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lovelybucky1 · 3 months ago

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Little Red

warnings: dubcon, fem!reader, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, age gap, breeding, 18+ minors dni // divider by @strangergraphics

You know it isn’t safe to walk alone in the forest. The trees are dense, the paths are windy, and dangerous animals lurk in the underbrush, stalking their prey. You convince yourself that you’ll be fine; you’re only taking a short walk to your grandmother’s house with a basket of treats. Technically you’ve never made the trek by yourself before, but it can’t be that hard, can it?

You were overly confident when you walked into the woods, but you were quickly humbled when you got turned around. You came to an intersection of paths and you couldn’t remember which to take, so you took your best guess. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one. As luck would have it, it started to rain during your walk, leaving your cloak, dress, and shoes soaked. You’re cold, uncomfortable, and lost.

After a mile or so more of walking in your wet socks, you stumble across a house. It isn’t your grandmother’s cottage with the lush garden in the front, but a log cabin with an overgrown lawn. You figure that someone inside must be able to give you directions, so you walk up to the door and knock.

At first, there’s no answer, so you try again. You can hear some shuffling from inside and you nervously squeeze some water out of your cloak as you wait for the person to greet you. When the door opens, a large man appears, blocking your view inside the house.

“What do you want?” the man asks with a gruff, slightly irritated voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I got lost on the way to my grandmother’s house. Could you point me in the right direction?” you ask. You feel intimidated by the man’s intense eyes, but you hope your nerves don’t come across in your voice.

The man opens the door wider and steps out, allowing you a better look at him. He is in a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face is scruffy like he hasn’t shaved in a week. His hair is a little wild, along with the look in his eyes. He’s undeniably handsome, in a rugged, lumberjack kind of way. You can tell even from under his shirt that he has muscles, and you have to stop your mind from picturing them.

The man raises a thick eyebrow at you as he takes in your appearance. You’re too distracted to notice the way he licks his lips.

“A little girl like you shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he says.

“I know, sir, but I thought I knew where I was going,” you say, feeling embarrassed to explain your lack of direction to a stranger.

He sighs through his nose and opens the door wide enough for you to squeeze past. “Get out of the rain ‘fore you catch a cold.”

Accepting the kind invite, you walk inside the cabin. It’s cozy inside, with not much more than a bed in the corner, a wood stove, and a dining table. Books, candles, and bottles were strewn around, making the place look well-lived.

The man pulls out a chair at the table for you and you sit down. Wordlessly, he pulls your cloak over your head and drapes it near the woodstove to dry. The cabin is thankfully warm, and your frozen hands start to thaw. You quietly thank him, then introduce yourself. In return, he tells you his name is Logan, but he doesn’t offer any more information than that.

“You want some tea to warm you up?” he asks, and that rough voice is music to your ears.

“That would be great.”

He pours you a cup of hot tea from the kettle on the woodstove and you accept it gratefully. The tea is a bit too hot and burns your tongue, but the warmth inside your belly is still welcome. He watches you intently as you drink it, but you pretend you don’t notice.

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.” He doesn’t smile, but he gives you a soft kind of look. “It’s nice in here,” you say, looking around at the cabin’s interior.

“Don’t get many visitors,” he says.

“I doubt you get lost girls on your doorstep very often,” you joke.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he says, finally cracking a smile. “Been a long time since I’ve had something as sweet as you.”

The comment strikes you as odd, but before you can think too much about it, he sits down next to you. You get a closer look at his scruffy facial hair, his slightly wild eyes, and his teeth. When he opens his mouth to place his cigar inside, you catch a glimpse of his sharp canine teeth. They’re a lot sharper than your own, sharper than any you’ve ever seen on a person before. They intrigue you, and you want to get a closer look but your view is blocked by the end of his cigar being put into his mouth.

He must catch you staring at his mouth, because he gives you a small smirk around the cigar as he lights it.

“I really should get going,” you say, putting your empty mug down on the table.

“You only just got here,” he says. He places his hand on your wrist, gently pinning it to the table. “You’re still cold.”

You shiver at the feeling of his large, warm hand on your still-clammy skin but you try to brush it off. “My grandmother’s expecting me. I don’t want her to think anything bad happened to me.”

Through a puff of smoke, Logan says, “but something bad did happen to you.” You furrow your brows in confusion. “You got lost in the woods and wandered into a stranger’s house for safety.”

His grip on your wrist tightens and fear starts to build in your stomach. He grins at you, but it’s not a kind look. It’s sharp and predatory, like he’s about to eat you whole.

“Please let go,” you whisper.

“You’re mine now, dollface. I’m not lettin’ you get away.” You try to tug your arm back, but he’s too strong. “Even if you did run, you don’t know where you’re going. There’s monsters a lot worse than me out there, y’know.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your mind races to figure out how to get out of this situation. You’re in the middle of nowhere, well and truly lost, and the only person around is the man currently bruising your arm.

“Monsters that would rip a pretty thing like you to pieces. Not me, though. I know how to appreciate a delicate little flower.”

Logan stands up and tugs you to your feet. He moves his hands to your waist and holds you in front of him. You don’t bother trying to move because you know your efforts will be futile and likely will anger him. He looks down at you hungrily, and this time, you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth.

“Your teeth are so sharp,” you whisper.

Logan grins. “You like ‘em, sweetheart?” As afraid as you are, you do like them. “You wanna feel ‘em?”

Hesitantly and with a trembling hand, you reach up and touch the point of his tooth with the pad of your finger. The tooth is blunt enough not to pierce your skin, but you’re certain that if he bit down, he’d have no trouble drawing blood.

“You’re shaking,” he points out, as if you weren’t well aware of that fact.

Logan grasps your wrist and brings your hand back down to your side, pinning it there. He holds eye contact with you for a moment before leaning in close to you. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your skin.

His lips touch before his teeth, but the feeling is unmistakable. It’s a hot, painful pinch but he’s obviously restraining himself because you don’t feel a trickle of blood running down your neck.

You gasp and try to move away from him, but his hold on you is too strong. He chuckles against your skin and you can feel the smile on his lips.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs.

Logan’s hands wander from your waist to underneath your skirt. He pushes it up around your middle and he leans back so he can catch a glimpse of your panties. He growls low in his throat when he sees the scrap of pink cotton between your thighs.

He’s not even holding you anymore, but you’re frozen in place. You know you should be afraid. You are afraid of the man who's been threatening to eat you, but your body doesn’t seem to be on the same page as your mind. Fear and a strange sense of arousal mix in your stomach, and the feeling is only strengthened by the hungry look in Logan’s eyes. He sniffs the air, and a smirk forms on his lips.

His fingers toy at the elastic band of your panties before they slip beneath them. Your pussy is traitorously wet and Logan is delighted to learn this.

“You got a needy cunt, huh, doll?” he asks. You shake your head, but there’s really no use denying it. “Seems to me like you do.”

He pushes the fabric of your panties entirely to the side, exposing you to the air. He strokes over your lips with his fingers, and he slowly pushes his middle finger in. You take a shaky inhale at the feeling, and you pray your knees don’t give out.

“She takes me so easy. This isn’t why you came here, is it? Put on this whole act just to get this pussy played with?”

“No!” you whine. “My grandmother really is waiting for me.”

“Forget about her. Just you ‘nd me now.”

He pulls his finger out of you and wipes your wetness on the side of your thigh. He then bends down to lift you off the ground. He’s so strong and you’re powerless to do anything to stop him from carrying you over to the mattress in the corner of the cabin.

He lays you down and covers your body with his own before you can attempt to crawl away. He grabs your ankles and bends your legs so your pussy is presented to him. His finger returns inside of you, thrusting and stroking your inner walls.

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your moans, not wanting him to hear how much you’re enjoying this. You don’t want to be enjoying this, but he knows all the right places to touch you.

He works a second, then third finger inside you. Your arousal makes the slide easy, but this is the widest you’ve ever been stretched before. If he thinks you need three of his thick fingers to be open enough for his cock, you’re nervous for what’s to come.

“This ain’t your first time, is it, kid?” he asks fondly as he brushes his thumb on your clit, just enough to tease.

You’re afraid to answer his question. If you lie and say it isn’t, then he might go rougher on you. If you tell him you’re a virgin, however, it might awaken a different kind of beast.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, bet no one’s been in here before. That right, baby? You can tell me.”. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, your belly burning with shame and desperation. “Fuck,” he growls. “‘Course you fuckin’ are.”

He removes his fingers from your cunt and works open his fly, not caring that your wetness is getting on the denim of his jeans. He pushes them down far enough to free his cock from his boxers. Your fears have come true, and he is fucking huge.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow,” he says as he grasps his dick and strokes it. “You’ve been so good for me.”

He positions himself at your entrance and hits his cock on your clit a few times. You jolt at the contact, but the stretch of it inside of you is more shocking. Luckily, he stops once the tip of it is inside, allowing you to prepare yourself for the rest of the length.

“How’s it feel, dollface?” he asks.

“Good,” you squeak out. It does feel good, but it’s not enough. You’ve felt empty since he pulled his fingers out of you and you need to be full again.

“Can you take the rest or do I need to fuck you like this?” he says, pulling the tip out just to push it back in. You let out an involuntary moan which encourages him to do it again. He gives you shallow little thrusts which don’t do much for him, but have you whining pathetically. “All this just for the tip? The whole thing’s gonna blow your fuckin’ mind.”

“Please give it to me,” you say hurriedly, before the humiliation can catch up with you.

“Yeah?” he asks, cocky. “You were so scared before, but now you’re beggin’ for it?”

He slowly pushes in further, feeding your hungry pussy the rest of his cock. His tip hits your cervix before he bottoms out, and you whimper at the contact.

“Little puss can’t take all of me. Fuckin’ adorable,” he says as if he’s talking to himself.

He begins to fuck you, making sure not to go too deep and hurt you. If your mind wasn’t so clouded with pleasure, you’d find it odd that this monster is making an effort to be careful with you. You expect him to push in without any prep or worry for your comfort.

“Squeezin’ the fucking life outta me,” he growls. His hands grip your hips possessively and he uses them to control his thrusts. “Virgin cunt’s always been my favorite.”

You wonder how many times he’s done this; taken a lost girl’s virginity just because she wandered up to his door. You wonder what kind of state he’s going to leave you in, if you’ll be able to walk away or if you’ll have to stay in his bed while you recover.

“Fuck,” you curse, accidentally letting it slip when he bumps you cervix.

“That’s a dirty word, sweetheart. Am I making you feel that good?”

He’s making your fucking head spin, that’s how good he is. You don’t have more than your fingers to compare him to, but having someone else bully their way into you is so much better than your own fingers that can’t reach deep enough.

“Yes, fuck, Logan.”

“Keep fuckin’ begging for me, angel. I’ll give it to you good.”

He moves his hand onto the mattress next to your head and he braces himself on it. The new position gives him leverage to fuck into you, rutting quick and hard. The slap of skin against skin sounds like thunder in your head, and the flash of his white teeth is the lightning.

His cock is reshaping your pussy, making room for him to sit comfortably inside of you. He is claiming you in every sense of the word, and you’re happy to surrender yourself to him as long as he keeps making you feel this way.

“You were fucking made for me. My little girl, feelin’ so fucking good around me,” he mutters.

Logan’s pace gets progressively quicker and rougher, and he’s getting more animalistic. He’s growling and panting above you, and that wild look in his eyes is back. Like this, he looks exactly like the monsters from the stories you were told as a kid. Feral, aggressive, preying on innocent girls, taking virgins from their families. You’re not scared anymore, though. You’re being throughly fucked by the big bad wolf, and you’re feeling the best you’ve ever felt in your life.

Logan moves so his elbows are bracketing your head and his chest is flush against yours. He fucks you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. You manage to slip your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, and it only takes a few touches to have you cumming around him. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and he curses under his breath at the feeling.

“Good girl, keep cumming for me,” he praises. “Knew you were gonna be the perfect mate.”

His words don’t register in your hazy mind until it’s too late. He’s grunting, growling out your name as he shoots his seed as deep inside of you as it’ll go. Your over-sensitive, aching pussy twitches at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you.

He rides out the waves of pleasure, but he doesn’t pull out of you even when he’s finished. He’s still on top of you, pinning you down but having enough mind not to crush you under his weight. His cum is plugged inside you, prevented from spilling out.

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, there is silence. The rain outside has stopped, and the only sound from inside is the mix of your breathing, both quickened from exertion.

You’re not sure how long it is until Logan sits up and pulls out of you, but it feels like ages. You’re boneless and tired, having had every bit of energy and pleasure drained from your body.

“You did so good for me, doll,” he smiles down at you. He moves to lay next to you on the bed, turning your body so he can slot himself behind you. He pulls you flush to his chest and you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

“So good,” you attempt to say, but it comes out a slurred mess.

He chuckles softly at that. “Get some sleep. You’re gonna need your energy.”

You don’t know what he means by that, but you decide you don’t care right now. You fall asleep listening to the loud, steady beat of his heart.

And what a stupid little lamb you are, turning your back on the wolf who’s wanted to eat you since he first laid eyes on you.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfic #deadpool & wolverine #x men #x men fanfiction #x men smut

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oldmenthusiast · 1 month ago

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18+ content mdni

bookshop owner!joel miller x fem plus size reader

warnings: smut, age gap, tension, reader is in her 20s and joel in his 50s, semi public sex, reader wears glasses, not proofread

it takes many job interviews for joel to hire someone until he finds you. you're not the first young thing to apply for the job, not the most qualified either but joel likes how modest you are.

he also likes the way you avoid his gaze if he stares too long, or how you keep pushing your glasses every time they slide down your nose.

those aren't the only things he notices about you because he's become very observant due to his age; it definitely doesn't have to do with some strange infatuation over you, no.

when your hands firmly pull your sundress down if it's too windy, when you smack your own forehead if you mix up the order of the books before switching them again. joel notices that too but it doesn't necessarily mean anything.

“I’ve taken care of the online orders, mister miller.” you inform him as sweet as ever and joel’s crooked smile appears on instinct.

“thank you, sweetheart. you know how people my age are with those machines.”

you're kind enough to shake your head at his response.

“I think you're doing great,sir.” you tell him and it warms his cold heart to the core.

“go home, sugar. I'll close up soon.” he mutters with the same half smile and watches you go but not without wishing him a good day.

during peak season, the bookshop gets naturally busy but to the point where joel and you have to stay overtime.

he doesn't ask it of you but you insist.

“I can't let you do all that by yourself.” you mutter with a faint pout that he wants to kiss away.

“can’t pay you for overtime,sugar—”

“just let me do this for you,sir.” you cut him off and joel doesn't argue further.

that's how his following nights go. you sit together in the back of the store, tons of books and papers surrounding you as you work. you assist him with every single thing he needs and even if you lack knowledge in some parts, you learn it for him.

peak season ends, the bookshop is quiet and your shift ends but you somehow still sit at the back of the store instead of going home. joel sits across you while holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

“a girl your age should go out with friends and have fun, not rot in here with me.” joel tells you with a hint of amusement in his tone.

even if he's right, you do not agree.

“I like it here, it's peaceful..” you explain and as usual your gaze doesn't linger on his. you look away when joel doesn't and it makes the man smile.

“I like it too.” he mutters after a while and tips his head back to down the rest of his beer.

there's hidden intent behind his reply, or maybe just the feeling of wanting to say something more, but joel keeps quiet. whether you notice it or no, you don't say.

joel doesn't pride himself to be the best boss but at least he's a good enough one. that's what he tells himself when your most recent ex partner marches in his bookshop to cause a scene but joel sends him back with a bruised eye and some vulgar words.

it's probably the first time someone has stood up for you like that but it's more special because it comes from joel.

whether it's out of gratitude or suppressed emotions, joel thanks whatever high power has led him to the back of the store again with his body slumped on his chair and you straddling his lap.

“mister miller.” you moan as you sink down his cock, taking him inch by inch until you're fuller than ever.

his calloused hands wrap around your plush thighs and fondle the skin greedily, loving how it spills between his fingers. whatever you're not proud of, joel touches it like it's a treasure.

“I’m a man, not a boy.” he growls when you hesitate to move on him, afraid of crushing him beneath your weight. “fuck yourself on my cock, baby. come on.” one of his hands slaps your ass possessively and his words alone are good enough to give you the confidence that you lack.

once you start moving, it's over for him.

his thighs flex beneath your weight and his cock twitches within you as you ride him, taking him in so perfect.

“so good. my sweet girl. my favourite girl.” he whispers against your cheek and you melt while swaying your hips faster.

his hands clutch harder at your thighs as you bounce on his cock, buzzing with heat and need for more.

the sound of skin slapping, as well as the wet noises that emit with each slide of joel’s hardened cock inside your folds makes everything better. “so wet. you're coating my cock with it, sugar.” he says through gritted teeth as his fingers dig harder into the skin of your ass.

he slaps it once, then twice.

