#the details are always so pointed too like
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A Domestic Life | S. Riley
pairing: simon âghostâ riley x female reader
warnings: none just some fluff bc I donât see enough for him :(( maybe OOC
synopsis: just some fluffy headcannons about the infamous ghost and how he treats relationships
a/n: there is not enough tooth rotting fluff for this guy and Iâm gonna fix that starting now
Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List
requests open for ghost!
â
sleeps like a log. the guy sleeps on his back, pointed at the sleeping and when heâs out heâs OUTTTT that boy does not sleep on the field so in an actual bed? heâs comatose. of course if you have a nightmare you can wake him up anytime. heâll be a little confused at first but heâs got the spirit
enjoys cuddling but not in his sleep. he overheats so easily bc of how big he is so you guys keep your space. he is happy to hold you before bed though while watching a movie or scrolling on tiktok
heâs a DRY texter oh my god. itâs like your biggest pet peeve. âhowâs your dayâ âfineâ âmade any progress?â âno.â youâre working on improving his skills but heâs just like that. you asked a question, he answers. besides he doesnât frequently have time to text you long detailed replies
obviously ghost loves his mask, and it makes sense for him to conceal his identity but he doesnât when heâs back with you. he likes to keep his identities separate. ghost and the mask for the field, regular simon at home. itâs not like anyone would know they were the same guy, except you of course.
on the off chance heâs home for halloween, he doesnât use his mask as a costume (just in case anyone could connect the dots) but does keep the skeleton theme
his favorite holiday is christmas and he always makes sure he can have it off
he LOVES to cook. he doesnât eat good when deployed so he loves coming home and cooking himself up exactly what he wanted. donât get me wrong, he loves if you cook too but thereâs something about not being able to control what you eat and then having full control and making homemade pasta for him
wears beanies all the time in winter. the dudes got a buzz cut, standard, so his heads cold. he loves when you wear a matching one with him
wakes up at the ass crack of dawn bc his body is just used to it after so many years
when he retires, he plans on having a small farm for even fresher homemade ingredients like eggs, milk etc. and heâll wake up early to do the farm chores
again with the shitty food thing, he only likes gas station coffee. heâs so used to a crappy cup of joe that he canât do the fancy shit. then again, heâs more of a tea guy anyway
loves his alone time but he likes you there, if that makes sense? like he loves reading a novel and not talking but just having you also read in the same room
likes just sitting on the couch together and watching a movie
It took him a while to adjust to physical touch after it being 1.) mostly abuse or 2.) enemies after him but he is not completely against it. he knows itâs important in relationships so he tries his best and eventually learns to love it
a sucker for slow dancing in the living room. bonus points if itâs with the christmas tree lights and music. he loves swaying around and the occasional stepping on feet and your giggles
his most prized possession besides the guns and you is a le creuset tea pot you gifted him for christmas. itâs bright blue with a gold handle and perfect.
he has a tea collection on display and is always trying new flavors from around the world. his green tea is imported from japan ONLY. always makes two cups for himself and you
loves to do any picnic dates or apple picking or farm style dates. the man loves food as FRESH as possible.
his bucket lists consists of food places around the world he wants to try and go with you.
including fugu from japan. you are totally opposed because of the whole life or death thing associated with it, but simonâs used to risks and heâll do his research ofc.
heâll never admit but he wants to go to america just to try the fast food there. he knows itâs bad and the opposite of what he stands for but the chinese in britain is ASS and doesnât canes, in n out and chick fil a look SO good?
bicep holding >>> hand holding
he needs routine. simon needs to wake up at the same time, make breakfast for you guys at the same time, have his quiet time on the porch. watch the morning news with you and the tea. always at the same times. he tries not to but he canât help bringing some of his military life home
his crew knows he has a wife but thatâs it. ghost keeps simon separate and you are married to simon.
plus he can never be too safe when it comes to his work. the only name you went by when heâs deployed is âmy wifeâ or âmrs rileyâ
doesnât even carry a photo of you bc heâs that paranoid
you guys actually get married within 18 months because it just makes life easier. as soon as simon knew he wanted to marry you, he did.
itâs just easier in the military bc of pay, benefits, deployment, etc. and ofc he loves you and was locking that down ASAP
sends you recipes when heâs deployed for you to make and rate
when he canât sleep, which is often, he just lays next to you not touching and contemplated how it is after all the bad heâs done, how he got it so good.
and he makes sure you know how appreciative he is
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#cod#call of duty#call of duty x reader#ghost x reader#ghost cod#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley fluff#ghost fluff#simon riley x y/n#ghost mw2
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âââ ËđĄ Ì colds
ìíìŽí | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki
ââPairing: riki x afab!reader
ââGenre: fluff
ââSynopsis: Your boyfriend Riki gets sick, leaving you to care for him for the day
ââWarnings: teeth rotting fluff, Riki without the nonchalant mysterious act
ââA/N: SORRY I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE. I have a few filler posts and then Iâll get back to writing Hallway Crush since I know some of you have been waiting for it
masterlist
You could immediately tell your boyfriend, Riki, was sick the second he stumbled out of him room in the morning. He was pale in the face and looked like he was about to collapse. Way different from when he was exhausted from practicing. After being with him for so long, you noticed more little details in his behavior. This time, he was definitely sick. He made his way to one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter and sat down as if he had been on his feet for hours.
Last night, you had fallen asleep at his apartment while watching a movie. He invited you over for the day since he had been busy recently. By the end of the night, you two ended up watching multiple movies on the couch. When you had fallen asleep, he didn't bother waking you. It was already late at night and he didn't want you going home in the dark. Though, a few hours after you fell asleep, he started feeling unwell and went to sleep in his bedroom. Riki didn't want you to get sick too.
"Are you feeling okay?" You asked gently, handing him his plated breakfast. He reached out with a trembling hand to take the plate.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He said in a groggy and scratchy voice. You shot him a look with raised eyebrows. "I just need to eat before practice." He lied straight to your face. He wasn't a very convincing liar. You already had your answer no matter what excuse he gave to convince you he was okay and healthy.
"You're sick, Riki. Don't lie to me." You stated, reaching into the medicine cabinet for the thermometer. "I'm taking your temperature."
"No. I told you, I'm not-" he coughed mid sentence. "I- I mean I'm-" and he coughed again. After he had recovered from him coughing fit, he slammed his hand on the counter and insisted "I'm not sick!"
You sighed, ignoring his excuses. "Open your mouth." You demanded, holding out the thermometer in front of his face. He looked up at you and furrowed his eyebrows. "Now, Riki." You said sternly. He reluctantly opened his mouth, letting you take his temperature as he crossed his arms angrily. After a few seconds you took the thermometer from him and held it up to reveal the little screen that read 38.3°. You raised your eyebrows and gave him a told-you-so look.
"I feel fine, Y/n." He stated, turning to eat his breakfast. You stood behind him and brushed his hair with your fingers as he ate. When he was done, he picked up his plate and began to stand up but was interrupted by you taking his plate to put in the sink yourself. "I was going to do that. I'm not incapable just because I have a high temperature." He sulked.
"Well now you can preserve energy. Go lay down." you insisted.
"But I have practice-"
"You're sick. Go lay down." you said seriously. Riki stuck out his bottom lip making his mouth form a small pout, your weakness. He knew you would always give in when he acted this way. You couldn't resist how cute he was. But today was different. He was sick and you were very serious about him staying in good health. You scrunched your eyebrows to prove that you were serious. And to show that his antics weren't working on you today.
"But then I'll have to call the boys and cancel practice. It's so much of a hassle and-" He began to complain before being interrupted again.
"I'll text them. Go lay down. Now." You pointed in the direction of his room. He huffed and turned to leave reluctantly. You followed close behind to make sure he actually laid down. Riki's cough only seemed to worsen as you walked him to his room. You assumed his throat was probably sore too. You made a mental note to make him soup and tea.
As Riki pulled the blanket over himself, you sat down beside him at the edge of the bed. You ran your fingers through his hair and looked at him sympathetically.
"How do you feel? And be honest with me this time." You asked with a slight pout. You felt bad for him whenever he wasn't feeling well. He would have to skip practice and stay at his apartment doing nothing. Riki was always very active. He never liked to stay in one place for too long.
"Um... my throat hurts and obviously I have a terrible cough." He explained. "My whole body feels sore too. I feel pretty weak and shaky."
You looked at him like he was a hurt animal. It was awful how he could become this sick in such a short time. Feeling sorry for him wasnât going to make him better though.
"I'm sorry, my love. Would you like me to get you cough medicine?" You asked him, rubbing his cheek gently. He nodded before coughing again. You frowned and stood up to get medicine for him. You left a quick kiss on his forehead but before you could leave, Riki grabbed your hand.
"Y/nnnnn" He whined, pulling your arms back toward him.
"Yes, Ki?" You asked and placed your free hand over his.
"Can we cuddle?" He asked, trying to subtly pull your arm so you would sit back on the bed with him.
"No, silly. You're sick." You cooed, trying to free yourself from his hold on your arm. Still, he refused to let you go.
"Pleeeeeeeeeease? I'll hold my breath the entire time so you don't get sick." You laughed as he tried to convince you.
"Riki, you're ridiculous."
Of course, he refused to give up, though. "What if I die today?" and his over dramatic antics started. "What if this is your last chance to cuddle with your super hot boyfriend? You're really going to pass up this chance?"
"Yes because I need to be healthy in order to care for your needy ass."
"Come onnnnnn. When was the last time you cuddled with poor old me?"
"Yesterday." You deadpanned.
"Fuck." You start to walk away to get his medicine. "Wow, you really don't love me, do you?"
"If I don't love you, I guess you don't need medicine or soup or tea, huh?" You stop in your tracks and turn back around, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Nooo!" He whined, draping his arm over his face dramatically.
"You're impossible to deal with.â You reply dismissively, shaking your head. âYou act like Iâm leaving forever. Iâm only going to the kitchen. Youâll be fine.â
âBut what if your cuddles are the only remedy to my fatal illness!?â He yelled as you walked out of the room, ignoring him with an amused grin.
After a few minutes, you came back into the room holding a tray with soup, tea, and some medicine. You placed it on the nightstand next to him, which was now littered with tissues. Riki happily ate the food you made for him. When he was done eating, his antics picked up again.
âSo, since Iâve been cured with your superior cooking, that means we can cuddle now, right?â He asked with a huge smile plastered across his smug face.
âAbsolutely not.â You sighed heavily.
âAwww come onnnnâ he whined like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He even crossed his arms, which made you laugh. Upon seeing his pouting face once more, your mind had been changed.
âAlright, fine. You win.â You were quick to tackle your boyfriend in a big hug. He let out a quiet âouchâ as you laid on top of him. His grin was quick to return to his face though.
âDoes this mean I get a kiss too?â Riki smirked playfully.
âYouâre so hard to say no to.â You rolled your eyes before leaning in to connect your lips. The kiss lingered for a longer time than intended. You were always so careful with him. You took care of him no matter what. Riki had a hard time expressing his gratitude through words, so instead he used actions. A meaningful kiss. His gratitude to you.
© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You
#enhypen#enha#kpop#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen angst#enhablr#enha fluff#enha imagines#enha x reader#niki enhypen#enhypen niki#niki#niki fluff#niki imagines#niki x reader#nishimura riki#strawberrynull
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Introducing The Kings to Your Plushies
me and my bestie have a joke about my faves showing up to my place for sex and i would not realize and just start talking about my plushies based on this dumb post we saw once, thought it'd be funny to turn into an actual scenario lol might do this for the other devils, angels, minhyeok if the ppl are interested lol notes: mildly sexual - not really anything deeply insane, gender neutral reader !!!
Satan
On one hand, he thinks you're really cute. On the other hand, he's here to fuck so.
He's going back and forth so much in his head for a moment he's not even paying attention to you talking oops.
Gets so frustrated and angered from trying to decide what to do it ultimately ends with him just jumping on you.
Cut you off mid word with an incredibly heat filled kiss from rage.
Honestly you might not even 100% be certain what happened but you're not complaining!! You can always talk about the rest of your plushies later!!!
Well. If Satan doesn't fuck you until the point you're resting for the next couple days.
Once he actually pays attention to you talking about them he'll remember some names here and there, but he will get them wrong on purpose to try and see you angry lol.
Mammon
The reality is he probably got you most of these plushies.
He adores seeing how you cherish them and the lore you've decided for them!!
Will remember every single detail you tell him about them!!
He thinks it's super cute and will humor you for the moment.
However, Mammon will get what he wants eventually. But for right now you're so adorable how could he tell you no?
He is DEFINITELY teasing you later once he does get to sleep with you about how cute you are.
This man lives to see you embarrassed and shy from his compliments.
Is probably buying you even MORE plushies now, hope you're prepared for that!
Leviathan
I think it depends at the point in your relationship, if it's early on he might just toss the plushies aside and get to the point of what he wants.
Later on I do think he genuinely listens, even if he's impatient and pretends like he doesn't care. If it's important to you he does care, just doesn't always show it.
Especially if you use the plushies as a form of comfort due to trauma or any other issues.
You won't even realize how much he paid attention until he refers to your plushies by their names if you accidentally leave them laying around.
However he does still get jealous so so easily so maybe try not to spend too much time at once focusing on them rather than him.
He tries so hard but eventually the jealousy will overtake him and he will just get straight to the sex.
For what it's worth, he still found you cute! He just can't help himself.
Beelzebub
I'm not gonna lie, you might be able to successfully distract him for a good bit.
Dude's invested in the names and lore and anything you have created for them!!! He likes hearing about it !!!!
He isn't gonna be able to remember every single bit of these details but he might remember some of it here and there. Either way he likes listening to how you talk about them!
That being said he can only sit still for so long so maybe introduce him a little at a time lmao.
Especially because once he DOES start to get distracted he's gonna remember the original reason he was here.
And well. Yeah just like that it's time to fuck!
Because you successfully distracted him for a bit you might be in store for an extra long session this time so! Good luck!
Lucifer
He listens fully. Wants to hear everything you have to say about them.
He finds the plushies super cute, so he enjoys listening to your ramblings, even if he had certain intentions when he arrived.
But most importantly, he's so endeared, you're so absolutely adorable to him. The way your face lights up when you talk about them, he can't get enough!!!!
So he lets you have your moment.
And when you're finally done is when he's actually gonna fuck you lol. Yeah, that was still happening he had a goal.
And if he's teasing you extra specially tonight, don't even worry about it (whether it be from compliments or degradation who's to say!! just know you're gonna be crying extra hard this time he's so worked up from how cute you are!).
Of course, he remembers every single detail you tell him, he has that shit committed to memory. Asks you questions sometimes to see that adorable look on your face again!
Belphegor
Goodnight.
He tries to pay attention but he's ready to fall asleep apologies.
He showed up for sex and when it wasn't happening his brain turned off.
That being said the second you realize he's asleep and start trying to wake him up he's on you!!
Like okay conversation done we're fucking now right?
It's just easier to give what he wants and lecture him in the process.
It's fine he tries to listen later. That being said if he invites Beleth to listen too don't worry about it. He totally didn't tell him to memorize details for him because he's probably gonna fall asleep again.
Asmodeus
Sorry there's just no way to distract this man from sex.
If he's showing up for sex he's here to for sex !!!!
And he WILL get it!!!
If anything he just starts fucking you while holding up the plushies to you and asking you details about them.
Unfortunately you're kinda too fucked out by that point to truly answer them.
He's a fucking menace apologies.
And he cannot be stopped I fear.
That being said any information he does manage to get out of you he does fully remember!!
It's his own weird way of showing affection, ya know?
#what in hell is bad#whb#whb x reader#whb leviathan#whb satan#whb mammon#whb asmodeus#whb belphegor#whb beelzebub#whb lucifer#what in hell is bad x reader#whb smut
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ignis obscura (dragon-sacrifice!Steve falls for random-man-in-the-woods(?)!Eddie before Steve goes to get eaten) (???)
feat. lots of love-at-first-sight, soul-deep devotion sorta shit
When a dragon arrives within telling-distance, the town nearest the lair it claims must send the sacrifice; their most valued possession. Everyone knows this.
It was just that no one in Hawkins had ever imaginedânever really believedâthat of all the villages, a dragon would come to them.
