#the freezing rain immediately soaking them to the bone

[letitbehurt]

A Whumpee who’s terrified of storms being dragged outside and tied down in the middle of one.

[0mg-bird]

Caught In The Rain ~ Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your date with Tyler gets spoiled when a storm rolls in, but there’s an upside to getting caught in the rain.

Warnings: Smut! And cursing

This was only your second date, but Tyler has been pining for you for a while. Sitting in the same booth in your section, he’d order the same thing and hang around the diner where you worked for too long. At first, you wanted nothing to do with his conceited energy, but after you finally got to know him a little better, you came around to the idea of having dinner with him.

The first date went well, the night was fun and romantic, and now as he picks you up to spend the day on his family property, you imagine it will be the same. He had everything planned, it would just be the two of you. You’d have lunch on the deck, you’d go horseback riding down to the creek and maybe have a few drinks.

So far, everything was going perfectly, it wasn’t until the two of you sat on the creek bed that trouble started to arise.

Tyler sat with his back against a tree, you laid between his long legs with your back to his chest. The two of you drank your beers while he told you a story from his bull riding days.

“I hit the mud pretty hard, I honestly thought I broke my back.” He said, letting his fingers brush through your hair.

A shiver ran through you at the intimate touch. “Wow, you have to be some kind of crazy in order to willingly get on an animal who wants to stomp you into the ground.” You say, trying not to focus on the heat flushing through you.

Tyler chuckles, the shake of his chest vibrates you. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that. My mama thought that when I gave up rodeo, she’d finally not have to worry about me, but then I told her I was gonna be a storm chaser and she about had a heart attack.”

You laugh as you bring the can to your lips, about to tell him something when the rumble of thunder in the distance catches your attention. The two of you look up to the once clear sky to see the way dark clouds roll in.

“Well, Mr Weatherman, that doesn’t look good to me.” You say, making him sigh.

“No, it doesn’t.”

You stand, immediately he misses your touch. “I don’t have my degree in meteorology or anything but it looks like we better head back.”

He follows suit. “There goes the day I had planned.”

He can’t help but feel utterly disappointed as the first few drops of rain come. You look to him in guidance.

“I take it you didn’t have ‘rain soaked evening’ on your list, huh?”

He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t exactly on my agenda.” Then, he urges the horse he was on to go a little faster. “Let’s go before we melt out here.”

Despite the two of you racing each other back to the barn, by the time you got there, the light drizzle had become a full on downpour. The two of you quickly untack the horses and put them back in their stalls. You stand at the large barn door and look at each other.

“Ready?” He asks you, taking in the way your wet hair falls in a perfectly messy way.

You bite your lip, then nod. “I’m ready when you are.”

He slowly reaches to grasp your hand, a spark goes through him as he sees the way it fits in his. “Alright, let’s hope we don’t drown on the way back to the house.”

You laugh, then tug him along with you as you brave the storm. Cold and thick water droplets pummel the two of you as you race back to shelter, thunder claps, making you shake in surprise. You can’t stop your giggle as you become soaked to the bone, Tyler quickly pulls open the screen door and urges you inside.

You shiver, dripping onto the hardwood floors. “That was brutal.” You say as your teeth chatter.

He pulls you into his arms, embracing you. “Jesus, you’re freezing, sweetheart.”

You nod feverishly, laying your head against his chest. “I feel you shaking too, cowboy, you aren’t fooling me.”

He pulls away, only to guide you up the stairs.

“Tyler, we’re dripping water everywhere.” You fuss.

“I’ll clean it up later, c’mon.”

In his bathroom, he hands you a fluffy towel. You take it gratefully and soak up the water caught in your hair. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re slightly out of breath still, too focused on drying your skin to notice the way Tyler is looking at you.

As he runs his own towel over his head, he takes in your form. Still shaking, eyes wide, clothes soggy, you look absolutely beautiful.

“I’m sorry the night’s ruined.” He tells you, making you look up at him finally.

His white t shirt is practically transparent now and it clings to his upper body deliciously. His hair looks darker and it lays against his forehead.

“The night isn’t ruined, I had a great time.” You smile.

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, staring deeply at each other before Tyler clears his throat. “You can let your boots dry in here.” He says, kicking off his own boots.

“Oh.” You blush at the way he moves past the moment so quickly. “Thanks.”

Once you’re out of your soggy shoes, he brings you into his bedroom as he searches for some clothes you can wear. The large window is covered in rain and flashes of lightning light up the room every once in a while.

“Here you go, you’ll warm up once you’re out of your wet stuff.” He hands you one of his t shirts and a pair of boxers, you take them with gratitude.

“Thank you.”

You look at the clothes in your hand, then to him, then to the door. When he gets the hint, he scrambles. “Right, sorry, sorry.”

He leaves the room, you hide your smile as you slowly shut the door. Tyler stands, trying not to be too perverted but he can’t help himself, he watches through the crack the door left when you didn’t shut it all the way. You peel your soaked shirt off and drop it to the floor, then un button your jeans. As you pull them down your legs, he takes in a deep breath.

There you stood, half naked in his bedroom.

The sight of you sent a rush of attraction through his body, his skin buzzed. He sees you pick up the shirt, then pause.

You turn, facing the door before stopping.

You knew he was right there on the other side of it, looking utterly perfect. Would he reject you? Would he tell you it’s too soon?

Your chest pumps up and down as you try to talk yourself out of it, but you can’t. You stalk to the door, pulling it open and there he was, already looking at you.

Without a word, he’s embracing you, one hand on your cheek, the other on your bare waist as he bruises his lips onto yours. You breathe him in, pulling him closer as he backs you into the room.

Kissing him was something you can’t believe you ever missed out on. He meets your motions perfectly, tilting his head to slot his mouth with yours. You groan, hands pulling at his wet t shirt. He pulls back, letting you take it off.

“Do you want this?” He asks, watching you look over his toned upper body.

You meet his starving eyes and nod. “I do.”

Immediately, he pulls his belt loose and unzips his jeans. You pull him back to you, lightly gasping as the backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed. With light pressure, he pushes you to sit. Your greedy hands tug his jeans down his thighs, you continue to shake as you stare at him in just a pair of boxers.

“Are you shaking cause of the rain or because of me?” He asks, his hand burying in your hair.

“Both.” You look up at him with round eyes.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “We don’t have to.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I want it, Ty. I’m just a little…nervous.”

His brows furrow. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Looking down at you, asking for him, it makes his brain short circuit. He leans down, hands on either side of you, pressed into his mattress, his body movement urges you to scoot up the bed before he’s laying you flat. Hands in his hair, you get lost in the feeling of his tongue pressing against yours. Your eyes are heavy, but as he separates your thighs and slots himself between them, you’re on high alert.

Your knees cage his hips in, when he deepens the kiss further, you can feel the brush of his hard on against the growing heat between your legs. You lightly gasp, you didn’t want to admit it but the feel of him was intimidating.

Tyler pulls away, staring down at you with deep eyes. “I’m kind of grateful for the rain now, I wouldn’t have been able to get this close without it.” He says in a heavy tone. You sit up just a touch so he can unclasp your bra, then he’s pulling it off to join the other soggy clothes on the floor.

“How do you know that it’s all the rains fault?” You question, trying to sound coy but as his large hand palms your breast, your voice wavers and you fall back against the pillows.

Tyler grins at the reaction. “Would you have let me touch you like this if it had turned out to be a calm evening?” His mouth takes a moment to work down your neck.

“I’m sure the storm helps.” You groan, a strike of lightning illuminating the shape of him.

You watch his head as he dips to kiss over your breasts, hot and open mouthed kisses that have your skin aflame. He trails down your stomach, kissing just below your naval as he pulls at the lace of your underwear. He looks up at you, making sure what he’s doing is okay before he does it.

You watch his back flex, the low light painting him in such an artistic way. You squirm with anticipation, and when his fingers collect the arousal of your core, you can’t help but whimper. He curls his two fingers up your center, swiping perfectly at the bundle of nerves that longs for affection.

“Do you like this?” He asks, slowly pressing into your entrance.

“Yes.” You shutter. Clenching around his fingers, you can feel precisely the way he pumps his pointer and middle finger in and out of you, slowly at first. The action has you taking shallow breaths. “Don’t act like you’re going to break me.” You say, digging your heels into the mattress. “Show me what you want to do, Ty.”

He looks at you, searching your face for any doubt before curling his fingers with no warning. The noise you let out is shrewd and entirely a whine. He’s addicted, figuring out that he wants you to keep making those sounds. He does it again, hitting a perfect spot inside of you that makes you feel warm and your stomach fuzzy.

You grasp onto his wrist, keeping his hand in the position it’s in. “Keep doing it, it feels so good.”

Your eyes shut, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, making your moans come out muffled.

“Is it this easy for you to get unwound? Just a couple minutes of my fingers inside of you and you already want to cum?” He asks, leaning down to your ear. “I could listen to you pant all day, I wonder what it’ll sound like when I’m fully inside of you?”

His filthy words put an image in your head and immediately, there’s a knot forming in your stomach.

A loud clap of thunder echos around you, rumbling the room and you yelp at the shock of it, your hand grasps the back of his neck and your head turns to watch the window.

“Shhh, don’t be scared, pretty girl. Focus on me instead, how good my fingers are fucking you.” He coos to you, lightly kissing your temple and your cheek.

The mewls and moans are getting closer and heavier as you feel your peak form. When he pulls his soaked fingers from you, you don’t even have time to process before he’s focusing back on your clit.

Slow and with tasteful pressure, he runs the pads of his fingers in a circle over you. His mouth waters at the sight, it has him considering if the second date is too early to pin your hips down as he eats you out. He wants to see the look on your face as you drip down his chin, wants to fight for air as your thighs suffocate him.

That’ll have to come later because your chest heaves up and down and you dig your head into the pillow. “Tyler, wait, I’m going to finish.” You warn.

“Good, I want you to. C’mon, cum for me, show me how good this is making you feel.”

Your mouth hangs open. “So good, you’re making me feel so, so good.”

Fingers digging into the sheets, you feel your body clench, then his name is falling from your lips as relief floods you. Tyler watches in awe, seeing the glow you have as you whimper, processing the pleasure you just went through.

“You did so good.” He praises, kissing your lips. “You warming up now?”

You nod. “Trust me, I’m warm.”

He chuckles, pulling your thighs forward to close any space between your dripping center and his boxers. Cautiously, he pulls the material down, a wet spot already on them from the precum that dripped from him. He sees the way your eyes widen, then he feels your warm grip on him as you stroke him up and down. The touch of your palm against his erected length makes his vision blurry for a moment.

“Make me yours, Ty.” You beg, eyes wide and still blown from the orgasm you just went through.

He groans, getting lost in the chills of pleasure. When he gains his composure, he’s pulling your grip from him and kissing you in a sweltering heat. You moan into his mouth.

“I’ll grab a condom.” He mutters, going to pull away.

You protest immediately. “No, I don’t want the condom. I’m on the pill, and I can trust you, right,” You say, desperate for his lips again.

“Of course you can, but are you sure?” He asks.

You nod, pulling him back towards you. “I want all of you, please.”

Your voice was so needy and it was just for him. Tyler nods, kissing your neck as he grips himself and guides to your entrance. At the first feeling of his tip brushing against your wetness, your thighs lock around his hips.

“Just breathe.” He coaches you, briefly looking at the storm outside before pushing his hips forward.

You lose your breath as he slowly enters your walls, he keeps going until he’s bottomed out and you feel the intrusion of him in an almost stinging way.

You groan, head falling back and you startle again at the thunder.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” Tyler states, slack jawed. He looks down at your expression. “You’re okay, take as long as you need, sweetheart.”

Your hands slide along his shoulders, you adjust and stretch around him perfectly. Swallowing thickly, you softly nod. “Okay, just start slow.”

He focuses on control, as he gently pulls out a few inches and lightly thrusts back in, your walls are welcoming him too well. It makes him feel intoxicated and it’s just getting started.