“mister miller!” you cry out when a particularly hard thrust is delivered straight into your sweet spot.

joel buries his face into your neck and grunts as your walls tighten around his cock, claiming his every inch. “so sensitive. bet your boyfriend didn't know how to fuck like this.” and he's probably right by the way your pussy drools and squeezes around him, sucking him in for more.

his lips find your neck and he marks it unapologetically, biting and sucking on whatever skin his mouth can reach.

when he pulls away and presses his back against the creaking chair he's graced by a sight better than any other.

joel watches you ride him, stares as your tits bounce before his face and your crooked glasses struggle to exist because of the force of his thrusts below you.

he definitely can't last long after that and he uses his strength to shove you on the table and tower over you. only then does he realize the pathetic state of your sundress, butchered up around your waist like it's a belt. he slides his cock inside you again and you whimper softly.

“knew you were made for me ever since you walked through that door.” joel growls while fondling your breasts with both hands, his mouth merely occupied with the tender skin on them.

your hands reach for him, gripping the back of his shirt as he fucks you. you're not used to being given things, only to give them yourself. and this much pleasure is overwhelming but it's good because it's joel giving it.

a particular shift of his hips helps him to slide deeper and the sensation causes you both to moan in unison.

“I won’t last, sweet girl.” he croaks between the space of your breasts while sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

you can say the same as the stimulation brings you closer to the edge and your eyes can barely stay open at some point.

his hips follow a fast and intrusive pace, and every time joel’s hips collide against the back of your thighs it makes your skin jiggle. you feel embarrassed but not for long as joel drags his lips against yours.

“the prettiest girl. there's nothing better than you, sweetheart.” joel whispers and you kiss him before he does.

your mouths melt so perfectly, your noses brushing intimately, and if joel could bring you any closer he would.

“there.” you beg against his lips when the tip of his cock hits that perfect spot within you.

“here?” he asks teasingly and makes his thrusts purposely rougher. your legs shake around him and he does it again. and again. and again.

the bookshop is filled with your cries and begging. “i’m coming— I can't—” you mumble incoherently but joel gets it as he speeds it up.

you watch his hand disappear between your bodies and you don't question it until you feel that excellent brush of fingers against your clit, accompanied by his savage thrusts into your weeping pussy.

“joel.” his informal name falls off your lips so well and he has to remind himself to breath when you say it as you come around his cock with a cry.

it takes everything in him to not spill everything within you right there.

“where? where, baby?” he asks as he grounds his hips and hopes you'll get it.

“I'm on the pill.” you so graciously tell him while squeezing your thighs around his waist and joel nearly says thank you because of what a desperate bastard he is.

it only takes a few more thrusts for him to let go and come inside you, his hands abandoning your breasts to pull you down by your hips.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every drop pour into you and fill you up. it briefly shocks you that he's still coming — he's still filling you up with his seed and groaning against you.

“there’s so much.” you mutter breathlessly as he nuzzles his face against yours. joel simply hums and uses one of his hands to caress the bare side of your hip, keeping you relaxed.

“we’re not opening tomorrow.” he tells you in his usual tone of authority.

“it’s thursday.” you tell him.

“good day to go out and eat,yeah?” joel pulls back enough to look at you and he stares at you knowingly. his words bring a smile to your lips, one that he wants to treasure forever.

you nod then, giving him your acceptance.

“yeah. it is a good day to eat out.” his hand moves from your hip to fix your crooked glasses with a fond expression. the glint in his eyes speaks louder than any sentence.

“maybe you should keep your calendar empty for this month. or year.” his words amuse you but you're aware that it's far from a joke — he isn't asking. your eyes regard him as gently as always and you smile that way just for him. “yes mister miller.”

he was glad to have hired you.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x plus size reader #joel miller x plus size reader #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal x y/n

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unluckilyimnot · 9 months ago

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fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair

Characters : isagi, reo, karasu, yukimiya, hiori, sae, rin, kunigami, nagi

Fluff

m.list || rules

Note: Charles being friends with shidou is really no surprise 😭 they're both menaces

isagi

is a smiley little pookie

never do your hair ‘cause he’s gonna ruin it and he doesn’t even intend to and he's SO sorry when he does

he wants to touch your hair all the time, brushing it away, make sure you don’t get it or eat it

he’s so oblivious about the fact that he KEEPS touching your hair

it’s always some “wait I’ll help you out” when you want to tie it (if you can), or “wait” and he brushed it away from your eyes

All. The. Damn. Time.

If your hair is long/shoulder length, he wants to brush it for you on windy day so you’re all pretty again

karasu

I see him as a gentleman who tease a little

so I think he tends to play with it a lot, twirling it around his fingers and then say it was to fix the strand

even more if you have curly hair or curl it yourself, it was losing its bounce a little, he helped :)

he doesn’t do it much outside, but when it’s just the two of you he likes it

ruffling it, putting a falling strand behind your ear/out of your view

he just loves the softness

nagi

it’s easy, he’s taller than you so it’s his favorite part and he doesn’t even try to find any excuses

he just touch it, even pet your head as if your a damn cat

he loves it if you have long hair, he can play with the end easily when he’s out of energy for the day

he can lay his head on top of yours and that’s generally, if needed, his excuse to touch your hair – inside, all alone or outside with people

he’s the type to brush your hair away of your face if it bothers him and he can’t see your eyes

kunigami

his best excuse is that he knows how to style hair thanks to his sisters so he can help effectively

he does your hair for you, I don’t make the rules

that’s his favorite part of getting ready, doesn’t matter where you’re going or if you stay at home

he LOVES breaking the curl when he just done it to make them look loose – plus you look amazing

tie your hair for you just to feel it between his fingers

and always has a hair tie to do so

he’s the best, he can do anything and if not : he’ll learn to

everything to see you smile

sae

he’s too serious for his own good when he’s in public, you like to mess with him

he freshly cut his hair and you can’t help but want to run your hands through it all day, it’s all soft and nice and he smells as good as always and –

he had to glare at you for you to stop your move, rolling your eyes, you left to get a drink

a hand find it’s way on your smaller back again and you roll your eyes

“Stop that would you”

“Cut your hair after next time” it’s his time to roll his eyes

“You’re impossible” and you returned him the compliment, this time ruffling his hair for good before fixing it and smiling

“I love you though” he narrows his eyes at you, taking a look around him before leaving a peck on your cheek

“Me too”

rin

you like to fix his bangs to bother him

putting it a little on the side to get a better sight of his eyes even if he hated it

or ruffling it until he can’t see anymore

annoying Rin is your favorite job on earth

this end up in a fight half of the time – and he always win, be for real

but deep down, he loves it a lot

this boy is touch starved, so you playing and touching his hair a lot make him feel better and loved

reo

he’s a tidy man, he knows what he’s doing and big gathering, brands and companies or not ; he just has to be perfect

and he’s glad to have someone around him ready to fix his look if needed

but you two haven’t left yet that you already fixed his hair a few time

“You can’t act like that tonight you know that ?” he chuckled as you, very cautiously, fix it once again

“I will if needed.”

“Was it needed all the time for the past half and hour ?” he asked in a smirk, tilting his head to the side

you blush at his comment and pout. “Maybe not…”

he doesn’t mind tho, you’re sweet and you love him sm you can’t help it

he feels the same, don’t you worry

hiori

casual date but he’s always making sure he looks cute for his pretty s/o

you two leave when the time is still clear and warm yet knowing that’s a windy day

by the time you arrive at your destination, a cute cat café that opens recently, your hair is a mess and you can’t help but whine

he’s quick to help you out, brushing his fingers through it to ease it before his own hair – not that it moved much

yet you brushed your fingers through his as well, giggling when you’re done and him thanking you, not knowing it wasn’t needed at all

his hair is so soft, you can’t help but push it away gently or hold it before a strand falls in his mouth while he’s eating.

“What’s up today ?”

“Nothing, I just don’t want you to eat your hair !”

yuki

you attend an official thing, like regarding commercials he worked in with some brand

he’s : on fleek, hair perfectly done, makeup on top, he looks handsome and that’s your man ? Damn

you have to be serious the whole, contain yourself, smile a lot but you really can’t help yourself, from time to time, to make sure that his outfit and hairstyle stay perfect

that’s your job right ?

It’s like the ninth time your hand keeps a stand of hair out of his sight, or to make sure it stays put together, it makes him giggle.

“Done ?” he asked in a whisper in your ear, his smile so easy to imagine on his face.

“What ? It’s in your face. I’m helping out.”

“You’re not. You’re clingy,” he pecked your temple. “but it’s fine.”

yes, he knows you just can’t keep your hand for yourself but he still finds it cute and endearing

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sleepy-steve · 4 months ago

Text

@steddieangstyaugust 04/08 // angst with a happy ending

wc: 2.3k // rating: G // cw: language // tags: post-s4, eddie lives, eddie in WITSEC, mutual pining, phone calls

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“So, where are you now?”

Steve knew he wasn’t going to get a real answer to this question—given that Eddie wasn’t allowed to say—but it was basically tradition at this point to ask.

Eddie chuckled through the receiver. “Hmm… it’s windy. And cold as balls. Will probably start snowing soon.”

Steve raised his brows. “Snow? This early?”

Dustin, from Steve’s kitchen island, mirrored his look of interested surprise, and immediately started looking over the map laid out on the countertop. It was dotted with little red and yellow stickers and various scribblings.

“Yep,” Eddie responded, popping the P. “Pretty shit going out for a smoke, but lots of trees around, so the view is decent at least.”

“Lots of trees,” Steve repeats, with a pointed glance at Dustin, who hurriedly starts marking different spots on the map.

“How’s Henderson’s map going?” Eddie asked, knowing by the tone what they were doing.

“It’s… going?” Steve responded with a shrug. “He thinks he’s worked out the movement system.”

“I have worked out the movement system, thank you very much,” Dustin snarked, not looking up at Steve. “We can track their movement from the West Coast back up North, hence the snow.”

Eddie laughs again. “Kid’s too smart for his own good.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve grumbles, moving away from the kitchen, as far as the cord allowed him to. He drops his voice low. “How you holding up?”

“I dunno,” Eddie sighs. “Same shit, different place… Same shitty government officials with the same shitty requirements.”

Steve wants to say so much, to reassure and comfort him, but holds back. Keeps it in. “How’s Wayne doing?”

“He’s alright, doesn’t love the cold…” Steve can picture Eddie looking over at where Wayne is probably sitting nearby. “Hopefully they’ll move us somewhere warmer next.”

“D’you know when that’ll be?” A small pit of anxiety swirls in Steve’s gut. As it did any time they spoke of Eddie needing to move.

“Nah, last time was six months, but time before was only three. Hopefully this is just another quick one.” Steve can hear Eddie chewing on his lip, can picture him playing with his hair.

“Steve!” Dustin calls from behind the wall. “Ask Eddie what kind of trees are around him!”

Steve snorts. “Did you get that one?”

“Tell him I have no idea,” Eddie deadpans.

Lowering the receiver, Steve calls over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know, buddy.”

“What kind of trees…” Eddie grumbles, only slightly mocking. “I guess I can’t blame him for trying.”

“It’s how he deals.” Steve keeps his voice low. “He misses you. I miss you.” His brain scolds him—too much—and he quickly adds, “We all do.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, and Steve’s almost sure he hears him hit his head on the wall. “I miss you too. All of you.”

It was a thing that happened often, for how infrequently Eddie was able to call. A kind of vulnerability that Steve supposed came from the fact that they couldn’t see each other, and wouldn’t for a long time yet. They’d skirt around it, but it was there, pulled taut between them, ready to break with one wrong move.

“How much longer?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t already know, like he hasn’t been counting down the days since Eddie got taken away.

Eddie exhales heavily, the sound muffling through the receiver. “Bit under three years.” Steve can hear the sad smile in his voice.

“Right.” Steve leans back against the wall, head tilted back as longing shoots through his gut. They were almost at the halfway point. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just… couldn’t. Steve would wait.

Steve’s kicking snow off his boots at his front door when he hears the phone ring from inside. He bolts in, slipping on the floor slightly in his haste.

“Hello?” he answers breathlessly.

“Hey.”

A wave of relief washes over him. “Eddie,” he breathes.

“You okay? Did I wake you up?” His tone immediately switches to one of concern.

“No, no, I just got back from the Henderson’s,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, willing his heart to calm down now that he’s answered the call. “We wanted to call you, but… y’know.”

“Yeah…” Eddie sighs. “I wish you could.”

The silence settles, and they just listen to each other breathe for several long moments. Steve knows that Eddie is holding back, the same way he is. Saying things that are only close to what they mean. Their quiet filled with unanswered questions and things they wish they could say. Finally, Eddie breaks it.

“Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah, just me tonight,” Steve says, shrugging his jacket off. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. Steve didn’t really think it was that funny. Their constant need to skirt around the thing developing between them led to him saying some dumb stuff. He rolls his eyes at himself.

“I don’t think I could handle talking to anyone else tonight,” Eddie says, voice growing soft. “It’d be, I dunno, too much. With you, I can just… be, y’know?”

Steve is surprised—as he often is—at the honesty. He tries to make his next words sound casual, but he’s sure he fails miserably. “I’m glad I caught you then.”

“Yeah… me too.” Eddie doesn’t let the silence linger for too long this time. “So, any new Henderson theories to update me on?”

Steve snorts. “Of course.”

Letting him talk about his day at the Henderson’s, Eddie hums in the right moments, asks a few follow up questions, makes little jokes, but is otherwise quiet, seemingly content to just let Steve ramble. Happy to hear his voice. He lets Steve talk until he’s yawning too much to complete a full sentence.

“Sorry, I should let you go to sleep, it’s late.” Eddie’s tone is gentle, but like he’d rather be saying anything else.

“Nah, it’s cool, man,” Steve argues sleepily. “Don’t wanna waste your call.”

“It’s never wasted with you.”

“Eddie…” Steve doesn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but doesn’t know if he should. If he even could. He yawns again.

“Come on, bed time,” Eddie’s voice teases.

Steve feels the pull of his eyelids, begging for sleep. “Yeah, alright… Talk to you soon?” He tries to ask it casually, but again, can’t seem to manage it. Something like pleading coming through in his words.

“As soon as I can,” Eddie promises, voice tight with sincerity. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Steve pauses. “Merry Christmas.”

He can hear the sad smile in Eddie’s voice. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“How much longer now?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer.

“Two and a bit years,” Eddie sighs. “Past halfway, at least.”

Even Steve can tell he’s trying to convince himself it’s a good thing, but neither of them feel any happiness about it.

It’s been almost six months since Steve heard from Eddie, much longer than any gap between calls before. Anxiety gnaws away at him, a constant presence whispering in the back of his mind and sitting like a stone in his stomach. The kids—barely even kids now, having graduated high school—were starting to show their worry. He begged and pleaded with invisible entities that they’d hear something soon.

The phone finally rings.

“Hello?” Steve answers with urgency, as he did every time it rang these days.

“Steve?” the voice croaks.

“Eddie!” Bringing a hand to his face, Steve’s eyes welled with tears. “Eddie, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures him, sounding anything but. “They just had us somewhere remote. We didn't have a phone.”

“What the fuck? Can they do that?” Quiet rage slips through Steve’s chest.

“Evidently, they can do whatever they want,” Eddie seethes. “Didn’t stop me from bringing hell at every check up until they moved us again.”

Steve winces at the pain in Eddie’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. It’s fucking awful, what they’re doing to you.”

“It’s bullshit!” Eddie snaps. “I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t believe this was their solution. Like, I’m the one demonised and hunted down in Hawkins and somehow I’m the one that ends up punished for it! It’s not even a solution. All it’s doing is fucking me around.” He takes a breath. “It’s hurting me. It’s hurting us.”

To anyone else, it would sound like Eddie meant him-and-Wayne-us, or even him-and-the-entire-party-us. But Steve knew. Heard it in the way he almost whispered it. Steve wanted to match his anger, throw something, hit something. Instead, he willed it down.

“It fucking sucks,” Steve says, keeping his tone soft. “But we’re so close to the end now. It’ll be over soon.”

“I just…” Eddie’s voice lowers. Steve can picture the way the air deflates out of him. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish… you could’ve come with me.”

“Me too.” Steve lets the back of his head hit the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” Eddie says it like it’s painful. Like it gets caught in his throat halfway up. Like he was saying something else entirely.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I called when I don’t really have anything to say.” It’d been close to silent for more than five minutes before Eddie says it, voice soft. Almost timid.

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice at all. To know you’re alive.”

The silence settles between them again. Comfortable, somehow. Eddie’s voice is smaller when he speaks again. “Only six months left.”

“Only six months,” Steve repeats, slightly more optimistic.

“We can… we can do it, right?” Eddie sounds so unsure. Steve can picture him playing with his hair. “It’ll be okay? When you visit?”

Steve knows what he means. He’s felt the same way for a long time. Scared that once they’re reunited, whatever this thing was—this delicate bubble of vulnerability—between them would burst. Each phone call found it wound tighter and tighter, pulled like a rubber band that would eventually reach its limit and snap, hurting both of them in the process.

