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corameiwrites · 2 days ago

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𖦹 searching for love 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: your shift at a small bookstore is about to end when a handsome stranger walks in five minutes before closing

wc: 2k

A far off chime sounded from the old grandfather clock, signaling the passing of another half hour. That meant it was 8:30, and more officially, 30 minutes past closing time. Normally, you would have been packed up and locking the door by 7:58, eager to get home to your grouchy cat, messy room, and half-written research paper. There was nothing normal, however, about the six-foot something man with biceps the size of your head, meticulously browsing the shelves of your bookstore.

Well, not yours, but the number of shifts you picked up having to pay the bills for your not-so-cheap Gotham apartment had basically made this place your second home.

So when the very fit and handsome stranger walked in a mere five minutes to closing, you lingered a little. Behind the counter at the front of the store, of course. It was far too scary to go and ask him if he needed help—you would run the risk of embarrassing yourself further.

Earlier, when he had entered, you made the mistake of welcoming him with a rushed “Good Morning” despite the full moon visible through the store windows. He had glanced in your direction, nodded, and walked further into the store, going to start his long search of whatever it was he came here to look for.

Which, by the looks of it, he found.

He set the books down near you, looking at an assortment of random trinkets and bookmarks displayed on the counter.

You smile, recognizing the titles. “Are you a fan of Austen?”

His head sprung up as though he hadn’t been expecting you to speak to him. “Uh, yeah. Used to read some of her stuff when I was younger. Thought I’d pick them up again.”

“Ah, I see. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites.” Looking up the titles on the rather out-dated computer, you ring them up on the register.

“Then I’ll be sure to read it first.” The corners of his mouth twitch up in a semi-smile as his hands retreat into his leather pockets. An odd choice to zip a leather jacket all the way to his chin, but who are you to judge? It's only now you're looking that you notice the scars littered across his face, as well as the few wisps of stark white hair across his forehead. You look down into his eyes, and though it was only a fleeting moment of prolonged eye-contact, it made you feel far too vulnerable.

Looking away and vaguely remembering some staff meeting about professionalism, you read the total amount due to him. “Cash or card?”

“Uh–cash.” His face blanks, and he blinks twice before digging through his pockets. His brows furrow. “Sorry, I…” his hands pat down his cargo pants before his shoulders slump. His face turns to one of slight annoyance. “I lost my wallet.”

“Oh.” Frankly, you don’t know what to do in this situation, and by the looks of it, neither does he. It's a little awkward—do you suggest he trace his steps? Call the bank to pause all his cards? But he’s paying in cash. Oh god, a thought crosses your mind. Is he a criminal? Fortunately, your mouth speaks before you even process what's coming out of it. “I could…put these on hold for you, if you want?”

He runs a hand through his hair, and it's embarrassing the way your eyes track the movement. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother. It's my fault, anyways.”

“It’s not a bother, it happens to the best of us,” leaning over the counter, you point to a small poster with store hours. “I work tomorrow and Wednesday until closing if you want to come in around this same time, but I could tell my other coworkers of the situation if you come in a different day or time.”

Silently, he stares at the poster. You recline back to your standing position, mentally slapping yourself for sharing your work schedule with a complete stranger who could very well be a criminal. A hot criminal.

“...You close at eight?”

“Yes sir, every day except for Sundays.” Thank you for finally showing up, customer service voice. He frowns, lifting his arm and pushing the sleeve of his leather jacket up before looking at you in shock.

“You're closed right now?” he asked, though it sounded more like a state of a fact.

You start to fidget with your clothes. “Technically speaking, yes.”

His hand flies to his face, semi-face palming. “Shit,” he starts to back away slowly towards the door. “I am so sorry, I didn’t know.”

You smile at his panic, feeling a little amused despite yourself. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“No, it's horrible, I’m horrible.” You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at his apologetic demeanor. By now he's halfway out the door, but turns back at your laugh.

“Trust me, it’s completely fine. I’ll keep these,” you lift up Pride & Prejudice, “behind the counter. Good luck finding your wallet!”

To that he nods, leaving and walking down the sidewalk in a rush. You stand for a minute, replaying the strange yet exciting interaction, hoping that the man would come again to claim his books.

You were absolutely going to text your best friend about this when you got home.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ♥ ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Jason Todd had lost track of time. Maybe it was the warm lighting that made the strain on his eyes decrease, or the soft music soothing his aching head, or the various earth-tone decorations that made him stay longer than he intended. He had only meant to hide for a couple minutes, enough to get Condiment King off his trail and onto Tims. That was until he spotted Pride & Prejudice on a shelf with the exact cover of the one he read in Bruce's library when he was younger. Blaming it on nostalgia, he picked it up, and before long the quaint bookstore became less of a hideout and more of an actual store.

In all honesty, he could have spent the rest of his patrol in the place if not for an angry text from Tim cursing him out; something about going MIA and getting the mustard and ketchup smell out of his suit. Snapped back into reality, he found himself with a rather large amount of books he definitely couldn’t fit into his motorcycle bag.

Through little internal debate, he lowered the amount to three books, Pride & Prejudice, 1984, and This Is It, chastising himself as he made his way to the front. It was reckless spending so long hiding when he was supposed to be out on patrol. Hell, his helmet and guns were thrown behind a dumpster in an alleyway down the street! For all he knew, they could be stolen and pawned by some homeless person.

But there was just something about this store and its ability to make him lose track of time.

He hurried to the register, glancing at the super-hero themed erasers. He spotted some of his family's personas, grimacing inwardly. Ever since coming back to Gotham, they had been pestering him to join them at the manor outside of vigilante duties. Personally, he would rather be shot ten times before–

“Are you a fan of Austen?”

He looked up, a little spooked. Did he totally forget that there was another person here, working? Maybe. Scrambling his head for a response proved a daunting task, and that smile you were giving him wasn’t helping. “Uh, yeah. Used to read some of her stuff when I was younger. Thought I’d pick them up again.”

“Ah, I see. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites.” You looked through the books, ringing them up on your computer. You seemed almost pleased with his choice in literature.

“Then I’ll be sure to read it first.” That knowledge, for some reason, makes him happy. From what he remembers, he also enjoyed the tale of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy when he was younger.

He put his hands in his jacket pockets, slouching a little more than usual as he studied your clothing and your face. You were young, probably around his age and good looking, working at a bookstore; definitely not anyone dangerous. He knew his height and build tended to intimidate people, and despite its uses when he wore the mask, off-duty he rather disliked it. He didn’t look kind or soft the way you did. Conscious of his build and the darkness outside, he did what he could to hopefully put you at ease.

You turn back to the register, clicking a few buttons. “That’ll be $14.33.” you look back up at him. “Cash or card?”

“Uh–cash.” Legally, he couldn’t use cards since he was supposed to be six-feet under. He moved his hands around in their pockets, trying to find his wallet. “Sorry, I…” Patting down his pants, he inwardly groans, remembering leaving his wallet in his safehouse of the week before going out for patrol. “I lost my wallet.”

“Oh.” Yeah, he's a dumbass. “I could…put these on hold for you, if you want?” Your voice is hesitant and he swears on everything he will always check if he has money in his pockets before entering another establishment ever again.

Running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he picked up on, he waves you off. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother. It's my fault, anyways.”

“It’s not a bother, it happens to the best of us,” leaning over the counter, you point to a small poster with store hours. You're still talking to him, but he looks at your face, noticing small details he hadn’t before, like the unique slope of your nose, the shade of your lips and how delicately your lashes fall over your eyes. When you stop talking, he averts his gaze at what you pointed to.

“Open Mon.---Fri. 10 A.M. to 8 P.M., Sat.---Sun. 12 P.M. to 5 P.M.” He reads it again, trying to remember the day. Damian wasn’t on patrol, so it was a weekday. “Open Mon.---Fri. 10 A.M. to 8 P.M.” He rereads it once more in confusion. Given the darkness outside, there's no way it wasn’t past eight already.

“...You close at eight?” he hesitantly asks.

“Yes sir, every day except for Sundays.” If you were closer, he probably would have teased you about the customer service voice. He checks his watch. His whole body freezes as he reads the time.

8:34

His head whips to you in confusion. “You're closed right now?”

“Technically speaking, yes.” You seem almost bashful as you answer.

Instant mortification fills his body, and he could hit himself for what he’s done. Not only did he unintentionally skimp out on patrol with Tim in a bookstore, potentially scaring the innocent and hot worker, but he wasted that workers time by wandering around for thirty fucking minutes past closing. He starts to leave, apologizing to you, and despite your assurances, he can’t bring himself to face you knowing he’s kept you working later than you should. He's halfway out the door when he hears you laugh, and he momentarily pauses, turning halfway to face you.

You’re smiling.

“Trust me, it’s completely fine. I’ll keep these,” you lift up a book, waving it at him, “behind the counter. Good luck finding your wallet!”

His throat seems to close up, and whether it's from embarrassment or that smile, he can’t tell. Nodding, he quickly leaves the store, walking in long strides back to his gear. Guilt, shame, and confusion all pile up inside him as he puts on his thigh straps, holstering the guns he put a little more care into hiding. Zipping down his leather jacket, he puts his helmet on, which immediately reconnects to his line with Red Robin. He's met with instant accusations and threats.

“Wait for me down Fourth and Main, I’ll be there at nine.” He murmurs quickly, grappling to the top of the nearest building before disconnecting from the line. He perches over the edge, watching the lights in the bookstore shut off before you run out, closing and locking the door.

He takes extra care to keep himself hidden from your sight, ducking behind various rooftop structures and grappling to different buildings, silently protecting your late walk home. It’s only when you’ve entered your building and he sees a corner apartment window light up that he leaves.

He’ll return to that bookstore tomorrow.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #batfamily #batfam #red hood #fanfiction #x reader #red robin #tim drake #corameiwrites

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miniscapes333 · 1 day ago

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What Would Happen in a Secret Hookup? (18+)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;) 👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

There’s a tension in the air long before it happens, an unspoken understanding that this is something neither of you should be indulging in, yet neither of you can resist. It’s the kind of connection that simmers beneath the surface, unacknowledged in daylight but undeniable in the quiet pull of stolen glances, in the way your body reacts when they stand just a little too close. Maybe it’s the secrecy that makes it more intoxicating, the knowledge that the moment you give in, there’s no going back. And when it finally happens when lips find their way to skin, when hands grip a little harder than they should, when your breath hitches in the silence of a dimly lit room it feels forbidden in the best way possible. This isn’t just desire; it’s a slow unraveling, a surrender to something neither of you can put into words but both feel deep in your bones.

Every touch is deliberate, teasing, testing, pushing just enough to drive you insane before pulling back again. There’s a game being played here, one of control and restraint, of teasing glances and fleeting touches that leave behind a trail of heat. They want you to want it to need it and the worst part? You do. The way their fingertips barely ghost over your skin, the way their lips linger at your ear before pulling away it’s maddening. But they know exactly what they’re doing. They know how to make you chase, how to make you beg without saying a word. And when they finally give in? When the teasing shifts into something deeper, more desperate, more consuming? It’s slow and deliberate, drawing every moment out like they want to memorize the way your body reacts, like they want to stretch this secret pleasure for as long as possible.

But the moment never truly belongs to you. No matter how intoxicating it feels, no matter how much you lose yourself in their touch, there’s always something lingering beneath the surface a knowing that this moment is fleeting, that it exists in the space between what’s real and what’s hidden. Maybe that’s what makes it so irresistible. It’s the kind of secret that lingers on your skin long after they’re gone, the kind that leaves you wondering if it was ever meant to be more. And yet, even as you pull away, breathless and wrecked, you know deep down: this isn’t the last time. The way they look at you before they go the way their fingers graze yours just a second longer than necessary it’s a silent promise. A secret never stays buried for long. And this? This is far from over.

PILE 2

There’s something inevitable about this, something magnetic and unstoppable, like the moment before a storm breaks heavy, charged, humming with tension that neither of you can ignore. You both feel it long before you act on it, that slow, smoldering buildup that stretches through glances held too long, through the way their touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, through the unspoken understanding that this whatever this is was never meant to be harmless. It starts in the way they look at you, in the way their body moves toward yours without hesitation, as if the universe itself is pushing you together. And once that last thread of restraint snaps? There’s no stopping it. Their hands are firm, possessive, tracing the shape of your body like they’ve been waiting for this, like they want to memorize every single inch of you.

Every movement is purposeful, each touch sending a slow burn through your skin, as if they’re savoring the moment relishing the way your body reacts to them, the way your breath shudders when their lips graze over your pulse, the way your fingers clutch at them when they press in just the right way. They take their time with you, teasing, tasting, mapping every sensation like they’re determined to master it, to draw out every sigh, every sharp inhale. But there’s also an urgency here, an unrestrained hunger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any second. And when it does when control finally shatters and desire takes overit’s nothing short of devastating. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s rough, desperate, consuming. The way they pull you closer, the way their grip tightens, the way their breath fans hot against your skin it’s a collision, a force of nature neither of you can resist.

But the aftermath? That’s where it lingers. The air is thick with the scent of heat and want, skin flushed, breath still ragged. And yet, even as you lay there, fingers tracing absent patterns against each other’s skin, there’s a knowing between yousomething deeper than just lust, something neither of you are willing to put into words. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this was exactly what you both needed. But one thing is certain: no matter how much you try to convince yourselves otherwise, this won’t be the last time. The way they look at you, the way your body still burns from their touch? Some things were never meant to be a one-time thing.

PILE 3

It starts with restraint, but it’s the kind that only makes the tension even more unbearable the kind that coils deep, winding tighter with every passing second. There’s something unreadable in their eyes as they watch you, something dark and knowing, like they’ve already played this out in their mind a hundred times before actually reaching for you. And when they do when their fingers finally skim your skin, tracing, testing, tempting you feel it down to your bones. There’s patience here, but it’s the wicked kind. The kind that makes you wait, that teases with whispered words, with lips that barely touch, with the heat of their body just close enough to drive you mad. It’s a game, one they play well, and they enjoy watching you unravel under their touch, under their deliberate pace.

But the second you push back, the second you let them know you’re not just going to take this passively that’s when the fire ignites. The restraint shatters, giving way to raw, unfiltered hunger. Their hands are on you like they can’t help themselves, gripping, pulling, claiming. Everything about this is deep and all-consuming the way their breath mingles with yours, the way their touch turns urgent, the way your bodies fit together like they were always meant to. The need is relentless, a desperate, fevered craving neither of you want to fight anymore. It’s fast, it’s heated, it’s pure, unadulterated passion like the kind you don’t just feel, but the kind that lingers, that seeps into your skin, that leaves you breathless and aching long after it’s over.

And when the fire finally dies down, when the tension finally gives way to the slow, satisfied stillness after, there’s something else that remains. It’s not just lust, not just desire it’s something sweeter, something softer, something dangerous in its own right. Because this wasn’t just physical, and you both know it. The way they touch you now gentler, lingering, almost reverentn tells you that this was more than just a secret hookup. It was a release, yes, but it was also a connection, an unspoken admission that neither of you can take back. And maybe that’s the most dangerous part of all. Because if this was supposed to be a one-time thing, then why does it feel like you’ll both be finding excuses to do it again?

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pretentious-blonde · 2 days ago

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for you? always

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you’re unravelling—badly—but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone

warnings: toxic work environments, crying, SWEET STEVE OMG

a/n: i made a part 3 but can be read as a STANDALONE, and once again, it is hurt/comfort. i just love sweet steve!!

if people want another part i am down. pt. 1 pt. 2

It might be an exaggeration, but Steve Harrington didn’t think life could get much better than this.

He was standing behind the counter at Family Video, half-listening to Robin as she complained, not really giving her his full attention. She could have been ranting about his terrible sorting system, or the stain on the carpet neither of them had managed to get out since last week. He wasn’t too sure. His focus was more invested at the clock on the far wall, waiting for it to hit 6 p.m.

It was Friday night, closing time. Normally, he’d be stoked to clock out and get home, maybe lounge around or hang with the kids. But for almost four weeks now, his evenings had been filled with something—someone—more exciting.

He was aware of how annoying he had gotten. Hell, even Robin teased him about it, calling him the “lovesick puppy,” for the amount of times he was caught staring out the door wistfully, hoping you would wander in on your lunch break.

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Plus, if he could put up with months of her pining after Vicky, she could put up with it for a little while longer.

Four weeks—four perfect weeks since that first time you let him take you out for dinner. He brought you to Enzo’s, the fanciest spot in town, really trying to impress you.

He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face remembering it: the two of you tucked into a booth, your eyes lighting up when you tasted the pasta, holding it up for him to try it from your fork, your giggle when he got some of the sauce on the side of his mouth. He became acutely aware of your laugh, actually. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds.

After he’d driven you home that night and dropped you off at your door, he’d stood there, wanting so badly to kiss you, but also not wanting to assume just because you let him before, he could do it again.

So, he’d leaned in awkwardly, maybe an inch too far, and you’d given him the sweetest little smile that told him to relax and pulled him in the rest of the way. That moment was etched into his memory, something he found himself revisiting over and over.

And from there, it had only gotten better.