Your finger tips press into his skin, you slowly becoming more comfortable with the rhythm. Your little huffs tell Tyler you’re ready for more, so his hips adjust and he speeds up his movement.

“This is good, fuck, this is better than good.” You whine, hand slipping up into his hair.

“I’m trying not to cum too fast but you’re making it pretty hard, sweetheart.” He tells you before he hikes on of your legs up to wrap around his hips. You do the same with the other and at the slight change of position, you inhale sharply and grip his hair.

“Fuck, you’re so deep. Go harder, I want it.”

Your dirty words spin his mind dizzy, he does just what you say. Grunts leave him as he fucks into you, he kisses your sweet lips passionately. He wanted to give you it all, wanted to give you pleasure in any way you asked for it. The white lightening coming through the window paints your skin perfectly, as your chest heaves up off the mattress, he watches you like you’re in art form.

“You’re gorgeous.” He praises, sliding out of your dripping core.

Before you can protest or even miss him filling you up, he’s gripping your hip and instructing you to roll over. You hide your smirk, hungry for something new. You turn onto your stomach, then feel the way he pulls at your hips, pulling your ass up.

“You want it harder? Deeper? I’ll give it to you, darlin’. Whatever you want.” He says through bared teeth as he kneels behind you.

You gasp as he slips right back in, jerking into you.

The feeling of him deeply fucking you from behind is what has you heaving into the pillow. The change of angle is making your toes curl, he’s brushing against a spot inside of you that makes your skin feel hir, it starts a knot inside of you.

“You’re even gorgeous like this. Shit, I love the way you look, taking me so good.” He says, biting his bottom lip.

You turn, looking back at him as his big hands pull you back into him, trying to push you further to your downfall. The sounds the two of you make are crude and wet, you can barely even form sentences. Your breath quickens, your legs begin to wobble at the waves of pleasure crashing over you as he hits it perfectly and over and over. You haven’t been with many people, but by far, the way Tyler is making you feel is better than anything you’ve previously experienced. Your open mouthed moans are entirely whiny.

“I’m so close.” You hum out, gripping the pillow your face is pressed against to ground yourself.

Tyler curses behind you, suddenly burying himself deep inside you. “I’m right there too, sweetheart.” He huffs.

Your eyes screw shut, muscles contracting as the tip of your second orgasm comes. “Fuck, Tyler!” You cry, over stimulated by the way stutters in his movements and pushes deep inside of you.

His head falls back, you pulse around him as you finally reach your finish. Tyler grunts once more and moans as he finishes inside of you.

You let yourself collapse fully onto the bed, taking Tyler down with you. His weight is comforting on top of you as he catches his breath. After a moment, he slowly pushes off of you and slides out of you. You cry out quietly as pulls out.

“Shh, you’re alright.” He says, laying beside you.

He pushes your hair off your shoulder, then gently leans to kiss your warm skin. You turn onto your back, chest fluttering up and down. You gently reach to touch his face and smile wide.

“Kiss me.” You tell him.

“Yes ma’am.” He grins, closing the close proximity and gently kisses you, slow and sweet.

He tucks loose hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead when he pulls back. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch out the window, seeing the rain continue to fall. After a moment, Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel. You watch him with affection as he gently cleans the mess between your legs. He kisses your knee and then moves to pull his boxers back on.

Lying on his chest, your fingertips dance over his skin. “I’d say the rain made the date better.” You declare.

He lightly laughs. “Yeah, nothing ruined after all.”

[usedtobecooler]

it’s simple and it goes like this | steve harrington x reader

a/n: thank you in advance to anybody who reads this little labour of love, i’ve had such a great time writing this one and i’m so proud of the finished outcome. title from i’m in love with you by the 1975. 6.1k words.

tw: EXPLICIT CONTENT 18+ MINORS DNI, reader uses she/her pronouns and has female anatomy, piv sex, oral f receiving, creampie, soft sex, dirty talk. intoxicated characters, admission of feelings, angst and fluff. characters ages are around mid-late twenties.

summary: turning down a ride from your roommate and brotherly figure, eddie munson, in favor of staying behind at a christmas party ends in you finding an unexpected escape in steve harrington. a drive home and copious amounts of flirting later, the night unfolds in passion and letting out unspoken feelings, leaving you to grapple with the consequences of the choices made.

Staying behind at Jon and Nancy’s Christmas party had been a mistake, and only now, inhaling nicotine into your lungs without a clue on how to get back home, did you realize the weight of this mistake and how badly you wished you could rewind to an hour prior when you had a guaranteed ride.

Eddie offered you a ride home when he was heading out, which you declined immediately. His girl, Heather, really wasn’t overly keen on you, and would do anything to make the journey home as painfully awkward as possible.

You and Eddie had lived together for a few years now, the bond between you both knitting together so tightly, transcending more than just shared rent and somebody to talk to at night. He became your confidant, and you his, finding comfort in each other in a way that could only be described as a sibling bond. As much as you loved him, would do anything for him, he wasn’t for you, and you weren’t for him.

Eddie was just trying to look out for you tonight, be protective in that typical brotherly way, and make sure you got home in one piece.

You mentally kick yourself for being a moron and placing your discomfort at sharing a closed space with his girlfriend above your safety.

Standing outside as the rain starts to pelt down and seep into your skin, you’re regretting your decision. Heather was an ass, but dealing with her for a twenty minute car journey would’ve been favorable over standing outside in freezing temperatures, getting soaked to the bone.

You stub out what’s left of your barely lit cigarette, crushing it under the heavy weight of your Docs. You scan the deserted street for any sign of life, only for whatever forces that are in charge to offer you some form of rectitude — Steve Harrington’s car hums in the distance, lights illuminating the otherwise empty road.

The Beemer rolls up, Steve’s arm flexing as he rolls down the window, “Need a ride?”

Steve’s eyes are hazy, a flash of mischief shining in the dark honey hues — he’d spent the majority of the party with Eddie, the pair of them suddenly the best of friends after years of teenage hatred. He’s so high, you can smell it on his expensive jacket. 

Eddie’s disappointed face flashes through your mind, but the heavy material of your own jacket clings to your body, soaked through from the pelting rain. Fuck what Eddie would think, getting in Steve Harrington’s car beats whatever was going on out here.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumble, a sharp little smile on your face as you round the car, sliding into the passenger seat. The door slams shut and you’re suddenly cocooned in familiar scents of leather and Steve’s cedarwood cologne. It’s painfully comforting.

The engine roars to life once more, and Steve makes off down the street without another thought. You pretend not to notice how his eyes hardly leave your soaked frame as you drive on.

The car purrs as you drive down the quiet streets, the unspoken tension between you both sizzling as Iron Maiden plays softly from the speakers. Eddie really made sure Steve saw all parts of him when they began hanging out, and Steve took to Eddie’s music tastes painfully quickly. 

“What’s the story then, princess?” Steve grins, finally breaking the silence, “Turning down a ride with Eddie for a nicotine break was a little silly. It’s freezing out there, you’d have caught your death if I hadn’t shown up.”

“My knight in shining armor,” you deadpan, sighing quietly and cringing when you catch yourself being a little rude, “sorry, uh. I didn’t wanna be a third wheel, Heather and I, we don’t get along at all.”

Steve chuckles quietly, “She’s a bitch.” 

“She’s such a bitch,” you agree with enthusiasm, finally turning slightly in your seat to face Steve properly, “I dunno what the hell Eddie sees in her.”

“Big boobs,” Steve shrugs, making a face when you hum in disappointment under your breath, “fair point, though. Can’t blame you for wanting to avoid that situation. Still, I can’t believe he left you there like that.”

There’s a beat of silence, your cheeks flushing hot. Was Steve being protective?

“I saw you dodging advances from a certain somebody tonight,” Steve wiggles his brows, cutting the tension quickly, “what’s the deal? He not doing it for you anymore?” 

You groan, rolling your eyes as you slump back into your seat, “I’m not in the mood for Brad’s games, y’know? He’s so hot and cold.” 

“Games, huh?” Steve grins, eyes landing on you for a moment, flirty and devastatingly attractive, “Maybe you’ve just not found somebody yet who plays the right ones.” 

You flush hot, heart practically beating out of your chest, because this is clearly the weed talking. Steve hadn’t flirted with you since that one time in sophomore year, when you’d come back from Summer break and had blossomed enough for the one and only The Hair to find you worthy of his time.

“Smooth, Harrington,” you choke out eventually, spluttering on your own saliva as you struggle to get the words out, “your list of admirers is endless, do you use that line on all the girls?” 

“Well, maybe I’m looking for somebody who can keep up.” Steve passes a lingering glance over your body, only to look away and avert his eyes back to the road before you can say anything further.

Over the years you had known him, you and Steve had shared stolen glances and cryptic smiles. Gravitating towards each other in Eddie’s absence, but never taking that next step. Steve had a list of conquests, and it pained you to admit every last one hurt to watch – somehow it pained you more to admit how pleased you’d become when each of them left just as fast.

You both knew that these were dangerous waters to tread, how protective Eddie could be over you was enough to have Steve keeping you at arms length, his respect for Eddie was too great to push it further. Yet here you were once again, sharing a confined space and feeling an aura of comfortability that couldn’t just be ignored until it went away.

The rest of the journey passes in silence, and all too soon Steve is pulling onto the dirt track towards the trailer you and Eddie share. The place is still in darkness, and you have to suppress an eye roll – Eddie was hardly ever home overnight now, too used to shacking up with Heather in her apartment in town.

Steve cuts the engine, slapping a hand down on his jean clad thigh, “I’ll walk you to your door, it’s creepy as hell out here in the dark.” 

He shudders for emphasis, and before you can protest and tell him you can manage on your own, he’s out of the car and rounding the trunk to open your door for you.

“Thanks, Steve, you really don’t have to.” You insist, stepping out of the car and internally cringing as your boots squelch in the thick mud where the tyres of Eddie’s van typically embed themselves.

“It’s okay, wouldn’t wanna risk something happening to you,” Steve says, a hand coming out to just barely touch the small of your back as you struggle like bambi on ice in the slippery mud, “here just – just take my hand.”

Steve extends his hand out and you take it with a slight hesitation, your need to make it to the front door without being soaked in rain and mud outweighing the heavy feelings sitting in your chest. 

It’s almost frightening how normal it feels, to have your hand clasped with Steve’s as you walk the short path to the trailer. You don’t want to know what that means, but it feels so nice, the way Steve’s large, warm hand encapsulates your own has your head spinning.

You have to, albeit sadly, let go of Steve to fish in your jacket pocket for a front door key. After a fight with the lock, the door swings open, the warm heat so inviting that you basically barge through the doorway, tugging Steve in with you without thinking.

Steve gawps a little, flounders from where he stands as you lean over his large frame to shut the door behind him, toeing off your shoes like you would any other night. When you finally take a moment to realize what you’ve just done, so casually, you’re suddenly aware of the slight crackle of tension, the magnetic pull of your bodies as you shuffle close together.

You guide him further into the house, flicking on a lamp that’s perched on a nearby table, illuminating the room with a soft, warm glow. Losing your jacket and throwing it haphazardly on a random surface. 

Everything seems to narrow with each step, pulling you both as close together as possible with each passing moment. Neither of you pull away, either, walking as tightly together as you can manage in the small space. 

“You want a drink or something?” You ask, trying to keep yourself as nonchalant as possible, schooling your voice as you cast a sidelong glance at him. 

Steve grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes, as he gently declines the offer with a shake of his head, "As tempting as that sounds, princess, I spotted a little note from Eddie saying he'd be back soon. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome and have him play a game of twenty questions.”

Your confused gaze follows his where he nods over your shoulder, and sure enough there’s a scribbled out note on the pin board hung up the wall;

BE BACK SOON SWEETHEART, DONT LOCK ME OUT!! 

You really do roll your eyes this time around, mentally sticking the middle finger up at the fucking note. You walk back and lean on the dining table, crossing your arms over your chest. You can’t pretend that you don’t notice Steve’s gaze never leaving your body, watching your every move as you shuffle around. 