“It’ll be more than okay,” Steve says, sounding more sure than he feels. He wants more than anything to be able to hold him. To reach through the phone and wrap his arms tightly around him, feel the rise and fall of his breath and listen to his heartbeat.

“Promise?” Eddie asks, and Steve can picture him chewing on his nails.

“Promise.”

“One month left,” Steve whispers in the dead of night. No one else is there, but something about the late hour makes him quiet. Or maybe it’s what he’s saying. Like a wish that needs to be kept secret, or it won’t come true.

“One month,” Eddie repeats, just as soft. “You’ll be here?”

“Wherever you are, I’ll be there,” Steve assures him.

He’s sure Eddie can feel it too. The thing between them growing more palpable, more solid, more real. The less time they have left, the stronger it becomes. It terrifies both of them.

The car stops in an urban area of Chicago. Steve glances around as he gets out of the backseat, giving a quick thanks to the government official who drove him. His heart races. This is it. Double checking the address on the small piece of paper, he looks up to the block of apartment buildings, scanning the numbers.

Steve doesn’t need to look for long. At the next building, standing in the entryway, with his curly hair pulled into a messy bun, shadow of facial hair around his jaw, face more angular than Steve remembers, is—

“Eddie…” The name comes out in a soft breath, like a prayer. His eyes well up and he quickly blinks, as though the man might disappear if Steve couldn’t see him.

Whatever was holding Eddie to the stoop of his building breaks. He jumps down, skipping the stairs completely and landing with a thud of his boots. He runs, as quick as his legs allow him, until he crashes into Steve, almost knocking them both to the ground. With his arms around Steve’s neck, Eddie whispers his name over and over. Steve pulls him tight, arms wrapped around his waist. Steve can feel Eddie’s heartbeat matching his—racing, pounding, about to jump out of his chest. They hold each other like they’ll never let go, afraid that all of it could be taken away again.

Finally, Eddie pulls back, one hand softly entangled in Steve’s hair, and looks at him, huge eyes filled with tears. “You look different,” Eddie says with a wet laugh.

Steve can’t help but smile. “In a good way?”

Eddie nods with enthusiasm, grinning despite the tears. “In a really good way.”

Their eyes are locked on each other, and Steve can’t hold back anymore. He leans in, cautiously at first, before Eddie gives him a tiny nod, leaning in to meet him halfway. Their lips finally meet, crashing together, and Steve gasps at the feeling. It’s messy and desperate and shy. It’s everything they wished they could say, given to each other in their kiss. Steve brings his hands up to hold Eddie’s face, feeling the tears spill over and wiping them away with his thumbs.

They pull back, laughing and crying. Steve kisses him again and again and again, on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, before finally just looking, taking in every detail of Eddie’s face. The deep brown of his eyes, the thick lashes, the faint dusting of freckles across his nose. “I’m never letting you go. Never again.”

Eddie laughs again. It sounds like a sob. “Never again. You promise?”

“I promise,” Steve says reverently. “I love you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s smile grows wider, a fresh lot of tears spilling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”

#BETTER LATE THAN NEVER LMAO #i wrote most of this while sleep deprived and hungover so like. if you see a typo. no you didn't <3 #saying everything except the things they want to say my beloved #cira writes #cira writes steddieangstyaugust #steddieangstyaugust #sobbing sunday #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic

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girlgenius1111 · 8 months ago

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all of my past i tried to erase it

part 3 of family line tensions are still high between Ingrid and her sister. Mapi tries to keep the peace. Solstråle tries to pretend she's fine. Ingrid tries to pretend she isn't going insane not understanding what is going on. cw: mentions of poor mental health / panic attacks. ingrid is pretty worried about solstråle and whether or not she is safe.

-------

It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Mapi bringing her parents to the match shouldn’t have gotten to you the way it did. You didn’t really have an explanation for it, either. You saw Ingrid talking to Mapi’s mom and it felt like everything that had gotten marginally better in the last few days had miraculously disappeared.

You were 8 again, sitting in the office at school, fielding pitying looks from the office ladies. Both of your parents were busy watching one of Ingrid’s matches; at just 16, she was playing for Rosenborg. Your mom was supposed to bring you to watch, too. She’d forgotten.

You were 10 again, lying to the school nurse that your parents hadn’t known you’d hurt your hand. She said it looked broken, and you pretended that you hadn’t asked your mom to take you to the doctor the night before. You pretended your mom hadn’t told you to stop faking injuries when the attention wasn’t on you for one minute.

You were 13 again, sobbing into your pillow, while everyone celebrated just down the hall. Ingrid was leaving to play in Lillestrøm. 5 hours away. She was leaving you behind.

You were 16, having just been dumped by your first girlfriend. You’d come home in tears, and when you told your dad what was wrong, he told you it was for the best, that a girlfriend was just a distraction. He warned you not to bother your sister with this, because she was busy with much more important things in Barcelona.

You were 17, so drunk you could barely speak, walking home on a dark road in the middle of the night because neither of your parents had answered the phone to come and get you from the horrific party you already regretted attending. It was dark, a windy road you were walking along, and if a car came, you weren’t sure your reflexes would be quick enough. You were 17, stumbling over the smooth pavement, the depression you’d been trying to drown in alcohol making a reappearance. You were 17, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all ended there, just like this.

You were 17, standing in the airport with your parents, preparing to board the plane to Spain. You leaned in towards your mother for a hug. She avoided it, pinching your cheek lightly, and reminding your father that they had a dinner reservation to get to. You watched them walk out of the airport from your place in the security line. Your vision was blurred with tears, but you still could tell that they didn’t look back at you once. You were 17, and your mom hadn’t told you she loved you before you moved across the continent.

In a second, all of these memories that you’d fought so hard to keep locked away deep inside your head were flooding out. Tears were pricking your eyes, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Ingrid didn’t care. Mapi didn’t care. You weren’t worth caring about. How had you forgotten that? How had you let yourself forget that, after everything?

Ingrid didn’t see your expression change, too busy thanking Mapi’s parents profusely for coming to see her play. Mapi did, though. She watched as you caught sight of your sister talking to her mom, and she watched as you flinched like someone had swung at you. She watched as you slipped out of the crowd, speed walking into the building. Mapi was torn in 2 directions, Ingrid on one side, and you running off the other way. You needed Ingrid, most definitely but Mapi didn’t like the look on your face as you ran off, like all of the emotion had been sucked out of you, and all that was left was exhaustion.

Someone else had noticed your disappearing act, though. Caro stood, staring after you, before her gaze fell to Mapi, raising an eyebrow. The defender nodded, and Caro followed after you, while Mapi turned to her girlfriend. She pulled her away from her parents with an apologetic smile, appreciating that Alexia walked over and picked up the conversation where it had left off.

“Ingrid, vamos,” Mapi whispered urgently. Ingrid looked at her, confused and unmoving.

“What? I was in the middle of a conversation, María,” the Norwegian scolded.

“I know, it’s your Solstråle, though, she’s upset, come on,” Mapi insisted, pulling on Ingrid’s hand, who finally seemed to feel a sense of urgency, and let Mapi lead her into the building.

“Upset? Why? Did something happen?”

“She saw you with my mom and just looked really upset.” Mapi explained. A bit of understanding washed over Ingrid’s face, and now she was the one leading her girlfriend, rushing down the hall and beginning to open door after door in search of you.

Caro, meanwhile, had found you pretty easily. You were on the floor of a room she often came to when she was overwhelmed, although that happened much less these days. You knew Caro, obviously, and she knew you, had known you since you were pretty young. She had a calming presence, and the minute she sat next to you, and extended her hand in your direction, you took it gratefully.

“Mapi is bringing Ingrid.” She told you, but didn’t say anything else. She just sat next to your trembling form and held your hand. It was enough for now, enough until your sister arrived.

And when Ingrid did arrive, it was with a loud bang as she threw the door open, sighing in relief at the sight of you. Though, that relief quickly dissolved back into worry at the state you were in. She quickly took Caro’s place at your side, hesitantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your sister was surprised when you turned and threw your arms around her neck, crying silently into her shirt.

“Jeg har deg, kjære. Det er greit, du er ok.” She murmured, looking worriedly at the other two women hovering in the doorway of the room. Mapi nodded at her encouragingly, and Ingrid refocused, rubbing a hand slowly up and down your back.

“Thank you,” Mapi muttered to Caro, as they both stepped into the hall to give you some space.

“Of course.” Caro said easily. “She having a hard time?”

“Which one?” Mapi asked wryly. “Yes. It’s… it’s a work in progress.”

“She’s a good kid.” Caro noted, Mapi nodding her head in agreement. “Well, Marta and I are around if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you, Caro. Really.” Mapi said, squeezing the forward’s shoulder. Caro just shrugged like it was no big deal, and headed back out to the pitch. When Mapi reentered the room, you were tucked perfectly into Ingrid’s lap, although you seemed to have calmed down some. Ingrid was speaking to you in hushed Norwegian, and something she said had you lurching away from her and to your feet, stumbling blindly to the door.

“Solstråle, wait,” Ingrid called, not really sure what she said to upset you, but well aware that it had been something. You fell right into Mapi’s arms, and though she looked a little startled, she easily pulled you close.

“Okay, it’s alright. We’re all okay.” She murmured, noticing the rather heartbroken expression on her girlfriend’s face at the fact that you had fled from her right into Mapi’s arms. After a few minutes, you said something quietly that neither girl could hear. “What was that, nena?”

“Can we go ho- back to the house?” You asked, correcting yourself quickly, and pulling away from the comforting embrace Mapi had you in. Ingrid felt like you’d stabbed her, honestly, when you didn’t let yourself call it home. You were stoic again, though, your face void of emotion, wiping roughly at your cheeks to rid them of tears.

“Kjære,” Ingrid said, hating the way you forced all evidence of your breakdown away. You’d been so upset, about something, but now you were acting as though nothing had happened. Your sister would have climbed into your brain if she could’ve, just to understand what was going on in there.

“Let’s go home.” Mapi said easily, shooting her girlfriend a meaningful look. Ingrid wasn’t supposed to push you, she knew that. It was just getting harder and harder to not do so, especially when she could see how much pain you were in. She couldn't understand why you wouldn’t just talk to her, and you couldn’t understand why she was so concerned or why she was so desperate to hear what you were feeling. And considering it was the two of you, the situation was bound to blow up into an argument. It was just a matter of time.

-------

Ingrid knew what was coming before her phone rang, but she still desperately wanted to avoid it. She was quite comfortable at the moment, curled up on top of Mapi in their bed, a show playing softly in the background. Mapi was scratching lightly at Ingrid’s scalp with one hand, and tracing lines over her back with the other. The movements made Ingrid’s entire body relax, which had definitely been Mapi’s goal, but it was all interrupted when her phone went off from next to her.

She sat up off her girlfriend, glancing at the screen, her expression hardening.

“Your mom?” Mapi guessed, pulling Ingrid back down into her when the Norwegian declined the call.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t talked to her since Solstråle’s letter, have you?”

“No.” Ingrid said. “I think I hate her right now.”

Mapi was surprised, only because Ingrid didn’t hate anyone. If there was going to be a person, though, it would be someone who had hurt you. Because Ingrid didn’t like to kill spiders she found in the house, but Mapi knew she would kill a person for you without a second thought. “That’s okay. You can hate her.”

“I miss her.” Ingrid admitted after another minute, her voice cracking. Her forehead was scrunched with sadness, and her hands gripped Mapi’s shirt tight in her hands.

Mapi sighed, wishing she could take Ingrid’s pain away. And yours too, for that matter. “You can miss her too. You can feel whatever you need to feel.”

“No, I can’t, not when Solstråle is so upset,”

“How your sister feels does not limit how you feel. You can be hurt, and sad, and frustrated too. It doesn’t take away from pequeña’s feelings. Just like her feelings don’t take away from yours. You are both upset. That’s alright.” Mapi said confidently. “This isn’t just happening to your sister. It’s happening to you, too, and you can be sad, mi amor. You can cry.”

Ingrid hadn’t even known she’d been about to cry until Mapi said that, but suddenly there were tears running down her face, and she was clutching tightly to the Spaniard underneath her, who did not seem surprised at all at the sudden emotion.

“I know, baby.” Mapi husked, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of Ingrid’s head. She knew Ingrid needed this, and was content to let her cry it out until she heard a sharp breath from the doorway. You were standing just outside the room, frozen and horrified.

“I’m sorry, Ing,” you mumbled, having come in to say goodnight, rather stunned to see your sister so distraught.

Ingrid could only cry harder, now furious with herself for letting you see this, but too upset to do anything but squeeze Mapi’s hand, wordlessly begging for her to do something.

“Ven aqui, nena, it’s alright.” Mapi said, gesturing you over to the bed. You looked skeptical, but you did so anyway, carefully sitting on the bed next to your sister.

“I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I don’t mean to stress you out.” You whispered. You were in a guilty mood, it seemed, not an angry one, and Ingrid felt that somehow, she preferred when you were angry to this.

“Don’t apologize, pequeña. You haven’t done anything wrong. Ingrid is upset, and you’re upset. It’s okay to be upset, and it’s okay to cry.” Sometimes, Mapi felt like she was teaching preschoolers how to identify and express their emotions when she talked to the both of you, though that might be an easier task.

“I’m not upset with you, Solstråle, I am upset with mom, and I am upset with myself. You don’t need to say sorry. Not for having a panic attack, for having a hard time, for any of it.” Ingrid managed then, taking your hand in hers.

“I’m doing my best.” You said. “I know I’m not making it easy, but I promise I’m trying.”

“We know you are. You’re doing so well, nena.” Mapi said enthusiastically, with so much excitement at you saying something remotely positive about yourself that you and Ingrid both cracked smiles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ingrid asked after a minute. At that, you withdrew, pulling your hand from Ingrid’s and rising from the bed. Both your sister and her girlfriend repressed sighs at your sudden withdrawal.

“No, I’m really tired. I came to say goodnight. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You rushed out, before bolting out of the room at a speed that could barely be considered a walk.

Ingrid sighed once you were out of earshot, settling back into Mapi. “She’s so difficult.”

“She’s stubborn. Like her sister. She’ll come around, just give her time.” Mapi assured her.

Giving you time, though, was a lot harder than it seemed.

-------

Your whole life, you had been encouraged by your parents to be smaller, to take up less space. If you were upset, you should keep it to yourself. If you were angry, you should calm down. You were taught that your needs always came second to everyone else’s. You didn’t like to be vulnerable with people, and you didn’t like to put your emotions on others.

So when you woke up the next day, it was the feeling of intense shame swirling around inside of you. You’d ruined what was an impressive win for your sister, and a nice moment with Mapi’s parents. You’d upset Ingrid, so much so that she had cried about it.

Too much. You were being too much.

You resolved yourself to be happy today. If not happy, content. Mapi and Ingrid probably needed a day off from your ridiculous, all over the place, emotions. So today, you wouldn’t feel. You’d be perfect, you’d be small, and you’d cause as little trouble as possible.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for that to be the opposite of what Mapi and Ingrid wanted from you. They didn’t care if you took up space. They just wanted you to talk. More than anything, they just wanted you to be okay, no matter how inconvenient that process was for them.

It was a day off for both girls, due to the match the day before, and they were able to let you sleep in. Ingrid was worried you were sleeping too much, but Mapi assured her that angsty teens always needed a lot of sleep, and depressed teens going through a rough time needed even more sleep. Pair that with the intense panic attack you’d had the day before, you were bound to be exhausted.

When noon rolled around, though, and you’d yet to make an appearance, Mapi relented, much to Ingrid’s relief, who had half a mind to check you for a pulse. Mapi made a coffee to bring up to you, opening your door quietly to find you out cold under the covers.

With Snø clutched tightly in your arms, your nose pressed against the soft polar bear, you looked so young.

“Pequeña, despierta,” Mapi murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed and pulling the covers away from your face a bit.

You blinked up at her groggily, an adorably sleepy expression on your face, and Mapi couldn’t help but push some hair out of your face and smile down at you. You looked slightly suspicious, as you couldn’t remember being woken up like this in the entire time living in Spain, but Mapi just handed you your coffee, and settled on the edge of your bed.

“Morning,” you said after a minute and a rather large sip of coffee.

“Afternoon.” Mapi corrected, a little confused when your face turned red at the comment. “It’s 12:15.”

“That’s weird. Normally Ingrid comes to make sure I’m breathing if I sleep past 10.” You noted.

Mapi chuckled. “We’re working on some of your sister’s annoying habits.”

“Don’t get rid of too many, or there won’t be anything left.” You said, your lips tugging up into a smirk.

“Okay! I will just go through this chocolate croissant I made for you in the garbage!” Ingrid scoffed from the doorway, turning on her heel and marching back down the stairs.

If there was any surefire way to get you out of bed, it was to present you with a breakfast pastry.

Within 90 seconds, you had kicked Mapi out, thrown some clothes on and bounded down the stairs, in search of the promised croissant. It was sitting on a plate at the counter, waiting for you, next to your sister who was glaring at you slightly.

“Thank you, Ing,” you said sweetly, throwing her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.