The second date at the local diner (you’d shared fries with him and stole a sip of his milkshake), the movie night where he insisted you pick the snacks—any snacks, your call—and still ended up grabbing M&Ms halfway through the film, claiming it was for “variety.” Then there was the afternoon you invited him over to bake cookies—insisting it would be a fun bonding activity—only to end up with flour in your hair and half the dough on the floor, while Steve practically bent over double laughing at how grumpy you looked in your patterned apron.

And that perfect night at Lover’s Lake. God, he was happy you hadn’t grown up around here. He took full advantage of your lack of knowledge about the location. It was magical, lying on a threadbare blanket underneath the stars. You’d called him “a total sap” when he waxed poetic about constellations he barely remembered the names of.

He had caught you smiling at him like he’d hung the moon himself. He’d stolen a kiss—okay, maybe two, or three—when you’d turned your head toward him, and the surprise on your face melted immediately into something so soft. It made him sure you were feeling the same as him. By the time he was driving you home, hand resting on your thigh, you both felt like you’d just lived out a scene in one of those old romance movies he pretended not to like.

Then came your visits to his territory. He could still picture the day you stepped through the door, a shy smile on your lips. He tried to maintain some level of professional cool, but the moment Robin saw you, she took it upon herself to tease him relentlessly. “So you’re the one Harrington won’t shut up about.”

He’d glared but couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. You’d just grinned, leaning against the counter, and introduced yourself to Robin, who then spent the rest of the shift chatting with you while Steve tried to play it cool and failed miserably. Yet somehow, that failure felt okay—good, even—because seeing you click so easily with his best friend just made his day sweeter.

Yes, the last month had been a whirlwind—one that left him with a permanent giddy glow. He liked you, really liked you, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. And it wasn’t just because you looked great in every light—though, let’s be honest, that didn’t hurt—but because you seemed to get him. You found humour in his dumb jokes, shared your own stories with him, and let him into your life without any of the hesitations or expectations he’d grown used to.

Even Robin had mentioned how he didn’t snap at customers as much. He threw a glance in her direction, who was now tapping her fingers on a shelf impatiently.

“Dude,” she said, rolling her eyes, “if you stare at that clock any harder, it’s gonna melt.”

“Give me a break,” Steve smirked, flicking his gaze back at the time. “I’m just… in a good mood, okay?”

“You just want to get out of here to see your girlfriend,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“She’s not my—” He paused, the flush creeping over his cheeks again. “We haven’t exactly— I mean, yeah, we’re kinda… I dunno, it’s been a few weeks. She might be my girlfriend.”

Robin laughed, smacking him lightly on the arm as she approached. “You’re so far gone, it’s painful to watch. Honestly, it's jarring watching you be all heart-eyed lately.”

He wanted to deny it, but instead he found himself laughing too. Was it that obvious? Judging by the glances from Robin and the kids—especially Dustin—it definitely was. But he couldn’t bring himself to care; if being obvious meant you were in his life, then so be it.

Finally, the clock hit closing time. Steve turned, circling the counter to the front entrance. He flipped the sign to “Closed,�� already imagining what he might do for the rest of the night.

You told him to come over that evening at around half past, maybe order some late-night takeaway, or go for a drive, or just hang out on the couch, do nothing but talk about your days. It all sounded equally perfect to him.

As he began turning off the main computer, the store’s phone rang, shrill and unexpected in the quiet. He exchanged a puzzled look with Robin.

Who the hell was calling this late?

You arrive at your apartment with shoulders hunched. Your day at The Hawkins Post had been a complete train wreck. You’d expected to face challenges when you got into journalism—no one just handed out dream assignments on a silver platter—but you hadn’t expected to be treated like the office errand girl.

All day, you’d been fetching coffees, photocopying pages, and biting your tongue whenever they cracked jokes at your expense. You told yourself you could handle it, that it was just part of paying your dues. But this afternoon, when they were brainstorming story ideas for the week’s paper, you’d jumped at the chance to volunteer something—anything. Before you could even get more than a sentence out, they’d laughed it off, practically shooing you out of the room.

You clenched your fists, trying not to let tears burn at the back of your eyes as one of the senior editors—some balding guy who’d never bothered learning your name—actually said: “Why don’t you just get us another round of coffee, alright hun?”

You’d never felt so small in your life.

Now, alone in your living room, the tears finally came. Hot, embarrassing, unwelcome. You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag aside, your mind buzzing with memories of the condescending smirks you’d gotten. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Made you question what you were even doing there.

The clock on your bookshelf read 6:00 p.m. That meant Steve was probably about to close. You’d said something about grabbing dinner, or even just hanging out at your place to watch that cheesy horror flick you’d both joked about. Normally, the thought would make your heart lift. But right now? You felt too raw to face him.

Not that you didn’t want to see him—you did, desperately. But something inside you balked at the idea of letting him see you like this: tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, humiliated. It’s too soon for that, you had only known him for about a month. No point in handing him your emotional baggage just yet. Maybe that was a two or three month sort of milestone.

With trembling fingers, you picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d scribbled on a scrap of paper “just in case” you needed him. A part of you wished you had the strength to ask for him, to ask for comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

It rang a few times, and your stomach twisted painfully. Then, his voice came through, warm and cheerful, exactly what you needed and exactly what you felt you didn’t deserve right now.

“Steve?” you asked hesitantly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve’s tone instantly made your eyes sting with fresh tears. “I’m just finishing up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer. You alright?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice not to crack.

“Uh… yeah. I mean—no, not really.” You cringed at how shaky you sounded. “I’m not feeling so great, so, um… I think I’m gonna have to cancel tonight.”

There was a moment of silence, and you could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, really? You sure you’re okay? Like fever or something? I can—”

“N-no, I promise, I’m good,” you cut in too quickly, wiping at your cheeks even though he couldn’t see you. “Just think I need some rest.”

“Right. Yeah, okay.” He sounded so disheartened. You didn’t like disappointing him. “If you need anything, will you call me? I can be there in like ten minutes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt gnawing at you. He was so sweet, and you were lying. Well, half-lying. You weren’t okay. But you couldn’t tell him that. At least not yet.

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured instead. “Just… sorry to cancel.”

He hesitated, that warm voice going even softer. “No, don’t worry about it. Feel better, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve,” you said, barely keeping it together. “Talk later.”

You hung up before your voice could betray you. The moment the line clicked, you tossed the phone aside, heart feeling heavier than before. God, you just hoped he wouldn’t be upset—or that he wouldn’t pry deeper. You didn’t trust yourself not to break down if he asked the right questions.

Still, a tiny part of you wished he’d come anyway.

Steve set the receiver back on its cradle, staring at the phone for a moment longer than necessary. His stomach did a little flip, the kind it did when something was wrong. He could usually read you pretty well by now—your moods, the subtleties in your tone. And that phone call? It screamed distress.

Robin, who’d been watching from across the store, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her. “She canceled.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Robin’s face immediately fell into sympathy. “That really sucks.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “No, I don’t think it’s… I mean, I hope it’s not that. She sounded off, like… said she wasn’t feeling well.”

Robin tilted her head. “She’s sick? Flu or something?”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip, trying to reconcile the tension in his gut. “She said she just needs rest. I offered to bring her something, but she shot it down.”

Robin gave him a long look, then sighed dramatically, piecing together the puzzle.

“Harrington, come on. You told me she just moved here, right? She’s got no family around? No close friends yet?”

“Yeah, she’s new,” he admitted, mind flashing back to the time you mentioned how weird it was living in a town where you barely knew anyone.

Robin folded her arms. “So, if she’s not feeling great, she’s gonna be alone.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated, slower this time. A prickle of realisation stirred in him.

“Which might mean,” Robin continued in her usual exasperated tone, “that you, as the devoted whatever-you-are—boyfriend? friend? something—should maybe check on her anyway.”

His eyes widened. “But she said—”

“People say a lot of things,” Robin cut him off. “Sometimes they don’t want to feel like a burden. Or they’re embarrassed. You, of all people, should get that, right?”

A flicker of memory—Steve himself blowing off concerned offers because he didn’t want to look weak—made him swallow hard.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “You think the pharmacy’s still open?”

Robin gave him a small, genuine smile. “Definitely. Swing by, grab some tea or cough drops, or whatever else might help. And maybe the grocery store for soup.”

Steve nodded firmly, adrenaline already buzzing in his veins. You’re alone. You’re upset. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let you suffer through that. Not if he could help it.

“You’re a genius.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” She waved him off. “And call me later—if you’re still alive. Just in case she actually has the plague or something.”

“Ha-ha,” he shot back as he flew around the counter, grabbing his jacket and headed for the door.

Steve hovered outside your apartment door, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, an overstuffed bag clutched in one hand. He’d stopped at three different stores, grabbing tea, soup, your favorite candy, a variety of painkillers—everything he could think of to help you feel better.

Maybe he was totally wrong about the situation. I mean, hey, it wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe you truly wanted space. Maybe he’d overstepped. Maybe he’d come off overbearing.

But the memory of your shaky voice on the phone nagged at him. He couldn’t just stay away. You’d insisted you were fine, but your voice cracked at the edges. Better to let you tell him in person than for you to suffer in silence. So he took a breath, rang the doorbell, and braced himself.

When you opened the door, it was worse than he expected. Way worse. Every bit of resolve he’d mustered wavered.

You were still in your wrinkled work clothes, eyes red, cheeks blotchy. It was obvious you’d been crying, and the sight of it knocked the air from his lungs. Instantly, all of Steve’s doubts vanished, replaced by a need to do whatever he could to help.

“Hey,” he said softly, attempting a small, reassuring smile. You looked ready to apologise, but before you could say a word, your eyes brimmed with fresh tears. His heart clenched as he gently pushed the door open wider and slipped inside, letting the bag drop beside him.

“Hey, c’mon,” he murmured, pulling you toward him immediately. Not expecting to find you in this state, but nonetheless prepared to help. “It’s okay. Talk to me, yeah? Are you—are you feeling sick, or…?”

You stood there, overwhelmed, arms shaking as you let yourself cling to him. Steve’s heart ached—the same way it did when he saw one of the kids upset, except this was deeper, more urgent.

Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes and sank further against him, your breath catching in a muffled sob.

It was all he needed to hear.

He readjusted his arms to fit you better, cradling the back of your head, letting you cry into his shoulder. He could feel how shaken you were, how close you were to coming completely undone. It made him want to bury you in every comfort he could possibly give.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re alright.” He didn’t know if those things were true, but by the end of the evening, he would make sure they would be.

You pressed your face into his chest, holding him like he was the only solid thing in your life right now. He felt the tremor in your shoulders, the ragged rise and fall of your breaths, and it lit that familiar spark inside him—he needed to fix this. Except he didn’t know how yet. But he would try. So for now he just held you, gently running his hand across your back.

Eventually, he guided you away from the door, nudging it shut behind him with his foot. He decided it would be better to get you settled before trying to get you to talk.

“C’mon,” he murmured, leading you to the couch. “I…I brought a bunch of stuff—tea, soup, that candy you like…” He tried a tentative smile, but worry still ached in his gut. Those things seemed rather redundant now that he spoke them aloud. When he looked at you, it appeared you didn’t even register what he was saying. Whatever was ailing you, it certainly wasn't the flu.

“Hey,” he said again, voice hushed so as not to scare you. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” His gaze flicked over your tear-stained cheeks, and you could practically feel the genuine concern radiating off him. “I just… I want to help. I can’t help until you tell me what’s wrong. So… let me try, okay?”

His words hung in the air, soft and pleading. There was so much earnestness in his eyes, it almost hurt. He was trying so hard, and you could tell he was moments away from offering every solution under the sun.

That was who he was—a guy who dove in headfirst, wanting to protect and fix. And though part of you still felt hesitant, the rest of you knew you needed him right now. His soft, brown eyes begging you to let him in.

It would be cruel to tell him not to worry, especially since he already saw the state you were in. You took a deep breath as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“Work was… hard,” you start, voice trembling on the last word.

Steve nods, encouraging you to continue. “Yeah?” He scoots a little closer. “Tell me about it, angel.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. The humiliation still burns in your chest, but as soon as you see the concern in his eyes, the words begin tumbling out.

“All the guys at the paper,” you say, swallowing hard, “they basically laughed in my face today. I wanted to pitch an idea—I thought, maybe if I showed some initiative, they’d take me seriously.” You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your throat. “Turns out, they don’t.”

He inches forward, the couch creaking beneath his weight. “They laughed?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, blinking away tears. “The whole room, practically. They didn’t even let me finish. Just told me to go make more copies or bring them more coffee. I felt so stupid. Like I’m not cut out for any of this.”

Your voice cracks, and Steve’s expression tightens with empathy. He raises a hand to your cheek, carefully brushing away a stray tear with his thumb before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know how you feel,” he says softly. Then he corrects himself with a small shrug. “Well, not exactly. I know someone else who went through that crap. I don’t know the full story, but from what I heard, it was awful.”

Nancy let slip here and there snippets from her time at The Hawkins Post. The incessant ridicule, the constant demeaning remarks. It irked him then, but now? He was vexed. Grown men picking on you all for a power trip? Unbelievable.

He had to school his anger before he said something regretful, he always did have a sharp tongue. What you needed now was comfort, not someone going on a rampage on your behalf.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. But you know what I do know?” Steve continues, his voice dropping to a firm, truthful tone. “Those guys? They’re idiots, alright?”

“Maybe…” A shaky laugh escapes your lips, and you sniff, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “They made me feel like a complete joke.”

“No way. Not even close.” He shakes his head firmly, like he wants to banish that thought forever. He won’t allow you to linger in self-doubt. “You’re brilliant. Look, you picked up and moved across the country by yourself, found a place to live, and started a brand-new job in a town where you barely know anyone. That takes guts.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of the day pressing in again. “Feels like it was a dumb move,” you admit, voice quieter. “Like I’m playing dress-up in a grown-up’s world, and everyone else can see I’m an imposter.”

A flicker of protectiveness flashes across Steve’s face. He can’t stand the idea of you belittling yourself—he’s seen how you throw yourself into your work, how bravely you uprooted everything to move here, how determined you can be when you set your mind on something.

“Hey,” he says, tilting your chin so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re strong, you’re smart, and if they can’t see that, well…” He shrugs. “That’s on them. They’re the ones missing out. I swear half those guys probably haven’t stepped foot outside of Indiana.”

When you lean into him, relief flickers in his chest.

Thank God, maybe he’s getting through.

He tucks you closer against his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide to do, you’ll crush it,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I believe that.”

“Yeah?” you ask, voice thick.

“Absolutely.” He gives you a little squeeze. “You want a new job? You’ll find one. You want to stay and prove those assholes wrong? You’ll do that too. Just say the word, and I’ll be right there to cheer you on. Or beat them up, if that’s easier.”

Despite the tears still threatening at the corners of your eyes, you let out a half-chuckle. “I’ve never really been much of a quitter,” you admit, the first spark of determination returning to your tone.

“Didn’t think so,” he says with a grin, admiration evident in his voice. “Strong girl like you? You’re gonna do just fine.”

You nestle closer into him, thankful beyond words that he’s here, that he understands in a way you desperately needed someone to.

Steve’s just relieved that you’re letting him be the one to help you shoulder the weight. Something else he realised this evening was that he hates seeing you hurt, but if being here—listening, comforting—helps even a little, then it’s worth every second.

You exhale a shaky breath and smooth down the front of your shirt, eyes still puffy from crying. You feel lighter, like a burden’s been lifted just from having Steve here. Even with a hint of embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say, voice quiet. “For making you worry, I mean. I should’ve just told you what was going on.”

Steve’s gaze flicks over your face. “You didn’t—well, okay, maybe I was worried,” he admits, a tiny wry smile tugging at his lips. “But I’d prefer it if you just told me when you’re sad. I mean, I can’t fix everything, but I want to help—when you’ll let me.”

You nod, fingers picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I still feel bad for lying earlier. Telling you I was sick.” You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You got me soup and everything.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, shifting with a touch of bashfulness. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t at least try to look after you?”

A beat passes, and then your eyes snap to his.

“Boyfriend?”

Steve freezes, colour blooming across his cheeks.

Shit.

“Uh… yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, that’s—what did you think we were doing? I figured we were… you know, dating. I pick you up, I pay for stuff, sometimes we—uh—we kiss—” He falters, stumbling over his words. “Not all the time, but—”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile as you watch him ramble. Something tender wells up inside you. It’s like he’s laid himself bare—admitting out loud how he sees you, how he sees this. And it’s so damn endearing you can’t help the small giggle that escapes.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you tease, reaching to gently poke his cheek.

He groans, cheeks going even pinker. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, covering his face with one hand. “I can’t believe—”

You place your hand over his, coaxing him to look at you. “I like the idea of you being my boyfriend,” you say softly, each word weaving comfort through the space between you.

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and for a second, he looks almost boyish with relief. “You do?”

A small smile curves your lips as you lean in. “Yeah.”

You slide a hand to his cheek, guiding him into a kiss—slow, sweet, and laced with the warmth of everything you’ve been lacking back all day. He exhales against your mouth, shoulders easing with the gentle press of your lips. His thumb strokes lightly over your jaw as he returns the kiss, and you taste a hint of peppermint from the candy he’d been snacking on in the car. When he finally pulls back, breath a little unsteady, there’s a stunned happiness in his eyes.

