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goldfades · 3 months ago

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I DON'T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND───JOE BURROW

request: Can you write a joe burrow one shot about so high school 🥰🥰 Or if you’ve already done that, then the song dress

ev's notes: this was supposed to be a blurb. keyword: supposed to. i got a bit carried away, but how can you not when it comes to taylor? also, we all love LSU joe

The first time you saw Joe Burrow, he was standing on the edge of a practice field, helmet in hand, a picture of quiet confidence. His buzzcut was sharp enough to catch the late Louisiana sun, and you remember thinking he looked like the kind of guy who had his entire life planned out. It was almost intimidating how effortless he made everything seem—throwing perfect spirals, cracking jokes in the locker room, balancing the weight of a team on his shoulders. But then, somehow, you found yourself next to him during a random group project in Sports Management 201, and everything changed.

You didn’t become best friends overnight. Joe wasn’t exactly the “overshare everything in one go” type, and you, well, you had walls of your own. But there was an ease between you, the kind that turned study sessions into late-night deep dives about life and childhood and everything in between. By the time sophomore year rolled around, you were inseparable. You’d sit on the floor of his apartment during game weekends, surrounded by a haze of pizza boxes and team gear, and think, This is it. This is my person.

But somewhere along the way, the easy edges of your friendship began to blur. Maybe it was the way Joe looked at you during one of those low-stakes nights, his gaze lingering just a little too long. Or maybe it was the time you patched him up after a particularly brutal hit on the field—his voice low and rough as he muttered, “What would I do without you?” Either way, the shift was small but seismic, like an earthquake rumbling beneath your feet before you even realized it was happening.

You couldn’t pinpoint when you started noticing the details. The golden flecks in his otherwise blue eyes, the way his laugh hitched just slightly when he found something truly funny, or the way his voice softened when he said your name. You tried to ignore it at first, chalking it up to some misplaced admiration for your best friend, but the feelings were stubborn, refusing to be tucked away neatly. They buzzed under your skin, electric and impossible to ignore, leaving you breathless whenever he was near.

And then there was the dress. A stupid, impulsive decision born out of frustration and hope, hanging in your closet like a secret you weren’t ready to admit. You’d told yourself you bought it because you deserved something new, something fun. But deep down, you knew the truth.

You weren’t supposed to want him like this. You were supposed to be his confidante, his teammate, his best friend. But every lingering glance, every accidental brush of hands, every inside joke that felt too personal—it all built up, layering itself into something you couldn’t unravel even if you tried. And now, sitting in the dim glow of your shared favorite bar, watching him laugh at something trivial, you wonder if he feels it too.

If he notices the way you can’t quite meet his eyes for too long. If he knows that every smile he sends your way makes your chest tighten. If he realizes that every secret moment you’ve shared has carved itself into your memory like a golden tattoo you’ll never erase.

You don’t want him like a best friend. Not anymore.

The bass from the speakers thrums through the walls of the house, rattling the beer bottles on every flat surface. The air smells like spilled alcohol, cheap cologne, and too many bodies crammed into one space. It's chaos, but the best kind, the kind you’ve come to associate with game days at LSU—sweaty, celebratory, and electric. Tonight, the Tigers pulled off a win that had everyone on their feet, screaming until their voices cracked, and the party is nothing short of a victory lap.

You’re deep in a circle of friends, the buzz of alcohol warming your veins and making you laugh harder than you have in weeks. The strain of classes, late nights, and endless football schedules has melted away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself relax. Someone hands you a drink—something neon and probably terrible—but you take it anyway, raising it in a toast to nothing and everything. It feels good to let loose, to drown out the noise in your head with the noise of the crowd.

And then you see him.

Joe is across the room, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like he owns the place. His LSU cap is turned backward, and his smile is as easy and devastating as ever. You can tell he’s in his element, surrounded by teammates and admirers, his laugh cutting through the din of the party. You feel it in your chest like a physical thing, a pull you’ve never been able to explain but have stopped trying to fight.

But it’s not just Joe that catches your attention. It’s the girl next to him.

She’s gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that turns heads and stops conversations. She’s leaning in close, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his arm, saying something that makes him laugh. Not just any laugh—the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the kind you thought was reserved for the two of you. Your stomach twists, sharp and sudden, like you’ve just swallowed something bitter.

You try to look away, to focus on anything else—the half-empty drinks in front of you, the sticky floor beneath your shoes, the laughter of your friends—but your gaze keeps drifting back, helplessly tethered to the sight of them. She’s laughing now, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and Joe’s watching her like she’s the only person in the room.

The nausea hits you like a wave. It’s not subtle, not something you can breathe through and ignore. It rises quickly, making your throat tighten and your head spin. You set your drink down on the nearest surface, ignoring the shouts of your friends as you mumble something about needing a break.

The hallway to the bathroom feels like a mile long, each step heavy and unsteady. The crowd thins as you move away from the main party, the noise dulling to a low hum. You push open the bathroom door and lock it behind you, gripping the sink to steady yourself. The fluorescent light overhead is harsh, making everything feel too bright, too real.

You glance up at the mirror, and there it is: the blue dress.

You bought it on a whim, a little too expensive for your budget but too perfect to leave behind. Joe had told you once, in passing, that blue was your color. It had been a throwaway comment, something he probably didn’t even remember, but it had stuck with you. When you saw the dress, you thought of him, of the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, of the way he said your name like it was something special. You’d wanted to impress him, to feel like you could belong in the world he so effortlessly ruled.

Now, staring at your reflection, the dress feels like a cruel joke. The silky fabric clings to you in all the right places, the color vibrant against your skin, but it doesn’t matter. Not when Joe is out there, smiling at someone else like she’s the only thing that matters.

Your hands grip the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white. The nausea is still there, but now it’s tangled with something else—anger, humiliation, heartbreak. It’s overwhelming, and for a moment, you think you might actually cry. But you don’t. You can’t. Not here, not now.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stand up straighter. The dress still looks good, you think, even if it feels tainted now. You smooth the fabric down with trembling hands, telling yourself that it doesn’t matter, that Joe doesn’t matter. But deep down, you know it’s a lie.

He’s always mattered.

You take another deep breath, the kind that feels like it’s dragging through every nerve in your body, and push yourself away from the sink. The girl in the mirror stares back at you, her lips pressed into a determined line, her eyes just a little glassy. Maybe from the drink. Maybe not. Either way, you’re done hiding in this bathroom like a cliché in some bad movie.

Joe can talk to whoever he wants. He’s not yours. He never has been. But you? You’re not going to let one moment ruin your night. Not when the music is still pumping, your friends are still laughing, and—let’s be honest—you’re in a frat house. There are plenty of boys here who would love to talk to a girl like you, especially in this dress.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, small but defiant, as you fix your hair and smooth your dress one last time. If Joe wants to waste his night with someone else, fine. You have no shortage of options.

The noise of the party hits you the moment you step back into the hallway, a tidal wave of music and laughter and the unmistakable sound of someone shouting “chug, chug, chug!” You weave your way through the crowd, ignoring the tightness in your chest when you pass the kitchen and see him still standing there, leaning closer to that girl. Instead, you head straight for the living room, where the crowd is thick, the lights are dim, and the music feels like it’s coming from inside your chest.

You position yourself near the edge of the dance floor, close enough to seem approachable but not so close that you’re desperate. It doesn’t take long. It never does at a frat party, especially when you’re wearing a dress like this one.

The first guy approaches within minutes. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and definitely a little drunk. His grin is lopsided as he leans in, yelling over the music. “Hey! You’re way too cute to be standing here by yourself. What’s your name?”

You force a smile, polite but not overly enthusiastic. “Thanks. I’m just waiting for my friends.”

He doesn’t take the hint. “Well, they’re not here right now, are they?” He takes a step closer, the smell of beer and sweat rolling off him in waves. “Lucky me.”

You laugh awkwardly, trying to keep some space between you. He’s not bad-looking, you’ll give him that, but there’s something about the way his eyes linger on you that makes your skin crawl. It’s like he’s not looking at you, but at the dress, the shape of your body, the idea of what you might let him get away with. It’s unsettling, and the longer he talks, the more you want to disappear.

“So,” he says, leaning in even closer, “you here with anyone? Or are you single tonight?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. Normally, you’d have brushed this guy off by now, forced a polite smile and ducked away before things got too awkward. But tonight isn’t normal. Tonight, you’re wearing this stupid blue dress for a boy who doesn’t even notice you’re alive, who’s too busy laughing with someone else to care that you’re here, trying not to drown in your feelings. And maybe it’s the alcohol humming in your veins, or maybe it’s the weight of everything pressing down on your chest, but you don’t brush him off.

Instead, you tilt your head and smile, the kind of smile you’ve never given to anyone but Joe. “Single.”

His grin widens, and he takes another step closer, his hand finding your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It feels wrong and right all at once—wrong because he’s not Joe, but right because at least someone is looking at you like you matter. His voice is low, almost a murmur now. “Lucky me.”

You laugh, a sound that feels foreign to your own ears, and let him guide you further into the crowd, where the music is loud enough to drown out your thoughts. His hands are confident but not pushy, and when he leans down, his lips brushing against yours, you don’t stop him.

You kiss him back. At first, it’s awkward, more about the motion than any real feeling, but as the seconds pass, you give in, letting the alcohol and the haze of the moment carry you. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you closer, and you let him. You let him because it’s easier than admitting that the only person you really want to be kissing doesn’t want you back.

You’re not sure how long it lasts—minutes, maybe hours—but the world blurs into a mess of noise and heat, and you lose yourself in it. You don’t notice the weight of another gaze until it’s too late.

“[Your Name].”

Your name isn’t loud, but it cuts through everything like a knife. The music, the chatter, the blood pounding in your ears—all of it fades the second you hear his voice. Joe’s voice.

You pull back from the guy, your head spinning as you turn to find Joe standing a few feet away. His cap is gone now, his hair slightly mussed, and his expression is unreadable. But his eyes—those blue eyes you’ve memorized in a thousand different shades—are filled with something you can only describe as hurt. It hits you like a punch to the gut.

“Joe,” you manage, your voice shaky, but he doesn’t respond right away. He just looks at you, his jaw tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

You barely hear him. Your focus is locked on Joe, on the way his shoulders tense and his gaze flickers between you and the guy. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but razor-sharp, like he’s trying to keep something dangerous from slipping out. “Didn’t realize you were… busy.”

The guy behind you shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Uh, I didn’t—”

“She’s drunk,” Joe cuts him off, his tone flat but laced with something that feels too heavy, too sharp to be just irritation. His eyes don’t leave yours, even as he continues, his jaw tight. “You know that, right?”

The words hit you like a slap, and your stomach twists in both anger and embarrassment. You straighten up, the haze of alcohol doing little to dull the heat that creeps up your neck. “Joe, I’m fine. Don’t—”

“No, you’re not,” he snaps, his attention finally shifting to the guy, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. “Get lost.”

“Hey, man, I didn’t mean any harm,” the guy says, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “She seemed into it.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not,” Joe bites back, taking a step forward. There’s a warning in his voice, low and simmering, and the guy takes the hint, backing away with a muttered excuse before disappearing into the crowd.

You whip around to face Joe, your chest heaving. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” His laugh is bitter, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. “What are you even doing, [Your Name]? You’re drunk. And you’re letting some random guy—”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you interrupt, your voice rising to match his. The heat in your face isn’t just from the alcohol anymore; it’s from the way he’s looking at you, like you’re some reckless child who needs saving. “I’m not a kid, Joe. I don’t need you to swoop in and play hero.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out what to do next. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter but no less intense. “You don’t see it, do you? The way guys like that look at you. They don’t care about you, [Your Name]. They just see an easy target.”

You flinch at his words, the sting of them sharper than you expect. “You don’t get to decide what I do or who I talk to, Joe. You don’t own me.”

“Damn it, I’m trying to protect you!” His voice cracks slightly, the frustration and something else—something softer, almost desperate—breaking through. “Do you have any idea how bad this could’ve gone? What if I hadn’t been here?”

“I didn’t ask you to save me!” Your voice is shaking now, the emotion bubbling up faster than you can contain it. “You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is acting like you know better than I do.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the weight of the argument hanging heavy between you. Around you, the party continues, oblivious to the storm brewing in this corner of the room.

Joe runs a hand through his hair, his expression shifting into something you can’t quite read. Hurt? Anger? Both? “You don’t get it,” he says finally, his voice low. “You never get it.”

“Then explain it to me,” you shoot back, your own voice raw now. “Because all I see is you barging in and making me feel like some helpless idiot.”

His jaw clenches, his hands flexing like he’s holding back something volcanic. When he finally moves, it’s not to storm off—it’s to step closer, his hand wrapping around your arm with just enough pressure to make you pause, though not enough to hurt. His grip is warm and steady, grounding in a way that feels infuriating right now.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice low but firm. There’s no anger in it, no edge, just a quiet certainty that only makes you bristle more. “You’ve had enough for tonight.”

You yank your arm back, but his hold doesn’t falter. “I’m fine, Joe,” you snap, your voice sharp and defensive. The alcohol in your veins has burned away just enough to leave you teetering on the edge of indignation. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes meeting yours with a calm intensity that only fuels your frustration. “Let me go,” you demand, your voice rising. “Seriously, Joe. You can’t just decide—”

“You’re drunk,” he cuts in quietly, his tone unshakable, almost maddeningly patient. “And this isn’t you.”

Your stomach twists, the words hitting a nerve you didn’t realize was exposed. “Oh, so now you’re the expert on me?” you fire back, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away again. “You don’t get to tell me who I am or what I can do. I’m not some little kid you need to take care of!”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t yell, doesn’t even argue. He just lets you rail against him, his expression remaining infuriatingly steady as he starts guiding you through the crowd, his hand never leaving your arm. You’re too angry to notice the way people glance your way, their conversations pausing as they watch Joe Burrow, the golden boy of LSU, calmly escort you out of the frat house like it’s a routine play he’s run a hundred times before.

“Joe, let me go!” you yell again, louder this time, but your voice bounces off the walls of the crowded room and fades into the noise of the party. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

By the time you’re outside, the cool night air hits you like a slap, the contrast between the crisp breeze and the stuffy warmth of the party jarring enough to momentarily stall your protests. Joe finally lets go of your arm but stands in front of you, his broad frame blocking the house and everyone in it from view.

You glare at him, crossing your arms as you try to steady your breathing. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” he echoes, his voice still calm, though there’s a hint of something sharper underneath. “My problem is watching you let some random guy take advantage of you because you’ve had too much to drink. My problem is knowing you’re going to regret this in the morning.”

“And you think dragging me out of there like I’m some damsel in distress is going to fix that?” you snap, your chest heaving with the force of your words. “You don’t get to control me, Joe!”

“I’m not trying to control you,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demand, throwing your hands up. “From having fun? From making my own choices?”

“From getting hurt,” he says, and the words are so soft, so raw, that they stop you in your tracks. For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, the anger in your chest giving way to something heavier, something harder to ignore.

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time tonight, you see the cracks in his calm façade. There’s something unsteady in the way he’s looking at you, like he’s balancing on a knife’s edge, trying not to fall. “I care about you, okay? More than I probably should. So yeah, maybe I overstepped, but I’m not going to stand there and watch you make decisions that aren’t you, not when I know you’re going to hate yourself for it tomorrow.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy and unrelenting. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Because for all your anger, all your frustration, there’s a part of you that knows he’s right. And it terrifies you.

Joe takes a step back, running a hand through his hair as he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to steady himself. “If you want to go back in there, I won’t stop you. But I had to try.”

He turns to leave, his shoulders tense, and for the first time tonight, you feel the weight of everything crashing down all at once.

You watch him for a second, the silence stretching between you, thick and tangled with everything unsaid. The words you want to say sit at the back of your throat, but they won’t come. Instead, you take a deep breath, the cold air doing little to cool the fire in your chest, and you follow him.

Joe’s footsteps are steady and purposeful, like he’s not even thinking about the fact that you’re trailing behind him, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to be mad at him anymore. Your anger dissipates in the quiet of the night, swallowed up by the calm that surrounds you both. The sounds of the party fade away as you walk down the street toward your apartment, the rhythmic tap of your heels on the sidewalk oddly soothing.

You keep your gaze fixed ahead, not meeting his eyes. For once, the noise in your head is quieter than the pounding of your heart, but still, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that something's missing.

You finally glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His face is shadowed in the streetlights, but you can still make out the tight line of his jaw, the furrow in his brow. He doesn’t look at you, his focus trained straight ahead, and for some reason, it makes your chest ache.

Neither of you speaks, the tension between you thick but not unbearable. It’s the kind of silence that feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to shift, for someone to break. But you don’t. Not yet.

By the time you reach your apartment door, the quiet feels heavier than the air itself. You fumble with your keys for a moment, your fingers trembling just enough to make it harder than usual to find the right one.

"Here," Joe says, his voice low, and you glance up just in time to see him stepping forward, his hand brushing against yours as he takes the keys from you. He unlocks the door in a smooth motion, and before you can even think to thank him, he speaks again.

“I—”

“You looked good tonight,” he says, cutting you off softly. His voice is steady, but there’s something in it that makes your stomach flip, an edge of vulnerability you weren’t expecting. His eyes meet yours then, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “The dress. I liked it.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and it feels like the ground beneath you shifts, like the world tilts on its axis and sets you spinning. You stare at him, your heart beating too fast, and then—without warning—you’re smiling.

It’s not forced or awkward. It’s real, stretching across your face in a way that makes the weight in your chest lift just a little. And then he’s smiling too, that familiar grin that’s been burned into your memory for years, and suddenly, everything feels lighter.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice quieter now, softer. You glance down at the fabric of your dress, smoothing it out as if to steady yourself. “I wasn’t sure if it was my color.”

“It is,” he says, and there’s no hesitation in his voice, just certainty. “Blue suits you.”

You blink, staring at him, at the way he’s looking at you now—open, earnest, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Something in his eyes shifts, like he’s trying to gauge whether you’ll believe him, whether you’ll understand the weight behind those words. And you do.

A smile spreads across your face before you can even stop it. It’s like all the pieces of this night fall into place, clicking together, and for the first time in hours, you feel lighter. The alcohol fades to a dull buzz in the back of your mind, replaced by a warmth that starts in your chest and spreads outward, filling you up from the inside.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you even think about them. You’re not even sure who you’re trying to convince. Maybe him. Maybe yourself.

He smiles back, that familiar, crooked grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. And just like that, you know.

The tension between you two, the hurt, the anger—it’s all still there, but it’s fading, slipping away with each breath you take, with each passing moment. The connection you’ve both been avoiding is right there, in the space between you, unspoken but understood.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you step forward. The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop them.

“Do you want to come in?”

For a second, he doesn’t answer. He just looks at you, his expression unreadable, like he’s trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not. But then the smile returns, a little softer, a little more vulnerable this time, and he steps closer, his hand brushing against yours again.

“I’d like that.”

You step aside, holding the door open for him, and as he crosses the threshold into your apartment, the world outside fades away. The weight of the night, the tension, the unspoken feelings—it all starts to fall away as you close the door behind him, the sound of it locking making everything feel a little more real.

And for the first time tonight, you feel like you might actually be able to breathe again.

Inside, the apartment feels cozy, a stark contrast to the cold night air outside. You toss your keys onto the counter, the clink of metal breaking the comfortable silence as Joe surveys the familiar space. He’s been here more times than you can count, so much that it’s almost like he lives here—except he doesn’t. He’s always just passing through, leaving behind traces of himself that linger far longer than he does.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says casually, already heading toward the bathroom like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is.

“Sure,” you reply, watching as he grabs a towel from the hall closet without missing a beat. “You know where everything is.”

He shoots you a grin over his shoulder. “Hard not to when half of it used to be mine.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips out before you can stop it. The tension from earlier feels miles away, replaced by an easy warmth that only Joe seems to bring. You head to the couch, plopping down and grabbing the remote while he disappears into the bathroom. The sound of water running fills the quiet, and you let yourself sink into the cushions, your body finally relaxing.

When Joe reappears twenty minutes later, his hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, he’s wearing a pair of sweats and an old LSU hoodie you distinctly remember stealing from him months ago. The sight of him makes your stomach flip, but you push the feeling down, focusing on the TV as he flops onto the couch beside you.

He stretches out, his long legs taking up most of the space, and gestures at his hoodie with a mock-serious expression. “You know, you could at least ask before raiding my closet.”

You glance at him, feigning innocence. “What can I say? Your clothes are comfortable. And they look better on me.”

He snorts, leaning back with a grin that’s all teasing charm. “Debatable.”

“Not even a little bit,” you counter, smirking. The playful banter feels so normal, so easy, that you almost forget the storm that brewed between you earlier.

Almost.

After a while, the two of you migrate to your bed, the comforter a welcoming cocoon as you prop up pillows and settle in with The Office playing softly in the background. Joe’s on one side, you’re on the other, the space between you wide enough to be friendly but not awkward. It feels... safe. Like every other time you’ve done this.

But tonight, something lingers in the air, something unspoken that buzzes just beneath the surface. You try to ignore it, to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of Jim and Pam’s back-and-forth, but you can feel Joe shifting beside you, his presence impossible to ignore.

