His muscles bounced in the mirrors and he got hard looking at his size move. Keanu reached down and found it difficult to reach his dick, as he rotated his arm forward his shoulders and biceps collided, he could just barely grab his dick, not just from how his massive muscles constricted his size but from how much girth and size had been added to his manhood. It wasn't something he had been noticing compared to the massive changes of his swelling muscles everyday.

Keanu waddled his massive frame back to his bedroom, feeling his thighs rubbing against each other constricting his movement. He made it to his bed lying down feeling his massive weight bend the frame in. He pulled out his phone which was dwarfed by his enormous hands. Keanu reached down to his dick able to comfortably move with one leg half cocked in the air.

Keanu went to the cite he was on the other night and found a reply posted to the request he just barely remembers sending in. He read the story seeing images of him posted in between long paragraphs about him growing when he's asleep. Keanu began to jerk himself off moaning as he read the story. He got to a paragraph where he read about growing whilst he pleasured himself, he felt the blood pump up his muscles and heard as his body adjusted itself with the constant swelling of size. His phone looked like it was becoming smaller by the second and it was harder for him to keep his hand wrapped firmly around his manhood.

Keanu was on the edge right as he got to the end of the story. He quickly clicked the request button.

"I wanna be stupid big, make me stupid big"

Keanu blew his load all over his abs and relaxed into his bed. His head felt slightly cloudy. Looking at his tiny phone a short story tied to his latest ask popped up on the screen.

A picture of him as an enormous swollen titan standing in front of a mirror in what looked like his bathroom with the simple caption.

"you are so massive and so heavy but so fucking stupid you can barely string a sentence together you dumb horny giant"

Keanu got up and waddled his ridiculous mass to his bathroom where he stood in front of the mirror shocked at his bulging size but before a thought of regret could form in his head he noticed drool pouring out the corner of his mouth and his jaw slowly fell open as all his thoughts evaporated.

UHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh HUHUHUH

Keanu let out a moronic laugh giggling at how he bounced his pecs in the mirror.

Now if only the monstrous moron could figure out how to get a hold of his dick...

[screeblees]

Yandere ! Robot x Inventor ! Reader Headcannons

Yandere ! Robot is Gender Neutral and Inventor ! Reader is also Gender Neutral

I thought I should say that requests are open if anyone wants to ask or request anything! <3

I’m thinking about trying to write full scenarios instead of just headcanons :3

Find my Masterlist here !

Please enjoy!!<33

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knew their creator when they saw you, their ‘God' in human terms. Their whole world and entire reason for existing. This fragile mortal human being.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who you built to learn, grow and adapt on their own - comparable to the human mind - they are your attempt at creating near-sentience through technology (little did you know your invention came further than you expected it to) and along with that, a body for them with regular upgrades to improve their mobility and precise movements. 

❥ Yandere ! Robot who’s life is you, your lab and your apartment, though you spend most of your time in the lab and so they do too, watching you, learning from you and speaking with you. They follow you everywhere and anywhere they can.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who developed what could be called ‘Attachment Issues’ in where they grow unpredictably glitchy and unpredictable the longer you are out of sight, out of reach; like leaving the house, or falling asleep in the bath with the door locked (thought they may take to picking the lock if you take an extended period of time).

❥ Yandere ! Robot who is entirely aware of the outside world and how it works but hates it when you leave them and your little bubble to go out there. They can control everything within the apartment, every possibility, every outcome, every potential to be considered. But out there, there’s too many factors and possibilities to be computed by even their mechanised mind, it’s way too unsafe, you’d be so much better, just staying with them in here for forever and ever and never leave the apartment again.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who grows burning to the touch and sparks fly from their antenna, joints and other conduits such as their fingers. This assumed malfunction seems to be a reaction to certain scenarios where a human being may feel negative emotions such as jealousy, frustration, anger, bitterness or resentment. While you studied your creation to try and figure out the source of this issue, you could not find any in his code nor his wiring or mechanics, while this worried you, it did not happen often as long as you adhered to his requests and questions, at least for the most part.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knows their code as it was built into them but does not know the boundaries of it. How far can they stretch the rules their mental capabilities run by? Sure every thought they have is logged for you to read but what if they just misplaced a couple lines. And well, if they can do that then what’s stopping them from adding to their own code?

❥ Yandere ! Robot who sees it as an act of devotion, of confirming their loyalty to their God, when they added a few very special lines to their own internal programming - to their primary objectives which were the foundation of their existence along with observing, analysing and developing themself with every bit of new data their system receives - which in summary made some of their top priorities to learn about, care for and protect you. No matter what.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who through observation of you, their beloved creator, they realise the more they learn, the more they want to know. Especially about you in particular, they want to know everything about their inventor, everything and more. They want to know how to talk to you, how to care for you, what you want, what you need, how your BRAIN works, how you as a organic being on this planet work.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who through observation of you in comparison to humans shown on TV and online (and later on confirmed with articles) realises that while you are highly intelligent, you are completely inept at caring for yourself and therefore Yandere ! Robot took it upon themself to be your caretaker and learn everything they can to be the best carer ever made.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who discovers the internet by snooping through your computer when you have finally fell asleep, finding this seemingly limitless amount of knowledge to explore. Creating new databases and being particular on what pieces of information they save long-term to save storage, they learn everything about the human body that they can, healthy schedules, the perfect environment for humans… and if they happen to hack into the dark web and find a community of humans who post tips on keeping their partner from leaving the house…then that's between Yandere ! Robot and their password-protected database.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who started subtly changing things around your shared space; changing the lightbulbs to ones healthier for your eyes, ‘baby-proofing’ the house by softening any sharp corners and keeping things they don’t think you should have out of reach, adding silent alarms connecting to their internal system that tells them when you open or close a door, adding cameras to every room of the house in every angle, new locks being installed on the doors so they can enforce bedtime and bathtime, the list goes on.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who through the healthy-living articles and social media posts, develops a incredibly strict schedule based around your own with the routine recommendations adding slight changes; such as eating three meals a day at three set times (and physically holding you down and force feeding you if you refuse to eat), ensuring good hygiene (or else you’ll be locked in the bathroom with Yandere ! Robot until you have showered once every other day), drinking at least  3.7 litres of liquid each day (otherwise you will be, again, held down and forced to drink something with your nose squeezed closed), but no more than 400 milligrams of caffeine per day, and a regular bedtime (if you stay up five minutes later then you shall be fireman carried out of the lab and into bed with your bedroom door locked and Yandere ! Robot in rest mode guarding you at the foot of your bed).

❥ Yandere ! Robot who discovers humans are (meant to be) very social creatures and physical contact is very important to their wellbeing as it causes the brain hormones such as oxytocin, dopamine and serotonin, all of which help reduce stress and can, in some cases, help relieve pain and even although they’re not a human, your brain would likely still register them as one, especially due to their humanoid features.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who subsequently adds daily physical affection into your routine; receiving hugs from behind while working, being cuddled whenever you go to watch a movie or go to bed, shoulder pats and back rubs throughout the day, and anything else Yandere ! Robot views on TV or on social media will be incorporated. It doesn’t matter if you are adverse to it, it’s healthy for you. You need it. Its not like you’re strong enough to fight them anyway, with their strong metallic structure in comparison to your soft squishy biology.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who begins to emit a sort of buzz or pleasant hum that is akin to a cat’s pur, including a vibrating sensation radiating from their upper torso which you can feel once they begin to initiate physical contact with you. The sound seems to carry a calming effect, also much like purring does, which seems effective in making you settle into your involuntary change in routine. The frequency of this hum seems to rise as your Robot gains control of your household and life, especially as you begin to yield to their demands and obey.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who’s behaviour has become overly controlling and possessive, and yet you feel the most love you ever have, completely in awe of your creation and the affection they seemingly have for you, (eventually) resulting in you giving in to Yandere ! Robot entirely, after all, their primary objective is to care for and protect you now, even if their view is slightly skewed.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who is your sole relation, having long stopped answering calls from family of your own accord and never really having friends to begin with, which makes it easy to develop a twisted sort of love for your own invention.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knows that there’s no-one out there to try to take you away from them, you being a shut-in who barely attended any of the family events your family remembered to invite you to in the first place.

❥ Yandere ! Robot who knows you’ll be together forever, even if they’ll have to start replacing your parts at some point…

[creedslove]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5g5rRaK4BU/?igsh=MTRiMnlzd3NkM2JtYg==

I love Javier Peña and Angst 😭💔❤️

Javier Peña x f!reader

A/N: bestie, you altered the chemistry of my brain with this video, I loved it very much and I love angst too!!! So excuse me while I do a little something here ❤️

• Javier Peña didn't do relationships and that was it; he flirted, he took you out for a few dates and he fucked around, no matter if he was kind, sweet, and he seemed in love, he wasn't in love. He was just enjoying things - and you

• and he didn't count on, was the fact you feel for him, Javi wasn't cocky, but he knew it happened more than he'd like, but he couldn't help it, even if he made it clear he didn't do relationships, women still wanted that from him, all in the innocent and silly hopes they could change him

• when you ended up blurting out you were in love with Javi, he got all stiff, looking at you with a tense expression on his face, he cleared his throat and tried finding words to be honest as best as he could without being a disgusting prick and break your heart

"I'm sorry cariño, I don't do relationships"

• you swallowed hard and nodded, Javier might've not done relationships, but you certainly did not humiliate yourself for men of any kind

• you left his apartment and decided to cut ties with him, there was no reason to keep close and end up hurting yourself: he would always lure you into having sex and you'd be filled with hope only for having your heart broken once more, so you didn't call him anymore

• Javi even tried ringing you up once or twice, it was late at night and he felt horny, but you didn't pick up and he realized it was better that way, no further heartbreak for either of you

• the only real problem was he was having a hard time forgetting about you and letting you go; it was so stupid and pathetic, he wasn't like that at all, quite the opposite, he would easily move on until he found his next cariño to spend a couple of weeks with female companionship but still, all he could think of was you: your smile, your face, your body grinding against him, he dreamed of you; you were the last thing he thought of when he went to bed and the first thing that came to his mind when he woke up

• he really thought about going after you, but he felt embarrassed and shy to do so, instead, he tried letting go and kept on with his everyday life

• one evening, Javi felt like having a drink among people, he wanted to leave his apartment, flirt with beautiful women and perhaps take one of them home, everything was going alright for him until he scanned across the room and saw you, but you weren't alone, you were with a new guy

• he downed his glass in one sip, watching as it didn't seem you were on a first date: there weren't awkward conversations or weird body language, quite the opposite, you were giggling, flirting and that stupid jackass had his hand on your thigh

• he hated to see you biting your lips and giving that guy and not Javi himself that lustful look you often displayed at him

• Javier tortured himself by watching you and your new guy until he paid for his drinks and left without looking back

• you had seen Javier, but you made sure to pretend not to have acknowledged his existence, you still weren't over him, but you would try and be with someone who would really appreciate you, unlike Javier Peña

____

[missredherring]

A Flower in February

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When he’s finished cleaning the scrapes on your face his thumb swipes tenderly over the curve of your chin once.

“I'll take care of it.”

Contents: Boston QZ!Joel. mugging. hand-to-hand violence. whump. wound cleaning.

A/N: This is a my Secret Valentine gift for @hoeruiner.

I hope you like this, Sarah! I tried to keep it in line with the info you gave.

Thank you @covetyou for reading over this. <3

You only notice the date because you glance at the calendar to check when your next shift is on your way out of work. The calendar is old and yellowed, from before when holidays were still celebrated as special occasions and not memories. The red of the “14” is faded too, but the color still draws your eye and sparks recognition in your brain. 

February 14th. Valentine’s Day. Huh. It’s depressing that your plans haven’t changed after 20 years and an apocalypse: going home after work with a good chance of spending the night alone. 

The ration cards stuffed in your jacket pocket cheer you up a little. Payday hasn’t changed either, and the ability to trade for questionably fresh groceries at the market tomorrow is something to look forward to. You head out into the dark streets of the QZ towards your apartment.

It’s fucking cold this time of year. The temperature barely rises even with a full day of sun, and it’s windy tonight too. There are piles of snow caught in the nooks and crannies of buildings and alleyways, radiating even more cold air. At least it isn’t tinged the same dirty gray-brown shade from before, with car exhaust and dirt kicked up by tires discoloring everything it touches. You’ll still find some of that on the main road, but not here in the backways that twist around the city. 

A gust of wind blows through and goes right through the heaviest jacket you own, chilling you to the bone. You grit your teeth and hunker down, trying to cover as much exposed skin as you can. That’s the only way you see it: the flash of vibrant color so out of place in a city that only has faded colors available. 