Steve had imagined it, though. As a boy, heâd thought it an adventure. As a teenager, heâd fancied it something of an escape.
Now, when it happens? As a young man, Steve Harrington mostly just thinks of course it goes like this.
Because heâs the disappointing-but-only son of the mayor, in a town where mayoral wealth rivals the coffers of the crown, and if the dragon wants value? Steveâs the gateway to whatever riches have been hoarded, whatever small power may be marshaled to command more, to rule, to gather up virgins if Steve himself proved insufficient to that fabled taskâthough he was renowned as the most comely of his people, having just dipped his toe into his prime while keeping the rosy flush to his cheeks alongside the strength in his arms: perfect timing, really. It helped pad the argument for him as the tribute.
As if maybe the dragon had waited, had watched. Had known what it wanted, and swooped in with intent.
Steve couldnât give two ratsâ asses what the dragon did or didnât do, as he made his way through the woods and up the mountain. The stories of sacrifice always paired with the same end: no matter how you pleased the dragon, the tribute did not live to descend to their home again.
So really, at this point, it was merely a question of how Steve would meet his end. At the dragonâs mercy, of course, but: more like details.
Steve distracts himself with arguments for whether itâs wiser, or more efficient, to carve human flesh with claws or teeth, and itâs a job done so well that he not only finds himself wholly turned around on this trek, far too close to nightfall, and not nearly as near to the cave heâs aiming for as he need be, but more than that:
He fails to notice heâs no longer alone.
âAre you lost?â
There is a honey-smooth quality to the voice that rings out butâŠdeeper. Darker even, though it doesnât strike warning between Steveâs lungs. ItâsâŠcaramelized, and slow slip of thickâŠalmost comfort. Steve fights to keep a clear head: not all dangers are apparent. Enchantment and faerie mischief, even, could have found him in his mindless wandering.
âLost?â Steve tries to scoff at the right tone of haughty; âIâve lived here my entire lifeââ
âIn these deserted woods?â the voice, and now thereâs a figure that draws nearer, closer in the growing claim of the moon for light but still more silhouette than anything as itâhe, the voice is male, Steve is near-certainâturns and assesses their immediate surroundings before tutting thrice:
âStrange choice of domicile.â
And itâs mocking, of course it is: but the honey-caramel of the voice is a molten thing. It warms Steve deep and he cannot even be cross.
âI,â he starts, but sees not point to finishing before he sighs and admits, to himself as much as to the stranger:
âYes, I am lost.â
âBut youâve lived here your whole life!â the stranger slaps a palm to his own cheek, mouth dropped in faux-horror but he looks soâŠearnest. And maybe adorable with it, so much so that Steve canât help but chuckle a little helplessly for it all.
âHush,â he chides, half-heartedly at best. âI was supposed to get to the caves by nightfall.â
âOoo,â the stranger leans in, as if to prepare for a secret; Steve didnât realize he was so close; âscintillating dinner date?â
Steve canât help it but to snort.
âBy a measure,â Steve deadpans, before clearing his throat; âI need to present myself to the dragon.â When the strange man stares at him unblinking Steve deflates a little.
âYou know, hot, fire,â he gestures broadly; everyone knows what comes at the end of a sacrifice: âdinnerâŠâ
âWhy are you looking for a dragon?â the other man asks, his lips pulling down a bit in just-shy-of-a-frown. Steve doesnât like the look on him, so he tries to put on a bit of a show, match the strangerâs teasing energy from before as best he can in the given circumstances:
âI just so happen to be the village sacrifice,â Steve announces, chest puffed a bit, but he fails to do anything but deepen the frown heâd been aiming to wipe clean from the other manâs face; now Steveâs frowning, too, as he deflates a little, but hardens a little too, crossing his arms and leaning back where the other manâs not even bothered to stop leaning in, despite his apparently displeasure.
âWhat?â Steve challenges, but itâs brittle, he knows it. âItâs a,â he vacillates, unsure how exactly to describe theâŠritual of it. The way itâs cast as a, as aâŠ
âIt is a high,â Steveâs voice wavers a bit, like finally saying it aloud makes it all the less believable: âhonor.â
The other man eyes him silently until Steve feels it in his very skin, before finally he speaks:
âHmm,â he tips his head, considering just a little before he seems less to come to a conclusion, and more to a conclusion on how to best voice the things he wanted to say already, at that:
âWell, I know these woods very well, better than any hailing from the village I suspect youâre speaking of,â his gaze flicks Steve top to toes, something warm in it, no, something hot in it, that simmers through Steveâs veins: âand so I can get you to the caves, at the very least for shelter before moonrise-full,â he glances skyward, seeming to doublecheck his words before he nods decisively and reaches out a hand:
âThink you can trust someone you only just stumbled upon in the forest to steer you straight?â
And Steve doesnât know for sure what heâd have done, what his answer and actions may have been if death-by-some-draconic-means werenât imminent. But it is, and so he takes the hand offered, and grasps more than shakes, holds more than strikes accord and lets himself notice and relish how smooth and warm it feels against his skin:
âLead the way.â
He doesnât know what heâd do in lesser circumstances.
But for the grin on the manâs face, the way it shines brighter than moonlight, than sunrays even, he suspects: for the way it makes of the man a star on his own somehow?
Steve wants very much to believe heâd trust the man anyway, regardless of sense, just for the breadth of that smile.
~~~~~~~~~~
âLooks like the dragonâs out for the night.â
Steve makes an extra survey of the den nestled a good bit into the cave when his mysterious guide comments on the undeniable silence of their surroundings, the telling echo of their footsteps in the empty space.
âCurses,â Steve huffs, both frustrated and dismayed because: âIâll have angered him, what if he doesnât think Iâm enough forââ
âOne,â Steveâs beguiling guide ticks the point off with a finger raised on a strangely elegant hand; âyou think dragons to be too irritable.â Steve rolls his eyes to himselfâthis Man who knows so much of the temperaments of dragons, the ego to presumeâ
âThey can be quite pleasant so long as they have sufficient treasure. And theyâre long-lived, so theyâre patient,â the man continues on, which: it seems his egoâs well-reasoned out at the very least, Steve supposes.
âWhich brings us to point number two,â and of course thereâs a number two, a pair of fingers now waving almost accusingly to the side of Steveâs face:
âYouâre more than enough to be worth waiting for.â
Steve blushes furiously and thanks the sparse cracks of nearly enchantedâquite possibly enchanted, actuallyâlight for very little chance to be seen for it.
His companion grins with a glimmer of that sparse glow catching his eyes, glittering in it like enchantment themselves, and Steve thinks both that yes, heâs likely been seen and caught so that likewise yes, he needs to move out of the shaft of light that betrays him and with haste, because to think such a thing about this strange and beguiling manâbeguiling, good godsâsays far to much about what Steve feels about him, and far too soon, even by his standards.
Which are lightning quick already on a day in which he knows restraint.
âSparse for a horde,â Steve surprises himself for how steady his voice is, given how obvious his bid to change the subject lands, not matter his tone.
His companion is gracious enough to allow the shift without comment:
âYou think mortal eyes can see such things without a dragonâs explicit permission?â
But not gracious enough to abandon that ego.
âHow do you know so much of dragons?â Steve finally just asks; subtletyâs never been his strongest characteristic, and in honesty, itâs past time to have asked it.
The other man smirks, scoffs a little.
âThis may be your villageâs first encounter with them,â and itâs said not quite in censure, and not unkindly, but Steve is cowed a bit nonethelessâthe man had never named but has more than once referenced where he thinks Steveâs from, and Steve suspects if his vestments and the crests embroidered to them werenât enough, his lack of knowledge would beâhis people have been blessed in many ways, and live privileged lives on the whole, most especially his family, in comparison to their neighbors.
âBut here is the only perch for the span of tens of villages,â the man points out; âand theyâve not been left untouched for so long.â
Right. Of course.
âYouâre from a neighboring town?â
âOne word for it,â the man shrugs, in such a way now that it shivers through his unruly curls; âand youâre from Hawkins, I gather.â
Right. Unsubtle to the bone it seems, indeed.
âFor the whole of my life I can say I know only one thing about your home,â the man takes Steve grimace as the confirmation that it is; âand itâs how they share notoriously little to know.â
Steve chews at his lip, knows the failings his familyâs rule has had for the people without and without their borders. Has tried to find ways to help without power of his own in the order of things.
âI always wished to see other lands, even the nearest of them,â Steve finally lands on something to say; âI tried to convince my parents, butââ
âParents?â
It might be the first time his newâŠfriend? Looks properly halted.
âSon and heir,â Steve points to himself with a weary sort of smirk, the whole thing laughable, really; âthe tribute has to be valuable, right? I thought upon seeing so little here, I could offer from our own troves before the end, as appeasement but,â Steve sighs, suddenly drained, only now realizing, now that the option eludes him, just how heavily he was counting on the option of at least trying to bargain with the dragon, appealing to its intellect and far more, its love of treasure.
âBut if itâs as you say, I may have much less by way of offering at all.â
Thereâs an instant sort of chill that fills him as he starts to acclimate to the reality that heâs going to die, and soon, and there truly is not hope for an escape. Heâ
âLet me assure you,â the manâs hand startles Steve, battles and swiftly overcomes the chill in him as it wraps tight around Steveâs wrist, his voice following Steveâs own almost without break, a cutting finality to it, definitiveness in his tone and his eyes alike once Steve meets themâand once Steve meets them, the not-quite-stranger doesnât let him look away.
Magnetic.
âBased on what I have seen?â and the words could be casual, but the low rumble theyâre spoken with is anything but:
âYou could walk here wholly empty handed, and no dragon worth their flame would turn you away as unworthy.â
Steve feels less his cheeks, and more his whole body, inside and out, flush bright and thereâs no light to hide from, save from the one shimmering in the gaze locked into his own.
And Steve, for all his postures of pride: this time?
He has no desire to hide the way he flushes, never mind the way he shivers, if it means trying to evade those eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~
Incidentally, itâs too late for the other man to turn back, though he clearly knows these woods so well. Steve insists that he stays.
Not for any ulterior motives, of course.
The man argues, if almost for show alone, but agrees on one condition: they neither of them have bedding. The other man apparently hadnât planned to be out past the hour for rest, is only stuck because of Steve and Steveâ
Steve has a pack but heâŠhe presumed heâd either be dead and his offerings deemed fitting, or the dragon would keep him as the dragon desired, bedding or clothing or neither, until the dragon was satisfied.
And then, again: heâd be dead.
It is unthinkable to take the meager blankets Steve can see in a corner, not without permission; not from a dragon, so. The other man is asking toâŠlie close.
And Steve is not opposed. The man is almostâŠsurreally exquisite, especially in the passing moonlight. His angles areâŠparticular. Alluring. They steal the breath in Steveâs chest a little, long before theyâve earned the right.
âIt feels more than overdue now to ask your name,â Steve whispers, not that itâs necessary. Not that thereâs anyone to hear.
âEddie,â the man whispers back, his voice so warm and almost enveloping, like an embrace in itself and Steve feels less absurd for speaking so soft, so privately.
Nearly intimate.
Good gods, now Steve is being absurd and should feel it to his bones. He deserves to suffer the uncomfortable twist of embarrassment it leaves in stomach, at this rate.
âSteve,â he manages to say low enough that his mortification isnât audible.
But then:
âThat is a beautiful name, sweetheart,â Eddie breathes, and heâs shimmied closer somehow while Steve was stuck in his shame-spiral for being the too quick to show his cards, even to himself in his own head.
âNothing special to it,â Steve mutters, demurs a little but in a coquettish way, doesnât even mean to. JustâŠthereâs an energy between them now, and Steveâs primed to match it.
âIsnât there?â Eddie asks, heated and near in a way that dances up Steveâs spine:
âI would hesitate to be so sure.â
Again, Steve doesnât mean to, or plan to, when he rolls further into Eddieâs frame where theyâre laid together, already so close, now nearly in each otherâs arms.
He doesnât mean to, and yet: his arms are gathered close against the chest of a man he doesnât know, and yet feelsâŠmore comfortable next to than any body heâs pressed against in his life.
And there have been fair few.
âYouâre so warm,â Steve mouths more than anything, lips dragging on this half-strangerâs neck by accident, because it could be nothing save an accident that Steve now knows that Eddieâs skin tastes of salt and smoked cinnamon sticks and the air in the forrest at night: elemental, somehow. Necessary.
Only by accident would Steve torture himself this way.
âIâd keep you warm always,â Steve hears as the world blurs soft to black, the phantom sensation of arms curling around him, welcoming him to sleepâthe whole of it odd in every way because he hadnât spoken loud enough to be heard, really, even so close, and to read his words from the drag of his mouth to flesh was of course impossible.
âTo the end of the Age and beyond if I could,â the words drift blissful, wistful like an invitation into sleep: âif youâd let me.â
So of course: it must have been a dream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Daybreak finds them entangled.
SteveâŠfreezes, as if he didnât feel snug and perfectly warm wrapped up so close. He weighs the merits of bolting, and making apologies after the fact, against trying to extricate himself without rousing his companion, versusâ
âGood morning, sweetness.â
Steve stills somehow further, feels his face heat yet again and yet this time, despite the dark of the cave, heâsâŠcrushed ever so pleasantly against the bare smooth planes of a chest thatâŠshouldnât be bare, should it, because they moved together close for heat against the chill and for certain it is past dawn but it is still nowhere near warm enough forâ
âDid you sleep well?â
Steve groans, which only leads him to burrowing further into the unavoidably welcoming give of Eddieâs chest, lean but strong, Steve can tell, much like he can feel as much as hear the rumbling laughter that cascades through that chest: so much like an invitation to sink into the chest and the sound alike, to never be singular, to never be cold.
What a ridiculous notion.
But then lips are unmistakably pressed to the crown of Steveâs head, not even in passing, no: they linger. TheyâŠfeel right.
Steve wants for them to be right until the day he diesâ
Well. That might actually be possible, or close enough for what heâs earned in this world.
The irony.
Eddie takes to the huntâthe reason he was in the woods to find Steve in the first place, apparently; he says his bow and knives are just down toward the ravine, which Steve vaguely knows but not well, too close to the borders of other lands.
âDonât fret, though,â and this time the lips press to the low half of Steveâs cheek, affection that does not press its advantage but makes it desires clear, too close to Steve mouth to be anything less.
SteveâŠis unsure what to make of that. Because he cannot make what he thinks of first; he cannot possibly follow that thread in his own mindâincreasingly in his own chest.
âIâll find you, if you get lost again.â
As if Steve will wander, would risk missing his dragon captorâs return, to even consider one misstep to unintentionally enrage his looming executioner, to even consider missing a single instant in the meantime with this manâ
But the glinting smile that man shoots Steveâs way as he strides out the yawning opening in the rocks, its glinting like stardust and warm radiance that fills Steveâs veins then spills over and seeps into his marrow:
Steve doesnât think that man actually meant getting lost that way.
And what on earth is he supposed to make of that, save everything that he canât have; that cannot be?
Though, in fairness: it would be on brand. Steven Harrington of Hawkins.
Falling hard and fast and more real than ever before, mere hours before he leaves the mortal coil.
~~~~~~~~~~
âYouâre anxious.â
Steve knows now that his dreams were realty, last night. The words, the arms.
He is awake in them now after they eat what Eddieâs secured for them, cooked over a fire perfectly pitched outside the mouth of the cave, its warmth not insufficient as theyâd eaten in pleasant company together.
Not insufficient at all. Just not this chest; these arms.
And now they are both of them bare to the waist, knowingly and happily curled into one another, and Steve feels on one hand boneless, weightless, inexplicably held and kept beyond the physical in the embrace of a man he barely knows and yet feelsâŠclose to. Something-he-cannot-bring-himself-to-say-at-first sight, like in the fairy stories.
But that manâs palm is splayed across Steveâs chest; can feel the birdsâ wings of his heartbeat at first stroke.
For the first time in Steveâs life, it doesnât feel like a weakness heâs caught out on; with Eddie nuzzling at his hair, Steve doesnât hesitate to speak his fear with a heavy sigh:
âYou said youâve dealt with dragons.â
âTime to time,â Eddie hums, presses his lips to Steveâs scalp like reassurance.