He looks disappointed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. You dare to fix your own stare on him from where you’re perched, can’t ignore how he so naturally hovers towards you despite the rejection. Like he wants to do one thing but is saying another, trying to be the good guy.

Steve was a good guy.

In the closeness, the push and pull between you and Steve becomes devastating. The air is thick with unspoken admissions, and whatever sort of invisible barrier you had between you both begins to fade as you float into each other's space once more. 

With a nod of his head towards the door, Steve finally breaks the silence. "Guess I should get going, huh?" 

The words hang in the air, a question and an invitation, leaving you to decide which it’s going to be. The doorway goes out of focus, blurs as Steve inches closer to you and further from it, the silent tension lingering in the air – an unanswered question.

A soft smile plays on your lips as you respond, "You could stay, you know? We could… hang out." 

You offer with some sort of nonchalance, despite how your heart hammers in your chest, and it hangs with anticipation as you hold his gaze, leaving the choice in the hazy space between lingering and leaving.

Steve sucks in a slow breath, his eyes flickering between yours and the curve of your lips. You shiver visibly, and in that fleeting moment, Steve inches a fraction closer. It's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but it speaks volumes.

Up this close, you could really marvel at just how gorgeous Steve is, his tan skin flecked with beauty marks and moles, dotted like constellations. You wanted to connect them all with your tongue, kiss and bite him until he was branded.

“You want to, right?” You breathe, chest heaving slightly, and you forget all about how damp and uncomfortable your clothes are, how when he picked you up you wanted nothing more than to have a hot shower and go to sleep. Now, you want everything but that. You want to see how far Steve will go, you want to know if he wants you as much as you want him.

“Eddie’ll probably be back any minute,” Steve murmurs, those deep set eyes scanning over your entire face, lingering on your lips, and the tip of his tongue peaks out to swipe along his own bottom one, wetting it, “we… we shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t,” you agree eventually, voice breathy and lacking conviction, entire body vibrating, leaning into Steve just as much as he was leaning into you. Your hands grasp for the edge of the table, grounding you when you need it most, anticipation enough to have your heart hammering in your chest.

“Yeah, we… definitely shouldn’t.” Steve mimics, leans in closer, his hot breath fanning your face. He’s beautiful like this, so close that you’re going cock eyed trying to keep your vision of him clear, but his guard was rarely ever let down around you, and you didn’t want to miss a moment. 

His lips brush against yours, a pained, strangled sound coming from the back of his throat, before he’s diving in for that first mind melting kiss. 

Time stops for a moment, this fiery spark igniting between you both as fierce mouths move against one another, painfully desperate like it’s going to be over too soon, like if you stop it’ll never happen again. 

All inhibition is lost, Steve’s fingertips squeezing into the doughy flesh of your waist, somehow pushing you together even tighter, gripping you with a fierceness as your lips move together. Like he’s staking a claim — mine, mine, mine.

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, begging for entry silently, which you allow him willingly with a high pitched, contented moan. He’s experimental, swiping the tip of his tongue against your own lightly, lapping until he’s pulling these little noises from you, and it has your core aching. 

The light smacking sounds of moistened lips in an otherwise void room is an almost painful reminder that this was real.

Your shaking fingertips move from the table to grip at the front of Steve’s jacket, desperate hands trying to rip at the material, because a simple kiss was never going to be enough. Now that you had him and knew he wanted you back.

“We can’t,” Steve whines, pitiful against your lips as you struggle to stop, chasing his mouth with your own in a feverish passion as he barely tries to pull back from you, “you keep making these noises, m’not gonna be able to stop.” 

You bring your hands up to cup Steve’s jaw on instinct, without even thinking about it, holding him in place so he can’t fight with himself to get away, “Want it, Steve. I want you,” you breathe, sincere and pleading, guiding him back to kiss you again and he melts into you, “wanted it since the first time you stepped foot in here. Wanted you to want me too.”

“Always fuckin’ wanted you,” Steve mumbles, those soft, fucking perfect lips brushing yours as he speaks, so desperate it’s like he can’t bare to move back any further, “you’re so beautiful, shit. Need you, can I have you?”

You nod without hesitation as Steve's hands tighten on your waist, intensifying the urgency between your bodies. The kiss deepens, a mix of desperation and desire, creating a raw, feral, and unmistakably intimate connection.

Steve's lips become a drug, setting off sparks within you, and the forbidden tension hangs heavy in the air. Breaking away, his admission of always wanting you fuels the flames, and his calloused fingertips trace over your flushed skin as he murmurs, "Wanna do that forever," he murmurs, taking a moment to lock eyes with you, before reconnecting your lips once more.

A desperate groan escapes Steve's chest, a tenor of pent-up emotion. His fingers dig into your waist and jaw, revealing the battle within him – wanting you intensely but also grappling with the fear of irreversible damage. 

Your desperation and passion counteracts his conflicted motions, hands tightly clinging to his jacket, expressing the longing and fire coursing through you. 

Steve's plea transforms into a primal growl as he pulls you closer, creating an animalistic admission of want and yearning, leaving not an inch of space between you, pressing you up so tightly against the table that your ass mounts it properly — you willingly spread your legs for him, allowing him entry so that he can slot between your thighs.

Whatever boundaries you were trying to keep are long gone.

“You’re soaking, baby,” Steve notes, the tip of his tongue swiping along your bottom lip, “you need to get out of these clothes.”

“You think you’re so smooth,” you giggle, the delicate sound pitching into a moan when Steve dips down to mouth at your jaw, “think I’m soaked in more ways than one.” 

Steve grunts against your skin, his teeth grazing against the side of your throat. He rocks his hips into your own, and you have to suppress an embarrassing sound when you feel the half hard outline of his cock press against you. 

“You gonna be a gentleman and take me to my room?” You tease, fingers traveling from Steve’s jacket and up into his hair, nails tangling in the tresses and tugging him closer. You relish in how he finally bites down on your skin properly, determined to mark you as his own.

“What if I wanna do it right here, huh?” Steve mutters, kissing over the raised, abused skin on your neck, “You want that, princess? 

You nod, just once, a deep heat pooling in your gut, and that’s enough to have Steve pulling desperately at your dress. Calloused fingertips slide the spaghetti straps down your shoulders, and you help him take you out of the offending material, shimmying until it pools at your feet.

Steve groans, low in the back of his throat as he takes in your body, now barely covered by a skimpy black thong and a lacy bra. You burn hot under his intense gaze, squealing when his large hands snake under the backs of your thighs, kneading the fat between his fingers as he hoists you back onto the table.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” Steve mumbles, massaging your thighs that you willingly spread open for him once again, a silent invitation.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, moaning when he drops to his knees in one fluid motion, wrapping your legs around his shoulders as he goes. 

One thing that is apparent, is Steve’s love of eye contact. Touching you everywhere his body can reach, and it drives you up the damn wall. His eyes are darkened with lust as he trails hot, wet kisses up the insides of your thighs, pushing your legs apart further so he can slot his broad shoulders in the space.

The anticipation bubbles deep in your gut, cunt fluttering as he dips two fingers into the material of your panties, pulling them to the side to expose you to the warm air. You feel him squeeze you tighter, gaze moving to take in the sight of your slick pussy, ready and waiting for him.

“Mmph, she’s so pretty,” Steve moans, leaning forward in an instant to bury his face into the wetness of your cunt, running his nose over the bump of your clit as his tongue snakes out to taste you, lapping messily. 

“Steve!” You gasp his name, fingers immediately finding home in his honey highlighted tresses, sinking in and tugging lightly, pushing him closer to you.

It spurs him on, those fucking hands squeezing and pulling at the flesh of your inner thighs hard enough to bruise, burying his face into you deeper and grunting like you’re the best thing he ever tasted. He’s messy, lapping up and down the expanse of your core, suckling on your clit with a perfect pressure. 

“Shit, shit,” you’re basically wailing, hips rolling into Steve’s face and he just takes it, lets you guide him with your hands, moving him where you want him to go. 

He never breaks eye contact, watches you with these hazy, pussy drunk eyes as he gives you everything you want and more. Moaning into the heat of your cunt like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

“Keep doing that, m’gonna cum, haa,” you’re babbling, incoherent as your tummy rolls with sheer pleasure, Steve never once letting up on his assault with his tongue.

If anything, your words have him doubling down, pressing in so far you’re not sure he’s even able to breathe. Your orgasm hits you suddenly, violently, has you pulling on Steve’s hair so hard you know his scalp has to be aching, and you finally squeeze your eyes shut tight as you ride it out.

You know you’re gushing for Steve, making a mess of his face with the slickness that spills from your cunt, thighs shaking and locking him in tight in the aftershocks. He doesn’t let up until you’re physically jerking away, fingers running through his hair softly as your hips shudder. 

You’re barely on the same planet, unable to comprehend it when Steve rises from between your legs and kisses you deeply, feeding the taste of yourself to you. You moan, hands coming up to squeeze Steve’s face as you deepen the kiss, swapping spit and rocking against each other. 

It’d be disgusting if it wasn’t so erotic.

“You’re so hot,” Steve moans, pushing into you until the curve of his clothed cock presses tight into the cavern of your soaked cunt, eliciting breathy whines from you both, “need you now, yeah?” 

You nod, and he’s pulling you from the table in an instant.

Clothes scatter along the floor as Steve takes you to the bedroom, practically carrying you like you’re nothing. Neither of you leave an inch of space between each other as you rip his shirt over his head, tugging at the offending leather belt that keeps his jeans in place.

“Off, need them off,” you gasp, finally popping the button and burying your hand into his underwear. Tackiness on your fingertips from where the head of his painfully hard cock has been pressed tightly in the confines of his clothes.

Steve chuckles, pushes his hips into your hand and you finally get to feel him. Hot, hard, heavy in your hand — big enough that your eyes widen, and he’s burying his face in your neck to hide his embarrassment, biting at your shoulder.

“Didn’t get called King Steve for nothing,” he mutters, a red flush on his cheeks that he buries in your skin. 

“The girls weren’t kidding.” you gasp, wrapping your hand around what you can reach and tugging slightly until he’s bucking into your grasp.

You’re pushed through your bedroom door, backs of your knees hitting the end of the bed unexpectedly. You bounce back onto it, pulling Steve with you, a tangle of limbs on an unmade bed that smells vaguely of the vanilla perfume you’d sprayed earlier. 

“Couldn’t let a guy get his pants off first?” Steve grins, pulling back and looking physically wounded as he does it, to shimmy out of the remainder of his clothing.

In the soft lighting, he looks ethereal. The moles and beauty marks are everywhere, branding perfectly tanned skin, a soft tummy that just barely conceals a set of abs. He’s perfect, like a wet dream, and here he is in your room, in your bed, crawling back between your spread thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” Steve sighs, leaning down once again to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his torso rolling into yours as he steals your breath from your lungs.

It’s everything. The way you move together like you know each other's bodies perfectly, touching each other with a familiarity despite this being the first time.

A hand crawls up your inner thigh, and two deft fingers sink into your cunt, crooking up and finding that spot, running against it until you’re arching under his touch.

Your own hand crawls between your dancing bodies, wrapping properly around the length of Steve’s cock, tugging half heartedly until he’s growling into your mouth, his hips punching forward into your touch.

Time passes like molasses, it could be two minutes or twenty, until you’re both gasping and desperate. Not even kissing anymore, just lightly panting with brushing lips. 

“Want it, want you to fuck me now.” You beg, clenching around Steve’s fingers for emphasis, cunt soaked and fluttering, needing more.

Steve nods, sliding his fingers from inside of you, understanding every word and desperate plea. He clasps your hand in his own, bringing them up to rest beside your head in the nest of pillows, “You ready, baby? I’ll take it slow, know I’m a stretch.” 

You nod, any witty remark dying in the back of your throat. The want and hunger for Steve overrides any other feeling, your brain fogged with nothing but him and his body tight against yours.

Steve grasps hold of his cock by the base, head bowing so he can watch as he presses the head snug against your cunt. 

You both inhale a shuddery breath at the same time, and suddenly he’s pushing in — inch by inch filling you out. You whimper, fingers digging into Steve’s, a mewl escaping you as you push up into his torso. 