You hit Mapi’s hand playfully when she reached for your croissant, and she withdrew it with a laugh. “You’re like breakfast pastries the way Ingrid is about coffee.”

“Reasonable? Reasonably attached to it? Is that what you mean, María?” Ingrid asked with a frown.

“Of course, mi amor.” Mapi said with a smile, kissing Ingrid’s cheek softly. You averted your eyes, but you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t make you happy to see your sister loved so well.

The morning, or afternoon, was going exactly as you’d hoped. No attempts at conversation. No feelings. Of course, it couldn’t last. Once you’d finished eating, Ingrid perked up and seemed to prepare herself for what she was about to say, which instantly made you weary.

“We should talk about last night, kjære.” Ingrid said calmly.

You froze, slowly putting your mug back on the counter. Both other girls watched the way your whole body tense, the way every ounce of emotion was wiped off your face.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” You said stiffly.

“That is not true. Something upset you, and we should discuss it.” Ingrid argued.

“Ingrid, it’s fine. Just leave it. We don’t need to talk about that. We don’t need to talk about anything.” You replied defensively.

“It’s not fine!” Ingrid said, raising her voice, and shaking off Mapi’s gestures to calm down. “None of this is fine. We need to talk about last night. We need to talk about the letter you wrote. We need to get you in therapy. These are all things that need to happen, solstråle. We’ve given you time, now we need to do this.”

“I am not going to therapy.” You declared, standing up with a scoff and crossing your arms across your chest. “Ingrid, I am fine. I don’t need to talk and I don’t need help.”

Ingrid grew visibly more angry with you at that, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration.

“Amor, take a breath.” Mapi said quietly, sighing to herself when Ingrid did not do so.

“You don’t need help? That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard. You do not write the things that you wrote and then turn around and say you’re fine. You. Need. Help.”

“Ingrid. I am not going to therapy, and I am done talking about this.” You said, your voice dangerously quiet.

Your sister wasn’t phased, stepping closer to you with her eyes narrowed. “You will go to therapy if I say you will, and this conversation is not over until I say it is.”

In retrospect, even Ingrid realized that this was decidedly the wrong thing to say. You didn’t take well to being told what to do. Your reaction really should have been worse; Ingrid had gotten off easy.

“Jesus, Ingrid, do you hear yourself? You sound just like mom.” You spit back, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the hurt that flashed across your sister’s face. “I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with you.” You spun around and began stomping towards the stairs. “Don’t fucking follow me.” You warned over your shoulder, causing Ingrid’s jaw to drop.

“Do not-” Ingrid began, starting after you.

“Amor, leave her.” Mapi said, intervening before Ingrid got very far, and pulling her back.

“She is the most frustrating person on the planet.” Ingrid huffed, slamming a hand down onto the counter. Mapi looked unimpressed.

“She is probably thinking the same thing about you right now. I told you not to push her.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Could you be on my side here for once?” She asked bitingly.

Mapi very calmly shook her head, opening her mouth to explain when Ingrid’s eyebrows flew up on her forehead. “No. I am on your sister’s side, and you should be too. No one has been for a really long time.”

The Norwegian deflated at that, sinking down into one of the stools at the counter. Mapi continued speaking, pulling Ingrid’s hair gently out of the bun it was in, and running her fingers through it. “You’re looking at this wrong, mi amor. She doesn’t need you to talk her into therapy. She’ll get there on her own, you just need to give her time. That girl has a long way to go before she admits she needs help, believe me.”

Ingrid sighed deeply. “Can you go check on her? She’s mad at me, I just need you to make sure she’s okay and she isn’t going to do anything stupid.”

“Of course.” Mapi said, delicately kissing Ingrid’s lips. “I love you.” She reminded the Norwegian with a soft, almost shy smile.

Ingrid wanted to cry at how sweet, how perfect, how helpful and kind and funny and beautiful her girlfriend was. “I love you, so so much.”

Mapi headed for the stairs, and Ingrid made yet another cup of coffee, a coffee she wouldn’t drink.

Because Mapi came running back down the stairs a minute later, an apprehensive look on her face as she approached her girlfriend.

“Mi amor, she isn’t up there.” She said carefully.

“What do you mean she isn’t up there,” Ingrid asked, rising to her feet and feeling panic rise within her.

Mapi just shook her head, putting her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders. “She isn’t up there. Her window is open, I think she snuck out.”

Ingrid felt like something inside of her was collapsing, leaving behind a chasm that was quickly filling with anxiety. “Where… what? She… she’s gone? She…we have to-”

What had you left to do? Only horrible, life shattering options of where you were and what you were doing were flying through Ingrid’s head, and she reached out, latching on to Mapi’s outstretched hands.

“Amor, breathe. Calm down. We’ll find her. Where would she go?”

Mapi hoped, with everything in her, that Ingrid had an answer. Because she had to be calm right now, for Ingrid, but Barcelona was a big city. And if you didn’t want to be found… Mapi didn’t know what would happen.

Ingrid’s mind was racing, but one thought pushed to the front of everything else. “The lake, there’s a lake in Melhus she would always go to when she was upset. She’d go to water, a body of water.”

Mapi nodded. “Okay, there are 2 beaches in walking distance, in opposite directions. We’ll go to one, and we’ll send Frido to the other.”

Privately, Mapi hoped Frido found you first. She wasn’t quite sure that you wouldn’t bolt away from Ingrid, but you wouldn’t be expecting Frido to pop up.

-------

A quick call to Frido later, Mapi was directing one very frazzled Norwegian into the car, and setting off for the beach. Ingrid was deep in thought, and Mapi kept her hand on her girlfriend’s leg, softly and soothingly rubbing her thumb back and forth. It was only a few minutes to the beach, and Mapi knew Ingrid would talk before they arrived.

“Do you think she’d do something stupid?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her hand covering Mapi’s and gripping tightly. The Spaniard didn’t need her to explain what she meant; she knew this question was coming, really.

“She said she wouldn’t.” Mapi said calmly.

“She said she wouldn’t ‘do that to me,’ that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it, especially now that she’s mad at me.”

“This is a little fight. She wouldn’t… do that. Not over this.” Mapi reassured her, but Ingrid remained unconvinced.

“I don’t know what she’s thinking, María, maybe she was lying before.”

“Ingrid, mi amor, calm down. You have to trust her. Even when you’re scared, and even when it feels like you should take her bedroom door off the hinges and implant her with a GPS chip. You have to trust her not to hurt herself.”

“But what if she does?” Ingrid asked softly, as if saying the words loud enough would somehow will it into existence.

“We can’t think like that. Promise me you won’t think like that, okay?”

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed faintly. Both of them knew she was lying. It was all she’d been worrying about for days, and all she would worry about for many to come.

--------

Frido found you first. When she drove by the beach and didn't see you there, she got another idea. There was a rock climbing place nearby; Ingrid had said you always used to go to a lake back home when you were upset. Though Frido didn’t want to say so, it had been a long time since Ingrid had lived with you, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if your habits had changed. And the Swede knew from your instagram that you spent a lot of time rock climbing. She told Mapi where she was headed, and sped over to the gym.

Sure enough, as soon as she walked in the building, she spotted you in the middle of the hardest wall, seemingly only using the smallest holds to get yourself up. You were breathing hard, and the worker belaying you looked a bit concerned.

Frido pulled her phone out, shooting off a quick text to Mapi. “She’s here, she’s okay. Let me talk to her, don’t let Ingrid come in. I’ll bring her out.”

Ingrid probably wouldn’t help the situation, if you were as angry as you seemed. The blonde spoke quickly to the front desk attendant, and headed over to where you were.

She stood, just watching you. You were a few feet from the top now, luckily for your hands, which you clearly had not put enough chalk on, and were beginning to really hurt. With only a bit to go, you took a risk, attempting an impressive, one armed pull to get your other hand to the next hold. You just barely missed, falling away from the wall.

“Fuck,” you cursed, swinging back towards the wall and smacking it with your hand. You were lowered down, clearly fuming, and Frido took the opportunity to step in front of you, giving the girl attached to the other end of the rope a look.

“Again,” you requested, avoiding Frido’s gaze.

She took your hand in hers, though, inspecting the tear in your skin, shaking her head. “No, that’s enough Solstråle.”

“Leave me alone, Frido.” You snapped, trying to pull away from her when you felt the rope fall slack. You turned, seeing that the worker had abandoned her harness in favor of going to help someone else, no doubt at Frido’s direction.

You rolled your eyes, quickly regretting it when the Swede raised an eyebrow at you. Ingrid could be scary sometimes, but she had nothing on Frido.

“Are they here?” You asked, loosening the harness and stepping out of it with an exasperated sigh.

“They’re outside. You terrified your sister.” Frido said, pulling you over to a bench and making you sit down, before handing you a bottle of water.

You looked unimpressed. “I’m 18, I can handle myself in the city for an hour.”

“She wasn’t worried about that, she was worried you were going to hurt yourself.” Frido said bluntly, sitting down next to you. She ignored how stiff you’d grown and how uncomfortable you seemed, reaching for your hand and looking at it critically.

“That wasn’t on purpose.” You said defensively, wrenching your hand away once again. “And I told her I wouldn’t do that.”

“Can you blame her for worrying, Solstråle, really? And maybe you didn’t do that on purpose, but you came here to push yourself instead of dealing with your feelings in a healthy way.”

You really hated that she was right. Frido was always right. It was simultaneously her worst and best trait.

“Are they mad?” You asked in a small voice, suddenly looking very much your age. Frido stood and held out a hand to help you up.

“Not right now. Just worried. Ingrid’s going to give you a hug and you’re going to let her.” Frido instructed. You supposed that was fair. And really, you could use a hug. Hugs from your sister always made you feel better, even if you’d never admit it.

As you exited the building, you instantly spotted your sister and her girlfriend by their car. Mapi was leaning calmly against the Cupra, while Ingrid was pacing frantically, speaking fast and gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Did I do that?” You asked quietly.

Frido laughed. “I think she was born like that.”

As you neared the car, Ingrid turned as Mapi pointed at you, her face melting with relief at the sight of you. It really hit you, then, how worried she must have been, to still be so anxious even after Frido had likely told her you were okay. You weren’t making this easy on your sister.

She practically knocked you over with the force of her hug. “You’re okay.” She murmured into the top of your head, leaving a kiss there.

“I’m okay.” You reiterated, letting yourself hug her back tightly, even if it was just for a moment. She felt you tighten your arms around her almost unconsciously, and made a note to hug you more often. Even if it seemed like you weren’t very interested. After a minute she pulled back, placing both hands on your cheeks and making you look at her.

“Next time leave through the front door? And tell me where you’re going? Please?” She asked. You appreciated that she didn’t tell you to do this, leaving it more as a request, although you knew it was a reasonable rule for her to put in place.

“Promise.” You said quietly. She nodded her head, satisfied, before pulling Frido into a hug that also looked to be too tight. Mapi was looking at you, rather unimpressed. You knew she was not happy with you for upsetting your sister so much, and though it annoyed you a bit, you knew it was deserved. And you appreciated that your sister had someone that was so protective over her.

“In the car, nena. I want to talk to you when we get home.” Mapi instructed. You got in the car with no argument, the fight having gone out of you a bit. It had nothing to do with the hug Ingrid had given you, nothing at all. Definitely not. Instead of anger, you only felt apprehension, because Mapi looked dead serious about whatever she wanted to talk about.

-------

You were nothing short of shocked when Mapi opened the door to the garage and gestured you inside upon arriving home. Ingrid watched on anxiously, and you pretended not to see the way Mapi whispered some reassurance to her and kissed her cheek, before pointing her towards the kitchen

You’d never been in the garage before; it was Mapi’s space. You were already invading her home, you wouldn’t invade the one place of the house that was really hers, too. You knew she worked something out there, knew there was a reason both cars parked in the driveway instead of in the garage.

Mapi followed you into the room and sat down on a stool next to the large motorcycle in the middle of the garage. It was clearly in the process of being restored. You hadn’t known Mapi rode motorcycles. Well, you hadn’t known that your sister let Mapi ride a motorcycle. You stood awkwardly in the door as Mapi inspected 2 different wrenches, until she pointed at the stool next to her.

“Ven aqui, nena.” She said.

You took a seat, not really enjoying the tense silence that washed over the room. “Are you mad at me?” You asked after a minute. For all your anger, and all your bravado, you didn’t like it when people were mad at you. Especially not people you looked up to, people you admired.

“No. Not mad, nena. Never mad. I wish you hadn’t snuck out your window, but I understand why you did. I wish sometimes you thought a bit more about how your actions affect me and your sister, but I know how hard that is to do when you’re as angry as you are.”

“I’m not angry.” You said defensively. Mapi rolled her eyes, handing you a couple of tools and beginning to tighten something on the bike.

“You are angry. You’re so angry that you feel like you’re going to explode sometimes. You’re so angry that sometimes you forget that you’re sad, too. You’re angry, and you’re hurt, and I cannot blame you for that. If anyone has a right to those emotions, it’s you.” You didn’t really enjoy being perceived so well, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I know angry, nena. Do you remember when I hurt my knee?”

You nodded. The first few weeks of Mapi's injury hadn’t been a fun time, your sister beyond stressed with dealing with Mapi’s injury and her new role in the team, and you’d tried hard to be on your best behavior.

“I started working on this bike a year ago, when everything happened with the Spanish federation. It was Ingrid’s idea, a way for me to distract myself. When I hurt my knee, it had been a bit since I’d worked on it, but suddenly I was back in this garage until all hours of the night. It’s nice to be able to control something like this, when everything else feels out of your control. That is how climbing is for you, yes?”

You relaxed a bit at the turn the conversation was taking, and Mapi wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t just the topic; it was the fact that she wasn’t staring at you, putting pressure on you to give her an answer she wanted to hear. You were just talking. Casually.

“Yeah. I’m in control, and I don’t have to think about anything else. It’s relaxing.”

“It’s good for you to have an outlet like that.” Mapi stated. “This bike was Ingrid’s idea, when we first got together. Do you know what her other idea was?”

You were pretty sure you did, and you grimaced at the thought. “Therapy?”

Mapi snorted, handing you the wrench she was using and taking the screwdriver from your hand. “Yes therapy. You don’t have to look at it like that, though, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“It’s not for me.” You said decisively.

Mapi just shrugged. “I didn’t think it was for me either.” She paused, knowing your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d ask for more information.

“What changed your mind?” You asked after a minute.

“Your sister did. After the euros, I had a hard time coming back to Barça and playing. Those weeks were some of the hardest of my life, trying to find my rhythm again but trying to recover from the stress I’d been under that summer. I was a mess. And Ingrid was right there with me, through all of it. I’d had a really bad day, and I asked Ingrid to come home early from a lunch she had. She came home, calmed me down, and afterwards, she asked me if I trusted her. I said I did. And she said that she really wanted me to try therapy. That I didn’t have to feel how I felt, and I deserved help. I deserved to not be miserable. She asked me to try it, for her, just give it a try.”

“And you did.”

“And I did. Because she’d done so much for me, I couldn’t refuse her request. Not when I knew she just wanted the best for me. I gave it a shot, and it helped, more than anything else had helped. It wasn’t a fix all, but it helped. It made me feel like I was doing something to get better.”

Mapi abandoned her work on the bike, looking at you for the first time since you’d entered the garage. You could only see sincerity in her gaze. Not anger, but annoyance. Just sincerity. “You deserve help, Solstråle. No matter how you feel about yourself, Ingrid and I know you. And we know you deserve help. You’re a good person, and you deserve to be happy.”

María sounded so sure. So completely convinced. You looked away from her, blinking hard.

“You don’t have to agree to anything now. Keep an open mind about it. Think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly, grateful that Mapi didn’t make a big deal out of it, only nodding slightly.

“One more promise?” She asked.

“What?”

“Talk to us. Or just me, or just Ingrid. We’re a little lost here, nena. It feels like we were just kind of plopped down in the middle of this. We had no idea anything was going on, not really. And all of a sudden we’re reading that letter, and realizing we missed a lot. That’s on us; we should have noticed sooner. We don’t have the whole picture, though, and that makes it really hard for us to figure out how to help you. We’ll both worry a lot less if you talked to us, just a little bit.”

That was reasonable, you had to admit. When she put it like that. You’d spent so much time being annoyed that no one had noticed, then being annoyed when they finally did notice, you hadn’t really spent a ton of time thinking about how little they knew. There was no context to your behavior, aside from what you’d put in the letter. And that just barely scratched the surface. You supposed they deserved an explanation. At least a bit of one.

“I’ll try.” You promised.

Mapi grinned at you this time, an infectious smile. “Bueno! Come here with that wrench. No, that one. Put it on this bolt. Twist.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. Easily. You got the feeling that Mapi would have let it go if you’d insisted on it, but you miraculously felt better. Talking, listening had made you feel better. Mapi had made you feel better.

-------

You both emerged from the garage around an hour and a half later, when the smell of baking cookies became too strong to resist. Ingrid had clearly been stress baking, one of your favorite of her habits. There were at least 3 different types of cookies on the counter, some done baking, some still in progress. It smelled so distinctly of home in the house, it was almost overwhelming.