âHow will it happen?â Steve whispers shakily, but for the first time in his entire life, he shakes into someone who seems to care, against all reason; who holds tighter to him for needing rather than casting him away.
âI mean, I know,â Steve licks his lips; âI know what will happen, just,â and he canât quite finish, chokes around his words. Eddie moves closer against him, under the weight of Steveâs frame, maneuvers them so that he can tilt his head just so to kiss down Steveâs jaw while still holding him close; ever closer.
âWell,â Eddie pecks against the peak of Steveâs cheekbone before moving down, all the while massaging circles against Steveâs chest; âa town sends their most valued,â and he sucks a little the, against Steveâs jawline; âbut some towns have less to pick from,â and then he finds Steveâs pulse point and suckles there with real feeling until Steve may be terrified, but heâs simultaneously soft clay in a beautiful manâs hands, under a beautiful manâs mouth.
âA dragon is not a mindless beast,â Eddie adds after Steve can feel heâs been well and thoroughly bruised.
âIâve always heard theyâre very smart,â Steve breathes, maybe nods, mostly just savors Eddieâs heat, his nearness, how he touches Steve like he has value; like Steve has value to him, and what a thing to feel, to want, to possibly hold, even for these stolen moments; âitâs how they tell if you send them less than theyâre owed.â
Because of course Steve knows the stories. Steve can remember countless tales of horrific ends for villages, towns, whole kingdoms even, razed for being so haughty and foolish as to try and swindle a dragonâperhaps embellished to encourage childrenâs behavior, but. The bones of the narrative fit the oft-smoldering evidence often enough, so far as Steve could tell in the proper histories.
âNot owed,â Eddie corrects, firmly but somehow also gently, his capacity for dynamism an oddly comforting thing, so human and forgiving of overstepping boundaries so freely as to maybe not even draw any to begin with, at complete odds with Steveâs entire life; ânot how most people think, at least.â
Eddie flip Steve over gently, firmly again, settles them chest to chest, one atop the other as Steve looks down at him, feels his heartbeat crash against Eddieâs own closer than ought to be felt, like their ribs clear way for the two of them, for whatever they could be, and Steve wonders if part of why his heart is racing so is for the loss of the possibility that rushes through him, that swells between them in every momentâsomething that grows in every moment, every look and touch and blink, that expands effervescent and filled with so much without any knowledge that there is not space to hold it, that what time they have is borrowed at best.
Steve thinks maybe; his sick heart for it could be railing where the rest of him is fixated on etching every one of those looks and blinks and touches into his bones so that they may be among the last parts of him to leave the earth.
âA dragon, above most things, has a particularly keen sense to know precisely where value lies,â Eddieâs explaining again, his hand now still, pressed against Steveâs heart akin to a shield, or a safe-hold. âAnd how.â
Steve ponder that for a moment before he meets Eddieâs eyes, having felt them heavy and molten upon him with new fire before taking them in for all that they are: brilliance.
Blinding.
Steve leans as Eddie arches and they meet in between to press their lips together after what feels an eternity and an instant of living in a world where they didnât taste one another in such a way as to drink their fill. As to breathe each otherâs breath.
So as to tease and cherish deep, to tongue against the very heart.
And there Steve makes certain, before he loses himself wholly to sensation:
Looks. Touches. Blinks. Carved into his bones, but first.
First heâll gild them in every single kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~
They transition fully into lovers in a seamless fashion, insatiable like Steveâs never known it. Eddie never keeps him wanting, gives selflessly and Steve does all that he can to reciprocate and more, because Eddie is everything, of that Steve is certain, and therefore he deserves no less.
He also seems dead set on making sure that they are posed as equals. That to lavish one another with affections as much as to ravish each other endless never unbalances one way or the other. Wherever Steve seeks to give more where Eddie should have it, Eddie turns the tables to takes Steve apart so that all he knows is tingly euphoria. A happiness heâs never felt, didnât quite believe could exist.
Yet here he is. Here they are.
Steve smiles more than he remembers, playful and ravenous and overflowing with feeling, and Eddie doesnât rise to meet his enthusiasm: heâs already there, matched with him and ecstatic to entwine. Itâs a heady thing, addictive and overwhelming and a gift, Steve thinks: maybe the universe forgive him for doing less to stop harm and deprivation in his home, for wishing to help more and acting where he could even if it wasnât enough. Maybe he gets this sliver of heaven out of pity for whatâs to come.
He will take it with open arms. He will welcome it. He will make himself of it until there is not Steve that exists outside of it.
But it cannot overcome the inevitable, in its impending, suffocating weight.
Come the sixth day like thisâthe sixth night like thisâsomething in Steve gives way. Existing on the precipice of life and death with no telling of when the hammer with strike finally takes too much of a toll, and his nerves betray him.
âLikely they are hunting, it can take many days, weeks even Iâm told,â Eddie tries to console him as he shakes, canât even sob, like his body canât coordinate even that much to work properly, too distraught are pieces of him heâs flooded with pleasure but finally could no longer be denied, fed on his wonderment and picked until it cracked enough for his fears to bleed through. âBut if you are still so anxious we could, or, I could try and look for some clue as to where itâs gone?â Eddie offers carefully, holding Steve together as he does his utmost to shudder out of his skin. âAnd you can stay here, in case it returns?â
The only thing Steve can do then is shake his head until it hurts, until heâs dizzy with his own vehement denial: itâs the first things thatâs properly matched, body to feeling.
Itâs fitting that way.
âI,â Steve starts, just voice barely a scratch as Eddie reaches, tips his chin upward and cups his face so delicate:
âWhat, angel?â
Steve blinks at himâtakes him in, presses down to pain as he draws it, brands it onto his skeleton to be remembered, all the tangled but powerfulfeelings he has for this man so fast, so strong.
For this man, for all he feels: Steve makes himself speak whatâs heavy and true and real in his galloping heart:
âI have no intention of reneging my duties,â he rasps, holds on to Eddie as tightly as he can, as if maybe their bones could brand oneâs another and fuse into one.
âBut until no choice is left, I,â Steve chokes, and his eyes burn as he holds Eddieâs gaze, lifts Eddieâs hand away from his cheek and over to his lips to press all his hopeless hopes against Eddieâs palms:
âI donât want to be out of your sight, nor you taken from mine.â
The tear that escapes him then is caught by Eddieâs thumb. Adoringly.
Each that follows is lost between Eddieâs lips; might belong to them both.
Steve thinks he can believe that muchâin these fleeting, sacred momentâto be true.
~~~~~~~~~~
The dragon has still not appeared, and Steve has since collected himself for the most part, with Eddie ready to brace him steady when he starts to falter. Itâs a wild novel thing, to be supported this way. To be cared for.
With such care, comes perception. For better or worse.
âWhat troubles you, beloved?â Eddie eyes him knowingly, a level of sight straight through to Steveâs soul that should not be fathomable in a lifetime, let alone a weekâs time.
âMy own mind,â Steve admits freely, unwilling any longerâif he ever had beenâto hide from Eddie, unsure what the point would be even if he desired to: âit is cowardly, and selfish.â
âI doubt that,â Eddie catches Steveâs jawbone with a single finger, playful, endearing: but clear in its pointed redirection of Steveâs gaze, and his disparagement of his own thoughts:
âI would doubt that quite strongly, in fact.â
Steve lets Eddie touch prompt him to a kiss, as if he needs coaxing before he leans into the crook of Eddieâs neck and breathes him in: the best savours of the ground and sky.
âI would not run from my fate, here,â Steve says, not wholly to remind himself but, not without that purpose at hand; âsave that it feels like my fate isâŠâ
And he slides his hand to Eddieâs chest, hopes it speaks for him where he doesnât know words for the depth and breadth and weight of these feelings; Eddieâs hand covers his, automatic, and he knows heâs understood.
âI wish not to be parted from you, now that Iâve found you,â Steve whispers, swallows hard, then looks Eddie in the eyes, speaks straight to the soul in them so that he is not misread, or underestimated in the weight of his own words, now:
âI think that I may be in love with you.â
And heâs never been before. Heâs believed it may be love, but: no. No, it was never love before.
If ever it was love: it is this.
âOh my precious one,â Eddie pets his hair and kisses after his own touch: âI donât think that Iâm in love with you,â and Steve stiffens only for the instant Eddie leaves between those words, and dipping down to Steveâs ear to exhale with feeling:
âI know it.â
How it is possible to die brokenhearted and happier than heâd ever dreamed, Steve doesnât know.
But heâs about to serve as object lesson, in just days.
Maybe less.
~~~~~~~~~~
âKnow that when,â Steve is speaking to the cracks in the rock that peek at the night sky as he speaks, Eddie on his chest like a blanket, save so much better; âwhen it happens,mwhen it devours me whole or takes me in pieces,â and his voice catches, but he remains resolute; âit will know you in every inch of me,â and he cups Eddie closer to him then, holds him against the thunderous roar of his pulse.
âMy heart is full of you, and it will taste only of devotion,â Steve near-hisses for the fervor in him. âYouâll be the last bit of me known to the world.â
âNever.â
The growl that comes from the body that curls around him, protective, possessive, beloved in a way and to a magnitude Steve didnât know he could feel before now: the venom in it makes it clear that itâs not a refutation of Steveâs declaration for the sentiment.
Itâs a refutation to the cosmos itself.
âI would never allow it,â Eddie bites out, pressing closer to Steve, to his heart: âyou will not be forfeit to some dragon,â and oh, but this man Steve loves is wild with his passion, foolhardy and yet all the more lovable for it.
âI would fight with all that I am to protect you,â he vows, presses his lips to Steveâs chest and speaks there like he means well and truly to means to tell Steve to the heart of him this sole, unshakeable truth: âand should somehow I lose the battle, it could only be because there is nothing of me left to fight.â
And for the first time, in all his life: Steve clings to something, someone, heâd happily rip his beating heart out to protect.
And thatâhe realizes in a single world-rewriting instantâhe fears the loss of more than any other thing.
Any. Other. Thing.
~~~~~~~~~~
They donât speak of it, or of a choice to be made when the time does come: Steve thinks maybe thatâs the only way they manage at all, really, is to simply hold it between them in those last days. Known. Seen.
Loved.
And feared.
But always together. Always so close, in every way.
Until the stasis breaks.
âSteve,â Eddie breathes into the afternoon, innocuous. Steveâs stopped counting how many days theyâve stolen together.
âI must leave, my darling.â
Steve narrows his eyes, trying to understand him. He watches as Eddie hurries to gather both of Steveâs hands, to bring them to his lips.
âOnly for a short while,â he murmurs between Steveâs fingers, kisses at his knuckles with apology, and with heartsickness thick between his breaths: âbarely a moment,â and his breath is short, thin, like the thought of leaving hurts.
And SteveâŠSteve has been in love for the first time, with the perfect match to his very soul. Unthinkable, but undeniable.
But it hasnât made him wholly blind.
He means to press, to see if the slight little inklings heâs had every so often hold any weight, point in any direction of significance, means to ask just a simple thing, but then Eddieâs expression breaks open, a miasma of emotion spilling forth as his breath catches, monumental on a sob and he takes the hands at his lips and instead uses them to bury his face.
âOh, my Steve,â he breathes, and all Steve can really see are the heaving lifts of his shoulders, and the way his curls fall a little like a monsoon.
âI am sorry,â Eddie whispers into Steve hands and Steve feels dampness there, and oh. No.
Not from Eddie. Not for whatever this is. Steve can think of nothing, save Eddie leaving for good before the end, that he should be moved to apologize for. And even that Steve would forgive.
Because Steve loves him.
âWhy?â Steve asks, incredulous, his own half-formed ideas to seek to know gone at the sight of his beloved in distress. âWhat reason on earth do you have to be sorry, you said,â and Steve halts, wonders if thatâs the catch, and tries not to falter without reason, tries to stand tall: âonly a moment,â and that is what Eddie said, he said only aâ
âI lied.â
Steve does to falter.
He starts to fracture and fall entirely. Because what, what all was a lie, was it all a lie, heâ
He doesnât know if he can breathe. Heâs never lost his heart before. But he imagines that if death is still waiting for him, and heâll face it alone: itâs what heâd planed for. What heâs prepared for from the start.
He knows how to be alone. It has to hurt less, than losing his heart now.
It will have to hurt less, at the very end, if it comes to him without a heart in his breast.
âIt was worth every second, no matter that it must end, in joy or heartbreak,â Steve finds himself saying, and if his tone rings hollow, itâs only because his heartâs already leaking from him, already half-gone: he means it with every bit he has left, nonetheless.
âYou are the moon, pulling me close,â he turns his hands so his palms line to Eddieâs; âthe sun wrapping me in warmth,â and he folds their fingers together, clutches tight one last time, greedy as anything:
âYou have been the greatest gift at the end of all Iâll ever know.â And that is the truth, that is the last words and final rites written on his bones. âBecause of you, I will die fulfilled in ways I didnât realize I was lacking.â
And then thereâs just one thing, because Steve, Steve needs to say this part, he doesnât think heâs said this part yet:
âThank you.â
He means it.
But Eddie only holds onto him harder, painfully but itâs perfection; only shakes his head over and over before he finally rasps, barely audible:
âYou misunderstand.â
Steve leans closer to hear him, to feel him, to know his warmth in the lat moments that might be left. He wants to understand. He doesnât want the end to be anything but clear.
Even if it hurts.
âI have lied,â Eddie swallows hard; âbut you misunderstand for what.â
SteveâŠstill misunderstands.
âYou have been my moon,â Eddie nearly moans, his head nuzzling into Steveâs hands, his hold, with nothing short of desperation:âyou have been the sun since the first revelation when I was taught as barely a hatchling that my kind were born of suns, made from fire.â
And that. Itâs been those small things: some dragon. Not owed. No dragon would find him unworthy.
The ego to presume.
This is no longer a small thing, spoken now.
âYou stole my heart straight away, and I gave it freely but,â Eddie hiccups the slightest bit; âI only grow in relishing that of all the souls in all the worlds, yours has welcomed mine,â and he sniffles, by every god and power in all the worldsâ
âYou are a privilege.â
And oh, oh, but by every god and power: Steve loves him.
âAnd you have a dragonâs heart now, no matter how you choose to use it, to keep or reject it,â foolish words Eddie speaks so messy, so rushed and ragged, so ripped out from him visceral and slick with feeling: âand your end will be my end,â and his lips brush Steveâs hands, kiss the pulse on both his wrists:
âAnd either that will be unmeasurable ages hence,â and his breath catches, and Steve only wants for him to look up, just look up, because heâs said it without saying now, hasnât he, muddled and frantic and so human, to say heâs anything but as he admits to the thing he thinks he needs to offer apology for.
âOr,â he trips over the next words, but theyâre so sodden with candor, the blood in his veins:
âOr my heart may turn ash if you leave but,â and he brings the heels of both Steveâs hands to his mouth and kisses, speaks into them worshipfully:
âYour life will go on as a mortalâs, once Iâveââ
âYouâve given your heart?â
Because Steve had suspicions. Of why Eddie said certain things, certain ways. How warm he was. How strong and even andâŠancient the beating of his heart resonated beneath Steveâs ear, his touch, like it radiated heat as a sun in itself.
âOf course,â Eddieâs head snaps up, like heâs offended at any suggestion to the contrary; âalmost immediately.â
He blinks; he forgets himself. Thereâs a lid to his starburst eyes that closes unlike Steveâs, the opposite direction, almost invisible.
But Steveâs watching. Steve doesnât blink once, cannot miss this.
Cannot pause what he writes into his bones because even if he plans for nothing less than ages unmeasurable, now, he wants this written on the bones that come in the end.
Whenever the end stretches out to.
âAnd if itâs ill received,â Steve asks slowly, his brows pinching as he picks through the implications of this part: âyouââ
âWither, slowly,â Eddie says, far too matter-of-fact for Steveâs liking, or willingness to stand: âbut the end comes, yes.â
âEddie,â Steve scolds, and Eddie flinches, thinks heâs been caught, been known and revealed now and in so being is anything but wanted with all of Steveâs being.
There is a tiny part of Steve thatâs grateful for his foolishness: it makes Steve feel less alone, to be swept so by a love this vast.
