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lemoncherrypop · 7 months ago

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seventeen x harry potter au

deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!readersummary: The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit.notes: hello :'))) i am back from the dead. i can not apologize enough for the three year hiatus. i went through some family stuff, some mental breakdowns, and also just life in general made me not want to write anymore. but all the messages and comments I've gotten throughout the years have been so heart warming and touching. your words of support have genuinely made me want to get back into this again, so thank you thank you thank you. all your likes, comments and shares really kept me going, sometimes I felt like I was writing into the void, but knowing that others read and enjoyed my story was a very validating and heartwarming feeling. again, I am SOOO sorry for the extremely late update, but if you are still around, I hope you will enjoy this next chapter! i love you all <3P.S if you prefer AO3 viewing, it will be linked in my Series Masterlist :) word count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

One l Two l Three l Four l Five l Six l coming soon...

Chapter Five

The bed is warm when you wake up, but you can not move.

“If you try to get up, I will incarcerous your ass.”

The air smells bitter and burnt, and it makes you want to gag at how strong it weighs in the air. Blinking past the candlelights, you find Jean sitting in a chair next to your bed.

Groaning, you try and curl your fingers, but you find yourself unable to. Not even needing to look down, you could feel the thick bandages wrapped around your whole chest and the entire length of your left arm.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” you grumble, voice feeling raw and dry in your throat. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“What did I do to you?”

“I can’t fucking move!”

“I bloody well put you back together in one piece!” Jean snapped and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much anger in your friend’s eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed, and you’re complaining about a couple of bandages?!”

“A couple is enough to render me completely useless?!”

“You’re not useless.” Jean rolls her eyes. “You’re just forced into recuperation.”

“Well, it’d be fucking nice if I could at least scratch my nose.” You scrunch your nose unpleasantly.

“Your right arm still works, you know.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”

Jean sighs deeply and goes back to focusing on something on your night table. Feeling awkward, you stretch out your right arm the best you can and reach up to scratch the itch on the bridge of your nose.

“What’s that?” You point at the stack of small withered leather pouches and tiny vials of potions.

She lets out a grunt of frustration. “It’s your medicine. You lost so much blood, I thought you turned into a bloody ghost.”

“Well, blame that on—”

“It’s both of your faults,” Jean cuts you off with a sharp glare. “Don’t go blaming Seungcheol when you put him in an equally bad position.”

You can’t help but smirk at the news. “He strapped down onto his bed just like me?”

Glass bottles click and clatter as Jean slams down your medicine. “Wake up! This was all meant for training, not to cut each other’s throats and bleed each other dry.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn away to avoid her glare. “Did you give him the same lecture?”

“I’m serious, can’t you just listen to me?”

“It’d be nice to not, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

She scoffs. “We’re not at school anymore. There’s no more petty house rivalry, no house points to fight over, or exams to stress over. We’re on the same side of the war, we can’t keep fighting with the boys.”

“Don’t be a fool.” You snap back at her with furrowed brows. “You want me to trust these boys? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one—”

A click— the door opens and Wonwoo walks in as if he were coming in like routine.

“Ah,” he says in quiet surprise. “You’re up?”

A brow quirks. “What are you doing in my room?”

Jean clicks her tongue and goes back to refilling your medication.

He holds up an amber glass bottle. “To heal you back into a functioning human.”

You place your good arm under the back of your head and prop yourself up a little to get a better view of your two housemates.

“Jean’s already got my medicine here.” You nod over to the glass vials on your night table.

“Yes, but this one—” Wonwoo holds it closer to your face, the clear glass has no label but contains a sticky, thick liquid. “—is for those cuts that Seungcheol gave you.”

“Of course,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Even the cuts he gave me aren’t ordinary. I need a special potion just for that?”

Wonwoo takes a seat at the end of your bed. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“A lot.” Jean glowers.

“Stop worrying,” you chide. “I feel fine!” You cough, embarrassingly, your throat still raw and dry.

“Fine my fucking arse,” Jean curses, and you know she’s truly mad because when was the last time your friend has ever cursed? “Fine isn’t being completely incapacitated for days. I had no idea when you would even wake up.”

“Wait a sec—” Your forehead wrinkles as your face contorts into confusion. “How long have I been out?”

“Only three days,” Wonwoo sighs, and uncorks the bottle in his hand. “He’s just as immobile as you, thought you’d be interested to know.”

“That is good to know.” You can’t help the grin spreading on your face. Jean’s scowl only deepens.

A cup is conjured out of thin air, and Wonwoo pours some of the amber liquid into it. “This is going to be hard to swallow, but drink the whole thing, okay?” He hands you the cup.

It looks even darker in the cup and moves like molasses. “And what is this supposed to help with? All the blood that I lost?”

“It’s to make sure your wounds heal completely,” Jeans explains. “Unfortunately… you won’t be able to get rid of the scars, but at least they’ll be completely closed.”

“That spell he used on you…” Wonwoo says quietly, his face looking serious as he tries to word it properly in his head before saying it out loud. “It’s— it’s not a spell to take lightly. Obviously, it would have been best to use the counterspell right after you got hit, but you continued fighting—”

“Absolute blockheads, the both of you!”

“— and the lacerations only went deeper and deeper as they spread. It’ll take a few days of rest before you’re fully healed, but just hold your nose when you take the potion because it—”

“Tastes like fucking shit!” You gag.

“— tastes pretty awful…”

Mandatory bed rest for the rest of the week.

Those were the orders from apparently everyone else in the house. Sneaking out was not an option because there was a spell that made the entire house ring when you tried to sneak out. It was equally both embarrassing and frustrating, seeing as how you couldn’t even take a piss without having Jean come over to help you over to the bathroom.

The only good thing about being imprisoned inside your own room was Wonwoo’s cup of tea.

He brought you a cup of tea every morning. Earl grey. Always piping hot, and with just enough cream and sugar to make anyone else’s tongue curl from the sweetness.

It was the perfect cup of tea.

The damn snake was slowly creeping his way up your ladder that goes from enemies to acquaintances to just barely being friends. He was still low on the ladder though, just marginally above the other snakes.

But the cup of tea did nothing to make you feel any better. Any less useless.

The wounds have healed completely when you finished up the rest of the amber liquid, and the bandages were finally all released with permission from Wonwoo and Jean, but no one allowed you back into another round of dueling. Not yet at least. They all said it's because you needed more time to get better, but you knew it was because they all thought you weren’t mentally stable enough to go back.

“You almost died!” You remember wincing in pain when Jean readjusted your bandages.

No matter how many times you insisted that you were feeling better and thinking more clearly, she stayed firm in her decision.

“Not. Yet.”

You can only hope that the same was happening to Seungcheol.

Minghao sips on his glass and the candlelight illuminates the grimace on his face. “This is not what I meant when I said they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other.”

“I was hoping they’d just fuck each other’s brains out,” Mingyu shrugs. “But I guess this is another way of them taking their anger out on each other.”

“How could you joke like that when they both nearly died?” Trinh scowls, smacking the back of his head for the comment.

“Hey!” Mingyu rubs his head with a groan. “You think I wanted that to happen? I nearly shit myself when I saw the amount of blood in here!” He shudders dramatically. “But they’re both healed now, yeah?”

“Doesn’t make the situation any better.” Trinh tiredly rubs her eyes. “We can never pair them up again for training. I refuse to clean up that much blood again.”

“The reality is,” Minghao sighs, reaching over to pet her hair. “They fucking hate each other. I’m sure they’ll find another excuse to get into another bloody fight.”

“As much as I hated the fight as well, I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” Mingyu sighs. “This was a fight years in the making. We put those two together without any supervision of the professors, and what did we expect? Sunshine and chocolate frogs?”

“Their fighting in Hogwarts was child’s play compared to this,” Trinh groans, looking more tired by the second.

She shifts in her chair just enough for her to lean her head on Minghao’s shoulder, and he suddenly laughs. “Remember that time he spiked her ale with some babbling beverage right before potions class?”

A light chuckle comes from Mingyu. “Or that time she used locomotor mortis right before he leaned in for his first kiss with that Gryffindor girl and he fell right into her breasts?”

Minghao throws his head back with a loud snort. “Then there was that brilliant prank where he charmed her quill to write everything backwards during our O.W.L.S!”

“See? I’m telling you, they just need to fuck.” Mingyu lays his finger on the table to make his point. “They’ve already beat each other bloody.”

Minghao’s laughter slowly fades until his smile is no more, and reaches for his glass again. “Yeah, but he’s not the same boy as before.” He takes a final swig and downs the whole drink. “He’s changed.”

“We’ve all changed.”

Their heads all snap up to see Wonwoo standing at the end of their table. Minghao grimaces, and all traces of laughter have disappeared from his face. Looking forlornly into his half-empty glass, Mingyu stays silent as well.

“Done drinking for tonight?” He asks the trio, looking just as solemn as his crew of snakes.

Trinh throws her head back to finish hers and slams it back on the table. “Now I am.”

Mingyu holds up an empty glass for Wonwoo in offerance. “How are they doing? Still, being stubborn?

Wonwoo declines with a shake of his head and sits down to join them. “I don’t know what I expected from either of them,” he sighs. “She’s still fighting tooth and nail to get out of the room, and Seungcheol’s… well, you know how he gets when he’s moody.”

“Got the temper of a five-year-old.” Trinh shakes her head.

“But thankfully the medications are working well,” Wonwoo continues. “Wounds are pretty much all healed. I still think they need more time to mentally recover from their fight.”

“I’ve got high hopes for the Princess, but Seungcheol? Like that stubborn dickhead has any space in his thick skull to even comprehend how to do that.”

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo places a firm grip on his shoulder. “We’ve got to do something. He can’t keep going on like this, he’s only going to get worse.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” Mingyu snaps. “Like he’ll listen to any of us.

Minghao’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid the only way he’ll get any better is if he is dead, my friend.”

Days and weeks flew by in the cottage and the house was slowly coming into action once again. Mingyu and Jean were still flirting around in every room, Trinh could be found giggling away with Minghao whilst pretending to not care about anyone else.

And yet, you haven’t exchanged a single word with Seungcheol. It was harder than you expected, pretending like someone doesn’t exist under the same roof as you, but you were determined to see past him like a ghost. Unsurprisingly, he had shown you the same courtesy. Seungcheol even ate his meals alone in his room or in the room down in the basement.

Walking around the house post near-death-fight was an even bigger pain than before. There was an unspoken mutual agreement between the two of you, and that was to be completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Although the entire household was pushing for the both of you to make amends, it was clear that they have all underestimated both your stubbornness. You bet you could go months, maybe even years, pretending like Seungcheol didn’t exist within the same home as you.

While the lack of contact with the miserable imp was nice, the tension still weighed heavy in the air, and you knew it was beginning to suffocate the others as well. But as much as you felt bad for your housemates, they were the ones who forced you into this whole situation in the first place.

And so, he continued to act as if you were nothing but an echo in the hallways. He didn’t even sneer or frown, or show any physical signs of threats or discomfort. He simply acted as if you didn’t exist.

And you were fine with that.

Until, well, everyone else wasn’t.

The night hung heavy, and the moon cast a haunting glow on the house as you readied for sleep. You were seconds away from slipping under your covers when a timid knock echoed from your door. Wearily, you trudged over to answer, revealing a Wonwoo poised to knock again.

“Wonwoo?”

“Hi.”

“Can I help you?”

Wonwoo’s arms fall to his sides, his body rigid and expression wavering with hesitance. It was clear from his eyes that he was unsure of his presence at your door, especially at this late hour.

The past few weeks have admittedly been easier with the help of Wonwoo’s presence. He took care of you in little ways that you did not expect. He brought medicine with a cup of hot tea on the side for you every day. He would accompany you in silent book readings in the common room, discreetly sitting across from you in your favorite armchair to keep you company. And whenever you felt yourself about to be overcome with anxiety, somehow, almost miraculously, Wonwoo would appear to chase that sinking feeling of fear in your chest away.

Most times, he would ask if you’d like to accompany him in some tasks, like baking muffins for breakfast the next day, or flying on the broomsticks to help clean up the roof, or even picking flowers outside to make bouquets around the cottage.

Other times, he would make you a cup of tea and simply just sit by your side. He would make small talk if you felt like talking, but if you didn’t, he would just sit in silence with you. Sometimes, you would sit in silence for so long that your tea would grow cold, but by the time you noticed, Wonwoo had already gotten up to make you a fresh cup of tea to replace the cold one in your hands.

He had such a keen sense of your anxieties, you wondered if it was because he had the same fears as you.

A heavy sigh escapes you, heart feeling pity for the boy who has diligently stayed by your side everyday since the duel. “What is it?” Your voice is soft, speaking low to not be heard by others. “I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Oh— I’ll come back another night then—”

“Nonsense. Come inside.”

“I… I don’t want to take up too much of your time…”

“You spent the past three weeks putting me back together. You are allowed some of my time.”

He still seems hesitant. A jitteriness that was now making you nervous.

“What is it?” You ask in a tense whisper. “Did you get any news? Has someone else—”

“No! No, not at all,” He waves his hands quickly, immediately banishing the thought of losing yet another classmate. “I just— well, I’m not sure if this may come as a shock to you, but you must know that your fight with Seungcheol is making everyone else in the house deeply uncomfortable—”

You let out a deep sigh of relief. “Is this what you came in the middle of the night for?” Turning your back on him, you wave your hand back, motioning for him to leave your room. “Go to bed, Wonwoo.”

He grabs your left hand, making you halt in your tracks. Turning to face him, you saw the strain etched into his expression. His other hand pauses for a second before reaching over to pull up your sleeve. “Look at what's happened to you.”

Your hand whips out of his and you bring the sleeve down in a defensive rage. “What are you here for, Wonwoo?” You demand this time.

He gathers in a shaky breath as if he were afraid to speak another word out loud. “Have you ever heard of that spell?” His voice drops to a whisper, making sure that you are the only one that can hear him. “That was dark magic, nothing like what we were ever taught in school. Who do you think taught him that spell?”

“You think I care where you learned all your demented spells from?”

“Well you should! I know there’s been a difficult history between our houses, but we’re all here together now. We’re all classmates here, why can’t you just—”

“Just what? Want me to pretend like everythings okay? Like the outside world isn’t burning up all around us? Want me to forget what he’s done to me?”

“I’m not asking for you to forgive him or any of us, but I am asking you to just… accept the situation that we’re all in. Whether you like it or not, we are on the same side now.”

“Acceptance doesn’t come that easily, it’s something to be earned.”

His face falls. “Haven’t I?” Wonwoo’s eyes turn soft, yearning and desperate. “I was hoping that— that at least I am…”

Your heart clenches with guilt. “No… you’re right.” Shaking your head, you reach over to grab his hands in yours. “You’ve— you’ve been a great friend to me the past few weeks, and I can’t ever deny that, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

His shoulders relax, and he gently returns your grasp. Giving him a faint smile, you guide him into your room as he quietly closes the door behind him. Taking a seat together on your bed, facing each other, a sense of solemnity settles between you.

“This situation in the house…” Wonwoo’s voice is still cautious. “I felt like I needed to come to you, and tell you… if you and Seungcheol continue on this way, it will break us all apart.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“People are starting to walk on eggshells around here, and it’s because of you two.”

“Did you give him the same talk, or are you just lecturing me?” You snap, unable to hold down your annoyance at how everyone’s been treating you since the duel. That loathsome fuck was the one who almost killed you, and yet everyone’s coming to you to try and make amends?

“Oh, trust me,” Wonwoo almost chuckles. “He’s getting lectured by both Mingyu and Hao. You got the lucky end of the stick.”

You bit back a smile at that.

“But you know it’s true. We have to split up with dueling practice, we don’t gather anymore to hear Jun’s nightly news, and we just eat our meals separately now. There needs to be some unity between us in order for us to work together.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Since when did you become so pragmatic?”

“I’ve always been,” he responds in exasperation. “I might be friends with those idiots, but don’t lump me in with their antics.”

“You’ve revealed your true self to me six years too late,” You say wryly.

Wonwoo reaches over to grasp your hands again. “I know, and that’s exactly why I refuse to let this chance slip away.” His look is so serious, your smile drops. “Besides, haven’t you ever noticed? I was always the one to pull the boys out of the fights.”

You pause, genuinely considering his words. “I can’t say I have.”

Wonwoo scoffs lightly. “Course not. Your attention was always elsewhere.”

“Like where?” You raise a brow.

“You know where,” he raises a brow back at you. “But now your attention is needed here. I came here because I need you to understand.”

“Understand what, Wonwoo.” Frustration starts to build. “That we’re all in this together now? That we aren’t enemies anymore because we’re fighting on the same side? I get it,” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I still hate the bloody ass, but we’re stuck in this damned house for the same reason.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “Glad to see that you’re not in denial anymore, but it’s important you know why we ran away in the first place.”

“Because your malevolent Dark Lord is out there murdering people left and right?”

“You’re not wrong,” he says, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say that even his most devoted followers feared him. It might have seemed like we were just taking Dark Magic lessons from the Death Eaters, but we were prisoners there. We— we were taught all these different ways to torture, sometimes even forced—”

Your face contorts in confusion, a sick feeling starting to settle in your stomach. “Have you ever…”

“Never.” He shuts you down before you could finish your question. “But… we came close a few times.”

Your hands draw away from his as a chill runs down your spine. Wonwoo looks ashamed, his hands clenched into fists.

“They trained us to be like them. They wanted us to just be another soldier. They taught us how to fight, how to torture, how to kill. They tried to poison our minds.”

A familiar panic starts to fill in his eyes, and guilt washes over you. The fear you’ve developed since running away from the Death Eaters was nothing in comparison to what he went through. How could anyone come out of that normal?

“They made us watch every night. We watched every single muggle, muggle-born or “traitor” be tortured until death. The Death Eaters were creative for sure, I watched some of their bodies be twisted in ways they shouldn’t and others lose their sanity. And on nights where the Eaters had a bit too much to drink, they would make us test the curses out on each other.”

A silence falls on your face, horror-stricken.

“One night… I saw him, Seokmin’s father. I recognized him from the platform before boarding the train. Seokmin looked just like him, the same eyes and smile… I had no idea he was a Muggle. I tried to help him escape.”

Your hands finds his again, gripping his fingers, apologetic for pulling away in the first place. The panic slowly rising in Wonwoo’s eyes.

“I had no idea he was a muggle,” he repeats, the pained look in his eyes begging you to believe him. “I thought we were almost out, but I got caught. Cicero— he was the one who caught me.”

His fingers felt cold in your hands.

“That was the last time I saw his father,” he murmurs. “And Cicero took me away.”

He pulls one hand up to his buttons on his shirt, a slight tremble as he starts to undo them. “Right here,” he guides one of your hands up to the center of his chest. “Is where I have the same scars as you.”

Your heart shatters at the revelation.

He laughs bitterly as you trail your fingers down his disfigured skin. “We all have them. Mingyu has them on his chest as well. Minghao is growing his hair longer to hide the ones on his back, and Seungcheol…” he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never knew… I never imagined… the things you’ve been through,” your words fracture, not knowing what to say.

He’s back to smiling, a maddening reassurance you know he’s trying to give you despite the panic still in his eyes.

“Jean and I may have mended you back together, but Seungcheol cast the counterspell. He’s the one that saved you.”

“Seungcheol? But he’s the one who—”

“I know,” he nods. “He’s the one who used it on you in the first place, but when you were bleeding out in the common room, shirt torn apart and lifeless, it woke something back up in him.”

You shook your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to believe him, but there was a quiet stirring in your head.