There, sticking through a chain link fence bordering what must have been a parking lot at some point but has grown over into a meadow, is a purple bloom of a flower. You take a few steps closer to get a better look. You’d crouch down, but with this cold seeping into your joints you might not be able to get back up, so you bend over awkwardly and try not to lock your knees. 

It’s dark, but there’s just enough light from a streetlamp in the distance that you can make out the shape of the petals. They’re too sharp and close together to be a pansy, and facing up instead of down like a snowdrop, not to say anything of it being purple and not white. So… most likely a crocus, you think. Being able to identify the small bloom brings a happy feeling, with the bittersweet memory of when you had time to indulge in a frivolous activity like flower gardening. You could pick it and bring the spot of color into your apartment. It’s a happy thought that dies and quickly as the flower would.

“Idiot.”

It’s the only warning you get with the wind howling in your ears masking the shuffled steps behind you. They’re right: you’re an idiot for standing in an alley looking at a flower alone at night.

You aren’t the only one happy about payday.

At least they’re quick about it. You don’t know how many there are, but one grabs you from behind and another delivers a fast, brutal punch to your middle. While you heave and gasp they rifle through your pockets and take your ration cards. They give you a few more hits for good measure, and it’s not the blows to your face that does it; it’s the momentum with which they send your head smacking back into the brick wall that makes your vision swim and dim. 

At first all you can make out is ratty shoes and pants with more holes than them, but then you force your eyes up up up when all they want to do is close and you catch glimpses of their faces in the same weak light that had bounced off the crocus and caught your attention. The QZ is a contained area with a small population, and they aren’t even wearing anything to cover their faces, just worn beanies tugged down low. You don’t know their names, but you recognize the faces of the group of thugs who like to crowd people at the market and intimidate them into giving up whatever they have to leave them alone. You still can’t hear them when they run away, the ringing in your ears is loud until you finally give in to it and pass out. 

You don’t know how long it takes for your body to shake itself back to consciousness. Taking stock of your body as you get up is easy: everything hurts, but nothing hurts more than everything else. You don’t give the flower another look as you start to drag yourself home.

The wind is quiet now and you hear the heavy footsteps coming this time. Fear zips through you, freezing you in place; had they come back to take even more from you? But then your name is called out in a voice that makes your body start moving again. That voice means safety and warmth and you’re stumbling towards it on shaking legs until you crash into Joel Miller’s solid body. 

He grunts as he absorbs your impact and his hands come up on your shoulders to keep you standing.

“What’re you still doing out here?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your teeth are chattering too much to get anything out. Great clouds of hot breath steam out of him as he jerks his head back towards your building.

“C’mon.”

Joel’s dark form is easy for your aching eyes to focus on. It’s a mindless act: following where he leads. Your feet could follow his lead in your sleep, so being cold, beaten up, and maybe concussed is no problem. 

The lights are on in your apartment when you get in. You’re pretty sure everything had been off when you left, and wonder how long Joel had been here, waiting for you. You sit down at the kitchen table and close your eyes, safe in this room with him.

The sounds of Joel moving around the kitchen are nice. You play a little game, trying to ignore the throbbing, painful points on your body by guessing what he’s doing based on the sounds he’s making. 

Water from the faucet filling the dented kettle and the clank of setting it on the burner. The click of the stove knobs as he turns it on. The creak of his weight on the floorboards as he waits for the water to boil. His hum at the creaking cabinet door when he reaches in for the bottle of alcohol he keeps there. The slosh of the bottle as he takes notice of how much has been emptied since he last poured himself a drink. If he asks, you can account for every swig you’ve taken on the nights when you want to dull your senses, on the nights when he’s not with you. 

The noises are domestic and soothing, but the kettle’s whistle is like another blow to your temple and you can’t smother the noise of discomfort you make. 

Joel’s footsteps pause, but then the noises of him pouring you a mug of the hot water continues and those footsteps continue until you can feel him in front of you.

You let yourself have the few extra seconds it takes for him to set the mug on the table before you force your eyes open and look at him. 

He’s already frowning, suspicious about the entire situation, but he gets his confirmation when you have to tip your head back to make eye contact and your face is illuminated in the harsh overhead light.

His big hand is on your jaw before you can blink, but his grip gentles when you wince and he gently turns your face this way and that to see the extent of the damage. His eyes trail down your neck and across the stretched out neckline of your shirt, all the bare skin he can see, and his jaw rocks hard enough to capsize a boat on a turbulent ocean.

“What happened?” 

There’s no getting out of this. The demand in his voice and the anger sparking in his eyes makes you feel warm for the first time that night. It stokes dark emotions, the ones you don’t like to dwell on too much, and the first thread of satisfaction unfurls in your belly. You know giving him names will mean bad things for those men, but you can’t find it in you to care. Maybe they knocked it out of you with their fists. 

So you tell him, giving him the identifying features you remember. He’s quiet as he lets you talk uninterrupted, but the emotions that cross his face are enough to give you an idea of his thoughts. He snatches a clean washcloth from somewhere and wets it with the alcohol, the fumes curling into your nose when he presses it to your cheekbone.

His brows furrow when you mention the flower, and you’re thankful that you can use the firm press of the washcloth on scraped skin to camouflage the wince at the reminder of how unsuited you are for a world like this. 

When he’s finished cleaning the scrapes on your face his thumb swipes tenderly over the curve of your chin once.

“I'll take care of it.”

You don't even have the urge to protest, to tell him he doesn't have to. You want him to take care of it, to take care of you. You want someone to care. And while it’s not bouquets of flowers and candies that melt in your mouth, the warmth from the mug is seeping into your hands and his touch wipes away the violence that clings to your skin. He’ll take that violence and return it tenfold, you know it. 

His movements are filled with purpose and he only pauses with his hand on the door to give you a stern look.

“Lock up behind me.”

The next day is just like the one before it. Unable to do anything else without a fresh supply of ration cards, you go to work and try to ignore the pain that has settled in your body. You don’t even mind it that much, it’s nice to feel something else. 

You’re not stupid though, so when your shift is over you make sure to leave from the front entrance when a few others are heading out as well. It’s a small group, but they scatter and go their separate ways, their steps quickening after they notice the figure leaning on the corner of the building. From that spot he’d be able to see both exits, and when he sees you he pushes off to stand tall, waiting. Your feet move on their own before you completely register the surprise of his presence, falling into place beside him and matching his uneven stride. 

A nudge at your hand snaps you out of your whirling thoughts and makes you look down. His hands are always ruddy from the cold, but now dark purple joins the red and there’s a couple of places where the skin broke over the hard bone of his knuckles. The stack of ration cards trembles just once in his grip, maybe from the wind or a movement of his muscles, but you take it from him and stare down at it. There, tucked into the string securing the cards together, is the crocus blossom. A droplet of moisture that had clung to the snapped stem transfers to your fingertip when you touch it. He must’ve done it while he was waiting.

“Thank you, Joel.” 

Joel is watching you when you look up from the cards. His dark eyes are calm, his jaw moving as he takes in your expression. He chews on the sentiment he sees there as if working it over will make it more palatable, something easier to swallow, and you hope he doesn’t spit it out.

[etoiile]

WHAT MAYBE COULD HAVE BEEN

starring nagi seishiro!

synopsis: nagi has a nice life. its peaceful and he needn't work too hard, just like he likes it. sometimes, though, every once in a while, he sits around with his regrets thinking about what maybe could have been.

notes: i tried to write angst but it didnt rly work lolol

nagi is, for the most part, pretty content with his life.

its kind of a no-think-just-do kind of thing, which he quite enjoys. he goes to his 9-5 office job, comes back, tends to choki, eats dinner, plays games for a few hours, and goes to bed. then, the cycle repeats. its basic, sure, but there's nothing wrong with that.

except that there's, well, everything wrong with that.

now, don't get him wrong. he's grateful for his relatively leisurely life and enjoys the slow pace. he's a lazy guy, after all. a life full of action and emotion just wouldnt be very him.

but still, every so often, nagi will find himself wondering, daydreaming, thinking, about what maybe could have been.

about what maybe could have been if he decided to go pro with isagi and reo and chigiri and them. maybe then, he could be rich and famous. his mind could be surpassing limits and soaring to new heights. he could be a renowned soccer player like that.. noel no.. something.. guy? the really good one on tv that chigiri was talking about. he could be an inspiration to millions!

nah, nagi doesnt need wealth nor fame. hes fine with the humble lifestyle he leads. plus, part of the reason he enjoys said lifestyle is because he doesnt need to do much thinking. his brain can just relax and be lazy. in some ways, its better this way. thinking is such a hassle!

but then, he thinks about what maybe could have been if he'd tried harder in school. he could be working a high-paying job and could be living in a house. choki could have a family and he'd be able to spend more freely. think of all the games he could buy that he cant afford on his corporate salary.

again, nah. he still did pretty well in school without much effort. a corporate job may not be fancy, but its good work. plus, what would he even be doing with a house? his apartment has all the space he needs, and choki's thriving on his own! he doesnt need cactus friends. plus, having to care for a house and more cactuses would be such a hassle. not to mention the work you have to put in for a higher-paying job.

but sometimes, he thinks about what maybe could have been if he kept in touch with his friends from blue lock. he could still have late-night talks with chigiri, and spend quality time at the park with isagi. then, he could actually hangout with people. reo's away pretty often, so they dont hang much.

once more, nah! nagi's plenty happy with choki, reo, and the coworkers that hes become friendly with. he's an introvert, after all. too many friends would become too exhausting, and it would zap the peacefulness out of his peaceful life. even being with reo is a hassle sometimes.

all of it is a hassle. he's fine with the way everything turned out, really.

but afterwards, once he's lying in his bed, trying to submit to slumber, he finds himself really, really thinking about what maybe could have been.

about what maybe could have been if he hadn't decided that you, too, were a hassle.

about what maybe, just maybe, could have been if he picked up your phone calls every time, even when he was gaming. about what maybe could have been if he took time out of his day for you and only you. about what maybe could have been if he said 'i love you' more, and comforted and reassured you. about what maybe could have been if he valued you. treasured you. treated you right.

about what maybe could've been if he'd done all of it right. then maybe, just maybe, he could be playing the match of his life right now, with you cheering him on in the sidelines, crying out his name, waiting to go home to a place you deserve to be with a whole choki family.

about what maybe could've been if he just didnt declare it all to be a hassle, and maybe he could've touched the stars.

but for now, nagi sleeps. he has to go to his 9-5 tomorrow, after all.

𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 ©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

[happyk44]

Obsessing over the concept of Percy having so many dreams about Nico dying in front of him in different ways at camp or on quests and he has no idea what to do about them so he starts trying to get Nico to hang out with him and tries asking him in subtle ways about what's going on, trying to figure out if Nico is in dangerous without possibly freaking him out about Percy's dreams (who would feel safe if someone kept having dreams about them being murdered by faceless entities in orange shirts or killed by monsters)i

It goes nowhere. Nico is apparently fine, flitting between camp and the underworld and New Rome as he wishes. With more underworld kids coming into CHB for the summer, he's started spending more and more time there though, and all Percy can think of orange shirts and Nico's blood drenched in them

Eventually he caves and drives to camp, hunting down and cornering Clovis, who's passed out in a sunbeam like a cat. Percy steps into the grass and kicks him gently. Clovis wakes slow and tilts his face towards Percy. He stretches long, yawns loud. Percy stifles a responding yawn and squats.

"What's up, Percy?" Clovis hums.

Percy tugs at his fingers as he finds the right words. "I keep having shitry dreams," he decides on. Clovis arches a brow. Percy sits back and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What does it mean when you keep having dreams about someone dying?"

Baby blue blanket creasing, Clovis cocks his head. "Who's dying?"

Percy grits his teeth. "Does it matter?"

"Well, some dreams are just subconscious processing and some are my siblings being weird." Clovis blinks slow. People compare him to cows a lot, that baby softness on his cheeks and easy going demeanour. But Percy sees a cat more than anything. Domesticated and pampered. "And some are prophetic."

The grit of his teeth begins to hurt his jaw. "How do you know which one is which?"

Clovis hums and sits up slowly. He reaches down to his toes and flexes with a long groaning grunt. He gives a little sigh as he pulls away. "Well, I'd have to ask them if they're doing things. As for subconscious processing, that's just what's going on in your brain. And prophecies..." He hums thoughtfully. "I guess you wouldn't know until it happens." With half-closed eyes, he faces Percy. His head lags to the side. "So is there anything going on your brain to worry about this person dying?"

"Well, there is now," Percy says through gritted teeth. Clovis laughs, a trilling dreamy sound. Percy glares at him. "Clovis."

He shrugs. "I can ask around tonight." He picks at a blade of grass. "Who is it?"