âYou are the dearest treasure Iâve ever known,â Eddie whispers, but itâs a pleading thing, something even Steve can tell doesnât feel as if it had a hope to grasp; âif you let me keep you I would hold you closer than all things. To give a dragonâs heart means to place whatever holds it closer than the heart itself ever learned to rest on its own,â and Eddie gathers Steveâs hands again to his chest, stacks them, presses so very hard.
The life in him is a sobering thing. The idea that Steve holds this power somehow in his hands, literally and otherwise, isâŠstaggering.
No less then amazing.
âYou are my single desire, but more,â Eddie breathes; âyou are my single care, my sole concern,â âmy only.â
âWhy do you leave, then?â
And Eddie stills. Pulls back only so much as to weigh what he sees in Steveâs face, Steveâs eyesâwhat Steve sees in his is clear: Eddie didnât think heâd get to this part. He thought Steve would balk at learning his lover was something more than mere human.
Specifics aside, Steve could have told anyone that from the night that they met.
And so Eddie, bowled over by the shock of the fact that Steve still holds to him, does not waver, seems to speak unvarnished when he answers:
âThe things you have shared,â and Steve knows without expansion what Eddie means: tales of home, of his family, of his parents, of how he came to be here, pledged as sacrifice for the good of his town, whispered in the dark as they watched the stars move slow; âI can bear it no longer, my darling.â
And Eddie straightens further then, and Steve sees what he dismissed as the play of the light: the glow in Eddieâs eyes unmistakable as something other, something from within.
âI demand the most valued,â Eddieâs words come out in a hiss, shape even as he hesitates, leaves every moment for Steve to pull away should his touch be unwanted as he reaches to brush Steveâs hair from his face.
âYou are that and more to me and yet,â and he shakes his head, and itâs so strange still to be marveled at this way: unbridled and unashamed.
âYou said it yourself, valuable,â Eddie nearly spits the word, like a poison he seeks to eke out; âand yet I believe that I said something different.â
Steve frowns, tries to put together the pieces but then his face is framed in long fingers that span the whole of him, fittingly so, as Eddie looks deed in his eyes and says with force and feeling:
âValued,â he emphasizes with a kiss; âbeloved,â and another, and Steve cannot help but smile into it just the slightest bit, his heart soaring as the other piecesâborrowed time and impending ends and forevers in view all at once rearranging into what he thinks might be an always with this man whoâs more than a man when he speaks against Steveâs mouth:
âPrecious beyond all else and others.â
He pulls back, and marvels more, then narrows his eyes in a way Steveâs never seen, pupils contracting inward from the sides into slits.
âYou are mine,â Eddie growls; âbut the demands we make are not idle, and they did not value you as you deserved,â Eddie scowls, and Steve sees it now, where heâs going, what heâs doing:
âAnd they thought it acceptable to send you to me as their most valued, believing they sent you to your death?â Eddie seethes:
âIt cannot go unpunished.â
SteveâŠsees it. Understands, now.
It does not hurt, the idea of losing people who were family only in name, especially not to the man before him, who is all that family should mean, could mean, will mean.
Always, now.
âThe villagers are innocents, please,â Steve whispers, and Eddie cups his cheek, so lovingly it aches.
âFret not,â he says with that warmth that Steveâs melted in from the very start; âI know who deserves my ire.â His expression sours, hardens:
âAnd they will know their hard-earned consequences.â
Eddie kisses Steve with a kind of devotion bigger than the sky somehow, and itâs only because Steveâs reeling to get his footing back that he trails behind Eddie and not at his side as he makes to depart.
âPlease do not follow me, beloved,â he calls over his shoulder, not breaking his pace; âI do not wish you to see-â
âI will stay,â Steve answers, like the words were waiting on this tongue of this very moment: âif.â
Eddie stills; turns.
âIf?â
âYou promise to return with all haste,â Steve reaches him quick and is the one who kisses with all that he knows, all that he can imagine, all that he holds inside of himself and shares already with Eddie uninhibited; âI will be cold without you.â
And that makes Eddie soften; smile as he promises:
âDone.â
âAnd,â Steve adds, pulling away from Eddieâs lips to look him straight on as Eddieâs brow quirks in question:
âAnd?â
âChange for me.â
And Eddie, for once, is wholly dumbfounded. Speechless.
Itâs quite a feat to behold.
âYou,â he stammers; âyou wish to see,â he shakes his head, disbelieving; âbeloved, it is not, I am,â and oh, oh: Steve did not expect this part: âwe are cast as fearsome creatures for good reason.â
He is wary. He is cautious. He thinks himself the monster. He wants to hide this part from Steve.
But Steve will have nothing hidden between them, least of all this: the whole of who his love is.
âI do not fear you, I could not,â Steve pledges in truth; âand any creature with your heart, who has captured my soul,â Steve grabs Eddieâs shoulders and draws him in, bows those foreheads into one another:
âYou could never be anything short of exquisite. Breathtakingly so.â
Eddies breathing is hitched, stuttering. Steve wants to cry for the way he is surprised. Wants to mourn for whatever hurt him to make him this cautious, this stunned by Steveâs love: unconditional.
Undying, now that itâs possible to give as such, and in truth.
And Steve waits, watches him, stares patient until Eddie sighs deeply, steps back far and then closes his eyes andâŠbecomes.
Larger, of course. The wings are a feat. The talons are less a surprise from his spindly fingers.
Heâs, he isâŠ
âYou are,â Steve reaches, waits until Eddie comes to him, welcomes his touch this way and to feel him, smooth scale not so unlike the chest bare against him in the nightâwarmth and safety and all that is right:
âMagnificent. And I would know you,â Steve tells him, seeks his gaze as he speaks from the very core of his being: âeven if I hadnât seen it for myself.â
He steps closer, waits for Eddie to be curious enough to bow his head low so Steve can mimic how theyâd stood, forehead pressed just moments before.
âThese unfathomable eyes,â he whispers between them, and smiles at how those eyes fall closed in something like relief, like comfort after laying down a heavy burden as Steve reaches for the soft underbelly in lighter scales against the charcoal of the rest of his belovedâs form:
âThe might of this heart,â and he presses, and yes, exactly as he knew heâd find: thunderous. Could part seas, reshape the globe, stir the stars.
And itâs Steveâs. So he doesnât hesitate to press his lips above the breathing and breathe out:
âUnmistakable, my darling.â
When he pulls back those eyes truly are just the same: they wonder. They marvel.
At Steve. Just Steve.
Itâs intoxicating.
âDo what must be done,â Steve nuzzles at the side of Eddieâs face, pulls his snout to his shoulder so he can kiss at what he supposes is something of a cheek, and then he pulls back, lets go.
But only their bodies. Nothing more. Never anything more. Not ever again.
âThen come home to me.â
Steve could be wrong, or just wishful, but he thinks Eddie glows from within through the whole of himself, and not just his eyes, as he takes flight and shoots like the star Steve always saw inside him, up into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~
Itâs not long. Itâs just as Eddie promised.
After everything, Steve hadnât worried at all that it would be anything else.
âIt was painless,â is what Eddie says as he walks back into the cave, a man again; âand it was for the sake of justice overdue,â as if he must explain. Or seek forgiveness.
Steve pulls him in and kisses him until heâs breathless as an answer for both concerns.
âWhat now?â he canât help but ask. He is still more in love than he can breathe through. Will live and die exactly that way for time innumerable.
âYou wish to be here, with me?â Eddie asks, almost hesitant; seeking.âYou do not feel indebted, or, or coerced? Or tricked or held by force orââ
Steve grins at the babbling, the nervous rambles. To think theyâre because of him.
It might just give him an absolutely unbearable ego of his own if itâs to be the norm forevermore.
âLove,â Steve presses a single raised finger to the missile of Eddieâs lips, watches as he adorable crosses his eyes to follow its trajectory.
âYou are all that I have imagined and never thought to find.â And it really is as simple and as unthinkable as that, in the end. Or the beginning. âThe only way I would be anywhere but your side is to be torn from it, or sent away.â
Eddie growls at the first suggestion, and huffs in pure offense at the suggestion of the second as he reaches and pulls Steve flush to his body: warm, warm, warm.
Steveâs heart flutters against him, reminding him that he owns it wholly.
Eddieâs drums in protective answer, welcoming as much as seeking to leap into Steveâs chest on the same promise, the same pledge as he murmurs into Steveâs lips:
âYou still misestimate what it means to be loved by a dragon,â and drags his mouth against Steveâs bottom lips, a little wanton even as his words carry the weight of the universe entire:
âThis,â and he clutches Steveâs closer still, so as to not be mistaken; âis for as much of eternity as is for us to grasp.â
It is not sacrifice at all to kiss the man, to love the dragon, in front of him, now.
And for the rest of time ahead.
For @a-little-unsteddie, who requested the quote 'Magic' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST
âšpermanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher
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đ« ao3 link here
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#hurt/comfort#love at first sight#physical affection#fantasy au#dragon au#true love#dragon-sacrifice!steve harrington#random-guy-in-the-woods!eddie munson#because of course Steve falls hard for the rando he meets right before he's about to get eaten by a dragon!#CLASSIC steve!#dragon hearts#mythical creature eddie munson#dragon eddie munson#happy ending#stranger things#gift fic#a-little-unsteddie#hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest#hitlikehammers v words#hitlikehammers writes
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I love you?| Tim Drake X Reader
Tim Drake X Reader
â How can you mourn someone you never truly knew?
AU: None Rating: SFW
Note: Check out this post for context! Tim is a bit of a stalker, but he always has been so its in character. ________________________________
The first thing Tim ever did after meeting you was run a background check.
It had become second nature at that point. A habit he picked up when he was younger that just stuck. Tim had an obsessive personality, so it was a natural habit- or maybe he forced this habit on himself. He's always been one to bite off more than he can chew and then force himself too sallow.
You checked all the boxes. Funny, beautiful, nice to be around, easy to get along with, clean background, you could handle yourself in a fight. You told him you took self defense classes which made sense in Gotham- and had a promising future. Everything a Wayne would be expected to look for in a partner.
It was a bonus that you had a crush on him. It made it easy.
Tim Drake, the smart and handsome boy in your class. It was natural that when he asked you to go out with him, you'd say yes.
Tim was a pretty calculated person, because of his... nighttime activities he had also gotten into the habit of never allowing much room for error. He planned ahead to even minor details.
It was because of all these things you and Tim began your relationship.
âWe had a date⊠Weâre are you?â Another reason you and Tim stayed together. You were unbelievably patient. He saw it when he came rushing into the nice restaurant he booked for the two of you- regular clothes and a hastily bought slightly ruined bouquet. All while you sat in a nice dress, a half eaten meal in front of you. You werenât the type to blow up and get upset, you kept your feelings inside and that worked for him.
Funnily- err, no⊠horribly enough, Tim never told you why he was late for every other date. Instead he choose a simpler much easier route. âIâm sorry, I couldnât find my keys.â
It worked because no matter how shallow or hard to believe the lies were⊠you took them. Took them and smiled while you tried to forget about it and enjoy the rest of the night with your boyfriend.
Often it felt like going through the motions with you. Youâd smile and enjoy the time you spent with the boy and then wave him goodbye. Being with Tim⊠it felt so surface level. It felt lonely⊠Gifts were used as an excuse to not spend real⊠physical time with you. So, youâd just smile at the flowers you got at your door and the teddy bear, even if they were stereotypical nonpersonal things to give a partner.
While you didnât know If you loved your own boyfriend, you knew you admired him. You admired how he kept himself in shape despite how busy he was, how he managed all his work with the side projects he kept up with- how he juggled his family. All of it. You admired how he seemed to work for what he had.
You admired how he always seemed so tired. Too tired to properly hide the aspects he didn't want you to see. But you chose to not see them. Not let him know you saw through it. Not giving anything away he didn't want.
Still, all those things kept him so⊠distant. Like a wall being put up in front of you, hiding him away.
Would it be clingy to tell him to call more?
He was already so busy; how did he juggle you with his life? It seemed hard. At times you thought he was cheating on you but with how public he and you were⊠it was a fleeting thought. Did Tim even enjoy the time you two did have together?
Youâd often question your relationship with the Wayne boy.
You questioned a lot of things. Some youâd question only later. Later when you awoke from the coma that⊠that monster put you in.
But before that... before any of that. âCatwomen got your tongue?â Youâd giggle and poke the boy's shoulder. He was definitely upset today; you'd blame the lack of sleep- he blames your curiosity. âHey, talk to me..?â
âIâm sorry, Iâm kind of busy right now.â He frowned slapping your hand your touch away and you could only pout to hide the hurt in your chest.
.
.
The first time Tim held you hand your cheeks hurt from smiling.
.
.
The worst part of everything to Tim. He didn't even know if he did love you.
There was exactly ten times Tim wished he told you it. Once he did, mostly to get you off his back. Did that make him a horrible person?
He liked you. He liked how easy you were. He liked how you trusted him. He liked how you let him lie to you. He liked how your felt against him, how you would get up to get him another energy drink instead of nagging him about his health. Not that you weren't concerned about the amount of caffeine he consumed you had been clear you were...
He liked when he was a little more careless, having you against him while he typed away on his computer. You holding his drink for him, head on his shoulder, just tired enough to not see what he was really working on. he thought at least... He liked having you against him when he got back... When he saw you again he liked having you around. He enjoyed feeling you against him, your skin on his... Hold you close and just... feel. Feel your body heat against his when he'd get back from patrolling those cold Gotham nights. Rip that same old suit off and climb into bed, embrace that skin to skin contact he so easily grew addicted too.
It was a funny joke with Gothamites that Tim Drake, the son of Bruce Wayne was a coffee addict. Tim had an obsessive personality, so it wasn't out of character. Every post with him in it had a mug, which never helped with the so-called rumors.
As he scrolled on his phone, he didn't even notice the mugs slowly disappearing. Instead, you were on his arm in every photo... Huh...
He didn't know if he loved you. He probably never would anymore... He probably didn't. I mean, what kind of man scrolls on his phone while holding the hand of their supposed lover? Especially when you were hooked up to wires...
But, it hurt too look at you. See you in that state. Not knowing if you'd wake up. The ache in his chest... It lessened when he adverted his eyes and stared at his phone.
If his touch was the sun, you were the earth. If he was your sun, that meant he failed you. When the sun combusts, the earth will die, and the sun combusted, broke under the pleasure.
He should've been a better boyfriend...
If he was, he would have at least known what kind of flowers to bring you...
Roses... felt too basic. To... impersonal.
___________________________________________
A/N: I hate hate hate hate my writing! Bleh. This all felt tooooo flat.
#tim drake x reader angst#tim x reader#tim drake x fem!reader#tim drake x reader#tim drake x you#dc comics x reader#x reader
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Spoilt Rotten
Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader
Word count: 1127
My Masterlist :)
..................................................
The sound of wrapping paper crinkling caught your attention as soon as you stepped into the living room. There it was againâa package. Big and bold, the box sat atop your coffee table, tied with a ribbon that probably cost more than your weekly grocery bill.
You sighed heavily, already knowing what this meant. KK had done it again.
It wasnât like she meant to overwhelm you, but it seemed like every time you mentioned something, even in passing, KK found a way to get it for you. Whether it was a bag you admired while scrolling online, a pair of shoes you tried on once, or even a limited edition gadget that you could easily live withoutâKK made it her mission to track it down.
And here it was. Another luxury gift.
With a heavy heart, you stepped closer to the box, trying to fight off the small flicker of excitement. Of course, you wanted to see what was inside. KK always had impeccable taste, and deep down, it made you feel special that she cared enough to remember the things you liked. But it was still too much, too often.
You couldnât shake the thought: How much did this cost her?
Sighing, you sat on the couch, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the package. You didnât need this. You didnât ask for this. But KK? She never listened when it came to gifts.Â
Right on cue, the front door opened. KK strolled in with her usual confident energy, her presence filling the room as soon as she walked through the door. She was beautifulâ an athletic build, with sharp features softened only by her easygoing smile. She carried herself like someone who could handle anything life threw at her, and when it came to you, she treated you like a queen.