It’s almost halfway through an episode when he speaks, his voice cutting through the soft glow of the TV. “You know…” he starts, his tone so casual it catches you off guard. “It’s funny how everyone thinks we’re just friends.”

You turn to look at him, your brows knitting together. “Uh… because we are just friends?”

He shrugs, his eyes still fixed on the screen, his expression maddeningly nonchalant. “Sure, but like… doesn’t it ever feel like more than that sometimes? Like, not in a weird way, but…” He trails off, his lips curving into a small, almost amused smile. “I don’t know. Just thinking out loud.”

Your heart stutters, your breath catching as his words sink in. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the way his arm brushes against yours, the warmth radiating from his body, the way his voice dips just enough to make you second-guess everything. But Joe doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, he looks like he’s just commented on the weather, like this vague, half-confession isn’t turning your entire world upside down.

“Joe…” You hesitate, unsure of what to say or how to even process what he just implied.

He finally looks at you, his gaze steady but soft, like he’s daring you to call him out. “What? I’m just saying. It’s not that crazy of an idea, is it?”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You’re torn between laughing at how absurdly casual he’s being and screaming at him for dropping this bombshell like it’s nothing. Instead, you settle for staring at him, your mind racing as the silence stretches on.

And then, as if to hammer the final nail in your coffin, he adds, “I mean, you do look really good in that dress. I wasn’t lying about that.”

It feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, and you’re not entirely sure if the warmth spreading through your chest is panic or something else entirely.

Joe doesn’t push. He just leans back against the pillows, his gaze flicking back to the TV like he didn’t just casually crack open the door to feelings you’ve spent way too long pretending don’t exist. But the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

And for the first time, you’re not sure if you want to close that door or walk straight through it.

Your brain short-circuits. There’s no other way to describe it. You sit there, staring at him, your mouth opening and closing like you’re a fish out of water, but no words come out. None. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your thoughts racing too fast for you to grab hold of even one.

Joe waits, his expression unreadable. His eyes flick to yours, searching, like he’s waiting for some kind of confirmation—or maybe a rejection. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours, and the weight of the moment settles heavily between you.

You want to say something, anything, but your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth, and all you can do is sit there like an idiot while your heart threatens to burst out of your chest.

And then, Joe decides he’s done waiting.

Without warning, he leans in, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face as his lips press softly against yours. It’s gentle, tentative, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. You can’t. The moment his mouth touches yours, it’s like the world stops spinning.

When he pulls back, his gaze locks on yours, his thumb brushing against your cheek. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it, and his voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

It takes a second for his words to register, but when they do, they snap you out of your daze. “I’m impossible?” you manage to croak, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just—”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I did.”

You blink at him, still trying to process what just happened. But then the realization hits you like a freight train, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “I feel the same way.”

Joe’s smirk widens into a full-blown grin, and he leans back, his hand dropping to rest casually on your knee. “Took you long enough to say it,” he teases, his tone light but undeniably smug. “Thought I was gonna have to spell it out for you.”

Your cheeks burn, and you swat at his arm, unable to stop the small laugh that escapes you. “Oh, shut up.”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hoodie smells like fresh laundry and something distinctly Joe, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, your head resting against his chest.

For a while, neither of you say anything. The TV continues playing in the background, the familiar sounds of The Office filling the room, but neither of you are paying attention anymore. Joe’s fingers trace absent patterns on your arm, and every now and then, you catch him glancing down at you with a soft smile that makes your heart flutter all over again.

It’s quiet, easy, comfortable, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. And maybe, just maybe, it is.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nfl fic #nfl football #nfl lb #nfl imagine #joe burrow #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fan fic #joeyb #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x oc

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puckinghischier · 4 months ago

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so the clip of quinn asking the producer if his hair looks good, we’ve all seen it, right? cause i’m just thinking about it and how yeah it was probably a joke, but it’s sooooo insecure!quinn coded. like i’m sure he was nervous, and he really did want to look good for the camera. and it’s got me thinking about what it would be like to comfort insecure!quinn (i didn’t mean for this to be this long but i couldn’t stop once i started so here’s basically a three in one blurb 🫣)

it’s even things as simple as his pre-game outfits. he’s seen all the comments online about how he only wears the same few suits, so one day while you’re on the couch watching tv, he turns to you and asks if you’ll go shopping with him. of course you agree, but you ask him what’s got him so eager to expand his wardrobe.

“just…people keep saying i’m wearing the same thing all the time and it has me thinking i should probably go buy a couple more suits to wear for arrival pictures and stuff,” he shrugs, almost whispering, telling you it’s something he’s slightly embarrassed about.

you reach over and run your hand through his hair, playing with the messy curls. “q, who cares if you wear the same suit every game day? you’re wearing it to walk in the building and out of it,” you speak softly to him, noticing he’s not meeting your eye. “but, if you want to go pick up a few more, i’d love to go with you and help you pick them out,” you tug lightly on his hair to get him to look over at you, bringing your hand down to toy with the tip of his ear.

he gives you a bashful smile, mumbling out a small “thanks,” before looking away again.

you lean over, replacing your hand on his ear with your mouth. “plus, you know how much i love looking at you in a suit,” you let your lips drag over the warm skin. “almost as much as i love looking at you without one on.”

quinn shudders at the feeling of your hot breath on his ear, making him forget what he was even thinking about before the current conversation.

of course, quinn’s constantly worried about being a good captain for his team, too. he doesn’t think he’s played long enough to earn it yet, not understanding why they picked him over some of the vets on the team.

so when he comes home after a particularly rough practice or a brutal loss, you can feel the insecurity radiating off of his body. the game that eliminated them from the playoffs, though? god, you never want to relive it.

he laid in your arms for hours, switching between crying and getting angry at himself. he kept telling you it was his fault. he was the reason they didn’t make it. they should’ve chosen a different person to be captain, not him. he clearly didn’t know what he was doing, or they’d be celebrating tonight instead.

you know that most of this is caused by the questions he was asked after the game. one reporter in particular always asking the worst questions and getting under his skin. but you’re sure the group of drunk, upset fans outside of the rink who were yelling discouraging things to him only drove the knife deeper.

the way he talked about himself with so much disgust broke your heart in a way you never knew was possible. you knew he was always hardest on himself, but the fact he truly believes these things makes you worry you haven’t been doing your job correctly.

“quinn, i don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, do you hear me?” you sat up, talking sternly but not harshly.

“well, it’s true. if they would’ve just picked someone else then-“

“stop!” you interrupted him, your sudden loudness causing him to pause, looking at you with wide eyes. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to yell at you, but i’m not going to sit here and listen to you do this to yourself any longer,” you put just a few inches of distance between you and him on the large couch.

“you’re exactly who they wanted to lead this team or they wouldn’t have chosen you. you do have what it takes. hell, quinn, you got the team to the playoffs for the first time in 4 years. that has to count for something,” the tone of your voice is almost pleading, begging him to take what you’re saying to heart.

“your teammates love you. they look up to you. the fans love you. they were excited when you were named captain. i love you,” you take a moment, watching his face slowly change from distress to calm. “and i won’t sit here and listen to you say awful things about the man that i love. not for something that changes nothing about how i feel about you or your value as the captain of your team,” you finish, a knot forming in your throat because of how deeply you feel about the man sitting in front of you.

quinn just sits and looks at you, finally snapped out of his self destruct mode. “i…love you so much, you know that?” he tells you before pulling you into him and engulfing you in one of his ‘huggybear’ hugs.

“you’re right. i’m here because i deserve to be. and if you believe in me, who cares what anyone else thinks? i’ve got the best motivation right here in front of me,” he speaks into your neck, squeezing you tightly to his body, like he’s trying to press you into his skin, knowing he can always count on you to talk him out of his insecurities.

you get the rare moments, too, where quinn starts comparing himself to his brothers. you’d think as the oldest he’d know better, knowing that the two younger boys have always looked up to him, but once the media started trying to pit the three against each other, the seed of doubt crept its way into his thoughts.

it’s not even just about hockey, either. it’s the way jack is always so outgoing, the life of the party. and luke always seems so universally adored, his bashful charm winning him over with crowds.

quinn? quinn feels like he’s just…there. he can’t strike up a conversation as naturally as jack can. and his shyness seems to only drive people away, not draw people in, like luke’s.

and yeah, quinn knows you’re always there with him, keeping him company and being his buffer in all of the various social settings he finds himself in, but he can’t help but wish he was a little bit more like his brothers.

especially right now, when he’s sitting by the fire pit at the family lake house, a few of brother’s shared friends over for the weekend.

he’s sitting in a chair sipping on a beer, watching you partake in a heated game of beer pong with jack, luke, trevor, and cole. all day he’s felt a little…less than. watching you on the boat earlier dancing around to your favorite song with jack, not worrying about who might float by and see the two of you.

or when you were helping prep dinner, and trevor came up to you and struck up a conversation, talking a mile a minute while you kept up with and soaked up every word, adding to the conversation with just as much enthusiasm at the drop of a hat.

or right now, when cole is picking you up and swinging you around after you just won the drinking game, launching into your ‘secret’ handshake the two of you coined a few summers ago.

he wishes he could give you those things. the loud, crazy, fun atmosphere you seem to thrive in. he wishes he could be the guy to parade you around at all of the hockey banquets, introducing you to various people. he wants to dress up with you on halloween in the ridiculous couples costumes you always show him. to be the spontaneous boyfriend that goes diving off of the small cove cliffs on the lake like you love to do with jack.

but that’s just…not who he is. he likes to be quiet, observant, lowkey, private. he likes to listen to other people carry the conversation, and just chime in when he has something to add. he likes to drive the boat and watch everyone else splash around in the water, jumping in for a few minutes just to cool off before resuming his position on the driver’s seat. he hates going to the bar after games with his teammates, but agrees because he knows you like dressing up and going out.

he loves when the two of you spend time reading together on the couch, then order dinner in and watch a movie before bed. he likes the fact that the two of you can sit in silence, both comfortable enough to not feel the need to fill the space with empty conversation. he likes being able to come home to you after the loud environment of the game to the sweet whisper of your voice, because you know how he likes the soft tone after the arena full of screams and sirens.

but he can’t help but feel like he’s causing you to be less for him, seeing how much life you seem to have in times like these.

he’s broken out of his little pity party when you come running over to him. “quinny!! did you see that! we won! i won!” you fling your half-drunk self down onto his lap, beaming your beautiful smile to him.

“i did. looked like you were having fun,” he says with a smile, but his tone is flat.

he watches your smile fade slightly, cocking your head at him. “you okay?” you ask him, always able to tell when something’s not right in that mysterious brain of his.

“yeah, m’just tired. might head in early,” he tells you, drumming his fingers along the tanned skin of your leg, signaling he’s about to stand up.

“okay…well then i’ll go with you. just gotta tell the guys goodnight first,” you respond skeptically, removing yourself from his lap as he stands.

“no, no, don’t wanna ruin your fun. just come to bed when you’re done, yeah? don’t drink too much, sweetheart,” quinn shakes his head, placing a kiss on the top of your head before turning and walking away from you, leaving you confused.

you watch quinn walk up the stone steps, stopping in the dimly lit kitchen to hover over the sink for a few moments, staring out the window looking over the dark lake. you can tell by his body language something is bothering him, so you turn and walk over to tell the rest of the group that you’re heading to bed, ignoring their protests of ‘you’re no fun! quinn’s made you boring!’ with a playful show of your middle finger as you walk away, following quinn’s same path.

quinn’s so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the kitchen door open or the soft pad of your footsteps walking towards him, only breaking out of his trance when he feels your hands make their way around his torso and your body pressed against his back.

“whatcha thinking about?” you ask him, placing a small kiss to the middle of his back through his thin t-shirt.

“nothing,” he tells you, his tone not convincing you. “why aren’t you out there defending your title?” he turns around so he’s facing you, resting his own hands on your waist.

“because something has you locked in that pretty head of yours, and i intend to find out why my boyfriend is sad,” you tell him in that soft tone of voice he loves, not wasting any time getting to the bottom of his odd mood.

quinn’s cheeks involuntarily flush, always having loved when you call him pretty. but before you can admire him too much he closes his eyes and throws his head back, sighing, not wanting to talk about how pathetic he is.

“you’ll just think it’s silly and pointless,” he confesses, knowing you won’t concede until you pry it out of him.

“try me,” you tell him as he looks down at you, seeing the cocked eyebrow and look of determination on your face.

he’s silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to explain it to you without making you feel like you did something wrong, because he knows you’ll immediately start picking apart what you could’ve possibly done to make him feel like this. but it’s not you, it’s his problem.

you continue to look at him with love in your eyes, silently encouraging him.

“it’s just…” he starts then pauses again, bringing a hand up to toy with your low ponytail. “do you…ever…y’know, wish i was different? more like jack? or trevor?” he finally gets the words out, shock taking over your features.

he watches your eyes go from loving, to surprised, to sad.

“quinn, what? no. never,” you tell him, shaking your head so vigorously he’s worried you’ll make yourself dizzy.

he brings his hands up to stop the movement of your head, leaving his soft hands there, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“it’s just…i see how you are around them. how…full of life you are,” he watches your mouth open and close, like you want to interrupt him but thought better of it. “and i can’t help but wonder if you’re missing out because of me,” he shrugs, removing his hands from your face to let them rest in half fists on your shoulders, a sad smile on his face.

reaching up to grab his hands and hold them in both of yours, you shake them a bit to get him to look at you.

“i’m not missing out on anything, do you hear me?” you tell him with such seriousness in your voice he’s almost worried you’re mad. “they’re a good time, yeah, but they’re not you, q.”

still not convinced, quinn let’s his doubt control his thoughts again. “i just know that they’re more your speed. they like to go out and party and have fun and i…don’t,” he can’t meet your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness settled there.

“with them you’re always talking and can be loud and spontaneous like i know you like to do. but with me it’s always whispers and quiet and hiding away in corners or at home. i don’t do silly dances with you in the boat without caring who might see or have a secret handshake when we win beer pong. i sit on the couch and read in silence. i sit in the corner and watch everyone else have fun when we go out because i don’t want videos of me all over the internet,” he continues, his tone growing more frustrated with each word spoken.

“i just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you’ve wasted all this time with some boring guy who only wants to sit at home and only goes out when he has to or when you want to, not because he enjoys it,” he finishes, nearly shaking with vulnerability.

his words are a knife straight into your heart, not wanting to believe he really feels this way about himself.

“oh quinny,” you bring your hands up to cup his face, wiping at the moisture forming in his grey eyes.

he gives you a weak smile, turning his head to kiss your open palm, closing his eyes at the comfort your skin on his always brings him.

“i need you to know, that i love you, quinn hughes. i love you so much it hurts me sometimes. like, physically pains me. i look at you and i feel like my chest could literally bust open with how deeply i feel about you. and not just when things are good. all the time. every day. even when we’re fighting. even when you’re sad. even when you leave your socks stuffed in the creases of the couch,” you tell him, earning a small, wet laugh, because he knows how much you hate that poor habit of his.

“i love you when we’re sitting in silence on the couch because you just got home from a game and need a noise break. i love you when we’ve been reading for hours, the only sound between us the turning pages of our books. i love you when we’re sitting in the corner of the bar because you don’t want to be the center of attention when someone buys the team a round. i love you when you’re watching me be crazy and drunk on the boat because you want to make sure someone is sober and everyone is safe. i love you when you’re ‘boring’ because to me, you’re never boring,” you confess to him, feeling the small tear slip out of your left eye and down your cheek, matching quinn’s.

“you’re the person that i love with everything that i have in me. the one that brings me home whatever books i’ve been talking about wanting to read during our marathons on a random afternoon just because you were thinking about it. the person that sacrifices his alone time away from his team, and just hockey in general, to go to banquets and events because you know i enjoy those things sometimes. you’re the person that always watches my favorite silly shows with me, no matter how stupid they are. my personal chef, my human teddy bear, my best friend,” you whisper the last words, sniffling, noticing quinn’s eyes are now closed tightly.

“because even though i do enjoy being loud and rowdy sometimes, i enjoy being with you, more. i enjoy the quiet and the slowness of life with you. the time we get to spend together without distractions or expectations. so no, i don’t wish you were more like jack, or trevor, or luke, or cole, or whoever. because you’re like quinn, which is exactly who i want you to be,” your voice finally goes quiet, bringing your forehead to rest against his, hoping your words are enough to convince him that his insecurities are just that. they hold no weight and have no truth to them.

the two of you simply soak in each other’s presence, neither one daring break the intimacy of the words hanging in the air.

when quinn finally opens his eyes and leans his head back, he lets out a shaky breath.

“tell me not to get down on one knee and propose to you right now,” he tells you, a slight joking tone to his voice, earning a small chuckle from you.

“way to do a complete 180,” you joke back, once again tangling your hands in his hair.

he huffs out a small laugh, tilting his head back before brining it back up to look at you.

“thank you,” he breaths out. “i don’t know how i got so in my head, but all day i watched you have fun and i don’t know. i got lost for a bit.”

you lean forward to place a small peck on the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it slightly in response.

“well, luckily for you, i’ll always be here to come in there and find you, bringing you back out here to me,” you tap your finger along his temple.

“luckiest in the world,” he beams down at you.

#alliyaps #i got so carried away #but insecure!quinn does bad things to me #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #qh43

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harrysfolklore · 1 year ago

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ring hard launch - blurb

the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !

gif by @sunkissedlouis <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.

It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.

And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.

Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.

Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.

"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."

"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."

"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.

Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.

"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."

"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"

"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.

"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"

Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.

"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.

"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."

"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."

Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."

You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.

"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.

"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."

"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.

"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.

"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."

"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."

"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.

A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.

"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."

"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."

"Thank god."

By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.

While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.

As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.

"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.

"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."

"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."

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watermelonsugacry · 1 year ago

Note

harry's 30th birthday blurb with 1d!yn?! 👀

Birthday Surprises

SUMMARY: Harry celebrates his 19th and 30th birthday with the person he loves.

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry

Since 2010 masterlist

Not to sound ungrateful, but Harry thinks that this was one of the worst birthday celebrations that he's ever had.

Tonight, he just wanted to spend his last year being a teenager having fun with friends—not be completely embarrassed and uncomfortable being strip teased and danced on by strippers.

Not to mention that afterwards, One Direction’s management team had booked him to do a relationship stunt for the night. So as he walked out of the club and into his security team’s Range Rover, a tall, blonde model was by his side. As bad as it sounded, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name for the life of him.

Nothing was going to happen with her anyways. All they had to do was a couple of paparazzi pictures of them together before they’re driven off into the night. The driver would discreetly drop her off at her own hotel before escorting Harry back to his.

So there's not an ounce of uncertainty that when Harry comes out of the elevator, he's absolutely tired and wants nothing more than to be left alone.

He waves his card key in front of the lock and once he hears the little "beep" sound, he pushes the heavy door open.

His irritation and tiredness might have just peaked over its breaking point when he begins to hear rustling from inside. He’s already extremely worn out that he doesn’t even want to put in the effort into putting on a nice face to whoever’s inside his hotel room. But the smile that appears on his face is effortless when he sees YN flicking the wheel of the lighter over some birthday candles sticking out of a chocolate cake.

“Fucking fuck—oh, surprise!” She hops, extending her arms out beside her in what she hopes to look like a grand gesture.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.”

Anyone a mile away can tell how uncomfortable he was during the whole stripper fiasco. It sucked to have to stand off to the side, a faux smile on her face to see her bandmate in that type of situation. As much as she wanted to stay with him for the other “fun” festivities the night had to offer, she knew that she couldn’t let his birthday end the way it was heading. So she took the chance to leave the club a bit early and hoped that he would be up for one more celebratory, late night hang out.

“But, but it’s already past midnight,” He blinks, still a little dumbfounded at the kind surprise before him.

"Oh come on, we only have—err—three, ah! Two more minutes until your birthday is officially over." YN pulls Harry over to the small dining table and sits him down in front of his freshly lit cake. It's then that he notices the shaky lettering on the cake that reads, “Happy Birthday Harry!” Letting him know that she went more out of her way for him than she initially let on.

She comically clears her throat before beautifully yet quickly singing the infamous Happy Birthday song. The song isn't being yelled at to him by a big group of people, and the room isn't jam-packed with people he doesn't know. When he leans over to blow out his candles, he isn't fearful of hands going to the back of his head to stuff his face into the cake.

He doesn’t think twice about wrapping her up in his arms. He squeezes the tops of her shoulders tightly and she nestles into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The sentiment doesn't, can't go by unnoticed, but it doesn't seem totally out of the norm. This is Harry. A sweet and affectionate person whose love language is undoubtedly physical touch. If anything, it'd be YN feeling the one out of place in this situation. And maybe it was a change of heart towards her anti-touchy feelings or maybe it was because of his birthday. Either way, he's grateful for the way she's letting him hold her. If it were anyone else, she definitely wouldn't wrap her arms around his torso, humming at the warmth he brings.

"Well the night doesn’t have end here,” YN blinks up at him. As if they both realize their close proximity, they slowly pull away to give each other some space. “If you're still up for it and not too tuckered out, I rented that one stupid rom com you like. The one with the guy standing outside with the signs."

"Love Actually? I thought you didn't like that movie."