Steve looks up at you, sincere and checking in, “You okay?” 

“Keep going,” you gasp, hips swiveling.

Steve’s mouth hangs open in a silent moan, watches as his cock slides into your wet pussy like it was made to be there, taking every last inch of him until he’s nestled up against you.

You jolt when the thick thatch of hair nestled at his pubic bone catches on your swollen, throbbing clit. A breathy, panting whine clawing up from your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, princess. Not gonna last long,” Steve admits pulling out a few inches only to slide right back in, making home, “god, like you were made to take me.” 

You flush at Steve’s words, “You can– you can move properly. Fuck me like you want.” 

“Don’t say that, princess.” Steve whines, fingers gripping your hips, “You let me have what I want and I’ll never let you leave.” 

Your heart beats faster, harder, whole body alight with all these different feelings, tugging at every part of you. 

Full on Steve’s cock and holding his fucking hand. It’s heavenly.

Steve pulls out properly this time, pushing back in and creating a punishing rhythm that has you mewling and spewing out these horribly loud moans and cries for him. The head of his cock nudges at your spot dead-on with each thrust, has you over-stimulated ridiculously fast, it teeters on the right side of painful.

Your fingers dig into Steve’s skin, other hand wrapping around his bicep. A moan escaping you as he dips down to kiss and nibble at your neck, “You’re so big, holy shit. Feels so good, so good.”

“Yeah?” Steve grins at you, cocky and sure of himself and you almost catch a glimpse of the old Steve in it, which somehow makes the entire thing even sexier. One thing Steve Harrington was so sure he was good at was fucking, and you feed into his ego with the way your body reacts to him. 

Sweaty skin slapping against skin, the creaking of your bed frame under the vigorous movements. The pants and cries that flow from your mouth with every hard thrust, the grunts that rattle from deep in Steve’s chest. It’s pure filth, everything you wanted and needed.

“Y-yeah, I— I—” You stutter as your orgasm crescendos, legs wrapping tightly around his waist, heels of your feet digging into the small of his back. Nails breaking skin on Steve’s arm as you shake and shudder through it, body practically vibrating with the sheer force of it. 

“You needed that huh, princess? Needed me to pull that from you?” Steve whispers, a moan leaving him as he fucks you even harder, chasing his own orgasm, “Fuckin’ gripping me, holy fuck.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, unable to stop how your cunt flutters sporadically for him, taking everything he gives you and then some.

“Holy shit, baby,” Steve breathes, fucked out and chest heaving, “m’gonna cum, gonna cum in your perfect little pussy.” 

“Please,” you beg, back arching and somehow pushing Steve in even deeper, eliciting matching moans of pleasure from you both, “please, please.”

“Shit – fuckin’ begging me to cum in you, you’re so perfect, shit.” He grunts, hips slamming into you as he nears the end, thrusts becoming short and snappy, rhythm faltering.

Your nails dig into Steve’s bicep, pushing your nose against his softly, ghosting a kiss over his lips, “Wanna feel you spilling in me, please? Mark me, I’m yours.” 

He moans loudly at your words, the noise so beautiful it’s like music in your ears. You’d almost be smug about being the person to pull it from him, if it weren’t for how fucked out he’d left you.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, pushing his face into your neck as his body wracks with his orgasm. He grunts into your damp skin, cock pulsing rhythmically inside the fluttering walls of your pussy.

You can feel it so fucking strongly it’s almost hard to breathe.

It’s sticky and messy as Steve untangles his sweaty limbs from your own, landing a gentle kiss on your nose. You flush hot, burning up at how ridiculously domesticated the simple motion is.

He pulls out sloppily, flopping down next to you on the bed and hauling you into his warm embrace. It’s — it’s unexpected, so soft and sweet that you tense for a second only to loosen up and settle your head on his chest.

The air is heavy and warm in the afterglow. Steve's gaze lingers on yours, a moment shared in silence, acknowledging your mutual feelings without a single word. 

You’re leaning up to kiss him again, unable to contain it, when suddenly the bubble is shattered, the bedroom door swinging open abruptly. 

Eddie stands in the doorway, his features screwed up with a mixture of shock and anger.

"Steve, what the hell?" Eddie's scratchy voice cuts through the stillness, his eyes narrowing as they dart between you and Steve. Steve bolts upright, panicked and caught off guard, shifting uncomfortably under Eddie's intense gaze.

"Eddie, I can explain," you begin, panic rising in your chest as you sit up and pull the sheets closer around you. The atmosphere suddenly becomes charged with tension, and Eddie's expression tightens further.

"Explain? Explain what, exactly?! That my best friend is in bed with my-my – dammit dude, she’s like a sister to me! What the hell?!" Eddie's tone is sharp, a mix of disbelief and fury. Steve runs a hand through his disheveled hair, clearly searching for words that could help calm the escalating situation.

"Eddie, it just happened. We didn't plan—" Steve starts, but Eddie interrupts with a held up ringed hand.

Neither of you push it any further, words dying in both of your throats at such a simple movement. You’re so far apart by now that Steve is basically hanging off the edge of the bed, and you can’t help the way your heart feels fucking heavy with it.

"I don't care. This is not okay. I told you not to touch her, Steve. She’s not a girl to play with." Eddie's disappointment is palpable, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

The room is filled with a devastating silence, broken only by echoes of Eddie's anger and the heavy weight of his boots shuffling along the hard floor as he walks away. The trailer door slams shut so hard that the entire shell ricochets with the force. 

It all becomes so painful once Steve hauls himself off of the bed, frantically throwing on every strewn article of clothing that he’d shed just hours earlier, his head bowed like he can’t even bear to look at you. Like he’s scared and doesn’t want to face up to everything that happened.

You can’t even blame him. 

“Steve, wait,” you start, vision blurring at the edges as panic starts to set in, grappling to come to terms with the fact this was all going to be over, “don’t listen to him. He’s wrong, I know you – you don’t. You don’t do that anymore, you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“No he – he’s right,” Steve’s eyes reflect with sadness, the weight of his words lying deep in the pit of your stomach, “I have a reputation. We all know that. He’s trying to protect you, his heart is in the right place.” 

“But Steve-” 

“Eddie’s right, princess. There’s something there, I know it. But,” Steve sighs, shaking his head, “if this doesn’t work out I lose you and him. I can’t risk not having you both.” 

“Steve, will you listen to me, please?” You plead, clambering in a moment of panic to get off of the bed, sheet still wrapped firmly around your naked frame. You shuffle over ungracefully, until you’re standing toe to toe with him, “I like you. You felt it like I felt it. I– I want this.” 

You can almost see Steve’s internal struggle, the way his face crumples once he catches your teary eyes with his own devastated hues. His hands itch at his sides, and then suddenly those strong arms are wrapping around you, pulling you into his orbit and lifting you onto your tiptoes.

You wrap your arms around his middle, fingers grasping at the stretched material of his shirt, clinging on for dear life, "Steve, I really fucking like you, and I can't stand by and watch you walk away from this because of some misplaced sense of loyalty.” 

Steve’s chin rests atop your head, and you feel every bit of the deep sigh he lets out, “You trust me too much, like you know I’m not going to fuck up. I wish I could trust myself even half as much.”

Your reaction is immediate, frustration bubbling up inside of you as you listen to Steve talk down on himself, “You’ll never hurt me. You’re not some ticking time bomb just waiting to ruin everything. Allow yourself the courtesy of taking what you want and letting yourself fuck up. I’m strong enough to handle it.”

“I’ve messed up so many times in the past that I’m scared I’ll hurt you without meaning to,” Steve winces, clinging to you even tighter, cocooning you in his embrace, “I couldn’t live with myself if I did that shit.” 

You pull away slightly, bringing a hand up to cup his jaw, forcing him to face you and really soak in every word you say, “You’re fucking human, Steve. I’m not asking you to be perfect.”

Steve’s face etches with vulnerability, those damned eyes filled with hurt, but his body relaxes slightly, acknowledging what you’re trying to say, “You’re perfect.” 

Your stomach lurches, heart hammering where it sits beneath your ribcage, this pathetic grin taking over, “I promise you, I’m not. Wait until you realize just how many flaws I have — like being so terrible at cooking that I burn toast.”

Steve lets out a snort, eyes crinkling in the corners, fondness washing over him, “I’ll teach you,” he mumbles, leaning in a little, “if you’ll teach me something in return.” 

“Anything.” You breathe, pushing up to bridge the gap. Your noses brush, Steve’s hands gripping onto the soft flesh of your waist a little firmer.

Steve grins, mischievous, “Teach me how to have patience. I’ve been told it’s a virtue I’m seriously lacking, Dustin rags on me all the time about it.”

You let out a soft laugh, the tension from earlier dissipating in an instant, "Patience it is, though I’m not sure how much of it I even have. And you better be ready for some burnt toast along the way."

Steve chuckles, a low, melodic sound that sends shivers down your spine, "I think I can handle that."

He bridges the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours and sealing the agreement.

[nonranghaes]

when joshua opens the door, you're soaking wet from the rain. his eyes bulge at the sight of you--the pounding at his door already had put a spring in his step--but he's quick to turn on his heel and rush to the bathroom. when he comes back, you're only a step closer. not quite inside his apartment, but not lingering out in the hallway.

he throws the towel around you, already working to dry you off. "you could have called me to give you a ride--"

"i love you."

immediately, he freezes. "you... what?"

you push the towel back from your face, peeking up from the floor to look at his face. "i love you?" you pause. "remember what you said after my last breakup?"

that was months ago, but he does. one day you would be wholeheartedly loved by someone and you would love them, too, and they'd be the luckiest person in the world. and now you're standing in front of him, soaked to the bone, as you smile at him like you've won the lottery.

you poke the center of his chest. "don't try to get out of this, hong. jeonghan already told me you feel the same way when he told me to 'get over myself' and confess."

"i'm not," he chuckles, and he's back to drying you off. "i'm not saying it back, though."

you blink. "huh?"

"take me out to dinner first," he chuckles. "and then i'll say it."

it earns a giggle from you. "i'll hold you to it."

[bookwormjust]

Drenched by the rain (Lucien is your mate, use of his power)

You pushed the door open to the apartment, the rain still pouring outside in relentless sheets, leaving you utterly drenched and shivering from the cold. The sound of the rain hitting the streets of Velaris was usually comforting, but tonight, it had been unforgiving, soaking you through and through as you rushed home. You sighed in relief as you stepped inside, the warmth of the apartment a stark contrast to the chill that clung to your skin.

"You're home," came Lucien's deep, soothing voice from the living room, drawing your attention. He was already standing by the doorway, his russet-red hair catching the soft glow of the fire he’d lit. His mismatched eyes—one gleaming gold, the other a warm brown—locked onto yours immediately, concern flickering in them as he took in your soaked appearance. "And completely drenched, it seems."

You smiled weakly, your teeth chattering as you tried to peel off your wet coat. "It wasn’t supposed to rain this hard. I didn’t have any magic left to shield myself."

Lucien crossed the room in a few quick strides, reaching you before you could fully pull the coat off. He took it from your trembling hands, hanging it by the door before turning his full attention back to you. His touch was gentle as he ran his hands down your arms, feeling the cold that had seeped into your bones.

"You’re freezing," he murmured, his brows knitting together with concern. Without another word, you felt a soft wave of heat radiating from his hands as his power stirred to life. Warmth flowed into your skin, spreading through your body like a blanket of gentle fire. It wasn’t an overwhelming heat, just enough to chase the cold away and soothe your shivering muscles.

You closed your eyes briefly, letting out a soft sigh of relief as the warmth wrapped around you. Lucien’s power had always been comforting, like a hearth on a winter’s night, and you could feel the tension in your body slowly ease. He smiled down at you, his expression softening as he watched you relax under the warmth of his magic.

"Better?" he asked, his voice low and affectionate.

"Much better," you replied, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. "You always know exactly what I need."