"Hey, babe," she called, her voice lilting with amusement as she saw you sitting on the couch, your eyes on the package. "You seen it?"
"Of course I saw it," you said, shaking your head. "KK, seriously? I told you I donât need all this stuff."
KK grinned, not at all fazed by your exasperation. She slipped off her jacket and walked over, sitting beside you. "But you want it, donât you?"
You groaned softly, leaning back against the cushions. "Thatâs not the point. Itâs expensive. I donât want you spending all your money on things I donât need."
KK leaned in closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with the kind of gentleness that always made your heart flutter. "You deserve nice things. Whatâs the harm in that?"
You stared at her, feeling the familiar tug between guilt and affection. KK had always been this wayâgenerous to a fault, especially when it came to you. It wasnât about showing off or proving something; she just genuinely enjoyed spoiling you. It was her love language, but sometimes it made you feel like you couldnât keep up.Â
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully as she reached out to tug the ribbon loose on the box. "Arenât you curious?"
âKKâŠâ
âJust open it. I promise itâs something small this time.â
You raised an eyebrow, knowing she was probably lying. But the sparkle in her eyes made it hard to say no. So, with a reluctant sigh, you started peeling away the wrapping paper, half dreading and half excited about what youâd find inside.
Your fingers hesitated as the box revealed its contents. Inside, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, was the designer purse you had admired months agoâa limited-edition piece from a luxury brand you could never justify buying for yourself.
âOh my goshâŠâ you breathed, your hands lightly grazing the buttery leather. It was even more beautiful up close, the detailing intricate, the quality undeniable. You looked up at KK, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and guilt. âYou remembered this?â
KKâs grin softened into something more genuine, a flicker of pride in her eyes. âOf course I did. You couldnât stop talking about it for days.â
You swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at you again. âBut this must have cost a fortune, KK. You really didnât have toâŠâ
âI wanted to.â Her voice was firm but kind, her hand coming up to rest on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. âI donât care about the price, babe. I just want you to have the things that make you happy. You work so hard, and you never let yourself have nice things. So Iâll do it for you.â
You felt a lump form in your throat, emotions swirling inside you. KK always made it sound so simple, but the truth was, it wasnât easy for you to accept this kind of generosity. It felt unfair, like you werenât pulling your weight in the relationship.
âI donât want you to think you have to buy me things to make me happy, though,â you said softly, placing the purse back in the box. âI already have everything I need with you.â
KKâs eyes softened, and she leaned in closer, her arm wrapping around your shoulders as she pulled you into her side. âI know that, love. But itâs not about having to buy it. Itâs just⊠my way of showing you how much I care. If something makes you smile, then itâs worth it to me. You donât have to feel bad about it.â
You rested your head against her shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. KK had this way of making you feel safe and loved, even when your thoughts were tangled up in guilt. She was so confident, so sure of herselfâand, more importantly, of her love for you.Â
After a long pause, you sighed, letting the tension drain out of you. âYouâre too good to me, you know that?â
KK chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. âYou deserve it, baby.â
You couldnât help but smile at her confidence, at the way she always made you feel like the centre of her universe. âJust⊠maybe next time, talk to me before you go spending crazy amounts of money?â
KK raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing. âWeâll see.â
You gave her a playful nudge, and she laughed, wrapping you tighter in her embrace. Even though you knew KK wasnât going to change anytime soon, part of you was okay with that. She was stubborn, but her love for you was unshakable. And, in the end, that was worth more than any gift she could ever buy.
As you leaned back into her, the two of you relaxing in each otherâs presence, you realised that maybe being spoilt wasnât so bad after allâespecially when it came from someone like KK.
...........................................................................
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Inspiration
Ruby:Yo-yo?
Carmine:Hmm?
Ruby:Ren told me you paid a visit to him for some training. Said you did pretty good.
Carmine:Not really. Stances were okay but aura manipulation is weird. Probably wonât rely on it too much.
Ruby:Seems like youâre drawing inspiration from everyone you can. If that the case, I have something for you.
The reapers reveals a long weaponâs case. She puts in the ground in front of her daughter and taps it with her foot, causing it to open up. Two curved blades lay brightly inside. Their detail is so intricate in the engravings and design. Itâs obvious theyâre meant to combine. Carmine picks them up to find they have little heft to them but are drastically lighter than her own sword. She might as well be holding nothing.
Carmine:Wow, these are crazy looking. Not necessarily my style but I can see how they could be useful.
Ruby:Theyâre what Cinder uses.
Carmine:âŠâŠ.What? How did y-
Ruby:These are replicas I made and trust me when I say theyâre identical. If you put them together then it can fire arrows.
Carmine:Why would you ever make these?
Ruby:Because, my little huntress, I can be as petty and spiteful as anyone else when pushed far enough. Use these on patrol and missions for the next month; study them well. Utility, movement, reach, all that you can.
Carmine:âKnow thy enemyâ right? I have to admit, I wasnât expecting this from you considering our differing views on how to handle the situation.
Ruby:I made a vow to you the day you were born that I will be a mom before a huntress when it came to making sure my family was safe. I still plan on finding and taking out Cinder myself, but if for some reason you find her first or she finds you, then by all means, give her every layer of hell you can.
Carmine:I donât suppose youâve made me a parasol blade too?
Ruby:If only thatâs all it took to learn Neoâs moves. I mean this, just avoid her. Sheâs at least a three person job and two of them need to hate her.
Carmine:Heh, okay then. Mind if we go a few rounds then?
Ruby:âŠItâs better if you ask Ren?
Carmine:Câmon. I know you donât like training me but-
Ruby:No, it not that. I justâŠI might go too hard if youâre using those.
Carmine:So? Honestly youâd be doing me a favor. Everyone always talks about how intense you can get, all the stories of your passion and hardcore moments. I donât get to see that. I actually feel weird for never seeing you angry. I get angry all the time!
Ruby:Sweetie, what kind of a parent would I be if I took out repressed rage on my child in a sparring match?
Carmine:âŠBetter than Raven. Better than your mom too.
Ruby:!? Wha-
Carmine:I think youâre pretty cool, despite everything thatâs happened. We always try to our feelings out but honestly it never really works well. I get youâre trying to be an example, but itâs okay if normal being a mom doesnât come as naturally as a huntress. Mix both. I donât care. I kinda need both. I mean if I can survive you then Cinder would be easier by comparison. PlusâŠitâs not like I could stop myself from swinging at you seriously either.
Ruby:Did you..are you saying I piss you off?
Carmine:Youâre my mom. Every daughter gets pissed at their mom.
Ruby:Thatâs notâŠinaccurate. Sigh Are we really doing this?
Carmine:Are my eyes silver? *points blade out* Well, Mrs. Hero? Show me why Cinder is too chicken face you head on!
Ruby:Fine, but name a restaurant first. You may think I prefer being huntsman 24/7 but Iâd like to have some regular quality time with my daughter after this.
Carmine:Hmmm, how about your home cooking?
Ruby:âŠ*smiles* Deal.
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Street by Street- Laufey
Hwang Hyunjin with Street by Street from Laufey for the fall series
Genre: Angst, somewhat hurt/comfort?
Warnings: crying, nothing rlly
Wordcount: 1k
Fall series masterlist
a/n: this song requested by my pookie @skyberrybahng. Here we go with hyunnn, lemme know how yall like it, i dunno exactly how i went with this one. but yesss, have a cozy fall! <33
not proofread
âIâm taking back my city, taking back my life.â
Yes thatâs what youâd do now.
After your and hyunjinâs breakup you avoided him in the best ways possible. If you had to go grocery shopping youâd drive to the other end of the town, and for work you only took your car. And besides that, you didnât go out at all. Since hyunjin was only living two streets from you the possibility to meet him was just too big.
 It wasnât that you two broke up in such a awful state that it was super traumatic. But that was the thing that made it so horrible for you. You saw it coming weeks before, everything slowly breaking. When heâd call you clingy and annoying for the smallest things, when heâd not make any time for you anymore, or snap at you also if you didnât do anything wrong. Until it just reached the point where your relationship seemed to be nothing more than a burden to the both of you. So at the end it was mostly just agreeing to being not a couple anymore. He wasnât able to deal with his life, so he let it out on you, and you were hurting because of the way your relationship was going.  You knew it could have ended way worse, and other people would be relieved that the break up was without much anger and fighting at the end. But as i said, that was exactly what hurt the most for you. Months of hurt and misunderstandings, that maybe could have been fixed with a long, calm talk, but instead just led to a numb break up.
You knew you couldnât keep living like this. Doing everything to avoid hyunjin, totally minimizing your social life. And for some reason you woke up today, and wanted to change this lifestyle. After all you couldnât be a social wreck just because of a man, that wasnât even a part of your life anymore. So you picked out your clothes, and then headed out for work. It wasnât far away from your apartment but it was the first time you were walking since the breakup.
The streets were holding painful memories. The little cafe you worked in when hyunjin and you first met, the bookshop where you had your first book date with him when it started to rain all of a sudden. You remembered every little detail. His cute dumpling laugther making the rainy day brighter, the books he was reading to you, and how he slowly brushed his fingers through your hair, your head on his lap, when you were telling him some of your favorite quotes. But that was at the start. Way before everything started to crumble.
You pierced your gaze away from the window of the bookshop, slowly going your way again. Everything in this little town was reminding you of him in some sort of way. The park you used to have picnics together. The convience store you always went to with him. The cinema where you started crying because of a sad movie, and how he then just scooped you into his arms and comforted you as if something tragical happened. But that was probably what you needed. You had to remind yourself first that all this was in the past, to let go. You wouldnât regret any of these times with him. But you wouldnât regret the break up either. You always knew that heâd move on before youâd do. He was just like this, and you would be lying if youâd say you didnât stalk him a bit after it ended. He seemed happy. Often heâd be in instagram stories of his friends, on parties or random hangouts. It always stung in your heart. But you saw clearer now. He moved on, and you would do this now too. This town wasnât just his. And you would make him know now.
Later that day, felix, one of hyunjinâs close friends texted you something about how he saw him making out with another girl at a party and he felt the need to tell you or something. For a second you thought about just blocking him, but felix was always a nice guy, always being kind to you. So you just thanked him and said bye.
 And if you were being honest? You could almost thank hyunjin for that, because that was what you needed to finally move on. Youâd been sitting at home all day, except when you were at work, since the break up, pushing the knife only deeper by yourself, in never ending self pity the last months. But now, this last little push from him, was all it took. You ripped the knife out, and now, you would heal. That was the promise you gave yourself.
 And later when hyunjin would pass by you on the streeet with the girl on his arm, youâd just greet him with a bittersweet hello, and walk by. How you would probably do it with every other person on the street. You saw exactly that he had a guilty look on his face, and that the girl was a bit hesitant, but you just walked by. One month ago you would have gone home and broke down, but now it couldnât hurt you anymore. You were claiming back this city. And oh, not just this city. Also your life, that hyunjin seemed to take with him when you two fell apart. But you were taking it back, brick by brick, no matter what it costs.
And one day, he would be the one that would walk by you, with no one by his side, And heâd see a confident, happy woman, that didnât even seemed to notice him. And the grieve and pain that you now left behind you, would slowly catch up to him.He knew it was mostly his own fault it was like this now. But still, he wished he could cry in your arms, like he used to when he was frustrated. That youâd just come over and hold him until the storm in his mind and his heart would be calmer. But instead heâd go home, and sit in his apartment, that was suddenly way too silent and empty if youâd ask him.
taglist: @onementally-unstabel-kid @lina-linny @0omillo0 @darqlys
#skz#stray kids#stay#straykids#writing#stray kids fanfic#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#straykids hyunjin#stray kids hyunjin#stray kis hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin stray kids#hwang hyunjin skz#hwang hyunjin fluff#hyunjin fanfiction#hyunjin stray kids#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin skz#kpop#kpop bg#stray kids angst#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fluff#skz scenarios#skz x reader#skz stay
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Yeah, if it was going to be a broken timelines issue, it would make so much more sense for Five to be the reason they are broken in the first place. I wish we'd gone with that instead of... you know.
Then the subway existing has an actual point, because the inciting incident was when our Five (the original Five) time travelled for the first time. And they still have to sacrifice the current versions of themselves to fix that but it isn't all bleak and for nothing.
Reginald and Allison's world still ends because of the Cleanse or whatever, but that isn't where it ends.
Five transports them all to the subway and sits them down to explain what's going on. The constant, non-stop apocalypses aren't random: they're a symptom of the broken timelines. They're trying to repair themselves by ending the world because they were never supposed to exist in the first place.
Five gets to have his total breakdown over being the reason the world keeps ending, then Lila eventually proposes a way to try and fix things.
Cue to the Hargreeves having to try and find their original timeline, getting lost for some time and all that.
Diego and Lila work out their issues. Allison gets to address her entire S3 Thing. She apologises to Luther, and then they can maybe have a heart to heart about how Allison got Claire back, but it cost Luther his wife.
The six-year timeskip is explored in some more detail, revealing what they did after separating at the end of S3, the hardships they faced, how they reconnected and got to where they were when the season began.
So, they find the right timeline eventually. They step out into Five's apocalypse and travel back in time to the day he time-travelled for the first time. The plan is to convince him not to.
They don't know if this is going to work, but it's all that's left to try. If they do nothing, the apocalypses are just going to keep on happening regardless. They can keep running, but there will always be something world-ending right behind them.
So they wait for Five to run out of the academy, all of thirteen and about to ruin his life in a jump our Five has regretted since the day he made it. This time, they confront him before he jumps.
They convince him not to time travel, telling him exactly what it is this jump will lead to. Five doesn't soften the blow or mince words; he needs his past self not to time travel, to never use this facet of his powers again.
Time wasn't made to be messed with.
They succeed, Five's past self doesn't time travel. He blinks back inside, to his room presumably, because he's not about to face Reginald right now.
The Hargreeves all stand around for a moment, looking at the Academy, at each other. Eventually, Klaus nudges Five. They all turn around and leave, too.
They end up at a park, where they sit down, they talk, and as time passes, they start to feel it.
The future - their past - is being changed.
All of the offshoot timelines are being erased, and theirs might have been the first one, but it is still an offshoot. In changing the past, this version of Five is also no longer the original. We get an actual, heartfelt goodbye before they all go.
Next, we see Five and his siblings as young adults in the original, fixed timeline. They're all nineteen, and as we bounce around from one character to another, we see what they're up to:
Luther walks into a coffee shop. He orders something, and as the camera pans to show the person at the till, a French exchange student who looks a lot like Sloane is revealed to be taking his order.
We see a floor being mopped. It's Diego in a slightly bare-looking apartment, large cardboard boxes scattered all around while he listens to music and dances to it. He's clearly in the process of moving house, and Eudora is there to help him. Grace's cross stitch hangs on the wall.
Allison is at an audition. She looks excited and a little bit nervous, but mostly happy to be here. When her turn comes around, she is 100% ready for it.
Klaus, Five, and Ben are all doing their own thing. Five is attending a university lecture. Ben is alive. Viktor is seen playing the violin, using his powers.
Finally, Lila is at the airport, boarding a plane. She puts on a pair of headphones, and music starts blasting. Fade to black.
The narrator says his part about how on the eighth day of August 2024 absolutely nothing happened. It was a normal day. The end, credits roll etc. etc.
#tua#luther hargreeves#diego hargreeves#allison hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#five hargreeves#viktor hargreeves#ben hargreeves#lila pitts#I'm still so angry about how it ended#they deserved so much better#tua s4 (derogatory)#I just wanted them to talk and finally get something resembling a happy ending
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Wild Kratts - Salmander Streaming - Thoughts
Spoilers!!
I've a good feeling that this isn't actually a clip from a movie, but just something the animators whipped up. The fact that the animals running are in blue and green gives me the impression.
But also, the characters being able to stream movies makes me feel old.
If I had a nickel for every time a red squirrel fucked up high tech structure in this show, I'd have 2 nickels.
Also, how efficient are the tellurium crystals (which we saw earlier in the season premiere) are, if shit like THIS can render the turtle ship's power efficient??
Roll credits!
Also, this is the first of MANY moments in the episode that made me laugh unironically.
Martin, that is a fucking exoskeleton. I don't think I have to explain why that is incredibly gross (although it does make for an efficient boat).