“He was the Dark Lord’s favorite. He trained the most out of all of us, the Dark Lord wanted to use him for his plans, and after months and months of enduring his training… he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Tears start welling up in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. “Something inside him… just snapped.” A tear falls from his face. “He didn’t want to kill the headmaster, but he had no choice. He had to. My closest friend is broken now because of it, and— and I don’t know how to fix him.”

Your chest crumples at the sight before you.

“He’s made the Unbreakable Vow.” Wonwoo reveals. “I needed you to understand. He just wanted to live.”

#scoups scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #harry potter au #seventeen x harry potter #seventeen harry potter au #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo angst

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year ago

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If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 4 | The Reason

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Angst, Smut WC:11038 Masterlist Here

The nights are louder than he remembers. Full of the songs of the cicadas and peepers. The occasional croak of a bullfrog or the hoot of an owl. The distance sounds of traffic from streets away. Somehow it all seems much louder than the Upside-Down. Between the booms of thunder and howls of creatures, there were hours of absolute silence. It’s been six weeks, and Steve hasn’t forgotten how the silence made him feel. Anxious and defensive, like an itch he could never scratch.

Returning to his dark empty house, the quiet is more than he can stand. It’s become routine for him to sit outside on one of the loungers, watching the last rays of gold sink beneath the treeline, waiting for the sky to cycle through the palette of sunset until darkness finally gives way to the burst of stars. The nighttime sounds calm his worries. This is home. Sitting there, he tries to remember every detail so that it can never be taken from him again. Focusing on the pattern of shadows woven across the moon, he can’t help thinking about you. Are you looking up at the same sky?

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Nancy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts as she steps out of the house from the sliding glass door. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.”

“Of course not,” Steve says, twisting to look at her over his shoulder, “Come have a seat,” he gestures to the chaise beside him.

She moves into the space between the two loungers sitting down sideways so she can face him, folding her dainty hands in her lap. “I heard you were at Dustin’s all day today.”

“I put some shingles on that spot on the roof where the tree fell. They don’t need it leaking when it rains.” Construction is underway all over town. Minor projects are getting pushed down the waitlist as tradesmen try to complete the most lucrative jobs first, so Steve has been doing what he can to help his friends and neighbors.

“Well, that was nice of you,” she comments with a smile.

“Well, if you haven’t heard, I’m a nice guy,” he says with smug charm, his lips quirking on one side, aiming to pull an incredulous laugh from her.

“I think I may have heard that somewhere before,” she giggles, rolling her eyes before continuing, “You must be hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Nah, Mrs. Henderson made pot roast. She wouldn’t let me leave until I ate two helpings.” He rubs his flat stomach, smiling. Dustin’s mom always makes him feel like family.

“How about a movie then?” she asks, hope filling her voice.

“I’m exhausted, Nance.” He reaches out, patting her hand, “It’s a nice night. Stay here with me for a while.”

“You’ve been sitting out here a lot lately.” She looks down to where his hand covers hers.

“I never realized what I had until I almost lost it,” he says, pulling away from her and looking back towards the horizon. “I like it out here. It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Everything…nothing. I don’t know.” The longer he looks, the more stars come into view. Simple truths are relieved by just taking the time to look.

“You’ve been so distant.”

Her words have him turning towards her again. She’s still looking down, wrapping her arms around herself, her small hands disappearing into the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be,” he frowns, watching how she’s trying to protect herself, “Are you cold?” He sits up, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off his shoulders. “Here. Sit back.” He stands and waits for her to swing her legs onto the lounger before tucking his coat over her like a blanket.

“Thanks,” she pauses, settling into the leftover warmth, “I thought this would be our time, and I’ve hardly seen you. We haven’t… we’re barely ever alone together.”

He runs a hand through his hair before sitting sideways on the lounger, taking up her position from earlier. “I guess we haven’t,” he says, knowing he’s been neglecting her, but there’s not much left of himself to give, “Work is keeping me busy, and the kids–”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, frustrated by his excuses, “Volunteering at the shelter and doing odd jobs for free doesn’t count as work. And the kids don’t need you to babysit them anymore. Robin’s been back at Family Video for a few weeks now. She told me that Keith has called you.”

“I don’t want to go back to Family Video,” he says, looking away. He’s been over all this before with Robin. “I’m not ready.”

“I know it’s been hard. We’ve all been through so much, but Max is healing. The kids are fine. Everyone is moving on. It’s time for you to start your life.”

His mouth opens with surprise. “Nance, the kids aren’t fine. Have you seen them? Max is struggling.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Nancy, she’s blind. And it’s not just her. Haven’t you seen the way Lucas panics every time he has to leave her side, even for a few minutes?”

“Steve,” she sits up, his jacket slipping down around her waist as she swings her legs to the side, reaching across the space between them to take his hand, “Nothing you can do is gonna fix that.”

“I know that,” he mumbles, but even acknowledging it stirs his guilt.

“I think you should come with me to Boston.” her fingers tighten around his as if she can already sense his reluctance.

“Boston? For school?”

“I think you’ll really like it there. It’s smaller than Indianapolis, and there are all these great old buildings. I called Emerson, and I’ve got it all figured out. It’s not too late to get the money back from my room and board. We can get an apartment, and I can get a job on the weekends.”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be studying, not working,” he shakes his head, looking away, “I don’t even know what I’d do in Boston.”

“It’s a city. I’m sure you can find some job that you’d like. Anything is better than Scoops, right? Maybe you can even go to school?”

“Sure, Nance, I didn’t get in at Hawkin’s Community, but I’ll pull out that acceptance letter I got from Harvard.” his eyes roll.

“Then just be with me, Steve. Let’s try and make it work this time,” she moves her head, seeking his eyes, trying to break through the wall between them ever since he’s been back.

He swallows hard and meets her eyes. “I want to, but I can’t leave them.”

She blows out a deep breath and lets go of his hand.

“What if something happens? What if it starts again?”

“It’s not going to, Steve. It’s over,” she emphasizes, like it's something she’s explained before. “Why can’t anyone accept that?” Her question makes him realize maybe she has just not to him. He may not be the only one thinking of someone else. Steve has only seen Will a few times since he’s been home. The boy’s clothes were even looser on his slight frame, and purple skin circled his sunken eyes, and Jonathan wasn’t leaving for school in the fall.

“That’s what we thought the last time, Nance. That’s what we’ve thought every time,” he says, his voice quiet but resolved, “I need to stay until they graduate–”

“That’s three more years,” she complains.

“They need me.”

“I need you.”

“No, you don’t.” he gives her a soft smile, reaching for her again, “You never have, not even once.”

She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes before they can fall. There isn’t anything else she can say.

“Come’er,” he tugs her off her seat, pulling her into his side as he settles back onto his lounger. Her arm wraps around him as she rests her head on his chest, the worry coming off her in waves. “It’s going to be alright, he smooths his hand over her hair, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, snuggling closer, “Just don’t take too long.”

He holds her tightly as he looks back toward the darkened sky, the endless stars glinting as brightly as the moon. He tries to imagine his life with her in Boston, sitting on the rooftop of their tiny apartment. Would the stars shine as vividly with all the city lights? Would he still be thinking of you?

“Double check for any loose nails,” Steve instructs Dustin as he climbs down the ladder, his white t-shirt covered in sweat and dirt.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Dustin says smartly as he picks up the discarded singles that Steve had tossed down from the roof and throws them into the trash barrel.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the lawn mower,” he points his finger at the boy before picking up a bottle of water and taking a long pull. Despite the cool nights, the heat during the day still felt oppressive, and he could feel the tenderness of a burn beginning on the back of his neck.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the mower,” the boy mimics in a mocking voice before adding, “What an asshole.”

“Hey!” Steve fumes, settling his hands on his hips just as Mrs. Henderson comes toddling out of the house holding two glasses of lemonade.

“Oh boys, you finished! It looks so nice,” she says, handing the boys the lemonade and stepping back to admire the view, “You two did a great job.”

“You can’t even see it from down here, Mom,” Dustin scoffs. Earning a warning glance from Steve.

“Well, I can just tell,” Claudia Henderson informs her son, “It’s going to be such a relief not to worry every time it rains,” she says, turning her attention to the other boy, “I can’t thank you enough, Steven. I know you said I couldn’t pay you but here,” she pulls some folded bills from her pocket trying to hand them to Steve.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve waves his palms in front of his chest, “The pot roast was thanks enough. It’s been a while since I had a meal like that.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. Isn’t that right, Dusty?” She looks for confirmation from her son. When Dustins folds his arms across his chest with a mumble of ‘son of a bitch’, her face goes red with embarrassment. She recovers quickly, smiling at Steve, “Would you like to stay tonight? I’ve got a casserole already to go in the oven.”

“Well–”

“Not tonight, Mom,” Dustin cuts in before Steve can finish, “I’m going to Gareth’s for Hellfire.”

“Dusty, We’ve talked about this. I don’t think that’s safe after everything that’s happened,” Claudia says, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Mom. Eddie’s dead. What more do you want?”

“Watch it, Henderson,” Steve says, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Steven,” Dustin says, shrugging him off.

“Dusty!“

“Excuse us,” Steve says to Mrs. Henderson as he grabs Dustin by the collar and yanks him around the corner of the house.

“Since when do you talk to your mother like that?” Steve asks the boy as he releases him against the side of the house. “I know you’ve been feeling bad since Eddie, but you need to get this attitude in check. She doesn’t deserve that, and neither does anyone else.”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Dustin says, his voice rising in anger as he puts both hands on Steve’s chest and shoves him away. “You didn’t know him or care about him. Just do me a favor and add his name to the list of people you don’t give a shit about and forget you ever met him.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, confused. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Ding ding ding. Good detective work, Sherlock Holmes,” Dustin says, trying to walk away until Steve stops him, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“So help me, I may not win many fights, but I know I can kick your ass, you little shit,” he pushes Dustin back against the house. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Like you care,” the boy spits, his face red with anger.

“Of course I care!” Steve yells, waving his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Dustin challenges.

“What?”

“Just until you get to play the hero again. Right, Steve?” he asks sarcastically.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” Steve asks, catching on. How can he actually think that? “That’s what this is all about because I pushed you through the gate? I did that for you. So you wouldn’t get stuck there. Someone had to stay-“

“Don’t give me that. You did it to be the hero. I begged Eddie not to go back,” Dustin yells, his voice cracking, nose beginning to run, “He just wouldn’t listen, and neither would you. I don’t need another dead friend, Steve. I need you here.”

“I am here!”

“I heard you,” he says, swiping at his eyes, “When El found you, screaming for her not to take you. You don’t know what it took to get you out. To get that gate back open. What we risked. Tell me again how much you care about us.”

“You got this all wrong. I care about you. All of you,” Steve shakes his head and pulls the boy into a reluctant hug, “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, you understand?”

Dustin nods into Steve’s chest, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and Steve recognizes the gesture as his own. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out thick with emotion. “All I thought about was getting home, man. I just couldn’t leave her behind.”

Dustin sniffs, one arm reluctantly landing on Steve’s back. “There’s one thing I don’t get, Steve. If she was so important, then where is she?”

The polished silverware slides against each other, hitting the back of the drawer with a loud clank when Steve yanks it open with more force than necessary. He pulls out a fork and retrieves the open can of SpaghettiOs before heading outside through the slider of the sunroom. The conversation with Dustin plays on a loop in his mind. It’s clear the scars that they all bear are more than skin deep. How do you rejoin a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore?

He sits on the lounger stirring the tomatoey contents of the can. It’s later than usual. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon. A light mist hangs over the pool's surface, its blue-green light brightening the dark corners of the yard. With the thick clouds obscuring the waning moon and stars, the woods surrounding the yards stay shrouded in shadows. Decisions hang over his head like a knife about to drop, hurting the people he cares about. It’s not the past that’s hard to let go. It’s the future that was never supposed to be.

“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff cold,” Hopper’s voice comes from beside Steve just as the first bite passes his lips.

“I guess it’s just a habit now,” Steve replies as Hopper eases himself down on the chair beside him, a six-pack in his hand. He pulls one from the plastic ring, handing it to Steve before taking one for himself.

“Hmm,” Hopper cracks the tab of the Schlitz and takes a loud slurp, “Habits can be hard to break.”

Hopper had been dropping by Steve’s a couple of times a week since he had been home. Steve isn’t sure if this is Hopper’s way of checking up on him or if he just wants an hour of quiet before returning to the full house he shares with Joyce. Hopper has as much on his mind as Steve. Some nights they don’t exchange more than a few words. Whatever his reasoning for stopping by, Steve welcomes the company.

“So,” Steve says after washing down a couple more mouthfuls of Spaghettios with the cold beer, “If I needed to find the address for someone outside of town, is that something you could help me with?”

Hopper’s answer comes in the form of a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket, holding it out to Steve in between two fingers.

There’s a skeptical look on Steve’s face as he takes the paper from the older man. Hopper picks up his beer, going in for another sip as Steve unfolds the note, his eyes widening.

“You’re a damn good cop. You know that, right?” Steve asks, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his jeans.

“You’re not the first one to tell me, kid,” Hopper says, settling back into his lounge and looking to the sky where the clouds have shifted and thinned. Beams of light push through the thin wisps, brightening the darkness. “Whatta ya know?” Hopper says, pulling a cigar from the same pocket, “Looks like it might be a clear night after all.”

A light breeze blows the gauzy material of your sundress around your bare legs as you walk down the street toward your apartment. As you hitch your tote higher, the sun warms your shoulders, and a smile plays at your lips. The pieces of your life always find their way together like a jigsaw puzzle without the bigger picture. Forcing them into what you want never works, but eventually, they fit, a new section more beautiful than you imagined is laid out before you.

Your eyes lift from the sidewalk as a car speeds past, Higher Love blasting out of its open windows. The notes blend with the rush of wind through the trees that line your street. One yellow leaf flutters to the ground, an unmistakable sign that the end of summer is near. You watch the car cruise down the road until it passes the stone steps of your apartment. Your stomach and heart turn somersaults when you see him sitting there watching you from behind a pair of dark avatars, a million-dollar smile gracing his handsome face. Your pulse quickens as you approach, wondering if he will always have this effect on you.

“Hi,” he says, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the collar of his white tee just as the car turns the corner and the music fades away.

“Hi yourself,” you say, stopping in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

“I thought it was fair,” he shrugs, squinting up at you with one eye slightly closed. “We have unfinished business.” He moves his coat and an empty soda can to his other side, inviting you to join him on the steps.

Climbing a few, you sit next to him, letting the bag fall from your shoulder to rest beside you. “What’s this business?” you ask, your arms circling your knees.

He smirks in response, turning to pull something from his jacket. Returning with a cellophane packet of Twinkies in his hand. “The other pack got a little squished,” he explains as his long fingers tear open the packaging, “These are fresher. I checked the date.” He hands you one of the yellow cakes before taking the other for himself.

“Thanks,” you laugh, taking the slightly sticky treat from his hand. He brings his to his mouth but pauses, wanting to watch you take your first bite, and you oblige him. One hand hovering under your mouth to catch the crumbs as your teeth breach the soft cake. The sweetness is overwhelming you as much as his gesture. “Mmmm, that’s good,” you say with your mouth still full.

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling, taking pleasure in your reaction, at how it feels just being near you again like no time has passed.

“Mmmhmm.” Your tongue darts out, licking the filling from your lips, missing a tiny glob in the corner. Before you can make a second pass, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his mouth to taste. Behind you, the apartment door opens, and your neighbor from upstairs is maneuvering around you with a heavy box in his arms. Steve’s arm is around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, giving your neighbor more room to get by. It happens quick enough for you to feel dizzy. Five minutes ago, you didn’t think you’d see him again, and now he’s surrounding you, heat lingering like a ghost every place he touches you. The thin material of your skirt barely separates your skin from his Levi-covered legs, his mouth just inches from yours as he bites into his Twinkie.

Your hand shakes as you turn away from him to pull a bottle of water from your bag. Twisting the lid, you take a few gulps to give yourself a moment to regroup.

“Are you alright?” He eyes you with a curious expression. He knows you too well. “Is it okay that I’m here?” He asks, his voice dropping, turning serious.

“I’m always glad to see you, Steve,” you answer honestly. It’s the goodbyes that you can’t bear.

He takes a moment, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. “You look really pretty,” the corners of his mouth lift but not with charm or arrogance, with something much softer. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I saw you coming down the street, you looked happy. I didn’t get to see that when we were…there.”

“Thank you. So do you, but I kind of miss the axe.”

A laugh bursts from deep in his chest, “Yeah? Did that do it for you?”

“Definitely,” you giggle, nudging him with your shoulder, “Want some?” You tip your bottle towards him.

“Sure,” he takes it from you.

“It’s my new habit,” you nod toward the bottle, “I get a bit panicked if I don’t have water with me. Kinda crazy, right?”

“Nah,” he takes a sip before replacing the cap and handing it back to you, “That’s not so bad as far as habits go. It’s kind of a smart one, actually. I keep eating Chef Boyardee cold.”

“Eww.” Your nose scrunches.

“Right out of the can,” he chuckles, his fingers circling your wrist, gently pulling your arm into his lap, turning it to reveal the healing scar running down the inside of your arm. “I can’t stand the quiet at night,” he says without looking up from your arm. “I sit outside on my back deck for the noise. It’s where I think about you.” His long fingers trace the raised skin with the softest pressure. “I fall asleep out there most nights.”

“I sleep with the lights on,” you admit in a quieter voice, loving and hating how he touches you like you belong to him-like you’ll always belong to him. “And I stuff a couple of pillows behind me, so it feels like yo–like I’m not alone.”

His eyes lock with yours, and his fingers still. An ache that dulled over the past few weeks but never disappeared completely, crashes over you like a wave. You belong to him, but he’ll never be yours. Not here. Only in another world. Pulling your arm back, you wrap it back around your knees.

He frowns, sensing the shift between you, and changes the subject. “Were you coming from school?” he nods in the direction you came from.

“Oh. Um, yeah,” you say, following his eyes. The center of campus is a few blocks away from your apartment.

“Have classes started?” he asks, thinking about the answer he owes Nancy.

“No. Not for a few more weeks. I-uhh…I was changing my schedule. I’m not going to do fieldwork anymore. I’m going to teach instead. Maybe high school,” you explain.

“But you loved it,” his eyebrows pull together in a straight line.

The same expression your advisor gave you when you told him. “I know, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, an expression of guilt washing over his face.

“Hey, don’t feel bad for me. Teaching’s a good gig. Great hours. Summers off. There are worse jobs.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he says, recovering. “You can force all those kids to listen to your bad jokes.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, squeezing your knees tighter, “What about you? Have you figured out what you want to do yet?”

“No, not yet,” his head turns away, looking down the other side street, “Nancy wants me to come with her to Boston.”

Your heart cracks open even though you knew this was coming. “So you’re together again?”

He turns, shaking his head, “No. Not really. She wants to be.”

“And what do you want?” you ask, but your heart already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” both hands card through his thick hair, pulling on the ends, “I don’t know. It’s not that easy. The kids….Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Nothing’s made sense since the last time I was with you. That’s why I had to see you.”

“I think you know exactly what you want.” You place your hand on his knee, a gesture meant to comfort, but he takes full advantage, covering your hand with his, lacing his fingers through yours. You should pull away, but your heart pleads to take what you can. Goodbye is just on the horizon.

“You’ve loved her for so long.”

“It doesn’t feel right anymore,” he argues, leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“I think,” you pause, wetting your lips, and his eyes track the movement. “I think you’ve been making decisions thinking of everyone else for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to choose something that will make you happy.”

“What if the right thing,” his voice has dropped to just louder than a whisper as his nose runs along your cheek, “and what I want is the same thing?”