"Well to be fair, I actually have never seen it. But it’s your birthday and this is sort of part of my gift to you. You know, if you even wanna see it. If not, I can just fuck off and you can sleep because I know you probably had a pretty eventful day—”

She’s rambling. YN’s rambling—a quality she was never prone to particularly show, but it’s cute. He thinks she’s cute.

“YN,” He chuckles, effectively cutting her off. “I’m down to watch it.”

“Really? Okay, cool. Because I already have the film on queue in the room so that would have been real fooking embarrassing.” Annnd she’s back.

He watches with curious eyes as she carefully slides the heavy cake plate onto her hands.

She throws a nod towards the kitchenette, “Mind grabbing the forks.”

As much as Harry tries to resist it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. He quickly grabs the two utensils before following behind her to the open bedroom. YN quite literally steps onto the foot of the bed before carefully sitting down, balancing the cake in her hands.

He sits down next to her, handing her the fork just as she begins the movie. They both dig their forks into the middle of the cake, taking out a chunk.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” She says, clicking the ends of their forks together. She happily hums at the delicious dessert but it quickly turns into a groan at the opening aong of the movie. “Ah not this stupid song again. I felt like this was all i was hearing just the other month.”

He’d be lying if he said he was watching more of the movie than her. His cheeks hurt from chuckling at her witty commentary and he tries not to make a big deal about the way she actually started to get into the film. So as he eats cake and spends the rest of the night with his best friend, he thinks that this might be the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

• 11 years later ●

YN stumbles through the front door as Harry cradles her in his arms, his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. They smile through their kisses, and he hums as she runs her finger through his growing curls. Harry kicks the door of their shared home behind him and blindly tosses the keys haphazardly in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Okay, okay,” YN pushes against his shoulders, finally getting a breath in, the pair still walking further into their home without separating. “So I know you said you didn't want any more presents—”

“Baby,” the grown man playfully whines. “You've already given me everything.” In all sincerity, she really has in his eyes. He’s been in love with the woman before him since they were sixteen. He wanted to be with her since their time in the band, through the making of their solo albums and everything in between. Even though it’s been a little over a year now, it still brings an explainable peace and warmth to his heart that she’s now his wife; not his friend with benefits, secret lovers, or merely a couple, but married.

And today couldn't have gone better. YN had the whole day planned. They started the day with lazy morning sex that turned into breakfast in bed. They spent the afternoon down by a secluded beach, having an impromptu dip in the water just before eating the lunch she packed for them. Then, after a plane ride to their private villa in Italy, they've just got back from having a beautiful dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“There's nothing more I could possibly want. Ooo, unless you're hiding some sexy lingerie under this fine ass dress you got here.” He says into her the crook of her neck, already sponging kisses onto her skin.

YN lets out a laugh, especially as his fingers begin to bunch up her silk dress. “No! Well, not no but—”

“So you do,” Harry says with excitement, the creases in his eyes appear when he hears her laughter.

“Just hang on a sec. Your present is upstairs.”

“So I get to unwrap my last birthday present in the bedroom,” He teases her further. Her husband relishes in the way she lets out a girly squeal when he dips down and effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder to bring them into the master bedroom.

“Wait, wait,” She pushes as Harry plops them down on the bed, already trapping her underneath him. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Once she's managed to wiggle herself free (with great effort, no thanks to Harry) she scurries off to the connected bathroom.

He sits himself down on the bed, undoing the cuffs of his button up before rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself to see if wife in lacy undergarments that are only begging to be taken off by his teeth. Or torn off. Either one would work.

“H, close your eyes.” YN says from behind the door. “I mean it, no peeking.”

“Alright, alright.” He complies, already feeling a childlike sense of giddy anticipation.

“Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yes! For fuck sake’s woman. Being so mean on my birthday,” he laughs.

He feels the bed dip next to him before a kiss is pressed to his lips. Before he can bring his hands to her jaw to deepen the sweet kiss, he feels something being placed in his hands.

“Okay, open them,” she says against his lips.

He pulls back and sees a red box tied with a bow on top.

“Lovie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Last one, I promise.”

Just to tease her, he brings the small box next to his head and shakes it slightly to hear the contents rattle inside.

YN makes a strategic move by placing one of her hands behind him so her thumb can twist at her rings, knowing that that's her dead giveaway for her nerves.

When he opens the lid, it's only then his face gets serious—lips slightly parted with soft eyes. On top of the pile of confetti lies a pregnancy test. The small, red plus line stares back at him clear as day.

“YN?” When he looks to his love, she begins to hold back her tears at the sight of his watery eyes and pink nose. “Is—wha—are you sure?”

“I took like five of them just to be sure,” she lets out a chuckle.

“We’re having a baby?” Words can't describe the warmth and happiness that fills her chest at his excitement. It's not like they haven't mentioned having kids before. It's been brought up a couple of times, most recently these past two years, but the timing was never right. They were always working; whether it be on making an album, working on themselves, and for the longest time, tour was their babies. But now that their 2 year world tours have ended and they've finally had time to go MIA for a couple of months, it didn't feel like a better time.

The couple wasn't setting up a schedule or anything technical to have a baby. Especially since going on their second honeymoon had been occupying their schedule right after touring was done, they decided that baby making would happen naturally. Whenever their baby decided to enter their lives, that would be the perfect time.

YN nods and before she can say the words to verbally confirm, he has her wrapped in his arms. Harry lifts her off the bed and gives her a little twirl.

As quickly as he picked her up, he's on his knees before her and puts a gentle hand on her tummy.

“Hi, bubba,” he says softly. YN beams at the sight, already wiping at the happy tears running down her cheeks. “I'm your daddy, and I love you so so much.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, he finally takes his wife's face in his hands and kisses her. It isn't rushed or filled with a sexual need. It's soft and filled with so much love and passion.

“We're gonna be parents, baby. You’re gonna make the best momma," he says sincerely, getting more emotional at the thought of holding a mini YN or a mini him in his arms in less than a year from now.

"And you're gonna make the best dad," she hums. He wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders, pulling her close to him as she cuddles into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and sniffs back his tears.

"I love you so much."

“i love you, baby. Happy birthday, Harry.”

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89

(Let me know if you wanna be added 💚)

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live-love-be-unique · 9 months ago

Text

A little Gaz x reader blurb I thought of based on this pic

Rocky, Ro-Ro, Peanut, Sweet Boy, Baby.

You called that bloody dog every single name except for it’s actual name.

Gaz had brought Roscoe home for you as a gift. A beautiful Doberman puppy that he could train to watch over you while he was on missions. That hadn’t worked out though, the only commands that dog ended up learning were “walkies” and “treat” and the only thing that Roscoe was protecting was his food bowl.

But, you loved him. The way your eyes had lit up when he had brought home the small puppy and instantly bounding across the room to coo at the puppy and place kisses over Gaz’s face almost made up for the way Gaz swore you loved that dog more than him. Almost.

Gaz’s phone rang out during a briefing. Quickly silencing it, he glanced sheepishly over at Price. The ding of a message sounded soon after and Gaz’s heart dropped.

“There’s someone in the house”

He raced home, vaguely remembering offering Price and the team a hasty explanation for his departure as his car skidded along your street.

The door had been kicked off the hinges and the place had been ransacked. Gaz drew his gun, years of military training activated instantly, this was a mission. The most important of his life.

He found you, huddled in the small ensuite, Roscoe standing guard, hackles raised, teeth bared and snarling at the door. Your sweet baby Rocky was ready to lunge at the intruder, to tear them apart.

Rosco recognised Gaz and happily trotted over to him, his way of saying “I protected my mama” that dog definitely deserved a bloody steak for his dinner tonight. But Gaz still drew the line at calling him any of the baby names you called him.

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod

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lea-russo333 · 3 days ago

Text

Recovery's hard <3 Leah Williamson

hii pookies!

It's been a while since I've posted anything which I apologize for. I got slapped with the biggest writers block ever. which (if I'm being honest) I'm still struggling through but yolo✌️. I got a smidge of inspiration today and decided to finish a small blurb🤭

hurt/comfort

warnings: 18+, themes of SH (pls don't read if that's a triggering topic for you)

proofread: somewhat

You hadn't meant for her to see you like this, she was supposed to be out tonight. A special team dinner to celebrate their recent win.

The feeling of guilt started to pool at the bottom of your stomach, you had ruined her night.

Your eyes glassed over as you watched her hand on your thigh, pushing hard against you, sending a jolt of pain up your body. She squeezed your hand gently in a silent apology. Her hands worked quickly, tightly securing the bandage. You felt her lips place a soft kiss on your once exposed skin.

She looked up towards you, eyes trying to find yours, but you refused to meet her gaze, worried to see what you might find in them.

Would she be annoyed, angry, disappointed?

“Hey” Her voice caught your attention, pulling you slightly out of the thoughts that were beginning to consume you.

“what's on your mind love?” she questioned, her hand cupping your cheek with softness the other still keeping its place on your thigh, rubbing soft patterns along the bandaged skin.

“I'm sorry” the whispered words left your lips so softly she almost didn't hear them.

“You have nothing to be sorry for baby” she sat down beside you, pulling you to sit in her lap. Her fingers making their way to your hair, “this happens, okay? Its apart of process”

The tears in your eyes started to fall at her words. You knew this was a part of recovery, a part of getting better, but it didn't make it any less hard, no matter how many times it happens.

“How about we get up, hm? And we get into some comfortable clothes and cuddle in bed?” she asked, dragging her fingers through your hair. “We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, love- not yet anyway”. You nodded your head at her question, arms going around her neck as she carried you out of the bathroom towards your shared bedroom, placing you on top of the bed gently.

You watched as she pulled clothes out of her side of the wardrobe, both for you and her. your eyes beginning to stray back down to your wounded skin, tears still flowing as guilt pooled in your stomach, again.

“Arms up” Leahs hushed voice reached your ear as her finger tugged on the hem of your tank top. Your arms moved mechanically, feeling your top slide over your head; quickly being replaced by a familiar arsenal hoodie. A warm comfort filled your body as the smell of Leahs perfume wrapped around you like a hug.

Your eyes strayed on her figure as you watched her change into her own clothes before climbing under the covers of the bed, her arms reaching out towards you. A small smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight in front of you, her hair a perfect mess on top of her head; blond flyways framing her face and her grey hoodie pulled slightly over her head. Her lips holding a slight smile as you looked at her.

“Quit staring and get over here” her voice was playful as she pulled back the cover, beckoning you over. You quickly obliged, practically launching your body towards your gf and flopping your body down into her awaiting arms. Her hand found its way to your hair, softly stroking her fingers through the curls while the other found its way to your waist, pulling you in closer to her.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there but the feeling of Leahs fingers carding themselves through your hair and tracing delicate patterns along your exposed skin; made your eyes heavy with sleep. A small yawn slipped from your mouth as you nuzzled your face closer in the crook of her neck.

“Go to sleep my love” her lips pressed a longing kiss to the top of your head, spreading a warm feeling of comfort through your body as you closed your eyes.

“I love you” your voice came out muffled, laced with sleepiness, making a small slip pass Leahs lips.

“I love you more.”

#woso #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson fanfic

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nadvs · 7 months ago

Note

i have loved your work for some time now and you always outdone yourself with every new thing you write. im obsessed with the sleeping with the enemy blurbs🤍🤍

can i request rafe getting into a fight because he heard someone talking bad about reader and he goes to her dorm and she cleans him up and he doesn't confess what happened because she would mock him or something like that?

YOU’RE SO SWEET OH MY GOSH THANK YOU 😭 i loved writing the one-shot and i’m so pleasantly surprised and touched that so many readers like the au!! tysm i love this request!!

based on this fic

before he knows it, rafe’s knuckles are pulsating with a sharp ache. it all happened so fast.

he’s at a bar off campus. he’s painfully sober. his team lost at an embarrassing margin today. and then, he heard one of the guys who’s dating a girl on his team’s cheerleading squad shit-talking his best friend.

he called her an attention whore. said she purposely hikes up her skirt when she dances at games and will say yes to any guy who asks for ‘you know what’.

rafe knows the truth. this guy likely got caught looking at her by his girlfriend and is now overcompensating by saying how gross the hawks’ cheerleader is.

even though his words were bullshit, they were more than enough for rafe to start swinging. unfortunately, his victim had friends near by. they got a few punches in. then he got kicked out of the bar.

at this point, she’s the only person who can make him feel better. so, he’s knocking on her door soon after. he invited her out tonight, but she told him she’s staying in to study.

she gasps when she opens the door and sees him holding a red stained tissue up against his mouth.

“what the fuck…” she breathes. “are you okay?”

before he can answer, she pulls him in by the crook of his elbow and guides him to sit on her desk, pushing her textbooks away.

she lowers his hand, eyes worryingly searching his face.

“how much does it hurt?” she says with a wince.

“it’s not that bad,” he says. it’s true. the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet, but he’s sure he’ll be bruised up and sore tomorrow. “but i fucked up my hand.”

she looks down at him flexing his hand. his knuckles are red and swollen. she holds his hand in hers, her skin warm and soft, and shakes her head.

“shit,” she whispers. “i’ll be right back.”

she rushes out to the bathroom and comes back with paper towels, some damp and some dry. then, she pours him some water from her mini-fridge and puts a bottle of painkillers beside him on the desk.

rafe watches her in awe as she scrambles to help. he’s not sure he’s ever had someone be this worried about him. this determined to make him feel better.

he keeps his hands on his lap as she leans forward, dabbing the damp paper against his skin.

“lay it on me,” she says quietly. “and spare no details.”

rafe already rehearsed this in the car. he hates to lie to her considering the fact that honesty is basically the cornerstone of their friendship. but repeating what that jackass at the bar said is a waste of breath. it’ll just hurt her. he can’t hurt her.

“some guy was talking shit about the game,” he fibs.

“sorry. it was a rough one tonight,” she says. “last thing you needed was that.”

he had a game at a college an hour away tonight, so she had a stream of it playing as she studied. she watches his games whenever she can.

rafe is an amazing player. she never followed or cared this much about the career of any athlete she dated. and she’s not even dating him.

“it was bullshit,” he mutters.

“it was,” she agrees. she slowly runs the dry paper towel over where she moistened his cheek. “how many times did they rebound foul? i actually lost count.”

“exactly,” he says.

“and if i’m out of line, fine,” she continues, “but what the hell was morrow doing? was he tired? he was practically handing them opportunities.”

rafe nods. he laid into eddie morrow, his team’s small forward, for his shitty defensive transitions tonight.

“he told me he had a bad sleep,” rafe scoffs.

“great excuse,” she breathes. she straightens, looking at his cleaned up face.

it gives him an opportunity to stare at her. she’s so casual about it all. how quickly she swept in to clean him up. how much she knows about the game he lives and breathes. how beautiful she is.

how could anyone say anything bad about this woman?

“you’re a little swollen but still pretty, for what it’s worth,” she says with a smile. “i just hope your hand’s okay in time for your next game.”

even if it isn’t, rafe knows that punching someone for shit-talking her was worth it.

“take one if you want,” she tells him, picking up the bottle of painkillers. “get ahead of the pain.”

he pops a painkiller and gulps down the water she poured him.

“you wanna hang out here while i study?” she asks. “my room is way more exciting than some bar.”

she’s being sarcastic, but honestly, hanging out with her does sound like more fun than going out.

“sure,” he says simply. he’s exhausted. and being here feels good.

throughout the evening, rafe lies on her bed, scrolling on his phone while she studies at her desk. every so often, they fall into easy conversation. but it’s no surprise. everything between them is so effortless.

eventually, he starts dozing off and is about to stand to leave, but she tells him he can just pass out in her bed.

as rafe falls into his slumber, smelling her on her pillow, he tiredly mumbles that he wishes he met her sooner. she turns to look at him in surprise, feeling butterflies over his words when she knows she shouldn’t feel that way about her friend. his eyes are already shut.

he falls asleep thinking about how good she smells. she continues to study thinking about how nice is to have him around.

#ask #swteblurb #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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cupidbedsy · 1 day ago

Note

i would love a part two to the quinn neglecting you blurb :)

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked restless rose 🌹 !

warnings: quinn feeling like an ass, wrote on my phone so i don’t know how grammatically correct this is

word count: 740

florist cupid: the long awaited part two ! i’m so glad everyone liked this, i honestly didn’t think it would go crazy the way it did but im thankful it did.

it was about an hour that quinn was out of the apartment, thoughts racing through his head as he walked down the street. he’d shoot a weak smile and give a small wave to those who called out his name, even stopping to sign something once and a while.

but for the most part, he spent his time in his own headspace, thinking about the vents that had happened in the past couple hours. he’d been neglecting you for weeks. how could he not haven seen it?

at some point during his walk he stopped outside a flower stand, eyes trailing over each and every flower, finally settling on a small bouquet of one of your favorite flowers, making small talk with the older lady who was working the stand.

“special date tonight?”

quinn looked at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “no i uh… kind of messed up.”

the lady gave him a knowing smile, finishing wrapping the flowers nicely. it was silent for the next few moments before she handed the bouquet to him. he went to take out his wallet but the woman just shook her head with a fond look on her face, “don’t worry about it.”

quinn fumbled, almost dropping his cash on the ground, “are you sure? i couldn’t just-“

“is she important?”

he nodded instantly, “yeah, most important person in the world. she um-“ he let a smile tug at his lips and tears prick his eyes, “she’s everything to me.”

“then it’s no big deal. you only get one of those girls, don’t lose her now.”

quinn thanked her again, walking away from the stand, but not before slipping money into the small jar.

━。゜✿ ゜。━

when he got back to your shared apartment, he played with the zipper of his jacket for a few moments before sliding the key in and unlocking the door.

you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch the whole time he had been gone, you were too engrossed in your thoughts to move.

the sound of the lock unlocking stirred you from trance, snapping your head to look at the door.

quinn looked even more tired than when he had left, his hair messy as if he had been running his hands through it nonstop on his walk.

your eyes found the flowers in his hands, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you spoke softly, “quinny.”

he gave you a weak smile, slipping his shoes off and walking over to where you now stood. he handed you the flowers, the fingers on his free hand intertwining with yours.

he leaned down, letting your forehead rest against his. he played with your fingers, his and yours breathing being the only sound you could hear.

“they’re beautiful… thank you.”

“i’m sorry.”

you peered up at him through your eyelashes, taking in his guilty expression. you detangled your hand from his, reaching up to cup his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, “quinn-”

“i’m sorry.” he repeated, placing his hand on your hip to draw you closer to him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you aside, i shouldn’t have been so absorbed in the team and i should’ve been taking care of myself. you’re the most important person in my life and i wouldn’t have even been able to get through this past year without you, i shouldn’t have taken you for granted.”

you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him talk, hanging on every word he said. you knew he was sorry, you knew he didn’t mean to do this, but he did and it happened.

it was a rough patch in your relationship, but you would get through it, you knew you would.

he frowned when he saw the tears in your eyes, moving his hand to grasp yours again, “don’t cry, please. you know i hate when you do, especially if it’s because of me.”

he took the flowers from your hand, placing them down on the coffee table to bring you into a hug, cradling your head to his chest.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise even if it’s the last thing i do.”

“don’t need to make it up to my quinn,” your fingers grasped at his sweater, clutching it like a lifeline. “you’re here now, and you apologized, not that you needed to, but that’s what matters. you’re here now.”

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

#. ˚◞ ✿〚 cupid's floral shop 〛#˚ ༘♡〚 cupids writing 〛ₓ｡#˚｡⋆〚 blurbs 〛#˚｡⋆〚 quinn hughes 〛#quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader

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defututus · 16 days ago

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Even When I'm Not With You

Through Snow & Sleet

masterlist

modern!Eddie Munson x AFAB!reader, college AU, strangers to friends to lovers

Summary: You meet someone in one of your college classes and it's love at first sight.

content warnings: swearing, it's a very modern AU

word count: 5.6k

author's note: this is technically my first fanfic. I began writing it in April of 2024 and only got around to posting it now. This is the backbone of the AU I've maintained in my head since I fell in love with Eddie. It takes place at the university I went to, involves all my friends, and some personal experiences. Once again, thank you to my two best friends @corroded-hellfire and @munson-blurbs for encouraging me to write and helping me out when I got stuck. Hopefully you guys like it because I have more to share in the future! ❤️

The cold February air was biting at your face as you hurried across campus, slow enough to avoid the ice that no doubt sat in the dark waiting for one careless student to step on it and fall flat on their ass. The walkways were lit just enough to allow you to see where you were going but not enough to help you spot any icy spots so this was as fast as you were willing to move. What should have been a relatively easy day turned into a nightmare the moment you woke up. It had snowed overnight and the university grounds crew had neglected to salt the sidewalks once again so you nearly fell twice just trying to get from your dorm building to the dining hall next door. Once you had a decent breakfast you made your way to work and learned that there was a bad cold spreading among the employees and had claimed three of your coworkers that you expected to work with today, thus leaving you with only your team lead to help you in your department. A good chunk of your morning was spent unloading consoles set to be released soon and left you exhausted. There were a fair share of unhappy customers that you had to deal with, and it only got worse when you finally got to go on your lunch and realized you left your wallet in your room so you had to eat the day-old bagels left in the break room. Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

Your university was located in the middle of a metropolitan area so you were fully aware that the rush hour traffic was bad. To avoid the inevitable panic of wondering if you could be held up in traffic and be late to class, you built your class schedule around your shifts to leave an hour and a half for you to get home when the longest it could possibly take is twenty minutes with heavy traffic. Tonight’s class, Physical Anthropology, was on the other side of campus so you also had to factor in the time it would take to walk there. Still, you would be left ample time to get home, change out of your work clothes, and even have dinner without the need to rush. You were thankful that this was the last week before spring break so at least you could relax when you weren’t working.