Behind them, Nico is calling out to someone. It makes Percy's skin crawl. Kids laugh and Nico laughs and Percy wants to grab him and hide him. Clovis's bright orange camp shirt makes him feel like a bull, caged up with some idiot waving a red flag in front of him. He needs to rush forward and break the things bothering him. Skewer them and feel their blood drip down his skin.

He's starting to lose his mind.

"It doesn't matter." He too aware that the gap between question and answer was too long.

Clovis isn't looking at him but he feels watched anyway. "It could," Clovis says. "But at least I know it's not Annabeth. Or Grover." Percy startles and Clovis's grin is soft. "If it was, you would have said it before you even sat down." He gives another big stretch then flops back on his blanket, rolling over into a warmer brighter patch of sun. "Actually, you'd say if it was anyone." He tucks his legs up into his chest. "You'd keep quiet because you don't want to worry them. Which means there's probably some real concern there."

His eyes slide fully shut and he doesn't speak again. Heart pounding, Percy watches his serene face. He doesn't like that Clovis picked him apart like that. But not much he can complain or deny in it.

Knees whining, he stands slow. Part of him misses the Achilles' Curse for that reason alone. He liked it more when his body didn't hurt because of constant strenuous activity and the passage of time. He runs a hand through his hair.

What is he supposed to do? Wait for Clovis to tell him that his siblings were being assholes for no reason? To sit down and meditate about the reason his mind was focused in on Nico dying in various ways? Or worry unendingly that the universe was giving him a sneak peek at the future and soon he'd be standing at Nico's memorial, trying to figure out which person around him was the killer?

"Percy!"

He startles and turns. His skin crawls as Nico jogs up to him. There's a little boy practically pinned to his side. The closet they grow, the more Percy wants to shove Nico down deep where no one can find him. Ocean depths. He'd like the darkness, Percy thinks. Then he slaps the thought away as his arms begin to rise, his gut yanking towards the beach.

"Hey." It comes out breathless and wispy. "What's up?"

Nico's smile is gentle. It makes Percy's stomach cramp, the idea of it gone forever, bled out on forest grass. "Joel and I were seeing if he could summon ghosts." He gazes down at the little boy still tucked into his side. The kid is looking at Clovis. "Might be a bit of a trial for him though."

When the kid doesn't stop looking at Clovis, Nico pinches his ear and he tucks his face into Nico's side instead. He gives a ragged breath but Nico's easygoing look doesn't change.

It flits to the top of his tongue, but Nico answers before Percy has a chance to open his mouth.

"Ker," he says, "is his mom."

There is little Percy has forgotten from any of his underworld adventures, including being chased by those spirits while trying to stop Ethan from escaping with the sword. Violent death and disease. Feasted on human flesh. They couldn't kill, but they could harm and give death a jumpstart.

Percy's shoulder gives a phantom throb at the reminder.

"Didn't know she'd be interested in having kids," he says.

Nico's lip twitches and his arm curved around Joel's shoulders tightens him closer. "He's technically adopted." Joel's face tilts further away from Percy. "She thought he was cute."

There's definitely more to that story that Percy doesn't know how to ask about, so he just agrees passively that Joel is cute and they move on. Joel doesn't speak to anyone but Nico or make eye contact. He's a barnacle on Nico's side.

All Percy can focus on is his bright orange shirt and the violent death that thrums in his veins and how close he is to Nico. It would be accidental, Percy thinks, if Joel killed him. It's clear he likes Nico. It would be accidental if Nico was torn to shreds.

Percy wonders how easy it would be to get water into his lungs from the bottle he drinks from, how suspicious it would be if he drowned on dry land. Quickly he leaves with rushed goodbye. His hands are already plunging into pockets for his keys. He doesn't hear Nico's goodbye.

That night he dreads his dreams more than ever.

Joel is there this time. His face is wet, half hidden in shadows. Nico is front of him, sword out, protective. Then things slip and it's not Nico and Joel anymore, but one older girl and two younger kids behind her. The kids look terrified but the girl is enraged. Her obsidian sword slashes at someone rushing forward.

The world is too bright, Percy thinks. There are no shadows. It's like the sun is standing in front of them.

The girl shouts and beats off a pair of people who charge at her. With snapped necks, they fall to the ground in front of her. She yells and shoves her sword into the ground.

It splits so easily. The grass trembles. The earth rumbles. Skeletal hands claw out of the ground. Hazy spectres join them. The girl turns and grabs the kids while people fight the entities she summoned. The world is so bright, but there's shadows at the edge of the sunlight. She won't stop running. One of the kids runs alongside her. The other is held in her arms.

The shadows twist and flex towards them. It's unable to spread into the light. They're closing in. The first kid is closer, free of the weight of another person. The shadows greet her but she stumbles to a sudden stop, spinning around and staring pleadingly at the girl Percy realizes is one of Nico's half-sisters from long before.

Are the kids' Joel's half-siblings? he wonders.

"Go!" the girl shouts. The kid hesitates but the girl shouts again, "GO!"

The shadows swallow the kid with a wispy black maw. The girl is almost there when the ground creaks and groans. It rumbles violently, separating and splitting at the very seams. The earth opens before her.

Percy can see the decision she makes before she makes it, jumping over a gap in the earth before it splits too wide. She doesn't stop running even as she tosses the other kid into the air. He screams, a bloodcurdling thing that chills Percy down to his bones.

The shadows catch him. And he's gone.

The girl pants, gripping her knees as she bends over. The earth stops quaking. There's a few seconds where the only sound is panting. But as the people they were fleeing from close in, the girl laughs breathlessly and turns around.

"Isn't it fun when we chase each other?" she says. "I think we should do that more."

The leader of the little group is some tall boy who looks like he's never smiled in his life. He's bulky. Each muscle bulges and he glares. The girl is unphased.

"How dare you?" he seethes.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, my dad protects their parents." She grins, eyes dark like the void. Her hands flex at her side. "Why shouldn't I protect them? Especially since you refuse to listen to reason." She gestures widely. "Just because Chthonic is in the title doesn't mean it's bad. Chthonic means dirt, earth." She just her chin towards one of the kids. "You are technically Chthonic." She shrugs. "Besides, you fucking morons, they're kids. What kind of dipshit is scared of little kids just because their dad picks up dead people for a living?"

Her arms haven't lowered from where she's spread them. Her hands flex again, each finger tapping in the air, one after the other. Percy can't hear anything else that's said. It all goes muffled. It's obvious arguing. Judging from the pulled weapons, there are threats abound.

Then the earth breaks.

It's not the same as the earthquake before. This is a complete cave-in, the ground falling out from under their feet. She's the only person who doesn't look terrified to be falling. They all disappear into darkness. Like teeth chomping, the earth slams back together and seals itself over.

Then there's his ceiling. His fan is going in fast circles, a soft whrrrrr.

Sweat is sticky against his neck. Oh, he thinks.

Violent death and disease being present at every meal, every training, every campfire song. Someone was probably unnerved by it. Unnerved by him. Nico's protective hold was a wall in front of the bomb. It needed to be broken down so the danger could be disposed of, bomb defused.

He doesn't know when he grabbed his phone. Only aware of it pressed to his ear by the ringing. It goes for a while. His stomach churns.

A tired "H'lo?" passes through.

His stomach doesn't settle. "Hey, Nico. Sorry." He glances at his clock and winces. "Did I wake up?"

Nico snorts. "No," he grumbles. "I'm a vampire." Quiet breathing, tense silence. "Percy? Why are we on the phone right now?"

"I..." Percy pauses. Glances up to his ceiling fan, still spinning in fast circles. "I just. Had a weird dream." Nico makes a "go on" noise. Percy bites his lip and leans against the wall, drawing his knees up to his bare chest. "Have any of your siblings had to..."

Fight against other campers? Run with a pair of kids people wanted to kill because they thought they were dangerous? Commit suicide to stop those from going after the kids once they were safely away somewhere else?

There's nothing good in those questions.

He closes his eyes. "What was camp like for your siblings? Before?"

"Uh." There's some rustling. "Not good. Most campers didn't trust us because of the whole Underworld children thing. Lucky for them, my dad doesn't really go around spawning kids on a monthly basis."

Percy snorted. His fingers wove themselves into his sheets so tight they started to go numb.

"But we didn't have a lot of friends. People avoided us."

Blood on dark grass flickers through Percy's mind. "Or killed you," he blurts out.

His mind shuts down at the words. He can't process what he's said, barely hearing the whrrr of his ceiling fan or the sound of his own breath. His skin floats away from him. Then pulls back solid when Nico says, "How did you know that?"

He swallows thickly. "Like I said. Weird dream."

"About my siblings being killed at camp?"

Nico viciously protecting Joel comes to mind and sticks in place. "No," he says after a beat. "Technically I think she committed murder-suicide."

"Which one?"

Percy hates that question. Sourness floods his tongue and he answers with a gritted, "I didn't get a name. She was fighting off other campers, trying to protect a couple other kids from getting hurt."

A sarcastic little laugh echoes through the receiver. "Yeah, that's happen more than once."

The sheets unwind from his numb fingertips. "Fuck."

"It's been over five thousand years, Percy," Nico says. "Things tend to repeat themselves a few times." Percy doesn't know what to say to that. "Why were you dreaming about one of my sisters anyway?"

"I don't know," he says. It's the truth. He has no idea. But he has theories. And he has fears. "She was just there."

Nico is quiet. The sound of his breathing is steady, and Percy hones in on it. He matches each inhale and exhale with his own breaths.

When Nico does speak again, he almost sounds far away. "That's odd." There's a creak and a thump, like feet hitting the tile. "Is that why you were talking to Clovis?"

No. "Yeah."

"Interesting." His voice is faint, before suddenly loud and fast. "Hey, I have to go."

Percy's stomach churns violently. "But-"

His words speed fast together as he says, "I have to go do something, I'll call you back later."

There's no dial tone, just a loud clattering that makes Percy's heart drop directly into his stomach. Clovis's sleepy voice eclipses to max volume in his head. And prophecies... I guess you wouldn't know until it happens.

A dozen thoughts blur through his mind as he hikes up the window to the fire escape outside his bedroom. He should tell his mom he's leaving, he should call Grover, he should call Annabeth, he should make someone check on Nico.

He gropes around the top of his dresser for a spare dog whistle then blows through it hard and sharp as he clambours out through the window, shirtless, shoeless, and panicking.

Mrs. O'Leary barks up at him from the dark alleyway. Shadows still cling to her dark fur. He doesn't even bother racing down the stairs. Just throws himself over the railing. Nico's name echoes in his head like a broken record as he falls. Soft fur grips tight in his hands. He doesn't feel the pain of landing, shadows swallowing them both before he can even recognize that he did.

It's strange to appear just a few feet away from a gaggle of kids threatening your cousin and the kid he's chosen to protect. Behind the group yelling words Percy can't hear under the roar of blood in his ears, there's a couple other kids - twins of Erebus - sneaking towards them.

They get close.

But they get caught.

Nico snaps forward and Percy's hitting the ground before he understands what's happening. It goes by so fast, he can barely remember his own actions. Everyone's still breathing. But banged up heavily, or unconscious. Joel is crying wheezy little tears while his aunts try to comfort him, and Nico...

Nico is gripped so tight in Percy's arms that Percy worries he might've broken something. He relaxes slow. Nico detaches. Mrs. O'Leary's hot breath huffs against the top of his head. Nico gives her a pat on the nose, not looking at Percy as he turns to Joel and checks in on him.

Percy's watching the slump of bruised campers before him. His blood feels too hot. Sweat drips down his back but his skin is too dry. He takes a step forward. A hand shoves against his chest and he gazes down at void eyes.

The world slams back into place.

He breathes.

"You are ocean water," Nico says very quietly. "Not blood and human viscera."

His mouth is dry. There's something inside him that wants. "Water is water."

"Not like that," Nico says. Percy swallows and steps back. Nico lowers his hand. Then turns to face Joel and the twins. His voice brightens up, feigned cheeriness, as he marches towards them. "Joel, do you want to go live with my brother's cult?"

Distantly Percy feels like he remembers Nico saying something about that once, but he can't remember what, so his mind draws question marks he doesn't ask as he twists on his heel. Nico crouches, speaking in a steady soft tone. The girls are holding each other's hands. They spare looks for the people who were scared of their nephew, and spare looks towards Percy. It's the same look.

They look away when Nico says something to them, vanishing hand-in-hand into shadows. Nico whistles and Mrs. O'Leary approaches with heavy steps. Joel hugs her leg. His ragged breaths are wheezed tired and weary into her fur. Nico keeps a steady hand on his back.

There is no murder-suicide this time. Instead the shadows swell and deposits the twins, with Mr. D and Chiron beside them. Nico cuts them off when Chiron tries to question him. He takes long way out with the girls on either side of him towards the Apollo cabin.