“Steve,” your breaths are coming in shudders from deep in your chest. Tears sting behind your eyes as a cruel voice repeats from the back of your mind. He’ll never choose you.

“Can we go inside?” his lips touch yours with the barest of brushes.

His question is a jolt of ice water up your spine. You’ve indulged yourself too long. If you let him in now, tomorrow when he’s gone, you won’t recover. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, pulling back. You let your resolve steel your spine as you stand. Climbing a few steps, putting distance between you.

He stands, trying to follow. Sadness and confusion marring his pretty face. “Honey– "

You stop him with a hand held out in front of you. “All of this. Everything we’ve been through. It happened so you can get what you’ve always wanted. So she can see you. Don’t throw it away, Steve. You’re going to thank me someday.”

His mouth opens, but he can’t find the words. Stepping forward, you throw your arms around him in a hug too quick for him to return before you step back. “I’m so happy to have seen you again.” you smile, working hard to keep your tone enthusiastic, promising yourself you will not fall apart despite the pain. Not this time. “Send me a postcard from Boston, okay?” you ask, but you’re already turning away, pulling your keys from your tote, and moving to the door.

“I miss you,” he says. The pain in his voice makes you pause and close your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone before, not the way I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you turn back to him. You know he’s trying, but it’s not enough, not after having him. He’s still not choosing you, and you deserve someone who will, even though it’s so tempting to give in to him.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you next time,” you keep it light, “I’ll show up in Boston when I need someone to share a Twinkie. Take care of yourself, Steve,” you push your key into the lock.

“Wait. Wait, he says, waving his hands before they settle on his hips, “If you’re so sure I’m supposed to be with her, then what’s your reason? Why were you there? Why did we even meet?”

Your eyes shift to your shoes, trying to find an answer that isn’t a lie, reasoning that it’s okay to lie if it’s for his own good. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

The lock clicks before he can say anything else, and you quickly seal yourself on the other side. You wait until you see him walking down the steps to let yourself into your apartment. Immediately dropping your bag and leaning your back against the door. Your hand moves to your stomach as you silently apologize for your lie. Pushing away, you walk through your tiny kitchen to the refrigerator. Rubbing your eyes, you refuse to let a tear fall. You won’t regret doing the right thing. Your hand wraps around the handle before you yank it open and pull out a juice container. “It was the right thing,” you whisper, letting the door swing closed, revealing the black and white strip of photos of a small blurry shape taped to the other side. “For all of us.”

The buzzing from the cars zooming past in a haphazard flow does nothing to calm Steve’s nerves as he makes the long drive back to Hawkins.

“Fuck,” he slams his hand against the wheel as the memory of you closing that door, shutting him out of your life, replays in his mind. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. He shouldn’t have pushed. After being apart for so long, he should have known better. But seeing you come down the street, having you so close–it was like no time had passed. It felt natural to touch you. He had just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see that you were alright, but the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips had only made him want more. And then, just like before, it was over before it really began.

Steve snaps off the radio, cutting off Lindesy’s pleas. One thing had come out of it, though. He had gone to you looking for clarity, and you had given it to him. You were right. He does know what he wants. He keeps the radio off, rolling down the window, listening to the sounds of life around him. Watching the highways turn into towns and more familiar roads until he was crossing the Hawkins town line. Passing the turn for Cornwallis, he heads north toward Maple. The house is dark when he pulls into the driveway, his lights bouncing off the second-story window he had climbed through more than a few times before. But not tonight. He turns the key, pulling it from the ignition, the leather creaking as he leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. The light’s still low, just breaking, when the knock on his window wakes him. The blue of Nancy’s eyes is brighter than the sky as she stands barefoot, freezing her nightgown. She takes his hand as they walk inside.

“I’m working on it, Flo,” Hopper yells in response to the knock at his closed office door. He scrambles for the empty file folder stuck between his booted feet and the desk that they are resting on. He wraps the folder around the copy of Car and Driver that he’s been reading and quickly shoves the half-eaten donut into his top drawer. Replacing it with a red apple that he takes a big bite of just as his door swings open.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says as Steve wanders into his office, shutting the door behind him and sitting heavily in the chair in front of Hopper’s desk.

“What do you want?” Hopper asks as he settles back further in his chair, his eyes moving back to the file folder he’s holding up in front of him.

“How about a job?” Steve asks, his eyes roving around the small office.

“Ha, good one,” Hopper chuckles, pulling out a camel from his breast pocket.

“I’m serious, Hop.”

Hopper narrows his eyes as he lights his cigarette. “What’s gotten into you, kid? Having regrets about not leaving with Nancy a few weeks ago?”

“No. Nothing like that. It was never gonna work out,” Steve says, shaking his head. He said goodbye to Nancy the morning she found him outside her house. He loved her, but they weren’t right for each other. It would have left them both broken if they’d forced their lives to fit together. So, he let her go like you had let him go with affection and without regrets. Another chapter closed.

“I’m ready to figure out what to do with my life.”

Hopper stays quiet, taking another drag from his smoke.

“I figure I’m pretty good at helping people, so that’s what I want to do,” Steve shrugs.

“This isn’t just helping old ladies across the street, Harrington,” Hopper says, sitting up in his chair and blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “It’s hard work.”

“Yeah, I can eat donuts and read Car and Driver, too, Chief,” Steve says, waving a hand toward Hopper.

“Watch it, kid,” Hopper says, slamming the magazine on his desk and stubbing out his cigarette, “What happened with the girl?”

“The girl?” Steve questions

“You went to see her, right?” Hopper asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Steve says, looking away.

Hopper’s jaw tightens as his eyes turn to slits under thick eyebrows.

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, crossing one leg over the other. “She wasn’t interested.”

“Let me get this straight. You went there?”

“Yup.”

“Knocked on her door?”

“Waited for her to get home half the day.”

“Then you told her you weren’t going with Nancy?”

“Well–“

“And that you’re in love with her.”

“Not exactly.”

“You are in love with her?”

“I–”

“What’s wrong with you, Harrington?” Hopper asks, gripping the edge of his desk, “Are you stupid or something?”

“Jesus, Hop,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have you seen them out there?” Hopper’s uniform-covered elbow slams down on the desk as he points to the closed door, “I’m full up on stupid. Now,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I might have something for someone who’s got their shit together, but right now that aint you, Harrington. So, come back and talk to me when you do.”

“Hop, I–“

“I don’t want to hear it, Harrington. You might be able to do some real good someday, but right now, I’m busy. Important police business to take care of,” Hopper says, propping his feet back up on the desk and burying his face in the magazine.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s sentimentality or sheer curiosity that drew him here, but he did know as soon as he saw the stack of folded afghans being placed in a box at the shelter that this is where he’d end up. On first approach, the cottage doesn’t appear much different than the one in the Upside-down. The tiny home still remained obscured by tall sugar maples and eastern white pines. White curls of paint still clinging to the old timber walls next to sturdy black shutters. But the well-tended beds of colorful flowers that line the walkways and front of the cottage give it a more inviting feel.

His shoes scrape up the stone steps, where he stops to take a fortifying breath preparing to see the woman that used to haunt his bad dreams. His knuckles wrap against the door while flashes of himself cutting away vines play in his mind.

“Mrs. Willard,” he calls after hearing a series of loud coughs on the other side of the door.

“Just a minute. Just a minute,” Her voice gets closer as he hears the locks being worked before the door swings open, “Jesum crow, give an old lady a minute to get to the door.”

Anne Willard’s full height barely put her at the center of Steve’s chest. Her poof of white curls gave her an extra few inches, as well as the sensible black shoes that adorned her feet. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any,” she huffs, ready to slam the door.

“I’m not selling anything, ma’am,” Steve says, giving her one of his best smiles, “I’m Steve Harrington, a volunteer from the shelter over at the middle school. I don’t think anyone thanked you for donating all those blankets, so I wanted to stop by and ask if there was anything I could help you with around your property.”

“Help me?” She takes a step forward, her balled hands landing on her hips, head tipped up to look Steve in the eye, “Do you think I’m senile? Can’t take care of myself?”

“No, ma’am. I know you’re alone out here, and I thought I could be useful.”

“Humph. Well, I guess we’ll have just to wait and see about that,” she says, her clear blue eyes as sharp as a woman half her age, “You better come inside then.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the door open, and Steve with no choice but to follow her. His eyes roam the familiar space. She must not have changed a thing in her home since time stopped in the Upside-down. He feels like he’s lived a lifetime here instead of only a few days.

“Tea,” Mrs. Willard says, raising her finger as she starts down the hall leading to the kitchen. Steve follows her, ghosts echoing in his heart as he passes the closed door of the bedroom where he made love to you.

The kitchen is the same, with brighter sunlight pouring through the windows and backdoor. Fresh flowers stuffed in pitchers dot surfaces between the knit-covered crockery. The older woman stops in front of the butcher block countertop, pushing up on her toes to reach for two mugs from the open shelving.

“Let me do that, Mrs. Willard,” Steve says, reaching beside her and retrieving the mugs.

“Enough with the Missus stuff. Anyone who makes tea in my kitchen calls me Anne,” she says, shuffling to the table and sitting, “The kettle is right there on the–”

But Steve already has the kettle filling. The knited cozy folded neatly near the stove.

“Well, you certainly know your way around a kitchen,” she says, looking at him with a curious eye as he starts the kettle boiling and drops the teabags into the cups.

“I remember you,” she says when he turns and leans against the counter, “I know your mother. You used to run around town with your little gang like you were the Prince of Hawkins. So tell me, have you done any growing up since then?”

“I’d like to think so,” he says as the kettle starts to sing. He pulls it from the stove, pouring water into each mug, and brings both cups to the table.

“Now,” she says, folding her hands in her lap while waiting for the tea to steep, “Is there anything I need doin’? Let’s see, I had the gutters cleaned a few months back. I mow my own lawn and tend to the garden. Besides that, there’s not much else to do. My Jacob built this whole place himself, and it’s just as sturdy as the day we moved in.”

“You have a beautiful home, Anne,” he comments, trying out her first name. “You don’t see places built this solid.” The cottage was the only house they came across in the Upside-Down that was mainly untouched by the decay.

“He built it as a wedding gift. He knew I loved the lake. I just wish we had more years here together. So much wasted time.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three wonderful years. Not enough,” she smiles sadly, sorting through her memories. “We got married at nineteen, but that was considered late at the time. We met when I was sixteen, and everyone knew Jacob was sweet on me right from the start. Walking me home, and bringing me flowers, but every time he asked to take me out, I turned him down flat. I thought he was too good for me. You see, Jacob was from a very well-to-do family. Things like that mattered so much more back then. I told him he shoulda been courting Ellen-Mae Sattler. Her family owned the quarry and half the town. It was no secret she had her sights set on him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every time I sent him away, he’d just come right back.”

“How did he finally convince you,” Steve asks, completely wrapped up in her story.

“Well, one day he just showed up with a ring and said, ‘I love you, Annie, and if you turn me down, it’s not going to make one lick of difference cause I’m just gonna keep on loving you anyway.’ We got married three days later." Her lip quivers as her eyes turn glossy. "The Lord knows I miss that man every day. Suppose I’ll be joining him soon enough.”

“I know he’ll be waiting, Anne,” Steve says, covering her hand with his.

“Oh well, now I’ve gotten all weepy,” she says, picking up a napkin to dab at her eyes. “Now, what about you, young man? Do you got a girl out there that you love like that?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile ghosting his lips, “I definitely do.”

A bright flash lights up your small living room, follows a round of thunder rattling the rain-streaked windows. Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you sit on your worn couch with your knees pulled up, tucked under your oversized Perdue sweatshirt, you take deep soothing breaths. There have been storms since you’ve returned, but not like this. Not the kind that has the entire sky dark and purple with near-constant thunder. Not the kind with so much lighting, the hair on your arms stands up straight, and you can feel electricity buzzing in the air. It’s taken you right back there, and this time you’re alone.

With another loud boom, the lamp in the corner of the room cuts out, and the room falls into near darkness. “One-two-three,” you count, trying to keep your voice steady and breathing even. As suddenly as it turned off, the light flares on, and the display on your VCR flashes zeros. A deep sigh escapes your chest just as the door buzzer sounds.

Your muscles are stiff with tension as you stand up, moving towards the intercom, “Who is it?”

“It’s Steve.” The sound of his voice is barely audible over the pouring rain. One hand moves to your mouth while your thumb punches the button, unlocking the door. Here he is, saving you again.

Your fingers shake as you work the locks as quickly as you can, opening the door to him standing there half-drenched, hair dripping onto the collar of his soaked gray jacket, a wet crumpled bag in his right hand. He hasn’t taken a full step over the threshold when you are crushing yourself into his chest, your arms going around his middle. Stiffening, he swallows hard before dropping the bag, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He’s freezing but somehow still filling you with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you say against his chest, “The storm.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, pulling you closer, letting his hands trail up and down your back, “you’re alright.”

The feel of his lips ghosting at your temple brings you back to awareness, and you step away from him, heat rising from your chest to your cheeks. “Sorry,” you say again, yanking on the cuffs of your sweatshirt, “You picked a good time to drop by,” you chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he laughs with you, “Would you mind if I come in then?”

“Ohmygod,” you cover your face with your hands, “Of course.”

Your eyes shift around your kitchen, trying to remember what you might have left out as he picks up his bag and follows you through your apartment into your living room. A small one-bedroom subsidized by the university, is a step up from the dorms you were lucky to get. The galley kitchen leads into the small living room, big enough for a sofa and a desk, that surface overflows with books and papers.

“Nice place,” he says, concern filling him as he watches you flinch with the next flash of lightning.

“Thanks.” You stand in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do now, watching as he unzips his wet jacket revealing a crisp Polo. He carefully folds it, trying to avoid tracking more water through your apartment, and looks around for somewhere he can put it down.

“Let me get you a towel,” you say, rushing from the room down the narrow hallway, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The wind picks up outside. The storm is right over you now. Branches of the tree outside your bedroom sway back and forth, scraping against your windows. The bi-fold doors of the overstuffed closet stick when you try to pull them open.

“Shit,” you cry when they won’t budge more than an inch.

“Everything okay?” Steve’s worried voice calls from the living room.

The lights flicker as quick snaps of lightning flash like a strobe while you tug harder on the handles. Thunderclaps roar loud enough to shake the entire building as the doors burst open with one last tug that sends you falling backward onto your butt as half your closet empties onto the floor.

“No,” you press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed as panic and frustration claw their way up inside you. Ignoring how your head swims, you move to your knees, chasing loose geodes scattered across the floor, when you feel his hands on your shoulders.

“Leave it for now,” he says, his warm hands covering your shaking ones as he helps you to your feet. “It’s not important. We’ll get it cleaned up in a minute.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod, trying to slow your breathing.

“It’s okay.” He cups your jaw, tipping your head back so you’re focused on him. The deep hazel of his eyes pulls you in. “Stay with me. I’ve got you, okay? It’s you and me.”

Your hands move to his chest, bunching the fabric into your fists, bringing him closer. Despite the questions that swirl lost somewhere in your mind, you can’t deny yourself the comfort he offers.

“I won’t leave you.” His chest tightens, hoping this is a promise he’s allowed to keep.

“Why aren’t you in Boston?” you ask as a tear spills over your lash line.

“Honey,” his eyes soften as his thumb strokes your cheek, “I was never going to Boston.”

As his arms move around you, bringing you close, you let out a breath that you feel you’ve been holding since you woke up in the hospital. One that has been keeping you from falling to pieces because now you can—he’s holding you together.

Without leaving the safety of his arms, you let him lead you to the couch. Your head finds a home on his chest, and you bring your legs up, curling into him. Something warm gets tucked around you. He holds you close as the storm rages outside, his heartbeat lulling you into calm. At some point, your eyes must have closed because the sound of light rain is the next thing you remember.

“It passed,” Steve says, tightening his hold on you when he feels you stirring, hoping he doesn’t have to let you go yet. Content to stay, you snuggle in deeper, tugging the afghan tighter around you both. The familiar softness of the downy yarn catches your attention.

“Wait, where did you get this?” you ask, sitting up, the scalloped edges running between your fingers, give way to a pattern of multicolored flowers.

“I went to the cottage. Mrs. Willard gave it to me, but I knew right away that it belonged with you.” His arm slides from your shoulder, traveling the length of your back.

“You went there?” An ache runs rampant through your chest. As the sensible voice inside you begs you not to let him climb through the cracks into your heart.

“I needed to see it,” he takes your hand, eager to keep the connection, “it was exactly the same. She hasn’t changed a thing. I asked if she needed any help, but as it turned out, the only thing she needed was someone to listen.”

"And what did she say?"

“She just talked,” he shrugs. “She told me about her husband and their life together. It made me realize how much time I’ve wasted,” he lifts his eyes to yours, “You were right, I know what I want. I want you. You’re the one I can’t live without.”

After all these weeks, the words you didn't dare dream of fall easily from his lips. Leaving what was left of your battered armor to shatter and fall away.

“I should never have left you in the hospital, and I should never have said goodbye. I should have fought for you like I did there. I know you don’t think we belong together, but you loved me. Is there any part of you that still does?”

“I never stopped.” The tears run down your face faster than you can wipe them away. “I can’t. I love you, Steve.”

His eyes light up at your confession. His lips pull tight into a smile as he leans forward, dipping his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“I love you,” you start again, choking on the words, “But there are things you don’t know about. Things that could change your mind.”

The secret you’ve been keeping is a band on your heart, constricting its beats. One that you know will change everything.

“Honey, whatever it is…I love you. We survived the world burning down around us. We can make it through anything.”

His hand moves to your neck, but you push him away, “No, Steve, you don’t understand,” you hiccup as the tears blur your vision. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay. I promise,” His thumbs wipe away your tears, “Let me get you some water, and you can tell me.” He stands, leaving you for the kitchen while you try to find a way to tell him.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Steve would do the right thing, and that’s exactly why you couldn’t tell him. He would stay with you out of obligation, and one morning you’d wake up to resentment written all over his face as he trudges through the day instead of living out his dreams. You won’t take that from him. So you’ll tell him, and then you’ll let him go for the last time taking your heart with him. The cabinet bumping closed reminds you of what's pinned on your fridge.

“Steve, wait!” you scramble toward the kitchen, but you're too late. He turns the corner, his eyes lowered to the ultrasound photos he’s carrying in his hands.

You stand still, quiet sobs wracking your chest, like a chess piece on a board waiting to see if his next move will knock you down.

His eyes finally rise, full of hurt and shock. "You're having my baby."

You owe him so much more than the nod of your head, but the words stay lodged in your throat. The sound of soft rain hitting the windows fills the silence between you. He carefully sets the strip of scans on your desk, making sure they have their own spot like they’re something precious. He staggers toward you, moving slowly like he’s afraid to frighten you, his face still in a daze.

“I’m sorry,” you manage as he stops before you. He shakes his head from side to side, keeping his eyes lowered.

“You don’t have to…”

Your words trail off as he sinks to his knees. Placing a gentle hand on your belly, he leans forward until his forehead rests softly beside it.

“Hi,” he whispers, “I’m your dad.”

His fingers stroke feather light where his child is growing inside you. He’s never imagined anything more beautiful.

“You want us?” you ask in whispered tones, “Are you sure?”

“Honey, you’re giving me family. It’s all I have ever wanted.” His lips press softly against your belly.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh taking your fears with it. The love you feel for him—him and the part of him inside you, cracks open your heart until it’s filling every part of you with such a force you’re surprised you can’t see it glowing under your skin.

“Are they okay?” he asks, lifting his head, keeping his hand where it is, his eyes glossy as he looks up at you, “Is the baby okay? The Upside-down..”