Your careful planning had worked perfectly up until today because you couldn’t possibly account for the accident on the highway. Everyone was trying to get home before the storm came back to make the streets undriveable, but one driver was in such a rush that they lost control and caused a small pile-up. The drivers were all alright, thankfully, but this left you sitting in traffic for over an hour and your anxiety slowly creeping up. You were close to emailing your professor to tell them you weren’t going to make it even though the university was right in front of you. By 6:15pm, you were finally moving and rushed across campus. You weren’t even going to change out of your uniform and decided to just keep on the sweater you wore under your coat. All you had to do was grab your bag right by your door and make the trek across campus. Unfortunately once you grabbed everything you needed, you were now left with 15 minutes to make the 11-minute uphill trek to your classroom, assuming there were no obstacles in your way.

You made it inside the building and into your classroom with two minutes to spare, but in your mind you were basically late to class. You preferred to get there ten minutes early so you could choose a decent seat and get yourself situated, but by the time you were inside all the good spots were taken and the professor was already setting up for her lesson. The only seats left were in the back so you made your way over and put your stuff down at the first open spot you see. As you begin unpacking your things, the professor turns some of the lights off and puts on a video on osteology that you had been focusing on for the last two weeks.

You were never a very social person in school, always preferring to keep to yourself and only talk when other people initiate a conversation. This class was only on your schedule because it fulfilled a requirement, nothing else. Your only friends here were within your small program and none of them were in this class with you. You didn’t know anyone's names or faces, especially not the person you just sat next to. His only acknowledgement of you was in the form of scooting a little bit so he wasn’t taking up all the space at the table you were now sharing. He was focused on whatever he was frantically writing down in his notebook, a curtain of curly brown hair concealing his face from you. However, you were able to see what he was writing in. It was a beaten up spiral notebook full of carefully organized notes with color coded tabs. There were flowcharts, sketches of what looked like maps, and character information. He also had some pages printed out that were tucked between the pages. None of those things really stuck out to you, instead your eyes were drawn to a hastily drawn creature in the corner of the left page. It was a scaled, humanoid figure with wings and horns. You could almost mistake it for a gargoyle if it weren’t for its stature and flames surrounding it. It’s something you’d recognize almost anywhere.

You whisper to the person next to you, “That pit fiend looks really good.” His pen stops mid-sentence and his head shoots up to look at you. A woodsy smell mixed with a hint of tobacco and mint wafted towards you with his movements. It was almost intoxicating.The first thing you looked at were his eyes. They were wide open with shock and they were the richest, most beautiful shade of brown you had seen in your entire life. His lips were full, a little chapped either from biting and wetting them or the cold weather sucking all the moisture out of everything. He had light freckled across his nose and a small, faded scar on his forehead. The rest of his hair that wasn’t previously obscuring his face was tied back into a bun. You both sat there in silence for a moment as he struggled to put words together. He’s wearing chunky silver rings and a worn Slipknot hoodie. You could even see the edges of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar and another of a goat skull on his left hand.

“Oh, thanks. Um…” He looked down at the page for a second, ringed hands fidgeting with the pen he was holding before pointing towards the large flow chart, “It’s for this week’s campaign. I didn’t have a lot of time this week to plan so I’m trying to get it all done right before we meet up tonight. My friend, Jeff, his character looted these cultists…” He glances up to check and see if you’re listening and smiles when he realizes you’re actively paying attention, leaning in to get a better look at the pages. He continues with a little more confidence in his voice.

“So his character, this Triton named Kaglas, found a really old book on one of the cultists. Turns out this book was a cursed tome belonging to a demon prince and well, he cut his finger trying to pry the book open because it was being held shut with these really sharp teeth. The blood from his finger dripped onto the book and opened a portal so a prince of hell kidnapped him and now they’ll have to get past this guy to gain access to the prison… I’m just trying to finish up the encounter tables for the rest of the prison because I always leave those until the last minute.” Before he can delve further into the story, the lights come back on and papers are being handed out to each row of tables by the professor. “The goal of this lab is to identify the species of hominid based on everything you’ve learned so far. I’m not going to pull anything funny by giving you two of the same species so don’t worry about that. Each skull is numbered. Work with the other person at your table to identify the species, write the number down, and explain your reasoning. Please be careful with these.”

The papers make their way back to your way and you hand one to your new lab partner. He accepts it, mouthing ‘thank you’ and quickly scrawls Eddie on the top of the page. Good, you tell yourself. You know his name now, progress. There’s some shuffling in the back of the room as the professor goes off on some tangent. Both yours and Eddie’s attention is drawn back to the topic of his campaign.

You began speaking to him in hushed tones, “Your friend doesn’t seem very bright. Who in their right mind would try opening a book bound shut with fucking teeth? And they got it from cultists? Are they trying to get their characters killed or are they just dumb?” Eddie stifles his laughter and shakes his head. You’re sure the professor is saying something as she moves to the back of the room but your focus is only on the man next to you. His laugh is more beautiful than any song you’ve heard before. He begins to rock his stool back and forth as he continues to speak.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. We’ve been playing together for years and I think they’re getting more and more reckless as time goes on. At this point they can recognize when I’ve set up a trap and they take it every time just for the hell of it…” so, do you play?”

There’s some shuffling going on in the cabinets in the back of the room as the professor begins pulling out skulls and placing one on each table. Eddie takes the skull and begins looking it over. You hear a quiet, “These are really cool.” You glance over at it and note the size of the skull overall and the lack of a brow ridge, quickly jotting those down before moving your paper closer to Eddie so he can write them down as well.

“I just started recently, it’s me and a few friends. We just saved this sweet little dwarf bookseller named Barnes when these half-elves stole his book cart with him inside it.” You watch Eddie examine the skull, running his fingers along the area where the sagittal crest should be. His rings catch the warm light of the old overhanging lights of the classroom. There was black ink on his hands, or was that oil? You couldn’t tell. His fingers were calloused and you could only guess he was also a musician.

“Barnes, the bookseller, huh? What’s his last name, Noble?” The only response he gets is an eye roll before putting the skull down. “By the way, I think it’s a homo erectus. There’s no crest and its teeth are smaller.” You nod and Eddie hands the skull over for you to examine. You open its mouth to get a better look at the teeth and nod to him, writing ‘homo erectus’ on the paper. The skull remained in your hands and you began inspecting it out of curiosity.

You bring the skull up to eye level and respond to Eddie with a small smirk on your face, “As a matter of fact, it is. Y’know, it’s actually a family business. His father started it and he has a bunch of brothers with the same name. They all have their own book carts in different cities. Honestly, I think they’re gonna be real successful in the future.” The story makes you laugh. The book cart wasn’t meant to be anything more than a place for your crew to gain information on the area but your insistence on “getting to know the locals” to annoy your DM, Emma, led to them creating a character that you felt attached to right away.

He rests his head in his hand and gives you a look that you can’t quite read. He has this smile on his face and this soft look in his eyes that you’ve only ever seen in romance movies when the main characters are starting to fall for each other. It wasn’t something you had the chance to experience yourself, always too nervous to ask people out yourself. Dating apps were totally out of the question because you had only heard horror stories from your friends who had tried it. You open your mouth to continue telling the story and maybe ask Eddie about his own campaigns when your professor pipes up from the front of the classroom.

“Guys, just as a reminder. These skulls are REAL and are ON LOAN TO THE UNIVERSITY and they are VERY EXPENSIVE. Please be careful with them.”

If you were being honest, you should have realized this sooner. It didn’t feel like plastic at all and had small indentations and ridges on it. This was a person. The realization nearly has you dropping the skull that once held someone's brain but thankfully, you were holding it right above the table so there was no chance of it being damaged. A laugh rang out from the seat next to you which took your attention away from what you held in your hands. He’s smiling at you. A big, toothy, beautiful smile and you wish you could look at that smile all day long. He hasn’t been in your life very long, maybe 5 minutes in total, but you were infatuated with him. Once he manages to calm himself down, Eddie slowly reaches out and takes the skull out of your hands.

“Let me take that from you. We can’t have you hurting this guy, can we?” Once the skull was out of your hands, you hang your head low in embarrassment. You feel your face growing warm and pull at the loose strings of your sweater sleeve. You bought it when you first started attending the university and it had been through the wash more times than you could and somehow created a hole in one of the sleeves. The hole was just low enough so you would stick your thumb in it and pick at it, like you were doing right now. Eddie lowers his head a bit to get a better look at you and asks, “So I guess you never realized these were real.”

You reply, face still feeling slightly flushed, “I never really thought about it, but it feels weird… I mean, that was a person,” you reply, pointing to it with your pen as you begin noting the state of its teeth and the sutures on the top of the head, “this guy had hobbies, he had a family, he lived a full life!”

Eddie interjects, turning the skull around to the back to reveal a massive crack in the middle of it. You cringe at the sight of it with Eddie bluntly replying, “I don’t think this guy had a full life. Looks to be cut pretty short to me. This is probably from an axe or some other tool.”

The rest of the class period was spent finishing the lab and learning more about each other. The two of you talked about majoring in history and your love for classical antiquity while he told you about his band and working as a mechanic with his uncle. You also learned that your music tastes were pretty similar, you had a love for rock and metal and even complimented his hoodie (“I’m gonna be completely honest, you do not look like a Slipknot fan.” “Wow, rude.”). It felt as if you had known Eddie your entire life by the time class was drawing to a close. You two were so immersed in your conversation that you didn’t even realize you were one of the last people in the classroom. Eddie unlocked his phone to check the time, allowing you a quick glance at his lock screen with a red guitar on it. Your musician hunch was right. He shoots up from his stool, hissing “Shit shit shit” and begins shoving his stuff into his backpack. You look at him bewildered and he says, “I’m sorry, I need to go. Our session is supposed to start in five minutes and I need to be on the other side of campus right now!” Once his bag was hastily packed and he was pulling his jacket on, Eddie looks at you one last time and gives you a sheepish smile. “I’ll see you next week, right? No, two weeks. I’ll see you in two weeks. It was great to meet you!” You don’t even get the chance to properly say goodbye before he leaves the classroom in a blur of black leather and denim. All you hear is the sounds of heavy boots running through the hallway and out the nearest side door.

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The walk from Eddie’s class to the student center Tuesday night was usually a leisurely one. He always made sure he got out the moment class ended so he would be able to fetch the keys for the multi-purpose room down in the basement and unlock it before everyone else arrived. Eddie always preferred to have everything set up so it was less likely someone could sneak a peek at his notes. He learned his lesson after he arrived a few minutes late and Grant got a peek at his screen and saw their Arakocra guide that was helping them navigate enemy territory was actually a spy for the local warlord. Eddie was a stickler for punctuality (ironic considering how he was always absent in high school) and would rag on anyone that was even five minutes late. Hellfire was meant to start at 8pm sharp and Eddie was rounding the corner in the basement, keys in hand, by 8:07.

By the time he has the key and rounds the corner to their room, he sees everyone standing outside and their heads all turn at once. He honestly found it kind of disturbing.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally arrived,” Gareth said with his arms crossed, “we’re glad to see you could make it.” Eddie doesn’t bother trying to justify his tardiness to him and pushes through to unlock the door and set his stuff down at the end of the table.

Everyone agreed that the drama room back in Hawkins High was definitely more comfortable than their current room and was more aesthetically pleasing. Eddie thrived when he was sitting on that throne. He would have taken it home with him if he could. However, there were some cons to that location that were rarely brought up. They had to lug extra chairs into that room every week and always had to keep their voices down. Sometimes they’d arrive and find out the space was being used for something else that week and they had to cancel the meeting. It was also located in the one part of the school that lacked air conditioning so it became unbearable once the weather started to warm up. Also, the wifi was horrible.

Eddie considered this room to be an upgrade. It wasn’t as nice as the drama room with its white painted brick walls with absolutely nothing on them and the uncomfortable chairs, but he always knew this space would be open since he reserved it for them every Tuesday night. He also appreciated the monitor hanging in front of the tables so he could display the maps and character art he did himself. Yes, they did trade in a very hot room in Hawkins for a very cold one in a basement, but everyone thought it was worth it.

Everyone began to filter into the room and take their respective seats at the long table. There was only one seat open since one of their former players, Ronnie, had transferred to another school at the end of the fall semester so her seat was being used by Jeff. Eddie is working quickly to pull up the necessary resources and load up the map they were using last week with twisting pathways and lakes of lava. He’s filtering out all the chatter around him in order to get everything set up as quickly as possible. Jeff sits down next to him with a box of pastries from the local Dunkin Donuts. They could usually get them for free in the evening since they were about to be thrown out and Jeff was friends with one of the cashiers.

“So… what happened to you?”

Jeff’s question is only heard by Eddie and Doug, Hellfire’s newest member. The rest of the club were busy getting their own materials out and digging dice out of their bags. Eddie could vaguely hear Gareth complaining about losing his own set and having to use one of the sets Eddie brought because ‘Munson always has the weirdest dice, I don’t want to spend tonight staring at dice with a bunch of tiny baby heads in them’. Without looking up from his laptop, Eddie simply replies, “I had a lab and lost track of time, that’s all.”

Jeff doesn’t believe any of this. He and Eddie had been friends since they were both gangly teenagers who got detention for trying to skip gym class. Jeff knew when Eddie was lying - Eddie would always bite at his lip when he wasn’t telling the truth. It wasn’t just a lab. Something must have happened.

Jeff begins to probe Eddie with questions. He knew the only way he’d get Eddie to confess to whatever was going on was by guessing until he got a reaction out of him.

“A lab, interesting… So you weren’t able to finish it in time and that made you late?” Eddie says nothing.

“Did you drop something and get in trouble?” Someone else almost did, but not him. No reaction.

“Did you eat something and get in trouble?” Eddie reaches over to the box of pastries and grabs a boston creme donut.

“Did you meet someone? You found your soulmate?” Eddie pauses as he’s sitting back down in his chair. Bingo. Jeff is shocked. Throughout all the years he had known Eddie, the man was never known to believe in love. There was a girl he met when he was 18 but that never worked out so Eddie assumed he’d live the life of a bachelor. He grew up with parents who hated each other and always seemed to be fighting so he never knew what a healthy relationship looked like. Whenever someone asked about his love life he would brush them off and say it just wasn’t for him. He said it so much that everyone couldn’t help but believe him.

“Oh my god, Eddie Munson is in love.” Jeff says this slowly with a shit-eating grin on his face. He also said this loud enough that everyone else in the room could hear him so all the conversations being held ended at once in favor of learning about this mystery person in Eddie’s life.

“You’re WHAT?”

“I didn’t know you were capable of that.”

“What are they like? What’s their name?”

The group questioning turned into an interrogation that yielded no results. Everyone only stopped once Eddie had finally located the music he needed and drowned their questions out with the sounds of a haunting violin, creaking, and muffled screams.

“Ok, so where were we? Uh, Tayr,” Eddie looks up at Jeff and points his pen at him, “you’re still imprisoned deep underground. You had 7 hit points when we last left off and you said you were planning to break both your ankles to get out of your shackles so I’m holding you to that.” Eddie then turns to Grant and Gareth who are looking annoyed that their friend is ignoring them, but he persists. He has a campaign to run. “Hylbaez, I believe you and Ariver were going to attempt horse stacking to get up to that open window. I don’t know how the two of you plan on doing that without your horses and how you’re gonna reach the 7th floor even if you had your horses with you. You’ve had a week to figure that out.” He looks over his notes one last time before looking up at the group. Nobody appears to be ready to play. No pencils in hand, only a few papers out. Hellfire won’t start until they get what they want. Eddie was really hoping they’d all drop the group questioning but that doesn’t seem like it’s happening anytime soon. With a huff, Eddie rubs his face and gives them all a look of resignation. “Okay, fine. You want to know? There was a girl that sat next to me. She complimented some character art that I’ve been working on and we talked about D&D for a while. I’m gonna try to get her number after spring break. THAT’S IT.”

It’s almost like everyone’s ears perked up when they heard him mention Dungeons & Dragons. Doug puts a hand up as if he’s in class and asks the question that everyone is thinking. “Are you going to invite her to join Hellfire?” It’s a question that Eddie had been asking himself on the hurried walk from class to the student center. Sure, the campaign they were playing had already begun but he could find a way to write you in. He knew he was a good storyteller so it would be a great way to impress you. Sure, he’s no Matthew Mercer or Brennan Lee Mulligan, but he never struggled to keep everyone’s attention and he’s proud of the stories he created.

“I’ll think about it.”

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It had begun raining by the time their session was concluded (the student center was closing) and the shuttles weren’t running tonight so Eddie had to make the mile trek on foot. He didn’t even care that the elevator was broken again. He’ll, he wouldn’t care if it was broken for the rest of the year because he’s pretty sure he found the love of his life today and nothing could dampen his mood. He rushed up the four flights of stairs and fumbled with his keys before coming inside and slamming the front door shut behind him. His backpack was thrown onto the floor with a wet fwump and his bomber jacket followed close behind as he hastily shucked it off him.

Eddie had a routine he usually followed after each Hellfire Club meeting. He would always change into his pajamas, heat up the food he had brought back from the dining halls and make that his dinner, and retreat into his room where he’d go over what happened during their session and tweak his plans for their next meeting if necessary. He did this every week for the past three years he’s been DMing at this school and the only time he ever broke this routine was during finals his freshman year where he was convinced he’d fail if he didn’t dedicate all his time to actually studying. This was the second time he would ever break that routine. Instead of making himself comfortable, he stormed down through their small living space and walked past his own room to barge into the other bedroom.

This was the second year that Steve roomed with Eddie and the first year that they got their own rooms. Since they were so used to sharing a room together, it was second nature for Eddie to rush straight to Steve when he had to tell him something. Thankfully for him, Steve never locked his door so Eddie was able to rush in unannounced and blurted out, “You will NOT believe what happened today!”

Steve was sitting at his desk, still dressed in his red school scrubs from his clinicals earlier in the day with his nose buried in his textbooks. His hair was tied back in a small ponytail, wearing his glasses, and headphones over his ears. When Eddie forced his way into the room, Steve nearly jumped out of his seat and ripped his headphones off his head and was glaring daggers at the other man.

“Do you ever learn to knock?” Eddie ignores the comment from Steve and goes to the other side of the small bedroom to sit down on Steve’s bed, still wearing his damp clothes and definitely tracking mud across the apartment. Steve is only angry for a moment until he sees the giant smile on his friends face. Eddie wasn’t exactly a grumpy person, but Steve hadn’t seen him smiling like that in a long time, probably not since Eddie got Metallica tickets from his Uncle Wayne as a graduation present. He was smiling so much that Steve was sure his face actually hurt. Eddie was beaming just like he was all those years ago.

Eddie’s leg began shaking from excitement as he began speaking, “I think I met my soulmate today. I was in my anthropology class and she sat down next to me and she’s perfect. I mean, first of all, she’s beautiful. She plays Dungeons and Dragons and we like the same music and she’s so fucking funny.” The metalhead then gets up from Steve’s bed and takes the few steps it takes to stand right in front of him. He’s wildly waving his hands around as he recalls everything that you two talked about during that lab. Steve swore Eddie didn’t stop to breathe even once during this entire recollection. As the story starts to wind down, Eddie removed his hair tie from his hair and ran his fingers through his dark locks. He sighs and says, “Honestly man, I didn’t think after Paige that I’d find anyone who I really connected with but she’s different. I don’t feel like I need to hold back when I’m talking to her.” Eddie finally stops talking and takes a breath before moving back to Steve’s bed and flopping down to lay on his sheets, wet hair and all.

Steve fully turns around to face Eddie with an impressed look on his face as he closes his books, asking the other, “I’m happy for you, man. So what’s her name? Did you get her number?” Eddie hears this and his eyes widen, opting to look up at the ceiling rather than Steve. He realizes his horrible, horrible mistake and is kicking himself for hurrying off rather than taking an extra minute to get your name and contact information. His silence prompts Steve to scoot closer in his chair as his tone turns more serious. “Eddie, did you get her number?” Silence. “Her instagram?” Silence. “Snapchat??” Eddie purses his lips, too ashamed to say anything. “Munson, did you get ANYTHING from her??”

Eddie groans and sits up now, rubbing his face and tries to defend himself. “Listen. I was going to be late to Hellfire and I didn’t want to listen to anyone complaining about being late so I just told her I’d see her after spring break. I wasn’t thinking straight! I swear I’ll get her number the moment I see her in two weeks.”

It’s now Steve’s turn to groan and he shakes his head, getting up from his chair and moving to sit next to Eddie and begins to try to reassure his friend, telling him, “Ok, here’s what we’re gonna do. There’s like a missing connections instagram page for the school. You just need to message them and tell them you want to find her and get her contact information. Maybe she’ll see it.”