“I have something for you,” Ingrid said, drying her hands and stepping away from the counter when you walked into the room.

“I can see that.” You said, nodding to the cookies appreciatively, but Ingrid shook her head.

“No, something else.” Ingrid said.

“OH! I do too.” Mapi said excitedly, and they both disappeared in different directions. You stood bewildered in the kitchen, not quite sure what you were about to be given.

They returned simultaneously, each holding what looked to be 2 frames. “Mapi’s first.” Ingrid directed. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

You looked surprisingly at Mapi, taking the present and beginning to unwrap the wrapping paper. “What is this for?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” Ingrid said quietly. You froze momentarily, an unreadable expression flashing across your face. “I know it seems like we forgot, but we didn’t. We got the dates messed up, but we had presents, and we had dinner reservations, just… for the 25th. Not the 15th.”

“Oh. I thought you’d forgotten.” You said slowly, seemingly slightly emotional.

“Nope, just bad at remembering dates. Now open your present.” Mapi said impatiently, bouncing on her feet like an overexcited child.

You unwrapped it slowly, as if you were slightly weary of what it might be. When you pulled the frame from the wrapping paper, though, every wall you’d put up fell instantly, your jaw dropping open at the piece of art in your hands.

It was a map. Not just a map, but a map of all the hiking trails in Barcelona. It was textured, detailed, labeled. It was intricate, all neutrals and earthy colors. It was so you. From the contents to the design, it was like it had been made just for you.

“Mapi…” You whispered, staring, stunned, at the map. “Where did you… how did you… what?”

“Ale’s sister Fresa went to school with this girl that hand makes maps like this. I got her name from diablillo, and I told her what I wanted. Do you like it, do you like it?” Mapi asked excitedly.

Mapi got her answer when you handed the frame to Ingrid, and launched yourself the few feet between you and Mapi, wrapping her in a tight hug. Mapi beamed at Ingrid, who was trying very hard not to cry. She hadn’t even given Mapi any advice on the gift. It had been all her girlfriend’s idea, she executed it all by herself, determined to get Solstråle the perfect gift.

“It’s perfect, thank you María,” you mumbled. The ridiculous smile on Mapi’s lips didn’t falter at the use of her real name, only squeezing you tighter.

“Te amo, Solstråle.” She said back. For once, you believed it. When you pulled away from the hug, it was to see Mapi looking smugly at your sister. “INGRID I DEFINITELY WON.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She hasn’t even opened my present yet.”

“Still. I won.” Mapi smirked.

Now it was Ingrid’s turn to hand you your gift. It was wrapped in the same paper, and you tore it off, almost cautiously, not quite sure what Ingrid would have gotten you.

You were, once again, speechless at what you saw. This time, your eyes filled with tears immediately. Ingrid wasn’t as excited as Mapi had been, instead looking at you anxiously.

It was a painting of a waterfall back home not far from your house. It was so distinct, you knew Ingrid must have paid a ridiculous amount of money to get someone to hand paint it. Each individual stroke was so precise, blending perfectly into the image it was supposed to be, but if you focused hard, you could pick out the greens and greys and blues and whites that you’d grown up with.

It felt like home. It felt comforting. You could almost smell the trees, feel the cool sting of wind on your cheeks. It was a little piece of home just for you, and it was perfect. So beautiful and artistic that you weren’t sure you were worthy of it, but you looked at it in awe nonetheless. You wiped at your cheeks, not able to control the tidal wave of emotion washing over you.

“Kjære? Is it okay?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her eyes searching your face, trying to figure out if these were good tears or bad tears.

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? Ingrid… it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s… perfect. Thank you.” You said, turning to her with a look of complete shock. And even though it pained Ingrid that you were so surprised to receive a nice gift for your birthday, she pushed that feeling down. Instead, she pulled you in towards her, placing the frame on the counter so she could hug you properly. You were happy with it, now, and that was all Ingrid had control over.

After a few seconds, Ingrid moved to pull away and break the hug, but you kept your arms wrapped around her, not quite ready to let go yet. Maybe it was the homesickness, or maybe it was your sister making you feel so known, and so loved. Whatever the reason, you just wanted her near you for a minute more, holding you nice and tight and safe against her.

“I love you,” she whispered, hearing you mumble the words back, your voice thick with emotion. When you did pull away, a minute later, it was to wipe at your face in an almost embarrassed manner.

Seeing how desperate you were for the attention to be off your tears, Mapi spoke up, her voice light and easy. “You can put them up in your room, you don’t have anything on the walls.”

You looked at the ground, then, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know I could put anything up on them.” You admitted.

The room fell quiet, but even though you could tell that what you said had hurt Ingrid and Mapi, they just shook their heads softly. “It’s your room, for good, you can do whatever you want to it.” Ingrid told you.

You were about to thank her, and try to move the conversation long when Mapi let out a dramatic gasp. Both you and Ingrid whipped your heads to look at her, confused at the mischievous grin on her face.

“Ikea. WE CAN GO TO IKEA AND GET FURNITURE FOR SOLSTRÅLE’S ROOM.”

“María, calm down. Maybe she doesn’t want to redo her room.” Ingrid looked at you hopefully, and you knew it had nothing to do with your room, and everything to do with her not wanting to take Mapi to ikea.

You simply smirked back at Ingrid, who sighed and shut her eyes for a minute.

“Okay. Ikea.” She said finally. You and Mapi cheered, comically loudly, completely ignoring the rules she was setting in favor of high fiving each other and going to get ready to leave. “María, you are not building anything. Solstråle does not need her bed to collapse under her in the middle of the night. And kjære, please, please, don’t let Mapi talk you into a loft bed, you’ll fall off of it and break your arm. Amor? Kjære? ARE EITHER OF YOU LISTENING!” Ingrid shouted after you, rolling her eyes at the chants of ikea echoing around the house.

Mapi in Ikea was a handful. You, too, were a handful at the store. Together? She was going to lose one of you, she was sure of it. It had been a long day already. And it was only set to get longer.

--------

fluffy engen-león family trying to put furniture together in the next part?

yes, that IS all i have to say about this chapter thank you for your time.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #platonic reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #sol☀️#🍓☀️

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jaysng · 7 months ago

Text

confessing to his mute crush | pjs

pairing: jay x deaf!reader

genre: complete fluff

summary: jay and deaf reader both seem to like each other, just when he thinks that his confession was a pure failer the reader does something surprising.

“i. hope. i. am. not. late” jay signed and chuckled as he fixed his cross body bag standing nervously infront of you which got out of place while he was running to the stop you had asked him to be at.

you smile at him, knowing he recently had learned sign language just to be able to communicate with you and so he was, a little slow and not so clear.

you loved cycling alot, and bought this brand new bicycle and you had asked him if he wanted to spend a day out riding it and then go off to the beach and sit there.

jay and you met through the same animal care shelter you guys volunteered to work at, his charming smile immediately caught your attention. however it was hard to communicate with your muteness, you only knowing sign language and him knowing none of it.

however within a span of few months, jay started learning it to be able to communicate with you.

it made your heart flutter, i mean it’s the effort and dedication. still you asked yourself ‘does he even like me back?’

“is. this. the. new. cycle. that. you. bought?”he asked as you nodded and got off it, you touched the cute basket decorated with a small miffy teddy and a pink bow, it also had the dirty wrapper of chocolate you ate earlier.

embarrassed, you took it out and threw it somewhere on the ground.

“i decorated it” you signed as he looked at you and smiled, making you blush as you looked away, anywhere but his eyes.

“예쁘다” he said, even though you obviously didn’t hear him you read his lips quickly anyways. signing a quick thank you you sit back on your cycle and signal him to sit.

he sits behind you hands on your shoulder as you begin to hit the pedal and ride around the city.

some moments later you feel jay’s hand shifting from your shoulder to your waist now that you’re cycling in a well pace.

the wind blows on your face blowing your hair back at his face too, you hit the break for a moment and turn around and give him an apologetic look.

he smiles at you taking your hair and putting them to one side of your shoulder and keeping his chin on the other, staring at you the entire time he does so.

you squirm and try to get used to the feeling of his charp chin on your shoulder as it’s digging through.

you shove the feeling off as you start riding again, this moment was really perfect for you, everything was so good. a nice cloudy, windy weather with your favorite person friend hugging you by the waist and face on your shoulder, what a dream really.

you guys rode the cycle around the city, stopping by a store to get ice cream, as you parked your cycle near the store you guys stood on the footpath and he bought some ice cream.

you looked at him to see if he finished his and you caught him staring at you, he pretended to look around and controlled his cheeky smile but then something else caught your attention wired headphones connected to his phone in his pocket.

you grab them and gain his attention as he looks back at you “you like music?” he nodded and took his phone put of the pocket searching for something.

curiously, you stared as you got closer to see his screen “this. is. my. favorite. song” he signed enthusiastically as you widen your eyes giving him a cheering gesture.

you stopped as you looked at him “i wish i could listen to it.. it must be nice” silence filled the space between both of you as you stared deep into you while smiling “it is.”both of you finished the ice cream before it melted.

after cycling and strolling around the pretty city here you were sitting on the rocks of the beach as the wind blew every once in a while.

jay had this thing forever in his mind, he loved you he loved you so damn much. everything you did got him screaming internally to wife him up.

“it’s fun being with you, you know?” you signed as jay felt his heart racing a million times in a second what could she mean by that? she probably meant as a friend right? or am i letting my stupid thoughts take over.

“thank. you.” he says as you close your eyes and give him the widest smile.

being with him made you feel full, it made you feel like finally you had a friend. but you quickly fell in love with him because of his mannerisms.

even though at school no one really bullied you, but there wasn’t something big for someone to findi you interesting. emptiness fill inside of you, as for others you were just there, not enough things to be interesting for someone. or atleast for the people around you. jay knew these very well that’s why he hated the fact he fell in love with you so fast and was worried that you might reject him because of how fast everything would happen.

but little did he know that your feelings were pretty.. mutual you can say.

there was a wooden stick in your hand with which you were doodling on the beach sand with, jay was observing each and every move.

with that lavender sundress you were wearing it made everything 10 times cuter in his eyes. the way the wind slightly blew back your hair but you kept on fixing it.

you started moving the stick and you wrote your name’s inital with did adding a unfilled heart after it and looked at jay “want to try?” you ask bringing the stick closer to him as he accepts it.

he looks at you for a second passing you a lovestruck look.

J +

he writes before your names inital as you shoot him a confusing look with a nervous smile.

he looks at you as his smile drops, emotions very visible in his eyes.

he adds an equals to sign between your inital and the unfilled heart, following with filling the unfill heart that you drew.

your smile drops as you stare back at him, completely in shock and he stares back with a regretful look in his eyes.

you watch him take a big breath after looking at your reaction, not quite promising is it.

“i. like. you.” you sit there, puzzled. you don’t know whether to do something or cry, the moment feels unreal.

it all felt so quick that you didn’t realise you haven’t responded to him yet for about past five minutes atleast.

his hopeful looks now dies as he apologizes and stands up, “i am sorry, i am sorry, sorry i should leave i should probably leave.” he says as you try to read his lips “sorry…. should leave” you could pick up some of the words not many because of how rapid and low his mouth worked.

you watch him stand up quickly wearing his bag not even sparing another glance at you as he starts walking away.

you felt your cheeks getting warm as everythinf starts getting blurry due to the upcoming tears.

you shake and get up dropping your own bag on the floor.

“stay”

did i say it right? you swore you heard the vibrations in your body of your own voice. not fully hearing what you said or if you said it right or no.

breathing heavily, jay stops in his tracks as he turns around and stares at you in disbelief as you break down. right on that spot you were standing at.

the word wasn’t clear and mix of broken and light cracks of course, a very weak one because of the vocal chords.

you felt bad for making him wait for so long or making his excitement go away for taking your no response as rejection.

you were just shocked, he actually liked you back? your entire life you felt so neglected and behind just because you were deaf, but now some thing good is finally.. happening?

now standing in a distance both of you staring at each other as he watches uncontrollable tears flow down your face as you sign a ‘i like you too.” while lowering your head and start sobbing.

jay runs back to you and closes the distance, both of you hug like losers.

because of the closeness you can feel his body vibrations and shivering, as you realise that he is crying you push him back to see his eyes now your eyes widened “why are you crying silly i should be the one crying..”

he just shrugs while trying to give you a smile and crying.

you bring your hands to wipe his tears off as you hold his face. his hands naturally rest on your waist.

for a short moment you guys look deep into each other’s eyes as you lean in signaling for a kiss.

you felt him giggling like a teenage boy as he leaned in and pressed his soft lips to yours.

he could taste the strawberry ice cream you ate earlier on your lips, your scent filling his nostrils and working as a hypnosis.

you pull away taking a long breath, “wasn’t it too long for a first kiss?” you sign while wiping away your own tears now and laughing.

once again complete silence fills the beach as the only thing playing if only you could hear, was the sound of the waves. both of you completely lost in each other’s eyes, it was like your eyes are speaking it all for you.

but you noticed it, you noticed he was holding back a reply so you hit his chest “say it. say what you want to say.”

he broke the eye contact looking away at the sea, the waves coming and hitting the shore as his stupid smile came back on his face.

he looked back at you and fixed your hair, brought his hands back to himself and signed at you.

“i. could. kiss. you. for. an. eternity.”

#jay fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen #park jongseong #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enha #jongseong x reader #jay x reader #jay scenarios #jay enhypen #jongseong fluff #enhypen jongseong #park jay

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months ago

Text

Just some Stray - Sergio Perez x Mechanic! Reader

Plot: Sergio decides to spend his summer break how most drivers do, but his car breaks down in an unknown country and he needs to find help.

It was a pretty standard day for you in the UK. It was a Monday so you were working in the garage that your dad used to own beofre he passed it onto you and your brother. You had an oil change on a Vauxhall Corsa in the morning, an overheating engine just before lunch in a Audi A3.

It was your turn to go get lunch for you and the rest of the staff. Everyone agreed on the local sandwich shop that was only a 5 minute drive away. You took the company car, not wanting to waste your own petrol even on a 5 minute drive, and gave the hearty order of food to the lady at the till who comically wiped the non existent sweat off her forehead.

You waited on one of the seats scrolling through your phone before your name was called with the large order.

“Hmmmm there’s a lot right? Could you help me take it to the truck?” You asked politely. The chef nods seeing its a slow day and takes the boxes and helps you load them onto the back seats.

“Thank you for the help” you grin in a flirty sort of way before running off and into the drivers seat. You crank the windows down and turn the old radio that only had three different stations tuned to it.

As your driving down the winding country road back to the garage, you slow down seeing a car pulled into a lay-by, a man shouting into his phone on the grass bank.

“Hey, you good?” You shout out your window that’s rolled down as you look over at the car that’s steaming at the front from the bonnet.

“Si, I mean yes sorry” he says seemingly struggling to switch from his phone call in Spanish to English with you.

“It looks like your engines overheated, this car looks pretty new too, which is kind of concerning” you point out as you check your wing mirror to make sure no one’s speeding round the country lane behind you.

“Let me pull over and help” you say as you put you car gear from neutral back into first to pull off.

“No no that isn’t necessary, my … friend? Has already called … erm this company?” He says showing you his phone and the AA roadside assistance number.

“Ahh man how long have they told you?” You ask and he shrugs before he answers his phone again.

“5 hours! WHAT! I can’t be on the side of this little windy road for 5 hours are you kidding me?” He asks to the supposed friend on the other line.

“That’s what I’m telling you, look I own a garage I can get your car there and fix it up for you! Much cheaper than AA I promise, and quicker” you nod and he sighs before having a hushed conversation with the friend.

You pull up in front of his car and jump out just as he ends the call.

“You have a garage?” He asks with a suspicious look. You understood that it was a nice car and he probably thought you’d try and drive off with it or something.

“Yes, I’m a mechanic. I can take a look at the car but … it’s going to be an in garage job” you sigh having seen many sporty cars get like this if they were driven a little … boyishly? If that’s even a word.

Which you didn’t expect from this older, Mexican, gentleman.

“Yes please take a look” he says clasping his hands together. You leave with a little laugh going round to the front of the car and popping up the bonnet.

A huge puff of water like smoke come burning up into your face making you flush a little red but it wasn’t anything that you weren’t used to.

“Okay, yeah it’s the cooling system. I can fix it up at the shop” you say wiping the sweat off the forehead from the sheer heat that was coming from the car.

“Alright, how will you get it to the shop” he asks and you point at the truck that allows you to get one car on the back.

“Can you even do that” he asks scratching the back of his neck. Even though many others would have taken offence to that, you couldn’t help but laugh it off as it didn’t look like an easy job.

“Yeah, don’t worry I won’t get a scratch on her” you smile before you climb up onto the back of the truck, grabbing the main chain to lift the car up.

After closing the bonnet and attaching the chain to the car you start your own engine and pulling the car up onto the truck with Sergio’s guidance. Once it’s on you come out to secure it and make sure it won’t roll off even on the 3 minute drive back to the garage.