“So…” he murmurs, voice catching in his throat. “I’m your boyfriend.” He tried to make it sound like a joke but you could see the question behind his statement. He wanted full clarification here. He wanted to hear you say it out loud.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Yes, Steve. You’re my boyfriend.”

“That’s—God.” He laces his fingers through yours, a giddy laugh bubbling from his chest. “That’s—yeah. Glad we cleared that up.”

You both end up in the kitchen soon after, unpacking the soup he brought. It’s nothing fancy—just store-bought chicken noodle—but it warms you from the inside out as you eat together, perched on stools by the counter. He slides you half the candy he picked up, and you pass the bag back and forth, bumping shoulders with quiet smiles. There’s something so normal about it—the day’s troubles left behind in another world.

Later, you curl up on the couch together, switching on the TV. Steve insists you get first pick after the day you had. You flick through the channels until you settle on some old sitcom that neither of you pay much attention to. You’re more focused on the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, the clock inches toward midnight. The hum of the television plays softly in the background as you shift to look at him.

“Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

He winces a little. “Yeah,” he says, regret threading through his voice. “’Fraid so. Saturdays are insane. I tried to switch shifts, but Keith was being a total pain. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shake your head. “I was just wondering if… you wanted to stay here tonight.” Your cheeks warm slightly at the invitation. “I live closer, and I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere. Plus…” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze momentarily. “I’d really rather not be alone tonight.”

Steve’s eyes flicker with surprise and then a rush of tenderness. “You—you want me to stay? I mean, I don’t want to impose. Not like in a—like we don’t have to—I mean—”

You cut off his rambling by resting a hand over mouth. “Steve.” Your smile is gentle. “Stay the night, please? I’m asking you to.”

He searches your face, seeing sincerity there, and his entire demeanour softens. You’re too damn sweet for your own good, he swears.

“Alright,” he breathes. “Yeah. I’ll stay.” Then he leans in, pressing a slow, grateful kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Eventually, the two of you shuffle into your bedroom, quietly laughing as you rummage around for that spare toothbrush you promised. You lend him an old T-shirt that’s slightly snug across his shoulders, which only makes you giggle more. By the time you both slip beneath the blankets, the mood has shifted from the sadness of the day to the tenderness of tonight.

He wraps an arm around your waist, and you snuggle into his chest, breathing in his soft scent. For a moment, neither of you says anything—it’s enough just to lie there, safe and comfortable, heartbeats syncing in the quiet.

“Night, sweetheart.” He murmurs and you sigh in agreement, already being lulled into sleep. It’s a happy sound—one that makes him pull you closer as you drift off.

You stir awake to the warmth of Steve’s arm still draped over your waist. Morning light filters through the curtains, illuminating the little dust particles swirling in the morning light. The alarm you set starts to go off and he lets out a quiet groan, burying his face in the curve of your shoulder as if he can hide from the responsibilities of the day. You can’t help but smile, tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand.

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

You push a sleepy chuckle past your lips. “You have to—Robin would miss you too much.”

“No she wouldn’t.” He sighs dramatically, rolling onto his back and turning off the blaring sound. “Probably count it as a blessing not to put up with me for a whole Saturday.” But there’s a small, silly grin on his face that betrays the fondness beneath all the complaining.

A short while later, you’re both in the kitchen, sipping hastily brewed coffee due to your shared reluctance to get up. You lean against the counter, watching as he rubs sleep from his eyes and nurses his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. You don’t say anything about the state of his hair, enjoying the way it falls messily across his forehead.

“You sure you’re feeling better?” he asks, gaze flickering over you, still laced with concern even though you’ve assured him more times than you can count.

You nod, a softer smile pulling at your lips. “I am. Thanks to you,” you add, nudging his foot with yours, blushing with how sappy you’re both being.

He tries for a humble shrug, but the flush creeping up his neck is unmistakable. “Anytime, angel.”

Before long, the clock reminds him that time is up. He slips into yesterday’s shirt—grimacing a bit at the wrinkles—and heads for the door. You follow, hands clasped around your mug. At the threshold, he turns to you, pressing a gentle goodbye kiss to your lips.

Then another.

And another.

“Steve, you’re gonna be late.” You let out an exasperated laugh, placing a firm hand on his chest.

He grins like a kid caught stealing candy. “What—trying to get rid of me already?”

“You know I’m not,” you sigh, rolling your eyes as you gently shove him. “I’m literally seeing you after you clock out!”

His voice lowers playfully as he backs out the door. “Damn right you are.”

He winks, then sets off, leaving you with a warm, tingly feeling long after he disappears from sight.

When Steve finally strolls into Family Video, he finds Robin already at the counter, re-shelving tapes. She glances up, raises an eyebrow, and greets him with a lazy wave.

“Hey. So… how’d it—” She stops mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes at him. “Wait a second.” She points accusingly at his shirt. “That is the same outfit from yesterday. You did not—”

“Whoa,” Steve lifts both hands defensively. “It’s not like that, okay?”

Robin sets down the tapes, folding her arms over her chest. “Then enlighten me. Because it sure looks like you had a fun night.”

“Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It was—look, it’s not what you think. She was having a rough time, I went to check on her, and… well, I stayed over. Nothing crazy.”

Robin cocks her head, curiosity replacing her initial look. “So she’s okay?” She may not know you as well as Steve did, but if you were important to him, you were important to her too.

“Yeah. She will be.” He nods, and a small, proud smile graces his lips. “My girl’s tough.”

Her eyes light up. “Your girl, huh?”

He bobs his head, trying to hide the giddy surge that washes over him. “Yeah. Officially.”

Robin squeals—actually squeals—and Steve flushes, glancing around to make sure there are no customers to witness it.

“We have to do a double date!” she says, practically bouncing on her heels. “We’ll get Vickie—”

“Rob,” Steve pleads, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from curving up too high, “let’s not scare her off, okay? One step at a time.”

“Fine,” Robin huffs, but she’s beaming at him. “But soon. I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, yet there’s no denying the warmth in his expression. The truth is, he’s never felt so content. The memory of your smile still fresh in his mind, and the knowledge that, yes, you’re his girl. Officially.

“Yeah, we’ll figure something out,” Steve says quietly, stocking a few tapes behind the counter. His voice is softer than usual, carrying a note of contentment Robin hasn’t heard in him for a long, long time.

She shoots him a conspiratorial grin. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, thinking of how you looked in the morning light, how sweet it felt to hold you close and kiss you goodbye. He looks out the window toward your apartment, knowing you’re going to be there when he leaves in a few hours. “Me too.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you

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aettuddae · 3 days ago

Text

high garden academy — chapter 83.

⟢ synopsis: a new school year begins at the high garden academy boarding school, bringing with it new students, and among them, the new center of attention for the drama-thirsty student body: the hong sisters. eunchae and her mysterious and unsympathetic older sister, daein, who oddly seem uninterested in the secrets, legends, and gossip of their new school. winter, the institution's top student, and karina, the popular girl and promising pianist, never imagined they would end up so closely involved with hong daein.

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[written chapter]

daein was leaning against a wall near where all her friends were forming a round and dancing to the music, she had a cigarette between her fingers that went back and forth to her lips from time to time, her now characteristic bored expression decorating her face as her eyes wandered through the crowd.

"you're really bold lately." karina's voice could easily be heard over the music. "quoting my tweets, bashing me." she reminisced. "since when did top student have such impunity?"

at the top of the club, on the second floor, karina and minjeong had met in a tumultuous manner. sure neither was the other's favorite person, but minjeong was having a day in which she couldn't stand anyone and when the oh-so-popular girl appeared in front of her, who was accompanied by taeyong, she couldn't contain the intrusive urge to nudge her shoulder with her body as she walked past her, which of course the blackhaired, who had a volatile character, didn't like.

minjeong was nice all the time, but when she didn't want to be it she could get really annoying.

"drop the mean girl act, will you?" the redhead's words were harder to hear because of how softly they came out. "you were just too close, it was unintentional." she lied, the reality is that it was indeed an angry act, but she wasn't waiting for her opponent to confront her.

the girl had never had an argument with a classmate before and her first one would not be over daein.

"i didn't think you were the type to act like that over a person." she folded her arms, turning her body completely towards her and facing her, looking down at her from the height.

"sorry, is just that your girlfriend," she made quotation marks with her fingers as she said that word. "she promises i'm the only person in her eyes and then she goes with you." she didn't know what had led her to say such a thing, but she was tired of keeping quiet, maybe provoking karina could give her answers.

"so it is all about her." she observed.

"why else would you and i have anything to do with each other?" she replied.

unlike volleyball, this time it had been karina's turn to lose. she didn't know how to contradict her, she of all people knew that minjeong wasn't lying when she said that daein looked at her, and she wasn't going to continue a fight over any person. she let out a long sigh,

why wouldn't daein choose her? she was sure sometimes she did, but why couldn't she be the only one?

her eyes wandered away from the shorter one's face and surveyed the place to see if anyone was paying attention to them, but beyond their friends, no one seemed to have noticed the crossing between the two girls. however, when her gaze fell to the floor below she was met with an image that made her approach the railing with haste.

daein was no longer in the same place she had been all night, but was now in the arms of her best friend, jennie, who had forced her to dance with her to get her to change that moody attitude she used to have. karina knew that the interaction probably had no hidden agenda, but she couldn't calm the pang she felt in her chest as she watched daein let the other girl move to the music, rubbing against her body, or as her hands roamed her neck, her arms and her waist. but what made her insides burn the most was the stupid grin that lay on hong's lips.

jimin had kissed her, had cared for her, but that had never made her smile.

"do something." a plea reached her ears from behind, causing her to look over her shoulder to find minjeong standing right behind her, almost glued to her back, watching as well.

"isn't she your best friend?" she inquired even though she knew the answer.

"jennie wouldn't be with daein." she assured and looked karina in the face who was giving her a sidelong glance, one that indicated she wasn't sure if she believed her. "yes, she's my best friend and she would never do that to me." she reiterated, but the girl didn't change her attitude. "which doesn't take away from the fact that i'm jealous." she admitted.

"you're lucky i am too." she confessed. "i wouldn't help you any other way."

"i wouldn't help the girl my girlfriend likes either." she commented casually, her eyes riveted on daein and jennie.

"you know damn well she's not my girlfriend so stop acting like i'm a ridiculous cuckold." she sentenced.

unknowingly, karina had given in to kim's intentions, she had given the information the girl wanted to get. minjeong was extremely smart and the blackhaired seemed to have overlooked it. now she knew that daein hadn't lied to her, that the whole bizarre plan that was so hard to believe was really happening.

karina nodded to her indicating to follow her. "where are you going with top student?" asked her friend giselle as they walked past her.

"if i tell you, you'll get mad." she warned simply.

"minjeong?" called taeyong from behind her, with a worried tone.

"i don't know what's going on either." she informed the boy and continued walking behind karina.

they both walked down the stairs leading to the first floor and with the pianist in the lead they passed through the crowd running past the people blocking their way. appearing out of the sea of people right where daein was standing with her friends, particularly jennie. yu approached the two who were still dancing and wrapped her arms around daein's waist from behind her back, who was startled by the sudden touch and turned around in surprise to look at what was going on.

"hello." murmured the younger girl tenderly as she came face to face with the girl.

"karina don't start-" her reaction was already coming with nuisance, but she fell silent when she saw the redhead only inches behind jimin.

"come dance." the girl tugged her by the waist with just enough force to make her body cut off all contact with jennie's.

"i don't want to dance with you." she pulled away slightly, but was still in the girl's grip.

"not with me." she quickly denied. "with us." she pointed at minjeong, whose face went pale with embarrassment as she realized what yu's plan was.

"are you friends now?" she crossed her arms over her chest molding them to the little space she had.

"we were never enemies." she clarified. "come here." she turned to the girl who was watching everything from the side and grabbed her arm to pull her over to where they were.

"sorry, i know this is weird." the redhead spoke to hong and then leaned down until she was within earshot of jennie. "how low is it to ally myself with karina because she was jealous of you?" she asked with a tone of embarrassment.

"ew." that was her best friend's only response. "just ew." she repeated then turned away and went back to the others.

daein was left alone with both girls who looked at each other in bewilderment as to what the next move was supposed to be, while daein's eyes stayed up, avoiding any contact with them. the first step was taken by the ideator of the situation, starting to move softly to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, throwing a signal to the other to do the same, and the latter, in the absence of certainty, obeyed.

daein felt uncomfortable, which it was obvious would happen to her having to share time with the two girls she least expected to see together, who kept her awake at night going over her bonds with them to try to understand them, to whom she had caused so many emotions, good or bad. faced with such discomfort, she preferred not to make the moment even stranger and after lighting a new cigarette, she started to sway slowly to accompany them. she didn't expect that karina would take this as a reason to get even closer to her and put her hands again on her waist, now dancing together.

minjeong was fighting her shyness and introverted personality, things that were clearly of no concern to someone like yu jimin, and she took daein's trembling eyes that looked at her uncertainly as she danced with the blackhaired as initiative to join them, hugging the older girl's arm and continuing her subtle movements to the music.

it was a competition now, even though they were on the same team. they wanted to know who was closer, who had her more on their side.

karina's hands slowly took course down the older girl's body, roaming her waist, her back, her chest. the contrary didn't take it well and copied her actions, moving her touch up the older's torso. for her part daein had too much weed in her system to think clearly, she was lost in both girls, in her girls. she leaned her head forward allowing the fingers of the two to climb up to the nape of her neck and tangle in her hair. her eyes were closed, her breathing heavy, she held the two in her arms. in the state she was in, she would have let them do whatever they wanted.

karina raised her head until her mouth was at the level of her ear, capturing her earlobe between her teeth and letting it go after giving it a gentle bite, then moving down to her neck and caressing the skin there with her nose.

minjeong brought her palm up to her cheek and drew her to herself with it, using the closeness to leave a trickle of pecks on her face and jaw, while with her thumb she caressed her skin.

maybe if daein were sober she would question why neither of them were restraining themselves, or why they were on good terms with each other, but her brain was completely foggy, so it took her a second to identify when a fourth body appeared behind the girls in her arms. it wasn't until they abruptly both separated from her that she woke up from her trance, looking up to find a guy dancing with them now. she looked at him in disbelief, and tried to narrow her eyes to focus on him better and make sense of his face, but she didn't, she didn't know who he was. the guy had his hands on minjeong and karina's backs, apart from an extremely cheerful smile on his face.

soon he would have daein's fist in his face as well.

daein had gotten into fights a few times in her life, more times she had been attacked over her bad attitude than she had attacked others, but she had experience hitting people. taeyong, for example. the girl lunged at the boy, raising her arm back in the air and gathering power to throw her fist forward to slam it into the guy's face with force.

his body went backwards from the impact and he covered his face where he was hit as if that would ease the pain. he straightened up and looked at the girl angrily, the happy expression he had seconds before seemed to have never existed. with sure and quick steps he returned to daein and hit her back, impacting his knuckles against her cheekbone.

a struggle ensued between the two, with punches and scratches coming and going from the girl. daein was dizzy from the drugs in her system, but that wouldn't make her lose, if anything it helped her not to feel so much pain from the aggressions. in a moment of lucidity she realized she could use her foot to put it between her opponent's and thus knock him down by pushing one of his legs. once he was on his back on the ground, daein sat on top of him, using the advantage to be the one in control, repeatedly punching his face in anger.

"don't touch them again!" she exclaimed before throwing her hand towards him again.

realizing that there was no longer any danger and that the biggest threat was daein, karina approached them both quickly, taking care not to take any damage as she leaned down and wrapped herself around daein's torso and then pulled back, thus forcing her to stand up and away from the boy, restraining her from lunging at him again by placing her hands on her chest. once calmer, daein realized that the entire club had their attention on them.

"i can't believe you got into a fight for us." commented karina in surprise.

the three of them were in the dean's office, sitting in the dark on a little bench against the wall, having just received the reprimand of their lives. of course, daein had taken the brunt of it and had only been spared expulsion for sneaking off to a party and getting into a fight because her father would be talking to the director tomorrow,

which meant he would give him a large sum of money to keep his daughter there.

the same could not be said about the other guy who thought it was a good idea to hit a girl.

meanwhile, karina and minjeong had received the same punishment as the rest of their classmates for going out without permission, which was the cancellation of their breaks for a month, which to jimin seemed like the end of the world, but to the other girl it meant nothing.

"are you okay?" minjeong looked at daein uneasily and put her hand on hers to try to comfort her.

daein nodded wordlessly.

"that was very hot of you." the pianist added as if it would make the situation less terrible.

"karina." her classmate called out to her, looking at her in disbelief. "let's not celebrate that she got into a fight." she shook her head.

"oh please don't tell me it wasn't." she reproached her. "that whole 'don't touch them again' thing was something." she recalled daein's words.

"i can't believe you're serious." she groaned at the things she said.

"can you two stop?" daein uttered word for the first time in hours. "watching you two interact gives me migraine."

"and to think this moody being is our love interest, huh?" she patted kim's arm to go along with her joke.

"is she always like this?" the redhead asked daein. "or does she ever take anything seriously?" the older girl shook her head negatively.