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You spent the rest of the week hopelessly searching for Eddie in the massive crowds of students. There were a couple instances of spotting a head of curly brown hair only to be disappointed when you realize it’s not him. There’s about 40,000 students in this school so you wonder why you figured you could just find him casually walking around campus. Your roommate, Elena, suggested looking at your school portal page to see if you can find him on your class page but your professor didn’t enable the ‘Students’ section, only opting for pages that were vital in completing coursework. One of your friends spent two hours scouring Instagram and Facebook convinced that they could find Eddie but came up empty handed. You told everyone you knew what he looked like and what his name was, but he wasn’t in anyone’s classes or in anyone’s dorms. It was like he just vanished into thin air. Elena reassured you that you’d see him in two weeks so all you had to do was wait.

Your search was paused during spring break and put on an indefinite hold when things went downhill. People all over the world were getting sick and you watched in horror as the virus slowly creeped closer to your home state. Then into your county. Spring break was extended for an extra week as the school administration worked to find a solution to keep the staff and student body safe. Schools around the country were shuttering their campuses while yours promised in-person classes would resume shortly but they soon changed their mind. You received an email by week three stating the remainder of the semester would be spent online and you needed to pack up your dorm room. The administration was unable to confirm if you’d be returning to campus in the fall. At this point, both you and Eddie came to the conclusion that you’d never see the other person again and it would take a miracle for you two to reunite.

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I’m not sorry

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #scripsi #eddie munson series

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

Note

ooo, how about a bf alexia fic or blurb where they go out to celebrate a win and reader's just making small talk with a stranger while alexia's off somewhere else and then alexia just shows up at your side and quietly asserts that she's there and your hers. and after the stranger leaves, she gets all touchy and pouty because she just wants the readers attention

sixth sense II a.putellas

you smiled seeing alexia being pulled away to dance by jenni and laia very much so against her will, watching her head of pink hair dissapear into the crowd as you excused yourself from your conversation with alba and a few of the other girls to get another drink.

the small bar in sydney was packed out, spaniards, catalans and australians all dancing and cheering and celebrating spains world cup victory just two days prior.

it was the final night before the team flew back to spain for their welcome home ceremony and after a big group dinner with family and friends the majority of the team had moved on, eager to spend the final night they could celebrating in the foreign country.

you waited patiently for your turn, the poor barkeepers run off their feet by the very busy night, drumming your fingers against the wooden top of the bar, somewhat lost in your own world.

"so, family or friend?" you looked up hearing someone speak near you, meeting the amused eyes of a tall dark haired woman with a thick australian accent. "sorry?" you questioned with a surprised frown, unsure if you'd heard her correctly.

"you don't strike me as a footballer, you're not from around here because i'd have remembered your face and half of spain is in here right now. so, family or friend of the team?" the woman grinned, making a gesture toward the bartender who nodded and held up two fingers.

"are all australians so forward?" you laughed, a little taken aback by the womans reading of you. "only those who run and own bars." the woman grinned, the bartender dropping two drinks beside you as she grabbed one, holding it up and motioning you do the same.

"you own this?" you asked with wide eyes as she shrugged. "co-own if you ask the right person. like i said, i don't forget a face and i haven't seen most of them in here tonight before!" the woman grinned, again motioning you to pick up the drink beside you.

"to australia losing their home world cup and spain winning their first!" she cheered making you laugh again, clinking your glass against hers, not even entirely sure what you were about to drink but a little too tipsy already to think much of it.

alexia's friends would often tease she had a sixth sense and that it centered entirely around you, like a spidey sense but reserved for her girlfriend.

cold? she was offering you her jacket before you'd even shivered once. hungry? she'd already ordered extra food despite you saying you didn't want anything. stressed? your favourite movie was loaded and her arms were open and ready for you to take refuge in them.

which is why a strange sense settled over her on the dancefloor and alexia looked around, suddenly realising she couldn't see you anywhere as her brows furrowed. she ignored the teasing remarks from her team mates as she broke free from the pack of dancing bodies, her sister pointing her toward the bar where you'd wandered off to get a new drink.

alexia's jaw clenched as her eyes finally sought you out, laughing and speaking with a stranger who was a little too close to you for the spanish captains comfort.

you broke your attention away from your conversation feeling something settle around your neck, glancing down you saw your girlfriends world cup medal dangling by your chest.

her arm was next, toned and tanned it wrapped around your neck from behind and settled across your collar bones pulling your body into hers as she leaned across the bar, waving over the bartender and ordering a drink.

"hola mi vida." she murmured, kissing your cheek and trying to wave the bartender back over to pay, each subtle touch of hers screaming that you were taken.

her possesive nature was not lost on you or your new friend it seemed who smiled in amusement at the tall womans refusal to even acknowledge her, seeming as if she was unbothered though her body language said the complete opposite.

"not quite family and more than a friend then. enjoy the rest of your trip, on me!" the woman whose name you never even got smiled kindly, clinking her drink against alexia's who finally looked up and over toward her, too late now as the blonde melted away into the crowd.

"who was that?" your girlfriend asked with a frown, hold on you tightening as you managed to turn around and face her. "i never caught her name, she owns this though." you gestured around you as alexia hummed, sipping on her drink.

"you left me alone on the dance floor hermosa." the midfielder pouted making you smile. "you had plenty of people to dance with ale." you laughed, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"none of them are you though." she smiled charmingly as you sipped your drink with a small shake of your head. "you know she was just a stranger, si? i didn't even get her name, i did not want to." you assured, gently squeezing her bicep still seeing a far off look in her eyes you knew too well.

"she was a little too close to you mi amor. just because you did not want her name did not mean she did not want yours." alexia warned, pout yet again forming on her lips as a slight veil of jealously clouded her features.

"i think you made it very well known i was taken bonita." you smiled, toying with the medal around your neck as alexia shrugged innocently.

"it was just heavy princesa, it was your turn to wear it." the pink haired woman dismissed with a flirty grin as you playfully shoved her shoulder and she guided you back to the group, hand securely on the small of your back.

cheers greeted the two of you as you returned, alexia's attention immediately commanded again by her team mates who once more tried to twirl her off for a dance. but the catalan woman brushed them all off with ease, taking her seat and pulling you to sit on her lap before you could take yours.

alba's teasing not lost on your ears you smiled knowingly as your girlfriend became increasingly touchy, clearly a response to your attention being granted to someone else that evening if platonic or not.

"alexia!" you laughed as you reached for your drink, only for her hand to shoot out and grab it for you, moving it toward your mouth. "just looking after you mi corazón." she pouted, amusement clear in both of your eyes as yours rolled but you gave in, allowing her to bring the glass to your lips as the teasing remarks around you escalated.

for the rest of the night there wasn't a single moment that at least a few inches of your skin weren't touching alexia's, a moody pout or a kiss behind your ear from her all it took for you to deny someones offer to join them on the dance floor.

"ale, baby i have to pee." you chuckled as you tried to get up but she tugged you back down, arms circling your waist. "okay, i come with you." the girl decided as you stood and pushed her back down.

"i will be five minutes top mi amor. stay here with everyone!" you laughed, though of course she didn't listen, linking her hand with yours and nodding for you to walk.

"clingy." you teased as the door swung shut on the two of you. "do you want to hold my hand while i use the toilet too?" you mocked, your girlfriend shaking her head and dropping your hand, shooing for you to hurry up.

but before you could even step into the cubicle suddenly she'd grabbed you again, pulling you into a feverish kiss sending your head spinning before she was pushing you back toward the toilet with a happy grin on her face.

"hurry princessa, my hand is getting heavy and i need you to hold it."

#alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas #woso blurbs

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burrowdarling · 2 months ago

Text

"Don't act so innocent.."

Summary: As things get a little heated, you get the courage to ask for something new you want to try. Requested by @samanthamark5

Pairings: lsu!joe x shygf!reader

Warnings: oral (male receiving), praise, descriptions of sex, MDNI

Note: Hi! Here's the first request based off of this prompt list. It's very loosely LSU Joe if you squint, really just the fact that they're in college. I hope you all enjoy it! Requests for it are still open!

Word Count: 1.7k (this was meant to be a blurb, I might've gotten carried away..whoops)

Check out my Masterlist here!

Joe always had this presence about him, with him being the star quarterback of the football team for LSU. Everyone’s eyes were always drawn to him when he entered the room, in class or otherwise. That was especially not different when the two of you started dating. The spotlight was never really your thing, opting more for small groups of friends or staying in with your books. Being with Joe has started to push you out of your comfort zone, but that didn’t mean it was going to happen overnight. A prime example was the party that was happening tonight, which you were pleading to stay home from.

“C’mon baby, I wanna have my girl there with me” Joe pleaded.

“You know parties aren’t really my thing Joey, can’t I just wait here till you get back?” you pleaded back, just as whiney as he was being.

He didn’t give you an answer, just stared at you with a look that said ‘does it look like I want that as an option?’ Joe pushed off the door frame to his room and walked over to where you were sitting on his bed, your current read opened in front of you. He climbed onto it, crawling up to you until you were underneath him, tossing the book to the side in the process.

“Joe! I was in the middle of that, I didn’t even get to mark my page” you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed with all of the attention he was giving you.

You and Joe had been dating for a few months, but he had significantly more experience than you. Only having one real boyfriend before him, he wasn’t the most giving in the head department, nor did he ever really want anything from you. That relationship didn’t last long before he broke things off with you, proceeding to get with some cheerleader shortly after.

Joe has been tender with you, taking things at your pace and knowing when to test your limitations within reason. He knew your body better than you did, knowing how to get any type of reaction from you that he desired. He was extremely giving in bed, always making sure you were the first to finish. One thing you had yet to try together was you taking control for a change: giving Joe a blow job.

With his arms caging you in on either side of your head, his body weight pressing you down into the mattress, you felt stuck in the best way possible. Joe always knew how to get a reaction from your body. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of his erection through his jeans, causing your cheeks to flush and your mind race.

“Can you feel what you do to me, at least let me make you feel good before I leave. That way I can leave with the taste of you on my tongue” Joe said, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline, making his way to your lips.

It felt like now was as good of a time as any, trying to block out any of the anxious thoughts about what his reaction could be to your request. You tentatively reached your hand between your bodies, palming his hard on which earned you a deep groan from above.

“I wanna try something tonight instead” you said, your voice slightly wavering as you looked into his eyes peering into yours above you. The blue of his eyes was something you had grown to find a sense of comfort in.

“And what would that be, baby?” Joe said with a sense of care lacing his voice, a knowing smirk gracing his lips.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” you asked, feeling yourself wanting to abc out, to make the awkwardness go away.

“Mhm. If you wanna do it, I wanna hear you ask for what you want. It’s something we're working on, remember?”

You nodded shyly, remembering how Joe has made it his mission to bring up your self confidence. It started with some smaller tasks like asking for help when you needed it or not being scared to take charge of a situation. When you guys finally slept together, it’s since spread into the bedroom. Joe always makes sure you feel safe and secure, wanting you to always feel comfortable to tell him anything. He always wants you to ask for what you want and not be afraid to bring anything up.

“I’m not gonna say no sweetheart, I just wanna hear the words come out of your pretty mouth” Joe said, raising a hand to graze your cheek.

His words caused you to feel even more flustered, feeling the need for Joe growing by the second.

“I wanna try to blow you” you said, feeling the heat rise on your cheeks at your attempt to come off as confident as you could.

“Go right ahead, I won’t stop you” Joe said, moving off of you to lay back against the headboard next to you, slipping his shirt off in the process.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage and fighting down your insecure thoughts before exhaling and shifting closer to Joe. He helped you to work his pants down, leaving them at his ankles before kicking them off. You took his boxers with them knowing you needed to do it all in one go or you’d feel like you’d chicken out of the whole thing. The sight of Joe’s hard cock sent heat to your center, no matter how many times you’ve seen it before.

You took him in your hands, Feeling the nerves come across in your actions, Joe placed a reassuring hand on the back of your head as he directed you towards him for a kiss.

“No need to be nervous baby, it’s just me” Joe spoke gently, moving his hand to stroke your cheek lovingly.

WIth a nod of understanding, you took the leap and leaned down to place a kiss to the tip. You took him in your mouth the best you could, using your hand for what you couldn’t fit.

“You’re doing such a good job, babe. Know how to make me feel so good” Joe moaned, head thrown back in pleasure.

The sounds Joe was making above you were egging you on, taking in all of the praises that were coming from him. You continued to take him, getting past the awkward feeling of having him in your mouth fairly quickly. You would occasionally pop off to lick a stripe from his base to the tip before taking him again.

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that baby, I swear” Joe groaned.

You took that as your cue to keep going, knowing that you were bringing him pleasure.

“Where do you want me to finish?” Joe rushed out, clearly feeling close to the edge,

You came off of him, continuing to stroke him as you spoke. You were taking the moment to use your last bit of courage to ask for what you wanted.

“Right here” you said gesturing to your chest with a glimmer of lust in your eyes, earning a deep groan from him in response.

You knew how much Joe loved your boobs, mentioning in the past that this was something he’d love to do when the time felt right to do it. You slipped off the bed to the floor, getting on your knees ready to take what he would give you before he could give you a proper response. Joe took over then, giving you the opportunity to prepare yourself. You slipped your shirt off, trying to not feel so exposed in front of him in the position you were in. The sight of him standing above you stroking his cock drove you wild, it felt as if all of your insecurities had flown out the window in that moment. With a few more strokes, Joe was finishing with a loud moan, covering your chest.

Joe sat on the edge of the bed, taking a minute to compose himself. Before he could make any other moves towards you, you stood up in a hurry.

“I’ll be right back, i’m just gonna go to the bathroom” you rushed out and made your way quickly, attempting to fight off any other insecure thoughts before they could come up as you felt your shyness creeping back in. You heard a faint ‘okay’ as you shut his bathroom door.

You walked out of the bathroom after getting cleaned up, your cheeks hot showing the brightest shade of red from everything that had just happened. You stood timidly in the door of the bathroom while Joe sat on the edge of his bed on his phone. You didn’t know exactly where you stood at this moment, wondering if he would stay or go out. You secretly hoped he would opt to stay with you, but wouldn’t want to force him even after everything. You felt too tired after all of that to go out and be social with other people, especially ones you didn’t know. He had pulled his underwear back on, leaving him clothless otherwise. When he heard you, his eyes looked up and a smile crossed his face.

“I hope you have fun. Can you let me know when you’re on your way, if you remember?” you spoke, unsure of where to put your eyes.

Joe walked over to you, placing a hand under your chin to lift your eyes to meet his own. A shiver ran down your spine at the look in his eyes.

“Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago” Joe said with a teasing smirk on his lips.

He placed a kiss on your forehead, his other hand falling to your hip. You cheeks felt as if they were the brightest shade of red they had ever been, letting the images of the past few moments replay inside your head. You felt a shiver creep up your spine as your need for him came back full force.

“If you think I’m leaving after that and not giving you anything, we’ve got a lot more work to do with you”.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #nfl imagine #joe burrow imagine #shy!reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow lsu

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puckinghischier · 4 months ago

Note

hi!! first off, i just want to say that i really love your work. i’m so so glad i found your blog. i just reblogged this quinn blurb of yours (which i’m obsessed with btw)

i was wondering if you’d ever be up to expanding on any of the aspects of it. for example; quinn seeing a guy flirt with you in the stands while he’s playing.. when the game was over what do you think that looks like? would say something to his girl and/or show her more with actions than words? or when he sees how excited she is to see him when he’s ready to head home is he just going to let it go? <- y’know like her smile’s able to erase damn near any negative feelings he’s having. playing on when you said about his girl being able to turn him to mush 🥹

✶₊˚⊹ apologies for the length of this.. when i get excited about something i tend to ramble. also, feel free to ignore this or keep it for later if you’d want. no worries either way ‹𝟹

oh i would absolutely love to expand on that

i don’t think he would dwell on it too much, honestly. because he does trust you and he knows that when you come to his games you’re watching nothing but him, but i think he would be a lil smug about it and the fact you never give them attention like you do him.

his eyes would find you as soon as he walks out of the locker room, ready to take you home and order a post game dinner while watching whatever series the two of you get sucked into on netflix.

you’d be talking to conor, just chatting casually, always having been close with him since you started dating quinn.

too distracted to realize he’s walking towards you, he walks up and engulfs you in a hug from behind.

“Q!!” you’d squeal, laughing as conor takes that as his cue to leave, saying a short goodbye and offering a small wave.

turning around in his arms, you come face to face with your slightly damp and scruffy looking boyfriend, loving his post-shower appearance after every game.

“enjoy the game?” he asks, admiring the joy on your face that only he seems to bring out.

“duh! you scored twice, how could i not?”

quinn’s ego inflates three sizes, remembering what spurred the second goal.

“oh, speaking of, who was your new friend tonight? sure you don’t want me to just buy out the seats next to you every game?” he’d only half joke, not letting you know he has genuinely thought about it before.

you rolled your eyes at him, swatting his chest. “just some chad, brad, or whatever else people name their overly confident, dickish sons.”

your words cause alarm bells in quinn’s brain, his tone suddenly turning serious. “what do you mean by ‘dickish’? did he get handsy? say something to you? do i need to make a call to make sure he never steps foot in this arena again?”

“no! no, nothing like that. he was harmless, just thought he could impress the pretty girl next to him with all kinds of hockey talk,” you’re quick to explain, watching quinn’s jaw visibly relax. “most of which he had wrong, by the way,” you continue. “but then he asked if i was here alone, and i told him no, that my boyfriend was on the ice, but he didn’t believe me. especially not when i told him it was you, the captain of the team.”

it was quinn’s turn to roll his eyes. people never tend to believe you when you tell them he’s your boyfriend, considering you two have kept your relationship decently private. if anything, they shouldn’t believe you’re his girlfriend, still shocked at how he managed to snag someone so out of his league.

“then, after you scored he made some stupid comment about ‘aren’t you going to congratulate your boyfriend?’ as if i had a direct line to you on the ice or something,” you kept explaining to him, causing him to recall the sour look on your face when he was watching you from the bench.

he kept seeing the man turn to you and make comments, figuring he was trying to get you to engage with him. you ignored him, though, giving him side glances every few minutes with a look of annoyance.

“but, after you came over and did your ‘sweetheart’ celly, he finally shut up and left me alone,” you giggled, referencing the goal celebration quinn coined for you. he’ll skate over to the glass where you sit, pretending to lick all five of his fingers as if he’s cleaning ‘sugar’ off of them, then points to you and draws a heart in the air before skating away with a wink.

quinn smiles in triumph, happy that his plan worked.

after watching the scene you just explained play out, he knew he needed an excuse to show some big display of affection so your seat mate would get the hint. so, he turned the dial up to ten and was taking every shot he could.

he hopes the glare he gave the man as he skated away from you was partially to thank, too. even though the second he saw your excitement-filled cheering for him, the man beside of you was (mostly) forgotten.

“well, i hope he realizes you only go for guys who can score both on and off the ice,” he winks down at you, knowing his choice of words was corny, but they succeeded in coaxing out the sweet sound of your laughter that he wanted needed to hear.

he loves knowing that you only get this giggly and carefree with him; knowing that he’s the one that gets to take you home each night. the security he feels in your relationship is unlike anything he’s ever known, blown away at how fully and wholly you love him, always hearing you tell everyone who will listen to you when you think he’s not paying attention.

even if he does manage to get grumpy and annoyed when people flirt with you during games or when you’re out with the team, he knows you never even give them the time of day. every time he catches himself staring daggers at someone, all he finds when he looks at you is your pretty eyes already trained on him, making him forget about any ill feelings he has harbored in his chest, just like tonight.

“alright, captain jealousy, let’s get home so we can eat, i’m starving. i was thinking sushi and gilmore girls, what do you think?” you suggest, grabbing his hand and starting the familiar trek to the car garage.

quinn groans, hating how much you love the annoying mother daughter duo, mentally preparing himself for the hours of torture ahead of him, knowing he doesn’t stand a chance of changing your mind.

#alliyaps #feel like this isn’t exactly what you asked for #but this is where my brain brought us 😌#also ily ur so sweet #obsessed w/you actually #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x y/n #qh43 #nhl blurb

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anaconamor · 10 months ago

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star night - jb blurb

masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: wow. what a week of ucl football! congratulations to all the teams that qualified 🤍 here's a tiny blurb with jude after his win yesterday as requested!! so proud of this man guys i can't :((

the strands on the bottom of your scarf had become your best friend throughout the game. making small knots or twisting strands together. nervous was one way to describe how you felt, but the huge bubble and pit in your tummy said more. covering your eyes when attempted goals were made, and gasping out reliefs when they were saved.

it was a total of 120 minutes, played, and in the end, penalties would determine who would advance. your eyes were glued onto the familiar tall figure, the 5 on the back, the one player who proved their worth after many talks and banters. you could tell he was tired, though he gave it his all.

the stadium went quiet for you, and all you heard was the rapid pulse in your veins as seconds passed. agony, cheers, tears, and laughter. it felt surreal, time went slow, and all you could focus on was him celebrating on the pitch, brown eyes gleaming with delight and relief as his team passed onto the next round.

he was over the moon, clapping, dancing, singing, hugging his teammates, just overridden with emotion. your eyes locked almost immediately, jude not being able to hide a big smile on his lips when seeing you. you waited by the rails, holding a towel and a jacket for him.

jude engulfed you into a tight and rushed hug, out of breath from running on pure adrenaline. you could feel the rapid heartbeat of his against your chest, his jersey clanging tight after running all evening. you laughed, cleaning his neck, sides, and face that glistened with sweat. "we did it baby... we did it," was all jude said as he leaned his forehead onto yours.

you held his face, kissing the bridge of his nose, "you did my love. i'm so so proud of you, look around and take it all in." jude couldn't help but dig into your neck, shoulders shaking as he let himself full relax against you. you could hear a small sniffle, jude pulling back, your thumbs catching the tears, and wiping them away from his pretty face. "i can't- i don't know how to feel. it happened so fast!" exclaimed your boyfriend in disbelief.