Lucien chuckled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. "That’s my job, isn’t it?" His thumb lightly caressed your cheek, his touch gentle as he tilted your chin up to press a kiss to your forehead. "Come here, let me get you properly warmed up."

He led you to the couch near the fire, wrapping a soft blanket around your shoulders before pulling you into his lap. You settled against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. His arms wrapped around you, his hands tracing soothing patterns along your back as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, everything was perfect. You felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved in Lucien’s embrace. He rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers lightly combing through your hair as the warmth of his power lingered around you like a protective cocoon.

"You always take care of me," you murmured, your voice soft and filled with gratitude.

"And I always will," he replied, his voice filled with a quiet, steady promise. "You’re my mate. It’s my honor to make sure you’re always safe, warm, and loved."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. The warmth of the fire, Lucien's comforting presence, and the quiet intimacy of the moment made everything feel right again, no matter how cold or chaotic the world outside might be. 

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hero shows up at the gates of villain’s manor, all beat up and heavily injured, looking to seek help. Of course, they immediately get treated roughly & shoved away by the guards at the gate. But little do they know that just as villain was about to exit the gates to go somewhere, they witness the scene and immediately comes to the hero’s rescue. Then proceeds to shoot a death glare to their guards, promising to deal with them later after taking care of their hero :)

Before another plea could drop from their lips, the hero fell to their knees. Rain and blood soaked alike through the many layers of their uniform and the adrenaline was fading ever so slightly.

Somewhere in their exhausted mind, they decided to sleep right here in front of the door if they had to. Even if it meant they’d freeze to death. What else was there to do?

It must’ve looked funny how the hero had collapsed there and readied themselves to beg again. As if they were a worshipper who prayed to a god that would never answer.

The guards had no sympathy left for them and the hero couldn’t even blame them — they were the enemy after all, the big bad enemy. But the punches and the pushing around…that had robbed the hero of all the energy and hope they had had left.

“Please,” they tried again. Their voice was hoarse. Their throat burnt. “I can’t go home.”

One of the guards laughed and the hero lowered their head. It was easy to focus on the rain instead of the unkind words the other spoke. After a few other insults, the hero stopped listening and concentrated on their breathing. Keeping themselves alive was a priority right now. They didn’t need disgusting comments.

They needed bandages, they needed rubbing alcohol. They needed a bathroom and towels. They needed needles. Thread.

Maybe a hand to hold onto.

The hero closed their eyes for just a moment. They figured no one would see the tear running down their cheek when it rained cats and dogs like this.

When had they become this fragile? They couldn’t remember. But they knew the wound burnt into their shoulder and that the blood would seriously trouble them in a few minutes.

They were sure they’d pass out any second now.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

The hero gathered the strength to look up and to their surprise, they saw their nemesis, all dressed up. Confused, the hero looked around, only to find the two guards further away, talking quietly. They avoided to look into their direction.

The villain looked upset.

“You…”

The villain shook their head and tutted. They crouched and their fancy clothes got drenched in filthy puddle water. The hero wanted to protest but forming words was so, so difficult right now.

“You don’t look good,” the villain said. They cupped the hero’s face with one hand but the hero realised a little too late that it wasn’t an offer of affection. The villain was merely checking if they had a fever. In their voice was a hint of frustration. “I’m sorry about that.”

“…about?” The villain’s hands went over the hero’s body quickly and even though the hero understood they were searching for broken bones, they wanted the villain’s hand to stay on them a little longer.

“My guards...I’m sorry they treated you like that.” Now, the villain’s voice was calmer. A bit more controlled.

“Oh…” The hero tasted bile. For whatever reason, they felt bad that the villain was here, getting their clothes all dirty and punishing their guards.

No matter what they did, the hero felt like a burden. Even now when they truly needed help.

“What happened to your shoulder?” the villain asked.

“Are you gonna kill them?” the hero asked quietly.

“The people who did this to you? Probably.”

“I meant your guards,” the hero said. They stared at the two, suddenly feeling anxious. Maybe they shouldn’t have come here. Whatever they touched only decayed.

But the villain chuckled softly. The hero felt some sort of relief.

“No, of course not,” they said. Nevertheless, their gaze on the two wasn’t that friendly. “They’ll get a scolding, of course. But there’s no need for any harsh punishments.”

Their expression was soft now and the hero couldn’t help but feel the sweet comfort of their enemy’s hands on them. The pain in their shoulder was merciless and they were quite sure death was already kissing them. But it didn’t feel urgent.

“…your clothes,” the hero whispered. The expensive fabric was drenched in blood and rain. The hero felt guilty.

“I won’t go to the auction, don’t worry.”

“The auction?” the hero whispered but they started to feel quite lightheaded.

“Don’t worry about that. One more thing, though. You told my guards you can’t go home. Why’d you come here?” the villain asked. The hero didn’t realise it yet but the villain pulled them closer to pick them up.

“Ah, that’s kinda embarrassing—”

“I won’t judge you.” The villain’s lips brushed the hero’s ear now and the hero couldn’t help but shiver.

They grabbed the hero, ready to pick them up and the hero nearly mistook them for an angel.

“I kinda still live with my parents…I know it’s embarrassing but—”

“Don’t worry.” The villain’s smile was warm. “Today you’ll stay with me.”

The hero knew there was no room for a debate.

[autumnywinter]

can you pretty pls do more yandere elliot?

I hope this is good! I don't know if it's obvious or not, but he's my favorite character to write for.

Yandere!Elliott x Reader

Tags: Stalking, manipulation, mentioned blackmail, gender neutral reader

From the day you and Elliott met, you had become pretty close. Moving made it pretty hard to befriend anyone, especially due to your schedule, but Elliott seemed always available for you, always nearby and ready for a conversation. You and him had practically became best friends within the first few months of knowing each other. Elliott was a sweet guy, one that you cherished as a good friend.

Over the time you had moved, you had been trying to get back into dating. Elliott was supportive, and was always there to cry on when you were inevitably ghosted or dumped after one date.

This one really hurt, however. You were really into this person you had a date with, just for them to never speak again after the second date.

You turned to the one person you felt like would always be there for you. Elliott. You knocked on the door of his cabin, trying not to cry. It was pouring rain outside, soaking you to the bone. Your clothes clung to your skin, hair soaked and dripped down to your neck uncomfortably.

Elliott opened the door, worry immediately painting his face when he saw you shivering violently in front of him. "Y/n! What happened? Come inside, it's freezing out there!" He ushered you inside quickly, shutting the door behind you both. Elliott helped take off your jacket, hanging it up near the fireplace to dry it quicker.

"I'm sorry for showing up unannounced," you mumbled.

"Don't apologize, it's alright. Here, let me get you some dry clothes," Elliott said. He rushed into the restroom, coming back out with a fluffy purple towel and a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants.

It made you feel a little better imagining him own and wear such casual clothing. He had a huge vocabulary, but "casual" wasn't exactly something you assumed was in his dictionary. Even now, he was dressed in a beige turtleneck and black slacks.

Elliott dried your hair off with the towel gently, making sure to get all of the water out as best as he could. He then handed the clothing to you, turning around politely so you could change without him looking.

You quickly stripped from your wet clothing, putting on Elliott's warm, dry clothing instead. They smelled like ink and pine. Kind of like the trees that grew around your home.

"I'm done. Thanks," you told him.

He turned back around to face you. His cheeks were dusted pink, looking you up and down. Elliott cleared his throat and broke away his stare. "Of course. Do you want something to drink? I recently bought some hot chocolate, but I have tea too."

"Hot chocolate sounds nice," you responded quietly. Elliott smiled and went into the kitchen, returning shortly with two mugs of hot cocoa. He handed you one, sitting down on the couch next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, to the point where you were basically laying on top of him.

It was normal for cuddling to ensue between the both of you. Elliott was a very touchy person, always holding your hand or hugging you tightly. You never minded, though. Elliott was always soft and warm. It was comforting.

Elliott's hand drifted to your still-damp hair, massaging your scalp. You let out a content sigh, melting into Elliott's hold. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Your contentment dissolved into sadness again. "I was ghosted. Again. And I really thought they were into me."

He cooed and put his own mug down on the coffee table in front of you both before taking yours. You followed suit when he opened his arms invitingly.

You crawled into his lap, arms around his neck and head buried into the crook of it. Elliott buried his nose deep into your hair and inhaled. You were too busy crying to notice.

Elliott's arms tightened around you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. "Shh... it's okay. You deserve the world, and if they don't realize that, they were never worth it to begin with."

"I think I'm the problem. It has to be something I'm doing if--what, three people now?--have already ghosted me after one or two dates." You leaned into his warm hands that thumbed away your tears. "Maybe I'm just unlovable."

Elliott stiffened underneath you and his expression hardened. "No. Y/n, look at me," he said. He never sounded so firm before.

You lifted your head up to look at him. Elliott's eyes softened as soon as he looked at your tear-stained face.

"You are not unlovable. If anything, it's their loss. You're wonderful and kind and absolutely gorgeous. If they can't see that, then they're idiots. Okay?" Elliott leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss onto your forehead. "And perhaps, true love isn't as far away as you think it is."

You were too tired to look into his usual flowery words. Instead, you nodded and curled up against him again. Elliott returned to holding you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

He hummed to you. His hand stayed in your hair, another one on your back keeping you pressed against him.

When you woke up, you were tucked comfortably into Elliott's bed. The blankets were heavy on top of you, warm and cozy. Elliott was still holding you, but you could hear his soft snores. You smiled a little to yourself. He must've carried you here. Elliott was a sweetheart, even when you cried into him for hours until you fell asleep from exhaustion.

You laid there for a while longer, trying to fall back asleep. You couldn't, though, so you carefully slipped out of Elliott's grip to find the bathroom.

Despite having been in his cabin many times, you never actually went anywhere but the kitchen and living room. Elliott's cabin was small, but the darkness made it seem a lot larger than it actually was. You didn't want to turn on the lights to wake him, so you fumbled for your phone but couldn't find it.

Trying not to trip over anything, you shuffled around until you were sure you found the doorknob to the restroom. You closed the door behind you and flicked on the light, just to see a closet.

Just as you were going to walk out, you noticed something odd. A photo of you laid on top of a box. You curiously picked it up.

It wasn't a photo of you posing for the camera, or a selfie, or anything of that sort. It was a photo of you from far away, walking through town. The photo was clearly taken without your knowledge.

There were more photos under it. All of you. You were in every single one. Some of you shopping, some of you working, some of you talking to your friends. One of them even had you changing through the window. Your stomach churned when you saw one of you in bed, sleeping peacefully. You could see his shadow looming over you in that one.

It got more disturbing. You saw articles of your clothing that you had lost and never found. A pillowcase that was stained with hopefully your past drool, a used hairbrush, and various other things were inside the box too.

The door suddenly opened and you jumped, dropping everything in your hands. You backed up against the wall, staring at Elliott with wide eyes.

He stared back at you, eyes flickering from you to the box and pictures on the floor. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. After a few seconds, he finally spoke. "Y/n, it's not what it looks like."

"Then what is it, Elliott?" you asked shakily. "What the hell is this?"

Elliott ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. He crouched down and started picking up the pictures you dropped. "Please, listen to me. I would never hurt you. I just... I couldn't help myself." He collected all the photos with shaky hands and put them back in the box.

You didn't know why you weren't running. You should be sprinting out the door by now, but something kept you frozen in place. Elliott slowly stood up and took a step towards you. You flinched.

"I love you," he confessed. "So much. I've never felt this way about anyone in my life. I was so depressed before I met you. Everything was dark and meaningless. But then I met you." He stood close enough to cup your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheekbones. "You are everything to me. My light, my heart, my reason to live. I can't imagine living without you. I need you like I need air. Every time you're away from me feels like torture."

He leaned in close, forehead pressed against yours. You were still processing everything.

Elliott's breath tickled your lips. "I would do anything for you. Kill for you. Die for you. Anything you want, I'll give it to you. I could treat you so much better than those... people ever could." He spat out the word 'people', resisting to use another word to describe them.

Realization dawned on you. "Did you kill them?!"