"we should go to sleep." the older one proposed.

"you have to heal those wounds first." ordered kim.

"you look like a tomato." jimin pointed out, earning another judging look from the other two. "an attractive tomato." she added.

"i'm going with minjeong." announced the oldest, causing the named one to be pleasantly surprised as yu opened her mouth to whine.

"is it because i called you a tomato?" she inquired with an exaggeratedly sad tone.

they both got up to start on their way to their rooms, their backs to jimin who still didn't move. daein stopped in her tracks and turned to her, looking at her hesitantly for a few seconds until she decided to walk over, lean above her and leave a kiss on her forehead. "rest."

"you too." she gave her cheek a short caress.

"pick a side." demanded the redhead from behind watching the whole scene.

"hold still." she demanded as she swiped a cotton ball with saline solution on it.

"it hurts." she whined, pulling her face a little away from the girl's hands before she pressed on any wounds again.

"it hurts now." she observed. "when you were at blows with a guy in front of everyone it didn't hurt." she nagged at her.

"hey, i did it protecting you." she defended herself. "i didn't like the way he touched you." she put her hands on the girl's waist.

"protecting us." she corrected. "you did it for karina too." she removed her grip from her body and continued to heal the marks on her face.

"he messed with both of you." she explained. "i wouldn't allow it with anyone."

minjeong said nothing and proceeded to wet another cotton ball to bring it to daein's face, where she swiped it across the scrape under her right eye, making daein hiss from the pain at the contact. the oldest raised her arm and pushed the girl's hand with it, removing it from her face, leaving nothing between them. she again held her opponent's hips firmly so that this time she would not remove it and drew her even closer than she already was.

"you know i like you, don't you?" daein reminded in a whisper, loud enough for only her to hear, as if there was someone else in the room.

"your actions and your words never match." she leaned her weight on the contrary's shoulders, they were so close that just by moving her head forward their noses would brush.

"then let me act on my words."

daein brought her touch up to minjeong's face, cupping her cheeks and pulling her to her lips, thus trapping her in a slow, tentative, careful kiss. it was more of a caress, a cuddle between their mouths. minjeong strengthened her grip on the older one by exerting pressure, trying to suppress the curious sensations stirring in her stomach.

hong's thumbs were tenderly roaming over the younger girl's skin, as if she was afraid of touching hard and breaking her. daein's inner difference, the violence of a few hours ago and the affection that now blossomed in her. their lips moved to the rhythm of absolute silence, to the sound of an imaginary melody, perfectly coordinated as if they had been lifelong dance partners.

but minjeong pushed daein by the shoulders and broke the kiss, pulling away abruptly as she caught her breath.

"what happened?" worried daein in a thread of a voice so subtle the redhead thought she never heard.

"you." she nudged her gently so as not to hurt her. "you're high." she reminded. "and i like you." admitted. "a lot." she clarified. "but not like this." she shook her head in denial. "not when you do it because of the substances in your system and not because you really feel it."

"but i do feel it." she assured standing up with a frustrated attitude. "you know i really do."

"but a kiss from you in this state is worthless." she began to gather her things. "in this state you would kiss any girl to fill your emotional deficiencies." she headed for the door.

"minjeong." she ran after her to hold her arm and make her turn to face her. "that's not true." she asserted, her demeanor drooping.

"if we hadn't stopped you today you would have tried to kiss jennie." she accused. "and i know that, i'm sure of it." she wouldn't cry in front of her, but she wanted to. "because when you're like this you don't care if you feel anything or not, you just want attention, someone to love you for a few seconds." she put her hand on daein's chest. "i can love you, but properly." proposed, her eyes filled with something that looked like illusion. "not like this, not like another one of your girls who fill the emptiness you feel." she let out a long sigh and receiving no response from daein, she left the room.

(!)

— taglist [OPEN] : @yoontoonwhs @hwm1hyun @jisooftme @gornoi @linnnsworld @xen248 @rinapomu @myouiiiiiiii @blaymine @chaewoni3 @aliceiwk @gfriendsapple @sewiouslyz @multiliker @cwpiqwon @pandafuriosa60 @gtfoiydlyj

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partoffantasy · 2 days ago

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When the Dawn Fades - Aaric Graycastle / Cam Tauri

⸻ image credits to artbycassmira & etherealbookart ⸻

summary: Aaric’s signet has always warned him of the inevitable, but when the time comes, saying goodbye to the love of his life proves to be the hardest part.

pairing: aaric graycastle x fem!reader warnings: angst, death, battle - ONYX STORM SPOILERS - if you haven’t read Onyx Storm yet, don’t read further word count: 2.9k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

The Riorson house was quieter than usual. The air inside felt heavy, weighed down by the unspoken fears none of them dared to voice. Outside, the wind howled against the stone walls, the approaching storm a mirror of the battle that will soon be there. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting long shadows along the floor, but even the warmth of the flames couldn't chase away the cold settling deep in Y/N’s bones.

She found Aaric standing by the window, his silhouette outlined in the dim glow of the lanterns. He wasn’t watching the storm, nor was he sharpening his blade like the others. He just stood there, staring out at nothing, his hands resting lightly on the windowsill. The tension in his shoulders was subtle but there—tight, restrained, like he was holding something inside.

Y/N had always prided herself on knowing him better than anyone. She had seen past the layers of arrogance and wit, had fallen for the man underneath—one who loved fiercely, who carried the weight of his past and still somehow found it in himself to care. And right now, she knew something was wrong. “You’re thinking too much,” she murmured, stepping up beside him. She reached out, fingers brushing over his wrist before lacing her hand with his, grounding him. “That’s dangerous.”

Aaric let out a quiet chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned to her then, really looked at her, his gaze tracing every line of her face as if memorizing it. As if it were the last time he’d get the chance. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m always thinking,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual, rough around the edges. “It’s a hard habit to break.” Y/N arched a brow, tilting her head slightly. “That’s not it.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t argue. He never could lie to her, not convincingly. Instead, his hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing softly over her knuckles, the smallest act of comfort. A beat of silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant murmur of voices in the other room—Xaden, Violet, and the others discussing last-minute battle strategies. But none of that mattered right now. Not when Aaric looked at her like this. Like she was something precious. Like she was something he didn’t want to lose.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, the words slipping past his lips like a confession, like a prayer. Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Not because she hadn’t known—she had felt it in the way he touched her, in the way he spoke to her, in every glance and smirk and whispered tease. But this… this was different. This was raw. She swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat. “I love you too.”

Aaric exhaled, his forehead coming to rest against hers, the weight of his presence a comfort she hadn’t known she needed. For a moment, they just stood there, breathing each other in, holding onto something neither of them wanted to name. Because if they did, it would make it real. And Y/N didn’t want to acknowledge the sinking feeling in her gut, the way his body felt like it was saying goodbye.

Before she could press him, before she could demand to know what he wasn’t telling her, Aaric pulled back, his hand coming up to cup her face. His thumb brushed over her cheek, his touch reverent, almost hesitant. “I need you to promise me something,” he murmured. Y/N frowned. “Aaric—” “Promise me.” She hesitated, her heart pounding against her ribs. “What is it?” His jaw clenched for a second before he exhaled, shaking his head like he was trying to dispel whatever thought had crossed his mind. “Just… no matter what happens out there, you keep going. You fight, you survive.”

Something icy settled in her chest. “Don’t talk like that.” “I mean it, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Promise me.” She didn’t want to. She wanted to tell him he was being ridiculous, that they were going to fight side by side and win like they always did. But there was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite decipher, something that made her stomach twist.

So she nodded. “I promise.” Aaric exhaled in relief, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade. "Do you remember the first time we met?" Aaric asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. Y/N smiled despite the unease coiling in her stomach. "You mean when you insulted my flying skills and almost got a dagger to the throat? How could I forget?" Aaric chuckled, the sound warm, genuine. "You were so furious. I think I fell in love with you right then and there. I'd never seen anyone so breathtaking when angry."

She rolled her eyes, but her fingers tightened around his. "You have a strange way of falling in love, Graycastle." His gaze softened, his free hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It wasn’t just that. It was the way you never backed down, the way you fought like the world itself depended on it. The way you looked at me like I was more than my name, more than my past. You saw me, Y/N. You always have."

Her throat tightened, her heart aching at the quiet sincerity in his voice. "Of course, I see you. And I love you, Aaric. Every sharp edge, every reckless decision, every stubborn, infuriating part of you." He exhaled, almost like he had been holding his breath, his forehead pressing more firmly against hers. "I love you so much it terrifies me. If I had more time—" "Don’t say that," she whispered, cutting him off. "We have all the time in the world. That should be enough."

Aaric swallowed hard, nodding slightly, his lips brushing against her temple as he breathed her in. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before resting his lips against her temple, breathing her in. Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to believe that everything would be fine. But deep down, she knew. Something was very, very wrong.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The morning of the battle arrived with a sky the color of steel, clouds hanging low, heavy with the chance of rain. The group stirred early. Armor was fastened, weapons checked and re-checked, but there was no nervous chatter today, no mindless teasing to keep spirits high. Everyone knew what lay ahead. Y/N tightened the straps of her vambrace, glancing over at Aaric across the room. He stood at the far end, adjusting the buckles of his own armor, his movements steady, deliberate. Too calm.

She had seen him before battle dozens of times, had watched him prepare with the same efficiency, the same focus. But this was different. It was in the set of his shoulders, in the way his fingers lingered on each strap as if memorizing the feel of it. It was in the way he looked around the room, at their friends, at her—like he was drinking it all in. Y/N’s chest tightened.

She crossed the room in quick strides, grabbing his wrist before he could pick up his sword. He looked down at her, expression unreadable. “You’re too quiet,” she said, searching his face. “Too… still.” His lips twitched, just slightly. “Would you rather I be pacing?” “I’d rather you be yourself.” Aaric exhaled softly, lifting a hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I am myself, Y/N.”

She shook her head. “No. You’re—” Her voice caught. “You’re acting like you already know how this is going to end.” Something flickered in his eyes. It was gone before she could name it, replaced by something softer, sadder. His fingers traced along her jaw, tilting her face up to his. “I know one thing,” he murmured. “I know that I love you.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Then fight like it.” Aaric’s lips parted, but whatever he had meant to say was cut off by the sound of Xaden’s voice calling for them. The time had come. He exhaled, stepping back, reaching for his sword. “Let’s go.” Y/N followed, but the weight of his words sat heavy in her chest.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The ground trembled beneath them as the dragons and wyverns collided onto the battlefield. It was chaos incarnate. The clash of steel, the crackle of fire, the deafening roars of dragons and the eerie shriek of Venin’s wyvern filled the air. The wind howled, carrying the stench of smoke and blood, the scent of a world on the brink of destruction.

Y/N’s heart beat in her chest like a war drum. Her fingers clenched tightly on the scales of her dragon, Caelan, the familiar heat of the bond between them sparking through her veins. The dragon’s emerald scales shimmered as they dove toward the frontlines, wings cutting through the air with swift precision. “Aaric!” Y/N shouted, her voice nearly lost in the storm of noise that surrounded them. She felt the weight of the moment in the pit of her stomach, the tension in the air crackling like lightning. “Stay close!”

Aaric’s voice came through next to her, steady despite the madness. “Always.” Molvic, the massive blue dragon, surged forward beside Caelan, his form sleek and deadly. Aaric, perched atop him with a focused intensity in his eyes, raised his sword high, signaling the beginning of the charge. Y/N’s heart clenched at the sight. They had fought side by side before, and they would do it again, even if this time felt different. More final.

They were going into the heart of Venin’s forces, and they weren’t alone. Around them, the air was alive with the sounds of battle. The distant crack of lightning, the clash of weapons, the screech of wyverns and dragons in combat. Y/N’s eyes scanned the battlefield, locking onto a Venin, who stood near the center, his wyvern circling around him with a sickeningly familiar malice.

Aaric’s voice was clipped. “We’ll have to get in close, or we’ll lose our advantage.” Y/N nodded, eyes narrowing as she signaled Caelan to bank left, swooping low over the ground. The venin’s cruel laugh echoed through the battlefield as he saw them approach. “Come, come! I’ve been waiting for this,” he taunted, raising his arms in a grotesque display of confidence. His wyvern screeched in agreement, its claws itching to tear through anything in its path.

The battle intensified around them. Dragons and wyverns tangled in the air, their roars shaking the heavens. Y/N’s mind was a blur, every instinct screaming for her to survive, to fight with everything she had. Aaric’s voice cut through the madness. “We need to take out the venin first!”

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on the venin’s glowing red eyes. Caelan roared, and she positioned her alloy arrow once more as they dove toward the venin, weaving through the air with deadly precision. “Molvic!” Aaric’s voice rang out again, commanding. “Distract him! Give Y/N the opening she needs!” Aaric’s voice was the spark she needed. With a primal scream, Y/N shot her arrow right into the venin’s heart. This time, it hit.

The battle raged on around them, but all Y/N could hear was the pounding of her heart, the frantic beat of her pulse as she pushed Caelan toward the heart of the chaos. The smell of smoke and blood thickened the air, the distant roars of dragons and the screams of the dying blurring into a single, maddening noise. But none of that mattered. Not anymore.

All that mattered was Aaric. Her eyes searched frantically for him, her breath ragged. Her mind was a whirlwind, her thoughts clouded with the memory of his words, his promise—his love. He had known something, something she hadn't wanted to acknowledge. He had been distant, too calm, too serene. And now, as her gaze finally landed on him, her chest clenched.

Aaric was kneeling on the ground, Molvic's massive blue form slumped beside him, the dragon’s body still but not lifeless. The battle had raged on, but the two of them—rider and dragon—were no longer part of it. His armor was bloodied, his chest heaving with labored breaths, his face pale, but his eyes… His eyes were the same as always—sharp, intelligent, filled with that haunting, quiet sorrow. And it was in those eyes that Y/N knew.

Her breath caught in her throat as she rushed to his side, her hands shaking as she knelt beside him, pulling him into her arms as best as she could. He was warm, but there was no strength in him, no vitality in his touch. His body felt heavy, too heavy, as if he were already slipping away from her. "Aaric..." Her voice broke, a desperate whisper as she cradled his face in her hands. "No, no, no… don't do this."

He looked up at her, his lips curling into a soft, almost bitter smile, as if he were seeing her for the first time in forever. His hand moved weakly to her wrist, the touch light, barely a pulse. "Y/N…" he rasped, his voice barely a breath. "I told you, didn’t I? I knew." Her heart clenched painfully, her vision swimming with tears she didn’t want to shed. "No," she whispered fiercely. "You can’t. We can’t—"

His fingers tightened, just slightly, and he struggled to sit up, his breath rattling. Molvic's massive form shifted beside him, his deep blue eyes dimming as the dragon's life force slowly bled away as well. The bond between dragon and rider, so strong, so unbreakable, was starting to sever. She could feel it, the weight of it pressing in on her chest, suffocating her.

"I knew," Aaric whispered again, the words breaking her heart with each passing breath. "When we first met, I knew. And when I saw you, when I really saw you, I knew." His eyes focused on her, trying to hold her gaze despite the pain. "You promised me… you promised you’d keep going." "Please, Aaric, don’t say that," Y/N pleaded, her voice thick with emotion as she leaned her forehead against his. "Please, you’re going to make it. We’ll make it through this."

He chuckled softly, the sound full of both sadness and love. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I wish I could’ve kept that promise. But I knew… I knew it would end like this." She shook her head, tears now spilling freely as she held him tighter, unwilling to let go, unwilling to accept the truth that was slowly seeping in. "I can’t lose you, Aaric. I can’t… not like this. Please, don’t leave me."

His hand moved weakly to her cheek, his touch tender despite the fading strength in his body. "You promised… you promised you’d survive, that you’d fight. Don’t break that promise, Y/N. You’ve always been stronger than you know." Her chest heaved with a sob, and she pressed her lips to his forehead, the warmth of his skin so vivid against her tear-streaked face. "I can’t live without you," she whispered brokenly. "Please… please don’t leave me. Not now."

He smiled again, a ghost of the man he had once been, the one full of life and fire, but this time, there was a tenderness in his eyes, an understanding that made her heart shatter. "I’ll always be with you, Y/N. In here…" He pressed his hand gently over her chest, just over her heart. "Always."

Molvic let out a soft, mournful cry, his massive head lowering to nuzzle against Aaric, the bond between them finally breaking as the dragon’s life force flickered and went out. It was slow at first, a delicate fading, as if both dragon and rider were holding on to each other, unwilling to sever their connection. But then, Molvic’s breathing slowed to a stop, and the stillness settled over them like a blanket, the last thread of their bond gone.

Y/N didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Aaric cradled in her arms, Molvic’s still body resting beside them. She didn’t know if the battle still raged around them, or if the world had stopped turning entirely. All she knew was that she couldn’t feel Aaric’s warmth anymore, couldn’t feel the gentle beat of his heart. "Aaric, please…" She kissed his temple, holding him as though her life depended on it. "I love you. I will always love you."