“Okay, you can jump in” you smile once you show him the car is secure. He goes into the passenger side while you wait for some traffic to go past and walk round to the drivers side.

“Oh erm, you want a sandwich or something? We got some spares” you point to the back where the boxes and bags of sandwiches are. You grab the bag that had your sandwich in and split it in half.

“What is in it?” He asks inspecting his half and the fillings inside.

“I think it’s supposed to be like a Fajita ciabatta? So it’s got like chicken, peppers, salsa and all that healthy stuff, Yano?” You say looking happily at your sandwich and you lean back into your seat starting to enjoy your lunch.

“Why are you being so nice?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, a look of curiosity and suspicion on his face, his thick brows almost furrowed.

“Aren’t you used to people being nice?” You laugh, wiping your mouth just incase there was so sauce there as you turned to face him in shock.

“Look, I’m a mechanic. It would have played on my mind all day if I didn’t stop and help. And besides I don’t think I’ve ever had a car THIS nice in my shop” you grin and he nods with a small polite smile on his face.

“You like?” You ask and his head shoots up to look at you in shock.

“Excuse me?!” He gasps out looking at you.

“The sandwich do you like it?” You ask again this time a little bit more direct with what you were asking whether he liked or not.

“Oh yeah, it’s very nice. Thank you for sharing” he nods taking another bite of his half of your sandwich.

“Anytime, and besides I got spares too, so I can have my filling later if half doesn’t turn out to be enough. So if you don’t mind me asking, where were you going in such a rush? And don’t lie to me, you were 100% driving that car like a manic for the cooling to already be knackered” you admit looking over to him when it’s safe to do so.

“Erm, work? A meeting with my boss” he sighs knowing he definitely has missed that meeting now.

“Oh, is that the er friend that was on the phone with you earlier?” You ask cocking your head to the side as your turn down a side road, coming onto a busier street.

“Oh no, that was my … helper while I’m here in the UK” he admits and for the first time you hadn’t even considered that he didn’t fully know where he was going as this country might not be familiar to him.

“And where possibly could you be heading to work between Buckingham and Towcester” you laugh, meaning it as a joke not expecting his to divulge his whole life to you.

“Ah just my bosses place, he’s very personal” he nods knowing he didn’t want to tell this very attractive woman who he really was.

“Okay here we are” you say pulling into the garage, reversing in so it’s easier for the boys to get the car in.

“Whose this?” Fred, one of the mechanics who you worked with asks looking at Sergio who’d just jumped out of the truck.

“Ahhh just some stray, get his car in. He’s got a cooling problem and a boss to try get too on time” you smirk as your fellow colleagues help get the car off the truck.

“Dude this is a nice car. Who do you work for to afford a car like this” someone whistles as it’s rolled down and into your section of the garage.

“And how have you knackered the cooling already?” Another chips in looking at what you were writing in your pad.

Sergio watches as you get to work on his car, it was a very attractive sight and he never knew seeing a woman work and get her hands dirty would be such a turn on for him.

In about 30 minutes you’ve fixed what you found to be the issue and offer him an oil change as to you it didn’t look like it had been done for years and knowing Christian and his cars it probably hadn’t.

“All done, your good to make your way to you boss” you say swinging a spanner round your finger before catching it in your hand as you walk over to him.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks starting to dive into his pocket for money.

“Ahh consider this on the house” you smile and he again looks so shocked with how nice you are being to him.

“No, I refuse” handing you over £500 which is seriously over the asking price for the job, and it shows when your mouth falls open like a goldfish.

“I can’t - I can’t accept this” you say trying to get him to take it back. But of course he won’t budge.

“And my number too? If you, you know want it?” He asks shyly and you pretend to think for a second before switching details with him.

“I’ll text you later then, drive safely yeah?” You ask and all he does it nod before leaving and driving away.

And audible sigh comes from you, until your phone pings with a voice note from none other than mystery break down guy. Whose saved his name as Sergio in your phone.

Dinner me and you, tonight 6pm?

And you were smiling and grinning like an idiot for the rest of the day.

y/user

Liked by schecoperez, y/l/n’smechanics and others

y/user: Met a guy who broke down on the road today, shared my sandwich with him and drove him to the garage.

View all comments

schecoperez: thank you for … everything

user1: babe why is an F1 driver in your comments?

-> y/user: EXCUSE ME?

y/user: Sergio? You have some explaining to do!

-> schecoperez: Erm oops? 🫣🤙🏼

-> y/user: oops? You cannot just say that to this kind of revelation 😳

y/user: I feel stupid 😭

user2: its hilarious that you just towed a random man AND shared your food, you never anything

user3: no way Checo broke down and this sweet girl helped him.

Instagram Story Caption:

Met this man today. His car broke down 😳

Taglist:

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orchidniins · 7 months ago

Text

Forehead Kisses | Arthur Frederick

Summary: Arthur being the biggest green flag and taking care of his sick partner. Pairing: Arthur TV x gn!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word count: 1.3k+ A/N: Short one to start the week. I have a ton of requests that I'm currently working on at the moment (honestly I'm a lot slower at writing than I thought) and I'm hoping to get out 2 longer fics next week (if work doesn't keep me busy that is) 🤞 Thanks anon for the request! Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As you step into your apartment, the door creaks softly behind you. You clutch your forehead, rubbing your temples in an attempt to ease your pounding migraine. Each step you take only worsens your body pains, leaving you feeling as though you've been hit by a truck. You shed your jacket and kick off your shoes, your body craves rest, wanting nothing more than to just curl up in bed. However, thoughts of the work you still have to complete nag at you, not wanting anything to pile up for the rest of the week.

Tossing your keys onto the table, the loud clatter disrupts the quietness of the room and you mentally curse yourself. You try to move as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Arthur, who had mentioned his plans to live stream for a few hours today. And despite your best efforts, an uncontrollable fit of coughing wracks your body, sending a sharp pain shooting up to your head again. You groan out in pain, unable to ignore the discomfort.

Arthur was in his office in the midst of a live stream, chatting away with his viewers when he heard you from the living room. Pausing the game he was playing, he swiftly excuses himself from the stream, taking off his headset and exits the room.

You glance towards his office, the soft click of his door catching your attention. Upon spotting your red nose and sunken eyes, he doesn't hesitate for a moment, swiftly hurrying to your side. "Hey, darling, are you okay?" His voice is laced with genuine concern as he assesses your condition.

"I just had a bit of a headache, so my boss sent me home early," you shrug as you explain, trying to downplay the situation. "It's probably nothing, maybe just because it's cold and windy outside—" Your sentence is cut short by cough, prompting Arthur's concerned gaze. "Why didn't you tell me before you left for work?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. "How long have you been feeling like this?", his hands come to rest on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

"You see, this is why," you remark, sounding slightly exasperated. "Weren’t you going to stream today?" Arthur immediately responds, "Don't worry about that, darling," he assures you, still just as worried.

"I'm fine, babe," you quickly reassure him, not wanting to worry him any further, knowing he'll drop everything to take care of you. "I'm feeling better now that I'm home. I'm actually gonna get some work done." But before you can continue, Arthur shakes his head adamantly. "No work, absolutely not. You need to rest," he insists firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he gently guides you towards the bedroom.

“But…I don’t want stuff to pile up”, you attempt to protest. But Arthur remains resolute, his gaze soft as he looks at you caringly. "There are others who can handle your work for now," he insists gently. "Right now, you need rest, medicine, and some tea."

You look back at him with a small pout, hoping to sway him, "Off to bed you go," he says, as you two step into the bedroom.

"But Arthur," you begin, whining, but he cuts you off with a pointed look. "No, Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look.

Finally, you concede, a sigh escaping your lips. "Fine, I'll sleep for an hour, but promise me you'll wake me up so I can finish up work." Arthur simply nods, accepting the small victory.

After changing out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable, you sit down on the bed "Just stay put, I'll get you the medicine," he says, but you attempt to get up from bed, insisting, "No, no, it's fine, Arthur, I'll get it myself." However, he gently pushes you back down. "No, I've got it,"

"But what about your stream?" you worry, but Arthur dismisses your concern with a laugh. "Just sleep, darling," he urges before leaving momentarily to fetch the medicine. Returning with water and the medicine, he hands them to you. "Here, take it," he instructs, watching as you comply before he helps you settle into bed.

"Do you need more pillows or a blanket?" Arthur asks, but you quickly decline, insisting that you're fine. "You just get back to your stream. Don't leave your viewers staring at an empty chair," you joke weakly. Arthur chuckles, "You just worry about getting better," before you interject, "It’s literally nothing, Arthur. I’ll be fine after a small nap. Just make sure you wake me up in an hour okay?" He responds with a sarcastic chuckle, “Yeah sure darling”, and you soon start to feel yourself getting drowsy. He brushes the hair out of your face, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before quietly leaving the room.

Ignoring your request, Arthur allows you to sleep for as long as you need to, making sure to check up on you every 15 minutes or so. If he hears even a peep from the bedroom, he excuses himself from his stream to ensure you're okay or to make sure you've taken your medicine, sitting beside you until you drift back to sleep.

After another 30 minutes or so, Arthur decides to end his stream early, apologizing to his viewers before quietly slipping back into the bedroom to check on you. He walks up to you and sits beside your sleeping form, noticing a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead. Gently grabbing a towel, he wipes it, causing you to slowly wake up. "Sorry, sorry, go back to sleep," he quickly apologizes, feeling slightly guilty for waking you. However, you decide to sit up in bed, “No it’s fine,” you say, giving him a small smile.

He smiles softly and leans in to kiss you on the forehead, gently rubbing the sleep marks on your face. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better," you reply with a slight smile. "My head doesn’t hurt as much." Leaning to grab a tissue, you blow your nose before asking, "What time is it?"

"It's around 7 pm," Arthur responds gently. "You've been asleep for about 3 hours."

"You told me you’d wake me up," you start to say, your tone slightly whining.

"Yeah, but you are really sick," Arthur interjects gently. "You don't need more work, you need to rest."

"But—", you begin to speak, but then you cough, a sharp pain shooting to your head. You look at him sheepishly as you groan, finally accepting, "Yeah, fine. I’m sick."

Arthur nods understandingly as he laughs at your admission. "I'll be right back, let me get you some tea," he says, getting up before quietly leaving the room.

He comes back after a few minutes, finding you sitting with your eyes closed, leaning against the headboard. As he walks in with the tea and more medicine, setting them down on the nightstand, he sits on the bed next to you, causing the mattress to dip slightly and the movement wakes you up.

"Hey, I’ve got your tea," he says softly, offering you the cup. "It'll help with your throat."

You pick it up and take a sip, feeling the warmth trickle down your throat, soothing the ache.

You look at him with a small smile, "Thank you, baby."

Arthur smiles warmly, replying, "Anything for you, love. You know I always wanna take care of you."

"I love you," you say softly, placing your palm on his hand that was resting on the mattress.

"I love you too, more than anything," Arthur responds, his eyes filled with affection.

His hand comes up to gently rub your cheek. As he leans in for a kiss on the lips, your hand comes up to cover his mouth, saying, "No, you'll get sick too. And then I’ll have to take care of you, and you’re the clingy type when you’re sick."

He feigns hurt for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Okay, okay, forehead kisses only," he agrees, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, eliciting a smile from you as he leans and places a kiss on your forehead.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

#arthurtv #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv fics #arthurtv imagine #arthurtv fluff #arthur frederick #arthur frederick x reader #arthur frederick fics #arthur frederick imagine #arthur frederick fluff #fluff #chaos crew #youtube #sick girlfriend #sick boyfriend

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ifiguredyoudloveme · 2 months ago

Text

Book Boy

timothée chalamet x female!reader

summary: ever since timothée saw you at the store, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. once he finally sees you again walking down the street, he can't help but ask for your number.

warnings/tags: 18+, nsfw, sub!timmy, dom!reader, bondage, p in v, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, cum makeout (?), dirty talk, use of the word mommy

words: 3,198

a/n: i haven't posted in so long but timmy's look as marty sparked some very ungodly thoughts and i just had to write something. (this is far longer than i intended it to be.)

Timothée wanders into his favourite book store one rainy afternoon, searching for something romantic, and well...sexual. He feels like he's being spied on as he skims through the romance section, looking behind his shoulder as if anyone knows, or cares, what he's searching for.

Upon walking in he was greeted by the store owner – an older, chubby man with a large, grey moustache – and asked whether he needs help finding anything, to which Timothée replied, “Just browsing, thank you,” in a tone far higher pitched than he was going for.

He pulls out a book from the shelf and flips it around, skimming through the blurb on the back. His eyes widen, and he quickly hides it in his jacket. He nearly jumps out of his skin when a girl speaks over his shoulder.

“I've read that one,” she says in a friendly, innocent tone. “Oh, shit. Didn't mean to scare you,” she giggles.

Timothée turns around to face her, the book still hidden in his jacket. “What one?” He asks stupidly.

She giggles again, pointing at his jacket. “The book hidden in your jacket..?” She crosses her arms. “You're not planning on stealing that, are you?”

“Oh, this?” He says, pulling the book out. “Of course not.”

“Good,” she smiles, and turns her attention back to the shelves.

Timothée stands next to her awkwardly for a moment, swaying back and forth on his feet.

“Is it good?” He asks, voice cracking. He fakes a cough into the back of his hand.

She turns back to face him, her eyes looking into his with a glint of something he can't quite place. “I guess it depends what you're into.”

Timothée gulps. “Okay. I'll– I'll get it,” he croaks, before turning and walking back towards the front of the store. He places the book in front of the kind man and he gives Timothée a knowing smile before placing the book into a brown bag. He quickly hands the man some cash and rushes out of the store.

That night, Timothée lays on his bed, stomach down, and reads the book. The first page alone is a sex scene, and he's already humping his mattress. He can't help but imagine the woman in the story is the woman he saw in the bookstore and the man is himself.

The man gripped her breast lightly, so as not to hurt her, and teased at her soft clit with the tip of his tongue.

He imagines her reading this and his hips speed up.

She arched her back from the bed, the warmth from his mouth too much to bear. But only when his finger slid inside of her did her breathing halt and her body convulse, the eruption of orgasm flowing through her and out of her as a moan.

He cums, shaking, his face buried in the pages, the scent of aged paper filling his senses. He wonders if this is the exact copy she borrowed.

Out of it, he throws the book at the wall. The book itself is unarousing, he realises. Far too formal. He'll return it tomorrow.

Later, after cleaning himself up, he walks outside on the balcony of his apartment and lights a cigarette. Leaning on the railing, he watches the bustling street below, still erupting with life despite midnight.

That's when he sees her – in the same outfit, only with a jacket this time, wandering on the other side of the street. He immediately opens his mouth to call out for her but realises he doesn't even know her name.

So, he bolts inside, grabs his own jacket, and rushes out the door, making his way down the windy stairs and finally, into the night. He looks around frantically before spotting her again, turning right at the end of the street. He runs.

Once he's in front of her, walking backwards, he can hardly catch his breath. She looks at him with that same adorable smile.

“Book boy,” she says, pointing at him.

“Yep,” he responds, adjusting his glasses. “I saw you from my apartment and I—”

“Did you read the book?” She interrupts, that same glint in her eyes again.

Timothée gulps. “Uh, yeah. A little.”

She teases her bottom lip with her tongue, then stops walking. They stand still for a moment, facing each other, before she takes a step forward. She's so close to him he can feel her soft breaths against his face.

“Were you thinking about me when you did?”

Timothée's jaw goes slack. He can only nod. She smiles, then steps back. She fiddles through her purse for a pen, the takes Timothée's hand in hers and scribbles her number onto his palm, and under it, her name.

Then, she walks off into the night.

Timothée reaches out, goes to call her name, but decides against it. He turns, smiles, and walks back to his apartment.

In the morning, after writing her number and name from his palm onto a sticky note then drifting off to sleep, he immediately calls her number.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, naked, chewing at his fingernails, he waits for her voice. The call connects after three rings and he almost drops his phone in nervousness.

“Hello?” she says politely.

“Uh, y/n? It’s me…” he’s about to say his name but realises she doesn’t know it, “...book boy.”

“Oh!” she exclaims. “You called.”

“Of course.” He stands and starts to pace around his room, a smile growing on his face. “I was, uh– I was wondering if you’d like to meet for coffee today. At noon.”

“That would be lovely,” she agrees. “I’ll come over to yours.”

“Oh, but I—”

“Shh,” she giggles. “I know where you live – don’t think I didn’t see you on your balcony.”

Timothée clears his throat. “Alright, that…that sounds good. I'm in number 106. However my apartment is quite small and in a mess—”

“So is mine,” she says.

“Okay, good,” he replies, cringing at his response. “So…noon?”

“I'll be there. Bye!”

The call ends and Timothée lets out a deep breath he didn't realise he was holding. He checks the clock on the wall. Eleven a.m., it reads. His heart jumps; he hadn't realised he'd woken up so late.

He rushes into the bathroom and runs the shower before grabbing his toothbrush and squeezing a generous amount of toothpaste onto it. He scrubs his teeth and hops into the shower, the warm water temporarily calming his nerves.