“Yes,” you say, interrupting, not wanting him to worry for a second, “The baby’s fine. Developing normally. I had the ultrasound early, to be sure.” You cover his hand with yours, and he sighs in clear relief, his other hand grabbing your hip.

“You're my reason. Both of you,” he says, pulling you closer, “I’ve never been more sure.”

“You’re mine too,” you say, dropping to the floor to join him, your hand moving to his stubbled cheek, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore,” his hand cradles the back of your head, “I love you, and I’m going to take care of you if you’ll let me?”

“How about we take care of each other?”

His lips stretch into a smile before he leans forward, and they close over yours. "Deal," he agrees, going back for another kiss.

Your arms wind around his neck as he pulls you tightly against him. The plush of his lips working lazily around yours. Steve was right. He had held you like this while the world burned around you, expecting your last act to be loving each other. A love that is rare and true and written in the stars. A love that will survive the test of time. Time that neither one of you will take for granted. Living fully in each minute, watching your love grow into a family. You can feel all this in the press of his lips. The stories of your future are printed there.

"I love you," he says again because he wants you to know loving you was never a choice. His fingers move under the edge of your sweatshirt lighting trails of fire along your skin as his kiss changes from slow to hungry.

"Can I touch you?" He asks. Even though his hands are already on you, he wants your permission to go further.

"Please," you pant, already on the edge of being consumed with want, "I need you, Steve."

"I need you too, honey. Need to know you're mine." His hands lift the edge of your sweatshirt, and you raise your arms, helping him rid you of it. He barely glimpses what he's uncovered before you pull at his Polo, stretching the fabric in your greed to feel his skin against yours. He takes you back in his arms, and it feels like home. Your soft skin a contrast to the thatch of hair on his chest as you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own. The wet slide of his kiss only makes you want more. Want all of him.

Your whimpers drive his urgency as he lets you go to retrieve a pillow from the couch and carefully lays you back on it. His fingers grip the waistband of shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs.

"You look so pretty all laid out for me," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting back on his heels, his big hand landing where your knees are pushed together, "but I want to see all of you."

Your fingers trace your kiss-bitten lips, feeling the ghost of his as your thighs fall open, revealing the glossy evidence of exactly what he does to you. His fingers run absently up and down your inner thigh as he looks his fill wearing the expression of a man about to take what's his.

"Steve," you whine, feeling impatient while your hands move to your breasts adding a graceful slow roll of your hips to remind him he can do more than just look.

"Fuck, honey. How did I ever stay away from you?" he asks, crawling over to place a kiss just above your belly button, the first in a slow trail ending at the top of your pussy. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you open for his first slow lick up your center that sends your back arching off the floor.

“You taste so good. I’m already addicted,” he says, eyes catching yours before his mouth closes over you in a wet assault, tongue swirling through your folds, drawing circles around your clit.

“No one,” you gasp, clawing at the carpet while your hips fight against the press of his hands, “No one has ever made me feel this way.”

You can feel him smile against you as he slides two fingers inside your velvety heat moving in and out of you steadily, curling upward to brush against the spot that adds a new layer of euphoria radiating through you.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel like this,” he pauses to kiss the plush of your thigh. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he returns his attention back to your pleasure. He groans with your gentle tugs, the vibrations rippling against your core.

“Need to get you ready for me, honey,” he says, adding a third finger. Biting down on your lip, you hiss through your teeth at the slight sting of the stretch. He gives you time to adjust, waiting until your slick soaks his fingers.

His pace quickens, changing those quick jolts of lighting into a blur of rapture. Your walls tighten as your body tenses. Your chorus of desperate moans his new favorite tune.

"That's it, give it all to me. Cum for me, beautiful." His lips close over your clit, sucking in short bursts. Your blood sings with the new sensations rushing through you, turning molten as you rise like a fiery star.

Calling his name, you fall over the edge into bliss, the world ceasing to exist beyond your connection. He helps you float down with gentle touches and light kisses placed on your belly. He can’t fight back his smile as he looks down at you. A face that he memorized every detail of, now glowing with his love and his child. He didn’t have to die to become the man he wanted to be. He just had to open his heart.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s there, deep moss swirling with amber and gold filled with love. From the first moment you met, you placed your faith in him, and fate has led you to a love you never thought you’d find. After the uncertainty, the struggles, and the fears have fallen away, love is all that is left between you.

He’s chosen you, and you, him. Once in another world and again in this one. A life together that was fought for and hard-won. As the page turns, you’re no longer fearful of what's next, knowing you’ll be together. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll take his hand and welcome the adventure.

Epilogue

"And that's why you don’t take life for granite."

A chorus of groans erupts as the students gather their books and papers when the shrill bell sounds over the loudspeaker.

"Hey, I better start getting some more laughs out of you all, or I'll be forced to assign more homework," you call out over your shoulder as you erase the formulas you had written on the blackboard.

"Will we see you later, Mrs. Harrington?" says the ringleader of a group of four boys lingering around your desk.

"Sorry, guys. No AV club tonight," you tell them as you settle into the creaking chair behind your wooden desk, "I've got plans. Next week, alright?"

"I bet you're going to be busy getting set up to watch the Perseid meteor shower?" questions Travis, the overly enthusiastic one. With a mouth full of braces and a head full of curls, he reminds you of someone else you know.

"Something like that," you smile, thinking about your plans as you tidy the papers on your desk, adjusting the large geode next to your nameplate.

"Alright, see you tomorrow," they concede, shuffling out, their disappointment already forgotten by the time they make it to the door.

"See you tomorrow," you call after them as Tina, an 8th grader with hearts in her eyes, squeezes past them into the doorway.

"A policeman in the office is asking to see you, Mrs. Harrington."

"Thank you, Tina. Can you please tell him I'll meet him outside?" you can barely hide your smile, knowing exactly why he’s here.

"Sure," she says, leaning her head against the edge of the door frame, "He's really dreamy."

“Alright, Tina,” your eyes roll, “Get to where you're supposed to be.”

She’s quick to follow instruction as you finish preparing for your next class. Leaving your room, you walk through the quiet halls and across the empty gym, the sound of your heels clicking against polished floors. Pushing open the set of double doors at the far end, a warm hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you outside into the shade of the building and maneuvers you up against the hard brick wall.

“Mmm,” you whine as Steve pulls away the collar of your blouse and attaches his lips to the spot where your pulse is speeding up, “You're going to get me in trouble,” your voice already breathless, as your hands move to his head holding him there.

“I can’t help it,” he says, running his hands along your sides, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’ve got me so distracted.”

“Is that so?” you ask as his lips brush over yours.

“That’s so.” His thumb tugs at your chin, coaxing you to open so he can take the kiss deeper. “I can’t even concentrate..” His words trail off as his mouth takes yours, kissing you like he did that very first time. Like you’re the only woman in the world. Like he adores you.

“Steve,” you mumble against his lip as your hands smooth up the front of the crisp tight-fitting blue button-up. Seeing him in uniform never fails to make you ache with need. The top two buttons are always undone, revealing the white shirt he wears underneath with just a glimpse of the hair on his chest showing and a shiny silver badge pinned just left of his heart. Your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck that he still wears too long to be regulation.

“What did the doctor say this morning?” He asks as one of his hands slides lower on your hip, down the side of your skirt, dipping just under the hem.

“He gave me the all clear,” you breathe out, pulling his mouth back to yours as his hand continues to climb until it finds the lacy edge of your stocking and the garter it’s attached to.

"Are you wearing lingerie?" His fingers get bolder seeking out more of the lace.

"It's new," you answer, grinding yourself against his hardening length, “I thought you deserved it. You’ve been taking such good care of everything since the baby.”

“Jesus, honey,” he groans, tipping his head back and slapping his hand against the rough wall of the building, “How am I going to wait until the kids are in bed?”

“You won’t have to. Hopper is picking up the boys after hockey, and Joyce already has the baby,” two of your fingers start walking down the front of his shirt, brushing against the leather of his belt, heading lower to the flat front of his tight black pants. “We’ll have the house to ourselves until tomorrow.”

“What about Fate?” He asks, his eyebrows pulling together, always the protector of his other favorite girl.

“She’s having a girl's night with El and Max.” you smile, knowing he would ask about your oldest. You set up this plan weeks ago. Waiting to be together after the birth of your babies is just as hard on you as it is on him.

“You’re sneaky.” His hand reaches around you to give your ass a little squeeze.

“You love it,” you admit pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he says as the bell rings again, projected through the speaker over your heads.

“I’ve got to go,” you swat his hand away so you can straighten your skirt.

“Not yet,” he pouts, using a finger to trace your neckline, pulling it away from your body, “Just let me have a little peek,” he tries looking down the front of your blouse.

“Get out of here,” you laugh, giving him a gentle push.

“Fine,” he grumbles with a smile, turning to walk back to where his cruiser is parked.

“Tonight,” you call, making him turn and look back at you.

“Tonight,” he says, raising the fingers of his left hand to his lips, the sun glinting off the gold band on his fourth finger, “and forever.”

The End

AN: Thank you so much for sticking with this little series. It challenged me in ways that I never expected, but I learned a lot writing it.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #if tomorrow never comes #steve harrington x fem #stranger things smut

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seiya-starsniper · 3 months ago

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Hey 👋🏻 I’m the omega-dream anon! Pleeeeeease make it Dreamling!?

Can you imagine hob really really trying to get dreams attention as a potential alpha mate? And maybe he’s scared to be rejected because he’s just a normal guy and could never afford the lifestyle Dream is used to? Or maybe he’s rich as hell but dream still resents him for it? Or maybe… I’m sorry, I just can’t stop thinking about it and I’m so happy you like the idea! Whatever you’re going to come up with, I know it’s going to be great! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Yeeeessss you got it! 😄 Hob works VERY well for this fic, and also, I am a sucker for enemies to lovers so asshole rich guy Hob who oops accidentally actually falls in love with Dream is probably in the cards for this one 👀 I am very delighted you're as excited for this idea as I am, this trope scratches a very specific itch of mine that will not be ignored ehehe.

Here's a little snippet for you:

Click. Click. Whoosh. Click. Whoosh. Click Click. Click. Dream stares past the camera, his eyes focused on a discolored spot on the wall instead of his photographer for the day, feeling utterly bored. He’s hardly moved in the last hour, having been directed to stand perfectly still as photo after photo of his perfectly painted face is captured for the benefit of his potential mate. No. Not a potential mate. A potential alpha. A jailer. A buyer. Dream had known, ever since he’d presented as an omega in his teens, that he was living entirely on borrowed time. Omegas were rare, and highly coveted in society, a status symbol of power and virility that could not be easily obtained with wealth alone. So whenever one presented, the omega was often mated almost immediately. Dream has been unmated for nearly five years now, and at twenty years old, his parents are more than eager to sell off their omega son rather than wait for his prospects to completely dry out.

#dreamling #seiya answers #seiya's wip previews #dreamling omega auction wip

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umbrella-show · 10 months ago

Text

Platonic ROTTMNT X Sibling Reader who like to pick at their scabs

Sorry this request was so so late 😭 I'm currently focusing on school and don't have much time to write so until the final part of the platonic yan rottmnt comes out I'll be posting shorter rottmnt stories from time to time :)

(sorta unedited)

Little sibling reader who likes to pick at their bruises and scabs. I honestly can relate to this cause I also pick at my scabs often out of boredom. And then I wonder why they’re never gone. Requested by @sublimebarbarianpuppy

—

Raph

-Is constantly checking on your wounds every few days to make sure they’re healing properly.

-If he catches you in the act of picking or scratching at your injuries, he’ll gently take your hand and walk you to where the medical kit is to patch up the wounds again.

-All the while he’s gently scolding you about how your injuries are never going to heal if you don’t let them and if you continue they could get infected.

- He’s just worried :(

-He knows it’s a bad habit for you to break but he will do his best to make sure you aren’t harming yourself.

Leo

-He checks on you as well, but he’s sneaky about it.

-He’ll watch from a distance and make sure you can’t see him monitoring you.

-If he sees you begin to scratch and pick on your wounds he’ll silently leave his hiding spot, lean against the wall and clear his throat loudly.

-You flinch every time. He always catches you off guard. You never hear him coming.

-He thinks it’s funny if you try to hide it. Like he didn’t just catch you doing something he strictly told you to not do

-Then he’ll take you to be patched up by Donnie or Raph, and remind you later to refrain from making your wounds worse.

- He’s light on the scolding since he knows it’s something that you have trouble stopping, but he reassures you that he’ll try and ask Donnie for creams or oils that can make your wounds not itch as much.

-He tries to bribe you and tell you he'll give you candy (way more than Donnie let's you have) if you don't touch your injuries for a whole month.

Donnie

-He checks on you hourly. More than any of his brothers.

-If he catches you itching or picking at your injuries he gently calls your name to get your attention, then takes you to get patched up and gives you a good lecture that can be up to 45 minutes about how your injuries could get more severe the more you pick at them.

-He’ll make sure to put an oil or cream on your injuries that can help make your wounds less inclined to itch.

-Then he gives you a small treat when he's done treating your reopened wounds.

-It’s his way of subtly apologizing for the lecture. He’s just worried that your wounds might get infected if you keep irritating them.

Mikey

-He panics if he catches you irritating your wounds.

-He’ll dramatically and violently shake your shoulders while telling you that you could hurt yourself even more if you keep reopening your wounds.

-The he’ll do a complete 180 and five minutes later you're on the couch as Dr. Delicate Touch is sharing a powerpoint presentation on the consequences of irritating your wounds and suggests solutions on how to get you to break your bad habit. All the while you’re just sitting there wondering how he was so calm now after nearly crying about your wellbeing only a few minutes ago.

-Also how did he already have a powerpoint already prepared?

-He does try his best to help you break out of your habit, which you’re very appreciative of.

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #x reader #platonic #tmnt #my first request! :D

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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Ok, I have absolutely no idea if this is how I send requests or not (I’m new to this and technically, you’re my first person I’ve ever sent a submission to. So I apologize in advance if this isn’t where I’m supposed to ask-) anyways, I was wondering if you’re still taking requests and if you are, do you mind writing for thrawn? 🥺

I am obsessed and I can’t get this man out of my head 😵‍💫

Anyways here’s what I’m thinking-

Reader is an agent/captain (preferably female) and she works on the Chimaera and is known as the joking type. Very expressive (both in her facial expressions and in her voice) if someone says smt stupid she’s gonna make a face. Doesn’t really care about anyone’s opinion, but is very nice towards people.

She made friends with kallus and pryce. When we catch thrawns attention (being that we have a humorous personality), but are also very eager to learn from him. Whenever he starts talking about his plans or the benefits of art she’s always asking questions. (Not in a disagreement or disrespectful manner, but in a curious one)

So the admiral likes us, but then someone takes an unnecessary liking towards us (cough cough- constantin-) and no matter how blunt we make it that we aren’t interested, he just can’t seem to take the hint. Us being who we are, we don’t want anyone else to interfere in the matter cause we can handle it ourselves (aka kallus or pryce ask if we need help or if they can do something but the readers got it all under the bag and reassuring them) but one day it’s gotten kinda out of hand and thrawn sees how pushy constantin is being and he does interfere, shutting him down immediately. After that, he’s kinda more protective around us. Makes it so that are duties circulated more around his. And we start to form a bond with him.

Maybe something where kallus and pryce are teasing us about it (and maybe a confession from the reader 😳) when all of the sudden we realize that thrawn was listening in and he takes the reader aside and makes it clear that he fancies us as well?

I don’t care if you wanna end it with fluff, but is certainly wouldn’t mind if you go hardcore and make it a spicy ending 🥵 I just really want something like this and haven’t really found anything that scratches the itch! 🤣

Sorry if this is kinda long (and detailed) like I said you are my first ever submission..😅

P.s. Love your work so far, you’re doing amazing!❤️

Thank you so much dear ❤️ You did well, don't worry

I compressed the timeline a bit, but it is close enough of what you asked. I hope you like it!

Thrawn x f!reader

Tags: Konstantin being a creep, fluff, humor, p in v, creampie, alien anatomy, knot...

“So?” Arhinda asks with gleaming in the eyes “You and Thrawn? You seem quite close lately, he took you under his wing?”

“Oh no, it’s rather me who harasses him.” you laugh..

You appreciate this quiet moment with your friend, she rarely comes on the Chimaera lately. Next to her Alexsandr walks with you in silence, focused on his datapad.

“I’m constantly glued to him for him to teach me.”

Arhinda raises an eyebrow, she doesn’t seem convinced.

“Whatever you say, I just noticed he seems to ask your opinion quite a lot lately. And me who thought he was a frozen ice cube, he might have more games than I first anticipated.”

You tuts.

“No, he’s simply patient with people who want to learn.”

“Yeah, I doubt it too,” Alexsandrs raises his gaze from his pad, “he asks you to his office quite a lot. He may have an ulterior motive with you.” he teases you with a smirk.

“Well! I wouldn’t mind, he’s exactly my taste, he looks like a whole meal to me!” you joke along.

Like you got a chance with the Grand Admiral, yeah! He’s untouchable and above all that. But it is true you would not mind, you would gladly bite into that treat of a man.

They exchange a gaze.

“Oh Maker, she’s blind.” Arhinda sighs.

You wince at her.

“I’m simply a realist.”

“It’s a shame, the cold stern one and the jokester are a popular trope in movies, no?” Alexsandr ponders.

“Only in duds, Alexs! But you seem the type to be familiar with that genre.” you tease back.

“Ah! Captain (f/n)!” you hear an unpleasant, well too known voice.

Away from you you see Admiral Konstantin walk towards you with long strides and a large smile. Not him again…

“You want us to stay?” Alexs asks.

“No,” you sigh “You can go, I’ll handle it.”

“You’re sure?” Arhinda insists.

“Yes, I’m a big girl! Do not worry about me.” You say with a reassuring smile, walking away from them, closing the distance with Konstantine.

It’s been like what? 3 times you told this guy to fuck off? But he’s dunce like a rock, never taking the hint.

“Captain (f/n)! I am very happy to see you.” He exclaims, rubbing his gloved hands. “I just heard a marvelous news.”

“Oh really, Admiral? Please don’t make me wait.” you try to smile joyfully, but he gots the talent to suck up your energy.

“We’ve been announced on the same mission together, isn’t it wonderful?”

You bite your cheek

“It’s… Incredible news. Does that mean you’re gonna let me take the lead on the mission?” you ask, knowing full well a captain never leads when an admiral is present.

“Letting you lead? No.” he laughs “But that would give us plenty of time to… discuss.”

Yurk.

“Discuss about what? The weather in space?”

“You know the weather is always the same in space.”

“Yes I…” He’s he really that dunce? “I was making a bit of humour…”

“Oh!” he explodes laughing “I like you Captain (f/n)! You are funny!”

You smile, completely on edge, how this man became an admiral again? Not by being smart, that’s for sure. He passes his arm around your shoulder, pressing you against him and you tense up immediately, you’re maybe a jokester but you’re not familiar for all that.

“Please don’t do that.”

He sniffs the air, ignoring your comment.

“You smile divine, do you know that?”

Yes you know, you bought your perfume a real fortune, but if it elicits this kind of behavior you won’t hesitate to throw it across space.

“Yes I know. You don’t need to come this close to scent it.” you bite back.

Then to your utmost horror, he buries his nose in your neck to scent it.

You’re about to send him flying against the consoles when a voice raises behind your backs.

“Admiral Konstantine! What have I said about fraternization of my ships?”

You turn your head to your impromptu savior to meet a red gaze and beautiful blue skin.

Thrawn approaches with his hands behind his back and a hard gaze.