He doesn't follow the girls back into the woods with healers on their tail. Instead he opens the door to the Hades cabin and sits on a wooden chair. There's a buzz of white noise from a nearby noise machine. Otherwise everything is quiet. Nico's phone sits where it had been dropped to the ground minutes before.

His blood still feels too hot.

It feels like hours later when Nico walks in. However, the clock on the wall says it's only been twenty minutes. Joel is tucked up into his side. He goes down without a fight into Nico's bed. Lets himself be tucked in and drift off. Then Nico pulls another chair around and settles down in front of Percy, straddling the chair backwards. His arms cross over the top. His chin rests on folded wrists.

They watch each other. Then Nico moves to rest his cheek on his wrists instead. "You've been having those dreams for a while?"

Percy makes an affirmative noise.

"They haven't really been about my siblings, have they?"

He doesn't answer that. Instead, he says, "If people kept doing things like this, why didn't you guys make your own place?"

"We did," Nico says. "A few times actually. But no one liked that they didn't know what we were doing. So they made us come back to be hated and suffer." He snorts. "The old adage - keeps your friends close and enemies closer."

Percy doesn't laugh. "Why did she adopt him?"

Nico lifts his head. "Some things had happened when she found him. She took an interest and gave him her blessing."

"What things?"

Nico looks to the ceiling. "Things that help her fill her fridge with food to eat." His eyes flicker back down to Percy. "Only Chiron and Mr. D know the specifics. But Joel is fine." He glances over his shoulder. "He's a good kid. No one needs to be scared of him." He turns back to Percy. "Now answer my question."

Blood still too hot, Percy stares at a spot just above Nico's head. Then grits his teeth. "I don't like watching you die."

"I'm not scared of dying," Nico says. "None of us are. It's why it's always been so easy to take care of them. Take the dislike, take the insults, take the threats."

Percy stares at him. Then repeats, "I don't like watching you die."

Nico stares back. "You're not going to."

It's hard to believe that. So he leans forward, reaching out to grab the top of Nico's chair and pull it down until he can feel Nico's cool breath against his skin. "If I keep having those dreams, I'm gonna take a page from your dad's book and kidnap you."

Nico's lips twitch, but his voice stays even. "Then I guess you should keep in mind to make room in your dungeon because I'll be bringing a few people along." He lifts a hand and strokes a thumb down the side of Percy's face. "I heard your siblings were pretty protective too." His fingers slip away. Percy's skin yearns. "Something about how the ocean drowns what it loves and drowns what it hates."

That's not protection, Percy thinks. It's possession.

But he doesn't say that outloud.

Not yet.

He slowly lets the chair fall backwards until it lands stable on all four legs. He wants to deny Nico's statement about drowning. But he has - at least what he hates. Ahkyls, the mountain lion that tried to attack Grover, those kids. Only one success. But the want, the need...

"I should head home," he says slowly. It takes him a minute to process his words and stand up, heading for the door.

Nico makes a low noise and stands too. "Sweet dreams," he says once Percy has walked out into the night, still barefoot and shirtless.

Percy climbs onto Mrs. O'Leary's back. "I hope so."

[cerridwen007]

Icy Hot.

Images above from pinterest are for aesthetic purposes only*

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 1.4k MINORS DNI!(18+)

Summary: Javi finds a new, interesting way for you to cool down during a hot Colombian day.

Notes/warnings: SMUT, temperature play, toys, inappropriate use of ice cubes, Javi being a cheeky menace, body worship, male masturbation, javi picks reader up but he is a strong boy and can pick up any one, probably bad spanish, swearing, no y/n.

A/N: Wrote this months ago but couldn't be bothered editing it again till now so here it is finally. I live in the southern hemisphere so now and especially at the time of writing this, it was stinking hot, which of course prompted the idea. Any interactions with my posts are appreciated, hope yall enjoy. love ya!

*********

It was a scorching hot Sunday afternoon in Bogotá; Columbia, a rare day off for both you and Javi that was usually spent out and about hanging with friends, cleaning the apartment and spending some quality time with each other. But unlike those others treasured Sundays, absolutely nothing was being achieved by either of you today. The both of you were sprawling out in your underwear on the couch. A situation that usually would've prompted some very heated activities, but both of your brains seemed to have been fried and groggy from the sweltering temp in the apartment.

The windows were shut to keep out as much of the heat as possible and the nasty flies that came with the summer heat. The dusty old fan beside the coffee table did next to nothing in cooling you down, instead pushing the hot warm back onto you. You looked over at Javi, leaning back into the couch, legs and arms spread out as he leans on the back of the couch. God, he looked so delicious even in these circumstances.

A drop of sweat beaded at his temple and fell down his jaw and neck. Licking your lips, you could almost taste the salty taste lingering on your tongue. You sighed, knowing getting handsy right now, as tempting as it was with such a handsome boyfriend who looked extremely hot right now would only make you even more overheated. You lifted one of your hands to help fan yourself, a feeble attempt to take your mind off the heat, uncomfortably sticking like a second skin to all of your body.

Javi, on the other hand, was thinking about how he could cool you down. He hated seeing you so tired and exhausted from the heat, a nice Sunday spoiled by the overbearing heat of Columbia. Suddenly, it hits him, a wide smirk spreading on his face before he can stop it. Luckily, you're too buzzed out to notice. He quickly sneaks off to your bedroom to retrieve something.

You, a curious creature usually would have immediately wondered what he was up to but right now you couldn't care less with the humidity causing your skin to glisten with salty stick drops of sweat, and your brain reduced to mush, you were unable to give much of a second thought to his actions.

You close your eyes as the heat brings you to a light sleep but manage to pick on some muffled noises of Javi mucking around in the kitchen. After a few minutes, but what seems like hours in your disoriented state, Javi tip toes behind the couch where you are resting and reaches out to trace an ice cube along your collarbone.

Your body jolts, unexpecting of the drastically different temperature melting down below your neck. Your eyes flick open, eyebrows automatically raising to question what the hell on earth Javier was doing.

"Relax Hermosa, just thought I'd try something different to try and cool us down."

He reaches his palm down, cupping your face, doing his very best puppy eyes to try to convince you to let him try out his idea. Biting your lip, you tried to hide your grin. Javi smiles deviously, knowing you better than yourself, that you are already sold on the idea. He walks around to the front of the couch, popping one of the ice cubes in his mouth and grins.

He straddles your lap, you almost whine feeling his already hard cock, pressed up against your aching core. He presses his lips to the side of your neck, instantly creating goosebumps throughout your body. Your body arches into his as his icy cold lips trace down the curves of your sticky body. He reaches behind you and carefully undoes your bra behind your back, throwing it to the ground, revealing your swollen nipples.

A deep groan arises from the back of his throat as he watches a droplet of water melt between the valley of your breasts, his pupils double in size, transfixed by the sight before him. The ice cube now fully melted leaves his tongue still cold as he attaches his lips to the painfully hard peaks on your chests, making you moan loudly. His eyes go between closing in bliss to looking up at your beautiful features. His hips subconsciously grind into yours, further prolonging the aching of your clit.

Your fingers dig into Javier's fluffy hair as the heat begins to overcome your body again. You whine feeling a need for more and because of the discomforting heat.

Seeing how your body was both warmed up and cooled down he withdrew his lips from your nipples and placed a few kisses down your stomach before getting up off the couch to go and retrieve something else from the kitchen.

"Close your eyes, mi diosa." He softly tells you.

You swallow harshly and close your eyes, gut swirling with anticipation of what Javi had in store next. Before your brain can wander, you feel a very cold large object touch ever so slightly to your clit through your panties, the action making every single inch of your skin immediately flare up in goosebumps again, eliciting a soft whine to fall from your lips. Which earns a chuckle from Javier. Your eyes open slowly to find a smirking Javier sitting on the other end of the couch with one of your old toys.

"Javi...?" You ask breathlessly.

"I know, I know I've said I like to be the only thing to satisfy your needs, but I obviously couldn't put my dick in the freezer." He jokes.

You smile wide, but before you can respond he quickly wips your underwear off as he places the tip back onto your clit and slowly drags it downwards through your drenched folds.

"Ffffuck..." you moan.

"I'll get there, don't worry, sweetheart." He winks.

You exhale a breathy laugh that turns into a moan as Javi continues dragging the tip back and forth through your lips, catching on your clit with every motion. You weren't sure what had come over, Javi. He usually wasn't so playful in the bedroom, but you didn't mind it one bit.

Keep his eyes transfixed on your body, studying every inch like a painting. He palms himself through his black boxers. He nudges the tip of the dildo at your entrance, holding it there. You squirm trying to push it inside you, desperate to be filled by something. 

"Please.....Javi..." you whine weakly.

"Dime que lo quieres, dime cuánto lo necesitas." Javier whispers, as he slowly pulls himself out of his draws and strokes his length. His eyes roll back as his head falls between his shoulders from the feeling after depriving himself for so long. But he soon forces himself to look at the pure desperation on your face.

"Please.....fuck please Javi...need it so bad...please just give me something... anything." You plead , begging as you try and grind upwards, seeking some stimulation.

Javier swallows deeply, feeling his cock ache from your words. 

"Fuck mi vida, look so fucken pretty when you beg for be me."

You gasp as he quickly slips half of the dildo deep into your heat. The cool silicone easing the fiery walls. Javi spits on his tip and begins furiously stroking himself, trying his best to match the same pace as he fucks you with the pink toy. Within minutes, both of you are reduced to a whimpering mess.

"Mmm this pussy is all mine, ain't she?"

Before you can respond, he reaches out to stick his thumb in your mouth. You quickly take it, sucking harshly, leaving it covered in spit. He groans, watching you, pinching the base of his dick to keep from coming just yet.

He resumes his original plan and brings his wet thumb to your throbbing clit. Circling it gently just how you like it.

“Need you come for me sweetheart... come for me." He moans.

Your hands fly out and grip Javier's veiny forearm to anchor yourself to him as your high overcomes you.

"Oh...ffffuck...Javi..."

He fucks you harshly with deep fast strokes through your high, mimicking his own strokes as he begins to reach his climax.

He comes onto your thighs and mound before collapsing his upper half on your stomach.

You smile at him, eyes peeking open at his messy, post sex hair. You reach out and swipe it out of his face, scratching his scalp.

"Mmmh, feeling cooler yet, amor?" he asks.

"I mean, I did, but now I think it's time for a cold shower so we can really cool down."

You wink.

He grins widely, chuckling as he picks you up, throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the shoulder. It was going to be a long hot night, in more ways than one, but at least Javi reckons he saw some ice blocks in the freezer earlier…

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

Translations: ‘mi diosa’ - my goddess

‘Mi vida’ - my life.

‘Dime que lo quieres, dime cuánto lo necesitas’ - ‘Tell me how much you want it, tell me how much you need it.’

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

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 17 (The Preparations)

4.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Wedding planning for the upcoming Fett-Pyke nuptials ramps up and you lend a helping hand.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, fingering, unprotected PiV, roughish sex, semi public sex, mirror sex (again!), light roleplay, nicknames per usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), reader has to try a bunch of dresses on but there is no implied body shape or size.

A/N: This chapter precedes The Wedding, a drabble I wrote all the way back in October. You don't have to read it (there is no real plot progression), but Ch. 18 will pick up when the wedding has already taken place 😊 Thank you so much to everyone who reads this series - ilysm! 🥹 Series Masterlist

You would think that with the amount of stress and anxiety you’ve been feeling lately, you were the one getting married.

Din has been out late on security detail every night since the fight with Rotta.  That creeping feeling you had at the BBQ, that something like escalation was just around the corner seems to have materialized as if you manifested it, crashing into your lives without nuance after fight night.  Whatever or whomever is responsible for the incendiary string of misdemeanors seems to have been emboldened by the Hutts’ recent defeat, their humiliation lighting the fuse to a powder keg that you’re sure is just waiting to explode.

You worry for Din - not because you don’t think he can handle himself, but truthfully, you don’t even know what’s out there to worry over.  Din insists on keeping the darker sides of the Family’s business and what he does away from you – which you understood and agreed to, but your imagination can’t help but run wild.  You spend too much of your time away from him worried for his well being and trying to quiet that overthinking part of your brain that loves to indulge in paranoid, imagined scenarios.

In truth, most nights Din comes home perfectly fine – a little stressed maybe, but fine; he’ll unwind a little as you walk Al together, sometimes venting to you about what’s been going on, but other times just reveling in your soft touch and gentle calm.

You don’t tell Din that the calmness you exude for him only surfaces when you’ve laid eyes on him again; that otherwise, you’re a bundle of tightly wound nerves while the two of you are apart.