"what matters is that you did it, all the way to the end. you made history here tonight, keep it in here," you touched his temple, "and feel it here," placing your palm over his heart. "i love you y/n so much," he relished your love, wanting to stay here with you and never go back. he would die a happy man after this moment. "thank you for being with every time, between the good in the bad. you're the best thing that has ever happened to me, pretty girl."

neither of you could care less about the cameras, stares, or shouts from fans. this was his moment with you, and jude had just that. you held the back of his head, thumb brushing his nape, as all you could do was stare deep into each other's eyes with smiles as if you were kids at a candy store. "kiss me, kiss me y/n," pleaded your boyfriend, closing his watery eyes as you pulled him into a welcoming kiss.

lips molding as you let every sentiment of stress and anxiety from the game fly away. tasting his minty scent, as he deepened the kiss, his hand wrapped around your waist, and one holding your face, just like in the movies, except this was reality. you pulled back and kissed all over his face, jude shutting his eyes tight and crinkling his nose in bliss as you congratulated him.

"congratulations my golden boy."

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine

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lucrativesoul · 18 days ago

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Fresh Meat

summary: when fear of a dangerous animal hits your small home village, outsider Leon joins the team to help them take on the hunt. the lurking creature is not the only secret hiding in the forest.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 14.8k

tags/warnings: fantasy/sci-fi, mentions of animal death, vague smut (non-explicit), questionable consent

a/n: let's hear it for me returning ! if you read the blurb i posted along with the sneak peak of this fic, yes, it is very plot heavy, and by the time i got to the end where the smut would have been, i decided a full fledged sex scene felt very out of place in this. so, i did omit details but there is still something at the end, so i apologize for anyone who reads for that purpose alone. i have an idea for my next one, so i will make it more worth it next time, lol. anyways, if this is up your alley, i hope you enjoyed it and i will see you all when i come back with another one!!

The rabbit was still warm when it showed up at your front door.

It was an odd hour for someone to be out hunting, but with the sun getting ready to enter a state of near dormancy for four months, you took it as a sign that someone was trying to keep your small population fed for the winter.

Bringing the crate with a small, bloodstained bundle into your home, you pondered about who had left this here for you. You were fairly certain that your neighbors were all still home, either that or they were only just now helping dock the ship that arrived with grain. They had been known to occasionally leave you with an animal, but it was usually in the early hours, and the wind chill would lower the carcass’s temperature significantly before you could rouse and bring it in.

Nonetheless, you didn’t strain yourself over it, as acts of kindness regarding food supply were warmly welcomed before the darkness settled in.

This winter was much like the ones you had seen before–adults of the town strapping down their own food supply, whether that be buried in the ground or in an underground cellar if their cabin was big enough, the children running around only during peak hours when the air was just warm enough that the wind wouldn’t sting when it hit you, and carriages full of leaking meat ready to be skinned and fileted arrived, preparing to be stored with whatever else could last through the winter.

This was routine now, and a small gift like a warm rabbit to eat for the night was one you would not turn down any time soon.

You looked over the animal; the fur was clean, the kill was neat, and it didn’t look harmed. Job well done. You hoped it didn’t suffer for long. As a token of thanks for it, you would save the pelt for a cowl.

You had a decent sized storage for food this winter, you were only feeding yourself and you could survive off of the grains and winter vegetables that were available for as long as you could. Saving the rabbit would be nice, but you knew the winter market would be held shortly, and that is when you did your stockpile. This one would be tonight’s treat.

Leaving the creature on the counter, you whisked yourself over to the front door, sliding your arms into a big woolen coat, your feet into boots, and shoved your hands into your pockets to make the quick walk across the square to your acquaintance’s home. Hissing when the cold made your eyes water, you latched the door shut and raised your shoulders, bringing the collar of the coat up to protect your neck. Such a quick walk made the full winter apparel unnecessary, though at times you do wish it wasn’t so painstaking to put on. The walk would be much better if you weren’t contorted to stay warm.

The sound of the gravel under your feet mixed with the children yelling at one another as they ran around, dodging and weaving wagons and carriages coming into the square. You almost shouted a warning to them, fearing they would get hurt by the large wheels or the horses’ hooves, but selfishly enough, you were too cold to make any extra effort. You knew the other women of the commune were smart enough to do it themselves, you just liked going the extra mile to help neighbors.

The house you were seeking arrived at once. Quickening your pace, you jogged up the jagged walkway of stone and rapt on the door four times. You heard the sound of thundering steps on wood floors within, and the door opened instantly and you walked inside without waiting for verbal permission.

This was your closest ally's house; neither of you were to need permission to enter under any circumstance, though knowing her family was home, you had the kindness to knock anyway. Being a solo woman of the town meant you spent the majority of your time helping her and her family, as you were well off enough with supplies to keep yourself alive. Today was no different, and with her husband out in the woods lowering the population of multiple woodland inhabitants for the winter market, she could use the extra person to run the home for the night.

You shed your coat and propped it up by the door, quickly unlacing your boots and doing the same to them. You followed her wordlessly to the kitchen, not needing instruction.

“I’m worried,” She then said timidly, and you had to turn around from your position at the chopping block to be sure you heard her correctly.

“Worried, did you say? What for? You know he’s out there doing just fine, every market always keeps you all well fed, warm, and whatnot. Is it the children? Have they become interested in wanting to go?”

You recall her confiding in you that she was anxious of the day her children were old enough to want to follow their father into the woods to join the group of their annual winter gathering. She knew her husband would teach them right, and you had no doubt they were being raised as well mannered children, eventually able to handle firearms for this purpose, but naturally, her mother's instinct would kick in.

“No, not quite…” She paused a moment, opening the floor hatch and pulling up their storage box with chilled greens for supper. You walked over and took a cabbage, placing it back on your board. The cold made your fingertips ache. “I believe this won’t be a great season. He’s told me there’s oddly less game this year than the previous few.”

You furrowed your brow at this. “Well, I suppose it can’t be great every season, no? You know how much you need now, and his catch will be able to provide you with that and more.”

She sighed. “Yes, but… they are growing now. It takes more to feed them. The cold feels like it lasts a lot longer than it used to.” She began chopping, her knife making rhythmic knocks against the wooden slab. You cut your own cabbage in half, leaving it open by the stove to thaw the center.

“I think you’ll be alright. You have the support when you need it, I always have the extra to spare for you.” You looked over at her earnestly, and before she could reply, you both hushed as the door swung open. Seeing it was just one of her three children, she ushered him off into the main room to warm up, not before chastising him about being outside with barely enough on. She shook her head as she walked back into the kitchen.

“They don’t ever listen about their heavy coats. I can’t make them learn.” She sighed again and looked back over at you. “And don’t be ridiculous, please. You need your food.”

You breathed a small laugh. “I’m well off enough to keep myself going with what I have. One small deer is a month of meals for me, you know that. Let me go back to my house, I have a fresh rabbit, we will eat it tonight. I’d rather share it.”

She turned her head sharply, but not out of scorn. “Fresh? From who? No one has come back yet. You certainly didn’t go out.” You laughed again at this, knowing she meant no insult by it.

“I really don’t know. It wasn’t there this morning when I went to the well. I don’t even remember what I was doing in between this time, I had nothing to prepare, I was waiting for the men to come back with meat. I opened my door for something, I don’t even remember what, I just did. And it was there, in a crate.”

She halted her chopping, staring off, pondering. “You didn’t miss it this morning? You know there’s those few that get the dawn’s catch.”

You shook your head, peeling back layers of cabbage that were thawed enough now, pausing to warm your fingertips in the pockets of your apron, loaned by your friend. “Couldn’t have missed it… didn’t see a single soul walk by my window all morning.”

Silence fell between the two of you, and you knew she was also wondering where this could have come from, knowing every man that hunted in the village was not to return until almost sundown with their catches. After a while, she just shrugged.

You nodded your head in agreement. “Meat is meat. Here, let me go get it, I’ve just been letting it sit. This needs to thaw more anyways.” You abandoned your station and walked over to the door, re-suiting up for the walk back. You heard her footsteps behind you. “Would you like the children in? I know they should be all coming back soon, the last thing they would need right now is children becoming more stones under the horses hooves.”

She hummed from behind you. “Yes, that would be great, they should have been back an hour ago now.”

Having fastened the last button on your coat, you swung the door open. The sky was quickly descending to a deeper shade of gray, indicating the sun was setting against a clear sky the town has not seen in months now. You were about to turn and give her another verbal confirmation of finding her remaining two children when a loud cry from the square stopped you. You turned, and you felt your friend step out to watch as well, unable to ignore the sudden break of the square’s silence.

“I… I’ll go see what’s going on, stay here.” You took a step down and crunched the earth under your boot.

“Nonsense.” She turned to grab her own coat off the hanger, and she shouted inside at her one child home to stay put and not to move. You both hurriedly walked further into the commotion, the other townsfolk creating a barrier around the one who shouted. A break in the human wall opened up, and you were on the outer ring watching the drama unfold.

The man, who undeniably drew attention as he was on his knees and had his hunting gloves ripped off, blood drying and cracking over his cold hands, was recognizable as a man of the hunting group that was soon to be back with their catch for the upcoming market. You looked around as much as you could, past the opposite wall of people concerned for what he was going to say, but you did not see any other carriages arrive with any game. In fact, you did not see even his.

You heard him mumbling something to himself, and one of the elder councilmen came over and took a knee beside him, desperate to figure out what was troubling him. You watched, tense, as they spoke, nods and headshakes and gestures of confusion being traded between them. The anxiety of it all made you forget the rapidly dropping temperature.

The councilman suddenly stood, putting a hand on the man’s shoulders, but he shook it off. You gasped, worried for a violent outbreak that you were sure the whole town wanted to avoid.

The man stood on his own now, free from what he deemed and feigned support from the councilman.

“I am not saying these things to place fear!” You were shocked at the booming delivery of his statement. Everyone was silent now, not expecting the situation to take the turn it did. “I witnessed it on my own, and though no one else but me did, it does not mean what I saw was not real! Who knows how close it will get to us? Who knows if it will stop not only at our game but turn us into its own?!”

If the air could somehow grow colder, it did in that moment. You, obviously, as well as the other nearly hundred people surrounding the man, had no idea what he was letting on about, but the sound of what he was saying plus his strained, clearly fearful tone was enough to put you on edge as well.

You felt your friend grip your wrist–you were sure she was suddenly fearful for her husband, who could have been in the way of whatever monstrosity this man claims to have seen. You weren’t sure you even wanted to know yourself.

“Nonsense!” Another elder walked into the circle and up to the man, gripping his shoulder suddenly and speaking to him closely, the words undecipherable. Your attention was diverted to the right, where the elder had come from, the sounds of hooves clopping and wheels churning over rock growing louder. The hunters had come back, and surely someone had filled the rest of the councilmen in on what was going on. Whether or not the townsfolk would also be filled in, remained the question.

“Everybody!” One of the hunters strode into the center, whom you recognized as their lead, bringing quiet amongst the curious whispering. “I apologize on the behalf of my team for invoking any sort of fear just now. We had a… peculiar encounter on our journey today. With market approaching, the stress of needing a hefty catch along with the preparation of rationing for the hibernating months takes a toll on all of us, some more than others.” He projected his voice with ease, breath coming off in plumes of translucent steam. The scene was entirely chiaroscuro from the rapidly dimming sky and the square lamps up above. “A quick dash by a wolf may scare some of us if we did not see the beast to begin with. Rest assured, we have returned unharmed, and the market will commence this upcoming weekend with enough game for each family’s share. Goodnight!”

Though a few patrons on the outside of the circle began to disperse, you could see that many did not want to, as drama such as what just transpired was not common in this village. There were no liars, or dramatics, and if there were, it was taken care of so fast that news never got its chance to travel to you. The crowd thinned, but you and your friend stayed put, watching the wagons roll in with slumped deer, hanging rabbits and flayed birds. You felt her grip loosen when her husband sat atop his own wagon now rolling in behind the rest, but you were watching the silent scene happening beyond the newcomers.

The man who had drawn the crowd was speaking, in what looked to be a rather tense manner, to the man who addressed the audience. Speaking to him as if he betrayed his word, as if he were calling him a fool, or a liar. Whatever was being exchanged between the two was not that of civil camaraderie, but something eager to be settled and swept away. Whatever the intended goal of the man's words to dispel the crowd were, you knew the effect was opposite on you and many others standing around. You knew you would be thinking about it until the market has come and gone, and possibly until whatever threat was out there was defeated.

–

Dark corners of your house had you jumping like never before, even when you could walk through it with a blindfold on, and backwards.

Admittedly, though being half-heartedly reassured that what he saw out there was nothing more than an unfortunately large wolf, your aquaintance’s husband was kind with his intentions in not spreading a mass hysteria, which he claimed was going to happen if no one tried to counter the claim made in the square the night prior.

The crowd dispersed not too long after that, and after hearing that you were offering up your own portion of meat to share with a family of five, her husband insisted you kept it for yourself, and you joined them for a cut of fresh venison that he just secured that day.

Though you were now fed for the night and had the animal to spare for the next few, it did you little good in resting your growing worries about a potential danger outside of the town. You knew the men go far to hunt, further each day to find greater populations, but who knew how fast it was? Who knew how strongly it would be drawn to a whole commune of people? Was it carnivorous? Was it big enough to eat a human? Ravage a whole town?

You knew these worries were now getting out of hand–if this were the case, hunting season for the market was about to end and every man willing to kill an animal would be at every corner of the town. But whatever was living in the forest was well adapted to roaming in the dark…

You slept after a while, only after making sure multiple times that the door was locked and the windows bolted tightly. Your heart rate increased at the squeaking floorboards, sounds you were well accustomed to, sounds that now felt like they were intrusions. You now wish you had not gone out to your home that night, if you hadn’t heard this yourself, if you only heard of what went down from someone else, you would have been much more comfortable. But having been there, having heard his tone, your skin would not settle.

And truth be told, you believed what he claimed. Granted, what he was claiming was very vague, and no one had anything better to clear it, but it took a very skilled trickster to sound that convincing. You knew it was no lie.

Knowing there was no one else to turn to for this, though, you had to live as if that is exactly what it was. A deception, an illusion, a truly unfortunate mistake. What else?

This is what you repeated to yourself all day. An emergency would have been declared by now, and the men went out hunting at dawn like they always did during this season. Things were fine. It would be taken care of, you had to believe it.

The next day brought the same as yesterday, minus the showcase. The men left once again for hunting, and you were popping around the square finding neighbors to help them prepare for either their market stall or their rations for the freeze. The incident was mostly off of your mind while you stayed busy, but it was brought back to the forefront once again when the horses pulled their wagons in much too early, and the men rounded the square in what looked to be a secret meeting.

Like the previous day, minus the crowd, everyone around the town fulfilling their own chores stopped and stared, knowing this was out of the ordinary for any hunting season. There would be no reason for the men to return early, and there was a next-to-zero chance that there was no game frotting about in the forest.

You grew cold, a sensation unrelated to the weather surrounding you, the type of cold that traveled through your veins and wrapped around your bones. You recalled what your friend had said over the vegetables yesterday, “I am worried… He’s told me there’s oddly less game this year than the previous few.”

Could that be the issue at hand? Were there really no animals left to catch? Couldn’t be… this had never happened, and you knew the whole commune was conscious about their meat intake, giving the populations the whole year to recover their numbers, and the men chose different cardinal directions to travel each season; it seemed impossible. And yet, why were they back with empty carriages?

You spotted your friend’s husband among the men, and felt a surge in your curiosity. You gently parted from the mother you were helping to carry in grain and stalked over, your footsteps becoming quicker with each strike to the ground.

You called out to him and he turned, not being a part of the group conspiring with the councilmen.

“What is it? This can’t be good.” Your breath was ragged from your pace in the biting weather. That, and the addition of anxiously waiting for the answer.

He shook his head and looked around. “I… I don’t know what I can say. There was…” He paused for a moment longer than needed. You nearly shoved him to get it out. “A beast.”

You would have gasped had the air not stung your windpipe. The shock felt like one of the horses had slammed right into you, and yet, you felt as if you knew this would be the answer all along. You believed the man yesterday, no one here had any good reason to lie about the safety of the home he resided in. The thought of that was absurd.

“There was another encounter by multiple of us this morning, it ran off very quickly, but there was carnage.” This time you really did gasp, but he raised a hand to cut off any interjections. “No men down, it was eating deer. But we walked around the area it was found once it put acres between itself and us, and there were carcasses everywhere. It was eating what we could be eating. That is what has been affecting our numbers.”

And thus, your friend was right. He must have been seeing this all winter so far to clue her in on his personal conspiracy, and here it was being proven true. A skilled hunter he was, he would surely notice when count was declining.

“What was it?”

He was silent for even longer this time, and you were unsure what to make of it. Once he spoke, it was not words you were expecting to hear.

“It was no wolf. Please, don’t spread it, I’m sure they will come up with some creature to tell everyone, but, I trust you’ll keep my word. It was uncanny. Quadrupedal like wolf, fur standing on end down its back, muzzle black and leather with blood over its body, but it ran like a man. It scaled trees with inches long claws, it had no howl of a wolf, it was so deep, an octave no human could dream of reaching. I felt it in my chest. My eardrums were going to rupture, I was sure of it.”

You stood still, sure your body had turned to stone. There was no way the words he was speaking were true, but the situation holds solid here as well: why would he lie? This man knew you well, you were always round their house to share meals and extend help, he wouldn’t think about putting an irrational fear into you. It made no sense. Yet, that meant this is truly what he had seen…

“Do not say a word… I know they will tell the town something else but someone must know what I have seen. You understand…”

You did understand, after all, how could he burden his wife with the knowledge of what he had seen? She would become eternally frightened, she would never let her children outside, possibly never want him to partake in a hunt again. You decided to bear this weight with him, it was the least you figured you could do.

“We crossed a squadron of men from another town, out east. We told them we were having some… trouble. They confided in us the same. They did not give away any details but I’m sure that they saw the same creature. Anyway… they offered to help us hunt it down. They should be arriving shortly.” He paused again and looked around. The group of men was now thinning, and you saw many looked to be in distress. You did not know what you could do for them, or for the safety of the community. “It’s safe right now while we are all here, but once we depart again go right back inside, you know.” He stalked away from you to join the rest of the men still discussing with one another. You sighed.

You felt no better knowing this now, obviously; you had to move with caution and you could not take any chances. You didn’t often leave your home during the winter once the sun had set but now you must be certain to remember it. This would be a tough winter, and you hoped the hunters would have it taken care of immediately.

In no world did you think such a beast would exist. You weren’t even sure what to call it, how to describe it. The closest word, without having seen this cosmic beast, was werewolf; you knew there were some legends of werewolves existing within this region, but these are oral tales passed down to scare children into staying in their houses at night and to not run off too far during the day. Tales made to keep them obedient, they were not supposed to be warnings.

Swallowing the lump of fear now present in your chest, you returned to your duties, saying not much at all when asked what was going on. You kept your word, and besides, who would believe you?

Working away the thoughts, they were once again drawn back to the present when the sound of heavy footfall echoed from a trail between town buildings. You looked up and waited for the sound to grow closer. The hunters all convened at the moment they heard it as well, and there entered another 20 or so men from what you assumed was the eastern town that he had been telling you about. They didn’t look much different from the men of your village, save for their primary choice of hide was a deeper brown than your town’s standard tan.

You felt a slight weight off your shoulders at the sight of all of the men, equipped with their individual weapons slung across their shoulders, but you worried for their safety once they were set out on their mission to defeat the beast.

More talking and strategizing ensued, and you stood to the side to watch them sort themselves out into small groups, presumably to cover area faster. While scanning the tableau, your eye caught a sight of your friend off to the side, two of her children huddled behind her large skirt. You padded over to them.

Once you approached, speaking in a hushed tone, you addressed her, “This is the state of things then?”

She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t believe it. If they find nothing until the market, most of the catch from yesterday will be ours. We don’t even know how much we will be able to trade off. Not like this…” You turned to look back at the men. There were five groups now, and one was making their way over to where the two, or four, of you stood. Her husband was at the front.

They spoke together softly for a moment, and you took the time to discreetly survey the rest of the men who followed him over.