“Oh, Grand Amiral. I’m, huh…” Konstantin really looks caught off guard “I thought you were still in your office.”

“Release my captain at once.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral.” He smiles, truly not sorry to have overstepped your boundaries. He looks at Thrawn to find masculine complicity but he only finds ice, to your pleasure. “I was just… She’s cool with it, I was just trying to install a more friendly ambiance.”

Thrawn raises his brow, unconvinced. Konstantin releases you and you immediately step on the side, letting him alone in the blast zone. Thrawn takes one step towards him, towering him with all his height, forcing Konstantine to look up to him. He shoots him with his gaze.

“I do not want to hear you pathetic excuses and you should learn to treat your female counterparts with respect. I want none of that on my ships, am I clear?”

“I… Yes, sir.” Konstantine lowers his head submissively.

“Present your excuses to the Captain and return to your post immediately.”

Konstantine wince turning to you, clearly displeased to let his eye candy escapes him.

“I am sorry Captain. My behavior was inappropriate?”

“Indeed it was very much, Admiral.” You say with a big unapologetic smile.

You wave him goodbye as he walks away rapidly.

“Are you okay?” Thrawn asks lowly.

“Yes! Thank you Grand Admiral, I almost sent him flying but you intervened just in time.”

“Glad to hear it. Those behaviors are simply unacceptable, do not hesitate to come to me directly if it happens again.” He looks at you softly.

You nudge him.

“With you at my side I am sure he would not dare!”

He looks at you with a frown and you wonder if you crossed the line with him.

But he instantly relaxes.

“This is the effect I am counting on. Come to me if you meet any difficulties.”

“Sir, yes sir!” You salute him with your signature smile and he nods.

“I am counting on you to bring me the datacards tonight again.” And he walks away

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“And then?!” Arhinda asks on the edge of her seat.

“And then nothing, he walked away.” you explain, munching on your dish.

She looks disappointed, her shoulders lowered.

“She omits to say he keeps her at his side at all times now.” Alexs interjects.

“No, not really.” you temper. “He’s just protecting me from Konstantin.”

“So he keeps her at his side all the time.” He concludes.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“And you are completely blind, as always. From an exterior point of view it is evident.”

Wait.” Arindha intervenes “What do you mean he keeps her at his side now?”

“She has been upgraded to his personal secretary.”

“I am merely helping him sort some files.”

“Yes, we got droids and algorithms to do that.”

“He likes to do it manually.”

“And he needs a tier party help for that? I don’t think so.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that they spent all their evening for the last four months together alone?” Arhinda asks him

“Yes.”

“It is less saucy than that.” You explain. What if they ascribe him intentions? Thrawn has been nothing but respectful and helpful to you. “Maybe he is just preparing me for my next promotion?”

“Your promotion to his bed?”

You slap Alexs’s hands with a grimace, he’s so silly sometimes.

“I don’t remember him doing that much to prepare Faro for commandment.” Arhinda recalls

“Because he didn’t.” Alexs shakes his head.

“But what about you? How does that make you feel?” Arhinda turns back to you.

“It’s nice.” you remain succinct.

“What I love about you it’s the abundance of details.” she snarls.

You pull out your tongue to her.

“Well, it's… Great? I like being with him, he’s respectful.”

They both look at you, awaiting for the juicy details.

“There is nothing to say guys, really.” you defend yourself.

“So you didn’t try anything? You remained a pretty doll in his office, never tempting your chance?” Arhinda chokes.

Alexs sighs.

“I told you she was blind, but I didn’t know she was also impotent.”

“Oh come one guys! Place yourself in my shoes, I am intimidated, okay?” You bite into your meat. “He’s really… something else. I am always on edge in his presence. It’s hard being all alone with him in a room.”

“And you didn’t crack some jokes to ease the atmosphere as you do so well?”

“Of course I did. But that doesn’t do all. He’s hard to discern.”

“Really? Because on our end the signs are pretty clear.” Alexs comments “He’s consistently devouring you with his gaze, always commenting on how good you did on the last mission, keeping you next to him…”

You let your bite roll inside your mouth, thinking. It would be wonderful if that were true, he always was to your taste and if he asked you would jump in his arms no question asked. But that is simply a dream.

Arhinda leans forward to lower her voice.

“But in your heart? Did something change? Did it not comfort you in your sentiments? You always had a crush on him.”

“Well…” you lower your voice too, they both lean further pricking up their ears “I… I think…” You gasp for air, not believing your about to reveal your sentiment, but it will help you face them. “I think… I am truly in love with him now…”

You immediately hide your face as you flush, feeling your cheek burning hot.

You hear no response.

You look at them between your fingers, to see them cowering back on their seat, looking behind you. You turn and jump out of your skin.

Thrawn is right behind you.

“Captain (f/n), would you please meet me after your dinner?” he simply asks with his haughty voice.

“Yes, sir.” you simply respond, decomposing yourself.

He walks away without another word, navigating between all the tables of the cantina of the Chimaera.

You slowly turns back to you friends, mortified.

“You think he heard me?”

“I have no idea.” Alexs answer with pursed lips. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” you shout lowly, feeling panic rising in your blood

“Well don’t keep him waiting, you should go.” Arhinda presses you.

“What?” you choke on your own words. “I can’t face him right now!”

“Go!” she orders.

You obey with reluctance, you turn one last time to your friends that try to cheer you up with thumbs up and smiles, but your stomach is turning acidic.

For the first time in your life, you have no joke.

You knock at his office door and wait for permission to enter.

“Come.” He simply orders.

You brace yourself for what might be your biggest humiliation you have yet to face. You enter to discover him focused on his datapad, his “best Grand Admiral” mug in the other hand.

The mug was your idea three years ago, you thought it would be funny but right now it can’t even give you a smile.

“You wished to speak to me, Grand Admiral?” you say with the most assured voice you can muster.

“Indeed.” He lays down his mug and datapad, looking at you up and down with a light smile.

You remain still, waiting in complete silence as he gauges you with his amused expression.

“Is… Is there a problem, sir? Am I in trouble?” you finally ask.

“No. Absolutely not.” He says standing up.

You release your breath.

“Please sit down.” He orders, retrieving something in a closet of his desk.

You sit down, taking as little space as possible. He takes out a bottle and two glasses of the cabinet and starts pouring the alcohol.

“You hide a bottle in your office?” you open your eyes surprised. You never picked up on that during the four months you stayed with him.

“Shhhh. It is a secret.” He grins lightly, handing you a glass. “If I am not mistaken this Bourbon is one of your favorites.” He observes the amber bottle.

You take a sip to taste it.

It’s delicious

“Why do we drink today, sir?” you ask.

“To thank you for your help for the last four months.” He clinks his glass with yours, leaning against the desk and towering you from his height.

“Oh… Well you are welcome, it was natural.”

“Absolutely not, those tasks were not in your job description. You had every right to refuse.”

“I thought it was to keep Konstantine at bay?”

“It was…” he takes a sip, not leaving you with his gaze “And it served a more selfish purpose.”

“Dumping some files gestion on someone else?” you joke with a grin.

“No. Something more down to earth. Simply keeping you close to me at every given moment.”

You choke on your sip.

What did he just said?

He observes you coughing out the liquid, handing you a handkerchief to wipe your mouth.

“Sorry sir.” you press the fabric on your lips “I think I misheard.”

“On the contrary, I think you heard perfectly right. Just as I heard you ten minutes ago.”

You froze.

He heard you?

“Sir, whatever you thought you heard I meant no disrespect and-”

“Why would I take offense in a love confession?”

You wince, it was technically not a confession.

“Sir, again I am truly sorry.” You can’t push yourself to meet his gaze, you’re way too embarrassed.

It was supposed to be a secret between your heart and your friends, and now the object of your desires is aware of everything. Talk about discretion…

“You are absolutely adorable when you are embarrassed and confused like that.” he sings softly.

“Sir, please do not mock me. I am already embarrassed enough like that.” you try to defend yourself.

“Who says I am mocking you? I am serious.” he bites back.

You look up to him in surprise. You don’t see any ill intent or mockery in his gaze, but instead a clear and unwavering résolution. And something… heavy, dark and dangerous.

You gulp, your mouth dry despite your drink.

He leans forward slowly, his long fingers coming to graze your lips. It is such a simple touch, barely there, but it makes you gasp.

“How many of those visages do you have?” he murmurs “What visage do you have behind the doors of your bedroom?” he brushes your lip with his thumb “Will you allow me to see it?”

To say all words escaped you is an understatement. Your brain completely froze and you can’t move or say anything to save your life.

His thumbs part your lips lightly, entering your mouth. By instinct you gently bite down the tip of his finger and see his grin growing larger.

“Is that a yes?”

“You… You suggest we…sleep together?”

“Was I not clear enough?” He raises an eyebrow, amused

“You were not scant in details.” You say with a small voice.

“Let me be more explicit then.” He flashes you his fangs “I want you in my bed, I want to feel your pussy clench around my cock and see you struggle to take it. I want you to ride me to exhaustion, I want you to beg for me to stop because you cannot take so much…”

You just listen to him explaining his fantasies to you, mouth agape.

“Obviously, we will not do anything without your consent.” He raises back his bust to look down on you with all his height. “Is my offer acceptable to you?”

Your brain is fried, the man you dream about for years proposing to you to spend the night with him?

Oh hell yeah!

“Captain (f/n)?”

You blink and shake yourself realizing you didn’t answer him.

“Yes, sir. This is a very… tempting offer.”

He leans back to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear.

“Then join me at my suite in two hours. I will wait… patiently for you.”

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

You knock on his door with a flustered heart, feeling light with butterflies in the stomach. You took a thorough shower, combed your hair with a drop of perfume and passed on a fresh uniform.

“Enter.” you hear a welcoming voice.

The room is large, decorated with taste. A melody floats in the air with the scent of petits fours, and the distinct sound of a glass bottle. In the middle of the room is a large sofa with Thrawn slouching on it like a tired king. He stands up as he sees you approaching.

“Captain (F/n). Welcome.”

You wince at the title. You hoped you could be on a first name basis now.

“Thank you Grand Admiral.”

“Please, call me Thrawn. May I address you by your first name?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful, please take a seat.” He gestures to the sofa and you sit, pressing your legs together. He sits close next to you, brushing his leg to yours. “I took the liberty to prepare a bottle of champagne for us.”

“Alcohol again? Are you trying to get me drunk, Grand Ad-Thrawn?” you ask with a smirk.

His hand holding a glass stops mid movement.

“I am sorry, it was never my intention. Please refrain if you think it is necessary.”

“No, it's good.” You take the glass from his hand. “I need something to relax.”

“Am I that terrible?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, it’s just…” you click your tongue, thinking about your next words. “I loved you for so long, I am a bit nervous.” you confess, turning to meet his gaze.

His hand comes caressing your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair.

“(Y/n), you have nothing to worry about. I hoped for this night to happen for long on my part too.”

Your heart flutters at those words and you press your cheek against his palm.

“Really?”

“Yes. You have enchanted me with your spirit and you plagued my dreams from our first encounter. I cannot believe that you are here tonight.”

You take his hand and kiss his palm.

“I am truly here, Thrawn.”

“To my utmost joy.” He leans forward, approaching his lips but letting you the choice to close the gap.

You don’t have to be asked twice! You close your eyes and brush your lips with his before pressing them firmly. The touch is soft and inviting. His tongue comes part your lips apart to enter your mouth and hug your tongue. You let him enter without hesitation. His hand cups your head, combing through your hair, you moan in the kiss and you feel the vibrations of a chuckle.

You part reluctantly. He presses his forehead against yours, both taking back your breath.

“Before we proceed further.” He warns “I want you to know what you are engaging yourself with.” he says breathily.

You nod silently, all ears.

“I am not merely proposing to you a one night stand. I do not have time for trials and errors and stories without any futures.” He whispers. “I hope… We could build something together. A long lasting story à deux.”

You blink. He’s suggesting you become a couple?

“Are you willing to try?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Yes. Yes!”

“My love is demanding and sometimes selfish. Are you sure you want that?” He warns you.

You take his head in your two hands and kiss him feverishly.

“Yes! That is all I ever wanted. Thrawn… I am so happy!”

He caresses your cheek and kisses you back.

“I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you Thrawn. I love you so much!” You throw yourself at him, to his surprise.

You push him on the sofa and straddle him, pressing your body on his, kissing him fiercely. He combs his fingers in your head, squeezing you tight with a deep rumble coming from his chest.

“I did not know chiss could growl like that.”

He grins snarky.

“You have no idea what I can do, cha’cah.” he bites your lower lips.

He rises back and stands up, holding your hands.

“Follow me, my darling.”

You smile broadly at the surname.

“Can I give you a nickname too?”

He guides you to his bedroom, another large room with a double bed that looks real comfy and… inviting.

“Of course.”

“My love?”

“I would be honored.”

“Sweetheart?”

“As you wish, cha’cah.” He pushes you against the wall, pressing your warm bodies together

“Honey booboo?” You stick your tongues out.

“Alright, you are pushing it.” He bites and nibbles the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t that why you love me?” you gasp.

“Oh, I do love you very much. Especially with your little humor, but I am not going to allow everything.”

“Oh.” You falsely pout “You’re no fun.”

“That is your role, cha’cah.” He kisses back your lips, his tongue pushing to enter your mouth and hug yours. You let him pass, meeting his tongue with delight. His lips are soft and warm, getting swollen as the kiss gets languorous. “You are my little jokester.”

“Your favorite jester?”

“You are more than that.” He grumbles in the kiss.

You giggle and jump into his mighty arms, circling his hips with your legs. He carries you no problem and falls with you on the bed, you yelp in surprise. His body weight cuts your breath, but you hold him even tighter. You seize his face and start pecking him all over with a growl.

Muah! Muah! Muah! You sparkle a surname between each kiss, showering him with love.

“My love! My Grand Admiral! My Prince! My heart!...”

You press his cheeks to make him look like a fish and explode laughing.

“You are having fun?” he asks patiently.

“Sorry…” you cry “I couldn’t resist!” you release his face to hold your ribs laughing.

He pinches your cheek.

“Look at you. I will make you wear a buffoon costume.”

“Promise?”

He sighs, his shoulders lowering.

“You are not supposed to want it.”

“But it is such a good idea!”

“You are impossible.” He smiles, lowering himself on you and kisses you softly.

It isn’t like the earlier hasty kiss, this one is soft and slow, gentle. His lips travel on your mouth, your cheeks, your jaw, your neck… You hear him purr loudly, like a satisfied tiger.

“I love you.” He whispers again.

“I love you too…” You comb your fingers through his hair.

“I cannot get enough of you.” He peppers kisses everywhere on your face, waving his body against yours. You can feel his bulge rubbing against your core.

You try to purr in unison with him, but only manage a gurgling. He grins at your effort.

“You do not have the vocal cord for that.”

You pout.

“Not fair.”

He takes your hand and places them on his chest.

“Listen.”

You both remain still in the arms of the other, listening to him purr and feeling it through your palms, all the little vibrations and waves. His head is buried in your neck while he caresses your back, lazily kissing the crook.

“It’s amazing.” you let out, absolutely fascinated. “What else can you do?”

“Many things.” He grazes his lips against your forehead “We Chiss are capable of numerous things human males cannot.”

“Like what?” you murmur, deadly curious.

“You will see in a given time.” he purrs.

You bite your lips, you don’t wanna wait, you want to know! You start unbuttoning his jacket to gain access to his chest, hurriedly pulling on his shirt to uncover his abs and pecs. You let your hands travel and roam around his warm skin and wiggle your way under him to kiss his chest.

“Let me get rid of that.” He sighs satisfied.

He rises on his knees and starts undressing, you follow the movement and sit down, ending up at eye-level with his bulge, you press your palm on it, feeling warmth emanated from under the fabric. You knead him through his pants, playing with his hidden cock.

The bulge is massive! It makes you drool in anticipation. You can’t wait to play with it. You gesture towards it but Thrawn slaps your hand.

“Do not touch.”

“Ouch!” You protest “Why?”

“I will take care of that.”

You pout. He took a delectable candy from you.

He chuckles.

“Do not fret, cha’cah. I will give it to you.”

You snarl.

“But I want to play with it, to taste it…”

“Another time, I promise you.” He says falling down on you.

You are crushed under his weight, but it feels comforting and safe. His hands roam your body and one find its way in your pants, gently stroking your clit and trailing your slit. You mewl and wave your body under his touch. He nibbles your neck, leaving hickeys everywhere.

“Mmmmmmmmh.” He sighs “I wanted to claim you like a beast, but I will rather make love to you all night long.”

“Why did you changed your mind?”

“You being adorable. I want to take care of you.”

“I protest, sir. A good fuck is of upmost importance to take care of me.”

“Tomorrow then. Tonight I will hold you and love you gently.” He purrs.

You bury your nose in his neck, inhaling his musk and cologne. He smell so good! You lick his shoulder, the alcohol of the perfume stinging your tongue.

He enters you with one finger, teasing your entrance, curling his knuckles. You press your thighs shut, locking up his hand in its place. He locates your gummy spot and grazes it gently, circling it with the pad of his finger. You moan in his ear and bite it.

You press his body on top of yours, circling his waist with your legs and his shoulders with your arms. You comb your fingers in his hair, disheveling him. He pushes another finger into your leaking sex and scissors you thoroughly. You feel your pussy contracting around his fingers as he stretches you so deliciously.

“Thrawn….” You whimper.

“Mmh? Vocalize your bliss cha’cah. I like to know I am giving you pleasure.”

“I think I am ready for you.” you press him.

“I am the one to decide that.” He gently chides, “Let me check.”

He takes out his fingers and inspect them.

“No you are not. See my fingers? They should be dripping.”

You frown.

“I… I have never done that before.” You inform.

“You are capable of it. I trust you.” He approaches his fingers to your mouth “Give yourself a bit of help.”

You open your mouth and taste yourself on his fingers. It’s rather salty. You lick them clean, lapping them conscientiously. He purrs approvingly and takes them out. You lick you lips clean with an exaggerated satiated expression. He kisses your cheek.

“Never change, cha’cah.”

He re-enters you and fingers you aggressively, draining moans and sobs from you. You dig your nails in his shoulders to hold on. His lips travel down your nipple that he licks and glides over. He takes it in his mouth, sucking on it and gently bites into it. You can’t help but yelp in pain and excitement.

He keeps scratching your g-spot until your pussy convulses on his fingers and you suddenly squirt in his hand.

“See?” He chuckles, “You could do it.” He shows you his dripping fingers.

You nod, still a bit shocked that it happened. It was unprompted but apparently it was part of Thrawn’s plan all along. He surely is confident in his abilities to give you pleasure, you’ll give him that.

He finishes pulling down your pants and spreads your legs wide apart, placing himself between them. He opens his trouser and finally free his cock. It is blue like the rest of his skin safe for the tip that is purplish, it has ridges all along the length almost like scales but of soft flesh.

Well, soft, if it wasn’t painfully erected that is.

The girth and length are consequent, but it is okay. You like a challenge!

You lick your lips and open your pussylips with two fingers, titillating him, daring him to enter you.

He slightly grins and aligns himself with you, pushing his swollen member inside you delicately. You open your mouth round, he’s maybe larger than you first anticipated…

He kisses your lips gently once he’s fully inside your leaking sex.

Maker, he is so large! He stretches your poor pussy so, so much. You are stuffed to the brim, like you were made for him.

“Mmmmmmmmh.” He hums appreciatively “You are perfect for my cock, you are strangling it just like you should.”

“Move, please, please, please.” you demand, on the verge of explosion.

“Of course cha’cah, anything for you.”