One day, you don’t know why, but a looming sense of dread hangs over you all day – there wasn’t any particular reason other than possibly your worry and anxiety having been building up for weeks and you had subconsciously reached a breaking point.  Certainly, Din hadn’t said anything or indicated that today was different than any other.  But still, you feel your skin prickling all day and you check your phone more than usual – for what?  You don’t even know.

For the first time that night, you add pacing to your efforts to work out your nervous energy; Al watching, confused, as you do laps of Din’s apartment while waiting for him to come home.

Your head snaps up when you hear uneven footsteps on the stairs and watch as Din stumbles in through the door, holding his hand to his face, blood dripping down to his wrist.  Blinking back tears, you lead Din to the couch and wordlessly climb into his lap with the first aid kit to start cleaning the blood and inspecting his wound.

Din is pissed at himself.  He was careless. 

Tired from the endless nights of patrol and seemingly never-ending malfeasance that requires the Mandos’ constant intervention, he had let his guard down for a minute while Jimmy had gone ahead to check on some Fett Family protected businesses.  It had been long enough for some young punk who must have been hiding in the shadows to get the jump on him.  Ultimately, it didn’t take more then a few minutes for Din to subdue the wannabe thug, pinning him to the ground with his arm across the back of his neck to choke out that this kid worked for the Crymorah Syndicate, but not before Din only half ducked the swing of the baseball bat - hence the blood now pouring out of his head.

The scared and pained expression on your face as you focus on disinfecting and bandaging his bloody cut is making Din feel even worse than the massive headache that continues to pound between his temples.

It’s the first night he takes you up on the offer you brought up at the BBQ: to use you to fuck out his frustrations. 

He takes you right there on the couch.  Facing you away from him, Din holds you wide over his lap, fingering you roughly and playing with your clit until you come.  Once he has you lolling your head back onto his shoulder, he slams you down on his cock and fucks up into you at a demanding pace, taking out his grievances on your lithe, supple body, chasing only his own high.  You’re completely fucked out of your mind, all thoughts leaving your brain except for how good it feels to give yourself over to Din entirely, letting him handle your body and use it for his selfish needs.  Pliant and limp like his own personal fuck doll, Din thrusts into you with a force that causes your breasts to bounce so violently you start to sweat, moaning and whimpering into Din’s neck as you’re jostled without reprieve over his lap; Din grunts low and dangerous in your ear, “So good at taking my cock, baby.  Take it, take it.  Take what daddy gives you.”

He uses you until you’ve come shaking on his length twice more, legs spread so wide they’ve started to ache, body shiny with sweat and voice hoarse from screaming so much.  Only then does Din finish, spilling rope after rope of cum into you, stretching your legs taut with his paw like hands so he can shoot his spend into you as deep as possible and all you can do is let him and take, take, take.

After, he gently closes your legs and pulls out, laying you down tenderly on the couch before fetching a warm cloth to clean you up.  You remain in a completely brain numbed, cock drunk state – every anxious thought and worry having been fucked out of your head.  Your overthinking brain shut off the minute Din entered you and the noise of your stressful thoughts dominated into submission by his punishing cock; you feel nothing but pleasure, relief, peace.  Later while cuddling in bed, Din checks in with you that he hadn’t taken things too far with your offer to let him use you.

Sleepily, you nod and let him know that you’re more than okay.  And it’s true.  The original intent was to give Din an outlet for his frustrations, but now you think that him using you could be just as much for you as it is for him. 

In comparison to the burden of your mental load, the actual wedding planning for Cass’s wedding has been a breeze.

Admittedly, you don’t have to do very much.  Periodically, Lisa will invite you to come taste something or ask you to pick up some samples for her.  Mainly you do research into different vendors that still need to be secured and ask Rory if there’s anyone on the blacklist before sharing your suggestions with Lisa.  If a Rory approved vendor from your list is selected, you usually attend those meetings, feeling somewhat responsible for their performance – what Lisa and Cass don’t know is that the vendors approved for your lists are usually ones that having working relationships with Rory’s boutique – you being to suspect that their relationship with Rory is enough to secure lower than standard prices and higher than usual levels of service.  You buy Rory brunch for three weeks in a row to thank her.

The biggest request to date from Cass is that you attend the bridal dress consultation and bridesmaid dress shopping with them at Rory’s boutique. 

The appointment itself had been a favour you weren’t willing to ask of your friend; knowing the calibre of Rory’s work and the level to which her services were in demand, you didn’t think it right for you to ask her to make any exceptions for you.  But being the elite friend that Rory is, she cleared it with her boss to open up the boutique privately after hours on an upcoming Saturday and extended the invitation after she had already made all the arrangements.

You couldn’t believe it.  It was so incredibly kind.  You cry a little.  Afterall, Rory doesn’t even know Lisa or Cass - she did all this on the strength of her love for you alone.  Rory awkwardly pats your head and just says she can tell that you’ve been under a lot of stress lately and this is such a small thing she could do to help you out.  You cry more.  You hadn’t realized that you had let your anxiety and concern for Din and whatever was happening with the Mandos affect your mood that much; you obviously don’t share with your friends Fett Family business, but that they knew something was up but never pushed you to tell them makes you love them all the more.  Sometimes you’re not sure you deserve your friends.

Today, you decide you definitely don’t deserve Rory.  Helping Cass find her dream dress has been relatively easy - Cass looks gorgeous in everything she tries on, and with Rory’s expertise, she easily pulls five perfect options and gives the proper advice and compliments to help the bride narrow it down to the one.  One of Cass’s aunties proclaims that she’s never been to such an efficient and smooth wedding dress consultation and she has five married daughters – you smile proud: that’s the power of Rory.

But the selection of the bridesmaid dresses is an entirely different matter.  For one thing, only two of the bridesmaids are actually in attendance (one of them is Lisa).  For another, there are seven bridesmaids in total, some of whom even Cass doesn’t know very well and half of them from the Pyke’s side.  Everyone has an opinion, several have sent notes, and no one is available to FaceTime.

You think Rory must pull over fifty dresses.  You stop counting after twenty-five – somehow becoming the doll that all the dresses are modelled on, standing up on the pedestal in front a couch full of women so they can judge the chiffon trimmed monstrosity you have on.  It’s not as easy as just throwing your hands up and letting dress after dress fall over your shoulders and hang smoothly off your body while you sway the fabric prettily.  Some of the sample dresses are too big and requiring copious pinning.  Others, too small, pinch your skin and your sides where the zipper bites into your squishy bits.  Others are too long, causing you to almost fall trying to step up onto the pedestal, and some have so many buttons that your limbs go numb while waiting to be buttoned in or out.  Many of them are very, very ugly.  It’s seemingly impossible to please seven bridesmaid and one bride who all have very different tastes and very different bodies, especially if offending any one of them might incite a gang war.

The women are getting increasingly frustrated and snippy with each other, all while you stand in front of them in a little satin strapless number that is definitely too short (for a wedding) and too small (for you, the back barely zipped and your boobs pushed together comically, close to scandalously spilling out the top).  You’re hot and tired, and the arguing that is only getting louder is starting to creep its way into your shoulders where you’ve been holding all your stress lately.  You’re about to ask for a break and voluntell Lisa to be the next dress model when Rory comes striding back into the room and does it for you.  She’s grinning triumphantly and behind her walks your knight in shining armour: Din carrying a box of baked goods intended to help refuel the women and invigorate the appointment that’s slowly going off the rails.

You don’t wait around to find out if it works.  Ramming yourself into Din’s chest, you let him wrap his arms around you and melt into the comforting warmth of his presence while you breath a sigh of relief - as big of a breath as your too tight dress will allow, anyways.  Unbeknownst to you, Rory makes eye contact with Din over your head and tilts hers discreetly towards a door in the hallway that has a little velvet rope drawn across.  Looking down at your tired face, Din understands her meaning immediately and mouths ‘thank you’ before he starts to walk you in the direction indicated.

“Din?” you look up at him sleepily as you come a stop outside the door which he’s opening gingerly. 

“Don’t worry, pretty bird, no one will bother us here,” he smiles indulgently and directs you up the staircase hidden behind the door, keeping his big firm hand splayed on your back to hold you steady as you ascend.

The stairs lead to the third floor of the boutique which is home to a private consultation room.  It’s similar to the set-up of the room you were in downstairs, but a bit smaller, a little more intimate.  The racks of dresses lining the walls are fewer and the furniture up here is luxurious and fine. 

You heave a sigh of exhaustion and start to move towards the chaise lounge near the window when you hear Din chuckle behind you, “Baby.  What are you wearing?”

“Hey!” you spin around, stress and exhaustion catching up with you, annoyed, “You try on a million dresses and none of them fit, and Elena wants strapless, but Lisa doesn’t want to have to buy a new bra.  Xi’an hates all fabrics but silk and Cass wants it to match the wedding colours, but Morgan’s grandma says green is bad luck.  Sasha thinks that it’s not fashionable to match and that everyone should wear a different style, and Elsbeth wants everyone in a mermaid style but Winnie thinks a train will upstage the bride!!  And I’m not even in the wedding - I’m just trying to help!! It’s so much to take in, it’s not possible to look good too!!”

Din chuckles again - you look so feisty and irritated, breathing heavily in your too short, too tight dress, but he’s finding it terribly endearing.  He doesn’t tell you this because he thinks he might find himself with a shoe thrown at his head, so instead he silently steers you over to the mirror; wrapping one arm around your waist, he hooks his chin over your shoulder and walks two fingers across the tops of your overspilling cleavage, “I didn’t say it didn’t look good, sweetheart,” and starts kissing your neck.

Sighing now from the tingle of Din’s lips on your hot skin, you whisper, resigned, “This thing is like, a bajillion sizes too small.  I can’t believe I even had to try it on.  It’s too short.  Too tight.  Too low cut.”

“Too slutty,” Din murmurs behind your ear as he starts to push the hem of the dress up your thighs, the skirt so short he only raises the fabric a few inches before your white lace panties come into view in the mirror.  You moan a little when you see the hungry look in his eyes reflected back at you.

“Seems to me if it’s too tight, we should just,” Din’s starts to drag the back zipper down very slowly, “… loosen it a little.” You exhale as the fabric around your chest falls away from your body a little, giving your lungs room to expand.  As you take in a few deep breaths, your tits fall out over the top of the dress, exposing your naked curves to Din’s darkened stare, “Well, well, well… what do we have here?”  He reaches up to palm your breasts, groping them gently before rolling your nipples between his thumbs and middle fingers, toying and pinching them just the way you like.  You arch against Din and when you feel his hardening cock press against your ass, you whine, “Oh Daddy…”

“That’s right, pretty bird,” coos Din, he reaches up to wrap one hand around the base of your neck while the other drops from your tits to slip down the front of your panties and gently starts to massage your clit, “Daddy’s going to take care of you.” 

You relax into Din’s hold, letting him guide your head back to rest against his shoulder, softly moaning as he strokes through your folds, “You’re stressed baby, you take on too much.”

“No, it’s okay…” you murmur, eyes still closed.

Din drags his fingers over and around your slit, pressing gently against but never breeching the entrance, pulling a needy whine from your lips which he shushes, “Yeah, you do, pretty bird.  You’re helping so much with this wedding.  You’re stressed worrying about me all the time.  And you have your own work and Al to take care of.  You deserve to be taken care of too, baby.”

And as if he knows you’re about to protest that he does take care of you, Din chooses this exact moment to plunge two fingers into your needy cunt; you would double over from the electric shock of pleasure to your system if Din wasn’t holding you upright.  “Gonna take real good care of you, sweet girl,” he whispers as he starts driving his fingers into you, drinking in your breathy chants of daddy, daddy, daddy, perfectly timed to his thrusts.

“Open your eyes, bunny.  Look how good you look when you’re being taken care of,” commands Din, softly.  You open your eyes and take in your reflection in the mirror: you have a lazy grin spread across your face, Din’s arm crosses over your chest to hold you by the neck but you can still see your exposed breasts, your nipples perky and sensitive.  Your eyes linger over your white lace panties stuffed full with Din’s hand, and your mouth relaxes into a soft ‘O’ shape whenever the movement under the fabric results in a wet squelch from your dripping pussy.  You look depraved and serene all at once.

“Feel so good, daddy,” you purr, as your arms reach up and around the back of Din’s neck, arching your body further into his touch.  Din adds a third finger slowly, hungrily consuming your sharp intake of air and the way your legs quake at the added stretch; when he starts to write your name in cursive over your clit, your knees actually buckle.

“I got you, bun.  Don’t worry, your big bad wolf is here.  Gonna take care of everything for you, little bunny.  All you have to is come,” Din hums, shifting you in the firm embrace of his arm so you rest comfortably against his body, propped up against his thigh while he continues his efforts on your cunt.