Also, random fact: The largest crayfish on the planet has weighed up to 11 pounds. That's huge!
This is another thing about the episode that regularly comes up (and that many people have noticed). The animation is suprisingly fluid. I mean, not surprisingly, there were new riggers on board for the show, which likely explains why it took nearly 2 years for the new season to drop, but still. Screenshots alone do not do several scenes or shots (this included) justice when talking about how eye-catching or interesting the animation is.
I did not know that some salamander species were cannibalistic! This show always manages to teach me new things every day, even at the age of 18.
Am I the only one who is the tiniest bit miffed when they call it "the human fish" and not "the olm." I get that it's a nickname like "Wolf Hawks" but, it's not the only name. đđ
I feel like this is yet another moment where I should needlessly harp into the "lore" of Wild Kratts. Because she describes the suit as "universal" and as we see in the episode, the Salamander Power Suit can be reactivated based on species. So why didn't she do this with the Spider, or Wolf Suit. I'm 100% looking too much into this, but just saying.
Also, I really hope that a Universal Salamander Power Suit implies that we'll be getting an Axolotl episode and a Power Suit. I was kinda hoping we'd see some of them in this episode, but the potential is there!
There is DEFINITELY no way I could've done this joke justice using screenshots. You need to see it in video form to see my point. Because the joke was predictable in every sense of the word. I knew what the punchline was. I knew when the punchline was gonna hit. But because the animation was so fluid throughout the frames, and because of how detailed the shading and lighting were and how overtly obvious the punchline was because of the visuals, it still made me laugh my ass off. I legitimately had to look up if James Baxter (yes THAT James Baxter) worked on this episode because it reminded me of a lot of scenes he did for Steven Universe and Owl House. Was surprised to know that he wasn't, but regardless, whoever animated these episodes, whether veterans or newcomers, deserves their fucking raise.
I know that he's referring to the salamander, and yes, the joke has been made before, but like, if someone told you that there's an episode of Wild Kratts where they [by technicality] said the word "hell" *checks notes* twenty-four times in one episode, would you believe them? Yeah that's what I thought.
Also, indeed hellbenders are the largest salamander in North America, the third largest in the world. Adult healthy hellbenders have very few predators and that's because of how gigantic they are.
I used up my one-video free-card on a previous joke, but once again, it's so silly, you know what the joke/punchline is, yet it's presented in such a way that is still really humorous, either because of how it doesn't bring too much awareness to the fact that it's a joke, embraces said fact of it being a joke, or both. Complete with straight-up fucking Looney Tunes style anticts, it's just really fun.
Also, another thing I find funny is that the hellbender ate the crayfish exoskeleton. Like, would that even be tasty?
Spoilers, but Chris does NOT Activate Tiger Salamander Powers. Yes, I am also miffed.
They're so besties.
Ok but like I'm sensing a pattern where Martin activates a Creature Power Suit with Aviva whenever he's not activating it alone or with Chris. Which at first I didn't think much of, but then I realized. Blue is a component color to make up purple. So this occasional running theme/pattern could be a reference to how similar they are, and how both rely on each other in some fundamental way in their adventures, much like how the colors blue and purple are interconnected in a way. Am I looking too much into this as well? Yeah, but I actually enjoy it!
Ok not gonna lie, I actually liked the fourth-wall break. Mainly because they could've easily fucked it up badly by having it drag on for too long, or making it too meta, but quick cuts and gags like this make it all the more worthwhile. And unlike the Camel Chris gag in the camel episode, it sticks around once and doesn't wear out its welcome.
Also, the Salamander Suits were activated by touching a Hellbender, which we've established, is bigger than every other salamander shown in the episode.... so... why the fuck are they that tiny?? They should at least be way bigger than the rocks they're standing on.
Also, the Salamander Suits genuinely look like Dinosaur Suits. At least... from this angle.
-... because from THIS angle they look so. FUCKING. CUTE. I so badly want to hug them like plushies (now I'm even more disappointed that Chris wasn't in one of these)
How the fuck was this guy able to stuff a huge-ass butternut underneath his vest and shirt.
Also, Chris, you do realize that keeping squirrels from eating the nut is a good way to make them endangered as well? Bro is petty đ
I think this is the first time we've seen the Tortuga miniaturized by someone on the actual crew, not a villain or an accident.
As someone who didn't know or care that much for salamanders (at least in comparison to frogs and toads), this episode enlightened me a lot. I actually hope I do see a hellbender sometime in my life
CONCLUSION:
PROS:
The humor. Like, every single joke in this episode either got me to crack a grin, or laugh out loud
The animation. Once again, the animators have got their rent due. So many memorable facial expressions and cool color designs that just make it nice to look at.
The salamander species themselves.
CONS:
Chris definitely should've activated the Tiger Salamander Suit. Bro was robbed
No mention of Axolotls? The most well-known salamander in the world? For shame.
Final Ranking: 8/10. A nice slice of life mini-adventure with no huge or real stakes, but overall a pretty fun romp. Before this episode came out, there were a lot of positive reviews of this episode on IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes, and while I generally take those with heaping grains of salt (because opinions are opinions at the end of the day), I definitely agree that this episode is fun. The very epitome of "camp."
#pbs kids#wild kratts#kratt brothers#martin kratt#chris kratt#pbs kids go#2d kratt brothers#2d martin kratt#2d chris kratt#wk#wk season 7#spoilers#opinions#review#Would totally recommend this episode to a causal newcomer of Wild Kratts because it has such a vibe that it would make a decent entry-point#also I didn't say much of it but Koki's subplot was nice#it was short but seeing her struggle to fix the Tortuga was very relatable and I liked how she got to save the day at the end#even if it was a low-stakes climax/throwaway joke at the end
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Introducing the Hades Devils to Your Plushies
The Hades Devils show up to your room for sex, however, being oblivious as hell to this fact you just start showing them your plushies!! Yeah decided to make more of these, I'm having fun with it! Notes: mildly sexual content, nothing too insane. Gender neutral reader! Leviathan and the other Kings found here
Foras
I'm gonna be honest he might already know every single detail about your plushies already.
But it's okay, because he'll let you talk anyway!
This man has everything about you that he learns memorized, he just adores you that much.
He listens to you ramble on with a soft smile on his face.
He just loves you so much! And everything about you that makes you you!
That being said sex is still gonna happen, it's what he was here for and it's what will take place.
And well, the possessiveness hits a little at the idea of being the only person who gets to see you like this. Sharing details about things so personal and special to you.
But either way, he can't help how soft he gets whenever he sees a smile on your face.
Barbatos
His sunshine! His sunflower! His beautiful bright light!
You shine so perfectly when you ramble on and on about your plushies how could he ever stop you from talking!
He has to shield his eyes you shine brighter than the sun when you beam like that!
He's practically hovering over you nonstop, staring at your face as close as he can get as you talk.
He loves it so much, though admittedly only small details stick in his head because he's so busy fawning over you that he's not paying 100% attention to the words coming out of your mouth.
But he can't help it!!! You're just so perfect!!!
Ultimately this is gonna lead to him praising you and kissing every part of your body, telling you how bright and beautiful you are.
He just can't help himself! He wants to keep this beautiful ray of light to himself always! And to have you in ways no one else can!
Glasyabolas
Sure he'll let you talk about them!
He does find it cute, even if the way he tells you that comes off in an extremely teasing tone to the point you're not quite sure if you believe he means that in a sweet way.
But yeah he'll let you talk about your plushies as much as you want!
Of course... he's gotta be getting something out of it.
So if his fingers are inside you prepping you for him while he lets you ramble, don't even worry about it!
Aw... you're struggling to say more? :c But why! He made time just for you to share these details to him, didn't he? Talk as much as you want! ... If you can, that is.
He remembers the details you tell him, however, he had so much fun he may "forget" just so he can repeat this.
Orias
Well. He can hold off on his plans a bit for a plushie party!!
Just for you <3
While I'm not sure how much he himself would have a bunch of plushies, he's definitely at least got one or two that he lets you place in your pile!
He adores it so much !! You're adorable!!
But hey.... he's still cuter than all your plushies.... right? Right?
Obviously the answer is yes but it's too late the jealousy took over him and now he's on top of you!
Very good at remembering the details you shared with him about your plushies <3
#what in hell is bad#whb#whb foras#whb orias#whb barbatos#whb glasyalabolas#whb x reader#what in hell is bad x reader#whb smut#what in hell is bad smut
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What do you think of the Gwynriels being too confident in their ship? Are you sure Az has feelings for Gwyn and is always looking for her and stuff? And what are they matte?
I have tried, really really tried, to see where theyâre coming from. Iâve re read the books multiple times to ensure Iâm not missing any context, Iâve looked at it through every angle possible and I still cannot fathom why they are so confident.
I have a couple of theories as to why theyâre so confident and Iâm feeling a little spicy today, so Iâll share. I could go in to heavy detail, but Iâll try keep it brief anon.
1. They hate Elain and so are looking for any other option. Literally anyone. G*yn happens to be in the bonus chapter and so they go with that, without really thinking about it* (I will circle back to this).
2. They blindly follow the word of one or two people online.They donât like Elain, or they love L*cien (and they totally miss all the clues that say L*cien doesnât actually want Elain but thatâs a whole other can of worms) and so they accept other peopleâs interpretations - which those people very intentionally present as fact, and use them as a jumping off point, so when they go back to the books they have that other persons narrative in their head that far better suits their ideals and so theyâre looking, twisting, turning any and all of the narrative to fit that. They are gaslighting themselves, basically.
3. They donât re read the books and they donât open themselves up to any other possibility. I can say for myself that before I started posting online about elriel, I had heard about G*riel after reading the books and re read them to be sure. Iâm nearly positive a lot of them donât do that, and either never re read or re read as per the second point.
As to the second part of this question, I donât believe heâs got feelings for G*yn, nor do I think heâs always looking for her - so, Iâm very sure of that. If you meant Elain, itâs pretty obviously laid out in the text, without SJM having Azriel and Elain say âIâM IN LOVE WITH HIM/HER AND I DONT CARE WHO KNOWS ITâ - because how does that make any sense when they havenât had their book? If they had, Iâd be less sure of their endgame.
As for the last part, Iâm going to assume youâre asking if I think either G*yn or Elain are mated to Azriel. I do not believe G*yn is Azriels mate. At all. There are a few signs that Az & Elain could be, but it truly doesnât matter to me if they are or not. I think SJM has been metaphorically winking at us with some of the things sheâs said about them but it could go a number of ways, in terms of wether theyâre mates or not.
One things for certain though - theyâre endgame â€ïž
* to circle back to them not really thinking about it, as I didnât want to bog down the main text with this, they donât seem to consider a number of different things.
They donât consider that itâs a limited bonus chapter that was only available for one specific book store. It is not available in the copies of ACOSF you can buy now, nor was it available in a huge number of copies you could buy at its initial release.
They donât seem to consider that if you remove the bonus chapter, we still have four books that include build up for them. It literally makes no odds as to wether the bonus matters or not. For them though? Most of their argument relies on that bonus chapter.
They donât seem to consider any other reason as to why G would be in that bonus chapter. None whatsoever. The Elain part was explicitly romantic and if you look at Gâs part there is no romanticism in sight. The âsparkâ happened after a conversation with Clotho, not even when G was present. Almost like G didnât actually have anything to do with it at all. If you connect the dots to the main text, at least for my interpretation, you have Elain & Az, who very clearly have feelings for one another. You have G, who has a powerful affect on Nesta, and Clotho who also has, to a smaller extent, a powerful affect on Nesta.
And those are just the few things off the top of my head that I have the bandwidth to come up with right now. â€ïž
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"I am a warrior, but maybe this is not my fight."
[WWDITS S6EP5 SPOILERS!!!]
Just finished episode 5, and you can bet your ass I have some shit to say. As it is something I've already discussed and like analyzing, I'll go on about the Nandermo situation for now, but I'd like to talk about other topics too, maybe in another post.
This episode was a rollercoaster, and I think all my worries are now at peace (at least the one regarding Nandor's growth). I imagined that Nandor was just about to throw another ginormous tantrum about the stupidest of the things, but I was positively surprised when I saw his attitude towards the situation: he honestly had valid reasons to be angry, reasons I didn't even think about at first, but they came to me as a slap in the face as Nandor spoke, as I can imagine they did to Guillermo. Obviously, the solution wasn't war, but I can see why he would react like this. He was a warrior, after all.
"You live a thousand years, and you think you know what betrail is, what horror is, but then, in a single instant, you find out you haven't the slightest idea of what men is truly capable of."
This is what he says. And although it seems so extravagant and exaggerated, his pain is real. He was so sure about Guillermo's loyalty, not because he expected it as a Master, but as a friend, as a companion, given that he has always been loyal to him: "I may have done a lot of things, Guillermo, but I never got rid of you". He's right when he says so, and honestly I, as probably Guillermo, never really realized how much has probably costed Nandor to protect Guillermo from the vampire world, how much he risked to keep him safe. He really has done a lot for him, and he also finally addresses his mistakes.
Nandor felt betrayed and this time I can do nothing but agree with him. Guillermo tries to justify it all saying that it's the "human world way", but Nandor was human too, and the type of loyalty he shared with his comrades he expected from Guillermo: this makes me understand how he really perceives him in his life. He feels bonded to him, and reserved fidelity to him; not always respect or recognition, but fidelity yes.
Still, I agree with Guillermo about some points. At first he sees the whole thing as another big absurdity came out from Nandor's neediness and I can't blame him for having been prejudiced (i was myself), but then he understands how hurt Nandor felt.
Although, as he said in the previous episode, maybe this thing between the two of them isn't meant to be: he now has a new purpose, and he invites Nandor to start healing and find a new one too.
"I am a warrior, but maybe this is not my fight" it's with this statement that Nandor finally aknowledges that he needs to let it go too. The relationship between them started with all the worst moves, and it can't go any further without continuing to inflict wounds to both of them.
When Nandor tells Guillermo to go away using Alexa, these lyrics are used: "get out, right now, it's the end of you and me", and I'm starting to think it could really be like it says. Maybe Nandermo will never happen, and maybe it's for the best. Still I keep my hope close, and I wish that all of this was just a big demolition to build a new foundation for a stronger and healthier relationship, but I won't bet too much on it.
This episode was a huge statement fr. I feel like I've left out so many details, but I guess if something comes up to my mind, I'll just post about it later. Also, I wrote all of this as fast as I could, so please forgive me if you've encountered some errors.
"When one is burned, one feels most at home among the ashes" said Nandor, and I think I'll do the same and go cry about this while re-watching the whole series đ.
#help?#wwdits#wwdits 6#what we do in the shadows#what we do in the shadows season 6#episode 5 spoilers#nandor x guillermo#nandermo#nandor the relentless#guillermo de la cruz#vampires#yapping
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Where Wolves Wonder (1/2)
- Summary: You and Jon were always close, but as the years went by and those feelings grew, your mother decided to put an end to it.Â
- Paring: stark!reader/Jon Snow
- Rating: Mild 13+
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround
The frosted breath of Winterfellâs courtyards felt sharp on your skin, yet you and Jon were unaffected as you shared quiet moments in the early mornings, wrapped in the whispers of the waking castle. As twins, you and Robb had always shared a close bond, but something about Jonâs presence grounded you in a way that felt⊠different. He was a mystery, dark-haired and solemn, so much unlike the rest of your family, and yet a steady presence, as constant as the winter snow itself.
âShouldnât you be sleeping?â Jon asked softly one morning, his voice barely audible as he leaned against the training yard wall. His eyes lingered on your face, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as you approached him. âOr did you come to see if Iâd frozen solid?â
You gave a soft laugh, shaking your head. âIf you froze, Iâd think you more of a fool than Iâd ever imagined, Jon Snow,â you teased, crossing your arms and mirroring his posture.
A faint chuckle escaped his lips, but there was something softer in his gazeâa look that lingered just a second too long, as if he were memorizing every detail of your face in the dim morning light. You felt a flutter, a warmth creeping into your cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. You had seen the way he looked at you before, the way his hand sometimes brushed yours just a second longer than necessary, and yet neither of you spoke about it.