"Of course not! I just," he dragged out a long sigh, letting you back away from him, "scared them away. If threatening them didn't work, I got blackmail on them. That was the only way your last date left you alone."

Your knees were weak. "You're sick."

Elliott frowned deeply. "I'm in love." You opened your mouth, but he cut you off. "Who do you go to when you're sad? Me. Who do you talk to about your problems? Me. Who do you call when you need comfort? Me. I'm the one who's always there for you, Y/n. Not them. Maybe you don't realize it, but you need me just as much as I need you."

"We're done talking, Elliott," you said. You tried to push past him to leave, but he grabbed your wrists tightly. You winced. "Let me go."

"I'll die without you. Please, stay," Elliott begged. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. I just got overwhelmed. I promise I'll be better. Just please, don't leave me. I can't handle losing you. I'd never ever hurt you."

Your shoulders sagged, so Elliott let his grip only slightly loosen. "You're scaring me."

Elliott cooed. "Oh, sweetheart. You have nothing to be scared of. I could never hurt you. I just love you so much." He released your wrists completely, only to wrap you up in a tight hug. "I just want what's best for you. And that's me. I can take care of you. You wouldn't have to lift a finger. I'll cook for you, clean for you, I'll do anything for you." Elliott was almost crying into your shoulder. His entire body was shaking.

Your fear and disgust turned into pity. Elliott was clearly sick. He needed help. You wrapped your arms around him hesitantly. Elliott melted into your hold like butter. He held you tighter, if that was possible.

"Elliott, you need help. This isn't normal." You rubbed his back in an awkward attempt to comfort him.

"I don't need help, I just need you." Elliott buried his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent.

You pursed your lips. Elliott was a good friend. He was always there for you. That was the only thing that prevented you from storming out the door or slapping him across the face. Well, that and the fact you were still terrified of him. "Why don't we lay down? It's late."

Elliott pulled away to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were red from crying. He nodded. "Yes, you must be tired. Let's go lay down." Elliott took your hand and lead you into his bedroom again. You both laid down and Elliott immediately wrapped his arms and legs around you. Your face was almost smothered into his chest, and his scent didn't carry the same comforting smell as it normally did.

"Elliott?"

"Hm?"

"Will you let me leave in the morning?"

Elliott was silent for a moment. You thought he might've fallen asleep until he replied, "We'll talk about it in the morning."

That was code for "probably not".

[goblinontour]

Playground Love

principles and piercings

warnings: dad!alex, fluff, talking, that’s it, the kid is mentioned but not present

word count: 4.9k

The sound of the door seemed to echo through the empty house, punctuating your frustration. You slammed it behind you, exhaling a rough, irritated breath. “Fuck.” The word left your lips in a low groan, half-lost in the rumble of thunder that chased you inside. The rain hadn’t just soaked you – it had become a cold, unyielding second skin, seeping through your sweater, tracing icy rivulets down your neck and arms. Each drop felt like a reminder of his refusal to leave the house this morning, his insistence that you go instead. All because he insisted on playing his brooding poet routine. Stuck inside like a house cat that could no longer bear the sun, playing reclusive vampire. As if the world outside these walls had become foreign, too bright, too sharp for him to tread.

The sky was a dense shade of grey, heavy with clouds that looked like bruises on the horizon. The air had smelled thick and metallic, almost electric, as if the storm carried something more ominous in its folds. And yet, he’d chosen to stay here, curled up in his warm little corner, lost in whatever book had captured his interest this time, entirely detached from the reality you had to walk through alone.

As you shrugged off your drenched coat, it landed with a damp, resigned thud on the hallway bench. The boots took more effort, sticky from mud and pooling rainwater, but you tugged them off and let them drop, watching as small puddles began to spread across the floor. Normally, you’d tidy it up, make sure the mess didn’t creep into the house. Today, you let it lie there, like a silent reminder of what you’d endured.

You made your way through the silent house, feeling the warmth of it slowly seep into your bones. And that’s when you spotted him, his little mop of hair barely visible above the couch cushions, the tips messy and almost comically unkempt, contrasting with the stillness of the room. He sat in his typical lounging position, legs tucked under him, shoulders hunched slightly, a small crease on his forehead as he concentrated on the words in front of him. His headphones were big, cocooning him in sound, book in one hand, and a cup of tea cradled in the other, the soft tendrils of steam curling up like wisps of smoke.

You could tell from the slight furrow in his brow and the relaxed set of his jaw that he was somewhere else entirely, lost in a place he always retreated to. He hadn’t noticed you – he never did, not when he was like this. You watched as he flipped a page, moving as if in a trance, his thumb tracing the corner of the book’s edge in a habitual, absent-minded way, like the very act of reading was a ritual for him.

You stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, half-amused, half-annoyed. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, you thought, a mantra fighting against the urge that was rising within you. But his hair looked so irresistibly soft, so inviting, and that little voice inside you – the one that always wanted to shake him out of his dreamy, unreachable state – was louder today. He’d been distant for days now, and this simple, innocent moment of solitude felt almost selfish, given the morning you’d had.

He deserved a jolt back to reality, you reasoned. A reminder that you were still here, dripping wet from the storm he had refused to brave.

You let your hand hover just above his head, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, to see the finer details of the little dark waves framing his face. And then, with a quick, almost mischievous swipe, you tangled your fingers in his hair, giving it a deliberate tousle.

Perfect. Just enough to pull him out of his own head.

The reaction was immediate. He tensed, his whole body freezing for a split second before he jerked just enough to spill a splash of tea over his fingers. He whipped around, tugging off his headphones with a startled look, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mix of surprise and irritation that slowly shifted to something softer when he saw your dripping clothes, the slight smirk on your face.

“Really?” he murmured, the ghost of a smile flickering at the corner of his lips.

“Really.” you replied, letting the word hang in the air, as if daring him to argue.

He looked down at his tea-stained hand, holding it up with an exaggerated sigh as if the sticky mess were some grand tragedy. His fingers curled, studying the small streaks that glistened against his skin, almost contemplative. He opened his mouth, maybe to complain, maybe to tease, but you cut him off.

“You could’ve done the school run.” you said, your tone light but laced with an unmistakable edge. “It’s just rain, not lava.”

He looked back at you, his eyes widening a fraction, a bemused expression flickering across his face as he processed your words. “I hate the rain.” he said, the statement soft, almost gentle, as if reminding you of something you’d forgotten about himself.

You shrugged, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the lingering dampness that still clung to your skin. “I hate a lot of things too.” you replied, though your voice softened as you watched him. “But I went anyway. Because she wanted someone to walk her in.”

He seemed to take that in, letting it settle in the silence between you, his gaze dropping to his tea-stained hand, then back to you, the smallest trace of guilt flashing across his face. You reached out, took his cup, and wrapped your chilled hands around its warmth. He watched as you took a long, slow sip, savouring the taste of the drink you hadn’t even made, letting the warmth seep into you while his eyes lingered on you with something like quiet regret.

The storm outside raged on, thunder rumbling low, but in here, in this small, still room, everything seemed to slow down. The two of you sat there, tangled in a shared silence, an unspoken understanding hanging heavy between you both. The rain might still be falling, but here, wrapped in his gaze and the faint aroma of tea and damp wool, you almost felt warm again.

Without a second thought, you sank down onto the couch beside him, invading his space, still damp and dripping. He could feel the cold fabric of your clothes sticking to his leg, but he didn’t move. If anything, he seemed to settle deeper into the cushions, unfazed, watching you with that quiet, stubborn gaze of his. The book, the well-worn Nabokov novel he’d been pouring over for days, slipped from his hand and came to rest on the coffee table, forgotten in favour of this small exchange.

He didn’t say a word as he reached for you, his hands curling around your ankle. With a practised focus, he began pulling off your damp socks, his fingers deft but gentle, peeling the fabric away like it was some chore he’d taken upon himself long ago. His thumb brushed the arch of your foot, lingering just enough to send a warm spark up your leg. You knew what he was doing, you could feel the unspoken offer in his touch. You’d come back from the rain, chilled and annoyed, and he would be the antidote to all of it, the warmth to counter your cold.

“Despair?” you asked, nodding at the worn paperback now lying on the table.

“Yeah.” he replied without opening his eyes, pressing his thumb deeper into the soft skin of your foot, working out the tension that had gathered there from the cold walk.

“Again?” you asked, with a bemused little smile. You’d watched him read Despair more times than you could count, seen the way he lingered over certain passages as if trying to unlock some hidden truth buried in the sentences.

“Well, it seems so, doesn’t it?” He looked up, a sly glint in his eyes as he took in your expression, the corners of his mouth quirking into the barest hint of a smirk.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “You gonna go through with it this time?”

“What? My own murder?” His smirk widened.

“I could do it for you, you know.” you said, feigning an air of indifference. “You couldn’t even get your kid to kindergarten – I doubt you’re qualified for something as ambitious as self-sabotage.”

He scoffed, but you saw the amusement flicker across his face. “Probably not.” he muttered, his voice dropping to something softer, almost pensive. “I’d mess that one up too.”

His hand shifted, his fingers pressing insistently into the sole of your foot, kneading, coaxing the tension out of you with a subtle, possessive touch. He watched as you shifted under his hands, his gaze steady, challenging. And as his fingers pressed, you pushed back, just enough to test his patience, to feel the resistance in his grip. His eyes darkened, a silent warning in his gaze.

But why would you listen to him?

You pressed harder, a slow, playful pressure against his hand, and he raised an eyebrow. He tightened his grip, his thumb digging in with renewed insistence, letting you feel the full weight of his focus as he worked, as if he could undo more than just the aches in your body, as if he could unearth something deeper in you, something he knew you were holding back.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting across your cheek as he murmured, “You think you could manage it?”

“What, getting rid of you?” you asked, your tone light, though you could feel the intensity thickening the air between you, wrapping around you like the rain-soaked clothes clinging to your skin.

He tilted his head, his lips curving in that knowing way of his, a slow, calculating smile as his gaze travelled over your face, settling somewhere just beyond your eyes. “Well,” he said softly, “you seem pretty adept at destruction. Thought I’d be spared for a bit.”

His thumb pressed deeper into the arch, his eyes flicking up to watch your reaction, to see if you’d break first, if you’d turn away or push back again. But you held his gaze, the words catching somewhere in your throat, held there.

“That so?” you said, tilting your head as you watched him, your voice low, as if you were offering him something far more dangerous than he was ready for. 

In the dim light of the sitting room, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw, the unruly hair that fell across his brow, the softness that lingered at the edges of his mouth even as his eyes held that impenetrable gaze. You could feel it gathering, the way the air seemed to hold its breath between you, as if it were waiting for one of you to give in.

But he held steady too, unwavering. He let his hand drift up, his fingers brushing your ankle with a gentle insistence that made you want to shiver. “You don’t want to be in charge of my destruction.” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You like having something to fight against.”

“Oh, do I?” you countered, feeling the pull, feeling the tension draw you closer to him, like a thread strung taut between you both, waiting to snap.

He leaned back, his gaze unreadable, but his hand remained on you, warm and grounding, as if he could keep you tethered to him. “Yeah.” he murmured, a smile just brushing his lips, like he was sharing a private joke with himself. “You love the fight.”

He closed his eyes again, pressing his thumb in one last time, a lingering pressure that seemed to say he knew you better than you’d ever admit, that he saw the dark, hidden corners you tried to keep from him. You felt it – the quiet ache that simmered between you both, like an unhealed bruise, tender and waiting for the next touch.

“So…Poppy-” you began, voice careful, trying to ease into what you wanted to say. The words were still a half-formed thought in your mind, and you were searching for a way to soften them, to bring them up without triggering one of his spiralling, introspective rants that would turn a simple conversation into a storm.

But he interrupted before you’d even figured out how to say it. “What? Did she want me to walk her?” He said it with that same, quiet self-reproach, already trying to shoulder a blame that hadn’t even been cast. That was the way he worked – always a little too ready to bear the weight, to assume that he’d fallen short.