Aaric’s eyes fluttered closed, the last remnants of life slipping away from him. But just before the final breath left him, his lips moved, the words a final confession, a love letter in the form of a whisper. "I love you too, Y/N. Always… always." And with that, he was gone. The world seemed to pause around her as Y/N sat there, holding the lifeless body of the man she had loved. She could still feel the weight of his absence pressing down on her, could still hear the quiet whisper of his voice in her mind. But there was no going back.

The battle raged on, but all Y/N could do was hold on to his memory. The promise he had made her was now hers to fulfill. She had to keep going. For him. For them both. Her heart shattered, but she didn’t stop. She would fight. She would survive. And she would live, no matter how broken she was, no matter how much it hurt. But in her chest, where Aaric’s hand had once pressed, something flickered to life. The fire of his love. And it burned brighter than anything the darkness could throw at her.

#fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #xaden riorson #fourth wing fanfic #iron flame #onyx storm #aaric graycastle imagine #aaric graycastle x reader #cam tauri imagine #cam tauri x reader #cam tauri #aaric graycastle angst

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nuturalsuper · 14 hours ago

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Sam and Dean, still young, all long legs and tiny little shorts, both in shirts that used to be Dean's, then Sam's and were then hugging them a little too snugly and cutting right below their navels. They knew exactly what they were doing as they walked into the gas station to grab a pack of cigarettes, neither of them was a smoker, but thats what hookers looked like in movies that they would watch late at night. They'd lean against a wall and take one cigarette each, standing a little too close to one another, Dean's arm around his brother's still so tiny little waist, two fingers dissappearing beneath the belt of his shorts, and Sam leaning his head against Dean's shoulder while he still could, because one more growing spurt and he was going to be the taller one. They're coughing as soon as the smoke hits the back of their mouths, so they learn not to inhale all the way, just keep it in for a few seconds and then huff the stinky smoke out. It's disgusting. The air outside is cold, and they have to move closer to one another to keep warm, rubbing over each other's exposed skin to create some warmth. Thankfully, it doesn't take long for some guy to walk past and figure out what they're selling. They know their price and won't do anything for any less than that. Usually, the guy pays, but sometimes they have to bargain and argue a little bit. It still hasn't happened that they didnt manage to convince their 'customer' that theyre worth it. Not long after, all three of them are in a motel room right across the street, or in a car, or when they are less lucky in the back of an alleyway. Dean and Sam are already making out on the bed by the time the guy joins them, and Dean, more often than not, has to stop everything quite a few times so he could push the man's hands off of his brother, from time to time he even had to remind the guy that he does, in fact, have a knife in his boot and that his hands are already bloody despite still being only a teenager. It's a fair deal - both or nothing - and not allowed to touch Sam. Only Dean gets to touch Sam. It's been like that ever since his bright little brother figured out where the money was coming from and demanded to be there, partly out of jealousy, he didnt want anyone he did not know to touch Dean, and partly because he wanted to make sure his brother came home safe and all in one piece. Dean wasnt a fan of this in the beginning, the whole point of him dling dumb stuff like that was so Sam wouldn'thave to, but he couldnt argue that they had a better chance of meeting someone if there was two of them for the price of one, and Dean also got to be with Sam and not leave him all alone in the room like he hated so much to do. The deal worked. It usually ended with Dean with cum on his back and Sammy's little dick in his mouth, the guy still watching, panting somewhere in the back, possibly even filming, usually talking, telling them what to do, while the brothers paid no attention to him until Sam was done and ready to return the favor to Dean, that part had nothing to do with their customers. That was between Sam and Dean, the few minutes just for themselves that they could pretend were part of the job, but both knew had nothing to do with it. Then they'd get dressed and leave, threat themselves to some beer and head back home, money in Dean's back pocket and bright smiles on their faces that clearly showed that they had no idea what they were doing and the consequences that their actions were going to have on them.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #wincest #samdean #teenchesters #weirdcest

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adrift-in-thyme · 1 day ago

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Febuwhump Day 9: Necromancy (Wild & the Chain)

Read on Ao3

CW for temporary character deaths, blood and injury, and broken bones

———————————————————-

Only a few inches away, the ocarina lies in a cradle of dust and blood. Wild reaches for it. Clawing fingers scrape through scrawny blades of patchy grass. Dirt cakes beneath fingernails torn and bloodied by battle.

Pain thrums through him. A heartbeat. A war drum. An outcry against what has occurred. A warning against what is to come.

Darkness is blotchy at the edges of his vision. It dances. Tantalizing. Agonizing.

He grits his teeth against it.

Come on. Come on, Link. Don’t give in now.

Don’t let them all die.

His fingers bump against Time’s. Cold. Unfeeling. Limp.

The world tilts. His stomach roils. He fumbles sideways, grasps the instrument instead.

Relief is but little. A drop of water after a lifetime in the desert.

Trembling, he lifts the ocarina to his lips.

“With this, Her Majesty sent me to a yesterday where Ganondorf had not yet vanquished the light…”

“I am sorry, champion. But I am no sage.”

Tears are bitter on his tongue. Wild drags in a breath.

“Neither am I, old man. But let’s hope this works anyway, yeah?”

The smile he dredges up is trembling and insubstantial. He ducks his head.

Aching digits find the grooves where they must settle. Softly, he begins to play.

Time has never played this particular song in their presence. Somehow, he knows it nonetheless. Perhaps, because in far off memories he has dreamt of it, felt it dance beneath the care of hands too youthful to carry the burden they bear.

The melody takes flight, fast and fervent. It penetrates the air, hangs heavy within it, even after his fingers have ceased their movements.

Wild raises tear-smeared eyes to the heavens and breathes a prayer that this will work.

For a long moment, the very earth is still. For a long moment, nothing dares make a sound. It is as though his very surroundings fear to awaken the fallen. He grows close to screaming that they do just that.

To stand here once more amongst those whose breath has stilled due to his own failures…it is more than he can take.

“Come on.” It is a whisper, a platitude. “Please. Let me try again. Let me do this right.”

The world pauses a few seconds more. Then, everything shifts.

It happens so fast he cannot truly comprehend it. Colors blur, sounds overlap in their race to be heard, bodies rise from pits of blood, crimson is swallowed by the thirsty ground.

It stops. Something clicks into place. Everthing begins breathe.

The change is like an explosion to his senses. Wild stumbles, choking on air, as Twilight speeds past him with a shout of caution. Warriors and Legend battle a group of lizalfos. Hyrule and Four stab at a large, lunging hand. Wind bats away a swarm of keese as Sky lunges towards…

Wild grits his teeth. Fury replaces shock. Fire replaces cold fear.

The Shadow.

This, this is the moment when everything went so horribly arry. He has mere seconds in which to change it.

But before he can race forward, a hand encases his bicep, and he turns to look up into the glaring eye of Time.

“Champion.” The word itself seems to rend the air. His expression is made all the more severe by the blood that drains from the gash in his cheek, the pallor of multitudinous wounds. “What did you do?”

Of course. Wild curses himself for his stupidity. Of course Time would know. Of course he would question.

A quick glance over his shoulder assures him that time is slipping through his fingers. Any moment now the Shadow’s blade will gleam in the tranquil glow of moon and stars. Any moment now, Sky will meet his doom at the end of it.

“Can’t explain now,” he gasps, wrenching his arm out of Time’s iron grasp. “I’m sorry. Just…trust me, okay?” He looks at him, pleading, sorrowful.

Somewhere, someone chokes on a cry.

You’ve failed. Again, you’ve failed.

Tears burn hot. His throat is too tight for speech, too tight for the breath he so sorely needs.

“Please, old man. I have to make this right.”

There is an odd emotion in the hero’s gaze, something poignant and piercing and sad. Time opens his mouth to speak.

The words never fly free. A blade finds its home in his chest before they can.

Wild presses a hand to his mouth, backs up, unseeing, ringing in his ears. He stumbles over something that he tells himself is a rock, hits the ground in a tangle of limbs. Before he can even think, the ocarina is at his lips again. Before he can process everything that has occurred around him, he is playing the song.

As his surroundings race and stumble and dip, the Shadow watches him from across the clearing.

He is smiling.

Again, Time reaches out for his arm, a question skewering the air. This time, Wild evades him, ducks and runs. This time, he comes closer to making it.

He almost reaches the Shadow. Almost.

As he comes around the back of him for a speedy sneak attack, an emaciated form screeches loud enough to shatter his very soul.

By the time Wild is once again capable of movement, his only remaining option is to lift that instrument of cursed loveliness and play.

Again, the world careens backwards. Again, he tries. Again, he fails. Again, the melody rings out.

Blood fills his mouth, drains from wounds that meld in their desperate plea to be heard. His limbs ache. His head pounds. The taste of bile bites at his tongue.

Time falls back. He stays the same.

Only…the fear within him builds. Like water rising in a locked room, it accumulates, growing more and more suffocating as it does.

Sky cries out in rage and agony, lunges at the one who has killed him countless times before. Time chokes on his own blood and still fights. Wind screams as he is cut down, and Warriors falls in exhausted silence from one wound too many, and Twilight offers him a small smile as he crumples beneath a blade meant for a champion.

Wild watches them all, fighting, falling, rising with missing limbs and arrows sticking grotesquely from chests and backs. He watches them tear at their enemy until they can do so no longer.

He sobs as he plays. He sobs as he struggles. He sobs as reality melds into something far too familiar.

He is standing once more before a monstrosity of violet and crimson. He is holding up a blade that cannot save him, grasping a hand of one he will not protect.

I’m sorry.

How many times has it been now? How many times have they fallen and he cannot save them?

Time doesn’t even have a moment in which to pose his query now. The monsters grow quicker. The seconds combine.

I’m so, so sorry.

Wild runs until his limbs scream, fights until his sword shatters.

The clock ticks down the seconds and he fails to keep up.

He fails…

Perhaps, that is his lot in life.

“Oh, I believe it is,” croons the Shadow. “As entertaining as this has been, I urge you to give up now. Allow death to claim you, little hero. In the vast nothingness, it will not hurt so much.”

“No.” He chokes the word in a voice that hardly sounds like his own.

(How, how had Time managed this as a child? How had he retained his sanity? How had he still held onto hope?)

“I won’t stop. I’m not dead yet.”

The Shadow merely laughs. His mocking cackles are still ringing in his ears as the cycle begins again.

…

He is screaming like a madman when, at last, he gives Sky the advantage. His body has all but given up. It is sheer stubbornness that keeps him upright now. Stubbornness and fury.

At the Shadow. At himself.

The hands that hold the slate aloft are trembling so violently that aiming is nearly impossible. The sound of stasis locking in reverberate through his skull. The shattered remnant of a blade that he raises high above his head is too heavy, too unwieldy. He hurls it with every ounce of paltry strength left within.

It hits its target.

It hits just as Sky brings the Master Sword down.

Black blood spurts in an arc so graceful it aches. A screech rings out so loudly, Wild longs to block his ears against it.

He hits the ground sideways. Something crunches in his shoulder, cracks. He sees stars.

“Curse you!”

The scream is not directed at the wielder of the righteous blade. It is directed at him. Wild raises his head, dizzily meets orbs of deepest scarlett. Blood falls from bared fangs. Sky strikes again and more cascades toward the earth.

“Curse you you abhorrent pest!” The beast staggers forward. The fury held within his eyes is such that Wild half expects to dissolve into ashes on the spot. “I should have slaughtered you when I had the chance! Very well, I will bring you down with me!”

A sword pierces the sky. Swiftly, it careens downwards towards him. Blearily, Wild watches it fall.

“I don’t think so.”

An arrow zips past, pierces one crimson eye. Another follows and another and another, a rain of projectiles from different directions, different bows.

Sky raises his hand to the heavens. The Master Sword sings in opposition to the cacophony of outraged screams. It collides with utter darkness, cleaves through.

The Shadow erupts into a million flecks of obsidian.

Wild can only stare, at first, at the spot where for an eternity he had stood. Then, other voices begin to pierce the ringing in his ears. Worried, questioning voices.

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He gazes into an eye of sharpest, deity-marked blue. He is held captive in its intensity, pinned beneath the knowledge he knows rests in it.

“Here.” With trembling hands, he lifts the ocarina upward. Blood and soot mar the crystalline surface. “This…this belongs to you.”

Time gazes at the instrument for a moment. Then, slowly, he takes it.

“Cub,” he murmurs, and his tone has such emotion in it, such gentleness, Wild cannot even begin to comprehend it all, “what did you do?”

Salt water comes like a wave upon the turbulent sea. It floods his eyes, stings his nose, burns his mouth. Wild squeezes his eyes shut, chokes on it.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m so, s-so sorry.”

The arms that envelope him are steady, strong. He grasps at the shredded threads of a tunic sleeve, buries his face in a chest of unforgiving armor.

“I’m sorry I let you all die.”

“You didn’t.” He feels more than hears the voice. Feels it rumble like thunder against his cheek. “You didn’t allow us to die. You saved us all.”

Something soft wafts about him, something sweet. The exhaustion that tugs at him grows so strong he feels that fighting it is akin to swimming upstream without the aid of Zora armor.

But the others are gathering around now, kneeling, wrapping their arms around he and Time until he is encased in the blessed darkness of safety. And he must remain alert, he must. He cannot bear to lose this that he has strived so hard to regain.

“I am sorry, cub,” Time whispers, amidst the sound of eight hearts beating, eight pairs of lungs filling eight forms with life. “I know how heavy a burden you have borne. You should never have had to carry it.

“But we thank you, nonetheless. We thank you for fighting so that we could live another day. You, Hero of the Wilds, are a true hero.”

A chorus of solemn assents covers him. A cloak in a world of cold. And try as he might, Wild cannot hold back a fresh onslaught of bitter tears.

When, at last, he loses his grip on consciousness, he drifts off in the arms of his brothers. Warm and real and alive.

#febuwhump 2025 #febuwhump day 9 #blood tw #injury tw #temporary character death #broken bones tw #time loop #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wild #lu time #lu chain #trin writes

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cosmmicdancer · 3 days ago

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The people want to know- please share Jean Andrew thoughts 👀👀👀

hello anon, thank u for coming into my inbox and giving me the excuse to share more about my jeandrew au that's been living in my head rent free for the past few weeks

you can read the jeandrew fic i posted for kinkuary here

it got real long so im gonna put it under the cut, hope u enjoy <333

- in this au kevneil get together in college, andrew is their best friend. Jean still leaves the nest and goes to the trojans

- jean and andrew get drafted to the same pro team, neither of them interact much, maybe a nod or half smile after a good play. stays that way until they play kevin amd neils team, who invite them out after the game. kevneil are being argumentative and flirty so jean keeps making sarcastic comments under his breath and andrew doesnt laugh but he does buy jean drinks for the rest of the night

- they start bonding at an away match when neither of them can sleep they don't talk much but there's an understanding

- they're fwb whilst they play for the same team & the mutual understanding of their similar trauma allows them to experiment sexually in a safe environment

- andrew gets drafted away after a couple of seasons, cue both of them pining because turns out they def want to be more than friends

- jean flies out to whichever state andrew ends up at, legit romcom moment, standing in the rain, jean has a bunch of flowers because he is a romantic goddamit

- andrew is fucking obsessed with thia giant stood on his doorstep like a bedraggled cat & hates that he absolutely loves the fact that jean wants to romance him

- cue years of long distance, whilst they play on different teams. when they both retire they move in together, in the same city kevneil are still play. renee and jeremy are also close by. family finally together yayayyaya.

- their favourite date night is going to their local pretentious arthouse cinema then going for ice cream afterwards and shit talking whatever they saw

- jean write andrew poems, which andrew never mentions but keeps in a box in his bedside table

- they both love watching cooking shows, and andrew recreates whatever jean seems most interesting in

- kev and neil get cats and neil is convinced that cats are the source of pure happiness so when jeandrew are still long distance neil shows up on andrews doorstep with a cat hands it over without a word

- he does the same thing to jean

- kevneil love to argue about who clocked jeandrew first but what they don't know is that renee placed a bet on them with jeremy the second andrew started on jeans team

- jean is the only person andrew would ever submit to in the bedroom and jean takes this v seriously

- Andrew drives most of their d/s dynamic, jean only feels comfortable trying things that andrew wants

- jean will eventually ask for things but not until a few years into their retirement

- once they retire they get a dog, and then another one, and then another cat

- all of their pets come from Neil showing up, knowing exactly who can look after a small animal that needs a gentle home

- jeans favourite part of retirement is taking the dogs out on a hike, andrew refuses to go but saves all the photos jean sends him from his walks to a special folder in his phone

#aftg #jean moreau #andrew minyard #jeandrew #swlits au #i have so much more to say #maybe one day ill write this #but im not sure #i love them v much

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the-rollerchloster · 2 years ago

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The number of barn scene gifs and mentions showing up in the notes on this is frankly equal parts disturbing and completely expected.

I know that a lot of wincest shippers and "spn is about the brothers actually" people think that if you hate the finale it's purely because you're a heller who is upset about Dean and Cas not getting to make out, but I'd like to think that the notes on this poll are proving that to be categorically untrue.

I AM a heller, but Cas not being in the finale isn't even in my Top 3 reasons why I hate it so much. The main reason I hate 15x20 is because it completely flushes 15 years of character development down the shitter. You could watch 1x01 and then 15x20 one after the other and feel like you haven't missed anything that happened in between, so what the fuck was the point of the other 325 episodes?