âYou spend so much time with him these days,â Catelyn said one evening, catching you by surprise in one of the dimly lit hallways of Winterfell. Her tone was light, but her gaze sharp. She studied you carefully, and you forced yourself to meet her gaze, though you felt a pang of guilt.
âHeâs family,â you replied, hoping that the evenness in your voice would convince her.
âIs he?â she asked, her tone a touch more pointed. âHeâs your fatherâs son, yes, butâŠâ Her voice trailed off, eyes narrowing, her mouth pressed into a thin line. âJust⊠be mindful. Some bonds are best left at friendship.â Her words lingered, heavy with something unspoken, but you nodded politely, her warning pricking at your heart.
As the weeks wore on, however, it grew harder to heed her caution. You and Jon found yourselves slipping into shared conversations, hushed whispers in the darkened corners of the halls, or quiet moments near the Godswood. One evening, after a long day, you found yourself sitting beside him on a stone bench by the weirwood tree, your shoulders almost touching.
âY/N,â Jon said, his voice a quiet murmur, âDo you ever wonder⊠what it might be like, if things were different?â He didnât meet your gaze, his eyes fixed ahead, but you could see the tension in his face, a wariness that he couldnât quite mask.
âDifferentâŠ?â you asked, though your heart already knew where he was leading.
âIf⊠if I were truly one of you,â he said, his tone hesitant. âIf there wasnât⊠this distance between us.â
You placed a hand on his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his presence. âYou are one of us, Jon. And to me, thatâs all that matters,â you whispered.
The softness of your words hung in the air, your hand lingering in his, and Jonâs gaze softened, his expression vulnerable in a way youâd rarely seen.
But this moment was not yours alone.
Behind you, unbeknownst to either of you, stood your mother. Catelynâs gaze was fixed on you both, her expression unreadable, yet her hands were clenched tightly, her knuckles white.
It wasnât long before she confronted you, her voice tight with worry and unyielding resolve. âYou will not spend any more time with Jon. Youâre not to meet him in secret corners or dark hallways. Is that clear?â
You stared at her, heart pounding in your chest. âMother, heâs my brotherââ
âHe is not your brother,â she said firmly. âThere is a line, Y/N, one that you must not cross. He⊠he doesnât belong as we do, no matter how much your father thinks otherwise.â
Your heart sank, anger flashing in your eyes. âHow can you be so cold? Jonâs always been part of this family.â
Catelynâs expression didnât soften; instead, it seemed to harden. âIâm protecting you,â she said, voice laced with a hint of regret, though she pressed on. âOne day, youâll understand why.â
You turned on your heel, storming away, her words weighing heavily on you. But as the days passed, your motherâs warning settled into an insurmountable barrier, each glance shared with Jon feeling edged with longing and hesitation. Yet the ache in your chest never seemed to lessen.
Jonâs gaze found yours often in those fleeting moments across the halls, his silent question lingering between you both: What could have been, if only things were different?
The clank of steel and laughter echoed through the training yard of Winterfell. Robbâs hearty laugh boomed as he caught Theonâs playful shove, and even Jon managed a faint smile, though it was fleeting. Ever since Catelynâs orders to keep you away, he had grown quieter, his gaze darker, lost in thoughts that weighed heavily on his heart.
âGods, Jon, you look as if someone died,â Theon joked, leaning his practice sword against his shoulder. He gave Jon a once-over, his smirk widening as he took in Jonâs expression. âOr have you just realized that brooding doesnât make you look half as mysterious as you think?â
Jon shot Theon a warning look, but the Greyjoy only laughed, unfazed. Robb, however, glanced between them, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the anxiety coming to light on Jonâs face.
âLeave him be, Theon,â Robb said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice too. âMaybe heâs got a ghost haunting him.â He threw a look at Jon, his grin softer. âOr maybe heâs finally realized how much work it takes to keep up with me.â
Theon snorted. âMore like heâs mourning the loss of a certain shadow that used to follow him around.â His tone was casual, but his words hit close to the mark. âFunny, though, I havenât seen her lurking around you lately, Jon. Did she finally realize sheâs wasting her time?â
Jonâs jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he looked down, unwilling to let Theon see the flash of pain in his eyes. Your absence weighed on him like a chain around his neck, each day feeling colder without your warm, steady presence. He missed the quiet conversations in the Godswood, the way your laughter softened the edges of Winterfellâs grey stone. But Theon would never understand thatâheâd never understand how every second away from you felt like a punishment he didnât know how to bear.
Seeing Jonâs expression, Robbâs smile faded. He placed a hand on Jonâs shoulder, squeezing it. âCome on, Jon. Ignore him. You know Theon loves to rile people up.â
Jon forced a small smile, nodding, but he couldnât help the sigh that escaped him.
âAh, donât take it so seriously,â Theon added, still grinning but with a slight softness in his tone as he noticed the effect his words had on Jon. âJust a bit of jest, you know. Itâs not as if sheâs left Winterfell.â
Robb shot Theon a warning glare, but Jon cut him off. âShe might as well have,â he muttered, his voice so low they almost missed it. There was a rawness in his tone, a crack that neither Robb nor Theon had heard before.
Theon raised an eyebrow, finally catching on to just how deep Jonâs feelings ran. He let out a low whistle. âGods, you really do have it bad, donât you?â He crossed his arms, studying Jon with newfound curiosity. âI always thought you were just fond of her, but this⊠You look as if sheâs been sent off to the Wall.â
Robb shot him a warning look. âTheon, leave it,â he said, his voice firmer now.
But Jon didnât seem to hear either of them. He took a shaky breath, finally meeting Robbâs gaze. âI⊠I know what it must look like, Robb. And I know sheâs your sister. But⊠itâs like sheâs the only thing that makes sense here, the only person who looks at me like⊠like I belong.â His voice dropped, almost a whisper. âAnd now⊠I donât know what to do without her.â
The words spilled out before he could stop himself, and he immediately regretted them, looking down as if the ground might swallow him up. He hadnât meant to admit it, to say aloud the longing that had been festering inside him.
Robbâs expression softened, a glimmer of understanding crossing his face. He placed a hand on Jonâs shoulder, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. âYouâre not alone, Jon. No matter what my mother thinks. Iâll talk to her.â
Jon shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. âShe wonât listen, Robb. Your mother⊠sheâs right, in a way. I donât have the same claim, not like you. Iâm just⊠just a Snow.â
Robb shook his head, undeterred. âTo hell with names and claims. Youâre my brother, Jon. Nothing can change that.â
Theon, watching the exchange, sighed and rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smirk on his lips. âIf you two are done with your heartfelt confessions, thereâs still a swordfight to finish here. And if Jonâs too busy sighing over lost loves, then Iâll gladly take the win.â
Jonâs hand went to his sword, gripping it tighter, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked up at Theon. âYouâd have to earn it first, Greyjoy.â
And for a moment, the heaviness in his chest lightened as he lunged forward, a hint of his old spark returning. But even as he clashed with Theon, the ache of your absence remained, a shadow in his heart he couldnât shake.
Arya sat beside you, fidgeting with her needle and thread, a perpetual look of boredom on her face, while Sansa, across the table, was meticulously working on her embroidery, lips pressed in a prim line of concentration. The gentle murmur of fabric against fingers and the faint pricking of needles filled the air as you all sat in an attempt at focused silence.
But your thoughts were far from the fabric in your lap. No matter how much you tried to focus on the delicate stitch pattern, your mind kept slipping back to Jon. The look in his eyes when heâd seen you last lingered in your mind, the quiet sadness that he tried so hard to hide, masked behind his usual stoicism. Every stitch you tried to sew seemed to weave his name into the fabric, and you let out a soft sigh, pulling your needle free after yet another botched attempt.
âYouâre making a mess of that,â Arya muttered, noticing the snarl of threads as you tried to unknot your embroidery.
You gave her a small, exasperated smile. âYouâre one to talk,â you teased, nodding toward her own uneven stitches, which were scattered across the fabric with little care for pattern or design.
Arya grinned, undeterred. âAt least I donât pretend to like it,â she said, casting a sideways glance at Sansa, who pursed her lips.
Sansa looked up from her perfect row of flowers with a slightly disapproving frown. âItâs a ladyâs duty to learn needlework,â she said primly. âBesides, itâs better than⊠whatever it is youâre doing.â
Arya made a face, scrunching her nose. âIâd rather be sword fighting with Bran than doing this.â
Sansaâs expression softened a little as she turned to you. âYouâre distracted today,â she observed, her tone less judgmental than Aryaâs but still laced with curiosity. âYouâve been sighing at that fabric since we started. Is something on your mind?â
You bit your lip, hesitating. âItâs⊠nothing,â you said quietly, though your voice betrayed you, sounding uncertain. But both of your sisters were watching you now, their expressions expectant, and you felt compelled to offer them something. âItâs just⊠strange, I suppose, how things change without you even noticing.â
Arya frowned. âWhat things?â she asked, genuinely curious.
âFamily,â you said softly, almost to yourself. âSometimes, it feels like no matter how close we are⊠thereâs still a wall between us.â
Arya looked puzzled, her head tilted in thought. Sansa, however, seemed to understand, her gaze growing softer. âYou mean Jon,â she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
You stiffened slightly, glancing down at your embroidery. âMother has asked me not to spend time with him,â you admitted, forcing yourself to keep the tremble out of your voice. âShe says⊠that itâs best for everyone.â
Aryaâs face hardened. âThatâs not fair,â she said bluntly, scowling at the thought. âJonâs as much family as the rest of us.â
You managed a sad smile. âYes, but Mother⊠sees things differently. She thinks itâs better to⊠to keep us separate. She believes it will only lead to trouble.â
Sansaâs expression softened with sympathy. âI know she can be⊠strict,â she said gently, choosing her words with care. âBut I think sheâs only trying to protect you. It may not seem fair, but sheâs thinking of whatâs best, I suppose.â
Arya rolled her eyes, clearly less concerned with your motherâs intentions. âWell, itâs still stupid,â she said firmly. âYou and Jon have always been close. I donât see why that should change just because Mother has some silly ideas about whatâs proper.â
A smile tugged at your lips despite the ache in your heart. Aryaâs loyalty was unwavering, a constant source of warmth. âThank you, Arya,â you murmured, appreciating her blunt honesty. âBut I have to listen to her. For now, at least.â
Sansa, watching you carefully, reached across the table and took your hand, her grip gentle yet reassuring. âIf it helps, you know weâre here for you,â she said softly. âEven if Jon canât be as close⊠weâre still your family, and that wonât change.â
You nodded, squeezing her hand in return. âI know. I just⊠miss him,â you whispered. âMore than I thought I would.â
Sansaâs hand slipped back to her sewing, her gaze thoughtful as she looked down at the floral patterns sheâd been carefully stitching. âMaybe one day, Mother will see things differently. Perhaps sheâll understand that Jonâs part of us, too.â
Aryaâs voice broke in, her tone defiant. âAnd if she doesnât, then who cares? Jon is still here, isnât he? Heâs still family, no matter what anyone says.â
You smiled at Aryaâs fierce protectiveness, her determination to see things in simple terms. For a moment, your heart felt lighter, as if the weight of your motherâs judgment could be softened by the loyalty of your sisters.
As the afternoon sunlight faded into golden hues, you knew you had to find a way to reconcile the longing in your heart with the boundaries set around you. But with Sansa and Arya by your side, you felt just a little less alone.
The castle was alive with a rare buzz, a tension that pulsed through the stone walls of Winterfell like a storm on the brink of breaking. King Robert Baratheon and his family had arrived that morning, and the atmosphere had shifted in a way youâd never experienced. Servants bustled, the smell of roasting meats hung in the air, and everywhere you looked, there were flashes of gold, crimson, and banners snapping in the cold Northern wind.
In the chaos of the royal visit, you managed to slip away from the eyes of your mother, of Sansa, and even of Arya, who had taken to hiding from the stern Septa who was assigned to âimprove her manners.â You found Jon exactly where you expected: near the Godswood, watching the activity of Winterfell unfold from a distance, the cool detachment in his eyes like a protective shield.
âJon,â you called softly, stepping forward, but he didnât need to turn. You could tell he knew you were there from the softening of his shoulders, the way his stance shifted.
âY/N,â he murmured in greeting, and there was a flicker of warmth in his gaze as he looked at you, a brief break in his guarded expression. Ghost, his silent white shadow, stood at his side, watching you with those intense, red eyes. Your own direwolf, Shadow, stepped up beside you, her dark coat blending into the shaded trees, her amber eyes fixed on her brother.
For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing in the pocket of silence that the Godswood offered, a calm oasis in the midst of all the chaos.
âQuite the spectacle, isnât it?â Jon remarked, nodding in the direction of the castle, where banners and torches flared in the brisk wind.
You sighed, rolling your eyes. âItâs exhausting, is what it is. I feel like Iâm in a cage. But at least hereâŠâ You glanced around, your gaze finally settling back on him. âItâs quieter.â
Jonâs expression softened, though there was a shadow in his eyes. âA cage,â he echoed. âI suppose I know that feeling too.â
It was then that you remembered the whispers youâd heard in the halls, the snatches of conversation that mentioned Jon and the future heâd chosen. The words had tugged at your heart, but you hadnât had a moment to ask him if they were true. Now, as you stood before him, the question pressed on your tongue like a weight you could no longer hold.
âJon,â you began, your voice low, almost hesitant. âIs it true? That youâre⊠planning to join the Nightâs Watch?â
He looked at you, surprise flickering across his face before he glanced away, nodding slowly. âYes,â he admitted, his tone resigned but steady. âIâve spoken to Uncle Benjen about it. He says thereâs a place for me there, andâŠâ He paused, searching for the words. âIt feels like the right choice. Like itâs where I belong.â
You swallowed, a pang of sadness tightening in your chest. âThe right choice? Jon, you donât have to do this.â You stepped closer, your hand brushing against his. âYou belong here. You belong with us⊠with me.â
He looked down, his face unreadable, though his jaw tightened. âHere?â he echoed, his voice laced with bitterness. âWhat am I here, Y/N? A reminder of what shouldnât be, a ghost that haunts your motherâs halls.â He shook his head, the muscles in his face taut. âOut there, with the Nightâs Watch, I could be someone, serve a purpose. Iâd have a place, even if itâs at the edge of the world.â
âBut you already have a place,â you insisted, your voice thick with emotion. âWith usâwith me. I donât want you to go.â
For a heartbeat, he looked at you, raw and vulnerable, his gaze filled with a pain you recognized but had never truly understood. âY/N,â he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. âI canât stay here, not when Iâm⊠so close to you, yet so far.â
Just as the silence between you grew heavy, Ghost and Shadow, sensing the change, exchanged a look before darting into the woods. Startled, you glanced after them, their forms blurring into the shadows of the trees.
âGhost!â Jon called, his voice cutting through the stillness, but his direwolf paid him no mind, disappearing deeper into the trees with Shadow following closely.
Without a second thought, you both broke into a run, slipping between the trunks and branches as you chased the wolves. The air grew cooler as you moved further from the warmth of Winterfell, the sounds of the castle fading behind you. You finally caught up to them in a small clearing, where they had stopped, sniffing at something half-buried in the grassâa fallen bird, probably knocked from a tree by the wind.
Breathless, you stood beside Jon, a faint laugh escaping your lips at the sight of the two wolves nosing at the bird as if deciding whether it was worth their time.
âTheyâre quite the pair, arenât they?â you said, glancing at Jon, your smile fading as you caught the lingering sadness in his eyes. He hadnât stopped looking at you since youâd left the Godswood, and there was something between you, thick and unspoken, that words couldnât seem to touch.
He took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill of the forest. âY/N,â he murmured, his voice low. âYouâve always been the one thing that made staying here bearable. I⊠I donât want to leave you, butâŠâ He hesitated, struggling to find the words. âBut I donât know if I can be what Iâm supposed to be here.â
You placed a hand on his arm, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath the wool and leather. âAnd what are you supposed to be, Jon? Some⊠stranger sent to the Wall? Youâre more than that. I see more in you than any title or duty.â
He closed his eyes, the conflict clear in the way he clenched his jaw, his fingers curling around your hand where it rested on his arm. âI wish things were different. I wish⊠I wish I could stay. But every time I see your motherâs eyes, Iâm reminded that I donât belong here.â
The distance youâd both run from Winterfell had made the world feel smaller, the space between you shrinking as he finally turned to you fully, his eyes holding a quiet despair mixed with longing. He was close, so close that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breaths mingling with yours in the cold air.