He starts to rock his hips in a deep and languorous manners, hitting deep into you, waving his hot body against yours. You observe his cock disappearing into your sex, utterly fascinated. His ridged dick feels so good inside you, the ridges graze deliciously the wall of your puffy pussy, your swollen walls embracing his girth with ease like a fluffy pillow.

It feels so good.

He alternates between thrust and circling motions of the hips, always loving and profound, reaching the depths of your being.

He is slow and languid, delicate and loving, never stopping kissing you languorously, robbing you of your breath. He hits your cervix with ease, a creamy O at the base of his cock.

“Can I come inside?” He asks after rolling his hips against yours to oblivion.

Your pussy is spasming and contracting around him like it’s trying to keep it inside, but your slick makes it slippery.

You nod, out of breath, face hot and body sweating. You hold onto for dear life. The pace is slow but it feels like too much for you, he puts so much love in each thrust you’ve never felt adored like that before, so much you feel tears rolling on your cheeks.

He looks at you confounded.

“Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong, did I hurt you?” He immediately worries.

“No, no.” you sniff. “It’s nothing. I’m good. Continue.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and hold him tighter. “Continue, don’t stop.”

He resumes his thrusts with a quicker pace, making you bob up and down.

You feel something weird.

Something is growing inside you…

His movement became erratics and with a final push he cums deep inside you, hot ribbons of seed that your pussy milks for all its worth. You came with a gasp of his name, clenching all around his shaft and the weird mass you feel inside.

He lays on you, out of breath, kissing the side of your neck. As you try to move you realize you're stuck. You lower your gaze, wondering why you can’t move.

“Do not worry, it is perfectly normal.” He reassures you.

“But what is…”

You open your eyes round when you see the bulge of your tummy, is it…?

“You have a knot?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Indeed.” He nods “I told you Chiss could do impossible things to humans.It will ensure you have been properly bred and you will become pregnant.”

“I’m…” you’re completely out of words “I’m on pill.”

“A pity.” He brushes his nose with yours “We will have the occasion to speak about it.”

You nods, eyes fixated on the bulge.

“You do not like it.” you hear a hint of sadness in his voice “It repulses you?”

“What? No! No, no ,no no! It doesn’t repulse me.” You hold his face in your hands lovingly. “It just surprised me, that’s all. I swear it’s good.”

“It does not weird you out?” he inquires, a tad worried.

“No. I quite like it actually. It’s exotic and…”

“Alien?” He has a lopsided grin.

“Yes.” you chuckle “A bit alien can’t hurt. I like everything about you, that included.”

“I am glad.” He pecks your lips.

“Plus it might come in use at some point.” you cheerfully joke.

“I very much hope so.”

“But not now!” you temper. You are not ready to become a mother yet!

“We will have a long discussion about it” he promises.

“And how long does it stay swollen?”

“It depends, between minutes to one hour.”

You choke.

“One hour?!”

He hums, nodding.

“We can stay like that while it lasts.” He calms you down “In each other's arms. I cannot think of anything better.”

“No, you are right.”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess

☆Tag list

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull #thrawn smut

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citrus-cactus · 7 months ago

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There are NOT!!!!! enough posts on this webbed site talking about Antiope and Alesand. FRIENDSHIP OF THE MILLENNIUM, I am LIVING!!!!!!!!

Dark Ages issues 5 and 6 highlights (plus some very narrowly-focused musings and speculation) under the cut.

I did NOT expect two new characters (who are really only fleshed out in the last three issues) to be my favorite part of this miniseries, but here we are. This series scratched a very specific itch I’ve always had about Gargoyles regarding the “on-screen” relationships between female characters, and between these two kiddos and Sacrifice’s mentorship of Desdemona, we FINALLY made some headway into where I always wanted to be!

First of all, SHE GOT TO FLY FOR REAL!!! Congrats, Alesand, you did it. You’re living 10yo Citrus’s ultimate fantasy and I’m SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY FOR YOU! Out there living the 10th century dream, fr fr 💛💛💛

Antiope’s FACE!! Sorry, Brooklyn and Broadway, but you aren’t getting any credit apparently, bahahaha XD

Antiope always being the one to tell Alesand how to be careful in the cave (around a bunch of stuff Alesand doesn’t understand) and just generally looking out for her safety and well-being, with Alesand trusting and heeding her friend’s warnings without question 🥺 Plus, the way she tries to shield Alesand from the dragon’s view for just an instant longer with her wings to give Alesand as much of a head start as she can is such a fantastic detail 🥺🥺🥺

The way that both Brooklyn and Antiope remain (relatively) calm under pressure and are the ones to have the most common sense when trying to reason with Wyvern, plus them being the ones who shape the quintet’s exit strategy from the cave 🥺

“I swear I’ll let no harm come to, friend Alesand!” GIRL!!!!!!!!! 🥺💖😭💯

ANTIOPE IS QUICKEST TO SPEAK AND COVER THEIR TRACKS WHILE SPECIFICALLY LOOKING AT HER FRIEND, PLUS THAT LOOK IN THE LAST TWO PANELS, I’M!!!!!!!

The last speaking lines they have, second to last panel of the miniseries. I love Alesand’s exhuberance, it’s clearly not something that Antiope is used to. Their relationship dynamic is gold, A+ no notes.

~~~

Ok, so Watsonian speculation time! I know it’s foolish to hold out hope that the friendship between these two will last, as-is, until 994 (or beyond… hey, I can dream, can’t I?!?!!). Even if they were the same biological age at the time of the miniseries, this is just a snapshot in time for them, since they age at different rates (absolutely heartbreaking information that I’ve been keeping in the back of my brain this whole time, thanks I hate it). Even more heartbreaking is that we know what Robert will do, how disillusioned he is with the inhabitants of the castle by 994, and of the cracks and fissures in the human-human relationships and human-gargoyle alliance that began forming long before the day of the massacre. I have to think that Alesand’s death at some point before Episode 1 would be a huge catalyst, if not the primary motivation, for Robert’s betrayal of the castle, under the right circumstances. Assuming that is what happens, I would predict that the gargoyles do what they can to help/save her, which is why he really digs in to the “humans are not my kind” sentiment, but my latest hypothesis is that the sympathy(/lack thereof) he receives from either Prince Malcolm or Catherine/the Magus is such that the man he once was, the man who was so unwaveringly loyal to the crown, dies at the same time she does.

It’s even possible that the Archmage is directly/indirectly responsible for her death, and part of the reason he’s banished. Maybe Robbie wanted to execute him for his crimes, but Prince Malcolm refused? I don’t want that story to be told because I would be emotionally wrecked if true, but it also seems incredibly possible… not to mention a potential path for the villagers to arrive at the point where they call the gargoyles beasts and monsters to their faces. What better reason for open hatred, fear, and bigotry than the death of one of your own? :(

That, or Alesand and Antiope really do disappear to join the theater troupe Illuminati, and everyone just thinks they died. I would prefer that by a mile, but I won’t explicitly count on it (surprise me, Greg. Let them survive somehow, I double-dog dare you) ;)

~~~

A couple more wrap-up thoughts:

- I’m absolutely gobsmacked that Lex knows how to read already. Whom did he learn from?? I had previously assumed Demona was going to be the literacy vector for everyone in the clan who was interested in learning (since, iirc, word-of-God stated she taught Goliath) but clearly that’s not true! I still love that Alesand is going to learn from Lex, though. Did Brooklyn learn from him as well? 🤔

- I am absolutely not normal about widower Hudson. The last two-page spread stabbed me right in the heart.

- I feel like there’s a lot more to say about Verity, since her attitude was so very, very different from the stated origins of her clan, and none of the other gargoyles really even acknowledged Wyvern’s opinion of humans as they fended him off. Is “human problems become gargoyle problems” a philosophy that the clan had adopted decades before the alliance with Prince Malcolm that Verity was merely reminding Hudson of in Issue 1, or was it a belief that was primarily only held by herself, which became part of Hudson’s guiding principles as he was forced to carry on without her, and thus he made a conscious effort to make it part of the clan’s common culture only recently? What did “protecting the castle” mean to Hudson before there was an actual castle to protect? Their home along the cliffs? Wyvern’s cave? The rookery? Did he literally make up the saying “a gargoyle can no more stop protecting the castle than breathing the air” as the castle was being built? There are SO many little Wyvern-gargoyle-culture questions to chew on here. 🤔🤔🤔

- Looking back at the TV series, I find it interesting that Demona places such a significant amount of blame on Goliath’s leadership/philosophy specifically, when their clan throwing their lot in with humans was a decision made by Hudson during his leadership tenure. You’d think she’d have way, way more to say to him about that in hindsight… but maybe it’s yet another example of how incredibly short-sighted she can be.

#gargoyles #gargoyles dark ages #disney’s gargoyles #all this to say:#THANK YOU DARK AGES #I REALLY REALLY ENJOYED THESE COMICS #FIELDS WATERED CROPS THRIVING #the cactus speaks

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p3rry-pi3 · 1 year ago

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I am so sorry for the people who followed me I completely forgot abt this acc

But anyway

I made a lil’ thing.

SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TW!!!!! I mention lots of violence, lots of cussing, lots of mentions on injections, i trauma dump for a bit (I think), uh, uh, uh, yeah. That’s it. Lmk if I needa add more.

It’s complicated but I was wondering what it’d be like if my sona was a miguel variant!

He looks a lot different each drawing I make of him due to me playing around with styles so keep that in mind that consistency is nonexistent to me.

I hope this reaches the right ppl lol

I was a little nervous to show this to such a big fandom but then I remembered this is tumblr! I can do whatever, be cringe, and survive!!!

So here’s this, it’s all gonna be under the cut cause I took this as an advantage to geek out lol (a blessing and a curse)

Okay! So! His face, right.

Facial features.

This face. I did a lil’ sheet of him with and without glasses. He looks scared but bare in mind this is technically my sona and if you know me almost all of them I make are in this constant state of anxiety, and this is my way of projecting. So shhh.

In contrast to Miguel’s heightened sense due to the injects, Perry’s senses are erratic. This man’s vision gets worse TENFOLD. I’m already blind as is irl (that’s sarcasm) and the injections being unpredictable due to this dude’s like. Whatever, it makes it WORSE. Also the overstimulation is BAD with him.

As a reference to Miguel’s slicked back hair, he has his hair behind his ears. It’s a habit he does and will often fidget with his hair by constantly tucking it behind his hair and he refuses to tie it up.

Build/suit

This man is somewhat chubby but all that action will definitely muscle him out. Here’s him in the suit btw.

I think he would wear clothes overlapping the suit but because it’s like holographic and emits SO MUCH HEAT, he can’t do it during summer.

Cause imagine how hot that thing is!!!

I’ve seen the speculations that miguel could be very well naked underneath that suit, and I’ve seen how it’s like a running joke, like sure, it’s funny

BUT IMAGINE WEARING THAT THIMG EVERYWHERE WITH NO A/C!!! NO FANS!!! I imagine it being just as bad as wearing fursuit during summer (not coming from experience, but I see the struggle)

It must be super hot! I don’t know how but it LOOKS like that thing just RADIATES heat.

But no, my sona isn’t naked.

Venom

And the little fangs ref is from me being half asleep and dreaming while being awake somehow, and I guess I drew that??? Who knows.

He has natural fangs but the injections 100% make them more pronounced.

I’m not gonna overpower him and make his venom more dangerous but I’d say in addition to paralyzing his opponents, it also causes skin irritation.

Just picture it.

You’re can’t move and have to wait it off, but, your skin starts itching. It gets itchier and starts to burn BUT YOU CAN’T SCRATCH IT!!!

So you’re just laying there like “AAAAAAAA” cause then you’re worried it’ll blister, (it won’t), and you can’t check cause you can’t move!!!!!

I’m an evil genius I know 🤓

Being bit by him would be the equivalent of having to use your teeth cause no matter how many times you scratch that one part of your hands as a kid (even as now) it wouldn’t stop itching!

Character personality/arc/dev

This part was trickier. I didn’t know if I wanted to make him completely different from canon or make him similar but not too similar. It was hard.

So I focused on small traits I knew I wanted him to have.

And I think I went bonkers.

Uh yeah. I told you the art style changes quite a bit.

I think this man would love to see Miguel’s year but not long enough to figure out all the futuristic stuff. He’d be an iPad peepaw 😞

Also I’m half Samoan myself irl, so I wanted to sprinkle in that Samoan rep in this. I see little to none in most of the media I explore around, and it makes me a bit sad but if there’s like an explanation lmk.

I know there’s some Polynesian rep in the community, just not as much as I like, so here I am adding to that in pride of my own culture. (I’m still doing research on it as someone who isn’t all that connect to my heritage so it’s not good rep but bare with me, I’m getting there. As these reference pages evolve so will the rep.)

I like making a lot of these sonas so I might remake this one in particular.

I figured I’d give him a more animated character while keeping miguel’s stoicism and attitude, so here’s the characteristics I did wanna give him.

Moody. Has mood swings due to various reasons but for Miguel’s character’s sake we’ll leave it vague.

Constant state of worry and paranoia. I have been showing signs of paranoia so I’m not pulling this one out of my ass, but I do see miguel showing signs of it during high stress. It’s a headcanon I have, but I’d imagine what years of being aware of the fact there’s more people like you in a whole strand of endless possibilities, and one of them is where you’re a fictional character and being conscious of that 4th wall, it can cause you to think some stuff.

Opinionated. That’s. That’s it.

Sassy. He’s so zesty and for what lmao.

Smartass and witty. I imagine him having huge yelling matches with miguel if they were to ever meet, but in the end would get along like an old married couple. Would miguel even remotely like him? No. Not even close. This man would HATE my sona. My sona would hate him back, but as someone who’s had yelling matches with other people he’d prolly be like “damn. I can respect that.” But wouldn’t DARE to tell miguel.

Intelligent. Yeah, he would’ve been better off being an art student or a lawyer, but because of the whole canon event he had, he’s stuck as spider-man. His civilian wear is a lot more cozy in duality to him being spider-man.

Forgetful. I imagine him going to the shop and just going “shock! I forgot to change!” And he’s already almost done with his grocery list in his spider-man suit so the people there are just like, “OMG SOIDERMAN WHAT R YOU DOING HERE???”

So uh, there’s that. One last thing I’d like to add is that I may or may not have studied Miguel’s character just for his personality and to take inspo.

Doodle time!!!!!1111!!1!!11!!1!1

I made doodles here.

So.

Yeah.

I think it’s clear I don’t take him seriously lol

I also think this man would have bad nightmares since I do (fun fact! I don’t dream. It’s constant nightmares) and because of that this man would 100% sleep with a nightlight and some background noises of crowds talking bc nostalgia is the best medicine.

But it gets awkward at other people’s houses and he’s afraid to ask so he ends up staying up all night in pure terror of his nightmares. His nightmares are enhanced due to his senses. (For me, it’s imagination and having a constant active mind, but since this is my sona and I don’t have an arc for him, it’s gonna be bc of the injections.)

I think he’d be just as gay and trans as me.

Being in a big multiverse, I think he’d learn quickly that life is just too short to live while being worried of the norm and what others think.

There’s two different types of social anxiety (<- sarcasm) and he has both.

Also here’s some other doodles of his face I did

Sometimes I like drawing them completely crazy, off the deep end, scared, or just having some loves :3

My sona would be very touch starved so he isn’t used to stuff like hugs and will often become flustered! It’s cute imo but gawd damn!!! Someone cuddle this boy and tell him he’s alright

LYLA!!!!!

His lyla would prolly be named lyla too. I think she’d just be a bit of a prototype.

But perry loves her like best friend. his lyla would be the lesbian in the dynamic while perry doesn’t care what gender you are, just please don’t use his coffee mug or mess with his pile of endless papers.

I also think he’s chose her own outfits and hair styles so while sure I’ll have her in pigtails to give movie lyla’s playfulness and duality a moment recognition. But you’ll also see her in black hairstyles with actual hair texture as her avatar varies cause I made her black for 1) practice and 2) just cause. Okay? Okay. (keep in mind i’m HORRIED with fashion. So I have no idea what I’m talking abt with her character design. You’ll have to learn with me and realize that I’m pretty much clueless on how the color wheel works, so be patient plz. I take constructive criticism tho btw.)

I think his lyla would be bossier and a lot more chatty. She’d sit there and rant about whatever information asked for and because he has ADHD this lyla would involuntarily speak like she has it too, but wouldn’t really show signs of it. If she were humanized i think she’d prolly have autism more than she would ADHD but because he works under conditions he prefers, he might make her a little all over the place cause I myself rlly hate routine and familiarity is hard for me to let go of in a certain way, so I think lyla would indirectly be made to where only he knows what works and what doesn’t with the important stuff

If miguel were to ever switch lylas he’d go crazy with this one. This lyla would stare at miguel like he’s speaking some other language since my sona would probably start with some bestie banter before getting into business so if miguel were to just start barking orders at her she’d be like “Uhm. Excuse me? 🧍” she’d put him in his place as she does with my sona but at the end of the day she’s still an AI so it doesn’t get so bad to where she can’t function and can’t get work done.

She would prolly have to remind my sona the time and other stuff like that cause if the forgetful factor but considering she has social skills my sona does, she’d prolly end up talking about something else entirely but at the end of the conversation she’d always remind him.

My sona would 100% giver her a stupid nickname like “android” or for shits and giggles a more human name “Andrea” and wouldn’t tell lyla abt it, but secretly whenever he’s talking abt lyla to civilians and family he’d refer her as “Andrea” for laughs but since it’s not in lyla’s code SHE’D HAVE NO IDEA!!!

I know it’s canon that lyla is canonically a small bit sentimental and somewhat secretly crushes on miguel in the comics (correct me if I’m wrong) but I’m p sure that happens and to that I say, she wouldn’t even remotely like my sona in that way, I see these two more as siblings in this universe than I do with the originals, so these two variants are seen as siblings and often times act like so!

Universe headcanons

I think what would separate the two from each other is my sona’s world would be a lot closer to what the 90’s kids thing we’d have in modern day society much rather what 2099 would have.

Like if you were to ask a kid from 1995 or something about what they think would happen and they said “flying phones” then so be it, bam it exists now lol

That’s just an example.

So it’s like what the 60s-90s predicted, or tried to, but a lot more realistic and the economy is better by 6%. Which isn’t a lot, but by today’s standards, it might as well be.

I like to think that his universe is WAAAAAAYYYY more diverse.

A lot more necessary items would be more available.

I also think my sona would be from the capital of oregon, Salem, much rather New York just because oregon has a special place in my heart.

This man’s civilian life is boring.

Before he was spider-man, I’d imagine him as an art guy. When he had time for it and used it as a job.

He’d probably be an artist with a psychologist degree. Which, yes, far from each other, but he uses it to the best of his ability to combine the two things.

Transportation would be funky, as flying cars would technically exist, but man would it make traveling easier.

Money would work the same way since I don’t really know how to make systems that would work out for the futuristic shit 2099 would offer, at first glance it seems a lot of it costs a lot, so I’d imagine it being a struggle.

And in any case, this also means my sona’s lyla isn’t his! This man stole got it from his brother.

My sona had two brothers as a reference to my own brothers, but for purposes of staying true to Miguel’s character (which I have not been doing well at doing) he’ll have to stick to having 1 that’s consistently mentioned. Which brother? I have decided to keep that vague.

End.

In conclusion: I just needed to rant abt this character and have been anxious to post abt him since this means a number of things and because I saw a bunch of other people come up with this idea many times before, but I really wanted to make this a thing since it’s been in my head nonstop.