I know that covid-protocols changed the plan, and that the team who were deemed essential enough to create those last two episodes did the best with what they were given. I know that Jensen has been quoted as saying he is proud of the performance he put into these episodes, and that certain people have twisted those comments to think that means he likes it (people misreading Jensen's tone is a whole other post); but I don't for a second think that being proud of something you've achieved automatically means it's good.

I also don't think there was ever going to be a good way to finish a 15-year journey where nothing ever truly stays dead. Death is not and has never been closure on Supernatural, so having it end with "and everybody died" is a fucking cop-out.

Even if Supernatural hadn't taken a 15-year journey through Sam and Dean finding out that "family don't end with blood; but it don't start there either", and it had remained a story that was just about their co-dependent trauma bond from a childhood of being raised by a one-track-minded monster hunter, how on earth was one of them dying bloody a success story? How was the other giving up everything he'd ever known a success story?

Add the complexity of the 325 episodes between 1x01 and 15x20 to the mix, and how on earth anybody can think that Dean still wanted to go out with a bang and Sam still wanted his apple pie life absolutely astonishes me?! As they each enveloped more and more people into their lives and their hearts, their motivations changed, as motivations are wont to do as you age from your 20s to your 40s. These are both multi-dimensional characters with changing hopes, dreams and desires that are shaped by the world around them.

In a story that is about family, fate and faith, the finale completely corrupts all three of those things. The Winchester brothers had their chosen family taken away from them, the manipulator of their fate was removed and left them completely directionless, and their faith was decided for them when they were thrust into a heaven (where their parents are supposedly happy together just down the way) that had been newly designed by their 4-year old foster son.

Throughout the entire series we are continuously told season finale after season finale that "there will be peace when you are done", but the Sam and Dean I know would not have felt at peace in that version of heaven. They would have had questions, and a lot of them, and a hell of a lot more work to do.

Don't forget to check out the other polls! There's a new one every day!

#you don't have to agree with everything i've said #i don't even think it all makes sense #this is the ramblings of a crazy woman #but don't fucking sit there and tell me that finale was perfect just because sam and dean were together #cos that's bullshit and you fucking know it #neither of them would stand for that for a second #and while i'm salty... stop fucking tormenting the actors with that horrendous barn scene #''hey dancing monkey re-enact the worst moment of your character's life for me'' just screams entitled brat #rambling in the post #rambling in the tags #rambling in the everywhere #sorry op #fuck the finale #throw 15x20 into a volcano where it belongs

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veunho · 4 months ago

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I love love love drawing but I cannot draw poses in any circumstances

#anyway the Saint Bernard pmv is still a thing #STILL FIGURING OUT EACH FRAME SO I AIN'T SHARING SHIT BUT #I'm just at the “to remind me that I am a fool” part #which sounds bad bc that's literally the second line BUT. I figured out where all the pictures and posters go #so there's that #I have to draw Tobias in the mirror now as he grows up and I'm. SUFFERING #and then I gotta decide if “tell me where I came from” is a birds view of the town or like. the highway with the sign that says “Welcome to #“how I will always be/just a spoiled little kid” would be like him standing at the bridge and turning into a kid #“who went to catholic school” is the corrupted club (no fucking idea how you call the building in English so. club.)#the beat of silence is a stone falling into the river #“when I am dead I won't join” showing characters at their funeral the“join” beat showing Thea and his brother's family #and then on “their ranks” it shows like. “ghosts” of Thea's family (Thea as a child. Thea's dead brother. and Thea's dad in cuffs)#“cause they're both” side by side Iván and Thea “holy” Thea “and free” Iván #“and I'm in Ohio” Tobías family. his aunt and father. his aunt is staring emptily and his dad looks annoyed/disgusted #“satanic” his father “and chained up” his aunt #“and until the end/that's how it'll be” I have no fucking idea lol #“I said make me love myself/So that I might love you/etcetc” Tobías and Iván stuff Idk #“Saint Calvin told me not to worry about you” Thea's (alive) brother talking to Tobías before he leaves town #“but he's got his own things to deal with” show's her brother's wife and child behind them in the doorway #“there's really just one thing that we have in common/neither of us will be missed” Tobias and thea blabla symbolism #the silent beat after that is two stones in the river #I have no fucking idea what to do at the end tho #modern prophets #CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO TAG THAT

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urfriendlywriter · 1 year ago

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How to write smut ?

(@urfriendlywriter | req by @rbsstuff @yourlocalmerchgirl anyone under the appropriate age, please proceed with caution :') hope this helps guys! )

writing smut depends on each person's writing style but i think there's something so gut-wrenchingly beautiful about smut when it's not very graphic and vivid. like., would this turn on a reader more?

"he kissed her, pulling her body closer to him."

or this?

"His lips felt so familiar it hurt her heart. His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed. She let herself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against her spine. He drew her closer."

(Before proceeding further, these are all "in my opinion" what I think would make it better. Apply parts of the advice you like and neglect the aspects you do not agree with it. Once again I'm not saying you have to follow a certain type of style to write smut! Creative freedom exists for a reason!)

One may like either the top or the bottom one better, but it totally depends on your writing to make it work. Neither is bad, but the second example is more flattering, talking literally. (Here is me an year after writing this post, i think, either is amazing, depending on the context. the type of book you're writing, your writing style and preferences!)

express one's sensory feelings, and the readers will automatically know what's happening.

writing, "her walls clenched against him, her breath hitching with his every thrust" is better than writing, "she was about to cum".

(edit: once again, hi, it's me. Either is amazing depending on ur writing style. Everything at the end is about taste.)

here are some vocabulary you can introduce in your writing:

whimpered, whispered, breathed lightly, stuttered, groaned, grunted, yearned, whined, ached, clenched, coaxed, cried out, heaved, hissed

shivering, shuddering, curling up against one's body, squirming, squirting, touching, teasing, taunting, guiding, kneeling, begging, pining, pinching, grinding,

swallowing, panting, sucking in a sharp breath, thrusting, moving gently, gripped, biting, quivering,

nibbling, tugging, pressing, licking, flicking, sucking, panting, gritting, exhaling in short breaths,

wet kisses, brushing soft kisses across their body (yk where), licking, sucking, teasing, tracing, tickling, bucking hips, forcing one on their knees

holding hips, guiding the one on top, moving aimlessly, mindlessly, sounds they make turn insanely beautiful, sinful to listen to

some adverbs to use: desperately, hurriedly, knowingly, teasingly, tauntingly, aimlessly, shamelessly, breathlessly, passionately, delicately, hungrily

he sighed with pleasure

her skin flushed

he shuddered when her body moved against his

he planted kisses along her jawline

her lips turned red, messy, kissed and flushed.

his hands were on his hair, pulling him.

light touches traveled down his back

words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more

he arched his back, his breath quivering

her legs parted, sinking into the other's body, encircling around their waist.

+ mention the position, how they're being moved around---are they face down, kneeling, or standing, or on top or on bottom--it's really helpful to give a clear picture.

+ use lustful talk, slow seduction, teasing touches, erratic breathing, give the readers all while also giving them nothing. make them yearn but DO NOT PROLONG IT.

sources to refer to for more:

gesture that gets me on my knees !!

(more to comeee, check out my hot or kisses prompts on my master list!)

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thalwri · 1 month ago

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STICKY N' WET

synopsis: your agitating ex tries to disrupt your peace again, but he doesn't realise sylus is around. and neither of you realise that your working together to finally get rid of your ex would bring you much closer.

warnings: heavy smut, dry humping, strip tease, riding, creampies, shower sex, couch sex, petnames (kitten, sweetie, sweetheart), squirting, messy and very wet

wc: 5,6k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“where are you off to, kitten?”

you turned on your heel, seconds away from fuming. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

there had been incessant knocking torturing your door to your apartment. somehow you’ve been letting sylus stay in your place for weeks on end while he occasionally disappeared to the n109 zone for his usual business.

between your tether to him being more intense than usual, and the recent events you’d been going through, you couldn’t tell whether you were grateful for his presence or felt more at peace when he wasn’t around for a brief time.

it had been five minutes. you wouldn’t really think that the knocking was bad but realistically if someone knocked at your door without a break and did it very loudly even without a response, then that would be concerning.

sylus found it irritating in the least, but had the tolerance to ignore it until the relentless fool disappeared on their own. he watched you walk to the door and look into the peep hole. your breath hitched as you stumbled back, covering your mouth with both hands before quickly dropping them to your sides.

“what is it?”

“my ex.” your voice dropped to a monotone line, your body still on the door in front of you. sylus groaned, pinching his brows but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised.

your break up wasn’t revolutionary and chaotic so to speak, but it wasn’t peaceful either. he had been there for you through the process, he didn’t even have to calm you down so he had thought you’d breeze through it and give him more of your attention.

until you started crying.

apparently, the fool had gotten with another woman just weeks after your split and that broke you. so two months following that, sylus had spent his hours of quality time with you helping you recover and move on all while plotting all the crude and illegal things he could do to that insect to avenge you.

he had thought to impale the guy with a fork, or peel off his skin with a carrot peeler, and make a stew out of him so that if anyone investigated, they’d eat the evidence. hannibal style. if he ever told you that, you would most likely be disgusted.

sylus rose to his feet in solemn silence and gently moved you away from the door. “i’ll handle it, kitten.”

“sylus–“

“i’ll handle it.” the depth his voice had lowered to was an instant indication that you could no longer try to interfere. whatever he was about to do, you could only pray it wasn’t going to get him arrested.

you turned away, pinching the corners of your eyes as the door opened for sylus to be greeted by yelling.

“what took you so long to answer– who are you?”

“the owner of this apartment. who in this bereft city are you?” well, being the owner, so to speak, was a lie. technically you owned it– but sylus began to actually live and function there more than you had in the last few months.

just looking at the bastard in person began to irk him. sylus wholeheartedly believed you could do far better than you had but he knew better than to lose his chances of being especially close to you by questioning your judgement. he was not interested in fighting you for your attention for he knew that you truly were drawn to him.

how could you not be attracted to each other especially after all you’ve gone through together?

sylus looked your ex up and down in disgust and scoffed out a laugh. “what are you doing here? this is the last time i’ll ask.”

“where is my girlfriend?” your ex grumbled, attempting to look over sylus’ body by standing on the tips of his toes. you intuitively stepped back before you stopped. would you really let this happen over and over again? being tormented like this?

not again.

“she’s not–“ sylus began to ball his hands into fists as he spoke before you held him to calm him down.

“it’s okay,” you gave him a grateful smile, patting his chest for him to step back. “i told you to stop calling and coming to my apartment.”

“i just wanted to talk–“

“you lost your chance, so do me a favour and screw yourself to another planet before i feed you to the fucking wanderers. we’re over. for a reason. and here’s no turning back from that. so leave.”

“but–“

“out.”

“no, i–“

the sound of a gun– your gun– cocked, you felt a tall figure looming over you oozing murderous energy. sylus aimed the gun directly at your ex’s head.

“you heard my woman,” he snarled, trying his best to hide his prideful smirk. you felt your ears warm. look at you, standing on your own feet against vermin-like that ex of yours. “get out.”

“who do you think you are?” your ex scoffed, sorely attempting to push out his chest to seem confident.

“he is my boyfriend,” you stepped forward, pushing your ex back by pointing your finger at him with each statement you make until he’s out of the doorway. “he is my man, he is what matters to me now, and you are nothing to me. so get out and stay out of my life before i kill you with my bare hands.”

and with that, you slam the door shut, locking the door quickly. you leaned against the door, catching empty air while your heart rate slowed down from the nerves. you heard sylus chuckle and put your gun down.

“that was impressive, sweetie.” you groaned in your hands, intentionally avoiding his gaze. you called him your boyfriend. your man. and he called you his woman. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find that nice to say, but still!

“look at me,” his voice, both soothing and arousing compelled you to listen to him. you removed your hands from your eyes and looked sylus in the eye.

“i suppose you’re satisfied.” you sighed in exhaustion, you felt so drained from talking to that ex of yours. a snack would be doing wonders at this time.

“i’m proud of you,” he smiled– a rarity from sylus but fully appreciated nonetheless. “standing your ground, defending your privacy, referring to me as your man–“

“you’re terrible,” you choked out a laugh, slapping his abdomen.

“i’m divine, kitten, and you know it.”

you weren’t going to deny that. especially after being trapped in his homestead, after getting to know him, along with seeing a great many parts of him. he was an attractive man, that was undeniable.

his wit, intelligence, and sense of control during missions and operations within onychinus and how he spends time with you are all things you’d grown to admire about him. you adored him and felt rather enamoured by the things he does. the things he does to you.

within the last month, you’d seen him in ways that you should have deemed inappropriate. watching exit the shower, water dripping down the lines of his abdomen and disappearing within the towel wrapped around his waist. with his grey lashes holding small droplets above his deliciously terrifying crimson eyes of his.

how his chest always looked larger every time you saw him, or how you’d intentionally bend down with your ass in the air when he was within your proximity. something at the time you thought as harmless. but now you’re standing before him and you felt a new wave of need.

whether it was from what he said or the fact that he was ready to kill for you, you didn’t know. but now you were feeling restless.

“sylus,”

he breathed out your name in response, almost as though he was holding in some pent in energy. you could feel energy swirling in your heart as you watched his eye twitch. the same eye that held his part of the aether core. were you resonating without touching each other?

“thank you,” you began, struggling to find your words. “for earlier.”

“anything for you, sweetie.” he stepped closer to you, making you tilt your neck slightly to meet his gaze. “including covering for your pretty ass whenever your missions went sideways because of that creature of an ex.”

you stifled a laugh through the noise of your aether tethered heart rapidly beating. watching his lips curve, purse, and move as he spoke, watching his eyes kind of lighten just from speaking with you… you just couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“you just can’t seem to take your eyes off me or stop thinking about me, can you kitten?” he smirked, placing his hand beneath your chin. “it would only be fair for me to admit i have had the same sentiment, but for much longer than i’d like to admit.”

“then do something about it,” you brashly whispered, feeling your patience wear thin. this was the closest chance you had at doing something with him without fear. “you’ve got your chance, so use it.”

“oh?” that irritating yet attractive chuckle filled the room other than whatever was playing on the tv. you could just feel your clit tingle from it. “is kitten baring her claws again?”

you gripped the collar of his dress shirt, harshly pulling him close to you– his lips less than a breath away from yours. “this kitten is baring her teeth, and telling sylus she wants him.”

that seemed to be the perfect buzzword. before you knew it, his lips had crashed into yours, his arms wrapped around your torso, and if you weren’t mistaken a short moan had escaped his lips. there was barely a moment for you to absorb the kiss, as you had already begun to peel each other’s clothing off from the jackets to the shirts and eventually the pants.

you pushed sylus onto the couch and straddled him, his hands held the back of your thighs pushing you up more towards him as your lips danced and tugged away in both passion and desire. he dropped you onto his lap, subtly introducing you to the growing bulge beneath you. it felt so big. you gasped as he began to grind against your clothed pussy, his hands reaching for your ass and tits to fondle and squeeze.

“i want you,” sylus whispered, momentarily stopping to lock his crimson eyes on yours in seriousness. “and i have you. do you want us to continue. we’ll stop if you aren’t ready.”

you smiled in gratitude for his concern for you. “i’m ready, sylus. i’m ready for you–” before you could finish your sentence, your lips are locked in a chaste kiss, your groins meeting each other through relentless grinds and your heavy sighs and soft whines competing with the television’s noise.

you wanted to truly show sylus how much you appreciated all that he has done for you in the past month so you slowly pulled yourself away, gently pushing him back when his lips followed and rose to your feet.

“stand up,” sylus rose without question, hiding his curiosity with a ‘hmph’. “take off your underwear.”

he raised an eyebrow, his ruby eyes glistened with excitement. “and what about you, kitten? don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?”

“i want to give you a show,” you tug at the hem of his black briefs, which had a wet spot marked around his erection. the more you looked at the shape of his cock, the more you realised just how big he was. you could feel both your mouth and pussy water at that sight alone.

“i think i’m the one entertaining you right now,” in a swift move, he pulled down his briefs and kicked them aside. his cock bounced free and stood so tall and proud, his tip was reddened and shining with leaky precum leaving a mess on his lower abdomen.

“don’t be shy,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and placing it on his cock. it was so warm and so hard, you couldn’t help yourself from stroking it. sylus closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh as you pumped his cock from the base to the tip stopping to circle your finger lightly over his slit.

“h-ha, kitten, that’s- oh,” you dragged your precum glistened finger down a large vein that travelled to the base then removed your hand. still in a slight daze from your touch, sylus didn’t hear what you said.

“i’m gonna give you a little show,” you boldly repeated, grabbing his face with a hand to give him a chaste kiss, swiping your tongue briefly across his lips before he could react. you stepped back to create some distance between the two of you to give him a bit of a sight to see.

sylus laughed and plopped himself back onto the couch, spreading his legs to give you constant access to his throbbing, twitching, leaky cock. his hand was wrapped around the shaft, slowly stroking it as translucent drops leaked from his tip. seeing him in his nude, blatant glory brought a flood of heat rush over your body and settle in your clit– which was rudely rubbing against the fabric of your underwear.