Leaning his head back, the water wets his hair and he scrubs a thick lather of shampoo into it. He smiles as he imagines his hands are hers, massaging his scalp, and he almost starts purring like a cat. He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose, embarrassed by himself, and takes his hands off his head in shame.

Once he's done, he dries his hair vigorously with a towel before sprinting into his closet and fetching his nicest suit. He pulls on his clothes and nearly trips while putting his pants on, then rushes into the bathroom to do something about his hair. It looks ridiculous, all spiked and wet, so he picks up a comb and combs it into a somewhat presentable style.

He places his hands on his hips and stares at himself in the mirror loathingly. The doorbell rings, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Breathing deeply, he steps out of the bathroom and walks to the front door. He lifts his hand to the handle, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

All his nerves go away the moment he sees her, and all he can think about is how beautiful she looks. Her hair is tucked behind her ears with white hair clips, and she wears a beautiful silk light blue dress paired with white gloves and white heels.

“Wow,” is all Timothée can say, and y/n grins widely.

He moves out of the way for her and she steps inside, her heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. She looks around the place as he closes the door.

“It's lovely,” she says. “I expected piles of trash and inches of dust but this…” she runs her hand along his red sofa, “...is gorgeous.”

Timothée scratches his cheek. “Well, thank you, I– it's home,” he smiles. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” she says, sitting on the couch and crossing her legs. “I have three sugars with mine, if that’s alright. I have a sweet tooth.”

Timothée nods as he brews the espresso. “So do I,” he says flirtatiously. He has no idea where his sudden confidence has come from. Catching on, she blushes.

After he's made their coffee, he places them on the coffee table and sits beside her. Being so close to her zaps most of his confidence away, and he falls shy again.

She picks up the mug and takes a sip, moaning at the flavour. Timothée gulps. “This is great, thank you,” she smiles, before leaning over and planting a kiss on his cheek. He nearly has a heart attack.

“Are you going to drink yours?”

“No, I don't– I don't like coffee.”

She gives him a funny look and laughs. “So why'd you make yourself one?”

“I'm not sure,” he replies honestly, shrugging his shoulders. She laughs harder, and he laughs along with her.

Once they stop laughing, she places her coffee down and leans back, facing her body towards him.

“I like your glasses,” she says.

Timothée feels insecure at this. He's only ever been made fun of for them.

“Really? You'd be the first,” he says self-deprecatingly.

“What do you mean?” she asks genuinely. She reaches out and places her hand on the side of his face, lightly swiping her thumb under the thin metal. “They're very attractive.”

He bites his lip and looks at his lap. “You think so?”

“I do,” she replies sweetly, leaning back again.

She observes him once again. He feels exposed, as if she knows all of his secrets, as if she can read his mind. If she could, she'd know how desperately he wants to reach over and kiss her, run his hand over her smooth thighs…

…his cock begins to harden.

“You're drooling,” she says.

He chokes on his own spit and coughs into his arm. “Pardon?”

Laughing, she leans her elbow utop the back of the couch and rests her head in the palm of her hand. “You're not very good at hiding it, you know. You wear what you're thinking in your eyes.”

“Do I?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Mhm,” she hums with a nod, picking up her mug. She looks into his eyes as she takes a slow sip, then places it down again.

Picking up his own mug, he attempts to repeat her actions but gags the second the lukewarm dirtmilk – as he calls it – hits his tongue. He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose, placing the mug back down. She laughs again, her hand gripping his shoulder.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a moment while she finishes her drink. Timothée can't help but look at her – her gorgeous face, the way the silk of her dress hugs her body, her smooth legs – and undress her with his eyes. He thinks back to the book that now lays on the floor of his bedroom and how, just last night, he was breathing into it in orgasm, thinking of her.

She places her mug down, empty, and as if on queue, says: “Where’s that book?”

Timothée shakes his head, stumbling out of his explicit thoughts. “Hm?”

“The book you bought yesterday. Where is it?”

“Oh, I– shall I get it?”

She nods, so he stands, striding to his room. He retrieves the book from the ground and inspects the mark that throwing it had left on the wall, before returning to the living room.

He hands the book to her quickly, shyly, and sits back down. He watches her as she pulls off her gloves and flips to a very specific page, twenty-three, and hands the book back to him.

Taking it from her curiously, his eyes meet the page and his heart immediately beats at a faster pace. He looks at her with wide eyes. She only smiles, innocent.

“Read it,” she whispers.

So he does.

“‘The woman—” he croaks. “‘The woman sunk down onto his cock. The tight– The tight soft walls of her cunt encased him wholly and he tried, through the ropes tight around his wrists, to reach out and touch. Muffled moans through the gag in his mouth signified something he had tried so desperately to shove away; that he was hers, but she was not his. Lust given into to the shame of God. A forbidden love. The—’”

Timothée's breathing quickens as she crawls over and straddles him, her soft lips against the side of his neck. He holds the book in his right hand and wraps his other around her waist, not taking his eyes off the page.

��‘The bondage rubbed against his skin painfully and he hoped that it left permanent marking, a reminder of this night, forever. Fuck God, he thought. What a horrible thing to think. He should be slapped. Smack! Her hand against his cheek as if she'd read his mind. What a rewarding thing to think.’”

Her lips connect to his and he drops the book. His eyes close. He drinks her in, his hands running up the back of her thighs, her ass, her back, pulling her dress up as he goes. Their lips part for only a moment as he pulls her dress over her head and onto the floor, then their tongues find each other again. She pulls off his jacket and unbuttons his dress shirt, discarding them somewhere.

Before his hands can touch her skin again, she grabs onto his wrists and pins them over his head. She smiles against his mouth then pulls away, her hand falling from his wrists to his belt. Timothée makes sure he doesn't move his arms. She frees the belt and crawls off of his lap then instructs him to face away from her with his hands behind his back. He does so without a second thought, as if by nature.

After tying the belt around his wrists securely she asks him to sit back down, and of course, he does so immediately. It's as if he's in a trance, willing to do anything and everything for a woman he only just met. She could demand he lick the ground that she walks on and he would, happily, oblige.

As she gets on her knees in front of him and begins unbuttoning his pants, he stares at her like an obedient puppy, waiting for a treat. She grips the waistband and pulls them down. In his hurry, he'd forgotten to put any underwear on – she grins up at him, delighted.

A shuddery breath escapes his lungs and his fingers flex in their restraints as she grips the base of his cock and licks at the head, lapping up his sticky wetness. He's fully hard – painfully hard – and the tip of his cock is a deep reddish purple.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groans as she, without warning, swallows him down to the hilt. He leans his head back and his back arches and he wants, desperately, to free his hands and run them through her pretty hair. His forehead, neck, and chest are already glistening with sweat, his abs flexing and rippling as his tip repeatedly hits the back of her warm, wet throat.

The sounds of spit and soft gagging fill the room and he has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from cumming. Spit dribbles down and coats his balls, pooling under them. He gets close, too close, and impulsively places his foot on her shoulder to nudge her away. She falls softly on her ass and his cock springs free with a pop, slapping lewdly against his stomach.

His muscles relax, and he feels like he can breathe again.

“Was it too much?” she asks, crawling onto the couch beside him, snuggling into his shoulder.

“‘m sorry, y/n,” he says quietly. He almost called her mommy. “I was so close.”

His brain feels mushy. He doesn't know what it is, but he likes it.

She connects her soft lips to his and wraps her hand lightly around his cock, stroking it up and down rhythmically. Their tongues dance together and Timothée moans in both arousal and contentment.

“Are you ready to feel my pussy, baby?” she asks after pulling away from his lips and standing, towering over him. He can only nod, unable to speak.

She reaches behind her back and unhooks her white lace bra, dropping it onto the floor. Her tits are perfect and plush and a line of spit trickles down Timothée's chin. He's actually drooling.

Then, she hooks her thumbs through the waistband of her panties – white and lacey like her bra – and pulls them down, stepping out of them. He stares at her pussy that's covered in a neat blanket of hair and whines, a somehow deeper hunger erupting through him.

“You like what you see?” she asks, smiling, and he nods quickly.

Straddling him again, she grabs his face and kisses him deeply. His cock throbs pathetically between them and she grabs it, sliding his length between the lips of her wet pussy.

He struggles in his restraints. “Please, I need—”

“You need what?”

“Need to feel you, please—”

With that, she sinks down onto his cock, his length filling her up like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he bucks his hips upward without meaning to, letting out a desperate, guttural groan.

She rides him, her hands in his hair and her head thrown back in pleasure, the speed of her hips increasing by the second.

She leans down and kisses his lips repeatedly. “You're so fucking big, baby. So fucking big. Gonna make me cum. Gonna make mommy cum.”

The way she called herself mommy almost makes Timothée faint. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat and he doubts he can hold on for any longer, his orgasm being drawn closer and closer as her warmth tightens around him. He can almost see stars.

“Fuck, fuck! I'm cumming, I'm–”

She quickly climbs off of him and ends up on her knees again, jerking him off, his tip on her tongue. His vision goes black, his entire body tenses, and he releases, coating her tongue in sticky white mess.

Once he finishes, and before he knows what's happening, she connects their lips, swirling her tongue around his. His own tongue is now covered in his cum as they make out, exchanging a concoction of spit and release.

Their lips disconnect after a moment and she collapses onto his shoulder, their chests rising and falling. His own cum is dripping down his chin. He swallows.

“A forbidden love,” she whispers.

It's only one in the afternoon, and she doesn't even know his name.

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x you #timothée chalamet smut #timothée chalamet imagine #marty supreme

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throneofsmut · 3 months ago

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Bleeding Love

Poly!Feysand x Reader || WC: 2k || Warnings: Injury & Smut

Summary: Reader comes back from a mission with Azriel and got hurt and Feyre and Rhys find them and take care of them. Based off this req.

****

Azriel and you stumble as you winnow the both of you onto the street in front of the House of Wind. His chest rising and falling as he pants. Yours doing the same.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to fly you up?” He asks breathily.

Shaking your head, moving to lean against the bottom of the building. So exhausted that you were fighting not to slump down against it.

Opening your eyes when you hear leathers that weren’t yours rustling—he was leaning against the House of Wind now too. “Yeah,” you answer. “I can make it. Can you?”

He glances at you, bloody and bruised too. “My shadows can.” His shadows not his wings meaning he was too exhausted to fly.

“All right.”

“Sure you don’t want to come with me to see Madja?”

“Nah, it looks worse than it actually is,” you breathe, pressing your hand against your side. You’d healed your broken ribs, but were too drained to actually close the wound itself.

Azriel had a hand pressed against his own side and then let out a pained wheeze, “All right.”

A moment passed before both of you rose to your full heights—slightly swaying—and nodded to each other.

Then Az’s shadows swallowed him up and you winnowed.

It wasn’t possible to winnow into the House of Wind, but you could winnow onto it. . . sort of.

You winnowed ten feet above one of the balconies—the one that leads to your old room—and dropped, landing ungracefully onto it.

You’d meant to land on your feet. But, as soon as your feet touched the ground, your body gave out and you fell to your knees and then collapsed onto your side.

Pained groans slipping through your lips as you lay there on the ground, clutching your side, feeling something warm coating your fingers.

Looking down to find your hand covered in blood and beneath you on the floor of the balcony it was pooling swiftly. “Fuck,” you sigh under your breath. Followed by a wet wheezy cough that made you clutch your side tighter.

Your eyes closing as you continue to lay there trying to get the motivation to move. The steady drip of your blood and your heavy breaths echoing into your ears. Along with the voices of the people of Velaris on the streets below.

It could’ve been minutes or hours when you finally grit your teeth and roll over on your knees, a hiss escaping from you as you stand. Stumbling to the french doors of the balcony leading into your room.

Staggering in before leaning on the nearest wall to catch your breath and take in your surroundings. “Cauldron boil me,” you grumble when you see that you're actually in the dining room.

Blowing out a sharp breath, you push off the wall and make your way to your old room—the one before you started sharing one with Feyre and Rhys—stumbling and cursing the whole way. The walls being your only support.

You hope they’re not home right now. The townhouse is being renovated and they just started building the family home so Feyre, Rhys and you were currently staying in the House of Wind.

When you got close to your door, the house opened the door for you, letting you in, “Thank you,” you said to the house. And then the house lit, the fireplace and the door to your bathroom opened too. “Thank you, Windy,” you repeat again, this time using the nickname you gave to the sentient House of Wind.

Stumbling all the way in until you made it to the en-suite bathroom and held yourself up with one hand on the counter, the other still clutching your side. “Mother save me,” you sighed with your eyes closed.

Then you heard the soft clatter of a chair landing on the floor behind you and without opening your eyes you sat down. “Oh, how I love you, Windy,” you murmur affectionately.

Finally you open your eyes and take in your appearance in the mirror above the sink, “Gods, I look terrible.” Your left brow is cut and so is your bottom lip. Bruises are beginning to bloom on the right side of your jaw and your left eye. You’ll have a black eye for sure in a couple hours, even if you apply a healing balm.

And your knuckles are all cut up and bruised. Your legs are probably bruised up too and not to mention that your ribs are tender even though they’re not broken anymore. But, you do still have a large cut on them. “Fuck, I’m definitely gonna need stitches,” you say as you assess your side.

You clutch a hand to your wound again and with the other start to rifle through the cabinets in front of you under the sink.

Cursing under your breath when you can’t find the antiseptic you usually keep stored there. “Windy, have you seen—“ the House cuts you off by placing a bottle of rubbing alcohol on the counter in front of you. “Thank you, Windy.”

Dropping your hand from your side, you grit your teeth and inhale sharply. When you exhale you pull off the top of your fighting leathers in one quick motion. Your undershirt with it, leaving you in only your bra.

Before you lose your courage you unscrew the top of the rubbing alcohol and pour it directly over your side. A soundless scream ripping from your throat at the feeling. You don’t waste another second before threading the needle in your first aid kit and begin stitching yourself up.

Tying off the final stitch when you hear two sets of footfalls approaching.

The door to your bedroom swings open moments later, the door to your bathroom following soon after, two pairs of wide eyes pinned on you. One violet and one blue-gray.

Feyre and Rhys.

You give them a lazy grin, “Hello, my loves,” you say to both of them. And without missing a beat you pick up the bottle of alcohol again and pour it over your freshly sown stitches. Turning your face away from them, “Fucking hell,” you grit out through clenched teeth.

Feyre comes to stand by your side and brushes your hair away from your face, “You’re hurt.”

“I’m all right,” you reassure her, closing your eyes and leaning into her touch.

“You’re bleeding,” Rhys says from your other side. His voice deathly soft. His power filling the room.

You cut a glance to him, giving him a soft smile, “Relax, love.” Your voice is a gentle—soothing—command.

“How the fuck am I supposed to relax when. . . when your bleeding?”

“Because they’ll never hurt me or anyone else ever again.”

He visibly relaxes and places a kiss atop your head. But, then Feyre asks, “Are you sure?” Her voice sounds strained as if she’s holding back. And even though she hasn’t stopped brushing your hair back with her hand, her other, is curled into a fist.

“Yes, darling. Az and I made sure before we left,” you swear.

“Good.”

Without another word you get up and make your way to the shower and peel off your fighting leather. Slowly. Teasingly.

Feyre and Rhys remain by the sink as you continue to strip, then turn on the water, and finally wash yourself clean. Their eyes flick between yours and your body as the water and soap cover every inch of you.

Violet and blue-gray eyes that were once darkened by violence were now darkened by something else entirely.

Finally rinsing off the last of the soap, you dry yourself off and drop your towel on the floor, before making your way to your bed.

Half way into the room you stop, looking at Feyre and Rhys over your shoulder and that’s all they need before they follow.

You lay in the middle of the massive bed, holding yourself up with your elbows as the High Lady and High Lord of the Night Court make quick work of ridding themselves of their clothes. They all but ripped them clean off their bodies.

Rhys was already at attention when he started pumping himself in his large hand a couple times.

And Feyre’s tits were already tipped in hardened peaks. Her arousal made her cunt glisten in the firelight.

A bead of precum seeped from the head of Rhys’s cock and your tongue swiped out wanting to taste it, but before you could Rhys’s thumb swiped over it. Making you lick your lips instead.

His violet eyes gleamed as he continued to stroke himself, his thumb swiping over the head again, “Do you really think you deserve a taste, sweetheart?” He coos mockingly,

You opened your mouth to answer him, but Feyre beat you to it. The obscene noise of her playing with herself filled the room. One hand played with her tit while the other rubbed her swollen clit.

All of you letting out moans as you rubbed your thighs frustratingly together and they continued playing with themselves.

Feyre’s the first to speak, pinching and rolling her nipple between her fingers. She glances at Rhys, “I think our girl needs to rest. Then her gaze settles back on you. “Don’t you baby?”

Fine, if they want to play. You’ll play.

You scoot farther back on the bed so you’re leaning against the plush pillows. Then slowly spread your legs apart, thighs bent, baring yourself to them. Earning lewd groans from them.