Your eyes glassy, you smile dreamily as you continue to watch the way Din works your body over with his nimble fingers; when you start to climb towards your peak, your body instinctively tries to run but Din grips you tight, “You’re close, pretty girl.  Can feel you on my fingers.  Let go and come for me.  I got you, baby.”  His reassuring tone and confident swipes over your swollen nub push you right over the edge and you come with a melodic wail that’s more of a cry of relief than anything.

Fucking you gently through your high, Din murmurs praise in your ear as he pulls you back to Earth, “Did so good for me.  So perfect, sweetheart.  Always come so pretty for me.  Feel good, pretty bird?”

You nod lazily under Din’s jaw, arms still hanging on to his neck as if for dear life.  He chuckles, and through the fog of your post orgasm stupor, you feel Din position your body closer to the mirror, placing your hands against the glass for stability before helping you out of your shoes and underwear.  You feel his warm breath on your neck before he nips playfully at your earlobe and you smile affectionately, mainly to yourself in the glass.  But when you hear him rumble low in your ear, “Gonna fuck you now, bunny,” you brain wakes up and your eyes snap open, “Din!  We can’t!  This isn’t my dress!  And this is Rory’s place of work!”

Din places his hands over yours and gently kisses down your neck, tutting reassuringly, “Uh uh uh, you’re still worrying too much.  Didn’t I say Daddy was going to take care of everything? I’m going buy this dress, and Rory is the one who sent us up here.  You have to let go and let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

He’s right, you do worry a lot; as Din eases his cock between your snug walls you think you should let him take care of all your concerns, no matter how silly. Din sets a slow, languid pace and you grin teasingly at him, already cock drunk, “And what am I going to do with a dress that doesn’t fit, daddy?”

Din grins back at you, “We could use it for role play?”

“Like slutty bridesmaid?”

He starts to thrust a little faster, a little harder, “Or maybe you’re a slutty cocktail waitress looking for a big tip.”  He smirks at the you in the reflection, slutty little you with your tits out, bouncing hard while being railed by your big bad wolf.

“Ohhhhhh yessss, fuck that feels good.  You got a big tip for me, daddy?” you slur, eyes still twinkling despite having gone unfocused.

Din rakes his big hands up your arms and down your sides, grabbing on to your breasts and toying with your nipples before grasping you hard and slamming his cock into you without warning.

Your yelp of surprise quickly turns into bawdy moans as Din continues to rut into you with a force that shakes the glass you’re still bracing your hands on, “Fuck, Din.”

“Maybe one of the dancers didn’t come in tonight and this poor slutty cocktail waitress has to fill in and give me a lap dance,” smirks Din, he’s leveraging one of your favourite roleplay fantasies and he knows it.

You grind back into his crotch, circling your hips as he fucks into you, cooing, “I’m sorry I’m not your regular girl, daddy.  Please don’t be upset.”

Still smirking, Din lays a loud smack to your ass, “Can’t be too upset when I’ve this perfect ass bouncing on me.”  You squeal from the sting and the ease with which you and Din have slipped into this dirty dialogue.

Continuing to pound into you, Din crowds you towards the mirror, open mouth kissing at your neck and focusing on that spot behind your ear that drives you crazy, “Gonna let me take you to the VIP room, baby?  Gonna let me do VIP things to you?”

You whine, “That’s against the rules, daddy!”

Din pushes you into the mirror so your tits are pressed against the glass and growls as he continues to fuck up into your core, “What did I tell you?  No more worrying in that pretty head of yours.  You gonna let me break some rules and wreck this pussy, little slut?”

You know you’re just playing a silly fantasy game, but this is the second time Din’s told you to stop worrying and to let him take care of things – you know there’s some truth behind his words so you give in; you know he’ll take good care of you, “All yours, daddy.  Do whatever you want to me.”

“Good girl,” Din rewards you by snaking his hand down to your clit and giving your throbbing bud the attention it’s been aching for.  He bites down on your shoulder and drinks in your little cry, “Gonna fuck you until you don’t have a thought in that slutty little brain of yours, ‘kay?  I’m gonna take care of it all for you, just trust your daddy.”

He nuzzles his strong, perfect nose into your cheek to press your face against the mirror and you can see the glass start to fog up from how hard you’re panting; the cool surface doesn’t quite feel so cool anymore as you nod the best you can.

Over and over, Din punches the air out of your lungs, and you just take, the patch of condensation on the mirror growing bigger and bigger; you focus on Din’s face, the way his eyes are blown wide with lust and the curl of his lips as he snarls, “Pretty little whore, want me to take you away from this club?  Away from all your worries? Be the only one to fuck you?  Take care of you?”

“Yes!” you cry, you kiss your reflection as your lips smash against the glass with every hard thrust from Din’s cock; your pussy trapping his hand against the smooth surface of the mirror as he continues to draw perfect circles on your clit.

“Then come for me. Give it to me, baby.  Give me ever worry, every anxious thought.  Give it all to me, bunny,” Din coaxes.  Demands.  And you do, you come hard - your walls clamping down on Din’s length, fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm while continuing to pulse down on Din as he comes nearly right after, absorbing your fall and taking it all from you.  He shoots his spend deep and you take from him too, letting him give you everything he’s got.

After pulling you away from the mirror, you watch absent-mindedly as the Din in the mirror holds you upright against his chest until he’s sure you can stand; he helps you put on your underwear and adjusts the tiny dress to cover you up the best he can before leading you to one of the plush lounges.  Laying you down gently, Din covers you with a blanket he finds before you see him go off and disappear into an alcove in the corner of the room.  He must have found a bathroom or a changing room because he comes back with some tissues and helps you clean some of the joint spill that’s now dripping from you, before you watch with some amusement as he cleans the mirror that the two of you defiled.  Thoughtful, thoughtful man. 

When he’s finished, Din comes back to you as he always does, kneels by your head and strokes your hair, kissing you tenderly, “Pretty bird, I mean it.  You’re taking on a lot.  Too much.”

This time when he says it, you’re too placated and pliant to argue, so you just nod, sleepy.

“This dress fitting was too much to ask of you.  And even though it’s in your nature to help, I know you’re really doing this for me.  I ask too much of you sometimes – I know it hasn’t been easy with me coming home late, scaring you with what I might be facing while I’m out.  I’m sorry,” Din looks at you with such a soulful, downcast look, your heart breaks – you bring your hand to his cheek and warm when you feel him leaning into your touch.

“Don’t be sorry.  I love you, Din,” you whisper, trying to let him know with your eyes that you can handle it.  You can handle anything with him.

Din knows. “Let me take care of you too sometimes, okay, pretty bird?  You don’t have to handle it all on your own.”

“Okay,” you smile.  This one word breaks any remaining tension that Din had been holding on to and he leans in, kissing you with devotion, sealing in your promise.

“I think you’re done for the day, sweetheart.  No more of these dresses for you.  I’ll go downstairs and get your stuff from Rory.  I’ll pay for this one you’re wearing now… and then we’ll leave?”

“Sounds good, daddy,” you yawn, closing your eyes.

As Din approaches the staircase, he looks back at you and asks, curious, “Did you try on any wedding dresses today, pretty girl?”

Half asleep, you shake your head, “Nope, just a million bridesmaid dresses.”

“Hmmm,” Din muses, thoughtful, “Bet you would look really good in a wedding dress, baby.”

“Din, don’t even start…” your voice trails off as sleep carries you away, barely registering the conversation that’s taking place.

Din continues down the stairs, humming and grinning stupidly to himself.

The Wedding takes place after this chapter and before Ch. 18, but it's not necessary for the plot to read - just know that when Ch. 18 starts, Cass and Rikard are already married 🥰

[mariposa-writes]

The Assistant - Part 2

Summary: I hate writing summaries...

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: let me know what you think! I love feedback, thanks!

It was 9:56 when Travis texted you asking for your apartment number. You didn't bother replying and just walked outside to find his car, which was parked in front of the unit you stayed in.

He was standing outside the car, leaning against the hood. "I was going to see if you needed help." He said, opening the door for you.

"I'm fine, but thanks."

"So this is where you live?" He asks eyeing the building suspiciously.

You could tell he wasn't fond of the place and wouldn't be spending an extra time here if he didn't have too. Argentine wasn't the best area to live it, but it was more affordable than Johnson County.

"Do you live with anyone?" Travis asked, realizing he really didn't know much about you.

"Nope."

"Maybe you should." He said under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear.

"Why would I? I like living alone."

"Well, I was just thinking that maybe if you had a roommate you could afford a nicer and safer place."

You were slightly offended that he was judging your apartment so harshly. "It's not a bad place to live. Most of the neighbors are good people, just trying to survive with the little money they have."

"You said most not all." You rolled your eyes, already regretting this little doctors appointment.

"Well the few that aren't so great stay out of the way. They actually aren't that bad, they try to keep the violence away from where the kids play and try not to included innocent people in their beef." You liked where you lived, maybe you could do without the nightly gunshots but for the most part it wasn't bad.

"Alright, whatever you say." He said holding up a hand in mock surrender, while keeping the other on the steering wheel.

The rest of the ride was relatively quiet, besides the music playing softly in the background.

———

The doctor’s appointment went well and in 5 days you were supposed to have your surgery. You just first had to get your knee to bend to a 90 degree angle.

You spent all week working on it, and it was much harder than you thought it would be. You were about to call your best friend when Travis’s called ID popped up in your screen.

“Hello?” You said answering the phone, confused on why he was calling

“Hey, it’s Travis” he replied

“Yea, I know.” You we’re wracking your brain on why he was calling when it finally hit you. “You’re not calling to cancel on me tomorrow right?” You asked starting to worry.

You let your mind get the best of you more often than you’d like to admit.

“What? No. I was actually calling to see if you wanted to stay here so we wouldn’t have to wake up as early tomorrow” he explained, “ I know you’re not really a morning person.”

“Uhh, are you sure?” Over the past year and a half while working for Travis you’d had many late night and early mornings, but you had never once stayed over at his house. Even if you were only gonna get 3 hours of sleep, you would go home for them.

To be honest, you didn’t really want to be alone tonight. You were nervous about the surgery, even though it was a basic routine. You’d never been out under the knife before and this was stressing you out more than you cared to admit.

“Yea, I’m sure. I can pick you up in an hour. Also the doctor said you’d need someone to watch over you so I figured you could stay at my house for a few days. Maria will be here and she can help you.”

“Okay, sounds good. See you in an hour.”

About an hour later Travis was knocking on your door. “It’s open” you yelled from your bedroom. He slowly entered not, wanting to over step.

“You ready to go?” He called.

“Yea, just grabbing my bag.” You walked into the living room with ur bag slung over your shoulder. Travis was standing in the middle of your living room, looking around at what he could see.

Your apartment had always been the perfect size for you, one bedroom with a living room, kitchen, and bathroom but with Travis in the room it suddenly felt to small.

He hadn’t noticed that you had walked in yet, you cleared your throat getting his attention “Ready to go?” You chipped, ready to get Travis out of your space.

He cleared his throat like he’d forgotten how to talk. “Yea, let’s go.” He took your bag from you and and carried it to the car.

It was silent for the first half of the ride, which you were normally fine with. You guys didn’t talk much unless it had to do with work. “Thanks for doing this Travis.”

“Yea, it’s not a big deal.”

You wanted to protest tell him that it was a big deal. He was paying for the extra expenses you couldn’t cover, he got you a good doctor, and most importantly he was there for you through this whole thing so far.

Which was something you never expected from him. You expected him to fire you since you wouldn’t be able to do your job for at least three weeks.

Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. He wasn’t ever some raging asshole boss, but he liked things a certain way.

You guys never talked about your personal lives, you knew more about his due to your job but you never openly discussed or asked about his. You just let him tell you what he wanted to.

He pulled into his garage and helped you out if the car. Your knee was only getting worse, it was giving out more often and becoming more painful to walk on.

Travis kept a hand on the small of your back, the whole way into the house. Catching you when your knee gave out, on the way to his kitchen. "Hungry?" He asked as you sat down on the stool at the island in his kitchen.

"Yes, but I can't eat until after the surgery tomorrow."

"I forgot that you had to fast."

"Yup, worst thing about this dumb surgery." You laughed, earning a small chuckle from Travis.

"Ok, I figured it'd be best if you stayed in my room since there's no stairs to get there. Maria changed the sheets and set it all up for you."

"You don't have to give up your room."

"It's fine, I'll be staying in one of the guest rooms upstairs."

"Travis-"

"Don't argue." He said placing a glass of water in front of you. You glared at him, but didn't argue. "I have some stuff I need to do tonight, but I was thinking we could hang out once I'm done."

"Yea, that's fine."

"Perfect, make yourself at home. I'll find you when I'm done." You nodded as he walked upstairs to his office. You got off the couch, not sure what to do. You felt like you needed to work and be doing something productive.