Admittedly I thought abt this idea before I saw everyone else’s ideas, but after seeing them all I was super scared to post my version, but after some consideration i figured I’d just take down the post no problem if it comes down to it.

I don’t really like miguel as a person (this is not miguel hate/slander in any way), but man, he’s a great character. Like, sure. He’s an asshole with too much of an ego to save himself, which I’ve noticed is a running joke in the fandom.

But after seeing the script, I’ve noticed that this man is just misunderstood. Miguel is nothing more than an antagonistic hero who has nothing better to do than do what he views as right.

What he did is unforgivable, but it makes sense.

I will forever stay by Miles’ side of the whole plot, but it made sense why miguel would go to this extent. (Not saying he’s in the right. Miguel really isn’t and his cut and dry reasoning to why he does shit ARE NOT valid reasons as it’s completely unreliable, but if I were in his shoes and trying super hard not to fuck shit up, I’d PANIC.)

His biggest flaw is getting too caught up into the past and using his trauma as a reason for everything he considers logical, just to get by and help others the way he needs that help. The way he thinks is help for everyone, or the way he thinks is best TOO help.

Using trauma bonding (which is implied) to then “help” others to “not make the same mistake”, being so fixated on it to the point you can tell he hasn’t had human contact in any normal way for a while.

This also may explain the touch starve and touch adverse headcanons going around the miguel tag.

In a way, I admired miguel in that sense. He was like me, just if he was a bit grumpier.

He acted how I used to, and his shame was just as matched as it was with trauma.

And I felt that.

So, I decided to make a sona based off him. I promise I’ll make a more original one, but for now have this miguel rip-off.

While I hate miguel, I also respect his character as a whole.

(And because of the arguments of opinion and mischaracterization, no. This isn’t canon, this is my interpretation. And no, I will not demonize him just because I hate him. I honestly think he deserves just as much good as miles does, but miles needs a lot more attention as of recent events.)

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raptorrobot · 1 month ago

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long ask anon!!! here to bother you again!!!! i swear i wanted to be patient and start working on building up a backlog of comment drafts on violent sun but then you asked for icarus headcanons and well.

- sometimes when gabriel hasn’t visited in a while and he stands in the forest of suicides, listening to the endless war going on outside, and thinks of heaven living in opulence and ignorance, he cries. for the damned, trapped in their endless suffering simply because they were built to be doomed to fail. for the foolishly innocent in heaven, who know not the horrors they have wrought. for his own denied justice.

- …and then he goes and hugs the minotaur for a while, or places some more candles, and comforts himself with the fact that at least he can do this. he may not be able to overthrow the system that has been in place for millennia, but he can show a little bit of kindness. his fire may not be able to end an ice age, but it can warm a few stragglers. and that is enough, for now.

SORRY how about some happier ones:

- maybe sometimes some of the parchment that gabriel gives him isn’t used for notes, but instead for art. it’s not quite the same, since he has to draw with a claw (real ‘finger and phone screen’ art hours /j), but it’s still nice.

- i wonder if he studies any of the already-destroyed machines? trying to understand how they fit together, how one might go about building one. in that same vein…maybe he could repair one someday? maybe even a swordsmachine (i think there are some in violence? not sure), in honor of the ones he couldn’t protect…

- he’s probably poked himself in his eye (ocular cross??) at least once trying to figure out how that thing works lol

- he knows he can’t, they’re too big and would probably step on him, but i think he’d like to hug an earthmover. if he could

i hope these are to your liking!! ^ ^ (also what do you mean projecting what me seeing myself in icarus no neverrr /j)

hiiii long ask anon !!!! this was a delightful sight to wake up to :3

first one is SO fucked up. genuinely had my hand over my my mouth. the poeticism is INSANE ???? u could write violent sun FOR me on god . but i digress - this is very canon. violent sun is inherently about icarus and gabriel's relationship so elements like this don't get focused on very much, but rest assured it is VERY real . icarus loves life and humanity so so so much and seeing its suffering so condensed as it is within violence does break him a little. the only thing keeping him sane is that solace of being able to provide just a bit of light in that darkness - he is a beacon of proof that the fire of compassion can never be snuffed out :']

nothing to comment on the parchment one, as it may very well become relevant in the next violent sun chapter >:]

oooouhhh the machine one is REALLY good.... he was a couple centuries away from being a mechanic tbh . same kinda autism vein as blacksmithing. scratches that same itch y'know . he'd certainly be very interested in the machinations of machines !!! to add a bit of icarv1el into the mix - i imagine he'd be the one patching up v1 when it needs repairs <3 and he'd probably make it ever stronger in the process too ! he would never leave a task done adequately, he loves to go above and beyond (case in point, violent sun chapter 2)

for that eye one - yes. so true . i have a stupid little sketch for a comic somewhere in my procreate where gabriel is lovingly feeling up his face and then dips a little finger into the cross out of curiosity. icarus, unsurprisingly, recoils as if his eye is being poked - because That Is His Fucking Eyedballs . hilarity ensues

and finally; icarus thinks the earthmovers are very beautiful . he knows nothing of their reputation, only their name and their make (from that one book he picked up in chapter 16), and does indeed admire them for the sheer awe that their presence invokes - a sense of childlike wonder, almost. he thinks its cool that humanity was able to make something so big :]

#icarus prime #violent sun #auuughhh this makes me so so happy this was so fun to wake up to #i love yapping !!!!!!!!

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eabwriting2023 · 1 year ago

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A Lone Moon - Day Nineteen

Saturn has its golden rings, their 146 moons to keep them company. Jupiter is the largest towering over the entire universe, chilling out with their 95 moons. We have Mars, beautiful and elegant, their blush red appearance dazzles those in the darkness, even they have two moons to keep them company on different leap years around the sun.

Then there is me, Earth, the smallest, the weakest, the dying one. I am the only one to habitat residents on my spherical body and I hate it! They itch and complain, they are fleas making me worse and worse everyday. I have become so demanding, so emotional after millions of years of letting them live upon me. It’s exhausting!

To make things worse, I have only one moon to keep me company. Whenever I have no energy or can’t be bothered with the life on me, my moon is either too much or too little. They are always in my sights, or not in my sights at all, there is no middle ground.

Planets such as Mars, Jupiter and Saturn have exquisite appearances where their moons will take care of them in a way that is pleasing to their senses. I am disgusting compared to them. The fleas have destroyed my beautiful pores, the lakes, the grass turning them into dust, cracked in all the wrong places. I have no one to truly comfort me, my moon really couldn’t care less.

They spin around in the blackness of the universe minding their own business floating around me yet they do not keep eye contact. They tried to make things work, leap year after leap year when I faced them fully with mindless chatter and stupidity but they were trying to hard to please me.

They float on the right hand side of me now as it is the middle of June. They don’t look directly at me but focus their attention upon the many stars that whisk around space.

I feel myself burning, yet it isn’t yet another forest fire caused by these fleas, it feels different some how. A human emotion very similar to jealousy. What is there for me to be jealous about? They are my only moon who quite literally revolves around me but they whisper in tongues to these stars that sparkle and it concerns me.

“It’s okay to be scared, every star feels this way, everyone becomes a burning star eventually, it’s part of our universe.” I hear them say to a shaken ball of dust. “Trust me.”

They nod they’re strange little geometrical bodies and zoom off into the distance. I watch my moon float around with their thoughts thinking they are alone.

I observe the moon hum and watch the other star commuters travel space just simply being. I cant understand how at peace they can be alone with no moons to pass away the years with. I think they sense my presence as they spin around noticing me bobbing around.

“Earth!” They say sounding surprised. “What an unexpected visit.”

“What was you just doing?” I try inquiring.

“I was just speaking to the stars mostly, some get scared about being transformed into shooting stars, it means their life is coming to an end.”

“I know the feeling.” I sigh feeling itches all over my country patches scratching from whether we are having this June.

“Hmm…” The moon nods weakly but turned to face the darkness of space. “I still can’t get over the vastness of this place.”

“Excuse me?” I strike back at them. How dare they not compliment me on my heartbeat, I am literally falling into pieces as we speak.

“Yes?” He responses calmly, their attention still focused on the space around us both.

“I just opened my heart out to you, told you my honest feelings, my worries. I am dying!” I cry.

“I understand that, but we all have our issues. We are all dying. I feel sorry for you, I do but there’s no point complaining, that isn’t going to help the humans, or anything in fact!”

“You are a bad moon!” I snap. “The other planets, their moons comfort them and sooth over their problems, they don’t pester them one year and completely blank them the next!”

“The other planets aren’t you Earth! No other planets have residents big and so many living upon them. So what if Saturn has golden rings with 146 moons to look after their every need, they are not you!”

“But what is me? What am I now? I have crumbled into dust, no one cares for me now!”

“That simply isn’t true and you know it Earth! There are plenty of humans campaigning to save your life, everyday, but secondly there is me! I maybe one moon and not ninety five but I care for you!”

“How do you care exactly? You are torturing me with your personality switches! One moment you are too attentive the next you don’t give one damn about me, you care more about your star friends over there!”

“That’s outrageous! I don’t care for these more than you it’s just they appreciate me more than you. One time in your one billion existence could you be grateful? These stars say thank you, respect me as a moon. Is it so hard just to be happy with and who you have?”

I want to respond with something clever and witty but sadly that is proving their point. I pause for a moment looking deep into my moons eyes, their beautiful patchy skin. How have I not noticed how fantastically amazing they are?

I focus my attention on the universe around me. The stars rushing around spreading joy to humans with their sparkle. I look back at my moon once again and sigh.

“I am sorry you know, I truly mean it.” I say breathing a wind sigh of relief.

Unusually, my moon is not hostile or angry but just smiles right back at me.

“Let’s do this together. We can survive if we have each other’s spheres.”

I nod firmly. For the next few while I spin on my axis we help stars that come to us make sense of their very special life and reason to be in the universe. Together, we are a little less lone than we were last year.

#creative writing #writing #nanowrimo

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ohwowimlonley · 2 years ago

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DAY EIGHTEEN

Jack Kline + oral fixation kink

[warnings - fluff, clueless!jack, oral fixation]

[word count - 697]

[kinktober list]

Jack has always had an issue with focusing. It’s never become an outright problem - one that must be solved immediately - but his mind is almost always wandering.

Another quaint foible of his is that his mouth is always moving, an unrelenting slew of completely useless information and questions tumbling from it.

You have recently learned the trick to solving these problems. The Winchester brothers haven’t learned this yet - you doubt they would humour the concept if they found it out - but it’s become your go-to for when you need him to absorb a great deal of information.

“Jack, honey,” you nudge him, ever so gently with the tips of your fingers on the curve of his shoulder, rousing him from his television-induced daze and snapping his attention to you, “can we talk about something for a minute?”

“Sure!” He always talks like this; as if a puppy were endowed with the ability to speak, you can almost see his fictional tail wagging. It never fails to make you grin like a madman, flattered by his sheer excitement of just the prospect of conversing with you.

Despite this, his attention soon drifts back to the colourful display on the tv. You almost roll your eyes, but it is your own fault (there’s no way of keeping his attention when Scooby Doo is playing).

“Jack,” you lilt, stroking your nimble fingers over his clothed shoulder as you reach over for the remote. You shut the tv off, much to Jack’s chagrin, and turn him to face you, “I need to talk to you, okay? So you need to listen to me. D’you think you can do that for me?”

To anyone else, you might sound condescending, but Jack seems to enjoy the light tone to your voice. He bobs his head along to your words, though you’re not entirely convinced he’s actually absorbing any information.

“Okay, so, I was thinking, since the boys are out for the weekend, we might want to give the place a good tidy,” you suggest, carding your fingers absentmindedly through his soft locks.

Again, his attention seems to float away with the sensation of your nails scratching at his scalp. He leans into your palm, following the pleasant itching like a cat when you catch the right spot behind its ear. You want to feel frustrated with him, but it’s just so difficult when he acts innocently, with his wide, vacant eyes boring into your own.

“Jack, honey,” you drop your sweet tone a tad, letting him know you want his full focus, “I know you find it hard to listen sometimes, but let’s try really hard, okay?”

He nods firmly. He’s determined this time; he will not get distracted.

Two minutes later, he’s back in wonderland.

“Baby,” you sigh. Jack looks back to you, then frowns.

“I’m sorry,” he insists. He wants to pay you attention. You know he does. He just… can’t, “I am sorry, I- I-”

“Shh, I know,” you soothe, pushing your hand over a thick patch of his hair and smoothing it down onto his forehead. You lean over, press a kiss over the makeshift fringe, “how about we try something to help you focus?”

“Like what?” He cocks his head, ever the curious boy.

“Well,” you stall, blinking harshly and fending off the warmth rising in your cheeks, “maybe I should just show you, is that okay?”

He doesn’t even pretend to consider your offer before nodding enthusiastically. You shuffle closer to him, your thighs overlap his. You carry on talking, but, as you do so, begin slipping your fingers up his chin and pull his lips apart, then his teeth. The pads of your fingers push down on his tongue, allowing the young man to suckle gently at the length of your finger. His eyes close contentedly, and his forehead drops to your shoulder. He nods along to most of your statements, humming garbled sounds around your fingers to indicate his approval of your suggestions.

It may not be the most conventional way, but you’ve found the perfect way to seize Jack’s full attention. And, if you like it a little too, no one has to know.

Taglist - @jexnrey @samiam0907 @jessmooneya @tiredmf @baddiewivdafattie @art3mas @bella-738 @aphrodites-flowers @alexloveskili @downbadforvecna @dcwrites1 @masterofmunsonspuppets @youreyesaretherealtruthtellers @m-rae23 @rubesred @visionsgoodgirl @loudwombatmugkid @garfieldsladybird @rubes2323 @maddy-potter @trixcate @depressedjoey @sunnysolsstuf @clover723 @anamariel2301 @01-angela @kozumewhore @britlord @zemossugarbaby @bunnyweasley23 @slashersluttt @ilovejimhopper

#•kinktober 2022•#•megs smutty daydreams•#jack kline fluff #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline x you #jack kline x reader #jack kline #jack kline smut #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x fem!reader #superwholock #supernatural smut

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jcwriting · 4 years ago

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There’s A First Time For Everything

summary ↬ namjoon has never had a blowjob before. you’re about to change that.

pairing ↬ idol!namjoon x reader

genre ↬ smut, pwp (im not kidding there is zero plot to this), fluff, (new) established relationship

word count ↬ 2.8k

warnings ↬ swearing, oral (m receiving), face fucking, choking, reader has a painful thigh kink (don’t we all), overuse of the word thigh

authors note ↬ listen,,,,i saw that picture of namjoon in shorts (you know the one) and i just,,,lost it. also, this is my first time posting fic for bts and im shitting bricks about it so pls be nice to me!!!!! i hope you enjoy this quick (thirsty) little ode to namjoon’s thighs. pls let me know what you think!

also, the gif above haunts me. everyday. okay, enjoy.

“I want to give you a blowjob.”

Namjoon choked on the swig of water he had just taken. The two of you were watching TV. Actually, Namjoon was watching TV. You were sitting on the floor at the coffee table with your laptop out to answer some work emails. But, you were distracted. Specifically by Namjoon’s shorts. More specifically, Namjoon’s thighs in said shorts. The smooth golden skin was begging for your lips and your fingers itched to scratch your nails down to his knees. Then, your eyes naturally glided further up to the apex of his thighs. Where you knew his cock was resting. Again, just begging to be in your mouth. The thought of your jaw and throat aching while he lost it above you consumed your mind. All hope was lost then.

“You…um. Sorry. You want to do that?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Uh, yeah. Wait, did you want me to ask? I’ll ask. Can I give you a blowjob? Please?”

Namjoon chuckled. “No, no. You don’t have to ask. It’s just, y’know, are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said slowly. What was he not getting? “Do you not want one?”

“No! No, oh my god. I want that. I definitely want that. That’s not the issue.”

“Then, what is?”

Namjoon blew out a breath that fluttered the hair that rested on his forehead. He cupped the back of his neck and rubbed awkwardly. “I’ve never had someone do that to me before. So-”

“What?” You would have been less shocked if he had told you that he was a closeted furry. The two of you had only been dating for about a month so the in-depth what things did your ex do in bed conversation hadn’t been fully fleshed out yet. You knew he had lost his virginity to his previous girlfriend and they had had a healthy sex life, so you had just assumed that him receiving oral was part of that. Yet…this man, this absolute Adonis of a man had never gotten his cock sucked? It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard in your life. “Hold on. You had a girlfriend before me, right? She didn’t go down on you? Ever?”

Namjoon looked like he wanted the couch to swallow him whole but you barely noticed. You were too busy experiencing the shock of your fucking life. “I did. But she - uh, no. She didn’t want to and I didn’t want to pressure her.”

Your heart melted a little before you shut your laptop. Healthy sex life your ass. You were sucking this mans dick and that was final. “I’m going to give you a blowjob, Namjoon. Right now.” You turned to him and began crawling forward. His eyes flew to your ass that swayed in the air and he audibly swallowed. “If you don’t want me to then you need to tell me within the next thirty seconds.”

“Oh God,” he whimpered and spread his legs a little wider. You were salivating. “Yes. As long as you’re sure-” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a heavy groan as your hands slid up his thighs. Finally, you smiled to yourself as you bent your fingers and allowed your nails to dig into the meat of his inner thigh.

“I have a thing for your thighs,” you murmured. “Never realized I had a thigh kink until I met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to ride your thighs. Will you let me?”

“God, yes.” Namjoon went to reach for your arms but you batted his hands away. This wasn’t about you right now. This was about him. You reached for your hair and quickly pulled it into a sloppy bun. His eyes followed your movements and you didn’t miss how the bulge in his shorts twitched.

“I need you to tell me if I do something that you don’t like, okay? I want to make you feel good. Don’t be afraid to talk to me. If you like something, let me know. If not, then definitely let me know.” Namjoon nodded feverishly. His eyes were almost black and his chest was straining against his white top. You smirked to yourself. This was going to be fun.

Bending down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his thigh. Your mouth dragged along his skin and you relished in the way he quivered beneath you. Following the seam of his leg before doing the same on the other. Nails pressed little crescent moons into his flesh before your thumbs smoothed over the marks. Your nose lifted the loose material of his shorts up to his hips and skimmed the exposed areas as your tongue reached out to flick the little freckle that found a home on his hip before you set your sights on his dick that was straining for you. Lips that had previously kissed his skin now moved to the fabric that jailed his heavy cock. Sitting back, your thumb traced the underside of his dick softly before you barely brushed over the head. The cotton dragged against your finger and Namjoon huffed loudly before lifting his hips further into your touch.

“Don’t tease.” Namjoon’s voice had lowered a few octaves and the deep tone had you clenching your thighs. His hands fisted the pillows next to him and you could feel the restraint he was exacting on himself through the trembling of his muscles.

“I’m not,” you promised. “I’m just making sure you’re ready.”

“I am. Swear to God.”

Unable to keep the smile off your face, you nodded and reached for the waistband of his shorts. He lifted his hips and helped you shove the material to his ankles. That was when you realized two things.

One, he was right. His cock laid thick and proud on his stomach and was weeping for you. He was of average length but his girth let you know that were going to struggle to fit him in your mouth. The thought only made you shiver in delight. A phantom pain panged in your gut when you took in the slight curve of the head, knowing it was going to hit everything you needed.

Second, he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. You never thought dicks were pretty. In fact, you were pretty resolute on that thought. Most likely due to the disgusting amount of unsolicited dick pics you had received in your life. But, Namjoon’s? You wanted to take a picture, frame it and admire it whenever you wanted to. The skin that stretched around his width was a shade darker than the rest of him and his cock head, a pretty red color, made you want to see how far down you could get the flush to go.