You let out a sigh, more exasperated at the rain than at him. “No, you’re fine, Al.” Your hand slid over his, prying it gently from your foot, which he had clutched a little too tightly. His fingers held on tight before finally releasing, almost reluctant to let go. You pulled your leg back, shuffled into the corner of the couch, and leaned into it, letting your back slump down, finally allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of it. Your feet came up onto the coffee table, as if claiming that little space for yourself, unguarded and tired.

You patted the cushion beside you, a soft, wordless command. “Sit.”

And he did, moving closer, his gaze subdued, that obedient feline quality settling back over him, turning him soft and pliable as he folded himself to rest his head in your lap. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling rather than meeting your own, though you knew he could feel the quiet gravity in your touch, the way your fingers began moving through his hair, each pass aimed towards calming him. The warmth began to seep into your skin, radiating from him, taking the last chill of the rain from your bones.

He lay still, his face turned upward, shadows pooling beneath his eyes as he stared with an intensity that seemed directed at something only he could see. His voice, when it came, was soft, raw, like he was sharing something fragile, something he wasn’t sure you’d want to hear. “I got better, right?” His tone was almost tentative, like he needed the words to land softly, like he was testing their truth. “I know I was…pretty bad at this when she was littler. And I had that whole…thing.”

He trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant. Those times he’d tried so hard to keep hidden, when the house had felt more like a place you both haunted than lived in. The times when his silences had grown so deep, you worried they might swallow him whole. But he’d pulled through – though not without scars, not without shadows that still lingered.

“And I think…I think I was depressed.” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, as if naming it gave it too much power, as if he could scare it off by speaking it quietly. “But I don’t think I am anymore. I’m better, aren’t I?”

You nodded, letting the gentle motion of your hand convey your answer. You could feel his breath shift, his body relax as he let himself trust in the rhythm of your touch, let himself believe in what he couldn’t see from his place in your lap. “But I just- sometimes I feel like I need a break, you know? Like I need to step back, just for a moment, so I can keep being…better.” He sighed, and it sounded almost like a confession. “I’m sorry you had to go through the rain and everything. I should’ve gone. I’ll take her tomorrow, I promise.”

He promised.

The words hung between you, solid and steady, a commitment you could feel resonating through his voice, through the weight of his head in your lap, through the way his hand drifted to rest on your knee as if he needed something to hold him there. And you knew he meant it, even if you could also feel the fragility in his words, that lingering hesitation, the quiet plea beneath the promise. He was asking you to trust him again, to…believe. In this version of himself, the one that was still trying to figure out how to hold the weight of all the things he’d once tried to escape from.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. Your fingers continued their slow rhythm, threading through his hair, smoothing it, grounding him, answering his unspoken question with each gentle stroke.

The storm outside had settled to a quiet murmur, the rain drumming softly against the window panes. He reached up, his hand curling around yours, guiding it down to his chest, holding it there like he needed you to feel his heartbeat, the steady proof of his presence, of the life he was still fighting for, day by day. The pulse thrummed beneath your fingers, warm and steady and real.

His eyes drifted closed under the weight of his quiet admission. You felt something ease inside you too, some small place that had held itself closed for too long. Maybe you didn’t need words all the time. 

“She wants to get her ears pierced.” you said, finally finishing the thought that had been lingering. You’d been wondering how to say it without sparking one of his reactions, but as soon as the words left your mouth, his head snapped toward you, his face already set with that familiar, stubborn frown.

“No.” he replied flatly, as if the answer were obvious and non-negotiable.

You blinked, not sure whether to laugh or protest. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” you asked, voice edging with challenge, but you could tell by the set of his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed that he was digging his heels in. 

“My say is no.” he repeated, his voice low and unyielding, like that was all there was to it. You could tell he was ready to defend his stance, even if he hadn’t thought it through entirely.

Your hand stilled in his hair, and you saw his mouth twitch in offence as he noticed the sudden absence of your touch. “Why’d you stop?” he muttered, almost wounded.

“Maybe my say is yes,” you shot back, leaning into him slightly, challenging him with a small smirk. 

“Well, I don’t want her to.” he answered, sitting up properly now, his full attention at play. His eyes were serious, like he’d decided to double down rather than let this slide.

“You sound like my father.” you retorted, the words slipping out before you’d fully realised what you were saying. The expression on his face faltered for a moment, and he looked almost chastened, but then his defences rose again.

“Oh, come on, don’t say that.” He rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh, though you could tell he didn’t want to come across as unreasonable.

You relaxed back into the couch, giving him a softer look. “She saw mine this morning, you know? She was looking at my nose and asked what it was, and she said she wants pretty earrings in her ears, like some of the girls in her class.” You could still picture Poppy’s face as she’d gazed up at you with wide eyes, all that wonder and excitement. It had surprised you, the way she’d connected that small detail to something she wanted to experience herself.

“I thought you took that out?” he asked, his voice softening as he leaned closer to you, his hand finding its way back to your knee, thumb rubbing circles into the bone. “I always loved your septum ring.”

“I did take it out, but it didn’t close up. This morning, I just thought I’d try, and it went in easily. I’ve been wearing it up-”

“You should wear it again.” he interrupted, his tone softer, and you caught a hint of that wistfulness he never let show. “The silver ring. The thin one. That was my favourite.” 

You shook your head, trying to deflect his sentiment even as you felt yourself soften. “I don’t care what your favourite was.”

“Oh, really?” he said, smiling with that hint of mischief, the edge of his mouth quivering as he tilted his head to look at you, challenging you in his own quiet way. He shifted, closing the space between you, and his gaze held you, pulling you in like it always did, no matter how many times you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let him win. 

“Okay.” he murmured, as if conceding, but his smile stayed. And as you slid back into the couch, he moved easily, resting his head in your lap again, his body finding its way back to that comfortable position as if he’d never left. His hand came to rest over your knee, anchoring himself there, his eyes glinting with amusement as they drifted back to your nose. 

“I can see it now.” he teased, his voice low and playful as his hand drifted upward, his fingers reaching closer to your nose.

You leaned back, feigning exasperation, though you couldn’t quite hide your smile. “Don’t stick your fingers up my nose, Alex.” you warned, but the laughter was already threatening to break through.

He chuckled, eyes glimmering with that irrepressible mischief. “Oh, come on.” he said, brushing your hand away with a playful insistence. “I think I’ve stuck myself up enough places inside you for this to not be a problem, babe.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but he was faster, his fingers brushing against your nose, nudging the ring down so it was visible. The small, silver balls glinted beneath your nose, a sudden reminder of a version of you he hadn’t seen in a while.

“There it is.” he whispered, his eyes soft as he took you in, his thumb brushing lightly over the silver ring as if rediscovering something precious. Then a glint of mischief flashed across his face, and he grinned. “Hehe, two little balls hanging…looks familiar.”

You rolled your eyes, amused, exasperated. “Oh my god, Alex. You are so mature.” But you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, warmth spreading through you as you tried – and failed – to keep a straight face.

He reached up, brushing his thumb over the bridge of your nose. You felt yourself melt slightly as he tilted his head, studying you with those eyes that somehow managed to see past everything.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost shy in a way that felt rare, “you look more like you, with this. Like the you I fell in love with.” His eyes traced your face, lingering over every familiar line and curve. You could feel his hand warm on your leg. “I mean, not that you aren’t you now, but…I don’t know, you look like you’re a little more…alive.”

You felt a flush creeping into your cheeks, not entirely sure what to say. But the honesty in his face held you there, kept you from pulling away as his fingers brushed over the small silver ring again. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. His eyes closed for a moment, savouring the simple contact, and when they opened again, there was a softness there, a vulnerability that he kept hidden from the world but shared with you in quiet moments like these.

“Maybe,” you said softly, fingers still resting against his cheek, “Poppy just wants to feel a little more like herself too. Maybe that’s what this is really about.” You watched him take in your words, saw the faint flicker of realisation cross his face as he thought it over.

He leaned his head back, his eyes gazing up at you with a quiet acceptance, like he was finally willing to meet you halfway. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining, holding you there with him, not pushing or pulling, just resting.

“Maybe…” he murmured, unsteady, as if he was still letting it sink in. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin. “I just don’t want her to be in pain.” he mumbled, his voice softer now, almost as if he were talking to himself rather than you. His eyes flicked to your nose, and then away again. There was something distant in him, reluctant and protective, like he was working through the idea in real-time.

He finally looked back up at you. “Does it hurt?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice, as if he were asking for the first time.

“A little.” you admitted, feeling the gentle throb where the ring rested, a reminder of the time it took to heal, of all the small aches that came with wanting something and sticking with it. “But I think she can take it. She’s a big girl now.”

He nodded slowly, but his lips pressed into a thin line, reluctant to fully agree. “Mhm…” he murmured.

You tilted your head, raising a brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…nothing.” He tried to brush it off, but you caught the way his gaze drifted, a small crease forming between his brows. He looked like he was holding back, wrestling with some unspoken worry.

You waited, giving him space, until he finally let out a soft sigh, his shoulders sinking as he leaned back against the couch. “I know she’s growing up. And I know you think I’m being...old-fashioned, or whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just– she’s so small. So…I don’t know…I don’t want her to be hurt. Or regret it later.”

A slight smile tugged at your lips, and you brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “You realise that’s why they make the small, safe starter studs, right? It’s not like she’s going to get a septum piercing or go full rock and roll in kindergarten. It’s just earrings, Alex.”

He gave you a sheepish, lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. It’s just…she saw your ring, and suddenly I could see her all grown up, making her own choices, and it just hit me. Feels like I just blinked, and now she’s already asking for things I don’t know how to give her.”

You took his hand, feeling his fingers relax under yours as you squeezed gently. “She’s going to be okay, you know. She’s smart. And stubborn – she’s got that from you." 

“Hey.” he scoffed, pretending to be offended, but his smirk betrayed him. “I’m not stubborn. I just have strong…principles.”

“Right. Principles.” you echoed with a grin, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I think maybe the real problem here is you’re just not ready for her to need things from someone else besides us. She’s growing up, Alex. And it’s going to hurt a little – for all of us. But she’s brave, and we’ve done a good job with her.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing his face. “I guess…I guess I don’t want to mess it up, you know? She’s…she’s so full of life, and I don’t want her to lose that because of something I say or do.” He looked at you, his eyes soft and uncertain. “I want her to feel like she can be herself. Even if I don't get it, or even if it's something I never would’ve done.”

You nodded, brushing his hair back, letting him feel that you were there. “Then let her be herself. Earrings or no earrings, she’ll still look at you like her hero. The way she always does.”

He smiled at that, a little shy, a little boyish. “You think so?”

“I know so.” you replied, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, watching his face soften as you did. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, you just sat there.

After a beat, he let out a chuckle, low and soft. “Fine. She can get the damn earrings.” he muttered, a reluctant smile creeping onto his face. “But I’m holding her hand the entire time. And I’m not leaving her side, even if it takes all day.”

“Deal.” you replied, your own smile mirroring his. “And afterward, we’ll let her pick out whatever sparkly, obnoxious earrings she wants. Even if they clash with her clothes for a month.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Perfect. And I’ll make sure to tell her how much of a trendsetter she is.” His tone softened, and he took your hand again, holding it tightly. “Thanks for…everything. And for reminding me. It’s easy to forget sometimes, but…I trust you, you know?"

You gave him a gentle smile, squeezing his hand. “Good. Because no matter how big she gets, we’re in this together. For every scraped knee and every new little piercing.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. And there, with his breath mingling with yours, he murmured, “Our little girl. She’s gonna be amazing, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, certainty settling back over you both. “She already is.”

a/n: pretty boring I guess...but I like it! got the idea from these requests x & x. also I feel like I was channeling @futuristicanoe in this. idk. their fic has been on my mind a lot these days and it seeped into this.

[otakubimbo]

BAD COMMUNICATION SKILLS

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Profanity, Angst, Anal (f!receiving), Aggressive Sex, Verbal Fighting, Miscommunication DID NOT PROOFREAD

summary: You broke up with your boyfriend Gojo Satoru out of what he thought was no where. He hasn’t heard from you since you took all of your stuff out of his house while he was at work. But now here you were, soaking wet at his house in the middle of the night. Let’s just say, he wasn’t that happy to see your face.