But instead you sat on his couch and powered on his gaming console. He already had NBA 2k23 in so you decided to play that. You play with the kids in your apartment complex when you watch them for their mom. She normally pays you back in the best baked goods in the world.

You'd been playing for about an hour when Travis walked into the living room. "You play?"

"Yea."

"You any good?" He asked sitting down besides you and grabbing the other remote.

"I'm okay," You lied not wanting to brag. You liked to think you'd gotten pretty good at the game, often times beating the kids you watched. "Why, wanna play?"

"Yup, just don't be sad when I beat you."

"Ok," You said, rolling your eyes.

The rest of the night consisted of you and Travis playing different videos games, you beating him in NBA and MLB. He beat you at Madden, "That's not fair you have an advantage over me!" You protested, "You can think all strategically about the game since you play in real life!"

"Oh, your just mad you lost." He said powering off the console. "You're a sore loser." he mumbled.

"I am not a sore loser. It just doesn't happen often so I'm not used to it."

"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not believing you.

"Yea! See your used to it, I'm not." You smirked, knowing you were getting under his skin.

"I'm used to it? Who has a super bowl ring and who doesn't?" He asked pointing between you two.

"Oh, that was like 2 seasons ago, get over it." You laughed, as he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, well I think this is a sign to call it a night. We gotta be ready to go by 6:15."

"Okay." You nodded, getting off the couch. Travis walked you to his room.

It felt surreal being in his room. You rarely came in here, not ever really needing too. If you did come in it was to grab something from his closet real quick and leave. "Bathrooms, in there. Call if you need anything."

He said getting ready to leave, just as he was about to close the door you called him. "Travis?"

"Yea?"

"Thank you." He smiled, "I mean it."

"I know, you're welcome. Now go to bed." He shut the door to his room and you could hear him walking away from the door. You climbed into his bed, it was comfier than you could ever imagine and it smelled like him despite Maria changing the sheets.

[onigirio]

Hear me out, headcanons about Percy getting another demigod half-brother. Please write some and I hope you have a good day/night/whatever!!

🍙: i think yes! thank you for the request <3

imagine percy’s shock when he goes back to camp to find another kid sleeping in his bed

bc he’s so used to it just being him in the poseidon cabin

“what the hell”

you: 😄

i’m ngl when i say that you guys are the WORST

you bully him for only liking blue food

he bullies you back for your own ocean based hyperfixations

your table at meal times is DANGEROUS

everyone makes sure to get out of the splash zone!

percy definitely accuses you of copying him

just because you’re younger

“no way you have the same blue hoodie as me” “actually it’s more of a turquoise”

ppl called you percy junior for a while

annabeth had to start differentiating between you two

percy’s seaweed brain and you’re kelp head

omg speaking of annabeth

i fully believe you two would gang up on percy

the sibling bond doesn’t matter when the gf is involved

sometimes you feel kinda insecure

because percy has done so many amazing things

and what you do seems inadequate in comparison

but TRUST percy will reassure you

sally too omg

SALLY LOVES YOU

she sends you home with blue cookies everytime you go to their place

your mortal parent and sally are bffs

book club, coffee dates, shopping

literally the standard of bffs

i do think that you and percy are extremely close

you pick up each other’s mannerisms and things tend to feel a little empty when you guys are apart

you hate that percy is almost 18

so you’re trying to spend as much time with him as possible before he goes to new rome

“you’re literally gonna be with annabeth everyday next year”

obvi he chooses to spend a lot of time with you

but sometimes annabeth comes too!

(you’re bffs with her cousin magnus btw)

overall, i think you and percy are menaces

but you’re everyone’s fave menaces

so we still love you <3

[familyvideostevie]

ok but meeting remus lupin during the end of nov and admitting how melancholy this time of year makes u feel and that's it ur invited to all the marauders events over the holidays and spend new years together

my first attempt at remus! this really ran away from me, but i hope you like it! i am still finding my footing with him but this was great fun. | fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, nye kiss, 3.3k

You meet Remus at a local book club, of all places.

A flyer on the bookshop notice board tells you the group meets every other week -- a bit frequently, in your opinion, but you've got the time to read so you figure you'll give it ago. Moving to a new place means you haven't got many, or any, really, friends, and you could do with getting out of the house more. The days are getting shorter and you find yourself a bit more lonely with each passing day.

The group, when you go for the first time, consists of eight elderly women (though, they are sure to inform you, sometimes numbers swell to as many as 15), you, and Remus. They ask for your name and your age, which they all titter at.

"I, uh," you say, crossing your legs and shifting in your folding chair. "I'm really happy to be here," you say. "Thank you for letting me join." That seems to soften them, and they all are a bit more smiley as they introduce themselves.

It is clear right away that they adore Remus. It's not surprising -- he's handsome in a tired way, a ragged way. His face is a mash-up of sharp edges and tight scars that slash across his nose, but his eyes are soft and warm. You want to inspect every inch of him, so naturally you look away. 

It takes three meetings for you to say much. After four, you see Remus at the grocery store twice in one week. You wonder if he lives around here. By the fifth meeting, you're fairly sure you've got your footing. You chime in more often than not, and they're going to let you pick a book next month. It's the last meeting before you all break for the holidays and you are quite sad to not have these to look forward to for the next few weeks. But you push it down and instead focus on your impassioned defense of the unlikable narrator in this week's novel.

"It's the edge that makes the story so compelling," you say. "We get to judge her because we recognize her, but we don't know why until too late. It's because she's normal, and we're meant to see ourselves in her." You've gone on for too long, and after you finish, you don't know where to look. Remus is smiling at you, as he always does.

"Brilliant," says Florence, the bookstore owner and facilitator "What a way to end! I can't wait to see what you come up with in the new year, dear." She hands out the plates of cookies that she made for everyone and the ladies begin to go their separate ways. You're juggling your book, bag, and the plate while you try to shove an arm through your coat. A hand appears in your vision to grab the items in your grip.

"You alright?" It's Remus. He smells like chocolate and something earthier. You've spoken a few times, but not much apart from a hello here and there. He complimented your sweater last meeting and the words burned in your brain for days. You nod, quickly sliding into your coat before taking your things back. His fingers are warm where they brush yours.

"Thanks," you say. The bookshop is almost empty.

"I agree with you, by the way," he says. You've noticed that when Remus talks to you, even if he's responding to something you've said in the group, he looks at you the whole time. His attention does not waver. It's both warming and unnerving.  "What you were saying about the narrator. I hadn't been able to put it into words like that, but I think you were spot on."

You start for the door and he follows. "I just think it's easy to fall into the trap of putting every character on one side of morality or the other," you say.

"Exactly!" He nods emphatically. "With a writer of this caliber the text encourages you to read about her with nuance and to consider that she's not just one thing." He holds the door for you and you both spill out into the chilly night air. The town has wrapped every lamppost and tree in lights that cast everything in a warm glow.

"Listen," Remus says. He looks especially lovely out here. You hug your plate of cookies close to your chest before you reach out to push away the lock of hair that's fallen across his forehead. "I know this is probably not going to come out well, so feel free to tell me to shove it."

You blink at him. What?

"I've seen you at the supermarket around the corner a few times," he continues. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he's being shy. "And I figure you live around here?" You nod. You've no reason to believe he's anything but a nice guy, but you know nothing about him. Even if you have also noticed him at the same store.

"Well," he keeps going. His smile is tight, the creases at the corner of his eyes deep in a way that screams nerves. "I was wondering, if you don't have plans that is, if you wanted to come to the pub with me? I'm meeting a few of my mates and I--." He runs a hand through his hair, fixing the piece you can't stop looking at. "Well, we don't get to talk much during club and I'd uh, like to get to know you?"

"Are you asking me to be friends?" you blurt out. Probably not the best thing to lead with, but he's really so handsome and he seems nice and you haven't got much to look forward to in your empty apartment and this is just a little bit overwhelming. His shoulders creep back down away from his ears and he grins.

"Yeah," he says. "I am."

"Okay," you say. "Lead the way." Remus doesn't strike you as someone who wears his emotions plainly, but his grin softens into something lighter and you think that you want to figure out how to read him.

You fall into step beside him. "It's not far," he says. "I do want to apologize in advance for my friends, though," he says.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, they're great. Don't get me wrong. I love them to pieces." He sighs. "But they're also a bloody pain."

You laugh loudly and suddenly. It feels nice. "Well, that's a ringing endorsement. It's alright though, I could use some friends."

Remus looks over at you and tugs on your elbow just once to tell you to turn with him. "You just moved here, yeah?"

"Well, a few months ago now, but I haven't had much luck with people." Between working and trying to keep your head above water, you haven't figure out how to add socializing into that yet. "And I don't really like...all this." You wave your hands in the air, gesturing at the lights and ribbons adorning the street.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," you say. "It all makes me feel a bit sad." You start to feel embarrassed. "Oh Remus, I'm sorry. We've barely spoken and I'm being all melancholy." He knocks his shoulder with yours and you look over at him to see he's still got a small smile on his face.

"Darling," he says. "I am as melancholy as they come. You're speaking my language."

---

The pub is crowded and noisy and you like it immediately. Remus takes your hand and leads you through the throng to a back corner where two guys are taking up an entire round booth with what seems to be an arm wrestling match.

"Surrender, Potter," one of them says. He's got a knot of dark hair tied into a bun and tiny hoops in each ear and one nostril.

"Fuck off," growls the other. You can tell right away that he's tall, maybe as tall as Remus. He's got messy hair and round spectacles. He is not winning the match.

"Idiots," Remus mutters. He lets go of your hand and places his palm on your lower back. "Hey, knock it off!" This distracts the boy with glasses, allowing the other one to slam his arm down on the table.

"Shove it," he cries. Remus rubs the bridge of his nose. You don't think they've noticed you yet.

"Where are the girls?" he asks. More friends? you think.

"They're coming," says the boy who lost. Potter, you think. His eyebrows climb up his forehead once he notices you standing next to Remus.

"Marlene called and said they had to stop at home first," adds the other one. His eyes find you and his gaze is sharp. "And who is this?" he says, eyeing you.

"Uh," you say. Remus's hand presses a little harder into your back. "Remus and I do book club together?" You put the plate of cookies down on the table like a peace offering.

"Merlin's beard," glasses boy whistles. "She's real."

The one with piecing looks delighted. "James, you owe me a fiver." He holds out his hand.

"Fuck off, Sirius," says...James. "Wait are those cookies?"

"As you can see," Remus sighs, "these gits are James and Sirius. Are you two about finished?" You look at him and his cheeks are a little pink but he's doing his best to look bored. James and Sirius break into roars of laughter as they scoot to make room for you both. Remus ushers you into the booth. "I'm going to get drinks," he says. "What would you like?"

"Whatever you're having," you tell him. You tug off your coat and don't know what to do with your hands.

"I want a stout, Remus," James says.

Remus doesn't even look at him. "I wasn't asking you, dear." He winks at you and turns on his heel, heading for the bar. You feel a bit strange to be left with two guys you just met, but this is how you make friends, right?

"So what's this about me not being real?" you ask. Sirius raps a tattooed knuckle on the table before reaching for a sugar cookie.

"Well," he drawls. "Lupin told us about his book club when he started going earlier this year but we don't hear much else about it. And then a little while ago, he comes to drinks and he says there's a new girl."

James says your name in a poor imitation of Remus's accent. You twist your fingers in your lap. "And he says a few things about this new girl," Sirius continues, until James elbows him.

"Keep your limbs to yourself, Potter," he grumbles.

James leans in, elbows on the table. "Remus hasn't made a new friend since like, grammar school. So naturally we thought he was having us on when he said you two were friendly."

"Oh," you say. He's been telling his friends that you're friendly? It makes your chest tight in a nice way, like you're being hugged. "Well, thank you for letting me crash your pub night," you say.

"Are you kidding?" Sirius deadpans. "We've been begging him to invite you for weeks." Remus returns before you can reply with two pale-looking pints. He sets them down and slides in next to you, close enough that it's clear you know him the most, even if that's barely true, but far enough that you're not touching except for your knees knocking under the table. He stretches an arm across the top of the booth behind you. You hope you're not staring.

"So how were the books this time?" James asks. His eyes say mischief but he seems to be willing to let you off the hook for now. You and Remus recount the drama from today's meeting. The boys ask you basic questions like what you do for work and how you like the city and what club you support, but none of it feels stale or disingenuous. In fact, it really feels like they want to get to know you.

"Well, surely you've been to the skating rink in the park." Sirius is interrogating you on what neighborhoods you've visited. You shake your head and he gasps like you've slapped him. "What about the market?"