Again, they all looked similar to your eyes; similar stature, and dress, and they resembled those of your own village as well. You figured that luck was somewhere among the indescribable chaos they witnessed to have run into reinforcements.

He started talking to you, and you noticed a few of your other neighbors were standing by. He was introducing them all by first name and their village. All standard, you expected this if there were going to be nearby.

There were 6 men to this group total, four of them being strangers. “You’ll see us around, so don't hesitate to also ask for our help,” One of them spoke, voice much deeper than the man you were familiar with. “We are stronger as a unit.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, holding in the cold, and also seeking some inner comfort, as the severity of the situation was starting to dawn.

You were about to walk away and lock up at home when a voice interrupted, “Excuse me. I am late… I apologize. I have been added to your group.”

The group of men parted as they turned around to stare at the newcomer, who you could only assume was someone from their village. They were absurdly quiet for the first moment, letting him take the spotlight from the others.

This man looked nothing like an ordinary villager.

While the men surrounding you were equipped with thick hide jackets lined with fur for warmth and the most contrast to be seen on them was the white trim to their dark hair, this man stood out and would possibly never blend in. He had a deep blue jacket, buttoned and belted together, looking like it awfully lacked in layers, yet he gave no sign of being cold at all. His black pants were accessorized with pockets up and down both legs, and he wore black leather boots, the kind you only saw in mainland areas much further south. He did not get any of this dress from here, nor within hundreds of miles from anywhere around here.

After scrutinizing his wardrobe, you raised your eyes to await the next words he spoke. Yet, the looks of his face solidified the fact that this man was not only not a villager, he was certainly no native to these areas.

His hair, compared to everyone’s around, was a shocking deep blonde, a hair color you hadn’t seen in years, and had only seen on young children. He was uncharacteristically clean, no signs of having been hunting at all this day, and while most men chose to sport thick facial hair for weather protection, only the light skin and harsh contours of his face were present. And his eyes… those bright blue eyes…

They locked on yours. Heat seared through your veins, the rings of your vision fuzzed, the sky whited out, blood was racing into your head then back out, a wave of dizziness hit you at full force, your fingers went numb then regained feeling all at once, your chest constricted, your knees were about to give out–then he looked away. The chill of the winter returned. You were standing on solid ground.

You were breathless. No one seemed to notice any shift in the atmosphere, except for you. Your hands clutched your jacket even tighter.

“Where are you coming from? I know of no towns that look like… not us.” One of the men said, avoiding the obvious state that he was clearly not local.

“No, I am not from here. I am from much further north. I was passing by and heard word that there was a hunt that needed assistance and… I have no further pressing issues. I am dedicating myself to your cause. My name is Leon.”

Voice like butter, it slid through your ears and caressed your brain, Leon stood with a confidence unknown to you. He held himself as if he were the biggest man in the town and to you, it appeared he was, standing at least 3 inches or more above everyone in this commune. This man was an enigma. Leon was a complete mystery to behold.

“Well,” Your friend’s husband spoke from next to you, making you jump slightly, forgetting he was even involved with this. “We are glad to have you then, Leon. We hope to have this under control within the next few days, we need to keep our market tradition alive.” He clapped the other men on the back and they huddled once again, ready to take off until evening.

You breathed in deeply, not feeling any pain you may have expected. You figured you were suddenly feeling down, from what, who knew, but you were not well. You turned to your friend.

“I… I am not feeling too well, I think I am going to go for the night. I would stay, but I don’t think I should.” Your voice felt feeble, but she seemed to detect no indifference.

“Oh, are you sure? I can bring you what we have left, don’t stress yourself.”

You shook your head. “No, no, don’t worry about me, I have plenty. I need to lay down. Thank you, though.” With a nod from her, you turned your back on her and speed walked across the square, ducking through all of the patrons standing around just as confused as you felt earlier. There was still confusion, but for an entirely different reason.

Who was Leon? There was no way he was simply passing through from a village up north, which introduced more confusion into the equation, because it certainly did not explain the dress. Why would he be dressed for much higher temperature climates up north? There was just no reason…

And those sensations… they were unexplainable to you, yet you had to write them off as coincidence of timing, the shock of seeing the newcomer, some other third party element that caused you to take ill. There was no other way to explain it. It was a mix of unfortunate timing, and he was another man helping the search to keep the grounds safe. Just another man.

But that face was persistent behind your eyelids.

–

The men set out on the hunt officially the next day.

They spent the previous night mapping out routes and directions that each of them would take to avoid overlap and to cover as much area as possible. Your friend came by your house that morning to check on you; she relayed the information her husband had told her later that night, and you felt at least relieved that they were getting out there.

That night you were restless, you tossed and turned and were certain that you got little to no sleep at all. Your body wanted the rest so bad, but your mind would not let you.

You kept feeling the shock of connecting your gaze with Leon’s. You felt like you were at the edge of a nightmare every time you started to drift, and terrified to wake up in one, your mind subconsciously refused. You wanted to sleep, but you knew you could not sleep the day away. Maybe, you supposed, hard work today will put you to sleep tonight.

You finally brought that rabbit up that you had been delivered a few days ago. After the family insisted that you kept it while you shared some of their venison with them, you put it in the underground storage, where it was chilled enough to preserve, yet not freeze. You laid it on the counter, pleased to see you could still save the fur. Your gaze lingered on it.

Its eyes were closed. There were four puncture marks around the head and neck, they didn’t bleed too much. It looked as if it were just sleeping; the position did not suggest any signs of rigor mortis. Eating animals and having to skin them never bothered you–it was how you were raised. Putting too much thought behind it makes things unstable, you begin to question morals, you begin to question the world, but you supposed that was the inherent position of man on Earth.

Who had given you this rabbit? That had still gone unanswered, and you weren’t sure you would ever find out. Nonetheless, you were not going to run in circles to find the mystery gifter when you were hungry, and there was fresh meat on the table for dinner.

You were seated to eat dinner alone after a day of doing last minute preparation before the winter market. It was slated to happen in two days, you were helping mothers around the square fill their grain portions and make room in their storage chests. You did all of this for yourself in between, but as you’ve said to your friend multiple times before, you were only one person, and you could ration it should you need to.

You made the whole rabbit. It was small enough, and you could eat the other half tomorrow. It would cool down just fine in the underground storage overnight.

The candlelight on your table flickered. You were suddenly afraid of it going dark, you had to have your matches nearby in case of this happening. You already knew you would be caged with fear, unable to move, any sense of navigation in the dark stripped from you.

Putting the rabbit in a cloth wrap, you placed it into your underground storage, making a mental note to bring it up in the morning to prevent it from freezing through. You extinguished the candles, but not before setting a small fire in the hearth, enough wood inside to provide you with light until you were able to fall asleep, but nothing too big to risk a hazard.

You hoped with food in you and a fire going slowly would ease you off to sleep, and let you rest thoroughly this time–it was everything but.

Your eyes shot open. You faced the dark, unable to gather your bearings for a moment. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, feeling the pinch of pine needles under your clothing. You looked down, desperate to figure out the situation. Hearing the wind howl and not feeling the warmth that your home would be providing you, your vision returned slowly, and your mind pieced it all together.

You were in a forest. Where exactly, you could not tell. You did not often journey into the forest, there was no reason for you to be out there. This aside, out there you were, and you had to find a way back.

Your legs were unsturdy, but you forced them in place, holding your balance upright as you took weary steps over the foliage. The wind occasionally whipped your face and you squinted to avoid it, eyes getting teary and fingers growing numb.

All around you in each cardinal direction was nothing but the dark blanket of night and more trees. You could see the tips of leaves up on the canopy painted by moonlight, and now that you adjusted to the dimness, she was your guidance.

The lack of sound should have been comforting, yet you found it ultimately disturbing. There should be more life around you, yet among the vast acres of wildlife, you were somehow the only one making any noise, the only one to exist here. It was wrong. Something was deeply wrong.

A twig snapping caught your attention. You held your breath in a silent gasp and turned, trying to source the cause. You held as still as the wind would render you, but fear was your driving force, and you became an impenetrable wall while facing the danger.

Seeing nothing and hearing no more, you turned, ready to continue your trek. Mere seconds after you took another step, yet another branch snap rang out, this time, it was only a handful of paces in front of you. Your ears were not deceiving you, you knew this was not a sound that you had produced, meaning there was something, someone else out there. They could see you, no doubt about it, yet you were blind to them.

Your body refused to cooperate. You could not take any more steps forward despite possibly being in direct vicinity of the danger. As much force as you applied, your limbs never gave way, and you were rooted to the ground, eyes peeled on the ages old trees in front of you, watching as the darkness uncovered itself.

A shadowy mist separated itself from the trees. It hung, suspended in midair, not making any attempts to move, until after a few seconds, it began to evolve, tendrils of smoke solidifying into body parts, horridly long body parts and skin that shone under the moonlight, a sheen to it that was not possible for any human to achieve. Ice blue eyes pierced the vast emptiness, and as you stared into them, for whatever creature they belonged to began to take shape. You witnessed in your peripherals arms and legs, bent to support the hunched body on the ground, muscles undulating and flexing under tightly pulled skin, fur sprouting from its back, claws digging into the dirt, teeth shining like stars from a face as black as the void. It was set on you. There was no outrunning this cosmic beast.

It took no steps forward, yet you felt it’s spirit enter your proximity like a snake tightening on its prey. Your body started to tremble, tears streaking down your face, unblinking, expressionless, save for your mouth slightly agape in a silent gasp. You felt it get closer, but it physically remained, your chest tightened, and you felt the pressure on your skin. Its eyes were glowing white, saliva pooling off of its teeth, its jaw unhinged, and your brain went blank, ears ringing from the deep, droning growl it emitted. It was not felt only with your head, but your chest vibrated, your eyes blurred, you fell to your knees.

You opened your mouth finally in a blood curdling scream.

With a gasp that wracked your whole body, you shot up, hands gripping the fabric underneath you as you stared up at the dark ceiling.

A nightmare.

You sat still, allowing your heart to steady and slowing your breath down, taking a moment to reground yourself. Nothing of what you just saw was real.

You slowly lowered yourself back down onto your bed, listening to the rustle of the blanket and the distant crackle of the dying fire. As much as you told yourself it was just a dream, the feeling it left behind was more real than you had ever felt.

You jumped again when there was a sudden series of knocks on your front door.

You bolted upright again, staring out into the dark in the direction of the door. Whoever was standing outside was not knocking again, but you had a feeling that they were not walking away when you did not answer. Though you were afraid in this moment, there was no reason you shouldn’t trust a neighbor coming to you at this time. It could be dire. You had to find out.

You lifted yourself out of bed and wrapped a light blanket around your shoulders. The fire was nearly out now, and you paused to throw another log onto it, but made that a task for after you helped who was at your door.

Your hand hovered over the doorknob, making second guesses, wondering if you should just turn around and pretend you did not hear it. But that is not how things operated in this town–everyone helped everyone.

You twisted the knob and slowly opened the door, only enough to peek your face through and observe who was standing at the doorstep.

Your brow furrowed immediately when you deduced who it was. You locked eyes, and you expected the wave of intense emotion that came with it, but nothing happened. You spoke.

“Can I help you?”

He nodded curtly. “I am sorry to have woken you. I got a tad distracted on hunt today, spent a little too long down at the parlor… I don’t have anywhere to stay for tonight. If you had the room… but please don’t hesitate to close the door on me should you feel so inclined. I understand this situation I am putting you in.”

You blinked at him. You opened the door a bit more. “You… you aren’t staying at the inn?”

He looked to his left in the direction of the square. You supposed, putting a mental puzzle together right after you said it, that the inn was full from the other villagers aiding you during this time. “No vacancy.” As expected.

You stared at him for a moment longer. A breeze hit your face, and you shuddered. You figured he was faring much worse wandering outside in this weather.

“Okay… I have a mat I can pull out by the fire. I need to throw more wood onto it.” You swung the door open fully, and he stepped over the threshold. Hanging his jacket and outerwear on the hooks, you felt his eyes follow you as you opened your wardrobe and unrolled the spare mat you had. You suddenly felt pressure to perform in your own home. Shaking your head, you threw two small logs onto the fire and waited for it to come to life.

“Again, I am sorry to wake you. You know, your comrade has spoken of you highly, and I figure a full house such as his would not have kindly taken me in at this time.” You turned to look at him, having followed you to the fire, taking a seat on the floor on top of the mat. The angles of his face created harsh shadows under his brow bone. He looked unscathed. Hadn’t he been outside all day?

“It’s alright, I… I had just woken up anyway. Don’t sleep fully through the night sometimes.” He nodded, but did not speak. You poked the last log fully into the embers for it to ignite, warming the house for a few hours longer. “This season is more stress than it usually is, I imagine that has a lot to do with it.”

“Yes, I can tell many of these men are unsure about how to conduct themselves right now. I can’t say I blame them though. I’m sorry, my name is Leon, by the way, I should have started with that before asking for your hospitality.”

You nodded. “Yes, Leon, I remember,” You spoke wistfully. “How did you get to be wandering this late at night? Everything should have closed hours ago if I know what time it is.” He blinked slowly at you, no expressions on his face.

“I am much accustomed to the darkness. I like to spend some of my time wandering around and seeing what is open, where I can go, and if that results in nothing for me, then I turn and leave. But, I came here for a reason and I cannot abandon the cause that I volunteered to contribute to, and it seems the inn I had last spent time in was already housing those from the east who are doing the same. I came from there. They had a small parlor, but I was forced out once their latest hour of operation came.” Leon shrugged. “And as I said, I recall having heard the introductions of those who live nearby. My first gamble paid off.”

You said nothing to this. His voice was sliding through your head like silk, and his face moved as if it were a statue enchanted. His aura was unlike any other you have encountered, and you found yourself wondering if this is what people from farther regions were truly like, or if there was something about him that no other could replicate.

“Well, I have a half of a rabbit left that I ate for supper if you are hungry. I would rather it get eaten while it has just recently been cooked.”

He looked over to the kitchen, shrouded in shadow. Pieces of his hair stuck together in blades of blonde, yet it looked purposefully tousled and cleaned. The bare white tunic he wore was clearly too light for the winter weather, yet he seemed unbothered by it.

“I would be lying if I said rabbit weren’t my favorite, but I will decline. I am fair off for the time being. I can snatch one up tomorrow.” He scooted himself back so he was resting against the wall, still facing the fire, where you were sitting. The heat of it was licking your skin now, lulling you back into a drowsy state. As much as you wanted to return to the loft bed to sleep, you couldn’t abandon company.

“So, where do you come from Leon? I remember you saying north but… I have not encountered any northerners for quite some time, I honestly forgot there was anyone up there at all.”

He shrugged again. Before he started talking, you moved from the fire, fearing the heat may put you back to sleep right where you sat. “I do come from the north, but I have always been a roamer. I have visited various villages and small cities, anything that the forest wraps around. I explore. I lend my help when needed.”

“You’re nomadic? How is that possible in the weather the north gets?”

He rolled his head to the side from where it was resting on the wall. His face was painted orange. “I have learned to adapt. I much prefer living that way.”

You stared again, aware that he was aware of how long you were looking at him. Every answer he gave only puzzled you more. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

He quirked his mouth in a small smirk. You ignored the sudden heat surge from the fire that was surely not growing any larger. “I find a way to make everything possible.”

A spell of silence fell over you. You could feel the sleep creeping back under your eyelids, and wanted to return to the loft.

“Do you need anything else? I’m sorry I don’t prepare for visitors too often…” Leon had closed his eyes, hands wrapped around the blanket off of your small sofa and a spare pillow.

He shook his head slightly. “It is more than enough, I can’t come into your home at dead of night and demand more than you’ve given me. It is plenty for me to be ready to set out with them in the morning.”

You nodded your head and went to stand. Before you even made it a few paces away from him, you turned again, a sudden fear overcoming you.

“Do you think you’ll be able to catch… it? It’s been driving me crazy, it feels. It’s making my mind reel.”

He turned his head and looked over at you now, half of his face hidden in shadow. A few pieces of his yellow hair fell onto his forehead. “I do believe so. If there is anything to catch out there at all.”

Your brow scrunched. “Do you believe there is nothing out there?”

He sighed. The light made the rise and fall of his chest visible. You watched the way his shirt tightened around his torso with the movement. “I think the case is, more often than not, that one person spreads a moment of hysteria and it catches on. There might be something out there, there might not.”

You recall the conversation you had had with your friend’s husband the other day. He had seen it himself, and you knew he wouldn’t lie. Were Leon’s experiences the only premonition he was speaking from? You could only assume that was the case with him. But as to how he could have been nomadic his whole life and never come across a wicked beast… you couldn’t imagine the likelihood of that scenario.

“I feel that the fear that man held was not fake when he told us all what he saw… I believe him.”

Leon stared at you. The fire glinted in his eyes. They looked impossibly dark and deep from where you were standing. “What do you think it was out there?”

You breathed in and cast your gaze down. You honestly were not sure what you believed. Your logical mind, and the mind that wanted to keep everyone safe, told yourself that it was a wolf. A large wolf that was not afraid of people. But the mind of yours that likes to wander is a different story.

“I think… I think there is an animal. And it is getting closer. So, it makes me worried.” Leon nodded as you spoke, but he offered no insight. “There’s rumors.”

“Rumors? Spread by the men on the hunt or the children eager for more legends to pass on?” You could hear the smirk in Leon’s voice without needing to look up. It made you clench your jaw.

“Rumors that it is otherworldly.” You shrugged. “Who am I to deny the existence of that which I cannot claim to have proof of it not?” You looked up again to Leon, who also had his eyes cast down. A chill washed over you despite the fire still burning. “Could be a werewolf.”

Leon’s eyes snapped up at that. Your head seared with a sudden migraine spike, and your vision went blurry. Your muscles and organs felt ice cold yet your skin burned, both sensations merging to keep you rooted to the spot. All the air left your lungs, and your throat went dry. You felt your knees grow weaker until they could no longer bear your weight, and you registered the sound of your body hitting the floor, but felt none of the pain from the impact. Your vision went black.

When you awoke again, the sun was peeking over the horizon and you were in your bed. Leon was not in the house.

–

You carried an air of confusion with you for the better part of the day. You had not seen Leon once since he left your house, and the only evidence left behind that you knew he was there for sure was the spare mat out on the floor, the blanket folded neatly and the pillow stacked on top of it. You didn’t hear him leave, but then again, you don’t remember going upstairs at all.

Did you black out? Have a fainting spell? That could be the only explanation–what else could you attribute it to? This was a new experience for you, as you had never had any issues like this before with your health (that you knew of) and had no past encounters that would offer you any sort of explanation other than a sudden bout of fainting. You were at least glad that Leon was there; he was the only person around to have put you back into your bed, unless you really had woken up and lost your memory of it.

And Leon–you could barely even remember the conversation happening when you fainted in the middle of it. Though you were not this kind of person and always think the better of everyone, you mind did of course do a mental checklist of everything that could have been blamed on Leon. You drank nothing and ate nothing while he was in the house. You offered him half your rabbit, but he declined. You kept your eyes on him at all times while he was in the house, save for the obvious part when you were unconscious, and he left the house in no state of disarray when you woke. Your body felt intact and unharmed, and you mentally felt comfortable with the idea that he simply carried you back to your bed, and hopefully returned downstairs. You hated that train of thought, but you had to cover all bases.

Today was the final day before the market. There was a group of men going out to finish a hunt while the rest of those who usually go out were split up to finish coverage looking for the wild animal that some had seen. You felt increasingly nervous when you thought about this hunt, taking into account what your friend’s husband had told you he had seen. It sounded like an alien. That thought terrified you, knowing something was roaming about that you had no relation to, no knowledge of its existence, and not a clue at all on what it could do to you or the others around. A true monster.

You stopped short, having been struck with the memories from last night. Leon arriving at your house asking for shelter was not the only odd thing that happened–you had a nightmare.

You rarely dreamed at all, nevermind having a nightmare. You can vividly recall what transpired now, though, as you think back on it. You remember being in the woods alone; cold and dark and the infinite stretch of trees the only other things out there with you. And that beast… it felt far too real for you to be comfortable with.

The image of it was now seared into your brain, and every noise coming from the town made you jump. Was this what was out there? Was that the monster to behold? If that answer was yes… you decided you would be better off if you didn’t know.

A shouting was heard from across the square. Through the clearing of the trees, you saw a wagon being pulled in. You were brought back to a state of confusion once more at seeing this, knowing it was much too early for anyone to return. You stalked closer to where it would be unloaded, only growing more worried and anxious when you saw there was no game upon it at all, but rather, a body.

You gasped and stopped walking, instinctively reaching out to those walking next to you to stop them from seeing as well. You heard more gasps and whispers, felt others grabbing onto you and you grabbed back for support. You watched as they lifted a man from the back of the wagon, looking utterly pale, limbs swinging back and forth as he was carried to a makeshift gurney that someone had rushed out. You felt at a loss for breath. What had happened on this hunt that caused a lost life?

Some people beside you started shouting to those coming in from the hunt. Asking questions on what had happened, who else was hurt and lost, was anyone coming back at all, and was it the wolf that had done this.

One of the men walked closer, chatting with a man from the council. He was speaking loud enough, purposefully, to let everyone know what had happened.