“don’t get cold feet now, sweetie,” sylus breathed, his chest beginning to heave and sweat. you’d barely gotten to do what you wanted.

“best you be patient.” you scoffed, unclasping your bra, slowly peeling the straps down each shoulder. you turned making your back face him and peeled off your bra and tossed it towards him.

sylus’ hands were long gone from his hard, throbbing cock to catch your bra. he set it on his thigh, resting on the couch arms spread wide intrigued to see what else you had in store for him. “continue, kitten. my patience is wearing thin.”

you slowly turned to face him again, saving your final reveal for much later. you swayed your way back to him and sat on his lap, carefully pressing his cock against his abdomen with your body. his breath hitched at the friction from your underwear rubbing against his sensitive flesh. his warm precum began to soak your panties, but not as much as your pussy was.

you held his cock against you and adjusted your positioning so that you could ride the length of him. going back and forth against him, the raw friction of fabric against sensitive skin sent sylus into a frenzy, gripping the sides of the couch as he watched you basically dry hump him when he should be deep inside you.

“kitten,” he gritted, holding back a guttural groan. you responded with a lascivious moan, almost vibrating from the stimulation from just dry riding his cock. sylus’ hands flew to your hips and lifted you up with just a fraction of his strength. his cock flew back and hit his abs with a soft plap!

“i’m growing impatient,” he lowly whispered, his eyes slowly darkening with desire and arousal. he was in no position to play along with you anymore. he was ready to fuck you good. “so i’m going to ask you again. are you ready for us to continue?”

you ferociously nodded, holding his face in your hands engulfing him in another kiss. you invited his tongue into your mouth to explore and savour you, occasionally greeting it with your own. as you felt yourself sinking into the kiss, you felt your pantie get moved aside before a long finger slid into you. you gasped momentarily before sylus caught your lips again, swallowing your eventual moan as his finger curled inside you.

“answer the question.”

“yes, sylus, i’m ready for you,” you panted. “i’m ready.”

and with that, sylus did not hold back further. his finger pumped into your wet pussy in slow rhythm before pushing a second in. your body trembled at the feeling, tensing as his fingers pumped deeper into you whilst curling to find that special area of yours.

“so wet,” he commented, pecking kisses along your neck. “soaking through your pretty underwear just for me. imagine how much harder i’m getting just from watching you.”

you didn’t even think it was possible for that to happen. a third finger slid in right as you were about to respond, pulling a deep moan out of you. being stretched out like this was not new, but with sylus it gave a more delicious sting.

“don’t squirm, sweetie,” he purred, curving all three digits in you again. “this is necessary if you want my cock to fit in well without hurting you.”

you couldn’t say much other than nod. getting so mindless over his fingers was worrying. what would his cock feel like?

sylus slowly removed his fingers, watching how your slick nectar connected to each one before slowly licking it off one of his fingers whilst locking his eyes on you. such an erotic tease. he rubbed his other– still slick– fingers on your lips, painting them in your wetness. you slowly opened your mouth and leaned your head forward to take his fingers in.

“fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth, watching your tongue clean him up slipping and swirling around him. he just imagined what it would be like to fuck your pretty mouth until you were drooling with his cum.

“me,”

“what?”

“fuck me, sylus.” you gave him a look of determination and need. that was all he had to hear. a loud rriiiiiip snapped you out of your daze, and a light draft fanned at your ass.

“sylus!”

“hmm?” he smiled, pulling off your now shredded underwear from your body.

“that was my favourite set!” you pouted, even though you were heavily attracted to that move from him.

“you know i’ll get you new ones,” sylus scoffed, moving your hips to align your pussy with the tip of his cock. he knew you were on the pill. how? he accompanied you to get them and pestered you whenever you forgot. he adored you but he also cared immensely for your wellbeing.

“i love that you wore that set today,” he grinned looking up at you and pecked your nipples before gently suckling them for a few seconds. “love the red.” he paused, wanting to ask you once more for confirmation.

you nodded before he could ask. “i’m good and ready when you are– o-oh,”

his tip prodded at your entrance and was welcomed with slick warmth sucking him into you. he stopped half way in, slowly breathing to be accustomed to the feeling of your pussy clamping on his cockhead so tightly he almost came on the spot. you had let out a gasp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders with your nails.

“are you alright?” he asked. beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. you nodded. “let’s continue.”

slowly, you sank down onto him swallowing his cock, intentionally squeezing him to watch him squirm and moan from your tightness. you gently laughed, giving away your teasing which sylus quickly caught onto. he scoffed out a laugh and bucked his hips up to yours, ramming the rest of his cock into you with just a bit still outside.

you moaned from the instantaneous move, barely recovering from it when that evil grey haired man began to thrust into you, pulling his cock in and out gradually increasing his pace. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you tried to follow his pace, riding him to meet his hips whenever he thrusted up into you.

“oh fuck, kitten your pussy is so tight,” he moaned, pushing deeper and harder into you. your eyes crossed feeling like he reached a spot you didn’t realise existed. “must have hit your g-spot, hm? oh, baby you feel so good around me”

you could barely respond, overwhelmed by the new wave of pleasure you were receiving. hearing his sexy noises while fucking his cock into you was bringing you faster to your climax than your vibrator ever had. and all so quickly too. but it seemed he was also drawing near to cumming too.

“just– ah, fuck– so tight!” he could barely swallow his whines as your hips meet faster and harder. “that tight pussy’s about to make me cum, kitten. g-gosh fuck me– you see what you do to me?”

rendered speechless, you could only nod. and it only took a few more thorough thrusts before you spasmed all over his cock, throwing your head back as you climaxed. just seconds after, a gush of hot, cum flowed into your pussy, making you so weak in the knees you couldn’t move. sylus fuck his cum into you, moaning your name.

despite that brief finish, you both knew you wanted more.

“again,” his voice rumbled in demand. you rasped your agreement, about to move when an idea came to your mind.

“sylus,”

“mm.”

“let’s go to the shower.”

he looked up at you with a raised brow. “you feel dirty already? kitten, we’ve barely started.”

“no, you crow,” you smacked his large chest in irritation. “i mean, let’s continue in the shower.”

sylus momentarily paused, blankly staring at you. you always wondered what went through his mind when he did that. in that instance, he rose to his feet carrying you while his cock was still lodged in your pussy. not only that, he was still alarmingly hard despite cumming already,

“you didn’t think i’d be done after such a small round, did you?” he grinned. “we’re just getting started.” you didn’t know whether to be afraid or dangerously aroused more than before.

you went through your bedroom to your bathroom, where sylus eventually set you to your feet. his cum began to slowly ooze out of you, travelling down your legs and painting them in the evidence of the mess that would have been made on your couch.

the bathroom began to steam slightly as the water ran. a large hand was held out for you– sylus offering it for you to join him. as you entered, your lips were immediately occupied with his, tied in a dance of need and insatiable greed that only the two of you could soothe for each other.

“you’re so perfect, sylus,” you sighed on his lips. “you’ve always been so great, such an amazing person in my life.” you kissed him again. “just want to show you how grateful i am for you.”

“you already have,” he pecked your cheeks. “just by being in my life.”

your kisses, gradually intensified as you touched each other, stimulating your needs before sylus gently moved you against the glass wall of the shower and picked you up hooking your legs over his shoulders and pressing your weight on the glass to keep you in place.

he gently lowered you back into him, instantly filling you up with his cock again. each time felt like it had gotten thicker. sylus regained proper footing on the wet tiles, slowly thrusting up into you before his pace quickened, going faster and harder until your pretty tits bounced from the sheer force of being fucked against the glass shower wall.

and that wasn’t near how fast he planned to plough your sweet pussy. he had so much more in store for you. so much he’d been waiting to do. control was no longer a word in his vocabulary.

“ooh, just– fuck– just– just like that sy– so good!” you hiccuped, gripping onto his hair with one hand and scratching his nape with the other.

through the fog, you could see your reflection, his back muscles flexing and shining in sweat along with the heat, his light grey hair flattened and drenched sticking to his flushed skin, his lips so tantalisingly close to your ear, huffing out praises and moans all while nibbling at your flesh.

“how are you still so tight, kitten?” he purred, pounding into you like his life depended on it. his hands tightly gripped your thighs indenting marks onto them, another sign of him marking his territory. “gonna fuck you so deep ‘n paint you with my cum.”

thrust after thrust his cock travelled deeper and deeper into you than it had earlier, pounding your weeping cunt so much that the squelches from a mixture your slick wetness and his cum became louder than the sound of your shower. sylus slowly pulled his cock back until his cockhead peeked out then slammed himself back up into you, finding that carnal spot of yours again. your eyes instantly crossed upon the impact, ripping a raw cry from deep within your throat.

“you sound like music,” he groaned, you could feel him smiling against your neck as he licked and suckled multiple rude, disrespectful bruises onto your skin. marking you as his and his alone for all of linkon and the n109 to see. “beautiful melody for just me to hear, sweetie.” he drew back and pulled out of you slowly and thrust clean into you once more before setting you down to the floor.

you wasted no time grabbing his shoulders and pulled him into a lustful, needy kiss, engulfing him in your adoration and enticement. he occasionally nipped your lower lip, groaning at the feeling of your hand creeping down his abdomen to stroke his neglected, twitching cock. it was drenched and leaking with precum again, as if there would never be an end to how much he could stuff you and cover you with it. the warm water pelted your skin, making you hotter and more breathless as the seconds went by.

“i’m going to give you everything you could ever want in this life,” he struggled to say whilst attempting to hold back the noises boiling deep in his chest. “my life, my heart, and my soul is yours, sweetheart.”

within an instant, you found your front pressed against the glass with your hands held behind your back. his lips grazed you ear, whispering his need for you as his warm cock circled your entrance, sliding up and down from the curve of your ass to his tip poking your aching clit.

“sylus,” you shivered, leaning back to rest on him before you lost balance– or even consciousness. you couldn’t tell how long you had been going on for anymore, and frankly you couldn’t care less. the tether between the two of you had wrapped so strongly that you couldn’t spend a second not being on each other.

“yes?” his hand gently tapped your chin so you could turn your face to him. he pecked the corner of your lip and rammed himself back into you without warning, forcing out a loud moan through your lips. those rough, and crude thrusts pounded through your tight, needy cunt, which was squeezing around his girth as much as possible. body pressed against the glass, the reflection of your fucked out face with sylus dazed and so drunk in your pussy made you clench harder.

“fuck, my– fuck,” his hips began to stutter and his cock throbbed in warning. the shower wall began to shake from the continuous impact of your bodies slamming together, clapping and squelching as if you just couldn’t be any closer. “if you squeeze again– oh, kitten, i’m going to fill you to the brim.”

he sunk his teeth deep into your flesh sending jolts of new pleasure down your spine, making you both moaning messes. his hands travelled around your body until his dominant hand settled on your abandoned clit to rub and swirl, and the other attacking your nipples– fondling and pinching them with greed to force out your most animalistic nature. your back arched helping you buck yourself into his hips, wanting to feel so much more of him, even though he had already abused your g-spot so much.

you sobbed and whined, singing praises to sylus for what he was doing to get you so horny for him. “keep fucking me like that, sy- fuck, please!” your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to hold onto him to stop yourself from collapsing. if it wasn’t his cock poking your cervix at this point, it was a sign that you were reaching your limit. “give me– can’t think– give it to me!”

neither of you could think that much, really. with you being so hypnotised and enamoured by his huge cock while he drowned and was drunk in your pussy, there wasn’t much to question. you both had a synonymous goal.

“gonna give it to you, kitten,” sylus seethed while licking your skin in ferocious lust, all he wanted and needed was to feel and taste you so he would do just that.

he felt so good inside your delectable pussy, loved how you tightened around him. he wanted to just cum on the spot, over and over and fuck you in every nook and cranny of your apartment then in each and every one of the properties he owned. he didn’t want to stop until every room you two entered was left smelling of cum and sex. who would he be to not desire such pleasure with someone as beautiful, powerful, and sexy as you?

“look at us, sweetie,” he huffed, momentarily stopping to push his cock as deeply into you as possible, completely bottoming out inside of you until all that would be seen was his balls flush against your pussy. he took long, deep, malicious strokes into you, the glass wall threatening to topple over. “look at yourself while i fuck you good, while i stuff my cock right into you.”

your eyes landed on your reflection but you couldn’t help yourself from watching him reduce you to slutty putty. making you feel like such a needy slut for his cock and his hot, thick cum.

“so pretty,” he moaned, throwing his head back. he could feel his orgasm nearing, his body was beginning to falter. “so definitely mine.”

the perverted reflection of you fucking yourself on his cock while he simultaneously bucked into you had taken you over the edge. your eyes rolled back and your jaws loosened as your body stilled. you let out a hoarse cry as you unfolded, tightly gripping onto him as you became undone, cumming around his cock, your walls squeezing and fluttering around him causing a wave of cum to fill you alongside his thrusts.

you were so full already that his cum leaked out your pussy in spurts, dripping down your legs and hitting the walls. another wave washed over you, and you could feel so much spurting out of you, spraying the wall and dripping down your bodies. you paused, still feeling sylus rutting his cum into you from behind.

you squirted. and he had quickly realised it too, from how his pace quickened again. you had felt his cock grow much harder even though he already came.

“fuck, you made such a mess kitten, wanna make you do it again,” he panted, pinching his eyes shut. “gonna fuck you so good, you squirt over and over.”

you still couldn’t understand how he got so hard so quickly but your pussy wasn’t done being fucked just yet. he quickly pulled himself out, his cock slapping against his abdomen still spurting out thick globs of cum. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder and bottomed out deep into you again, with a whole new angle. you both groaned at the feeling, your pussy being stretched by the curve of his depth, creaming and fluttering on it before he could thoroughly fuck you again.

he didn’t waste another second viciously stimulating your clit with his fingers while his cock aggressively drove into you, slapping your skin against his in a quickened rhythm. it didn’t take much before your poor, soaked cunt squeezed you into another orgasm, creaming a white ring around his base. you screamed, feeling a rush of pleasure force out an intense round of your nectar going everywhere onto your abdomen and his, ultimately making you squirt for the second time tonight.

you felt another gush of cum stuff your pussy as a whimper left sylus’ lips. you couldn’t help but love the fact that he got off just from you squirting. and that got you so much hornier, so needy to do more. but you doubted if your body was capable of handling that. you felt his cock slowly soften as you came down from your highs. he muttered something about wanting to stay inside you a bit longer, and you allowed it, also not wanting to be separated from him being in you just yet. maybe it was the aether cores keeping you attached.

moments passed as you both recovered from your orgasms, resting on each other, whispering praises, and kissed each other in dazed exhaustion. the running water rinsed away most of the cum and slick from your bodies, leaving the rest to be cleaned off once you were both ready.

“that was beautiful,” you murmured as you pulled away from his lips. sylus rested his forehead on yours, still trying to regain his breath. he reached to make the water slightly colder.

“you did so well,” he smiled. “i’m glad i was patient.”

as you began to clean each other up, as exhausted as you were, you felt satisfied. and at peace. sylus was a good ally and companion of yours but from the way things are looking now, you’re more than happy to take things much further.

a/n: I literally started playing lads a few days ago and OMG LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ITS SOO GOOD

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads sylus #sylus qin #lnds sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #qin che #l&ds sylus #lnds #✧.* thalwri works

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moonsgemini · 3 months ago

Text

nobody knows - rafe cameron

summary: a secret relationship between the kook king the sweet innocent kook & bathroom sex

warnings: 18+, cursing, reader being jealous, alcohol, SMUT, slight choking, semi public sex, pinv

an: hiiii hope y’all enjoy <3 this is a lil shorter than my usual stuff. I need drew starkey bad !! Might turn this into it’s own lil universe

This party was going to kill you. The scene in front of you calling for you to do something irrational. It was almost as if he wanted you to accidentally spill wine on Lindsey’s head.

The way her hand constantly found a place on his bicep has you gripping your glass a little tighter. The friendly smile on Rafe’s lips not helping ease your jealousy. Neither was the way he kept leaning down so he could hear her better, as if they were at a rave. It was a fairly small party for crying out loud there was no need for that.

If you had super powers the entire back yard would be lit up in flames with the way you were glaring at the pair. Of course he also wore that shirt you loved on him. The one you had mentioned on multiple occasions that it was your favorite.

You wished you could go over there and yank him down by the collar and smush your lips against his. Let everyone know that it’s your name he’s moaning at night and his lips and body that have your coming undone almost every night.

You wished everyone knew exactly what was going on between the two of you. Then you wouldn’t have to disguise your jealousy as a head ache. You knew it was because of you that the two of you snuck around but you’re starting to want things to change. You couldn’t stand the sight of your man giving another woman attention.

“Garrett is such a dick I can’t believe I didn’t dump him sooner,” Your friend Nessa mumbled.

You hummed and nodded in agreement while finishing off the last of your wine. Not really paying attention to what your friend was saying.

“You’ve been quiet today. More than usual, all good?” Nessa asked.

You nodded, “Yeah just have a head ache again.”

“Then lets get you another glass, being drunk will help with that,” Nessa grabbed your hand. She led you back over to the small cocktail bar that was set up which was right past Rafe and Lindsey.