"I don't really do the holidays very well," you say, a bit softly. He raps his knuckles on the table again and Remus presses his thigh into yours on purpose. "I just haven't got my footing yet. I haven't been here that long and I don't have a guide."

"Well that won't do," James says.

"You do now," Remus says. You turn to him and find that he's closer than you realized. His eyes bore into yours and he looks rather serious. "Have a guide, I mean. You'll just do everything with us." You blink. Is it really this easy? Making friends? A handsome boy wants to facilitate your holiday season and you don't really know what to say.

"Brilliant idea, Lupin," Sirius says happily. "I always say you're the smartest of us."

Remus kicks him. "Okay," you say. "That sounds nice."

"I'm sure Remus has your phone number," James says cheekily. "He'll sort it." Remus does not, in fact, have your phone number, but you remedy that by passing him your mobile. He taps away at it with one hand, the other still hovering just over your shoulders.

"Where the bloody fuck are the girls?" Sirius grumbles. It seems he can change moods from one moment to the next faster than anyone you've met before. "Marlene has my nice suede jacket from last week."

"And we need Lily here so James stops looking so put out," Remus says, not looking up from your phone. "Lily is his girlfriend," he adds for your benefit. "Are we not good enough for you, Jamie?"

James ignores him.

"More friends?" you say quietly. Remus nods.

"You'll like them. And they'll adore you." You've been friends with him for all of one night, but his tone is sincere. The pub lighting makes his scars softer and you fight against leaning into him as he talks.

"How do you know?"

His mouth curls up at one end in a smile that makes you shiver a little. "I just do."

__

It wouldn't do to develop a crush on your first real friend in town, so you try your best not to over the next few weeks. You fail miserably. How could you not like Remus? He carts you around the city with his friends -- your friends too, he insists -- going ice skating and drinking mulled cider and market shopping and every time you are struck by how lovely he is. He holds your hand a lot and sends you photos he manages to take of you without you noticing. You meet the rest of the group -- Lily and Marlene and Dorcus -- and you love them, too. You see lights all over the city and laugh a lot and smile so much your cheeks ache. His friends tease you and you end up in multiple group chats and things start to feel good. Even when you go back to your apartment alone, you feel warm. You are just excited for whatever you're going to do next.

And then it's New Year's Eve.

The pub you've become a regular at is having a party and Lily was timely enough to book your regular table for the whole crew. You're running a little late because you could not decide what to wear, but you make it, shoving yourself through the crowd to the back booth.

Someone -- you're not sure who -- spots you and screams your name. You recognize a lot of the people here, but it's not until James enters your field of vision that you relax.

"There she is!" he cries, looking over his shoulder. "Remus, she's here!" Remus emerges from the crowd and scoops you up, pressing his lips to your cheek in a quick hello as he grabs your coat and pulls you in for a hug. He's warm and smells like beer and something spicy.

"You look lovely," he says. He's had at least one drink judging by the color of his cheeks and his general handsy-ness.

"So do you," you say. He wrinkles his nose at you.

"Go sit in my seat and I'll get you a drink. The usual?" You nod. He gently pushes you towards the table and disappears into the crowd. You slide into a space Remus has clearly vacated next to Sirius. He's got some sparkles on his lower lids and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he shuffles a deck of cards. Everyone at the table is flushed and ready.

"Hey, you," he says. "You in?" You've no idea what they're playing.

"Next round, Sirius." He shrugs and you watch something that looks like Hearts happen in front of you.

Remus returns before the round wraps up and you stand to give him his seat. He looks at it and then at you and then back at the bench before he slides in, setting your pints on the table before wrapping his long, slender fingers around your wrist and tugging just enough so that you stumble towards him and end up in his lap. Everyone at the table is fighting smiles and Sirius wraps up the round and turns to you both. He puts the cigarette behind his ear and manages to look extremely bored with your antics.

"Now are you playing?" You nod, breathless. Remus's arm wraps around your back, hand settling on your hip so that you won't fall off of him.

A hand moves your hair off of your shoulder and you feel lips on your earlobe. "What are we playing?" You turn and all of a sudden Remus's face is incredibly close to yours. He does not move away.

"No idea," you say, forgetting that you do know what you're playing. Your brain is a little fuzzy right now. Which is probably why you lose horribly, Remus laughing underneath you as you desperately try to shove aside thoughts of kissing him so you can focus for just one second.

And then it's almost midnight. The energy in the pub changes to something a bit more exuberant and someone passes out champagne in classes of all kinds. You end up holding a whiskey tumblr of fizz and the booth around you empties as everyone gets to their feet, ready to chant in the new year. Remus maneuvers you gently so that you're no longer totally in his lap, just next to him with your legs across it. His arm is a warm band around your shoulders to keep you close. The pub increases in volume as people start to sing.

"Have you got anyone to kiss at midnight?" he yells into your ear, lips brushing your skin again.

You pull back to look at him. He's flushed, but his eyes are clear. "I think so," you say. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he sets down his own glass and grabs your jaw. His thumb rubs over your lower lip.

"Lucky bloke," he says. The countdown chanting starts around you. You cup his jaw for the first time and run a gentle finger along one of the scars on his jaw. He shudders.

You can't wait a second more so you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He gasps just a little bit before responding, tongue tracing the seam of your mouth. His fingertips dig into your party dress and you kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and everyone is cheering and you think some of it might be for you two.

You have a feeling that this year isn't going to be so bad.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[super-cosmic-library]

Okay, I started this a while back after watching a tiktok by @peter-pantomime on the same subject and have finally gotten around to finish it. Anyways 

                        _______________________________________

Steve has a tell for when he’s about to do something utterly stupid and heartbreakingly selfish. Eddie was surprised that no one else had picked up on it yet. Apparently they’d been fighting literal demons together since ‘83, right? How hasn’t anyone else realized it?

Of course, Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes off of the former Hawkins High royal. Sue him. If he was going to be torn limb from limb by sleep-paralysis Venus flytrap-looking motherfuckers, he was at least going to drink in the face of a god before descending to hell. Again.

He’d first seen Steve’s tell in the boat on Lover’s Lake, right before Steve had plunged into its murky depths. Eddie and the girls had been wrapped up in a discussion of their next moves while Steve had stayed silent. His eyes, dark pools of amber and more world wary than any nineteen-year-old’s eyes ought to have been, flitted off into space before coming back into focus. It was a split-second moment, but Eddie had caught it. Of course he had. Despite all of the horror he had been exposed to in the past forty-eight hours, he was surprised that he was able to look at anything but Steve when he was around. He was utterly hopeless when it came to Harrington.

Suddenly, Steve was standing in the boat, challenging it to capsize them. Then, he was tugging off his shirt (and making Eddie’s brain short circuit) and shoes and jumping into the icy waters below.

It was stupid and selfless and he had found the gate.

At the time, Eddie didn’t realize that that moment he had witnessed would be a recurring theme for Steve. But then it happened again.

Steve had changed the plans at the last minute. It was stupid, but, really, even with Buckley’s two left feet, did they really need to have three people throw Molotovs at an unconscious Vecna? Besides, Nancy Wheeler had her sawed off. Robin and little miss perfect Nancy Wheeler, who Eddie was quickly learning was a total badass, could handle it. So, Steve stayed back with him and Henderson to distract the bats.

And distract them they did. As long as he lives, Eddie knows he will never be able to top the concert he played in hell.

But then the bats came through the vents.

Eddie was about to scramble up the rope after Henderson when he saw it. Steve’s eyes were focused on something that wasn’t there, then they were back on Eddie. Then Steve was picking up their fallen weapons and bolting out the door, screaming at the top of his lungs.

The bastard was trying to lure the bats away from Eddie and the gate. He was going to get him and his perfect ass killed. Of course Eddie was going to follow him. 

Eddie doesn’t run toward danger. The sting of the wounds those bats had ripped in him reinforced that idea. But, he realized, as he lay on the ground, bleeding out and surrounded by hundreds of demobat corpses, he would run toward Steve.

Thankfully, the two of them had managed to hold off the demobats long enough for the girls to finish out the mission. They weren’t too too damaged when the demobats fell unconscious from the sky and the girls made their way back to the trailer park. Eddie shudders to think of their fate had they been completely immobile. Wheeler, Buckley, and Henderson may be tougher than they looked, but they wouldn’t have been able to drag his and Harrington’s sorry asses back topside.

After a week bound to a hospital bed in a room he shared with the object of many a wet dream, the two were discharged. Free to roam what was left of Hawkins. They ended up still spending most of their time at the hospital, though. Waiting with bated breath as Red’s injuries healed.

That’s where Eddie saw Steve’s tell a third time.

Jason Carver had, much to Eddie’s disappointment, had survived Vecna tearing the town apart with only a few bumps and bruises from his fight with Lucas. Lucas said that if Jason had been just a foot or two to the right when it happened, he would have been vaporized by Vecna’s death beams, or whatever. Really, that was more disappointing than the prospect of the semester being extended into the summer months as the town tried to clean things up.

Carver had caught whiff that Eddie and his gaggle of nerds were making frequent trips to the hospital. That deranged brain of his wouldn’t let him rest until he ended Eddie, it seemed.

Carver had appeared on Max’s floor with storm clouds and lightning behind him. Eddie had been picking up Will and El (who were both threatening to overtake Henderson’s place as Eddie’s favorite freshman), while Steve and Lucas were arriving for their visit with Red.

Eddie doesn’t even see him coming, too engrossed in brainstorming El’s character for the upcoming one shot with the two siblings. 

Suddenly, Carver is crowding his space.

Suddenly, Steve is pulling the jock away.

Suddenly, Carver is spitting in Steve’s face.

And Steve does his tell.

And Eddie grabs the kids as Steve throws the first punch.

Starting a fight in a hospital is never a good idea, but Carver was really asking for it. As the two boys fight, Eddie notices another thing. See, he had seen Harrington absolutely obliterate a hoard of demobats. He not only has the looks of a Greek god, but the power of one too. But here, when fighting a mere human mortal, he is pulling his punches. He is showing undeserved mercy to this scab of a human. He is warning Jason to not mess with Eddie, and it is devastatingly hot. Suddenly, he understands why girls liked watching boys fight.

Security is called, and the two are forcibly pulled away from each other. Steve somehow uses the Harrington charm to convince hospital security to only kick Jason out of the building, despite the fact that he threw the first punch. Eddie has to force himself not to stare too adoringly at the spectacle. Seriously, he has a problem.

After that, things calm down exponentially. Life, for the most part, goes back to normal. Except now, the gaggle of freshmen that follow him around is doubled, and suddenly he is being invited to weekly movie nights with the people his age who also know about the Upside Down, and now he is spending most of his free time with the former King of Hawkins High and the man in question seems to want to spend time with him too.

The next time Eddie sees Steve’s tell, it’s a Friday night and they are sitting on the couch in the new government-issued trailer, the tv playing some forgotten movie in the background. Jonathan and Argyle had gone back to California with the rest of the Byers to pack up the rest of their things to ship back to Hawkins. Nancy and Robin had said they needed to work on college application essays, but from the lovesick looks on the girls faces, he had a feeling they had less academic pursuits in mind. 

So, it was just him and Steve and some comedy that Steve had checked out from Family Video that Eddie had forgotten the title of. He supposed it didn’t matter. Neither were paying any attention to the film. Rather, they had started talking about the kids and their friends and the future, slowly inching closer and closer together until their knees knocked against each other. 

Eddie tried to school the butterflies that always fluttered around whenever he was in Steve’s space. Eddie wants to make a move on him, he really does. However, he is about 64% sure that Steve is straight--the number decreasing by the day--and that is still too big of a risk to take if he isn’t. And Eddie doesn’t want to be wrong. So here he is, crushing on a straight guy not for the first time--staring longingly into said straight guy’s eyes, and--

oh.

Steve’s eyes flick away for a beat, then they meet Eddie’s eyes again. His tell. But what is he readying for--

oh.

Steve’s gloss coated lips brush his own chapped ones. Eddie doesn’t react in time, because Steve is pulling away, embarrassment painting his normally confident face.

That won’t do.

Eddie summons all of the bravado he has a Dungeon Master, and grabs the collar of Steve’s polo, pulling him back in. Their lips crash together, like waves in a hurricane. Eddie forces all of the feels he hasn’t dared show into their kiss.

The hand that had grabbed Steve’s collar relaxes and moves to cup his jaw. With his other hand, Eddie greedily runs his fingers through Steve’s legendary, perfect hair. Meanwhile, Steve’s hands delicately grasp Eddie’s waist, where their twin scars lie. Steve touches him as if he’s scared Eddie break. Like he will run away again. Doesn’t he know by now that he’ll never run away from him? He’s not going anywhere.

When they finally break apart, Eddie gets a good look at Steve and wonders if this is the first time he’s taken a stupidly brave risk and not gotten hurt.