Smirking at them in response, but you don’t stop there.

Sticking two fingers in your mouth, your tongue swirling around them, and then moments later lowering your hand. Running those same two fingers through your folds, now glistening with your arousal as you draw tight circles over your clit.

Throwing your head back in pleasure as a soft moan escapes your mouth and fills the air. Then you bring your freehand up to pinch your nipples and play with your tits. Eyes screwing shut as you get closer to falling over the edge.

“Oh, fuuuck,” you choke out in between gasping breaths. The fire pooling in your lower belly begins to spread to the rest of your body. You know you won’t last much longer, but then you're suddenly getting flipped over.

The only warning you get is Rhys’s wicked smirk before he splits you open, burying himself in your cunt in one quick thrust.

Feyre’s hands cup your face as she swallows your scream, kissing you hungrily, her hips settling over Rhys’s face.

His hands settle over your hips in a bruising grip as he sets a brutal—punishing pace. Another scream works its way up your throat, at the feel of the head of his cock hitting your sweat spot at this angle.

What, sweetheart? He purrs into your mind, mockingly innocent. Did you really think you could cum without us, hmm?

Fuck you. Even your mental voice sounds like a moan.

He chuckles darkly, You already are, sweetheart.

Feyre swallows your scream again before it can ever pierce the air, before pulling back. Her fingers dig into the soft skin of her thighs as they shake. No doubt from the assault of Rhys’s tongue on her sensitive clit.

Her teeth bite into her plush bottom lip as she writhes over his face. Then her head falls back and you know she’s going to scream. So before she can, you wrap a hand around her throat, pulling her towards you.

Swallowing her scream as you claim her lips in a bruising kiss.

Your fingers tighten around her throat as you lean forward just the slightest bit and with your freehand pinch and tug her at her nipples. Earning whimpers from her.

Then you drop your hand that’s on her tits and settle it on her ass. Slapping it a couple times—just like you know she likes it—and finally grabbing a handful of it.

Gods, she cries out mind to mind. Fuck, baby!

Rhys whimpers in your mind and then you feel it. His cock twitching inside you.

Your walls spasming and contracting in response, making him grip your hips tighter as he continues to fuck you both over the edge, while working Feyre over the edge with his tongue.

Not even a full minute later, with one last powerful thrust he spills himself inside you. His cock pulsing as your walls flutter around it. Milking him as you fall over the edge with him.

Rhys groans against Feyre’s clit as he comes and it’s the final push Feyre needs to fall over the edge with Rhys and you.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #feysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand smut #rhysand fanfic #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand smut #feysand x reader #feysand x fanfic #feysand x you #feysand x y/n

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blingblong55 · 4 months ago

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The end is here...right?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

photo credit @ave661 middle pic Not edited at all!! ---- F!Reader, angst? idk, cheating ---- A/N: honestly, don't even ask me what this is, I felt the need to write this very late at night...so I'm sorry

"I love you." Oh, what a miserable way to begin the end of this love story. How did it end? How did his smiles, kisses and most importantly those eyes that shined when they looked at you end? Why must love be this evil? Soon, after this funeral you and he will walk away and be strangers once more.

One more glance, maybe one that explains why he fell out of love. Maybe it is a hopeful word for a fool like you. If only love was a joke, at least one you understood but it isn't and now you're dying in a room whilst the walls scream at your foolish heart. Can you pretend he never existed? Can you call him and have him there as he holds your lifeless heart? This book that you made wasn't one for the weak. This book was made for those who needed a reminder that they needed to leave. Was it toxic to have him love you that much and then rip it away from you just before you told him the dreams you wanted to have with him? Was it evil that you had already planned a life with him? or was it vile to have you this in love with the idea of a man who couldn't love you like you wanted?

There will be a day when he fades but today isn't that day for he tattooed his name on your heart for the next millennia to see…to whisper about when they hear the chapel weep for a love that it never got to seal. Oh, what a cruel man must Simon but to have you in bed, to kiss your body like there was no other woman for him. Wise men do say death is best when it isn't by the hand of the lover. If only he warned you about him.

His smile will forever be engraved in you just like his lips will be left with scars that once were butterflies on you. "I'm not a good man, love," he once told you and oh what a fool were you when you didn't listen. Did the weeping willow tree not warn you? "You're in terrible danger." it once said but you brushed it off.

His things are still there, his jacket on the chair like the night he came home and hugged you. Did you know it'd end with you waiting for him to come home again? He was here to destroy you and what a job he did.

Maybe someday, in an alternate universe, he hadn't left you for her. Maybe he would have stayed and completed the dreams you once had. And just perhaps you'd be religious to thank whatever is out there for him.

Tonight you curse whatever is out there.

He was never to keep, maybe he should told you that.

Does he love her like he did you? Maybe he kisses her shoulder but does he move the furniture so he can dance with her in the middle of a drunken midnight? Midnight…hm..what a time to be dead and buried with his memories on your headstone.

He was yours.

He was meant to be yours.

Will you one day confess you left the front porch light on in case he needed a guide back home?

"Forgive me, I have sinned. I committed murder, not literal murder but of my own heart," you whisper to the altar you never got to say your vows to. And maybe she'll hear his vows but you swear yours are sweeter than hers.

As the midnight falls, you aimlessly walk to the haunted chapel. The rain pours as you look at the windy sky. You sigh and maybe that should've been your last one for what is life if not with him.

You don't need much, just need him. Maybe you can sacrifice anything…for the love of all hell… sacrifice anything to get him back.

As you sit on the stairs of the chapel, you look dishevelled. There is a ring on your hand. The one he gave you one Christmas when you mentioned you liked the design of one. What a cruel idea that must've been. Your thumb runs over the designs and tears cascade down your face but it's oh so beautifully covered by the rain. "I love you, Simon. I…I fucking love you and it's killing me." you say before you break down in sobs. There's this feeling, the feeling when you cry too much your chest begs you to stop, where your head aches and your face begs to stop this pain.

You hold onto yourself, maybe this way you'll heal some of the love he took with him but it won't until you have him there.

Is it idiotic to want him back? Yes, but damn does it feel good to want him. So what if he broke your heart? Maybe no one understands this feeling. Maybe the poets were right.

You must let him go, it is killing this aching and weak heart of yours.

You do just that. The ring is left on the steps of the chapel and walk away. What an awful way to mourn the loss of his love. The rain will cover your tracks and maybe you can disappear for a little while.

Once you disappear, there is a shadow man who also mindlessly walks to the steps of the chapel. He sits down on the same steps you did. In his heart, there is a funeral that is happening. He lost something…someone. This man is bitter. There is a sour taste he leaves wherever he goes. Does he know the sour taste he left in you?

There is a story that goes around about him and you know it better than those that tell the story.

As he sits there, he looks at his hands. Did he kill his lover? Not physically…well…yes and now but he killed her heart. He is the doctor that collects hearts and he has yours in a golden jar.

As he looks down, he finds the ring he gifted you. As his eyes wander around the area, you are never to be found at least not anymore and maybe he will find you in his dreams. That's the last place you haunt with that ever-lovely smile he oh so adores.

Those who love are fools struck by Cupid.

He holds the ring and lets his thumb run through the designs he will never craft for another lover. He hums and shuts his eyes. If angels were real, they'd pity him and put him out of his misery.

There was a film about this kind of love out there and maybe you two are fools recreating it but adding real emotions into the mix.

"I love you, even if you'll be the end of me," he whispers as he sighs and lets the tears fall.

The end is here…and it wants to sweep you away but Simon clings to you. Was there another woman? No, he lied and it was a damn good lie so he'd let you live the life he can never give you. He is a bump, a major one at that, in your life and maybe one day, you'll forgive him when you sit down with the actual man of your dreams.

Love, what a stupid word.

A/N: not tagging anyone because I don't even know what this is anymore

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #ghost cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley call of duty #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst #cod angst

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fairykazu · 7 months ago

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the battle for the bill with gaming masterlist ++ cw: friends to lovers, pining, first date

it was his first ever date with you, at a dim sum restaurant that recently opened in liyue harbor. he spent like weeks just planning one date just because he was nervous on how you would react or reject him. he had to ask other people for opinions or eavesdrop on your conversations with your friends on what kind of guy you like.

but instead of spiraling even further, thankfully, he let his friends sway him to believe that you like him or believe the fact you like him back in a form of manifestation.

maybe it worked because you agreed to the date with no questions asked.

gaming was so chill about it and everything. he just casually mentioned that he finished his kung-fu practice and that he booked something, and it was an invitation only.

it was during the afternoon or rather, a couple hours until the reservation’s time was up. the day was windy but when he saw you, it gently danced around you and the leaves that were up in his face were just flying atop of your head, not even hitting you in the face.

(and mind you, this is not overly exaggerated… the source? gaming.)

“so, how did you accidentally book for two?” you asked as you stared into his brown eyes, making him nervous by the second.

“i was supposed to go with my uncle but since you're here with me, wanna come with?” gaming said with a wink. it was more like a nervous twitch than the flirty wink but hopefully you took it the other way.

you looked at him as if you thought he was lying. he swore he could feel himself getting more dizzy as his palms got more clammy. are hands supposed to be this sweaty? maybe the archons shouldn’t have given him a pyro vision because clearly, he’s meant for the hydro one. “sure. when is it?”

holy shit, he didn’t even think about it even working. he sputtered out, “it’s a date! i mean, date, six! i mean! ohmygod. new dim sum place at six, you're pretty. it’s a, uh, friend thing!”

you laughed in response. maybe you were tricking him into a prank where you totally accept and ditch last minute. or even, you were laughing at him not with him and you are planning to talk behind his back or something. he knows you wouldn’t have done that but the idea of rejection is catching up to him. “see you on the date, gaming.”

you walked off and the wind hit him in the face again. but it didn’t even bother him this time because oh my god, it worked. he meant, of course it worked! manifestation is real. “oh my god. thank you, morax, thank you all the archons for this luck. i thank you.” he got on his knees and started to cry. then he quickly got up because too many people were looking at him and he was getting a tad embarrassed at what he just did.

and of course, he had a plan:

step one: act like a gentleman, and you will instantly be swooned by his charms. (plan created by liyue squad . . . call 555-LUV-CUPIDS for advice on looove! ).

he really tried but you managed to be one step ahead of him. he picked you up in a kar, a new invention from fontaine that just dropped in liyue. he quickly opened his door, sliding across the bonnet of the kar, an audible squeak was heard from the inside of the car.

you watched him roll off the car, he brushed off the dust off his clothes just before he opened your door, his hair, once slicked back, was back to his normal fluffiness. “for you, my lady.” he said, in a formal tone. he tried to practice a fontainian accent but it did not go as well as he thought he did. xinyan pointed out he sounded more mondstadtian-ist-something than french.

you laughed, it was elegant and pretty and he swore his knees turned into jelly, he stiffly got up, teeter tottering away from the car. “ahem, shall we?” he extended his hand to you and you accepted it.

you were glowing. you looked stunning in your dress and maybe he says this a lot in his head. but if you were walking down the sidewalks, he would see you, get blinded by your beauty and crash his kar into a building. his cause of death? you but he’d be grateful because his last image before he died was seeing you.

“gaming, you ready?”

“born ready… i mean, of course, i am. c’mon lets go.” when he was about to open the door for you, you held it open, “shall we?”

“haha, we shall.”

the waiter welcomed ga-ming into the restaurant, escorting the both of you to your table.

you leaned into him, it was so close! did he appreciate it? yes, he really did. he liked the smell of your perfume. it was very jasmine like, floral and pretty. can you even smell the word, “pretty”? yes and it was you.

“gaming, i thought you said this was a new place and that you haven’t tried it yet?” you asked as he froze up. he had to be dragged by you to the table.

(note to past gaming, from future gaming: he didn’t say all that. YOU WERE LYING!!!)

“uh, surprise?”

he felt his time come, this is what he was made for. the gentleman, the best way to swoon someone by pulling their chair out for them. he was ready. he could feel the angelic spotlight shining on his shoulders as he reached for the chair. he remembered what he was supposed to say, “for you?” or “cmon sit down.” or… something like that.

shit, did he forget his training?

but you beat him to it, you pulled out a chair for him, tilting your head to him. instead of protesting, he sat down immediately. he didn’t put up a fight at all.

he cringed.

it was pitiful! he was like a dog!

he was so going to get you back for this.

totally.

(...not!)

step two: flirting !!!

gaming blinked at his friends who somehow pulled a blackboard from the closet. “what do you mean by, “flirt” with them?” he asked as xiangling pointed with a ruler,

“well, you know, just flirt with your natural charm.” the swordsman bursted out laughing, wiping a tear off his face. eyes still watery, xingqiu quipped back,

“if he had natural charm, you’d think he’d be with them by now.”

gaming scrunched up his face, burying his face into the pillows. muffled, “i do! i mean, i am going to charm them!”

xinyan sat next to him, he scooted more into the pillow. if he tried to scoot more, he’d roll into the cushion. “gaming, just serenade her.” she made a strumming motion as he sighed, “i don’t think i have that skill set.”

xiangling added, “don’t be a buzzkill, i see how they look at you, i think you’re fine.”

“if anything, just manifest it.”

gaming threw the pillow from his face, hitting xingqiu in the process, ignoring the blue haired guy storming to him with two pillows in both hands. “you’re right! i’ll manifest it.”

he tried his best to remember his lessons of how to know to flirt or whatever but he forgot already. he stammered, “so the weather am i right?” he wanted to kill himself. if he was able to clone himself, he’d kill the other in a heartbeat. he laughed nervously as you smiled,

“pretty cool. gaming, do you have any recommendations from this place? or does xiangling know you’re betraying her by going to this place?” you asked. it’s true, when xiangling was planning this date with the crew, she mourned the location of the date not being at wanmin restaurant.

“i like the xiao long bao with the pork but we can switch out the meat if you like or really, we could go the vegetable ones. yes, xiangling knows and she thinks i'm a traitor.” gaming said with a dejected sigh, making you giggle.

yes! side quest accomplished.

“that’s disappointing, gaming, why didn’t we go to wanmin restaurant?” you asked despite knowing the full reason why. everytime you encountered anyone from the liyue squad, there was always a kamera flash in the corner and somehow it’s always xingqiu. gaming nervously laughed, pulling his collar from his neck,

“well, you know how they are, i think, they’d fangirl or something.”

you laughed again and everyday he thanks the archons to let him live in this generation because then he could see you everyday. “like that group?”

gaming’s face dropped as you laughed a little harder, “sorry, sorry, i was just messing with you.”

the brunette laughed it off too despite his whole demeanor tensed up in fear, “gee, if you’re going to do that, give me a warning ahead of time.” he quickly grabbed the glass of water, sipping on the straw.

you tilted your head, “it wouldn’t be just as fun then, i like how cute your expressions are.” he started to choke midway drinking his water, you quickly rose out of your seat and patted him on the back.

he swallowed, “thank you?” he hoped his blush wasn’t noticeable. unfortunately it was, his blush spread to the tips of his ears.

“of course!”

gaming devised a new plan, he called it, screw the hundred step plan by the cupids. he will just go with the flow! well, actually, he’d go for step number ten: pay for the meal. after you two finished dinner, you were getting your wallet from your bag but gaming stopped you, “allow me.” he fished out his lion shaped pouch from his pockets.

“i’ll pay for the bill, gaming, it’s fine.” you insisted as he declined your offer. grabbing your bag and slinged around his body. “name, i took you out, it’s my treat. you can pay me back next time.”

“sorry but our schedules don’t always line up perfectly like this, gaming. you know this so you should just let me pay for our meals. it’s not much.”

“you shouldn’t go out of your way to pay for the meal! and look,” he gestured to your bag, wallet still in it. “you don’t have mora on you, so i’ll go pay.” he raised his hand up, getting the bill.

“i have a card.”

“name, really, i can pay. you can pay me next time, okay?” he tried to bargain with you but you kept going. luckily, he built over defense about paying the bill for years. “don’t play that game with me, gaming. it’s okay, i can pay.”

“oh my god, name, is that international pop idol, robin?” gaming shouted as you whipped your head around. “where!”

he quickly sneaked out of the table, tip toeing to the front. despite being out gentleman’d by his date, you have won the battle but he will win the war. until he saw a familiar figure in front of him, paying for the meal already, he dropped to his knees.

internally screaming no in his heart, a mighty soldier has fallen and it was him. the one who betrayed his love and out-gentleman's him, was you. he didn’t even know how you did it. are you secretly related to sonic the hedgehog?

he wouldn’t mind actually… that’s besides the point. how did you even… ? (he was actually tiptoeing and you just sped past him).

“gaming, c’mon, get up.” you said, lending a hand. nevermind, all is forgiven, he is holding your hand right now. thank you, gods, i have lived. one day i will live again when i meet them in every universe and slash or life. “i paid already.”

“how?”

“magicians don’t reveal their secrets.” you replied with a smile. just before gaming was going ask to elaborate, you quickly kissed his lips.

he melted into it, only standing still and shaking as he held up a thumbs up. "okay!"

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