“We saw it, and we were close to taking it down. We had our rifles pointed and ready, and… by god, I don’t know, but we were ready and suddenly we lost track of where it went. I blinked and everything disappeared.” More whispers broke out from next to you, you almost turned and shushed them so you could hear. “It popped up again through the trees, running, someone shot and we thought it hit. It took a hit on the side of its head, its ear… but it kept going, kept running, then it got to one of our men somehow.” He shook his head. “It… it got his neck, and he bled out so fast, he…” He brought his hand up to swipe at his chin, clearly in distress from seeing one of his men go down. You closed your eyes, you could not stomach to listen anymore.

You turned and made haste back to your home. You wanted to be inside suddenly, safe from the outside. You would go seek the comfort of your friend, but you knew you would have to put on a face not to worry her children. You did not have that energy in you right now, you needed to be alone.

You had hoped for positive news on the return of the men, but hearing this, you knew nothing good could come out of their mouths next. If whatever was out there was taking down the men that were sent to protect those who live within these communities' walls, then who is to say how safe anyone inside is now…

Your mind was reeling as you shut yourself into your home. You found yourself no longer wanting to be outside, no longer wanting to help out of your own selflessness due to the fear of that being the last time you would help anyone, or worse, witness someone else’s unfortunate end to their destiny. The mess this has become was too much for you to swallow. You were nearly drowning in your fear.

You didn’t move positions all night, watching the sky go from a dimly lit gray to a dark one, then deep navy, then black. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you had no intention of moving. Emotion gripped your stomach, making you unable to eat, not wanting to, not wanting to simply get up.

The fire was dying slowly, and the only motivator for you to move right now was the threat of being in the dark. You pushed yourself up off the mat you had not yet put away to throw another couple of logs on the fire. You stared, hunched, as they began to catch fire and watched as their layers were peeled back by the flames, as the bark curled and crumbled to ash, and your face was basked in intense heat that you almost couldn’t free yourself from.

Deep in a trance, you were startled when a series of knocks sounded at the door. Your head whipped in the direction of the sound, blood flowing like a rushing river, knowing who would be behind the door but still being afraid to make the move and let him in.

Your brain was yelling at you to get up and move, to be a good person, the person you were, but something inside of you was still terrified. Terrified that if you let him in, the beast would sneak in with him.

You finally stood, deciding to do the right thing, and perhaps, having some company below you while you slept might ease the worry.

You grasped the cold door handle and turned slowly. Through the light cast from the fire, a sliver of his face was illuminated. Part of his eye was clear under the shadow from his brow, and he looked to be glistening in what you guessed was sweat, but you couldn’t imagine how he could be sweating in this weather. Strands of hair were falling over his face. He looked menacing in this moment, yet he waited for your invitation to even speak first.

“You’re here again.” You spoke in a low whisper, knowing he could hear with the silent world around you.

“You’re awake to greet me again,” Leon’s voice was a low rumble, clenching your heart with emotion, untangling the strings of fear in your ribcage. “I fear I must ask for safety from you once more. It is… the same situation as yesterday with none of the outsiders leaving your grounds yet.”

You breathed in, feeling the cold air of the outdoors fill your lungs. It cleared your head a little bit. Last night was fine, it was you lending a hand to someone who needed it and it did you no harm. There was no reason to turn Leon down this time.

“Sure. I still have your setup by the fire.”

Swinging the door open let in a rush of cold air, but you welcomed it for a moment, feeling yourself calm down from the heat of the house and the mental mess you have been creating. Leon shed his jacket and boots and walked himself over to the mat on the floor, collapsing into a barely sitting position, resting his upper body on the wall behind him. From where you stood in the kitchen after closing and locking up the door, you could see his shirt was almost soaked through.

You swallowed, carefully studying the curves of his arms and the way his back flexed to accommodate his new position, head tilted and exposing the flesh of his neck to you, oranges and yellows dancing over the sheen on his skin, bringing it to life. You took careful steps over, taking a seat by the fire once more.

“Did I wake you again?” His voice was low and raspy, and without moving your eyes from the floor, focusing on nothing, you knew he was looking at you.

“No,” You shook your head. “I was already awake.”

He hummed. “Another nightmare?” He questioned. You swallowed, not liking the unwelcome recollection of that dream, trying to focus on the present and the tangible person in front of you, not the wretched beast of your darkest dreams. Anything to be distracted from… everything.

Your breath caught in your throat at once, however, upon a dawning realization: Leon should not know about the nightmare.

You suddenly shot your gaze upward, ready to question him, when your thoughts completely derailed.

You gasped. “Leon! Your ear… you’re bleeding…” You stood up and ran to the kitchen, wetting a rag in your basin. Wringing it out, dripping on the way over, you pressed it to the right side of Leon’s head, taking his face in your other free hand. He did not resist, rather he let you pamper him; he seemed to not care about the dripping and drying blood on his face and clothes.

You cleaned his skin to a degree, the wound still looked fresh, but it stopped dripping blood for now. The rag would have to be thrown away.

“How did this happen, Leon? Did you get hurt on the hunt?” You tried to wipe away some of the fresh blood from his shirt, but it merely smudged it. You sighed and stood, deciding to leave it, knowing he didn’t seem to care either way if he was covered in blood or not.

You heard him breathe in deeply. “You can say that.” You glanced back over your shoulder, growing a bit weary to see he was barely moving positions. It would be crazy from what looked to just be a flesh wound on his ear, but you hoped that luck would not have it so he would die in your home on you.

You walked back over to him and crouched slowly again, still by the fire, but closer to him, in case of more blood emergencies. His skin was unnaturally shiny; you could tell he was wet, but the fire was not nearly strong enough for it to be sweat.

“Is everything alright? You seem ill, I think you should see the medic–”

“No, I’m fine.” He cut you off. His tone was much more stern than he had been with you just prior, and the night before. You watched the muscles in his throat contract as he gulped. He was clearly unwell, but you would not push it anymore. “It’s just been a long night. I should start listening to my body when it is telling me enough is enough.”

You nodded, holding yourself back from getting up and fetching all the blankets you had left in the house. Sweating this profusely while it is not nearly the correct weather for it could only mean a fever. But this was still a man you did not know well enough, and you did not want to push on any boundaries where you didn’t know where the line was.

“Leon…” You started gently. He turned his head to regard you. His gaze was as hot as the burning logs beside you. He said nothing, eyes urging you to continue. “I worry that you are unwell. Please tell me what I can do for you. Or… tell me what you would like me to do for you.”

He quirked a smile at this. You felt a rush of cold under your thick wardrobe. “I need you to stop worrying. I know I look ill but I give you my word that I will be just fine. I would have let you know if this was new for me… but I have seen it before.” He shook his head and turned away again. “I will be fine come morning.” He fell into silence again. You watched the veins in his neck dip and bob with the breaths and swallows he took, feeling torn between two distinct emotions inside of you, knowing one came from the humanitarian you were raised to be, and the other, a deep, twisted lust that you felt crawling back up from the grave you buried it in a long time ago.

The fact of the current, unfortunate, situation was this–Leon was a very attractive man. This you could not deny. No amount of strangeness between you two would make you blind to this fact. There was no arguing against saying this as a statement, this man was taller than any other man you saw daily, he was nearly twice their size as well. His face was carved of the smoothest marble, and the way his hair sat brought even more emotion than there already was to the deep inset of his brow bone. With his shirt dampened with sweat, it clung to the hills and valleys of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, and your eyes were glued. You felt a wave of guilt rise, knowing you were taking pleasure in your viewing when he was in such a state, but you could not look away. You just could not.

After what felt like long, agonizing seconds of admiring his build, your eyes drifted upward again to meet his, and you felt a wave of shame pass over as you realized he was already looking at you.

“So astonished by meeting someone like me?” He looked smug without so much as a hint of a smile, his blue eyes practically radiating in the firelight.

“I’ve never seen anyone like you around here.” You choked out, suddenly barely able to speak.

“No surprise there. There is no one else like me to come wandering by.” He barely moved as he spoke, save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed raggedly. “I know no one here has seen someone like me before, in fact. It is all the same from years past when I came through the first time. It is like history is re-living itself.

“You’ve been here before?” You asked with mild shock, knowing no one has ever alluded to a mysterious traveller who has stopped by. Word would have gotten around no matter how long ago it was–even when you are greeted by others of villages far, they look much more similar to you than they do to Leon.

He stared at you for a moment longer before continuing. “Many, many years ago. Nothing has changed. Not that I would have expected it to, the method of living here has worked for decades so why alter it? Why come in and destroy a civilization like I’m stepping on an anthill just because it is in the way of the path I travel? I could have. I didn’t, though. It’s more fun to be the looming threat over the colony and lead a single ant or two astray, leaving the rest wondering if anything ever happened at all years down the line.”

You felt your body tense with each word he spoke. What was he saying? How had he been here before, long enough before to know decades of history about the commune? Not even you had that many years of life itself to be able to speak for.

This time, a grin spread on his face. You were confusing the emotions blooming inside of you again.

“I…” Chest constricting, you tried to talk through it. You could only muster a loud whisper. “I don’t understand.”

“How could you? It’s more than one person can bear witness to. The legends always have some concrete event to back them up.” He shifted, brows furrowed as if he were in pain. You felt yourself slightly less inclined to want to help him. The glow of the fire against his skin was turning him even more golden, it seemed like it was happening without help from the flames. “Still have that rabbit?”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. “No, I ate it already. I am sorry if you wanted it.”

Leon shook his head in response to this. “No, I didn’t want it. Just curious. It was for you, not for you to share.”

You sat up straighter, leaning forward toward him only an inch. “The rabbit was from you?”

He breathed a laugh at this. “Well, who else do you think left it?”

You shook your head. “But… you weren't even here when that was left for me. You didn’t show up until nearly two days later. How?”

Leon sat forward to meet you. He was now inches away from your face, and while on the surface rippled a thin layer of fear, you were far braver than to back down in front of him. The swelling heat of emotion inside of you was enough for you to keep your stance. “I’ve been here. I am not new, and I never have been.” You stared in defiance at him, trying to untie whatever knot he was creating with his words. “I might be new to you, but these grounds are not new to me. You are my ants. I stand over you and watch how you behave in my shadow. Generations come and go from the anthill, but I am always outside watching how tall it gets. Waiting for it to collapse. Seeing how many ants can wander away before the whole colony is gone.”

You tried to shake your head, but you were rooted in place. His eyes burned a hole through you, and they almost unnaturally glowed. He took a deep breath in and rolled his head back, and you unabashedly watched the languid movement the skin of his throat made against the stretch.

“I… like to watch it and yet… I can’t help but play a game with them every once in a while.”

His eyes were back on yours now. His face showed no signs of discomfort, or any sort of illness it seemed he was sporting minutes ago. The shadows and contours of his face gave him a harsh look, and his stare felt like he knew everything about you. The longer you looked into them, the more you felt yourself unravel, the more unsteady you felt in your own body. A shock passed through you at once, and you were unsure if this was natural, or a phantom being taking control.

“Game?” You finally managed to get out.

He hummed, and you felt it in your core. “Joining in on a game of hide and seek, trying to find the one that won’t appear, yet the whole time, it is hiding right under their noses. They let it seek with them. Why would they think it hides among them?”

You did not like what he was insinuating with his words–you hoped you were misconstruing them, but you kept up rapidly, and made the connection all too easily.

You wanted to disbelieve, yet you said it yourself: Who are you to deny the existence of that which you have no proof of living? You have the proof now. He was in front of you.

Wanting to object to his words, you opened your mouth to shut down what he was saying, but you were left speechless. No matter how hard you tried to utter one word, the effort was useless. You felt a wave come over you again.

It felt as if the oxygen in the room had thinned. Now, not only could you not speak, but you could barely breathe. You began to feel dizzy, not sure if you were swaying in the spot you were sitting or truly falling back to the floor. Your vision blurred, and all of the harsh, strong lines defining Leon’s body from the rest of the scene went soft and fuzzy, but the irises of his eyes were a beacon through the fog. They never left your gaze.

You felt the pressure of a hand around your throat, but even through the rapidly unfocusing and refocusing of your vision, you could see Leon was not touching you. Despite this, the sensation never let up, and you felt it get tighter, warmer, and you heard yourself wheeze in a breath around the grasp.

“I must say… I appreciate the mind you had to not cast aside the outlandish ideas you have heard being thrown around regarding what was happening amongst your woods… it made it all too easy for me to take residence inside you.”

The voice, Leon’s voice, was being spoken inside your brain. Your ears were only registering the crackle of the fire, but the deep reverberation of his voice was bouncing around in your head, echoing within, opening your mind to a realm of new possibilities–ones you had previously assumed impossible.

The next time your vision cleared, it stayed that way, and you felt a wash of relief upon having your sight back. The relief was short lived, however, when as your consciousness recentered itself, Leon sent you falling backwards onto your floor with one swift push to your shoulder. He was quicker to reangle himself and send his hand flying to meet your head at the point it would have collided with the hardwood, and you could only gasp as you registered this happening all too slowly for your liking.

Your back was flush with the floor and Leon was hovering above you. You felt the back of his hand underneath your head, the cushion from the wood, and your skin felt alive from his gaze as if he were touching you with invisible hands a million times over. There was no longer firelight dancing on his face, he was swathed in darkness, turning the hollows of his eyes and contours of his cheekbones even darker. But still, his blue eyes emitted a soft glow.

“How easy to lure a rabbit into a false sense of security by standing still until it forgets it saw me. How easy it is to become a presence in the mind of those that had no armor to protect themselves against me in the first place.” This time, as Leon spoke to you outloud, the voice inside your head was still tumbling around in there, making him sound as if he were in too many places at once. You felt so scrutinized under his gaze, still feeling the edge of movement restriction around you, surely still the work of him somehow.

Making as stable eye contact as you could muster, your voice returns for seconds long enough for you to choke out, “If choosing to fight a battle with those that are helpless is how you conduct your strategy, I don’t think of you as worth any nobility we had to offer you.”

He lowered himself closer to your face with swiftness unseen by human capability. “When did I say I was anything of a nobleman?”

As if unleashed by his words, a sensation similar to a boa winding itself around its prey consumed your body. You struggled to breathe in again, back arching off the floor, feeling your torso meet with his as he still held himself above you, watching you obey his command. You tore at the edges of this invisible confine, eager to fight back and prove you were not so easily controlled as he seemed to have a hunch about.

He shook his head slowly above you, laughing in a low, tumbling, growl-like sound that nearly left your ears ringing. “Fight harder. Don’t put your walls up now when I am already inside.”

At this, you stuttered in your movement, trying to make it unnoticeable, but even after it happened you thought this was stupid, as he caught the very moment you faltered. He removed the hand that was pillowing your head and put it on your chest, pressing you back down onto the floor. It was impressively, and embarrassingly, easy for him to do so considering your own struggle against it. He kept his hand there, and whatever trance he had you under made you still at his touch. As much as you wanted to fight it, your body went completely unmoving under the pressure of one hand.

“Enough…” You rasped out. “Just take what you wanted from here and go. You took our animals and hurt our people, was that not enough?”

Leon smiled in your face. It was simultaneously horrid and mocking as it was suggestive and flirtatious. “I told you already. All I wanted was the game.” He leaned in closer once more, bringing his face into the crook of your neck. You felt his breath paint your skin, and you felt a trail of shivers race down your body at it. While you were fighting against his hold, you were also fighting to get closer to it. The hand that was pressing into your chest snaked upward, and you felt the chill of his fingertips creep up your throat and onto your chin, holding your jawline in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head to the side with the lightest of touches. You gasped at the movement, and your breath fluttered when his lips made contact. Your hands curled into fists at your side, inwardly wincing when you felt the pinch of needle-like teeth scraping the skin. His mouth came up to your ear, and the heat from his proximity filled your veins. “I am not leaving without the trophy.”

His teeth, sharp fangs like vampires, sunk into the tender flesh where your jaw connects to your skull, and you gasped, body finally able to move again, writhing against him on top of you, and it was as if he were injecting a venom into your bloodstream, you were hit with another wave of his mind control.

Any fear you had lingering turned to a burning lust. Dizziness ebbed and flowed throughout your limbs, the contact you had with Leon at any point of your bodies burned as if you touched a hot iron. Your hands were covered in pins and needles as they reached up and grabbed onto the thick bicep of the man over you, squeezing as hard as you could muster, but losing any feeling seconds later.

Leon detached himself from you and sat back on his knees; you tried to push yourself up to meet him but your body was utterly unresponsive. His lips were coated in your blood, a shade so dark you were stunned to assume it came from you at all. His eyes were shaded over completely, ice blue irises gave way to black voids, and visible blue veins spider-webbing across his neck and near his eyes. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, still soaked to the touch, and he glistened as he was backlit by the fire still burning, still heating you as if nothing were wrong.

He reached his hand out and grabbed your chin again, your eyes rolling back at the searing pleasure shooting through you at his mere touch. He tilted your head backward, and the lightheaded sensation returned. He held your face firmly rooted away from him, you were now completely turned away from him, left only the sensation of touch as he rooted his other hand up your leg from under your long skirt, settling himself in between your legs.

Your hand came up to wrap itself around his wrist, needing something to stabilize yourself as he brought himself lower upon you once more.

You felt him return to the side of your head. “The choice is yours. Will you be the trophy of my choosing or will you pick another to make the sacrifice?”

You breathed in as deeply as his trance would allow. Your vision continued to dart in and out, blinking feeling like a process that took whole minutes rather than seconds. Your hand slowly moved its way up his forearm, feeling the flex in the muscle as a response to your touch. That alone solidified it, him reacting to your actions below him was enough.

“It will be me.” Your words came out closer to puffs of air rather than a sound, but the clarity of the delivery was not what Leon was concerned with. “It must be.”

He hummed, turning into an almost carnal growl, before transforming into a deep bass you felt in your chest, making you feel as if your ears were sure to rupture. Your whole body vibrated along with his call, both of your hands clawed upward in an attempt to grasp onto any part of him. They found purchase on the frail cloth of his shirt, ripping holes you knew he was surely not to care about as you pulled him closer. He obeyed, and you felt the prick of his teeth on your neck once more as the weight of his body crashed on top of yours, feeding delicious pleasure when he ground himself into you, locking you in a dance of lust tinged with fear as you needed him closer, needed to feel him in every regard.

The hands of his that were trailing up your skirt ripped apart with a swift motion the thin leggings you had under to sleep in for warmth, feeling the cool air grace your skin as you were now burning from the physical heat and from the heat within. You felt his tongue trace patterns across your throat, and you almost thought he had ripped out your vocal chords and you were unaware–as no matter how intense it felt like you were sighing and moaning from his pleasure, you never uttered a sound.

Your head rolled to the side as the energy to keep your body rigid fled from you, with wave after wave of your own satisfaction mixed with the toying you knew he was doing to your brain. You felt like not yourself, yet when you felt his touch, it was the only thing you could focus on. The weight of Leon on top of you paired with his roaming hands, hands that felt cold from an unhuman skin, and exceptionally warm from the friction between you.

He now had an arm under your leg, seating himself perfectly between your legs and pressing all of his weight onto you. You felt like prey in this moment, and you knew there would be no way out here.

“I fear that when I keep going I will have no control left to stop… but I am far to gone to pretend I can back out now.” His growl was ever present in your ears, hearing him beside your face as well as inside your head. His voice alone had your eyes rolling back into your skull, your hands losing grip where they sat on his thick arms and sturdy chest.

He swiftly scooped up your fallen wrists into his own hands, pinning you down to the floor, leaving you with no energy to try and fight his strength–but you knew in your mind you did not want to try this. Regardless of whatever spell of his that had you in a clouded state, that deep emotional awakening coming from within you was telling you now, as you were pinned underneath this man-monster, I will accept that this is my way to go.

Wearily, taking in every sensation there was to feel, you brought a hand up to grace the side of his head lovingly. He moved his head further up your body again, locking eyes with yours. You felt the swell of dizzying tides take you away, reveling in the heat that you felt his body throwing off.

You fluttered in and out of consciousness, seeing his mouth dripping crimson every time he came up for air from your neck and body. You could not tell what the temperature was in the room any longer. You registered in pieces his hands still roaming over you, the sounds of his human pleasure when he reveled in your body and thrust himself deep into you, your own mind being clouded from the lust emerging through your trance. You poked back to the surface at your own climax, nearly feeling weightless from the way Leon brought it to you.

You let Leon have you. After all, you are who he chose.

–

It was on the rising dawn of the next morning you came back to the present. You were not in your home.

You could not move an inch, but your eyes were working normally past a thin layer of fog that you couldn’t differentiate if the source was your own vision or the atmosphere around you. The leaves and twigs poking through the ground went unfelt by you, and you were unsure if you were numb, or you had been there for so long that you no longer felt it.

In your haze, you saw a small movement out in the distance.

Leon’s voice reverberated through your head. “The extent of my heart and gratitude goes to you for allowing me to exist. I will repay your honor in my many years to come.” A blanket of warmth came down onto you, surely Leon’s doing, and an exhaustion took over your senses. You sighed.

The small bundle of movement came closer. You were so still, the rabbit approached you with no caution and all curiosity. It was perfectly round. It would make the perfect meal come nightfall.

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