You wrapped your hand around his length and twisted up. Namjoon’s back arched off the couch and a string of curses fell off of his lips. Your thumb collected the glistening pre-cum on his tip and used it to smooth your palm over him.

“I normally don’t say this,” you said as you became infatuated with the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, “but if you want to send me a dick pic, I definitely won’t complain. Like, ever.”

“B-baby, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Namjoon moaned, throwing his head back when your thumb pressed against the delicate skin that resided under the his mushroom tip.

You giggled lightly. “So sensitive. I’ve barely even started.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t give him a chance. You licked the vein that had caught your eye earlier and followed it to the top before enveloping the head of him into the heat of your mouth. You relished the broken groan that he let out. Several kitten licks were placed on his weeping slit before taking him deeper. You worked slowly, gauging his reaction as you took him further. He responded well, panting and moaning in encouragement, head still thrown back against the couch.

“You can look at me, you know,” you reminded him as he popped out of your mouth. Kisses were mouthed over the soft skin that was wrapped around the steel of his erection. Your hand used your spit as lube to tug him harder.

“Can’t,” Namjoon gasped. “Gonna blow my load if I watch you.”

“That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Not yet,” he whined. “I don’t want this to be over.”

You pinched his hip until he met your gaze, offering him a sweet smile. “This isn’t going to be the last time I get on my knees for you, baby.” You held his wide-eyed stare as you took him back into your mouth. Ignoring how his hands seemed to flutter around you, unsure of what to touch, you focused on sliding him further into your mouth. Then, you sucked hard, using your tongue to lave at the warm skin.

Namjoon lost it above you. He released a strangled moan that caused your core to absolutely gush. One hand finally tangled into your hair and the other gripped your shoulder with warning, which you ignored. You merely sucked and pulled harder. Namjoon’s hips flexed, causing the tip of him to slam into the back of your throat. Not expecting it, you couldn’t help but cough around him as your eyes watered.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry.” Namjoon used the hand on your shoulder to yank you off. His thumbs wiped at the tears that trickled down your cheeks, the concern etched across his face made you feel warm inside. “Shit, are you okay?”

“I am, promise,” you assured him. “Just give me a second, okay?”

He nodded while pushing back some of your hair that had escaped your sloppy up-do. You gently removed his hands before looking down at his length that was still clutched in yours. As much as he had shocked you, the thought of him fucking your face was not something you shied away from. Really, it was exactly what you wanted. But you needed to prep a bit first.

When you took him back in your mouth, you focused on relaxing the muscles in your throat. Breathing deeply through your nose, you slowly worked yourself further down until your nose was pressed into the base of him. Spit trickled out of your mouth and over his balls as you pulled back. You did this a few more times, working past your gag reflex and allowing your throat to get used to the intrusion.

Namjoon was anything but quiet as you deep throated him. It was honestly the sexiest thing you had ever heard. While your past lovers hadn’t necessarily been quiet, the praises Namjoon kept raining on you and the beautiful noises he made were music to your ears. Your body certainly agreed. Your cunt ached to be filled and the fabric of your panties was soaked through. But, you ignored your needs and focused on the panting man before you.

“Okay,” you nodded as you popped him out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”

It took Namjoon’s brain a few seconds to process what you said. He shifted restlessly on the couch cushions as you ran your hands over his thighs. “Huh? W-what did you say?”

“I’m ready for you to fuck my face.”

His pupils were blown wide as he stared at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” You stared at him while purring the words that was his undoing. Namjoon’s eyes got impossibly darker as his chest expanded with a sharp intake of breath. He spread his legs wider and gently held the back of your head as he guided you down his shaft. You held eye contact with him as he cautiously raised his hips to meet your lips. Once he saw no signs of distress from you, he began thrusting more consistently as you bobbed your head to match his rhythm.

His steady movements didn’t last long but it didn’t bother you. You were more than happy to take over for him. Like you said, this wasn’t going to be the last time you worshipped his cock. The two of you had plenty of time to figure things out. Plus, knowing how much you clearly affected him gave you all the motivation you needed.

Your throat began to tense up again so you focused your attentions on his sensitive head and let your hands twist up to your mouth and back down. The sounds of your palm gliding along his slick skin and your lips sucking tightly filled the spacious living room. They were nearly drowned out by Namjoon, though.

“Baby, oh f-fuck…shit,” he keened loud and hard when your other hand moved to brush over his swollen balls. You cupped them gently and rolled them between your fingers. Even as he was practically thrashing against you, hips thrusting in an aimless rhythm, the hand he had originally placed on the back of your head remained there. He applied no pressure, allowing you to set the pace, but it also seemed to ground him. To remind him that this wasn’t a dream.

“M’gonna cum. Baby…baby, I’m gonna cum. Soon, oh God,” he babbled. You appreciated the warning but you didn’t need it. He was twitching wildly in your mouth and your tongue was coated with the salty essence of his pre-cum. In response, you ran your index finger on that sensitive spot behind his balls and that’s when Namjoon exploded.

Thick ropes of white shot down your throat, causing you to almost gag. Instead, you swallowed past the reflex and took as much as you could. By the fourth stream, a bit had managed to slip past the suction of your mouth and dribble down his cock. You were quick to clean up, licking at the mess the both of you had made before returning to his tip. You suckled the sensitive head until Namjoon practically shoved you away from him.

When you looked up you were met with a glorious sight. Namjoon was completely fucked out, twitching against the couch and his broad chest heaving for air. Sweat beaded his sharp jaw line and trickled down the column of his throat. His face was tilted towards the ceiling and his hair was haphazardly pushed off of his forehead. He looked completely ruined and entirely yours.

“Was that good?” You asked softly as you rose to your feet, ignoring the sharp ache in your knees. Namjoon made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat that you took as a resounding yes. He cracked his eyes open and looked at you with such adoration you couldn’t help but blush.

“Really?” He murmured. “Don’t get shy on me now. You can’t just suck the life out of me one second and then start blushing like a school girl immediately after.”

“It’s called duality,” you muttered as your cheeks flushed darker. Namjoon snorted and reached for you, pulling you onto his lap. His spent cock nestled between your thighs and his eyes rolled back into his head when he felt the simmering heat through the fabric of your shorts.

“I need five minutes. Then, I swear to God, I’m going to eat you out like you deserve.”

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “You don’t have to. This wasn’t a quid pro quo situation. I gave you a blowjob because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“It’s either you give me five minutes so that I can eat you out or ten minutes so I can fuck you into next week. You decide.”

His determination brought a smile to your face until you took in the purple bags under his eyes and how his eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. “How about a nap first, hm? I’ll decide after you get some sleep.”

Namjoon looked like he wanted to protest but you kissed him instead. His argument clearly wasn’t that strong because when you pulled away he was nodding in resignation. You helped him pull up his shorts and squealed when he lifted you up into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him carry you into the bedroom and wrap the both of you up in the comforter. You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, wanting to get more work done while he slept. But the faint scent of his aftershave and the soft way he caressed your spine could lull an insomniac to sleep. Who were you to refuse?

“Wake me up when you decide,” Namjoon whispered into your hair. You nodded against his chest, and within minutes the two of you slipped into a deep slumber. Happy and content.

LINKS:

masterlist

ao3

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plush-rabbit · 3 years ago

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Divinity in Impurity

Request: Okay but what if I actually request solo Simeon and him moaning through prayers and being just totally repressed and painfully turned on because his precious lovely MC makes him go doki doki? And of course a shameful messy clean up :3c I love u bestieee ✨✨💋

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Couldn’t get this out of my head, I want him to be repressed and emotionally conflicted

Simeon enters the House of Lamentation, a gift bag in hand and he’s grateful none of the brothers are home. At least for Beel since the angel is sure that the gluttonous demon would’ve sniffed out the lovely baked goods that he carries. The home is quiet, but he knows you’re here. He sent you a message, confirming that you would be here. The house is empty and it’ll just be you and him, sharing a treat from his home and chatting away. It’s so rare to get you alone and while he’s glad that the brothers are there to protect you, they are also highly possessive, not letting a soul get near you and even less likely to allow someone to be alone with you for so long. There’s a light feeling in his chest, making his lungs expand with air, making him feel as if he’d float away from the simple joy of spending time with you. His cheeks are starting to hurt from the smile he has etched onto his face.

Guilt may lap at him for not informing Luke or Solomon of his whereabouts, but for just once, he wants to be alone with you. He wants to sit and talk about anything other than school work and how everyone can’t seem to focus on the task at hand. He wants to talk with you, learn more about you until you’re all that fills his mind. Or at least, occupy it.

He’s excited, standing at your door and he knocks, a smile on his face. Patience is something that he’s born with, having the time and mind to save those that stray from the path of light, to mentor the young angels, and to grant him his title. Yet, he can’t stay patient. He’s at your door, he can hear you hum and only a piece of wood separates you for him. His patience is thinned, eagerness taking over and he turns the knob to your door. All he wants to do is see you, to be unbothered as he spends time with you and listens to you talk. He wants you, that’s all he wants. The knob is cold underneath his hand, and he steps into your room, greeting you with a wide smile.

The bag tightens in his hands, his eyes widening slightly and smile falling. You stand in front of him, slightly turned away, a shirt pressed against your tummy, your chest bare and legs naked, the only clothing you have on is your underwear, shaped to your body. Your eyes are wide, a heavy flush takes over your face and he’s expecting you to yell, an apology already at his tongue, his eyes dipping for just a moment, catching the swell of your breasts, the lovely aroma of the cream you wear, your fingers that twitch ever so slightly as you grasp the shirt in your hand.

“Simeon?” You call, and he’s quick to dart his eyes back to meet yours- back to where they belong. “I appreciate you coming over, but could you-” you gesture your head towards the door- “you know, leave for a moment?” You smile at him, the shirt in your hands now fisted tightly.

“Ah, yes, of course.” He nods his head, trying painfully to grapes at his composure that is now slipping through his fingers. “I’m terribly sorry,” he mutters, exiting the door, the door clicking behind him.

Rather than sit there and wait, he glances at the door, knowing you’re behind it, your body untethered by cloth and bare. He leaves, his steps quick and quiet, walking away without so much as a goodbye. How could he possibly stay there? How could he look you in the eyes when he was so obviously staring at your body? How could he have done something so raw and primal of him- something that isn’t him.

He hadn’t meant to walk in on you while changing but- he bites his tongue, his face hot and an aching pain in stomach. There is no “buts” or ‘ifs’ or anything of the sort. He should have known to knock before he entered your room. He’s an angel, of course he should have knocked. It doesn’t matter if you two are close, it doesn’t excuse his action for being so forward. He was just so excited to go and see you, to gift you a treat sent from the Celestial Realm. Oh- the treat. It’s still in the bag, protected by a glass casing and covered with tissue papers that glitters under the light. He had forgotten to give it to you in his rush.

There’s no going back now, not when he saw you and had the audacity to even stare at you. He’s humiliated. His face burning and any breath that he has is taken from him, squeezed out of his body and forced out. He runs to the safety of his room, glad that no one seems to be home. He slams the door, his back pressed against the wood and when he closes his eyes, he can still see you- your body bare and nipples pert, your face holding a slight flush. He can see everything behind his eyes. The lock quickly snaps into place, his steps hurried as he walks toward the small table in his room.

He places the bag down on a table as he rests on the chair provided in his room. He leans back, the cushion soft underneath him. The wood is scratched at by his covered hands, his gaze focused on the wall. Simeon mumbles under his breath, an apology said to no one, his bottom lip teased by his teeth.

How could he possibly face you tomorrow? How could he do anything after what he just witnessed and did? He removes his gloves, dragging a free hand down his face, leaving the palm to cover his mouth. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he reaches for it in the same second, half hoping and half dreading that it’ll be you.

It is.

You ask where he went. You even apologize, saying that you mustn’t have heard him.

He laughs bitterly. You apologize to him. He was the one who entered your room without permission, invaded your trust and yet, you were the one who was apologizing. He simply leaves the message on read, not knowing what to tell you. Would you believe him if he told you that he had felt sick? Probably not, but for his sake, you would have, he’s sure of it.

He sucks in a deep breath, his eyes on the wall and there’s an unfamiliar itch in his body. Or rather an itch that he shouldn’t scratch at. Looking down only confirms his suspicion. He’s erect. Could it be from you? He sighs. What a silly question. Of course it is.

It’s wrong of him to even keep the image of you ingrained in his head. “Touch me, O Lord, and fill me with your light and your hope. Amen,” Simeon whispers under his breath, trying so desperately to keep his hands away from his erection. It pains him so, his body growing hotter by the second, sweat starting to bead and eyes watering at the tempting fate of actually touching himself to you. “Please Father,” he whispers, “grant me strength. I can’t- I am but a humble servant of yours. Please take away all these sinful thoughts.”

His chest trembles, his mouth dry and tongue thick. There’s a pressure against his stomach, his hands grip at his thighs, his head bowed and no matter what, you are just in his mind. Perhaps you’re the real sin, the real test in all of God’s Grand Plan. How is he supposed to be an angel when a human of all things is the one that is turning him to sin. The one being who has managed to ruin him, to unthread his wings and have him even think of reaching out to you and be selfish.

The unzipping of his zipper is loud, echoing in his ears, drowning out the holy blood that rushes inside of him. He lets out a sigh when his cock is free, the cool air in his room making contact with the hot flesh. When his hand wraps around himself, he lets out a sob. It’s filthy, but at the same time, it’s something that makes his mouth water and want more. You are the most beautiful sin, the one that he will risk everything for, for just a chance to touch you.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers. He’s unsure of who he’s speaking to. He doesn’t know if he’s asking father for forgiveness, unknowing if his message is reaching out, unknowing if he’s hidden from his light and his view; or if he’s apologizing to you, for walking in on you and now pleasuring himself to the thought of you.

You are all that invades his mind, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the ridges underneath his fingertips pulsing with heat. You stand bare in front of him, your body soft and blemished with little scars and ridges. He tightens his grip, his teeth clenched and jaw starting to ache. He’s touched your hand before, felt how soft you are, how loving your touch can be and he can only wonder if you're still gentle in bed. If you’d play the act of the blushing virgin under him, if you’d whimper and buck your hips if he were to kiss at your neck and cup your sex under his hand. You allowed him to stare, even if it was for just a moment, you had reelected so calmly, smiling at him, acting as if he were your lover who had seen your body countless times before. You are molded under God’s light, given freedom and kissed with the gentle lips of God, birthed and given existence, your path defined only by you, and you’ve allowed him to see that. You had acted so calmly, telling him with a smile if he could excuse himself for a bit. It’s almost as if you were used to that sort of thing. He stops in his movements, his eyes wide and breaths coming out in uneven pants. You live with demons, you must be used to that. To have such devils enter unannounced and watch you strip yourselves from your clothes.

The thought fills him with fury, his lips curled and brows knitted together. Yet, his hand continues to pump at his cock. The ridges near his cockhead tingle under his thumb, his head thrown back and eyes shut tightly.

His thighs tense, the muscles in him pulled taut as his grip tightens. “Something so tainted shouldn’t be the thing to witness you,” he hisses through his teeth, brows furrowed and hips bucking. “It’s outrageous that they’re the ones you live with. Beings so full-” his voice cracks, his head dipping down- “full of sin, touching and dirtying you.” His cockhead leaks with pearly white semen, dripping off his cock in heavy, thick strands.

When he closes his eyes, he can imagine you, dressed in white, spread before him, pleading with him to be gentle- you’d be the blushing virgin, ready to take in God’s Grace and kiss lips so pure that you’ll whine against him. You’ll be under him, your fingers lost in your sex as you tell him that you’ve been waiting for this moment. His pace quickens, his eyes closed as he thinks as to how you’d feel. Your thighs plump and your walls tight around his cock, your sex pulsing under his touch. You’d kiss him and he'd return it. He lets out a cracked moan, his breath sharp and head thrown back.

Beside him, his phone rings. He gives a slight turn, his clean hand going to lift the phone. A deep frown settles on his burning face as he realizes what he’s done and to who he’s done it to. Your image fills his phone, a call from you. He clears his throat, and quickly accepts your call.

“Simeon!” You sound worried and the tugs at his heartstrings and further cements his guilt. “I was worried, you didn’t reply to me. Are you okay?”

“I-” his voice cracks, and with a deeper flush, he clears his throat. He wonders if you know what he just did. He wonders if you would figure out what he’s doing as he listens to your voice. “Ah! I’m sorry, I thought I had replied to you but it seems like I hadn’t. I- uh,” he bites on his lip, trying in vain to muffle his moan- “My mistake. I- I just, I needed to get something,” his voice strains at the last word. “I’ll be over shortly. I promise.”

“Simeon,” the way you call his name makes him tug harder at his cock, “if this is about what you saw, then it’s okay. I know you. You didn’t mean to.” You sound so sweet, trying to comfort him while he’s doing something so perverse. “Listen, if you want, we can forget that that happened and start new, okay?”

“Really?” he breathes out, already closer to his high. “I would appreciate that. I-” His nail grazes over a vein and he lets out a deep groan.

“Simeon, you okay?” You say hurriedly. “You sound hurt.”

“I just bumped into a table,” he laughs breathlessly, his phone pressed roughly into his ear. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” he mumbles. “I’ll be over shortly, my dear. Just wait a moment.”

He barely has a chance to hear you say goodbye before he ends the call. “Fuck,” he groans, snapping his mouth close and turning his head, sliding his hand up and down his cock. Clicking noises fill the room, his cock pulsing in his hand, feeling as if it were about to burst. So heavy and foreign in his hand, Simeon pushes past the thought of his own hand touching himself, and tries to imagine yours. He thinks of your voice, of how you said his name, rushed and high, calling out to him.

You’re this glowing thing, something so pure but also full of sin, so human and lovely for it. You’d be this thing he was able to touch, this person who would love him and beg for touch. Under his wing, you’d be protected, cared and loved. Tears brim his eyes, trailing down his cheeks in hot flashes, sparking and disappearing into nothing before they have the chance to wet his hand. He’s already so close, his stomach knotting together, and body beginning to shake. As he releases, his free hand covers his mouth, muffling his moans that are drenched in cries. His seed is thick, coating his hand and leaving him in burning ropes. He looks at his hand covered in semen and he wonders if you would have been so kind to lick it off of him, to treat him as if it were your finest meal. His cock twitches at the thought, dribbling out more semen onto the seat.

Simeon lays in his afterglow, taking deep, slow breaths, his palm open, his seed dripping onto the floor in syrupy strands. The tear tracks begin to dry, his eyes still watery and the image of his ceiling blurry. With a wince, he stands, and grabs at his soft cock, walking to the nightstand and pulling out tissues. It’s humiliating to cleanse himself, to dry off his semen and to wash his hands. He can’t touch you with his hand, with a hand that had sullied the image of you in his mind, that had gripped at his own cock and covered himself in seed. The semen comes off of him in rushed waves, slipping down the drain and leaving his hand wet and clean as if there was nothing there to begin with. In the mirror, he is greeted by his reflection- messy hair and flushed cheeks, tears in his eyes and puffy lips from being bitten by. He wonders if you’d recognize this dirtied version of an angel when he greeted you. He wonders if you’d still hold his hand that grasped his cock not too long ago. With another message from you, he grabs the sweet he was supposed to bring, giving a glance to the gloves that rest on the arm of the chair. With a sigh, he decides to leave them there, hoping to hold your hand and memorize the feel of it

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me simeon smut #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon imagines #obey me simeon headcanons #obey me simeon x mc #obey me simeon #i want him to cry #i want him to be a big crier #but i also want him to be super gross and indulge in his sin #like he's pent up #let him ya know #go buck wild and stuff

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