âMaybe one day, Iâll come back,â he said softly, his voice barely a murmur as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. âBut I need to do this, for me. You understand that, donât you?â
You swallowed, nodding, though your heart felt as if it were breaking. âI understand, Jon. But that doesnât mean Iâll stop missing you.â
His gaze softened, a hint of a sad smile flickering on his lips. âIâll miss you too, Y/N. More than youâll ever know.â
For a fleeting moment, you were both suspended in the silent woods, lost in the ache of what could never be spoken aloud. You felt his hand linger on yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in a way that made letting go feel impossible.
Then, as if sensing the silent goodbye, Ghost and Shadow returned to your sides, each wolf nudging against their human. You shared one last look, an understanding passing between you that held all the words you couldnât say.
And then, without another word, you turned and made your way back to Winterfell, side by side but feeling worlds apart.
#game of thrones#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf x reader#fire and blood#hotd#house of the dragon#got/asoiaf#got x reader#got x you#got x y/n#got jon snow#jon x reader#jon x you#jon x y/n#jon snow#house stark
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oh i am OBSESSED with that detective!r and rhiannon fic... if you don't mind i have Thoughts about it
it's a little different from what you proposed but detective!r who doesn't know rhiannon but rhiannon knows you... she always comes back to the scene of the crime and lately she's been noticing this pesky little detective sticking your nose where you don't belong
so, she does some research. and by god, she's obsessed with you
she's stopped killing people for her own personal reasons - she's completely consumed with killing to see your reaction, the way you curse out the killer under your breath every time you see a new body
when she starts writing your name in blood at the scene, you know that you're in far too deep to go back
to make it even better, you've tried interrogating her. she was one of your most pleasant witnesses and she even offered to take you out to get coffee. the whole time you were there with her, she was so sweet and so kind, offering to pay for both of your orders. she couldn't have anything to do with it; she was just an innocent girl who was caught in the crosshairs of this gruesome serial killer. right? right?
need her so effing bad UGHHH -đȘ
â warnings: canon typical violence/dark content. obsessive!rhiannon & possessive!rhiannon. gn!reader. some suggestive content. didnât beta read (as always).
â a/n: this ask had me thinking omfg.
rhiannon who gets obsessed with you the moment she first sees you.
it all starts the moment she first sees you at the scene of her latest kill. she tends to linger, to watch from afar to see how the investigation is coming along. itâs not like people tend to pay attention to rhiannonâs presence anyway, so sheâs comfortable to stay and see whatâll happen. youâre different from the other detectives, she instantly senses that. and, oh, how she hates it -at first. youâre clearly underestimated by your colleagues, despite the fact that youâre much better and smarter than all of them combined. you catch details others are unaware of until you point them out with an intensity rhiannon hadnât expected. for the first time ever, she feels a thrill from something other than killing.
that night, she spends hours researching all that she can find out about you.
sprawled out on her couch, rhiannon spends hours combing through your social media, any public records, and every small mention of your life she can find online. by the end of it, she knows your favorite coffee shop, the route you take to work, and even the way you laugh, thanks to an obscure interview clip she found buried online. she imagines what it would be like to meet you in a ânormalâ setting. just two strangers talking over coffee. she imagines all sorts of scenarios, picturing countless ways of how she could get you to notice her. but thatâs not enough. she needs more.
rhiannon who starts killing for you.
before she 'met' you, she'd been killing for her own satisfaction the most of all: murdering people who wronged her, people who continue to underestimate her, who pretend like she's not there at all 90% of the time. that is until she meets you. once she has gathered enough information about you and has learned that you are the one who's taking over the investigation of her murder case, she makes it her mission for you to see her. she's consumed by the idea of murdering for you.
obviously, you can't figure out that it's her. but she can still very much get your attention:
when you start to find your name scrawled in blood at multiple crime scenes, your stomach twists. you donât know if itâs taunting or a bizarre kind of flirtation, but you canât shake the feeling that this killer has an extremely personal fixation on you. rhiannon finds a sick satisfaction in knowing that sheâs the only one who truly understands you. and that soon, youâll understand her, too.
rhiannon, whose obsession only gets worse.
she starts following you around, whether it's by walking after you at a safe distance or by driving her dad's truck. only being in your presence thrills her. she can't think of anything that's not the next kill and what she can leave behind for you at the crime scene this time. after a while, you start to receive anonymous letters at your home. theyâre handwritten, sweet, and yet filled with hints that leave a chill down your spine: each one contains personal details only someone very close (or very obsessed) would know. you start to dread going home alone each night, wondering if the killer is watching even then.
and, still, you're determined to catch this killer.
it's almost like you're just as obsessed with solving this case: you work relentlessly and stay in for much longer than anyone would ever know, sometimes running on no sleep at all just to try and connect the dots that are scattered all across your hometown in from of bloody crime scenes. once, while working late, you glance up from your desk to find somebody outside the station, watching through the window. it's just a silhouette that waves and, before you can react, turns and disappears into the shadows.
she makes watching you from afar a habit she can't seem to shake off:
hidden in plain sight, she watches you work a scene, observing your expressions as you piece together clues sheâs laid just for you. the way you curse under your breath or tense at a particularly dark detail excites her; itâs like sheâs guiding you through a personal maze, sheâs drawing you closer with every carefully crafted move.
rhiannon, who even goes as far as to leave gifts for you right at your doorstep.
theyâre seemingly innocent items: flowers, trinkets, chocolates...always with notes like âyou looked tired todayâ or âthought youâd like this.â but you know better. thereâs nothing innocent about these gestures; theyâre reminders that sheâs closer than you think. in one of her letters, she writes: âevery kill is for you.â the revelation is twisted, sick even, but the obsessive way she describes her admiration for you leaves you feeling trapped in her gaze. you start to wonder if this chase will end only when sheâs taken everything from you. or if youâll end up her final victim.
at this rate, she catches feelings for you before she even knows what's happening to her:
she follows you on a night out, intrigued by how you relax away from work. when you laugh with friends, she feels a strange jealousy toward anyone whoâs close to you. to rhiannon, this outing feels like an unofficial date, watching you from a corner as if sheâs already a part of your life. later, she imagines herself sitting beside you, whispering her secrets in your ear, knowing she could charm you if given the chance.
rhiannon, whose obsession which was originally supposed to be a cat-and-mouse game that she was in control over, turns into a sense of possessiveness.
alone in her room, she whispers your name just to hear the sound of it aloud. she fantasizes about how youâd react if you knew sheâd been studying you so closely if you knew that every kill from here on out was a twisted attempt to draw you closer. rhiannon, who somehow steals something from you, whether it is by sneaking into your home whilst you're out or by reaching into your purse in passing. either way, she uses it, later that same night, when she's home alone and dares to touch herself to the thought of you. she finds herself almost longing for you to figure it out, to see her completely. sheâs begun to view each kill as a love letter, a message only you can fully understand, and in some dark corner of her mind, she starts to believe you might actually feel the same way.
but even that is not enough for her. she wants you to know her. to look at her, without the slightest clue who's really in front of you.
so, rhiannon plays the role of the clueless witness: after a particularly grisly scene, she shows up at the station, pretending to have seen something, and strikes up a surprisingly casual conversation with you. she even convinces you to take a break for coffee: she offers to buy, her voice light and friendly, as if sheâs not the very person keeping you up at night.
rhiannon, who starts accidentally running into you.
she begins appearing in unexpected places: your favorite bookstore, the cafe near your precinct, and even outside the gym. she plays it off like coincidence, but you canât shake the feeling sheâs watching you. every âchanceâ encounter leaves you more on edge, especially as her excuses get flimsier, her curiosity too intense for a stranger. her gaze lingers just a bit too long, and she throws out casual details she should never know about you. but then again, there's no way this innocent woman could ever be responsible for all these gruesome crimes, right...?
you brush off these suspicions, not really believing that rhiannon could be capable of these murders.
and still, during another coffee date (which become a habit between the two of you) she drops a casual line, mentioning a detail about your personal life you never told her: maybe the nickname your family used or an obscure detail about your childhood. when you press her about it, she insists that she read it somewhere or âjust rememberedâ from one of your conversations. but her gaze lingers, enjoying how much sheâs unsettling you.
rhiannon, who starts acting possessive over you without really noticing it herself.
out in public, she lets her fingers brush against yours. sheâll throw an arm around you casually, especially when she notices other people noticing. to rhiannon, itâs a game of establishing her claim, marking her territory.
after some time, she finally invites you to her place, claiming she wants to âreturn the favorâ of all your coffee dates.
when you arrive, the atmosphere is too perfect, too staged, with dim lighting and chillingly specific music playing softly. every word she says feels more like a veiled confession, every look a taunt as she watches you grapple with the tension between attraction and horror. itâs not until you see a framed newspaper clipping of one of her murders in the hall that you realize she wanted you here for more than a simple dinner...
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In the Quiet of Us
Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. This one was more of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I hope you still find it enjoyable. As always, I have anonymous ask available for those who would like to express their opinion anonymously.
Pairing:Â Lando Norris x named!female character
Plot: Lando Norris learns to navigate his girlfriend's hesitation with physical affection, patiently helping her open up and show love in her own quiet, touch-starved way.
Tag: fluff.
Word count: 1697
Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.
The girlfriend has a name as I wasnât able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.
Lando Norris had always been an affectionate person, and anyone close to him would tell you the same. Whether it was a warm hug after a tough day or a playful nudge to break the silence, Lando found comfort in touch. Friends and family alike knew heâd be the first to throw an arm around your shoulders, squeeze your hand for reassurance, or wrap you in a bear hug when you needed it most. For Lando, physical closeness wasnât just a part of lifeâit was his language, one he was fluent in and spoke without hesitation.
But when it came to Evie, Lando soon realized that physical affection wasnât something she was used to. She wasnât cold or distantâquite the opposite, actuallyâbut there was a quietness to her, a shyness that kept her hands tucked in her lap rather than reaching out. It wasnât that she didnât want to be close to him; he could see the way her eyes softened when he touched her, how her breath would hitch when he leaned in a little too close. But there was always a hesitation, a space she kept between them.
Their first date had been sweet and simple, a quiet dinner followed by a walk in the park. At one point, heâd offered her his arm, hoping sheâd take it. But instead, sheâd simply smiled and slipped her hands into her pockets. At the end of the night, as they said goodbye, he leaned in for a kiss. She blushed a deep pink, her hands clutching her purse as though it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hesitation caught him off guard. Heâd pulled back, a soft smile on his face to cover the momentâs awkwardness, but she didnât move away. It was as though she wanted to be closer but didnât know how to reach for him.
As the weeks passed, Lando began to notice the small ways Evie responded to his touch. She wouldnât reach for his hand, but sheâd linger if he held it. She wouldnât initiate a hug, but once he pulled her into his arms, sheâd hold on tight, pressing her face into his chest like she was grounding herself in his warmth. If he brushed her cheek with his thumb or let his fingers graze hers, her cheeks would flush, her lips parting in a soft, unsure smile. It wasnât that she didnât want to be closeâit was just that she wasnât sure how to be.
It stung a little at first. Lando had always been so open with his affection, so ready to give, but he quickly realized that Evie just wasnât used to it. And as he got to know her, he could see how deeply she cared for him in all the ways that didnât involve touch. Sheâd make him laugh until his stomach hurt, stay up late just to talk about their days, remember every small detail he shared with her. He saw kindness in her every action, even in her hesitance. And whenever he held her, no matter how shy she seemed, she never pulled away.
She wasnât rejecting him; she just wasnât sure how to express her feelings through touch. But that didnât stop him from being patient, from offering her the space she needed while still trying to show her how much he cared in his own way.
Then, as the months passed, Lando started noticing something else. A pattern, little signs that showed she was trying to be close in her own quiet ways. Sheâd poke his shoulder after a joke or hold her hand up for a high-five with a shy smile, only to linger a second too long. These gestures became more frequentâsmall touches, like a light brush of her fingers over his, the faintest hint of a hand on his arm. It dawned on him, in the sweetest way, that this was Evieâs version of physical affection. A high-five, a gentle nudge, an extra glance over her shoulder as he watched her laugh with his family. Each small touch felt like her way of reaching out, even if it didnât look like much to anyone else.
And Lando loved it. Every high-five, every poke on his shoulder felt like a step forward, like she was learning how to show what she felt in her own way. He noticed that these gestures would come at the sweetest momentsâafter theyâd had a laugh, or when she was watching him with that soft, shy smile of hers, or during the quiet times when they were just being near each other. He realized that Evie wasnât distant at all. She was just... a little touch-starved, perhaps too used to holding back.
So he decided heâd help make up for all the love she hadnât had, all the closeness she never felt she could ask for. He started pulling her close more often, wrapping her in warm hugs, brushing kisses over her temple whenever he could. Sheâd always hesitate at first, that little spark of nervousness in her eyes, but then sheâd melt into his arms as if they were the safest place in the world. And every time, heâd whisper soft words of affirmation, making sure she knew how much he loved her, how happy he was just to hold her.
---
One afternoon, while they were sitting together in silence, Lando reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Evieâs ear. She looked at him, her eyes soft and a little uncertain, and he couldnât help but smile. He liked the way she looked at him, like she was always just on the verge of saying something but couldnât quite find the words.
âYouâre so cute when you blush,â he teased gently, his fingers brushing over her cheek.
Evie turned pink, her gaze dropping to her hands. âI... Iâm not good at this, Lando,â she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. âBeing close... Iâm just not sure how to... I donât want to mess it up.â
Landoâs heart ached at the sadness in her voice. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. âEvie, you donât have to know how,â he said softly, his voice filled with love. âYou donât have to do anything. Just let me love you. Let me hold you.â
She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, allowing him to pull her close. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, as if he were the only steady thing in her world.
âThank you,â she whispered, her voice so soft, he almost couldnât hear it. âFor being patient with me.â
âYouâre worth every second,â Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He meant it with all of his heart.
---
As time passed, Evie began to open up in small, quiet ways. She started to initiate small gestures, things sheâd never done before. She would reach for his hand when they watched a movie, her fingers gently curling around his. She would rest her head on his shoulder, her breath soft against his neck. Each small touch was a quiet declaration of her love, her way of showing him that she was learning how to trust in the closeness they shared.
One morning, as Lando was making breakfast, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the warmth of her embrace. But then he relaxed, covering her hands with his and smiling as his heart swelled. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, and for the first time, Lando felt like they had finally found a rhythm togetherâone that didnât need words, one that was just about being there for each other.
Each day brought something newâa gentle touch, a small kiss, a hesitant hug. She would press a kiss to his cheek, rest her head on his chest as they lay together, ask him to hold her on days when she felt vulnerable. Every gesture made his heart swell, and he made sure she knew how much he cherished each one. With every forehead kiss, every squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, never a burden.
---
In the quiet moments that followed, Lando never stopped showing Evie how much he loved her. With every soft kiss on her forehead, every gentle squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, one he treasured deeply. And in return, Evie began to understand that love didnât need to be loud or perfectâit just needed to be there, in every little gesture, in every quiet moment they shared.
One quiet evening, after a long day, they found themselves on the couch, wrapped up in each other and a warm blanket. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of them paid much attention. Evie was nestled against Landoâs side, her fingers tracing slow patterns over his hand, her head resting against his shoulder. He felt her breath even out, and he looked down to find her gaze soft and peaceful, a contented look he was coming to cherish. It was a peaceful silence, one that spoke volumes.
After a while, Evie lifted her head and looked up at him, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. âDo you think Iâll ever be as good at this as you are?â she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.
Lando gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at her with a warmth that held no expectation, only love. âYouâre already everything I need, Evie,â he said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. âJust as you are.â
She leaned back against him, her fingers curling around his as she closed her eyes, content. And for the first time, they didnât need words to feel how much they meant to each other. They had found their own way, and it was perfect.
In that silence, wrapped in each otherâs arms, they both knew that love could be quiet, soft, and yet, more than enough.
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