As the pair of you passed them you pretended not to see Rafe. Obviously Rafe’s eyes followed you, not really paying attention to whatever the girl in front of him had been yapping about.

He was trying this new thing where he wasn’t going to be an asshole to people. Unless they deserved it obviously, but it was really fucking hard when all he wanted to do was talk to you. The old him would have just ditched her mid sentence but that’s not who he wanted to be.

He watched as you poured yourself some more wine, your friend going on about something as you nodded along. His pretty girl always being the best listener.

After a minute you said something to your friend before walking into the house. After a few seconds Rafe said something about going to the bathroom and left the babbling blonde behind. He didn’t care he wanted to find you.

When he stepped inside he saw your half empty wine glass on the kitchen counter. He walked down the hall to the guest bathroom and knocked.

“I’ll be out in a minute Ness!” You shouted from behind the door.

“It’s Rafe,” he said.

The locked clicked and the door opened to reveal your pretty frame. You had chosen to wear that dress he loves in the color he loves on you. He wasn’t the only one who chose what they’re wearing for a specific reason. You poked your head out and looked both ways before tugging him inside by the collar of his shirt. He chuckled at your antics

“Don’t you think it looks more suspicious if we’re in here together?” He smirked with a raised brow. In all honesty he didn’t really give a fuck if people saw you two together but he knows you aren’t ready.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like you were flirting it up out there with Lindsey.”

His smirk widened at the realization that you were jealous. He liked how around everyone you were always sweet and polite, sometimes even a little timid. But with him it was a different story. He loved the way you talked back to him and rolled your eyes at him. He loved the dirty things that sweet innocent mouth said to him when he was relentlessly fucking you.

“You jealous baby?” He stepped forward so the small of your back hit the counter.

Your scowl deepened as you crossed your arms, “No.”

He reach up stroked your cheek gently. His eyes going down to your lips, “You being a tough girl now. Come on baby you know she doesn’t have anything on you.”

Your scowl softened, “Well it doesn’t matter because it’s not like she knows that.”

Rafe leaned forward and kissed your cheek then your jaw and continued his way down to your pulse point, “I’ll let her know, we can let everyone know princess. I can fuck you right here right now.”

You gasped at his words and at the scrape of his teeth on the sensitive skin of your neck, “Rafe,” you practically moaned.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too opposed to that,” His finger slipped under your dresses strap and pulled it down. His lips kissing the newly exposed skin as he went down to your chest, “Make you scream my name as I bend you over.”

You wanted to talk back to him but you couldn’t as your eyes fluttered shut. His hands had moved down your waist and to your thighs. Slowly dragging his fingertips up them until he plucked at your stringy underwear letting it snap back against your skin. He made you such an incoherent mess and you loved it.

With everything in you you mustered back a reply, “You sure you want Lindsey to hear.”

He chuckled against the top of your breasts that were exposed. His fingers now pressing against your wet clothed cunt.

“It seems like you want her to hear baby,” He pressed his fingers against your clit and rubbed soft circles, “look at how wet you are huh. My dirty girl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the sensation. His fingers slipped under your tiny panties and he slid them through your sopping cunt and groaned against your neck, “God I love how you feel.”

You tugged his face up to meet your desperate eyes as you pulled him in for a kiss. You both moaned at the feeling. You loved when Rafe fucked you but you loved kissing him even more. His fingers picked up the pace a little against your throbbing clit. You could feel your wetness dripping down your legs.

“Please let me fuck you right here baby,” He mumbled against your lips, “I’ll do it so good. I’ll make you cum all over my cock.”

That whole being more nice thing Rafe was working on never applied to you. You were probably the only person on the island who had ever heard the kook king say please and thank you. Sometimes he even practically begged to fuck you or eat you out. You lived for it. It made your skin tingle and your tummy flutter.

You nodded your head, “Yes Rafey.”

He pulled his fingers away from you and practically shoved them into your mouth. You loved it though, tasting yourself on his long thick fingers. Your tongue licking them clean. He bit his lip and groaned with hooded eyes. Rafe was utterly obsessed with you.

He pulled his fingers out with a pop and leaned in capturing your mouth in his in another searing kiss. It was sloppy and made your head spin. He pulled away spinning you around. Your hands landed on the counter to steady yourself as he hiked your dress up to your waist.

Rafe gave your ass a firm squeeze and took a few seconds to admire you on this position. He loved that he could still see your pretty face in the mirror, he could see just how fucked you were for him. Your swollen lips, hooded eyes, and messy hair all because of him. It made his heart beat faster and his ego grow. He loves that no one else has known you in this way until he came around.

You watched as he began to undo his pants and pull his thick cock out. You whimpered at the sight of him stroking himself a few times. Grabbing the tiny string of your panties he pulled it to the side before lining himself up with you.

“You’re a fucking dream,” He groaned as he slipped his tip in. The warm wetness of your pussy making him throw his head back. Slowly he slotted himself in you. The feeling of you clenching around him already getting him so close.

“Fuck you’re coming home with me,” He groaned as he began moving in and out.

You nodded with hazy lust filled eyes. You’d do anything he asked of you. The feeling of him stretching you out was out of this world. You didn’t understand how he was always able to hit that spot that had your back arching and mouth forming into an o.

He fucked you as quietly as he could. Rafe didn’t give a fuck if people heard but he knew you did. It’s not like you were embarrassed of Rafe and he knew that. It would just make things complicated if people knew. There’d be constant prying and knit picking at everything you two did and how you acted.

“Oh Rafe,” you mumbled standing up so your back was against his chest. He groaned and wrapped one of his hands around your throat. Your head fell back against his shoulder.

Rafe’s other hand found it’s way to your chest. He pinched one of your nipples and squeezed your breast. He did the same thing to the other one before sliding down your stomach and to your clit. He rubbed circles as he continued to thrust into you.

He moved the hand that was around your throat to hold your jaw. Tugging your head down to look in the mirror.

“You see that baby, He nodded towards your reflection, “see how good you look when I’m inside you. My girl takes me so damn well.”

“I-I mmmph oh Rafe,” you mumbled incoherently but he knew what you were trying to say. He could tell you were close by the way you tightened around him and the way you dripping down him.

“I know,” He groaned, “I’m there too.” A loud moan began escaping you but rafe moved his hand up quickly to cover your mouth.

“Shit look at you, no one will ever compare. Fuck I’m all yours,” He grunted.

Your moans were muffled by his big hand as you came. He wasn’t farm behind as he buried his face in your neck as he came inside you.

“Well we’ve never done that before,” you giggled.

He huffed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure we’ve done that plenty of times before.”

You shook your head, “We’ve never done it in a bathroom at a party.”

He smirked as he pulled out of you and adjusting your clothes for you. He gave your ass a gentle slap, “I should make you jealous more often.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him, “So what if I was jealous.”

He kissed you, “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m yours.”

You smiled softly as your heart swelled, “Rafe maybe we should tell people.”

His eyes widened slightly, “Really?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement, “mhmm I want to go on dates here in town. I want to be the one who has your attention all night and when I get too drunk you drive me home.”

He smiled, “Sounds perfect.”

After fixing yourselves to look presentable again you opened the door and led Rafe out not really thinking. But before you could even step through the doorway you were face to face with Lindsey who had a scowl on her face.

“Finally,” she rolled her eyes but then she saw the person standing behind you, “oh that’s where you disappeared to?” that scowl never leaving her.

Rafe nodded with a smirk, “My girl needed me.”

You blushed as you stepped past her with Rafe’s hand in yours with smiles plastered on both your faces.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fic

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crushmeeren · 6 months ago

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omg but imagine secretly giving the mha boys aphrodisiac chocolate and seeing how they react..

No but you’re RIGHT…. ( ੭ ˙ᗜ˙ )੭

𝛏 Master List Link 𝛏

Katsuki would stare at you with narrowed eyes when you hold your hand out and offer the piece of chocolate to him, your gaze wide and innocent until he pops the candy in his mouth.

Katsuki would be in a meeting not too long after, jaw clenched and teeth creaking when his uniform pants get too fucking snug for no reason. His cheeks will flush bubblegum pink, biting the head off of some hero he can’t remember the name of when asked what’s wrong.

Why the fuck can he only picture you face down and ass up in the air?

Why does he have to sink his nails into his thighs to hang onto his last thread of self control and restrain himself from palming his stiff cock when he thinks of your pussy split open for him?

Why the hell is sweat running down his temples and along his jaw like a goddamn river??

He doesn’t know.

What he is certain of, is his plan to tackle you to the bed as soon as he gets home. To cum the second he slides his achy cock inside your tight pussy, and then to fuck you until neither of you can stand to climax one more time.

Eijirou would happily accept the chocolate, humming in delight once he begins chewing.

Eijirou would then be relaxing with you on the couch, using every ounce of willpower to concentrate on the movie you’re watching together. His cheeks would turn as scarlet as his hair and he’d try to hide his face with the loose strands when you glance at him.

He’d squeak out that’s he’s fine when you ask if he’s feeling feverish. He’ll clumsily cover his cock with large hands, knees knocking into one another when he tries to close his legs.

Eijirou would whimper in your ear “fuck, I’m sorry baby, I need your pussy. I can’t stop myself,” as he gives in to the heat churning in his belly and bends you over the armrest of your couch to fuck you like a dog.

You’ll babble and gasp it’s okay, crying out his name when he makes you orgasm for what feels like the hundredth time — only for his dick to remain hot and full after he’s already cum inside you so much that you’re sure you’re going to get pregnant.

Shouto would take a bit more convincing. He doesn’t ordinarily eat chocolate, but he’s willing to try it if you’re the one presenting it to him.

Shouto would be leisurely walking alongside you in the grocery store, occasionally making noises of agreement as you tell him about your day.

Shouto would suddenly freeze mid stride, becoming rigid in the middle of the aisle. He’ll blink owlish eyes at you several times when you turn back to question what he’s doing.

You’ll snap your fingers to get his attention when he starts to stare at the swell of your tits for way too long instead of listening to you, cheeks filling out with a blush when he meets your gaze.

The next thing you know, your half full grocery cart is abandoned in the aisle and you’re yanked by the wrist back to your car in the parking lot.

Shouto would mutter breathlessly “sorry baby, I can’t seem to control myself,” when he gets your pants off, leaving the material to dangle from one ankle before tugging you down to straddle his lap in the backseat.

He’ll unbutton his pants and shove them down far enough to free himself, not bothering with your panties and sliding them to the side as he sits you down on his cock and let’s out a low moan.

Shouto will match your every move, thrusting upwards harshly each time you sit down. He won’t give a single fuck if someone walks past the car, he just knows he needs your pussy to keep swallowing his cock until the insatiable burn in his lower belly subsides.

It takes…awhile.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou katsuki #todoroki smut #shouto smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki shouto #kirishima ejirou #kirishima eijirou x reader #todoroki shoto smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bakugou katsuki smut #kirishima eijirou smut

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yanderenightmare · 4 months ago

Text

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

“I’m back,” he calls out softly once opening the door.

You’re already there—must have heard him drive up then padded over—standing there, wordlessly awaiting his kiss. You don’t notice it yourself, though he does, how you get up on your tippy-toes and meet him halfway. You’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s really cute. And so he doesn’t say anything on it—doesn’t want to spook the habit.

“Welcome home,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you soft and snugly against his chest—smiling at how you nuzzle into it—yet another cute thing you’ve started doing lately.

“Mh-thank you, sweetheart—feels good,” he coos into your hair, petting it smoothly while you stand there, neither of you pulling away. “What did you do today?”

You sigh and sink further into his embrace, mumbling, “Same as any other day…” almost sulkily. “Just waiting for you.”

He chuckles, “Oh, that’s not true. I saw you watching something—anything fun?”

You hum, hiding your face in his chest, mumbling into it, “Not really… just binging another franchise they decided to ruin...” You shift and look up at him, keeping your chin on his chest while grumbling, “I don’t understand why they’d reboot something just to completely disregard everything it originally stood for—and all the effects just make it look cheap.”

He can’t help but chuckle again, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “You’re such a nerd.” He could eat you up the way you are right now, plated on a silver platter for him all so willingly. “A cute nerd, though.”

You pout, “Honestly, what’s going on out there? I barely understand anything I’m watching anymore—it’s all alien to me.”

His hug on you tightens, but you don’t flinch like you used to—even as the look in his eyes darkens along with his words. “Yeah, the world’s gone mad. You’re better off in here.”

You smile then—agreeing for once. It’s also a new and adorable habit. And then you unzip his jacket for him, helping it off his shoulders and hanging it up for him—all so naturally. Looking back at him while asking, “And how was your day?”

He smiles while beholding you—to think such a question would ever leave your lips all so domestically—it’s enough to make his chest swell. Then with an exaggerated sigh, he whines, “Absolutely horrible without you,” wrapping you up in another hug, this time from behind, nuzzling his chin into the ticklish skin of your neck—making you giggle. Arms around your front, swaying you back against him. “Every second, I was counting down ‘til when I could come home to you.”

“Is that right?” You grin at his gesture—twisting around so that you could look at him straight. Slouched as he stood, all but draping you with his taller form—eyes leveled with yours, half-mast and adoringly admiring you like his most precious thing—his sweet loving girlfriend.

You cup his face in both hands, thinking the same of him—your sweet loving boyfriend. You’re about to kiss him, but then, struck by the thought, there’s a sudden freight in your chest that follows, and you jolt back as if he’d burned you.

He stills, warm expression twisting to one of concern. “Hey—” Stepping after you with his hands laid on your forearms, giving you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” You don’t know, you think. Something’s off. Something’s not right—about his touch, about your heart, about all of it. “I’m just…”

You think about it, eyes skittering over his face—did you always look at his face? Since when did he become so familiar? Since when did you walk around wanting to see it?

“I just…” the words feel all strange in your mouth, but there’s no denying there’s truth in them. “I missed you.”

His features blank at that, blinking at you. “Oh…” Then he softens—smiles with a chuckle, “Well, I’m home now, so…” His head slants, looking at you in askance as he gently brings a hand up to thumb your chin. “What’s with this pouty face?”

You bite your lip. There’s so much noise in your chest—so many conflicting feelings. You’ve begun missing him when he’s gone—when he leaves you. You’ve started wishing for his return, spending your day in wait. Since when did you start doing that?

It’s not right.

“I’m slipping,” your voice is shaken and weak, eyes welling up with thick water enough to have him look blurry—you shake your head and squeeze them shut—making the tears fall quickly. “I’m not supposed to miss you—” you cry. “That’s not right. I’m not—you’re not—”

Not your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, sweetie. It’s okay,” he cuts your sob off with two warm hands placing themselves on your wettened cheeks, holding you tenderly. You layer yours on top of his, feeling it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling into oblivion.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, smearing out your teardrops, making them dry. “It was gonna happen sooner or later, right?”

Your eyes peel and look at him—through the veil. His face is a comfort—though you feel strange seeing it as such, when you know, even though most of you has decided to forget, that he’s a psychotic stalker who’s kidnapped you and held you captive for what must be closing in on a year already.

“Don’t feel bad—it’s only natural,” he assures, pulling you into his chest again—both arms around you snugly with his chin on top of your head, gently rocking you from side to side. “Everything’s fine. So you’re losing your mind a little—we’ll just find something else for you to think about. Right? Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you? More clothes? Sweets? Something fun? Maybe you can take up another hobby?”

He loosens his hold to look down at you—his face warm with devout for you, with a wordless vow saying he’ll do everything, give you anything in return for your happiness.

You love him, you realize then with a shudder.

You’re in love with your crazy captor—your batshit lovesick oversweet captor who shares your bed and treats you like a spoiled pet. And it’s so fucked up—so, so very fucked up, so very fucking fucked up. But it’s true—you’re in love with him. And you have been for a while.

“What do you say?” he asks in hope.

Yet, you can’t say it out loud. No, not yet—it still feels all so wrong. But, at the same time, you don’t think there’s a need for you to put it into words for him. He’s always known you better than you have yourself, after all. And that wholesome smile on his face says it all—he already knows.

“No… I just,” you start, staring into his eyes—those full-loving eyes that look at you as if you’re the only thing of value in the whole entire world. “I just want…” It’s a scary confession—both admitting it to yourself and him. “You.”

You look down, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth and nothing but the truth—albeit a somewhat sad truth. It’s your one wish—your only wish. You just want him—to stay, to hold you, to kiss you. You can’t even think of wanting anything else anymore.

“Oh, well, that’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, stroking your cheeks, fishing for your shy gaze—smiling once hooking it—pretty teary puppy eyes, lost and looking for directions.

Don’t worry—he’s here to help.

“Where do you want me then, sweetheart?” His lips near your forehead. “Here?” He gives it a chaste kiss, earning your sniffle, then ducks down to your neck. “Or here, maybe?” Giving that a kiss as well, this time with more behind it, sucking the skin with a soft bite.

“Or maybe…” His voice is low, and it makes your skin buzz with a desire just as dark—shivering with it as his lips ghost yours. “Here?”

You hang in his hold, leaning after it.

But he just smiles, “Tell me, sweetheart—where do you want me?”

Your lip wobbles, brows cinched as your balled fists needily pull him close—yearning for it.

“Everywhere.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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