Day 3: Hate Sex

A/n: I’m actually really enjoying making these so I hope y’all are liking them too <3

masterlist

You didn’t even know how you got to his door. Your feet just led you there as if they knew the way. So, here you were knocking on your ex’s door in the middle of the night. Well 1:00 am to be more specific. It was pathetic in a sort of way, especially since you were the one that broke up with him and also because you got caught in the rain. Your freshly done silk press now ruined.

“I know that fucker is awake. Answer the damn door.” You go to bang on the door again when it’s yanked open. Now you’re just standing there like a dumb ass with your fist raised. Gojo Satoru wasn’t wearing his blindfold, shades sitting on the point of his nose. When his face met yours, immediately a scowl fell upon his beautiful lips.

“What the fuck do you —“He paused taking in your appearance. You knew you looked like a drowned rat in running attire. You were even wearing the running shoes he got you for your birthday last year. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just come in.”

He steps out of your way and you carefully make your way past him to get inside. Immediately you remove your water logged shoes, standing with your arms around yourself now in the coolness of his apartment. He left you standing there in the cold until he came back throwing a towel in your direction. You could it, attempting to dry yourself off but you were soaked to the bone.

“I just need to charge my phone and I’ll call an Uber and be out your way.” You mumble attempting to gently squeeze some of the moisture out of your ruined hair.

“What have I told you about going on runs without charging your phone?! Especially in the middle of the night are you crazy?! I’ve told you how dangerous that is.” He scolds you and you simply roll your eyes.

He always thought he knew better.

“I would have been fine if I didn’t get caught in the rain” You spit back avoiding his eye contact trying your best not to freeze. Why the fuck was it so cold in here?

“You think that makes it better?! It’s the middle of the fucking night Y/N! Your house is 10 miles from here! Do you not understand how dangerous that is?! How many times have I told you?!”

You finally met his angry gaze, your face reflecting the same “I can take care of myself! If I didn’t get caught in the rain I wouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

Your arms are crosse in front of you, rage was starting to warm the cold out of your bones. You could tell your response pissed him off even more by the glare he had and the way he was aggressively moving toward you.

“Cut the bullshit. It started raining 40 minutes ago which gave you plenty of time to go home. And don’t even try to tell me you were going to run 20 miles in the rain on a fucking Tuesday.”

Yall are face to face at this point as he stands over your. His face is red with annoyance, he always looked so damn hot when he was mad. Yall ended up having a lot of angry sex that way. Not today though because for once you didn’t have any bite back. He was right and you had no idea why you were here. Your face still hardened as you sniffle, your nose trying to run. At that, his face softens and he sighs taking a step back. He didn’t have it in him to be mad at you when you looked like that. His broken heart breaking even more with every sniffle.

“Go take a shower before you get sick”

“I’ll be—“ You start but he cuts you off before you could finish your rebuttal.

“No you won’t, don’t argue with me and just go.”

He always thought he could tell you what to do.

You clamp your mouth shut. There was no point in arguing because you in fact did always get sick this way, then he used to have to take care of you for a week everyday reminding you of how maybe you should listen to him sometimes because he was right. With no further arguing, you made your way to the bathroom. You turn the shower on and strip while you wait for the shower to heat you. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked terrible. Only part of your hair had reverted, the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep made you look ill, overall you looked dreadful.

“What the fuck are you doing here” You question your reflection. You hadn’t seen Satoru’s face since the break-up and it wasn’t a good breakup either. That was mainly your fault though, you just up and left no explanation. Yeah, you had your own place but most of all your things were at his place. You packed your shit, said nothing to him and blocked him. Even though, he only tried coming to your place once. Just once. And that confirmed to yourself that you made the right decision by breaking up with him the way you did. That didn’t stop you from missing the man you hated so much.

You sigh at your reflection before snorting, “You’re so stupid”

The shower was finally hot enough to slide yourself in. Once the hot water hit your skin, you immediately melted into the feeling. The tension from the argument melting away with the heat along with the cold in your bones. You decided to just go ahead and wet the rest of your hair, there was no saving it. Putting your head under the steaming water made you feel even better. You almost forgot that you couldn’t get too comfortable in there, so you quickly finished up your shower using his conditioner to make sure your hair didn’t get knocked putting it into two plats.

Once you step out the shower you see clothes laid out for you on the sink. He must have slipped in when your head was under the water. It was your favorite shirt of his and some shorts you guess you forgot, almost bringing a smile to your face.

You slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you. He wasn’t in his room, thankfully, so you made your way back to the living room. His back was to you as he lounged on the couch. Oh how many times you’ve come out to this sight. The smell of ginger filled your nostrils and you noticed his favorite mug filled with a hot ginger tea, a bottle of whiskey next to it.

He doesn’t turn to you, but acknowledges your presence “That’s for you if you want it. I know you like it when you’re cold.”

It was your favorite., you gladly picked it up placing more than a shot into the warm cup.

He was only thoughtful when he felt like it.

“Thanks.” You say barley above a whisper but you knew he heard you because the room was completely silent besides your soft sniffles.

“No problem. I tried to charge your phone but there’s water in the port so it’s drying out.” He finally turns to you. His eyes always held secrets. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as you nod at his comment going to sit on the opposite side of the couch. You tuck your legs into you to bring yourself some comfort as you sip on your hot tea.

Gojo didn’t know what to say to you. You broke his heart and blocked him. He had no clue why you were here. He had no clue why you even left him. All the sudden he came home, expecting to see the love his life except he came home to an empty cold apartment. You and all your things just up and gone. He tried going to your house but when you didn’t answer knowing that you were home, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was now just alone, again.

You could never read him.

The silence between you hung in the air. It seemed like time was stopped and moving too fast at the same time. Gojo was the one to finally break the silence.

“Why?”

A simple question.

Your head slowly raised to meet his gaze. His eyes were sad, the blue sparkling in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Why what?” You knew what he meant but you didn’t want to just come out and say it. He should fucking know why.

“Don’t piss me off more than you already have.” He scoffs at you, unamused.

“You literally have no reason to be mad” now that really pissed him off. He pushed himself off the couch and stormed over to you, looking you into between his arms on either side of you. You try and sink further into the couch, casually taking a huge swig out of your cup as if you weren’t fazed by his behavior. His eyes looked wild, you hadn’t even noticed he didn’t have his shades on until right then.

“I have no reason to be mad? Me? You took all of your shit out the house and fucking blocked me, Y/N. And now here you are showing up at my door in the middle of the fucking night to play fucking mind games with me”

“I told you –“ You begin getting cut off yet again by him. He usually let you speak your mind but not tonight it seemed.

“I don’t give a fuck what you have to say. I fucking hate you, you broke my heart and then just show up like its not a fucking deal. Why the fuck are you here?! To torture me?!” His grip is tighter on the couch.

Your voice is small, “ I don’t know why I’m here. I just went on a run and before I knew it I was here.”

You avoid his gaze as he leans back aggressively running his fingers through his hair. He laughs almost defeatedly.

“Maybe I’m the cursed one instead of the honored one.” He says as he paces in front of you.

“Satoru” You say softly, reaching out to him, your hand moving on its own. He looks at your hand, snorting.

“No. You don’t get to do that.” He finally stopped pacing, standing in front of you. “Just tell me why you left” His voice and eyes pleaded at you. As much as you can see you broke his heart, yours was shattered as well too.

“I heard you”

“What” He says confused as to what the fuck you were talking about.

“With your parents. I heard you on the phone with your parents.” You say as you finally look up to meet his gaze. He still looks confused at you as if there’s no way he knows what’s going on. “Stop acting like youre confused.”

“Because I am confused!”

“You literally agreed when your dad said that you should break up with me! That you were too good for me!” You yell standing up, getting in his face.

You remember it like it was yesterday. You had fell asleep on the couch as you were watching a movie, but were woken up when you heard him talking quietly on the phone in the kitchen. His dad was yelling at him about how he needed to break up with you and that you were no good for him. His response: okay. You had never heard him not argue back with his father but this time? The time that it came to y’all’s relationship he was silent. He had no fight in him for you and you were crushed, you didn’t even know how you didn’t burst into tears right then. So you did what you thought was best and just left the next morning.

“You didn’t even defend me. You just said okay and that was that.” Your voice was cracking, tears threatening to spill out at any second. He looked at you as if you were a fucking idiot.

“For someone so smart you are so fucking stupid. I hate how fucking hardheaded you are.”

Before you could ask what he was talking about his lips crash into yours. Your bodies came together like missing puzzle pieces. You missed him so fucking much. His mouth moved harshly against yours, pushing your further into the couch.

“You never listen to me” He rasps as his mouth moves to your jaw trailing kisses to your ear. His tongue licks around your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You’re panting at this point, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist trying to pull him closer. He bites on your ear making your back arch into him, moaning into his shoulder.

“Fuck ‘toru.” You moan as your hands get tangled into his hair. His mouth licks and sucks on your neck, pulling the most delicious moans out of you. You can feel him growing between your legs as he presses himself into your now wet shorts. Your wetness is seeping through even his own layers of clothes which gets a deep throaty groan out of him.

“At least your pussy missed me, you heartless slut.” He scoffs, grinding more into you grabbing you by your throat. “Broke my heart for no fucking reason because you didn’t want to communicate.”

His grip tightens on your neck and you squirm under him as you feel yourself getting even more spurred on. The hand not occupied around your throat sinks straight into your shorts. His long thick fingers forcing their way into soaked cunt.

“Yeah your pussy really missed me. She wouldn’t have to be so needy for me now if you would of just fucking talked to me. I hate how you always just shut down.” He scolds as he’s aggressively finger fucking you, his thumb just as aggressively circling your clit. You could barely even register all that he was saying, his fingers were hitting the best parts within you. You moan his name over and over again. Your body was so close to reaching it’s climax, it was making you dizzy. Right before you were tipped over the edge, he yanked his fingers out. Before you could even complain about the emptiness in you, he shoves his slick coated fingers in your mouth. You suck on them greedily, loving the taste of yourself on his fingers. He looks darkly down at you as he yanks your shorts off, causing a gasp from you which makes him shove his fingers further down your throat gagging you.

“You know what I hate the most about you?” He asks pulling his dick free from his pants. It was as pretty as you remember, it wasn’t super thick but it was long and had the prettiest curve to it. “That you would think that of me. That you would think I didn’t love you.” He strokes his dick looking down at you, your eyes hooded and filled with love.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to fuck you like I hate you.” He says as he yanks you up, throwing you over the side of the couch so that your back is arched perfectly for him. Satoru doesn’t even give you time to think as he thrusts himself completely inside of you causing you to groan deeply from the sudden and harsh intrusion. He pounded into your relentlessly, hands placed firmly on your hips holding you in place. You didn’t know if you could take much more. He was so deep, ramming into your cervix with every thrust and every so often making your ass which you knew would make it hard for you to sit for days after. Your pussy was squeezing him tightly with every smack.

“Oh, you’re enjoying this huh? You didn’t have to break my fucking heart to get me to fuck you like this.” He growls smugly behind you as one of his hands moves from your hips to your front rubbing your combined juices on his fingers. With his, now wet, thumb he sticks it straight into your asshole that was puckering at him. You throw your head back at the intrusion now feeling overwhelmingly full. He matches the thrust of his fingers with the thrusts of his dick.

“Yes! Satoru! Yes fuck yes. Oh you’re going to make me cum baby.” You babble unable to control any feeling in your body anymore.

“Then come for me.”He commands, using his other hand to grab the back of your neck pulling you back. At that point, your mind was empty except for the feeling of him inside of you. After a few more thrusts, you cum, and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. Your eyes roll in the back of your head and you think they may get stuck like that with the way feel right now. The noises you made were so lewd and the death grip you pussy had on Satorus dick as he was trying to fuck you through your high had him cuming deeply in you.

Once both of your bodies stopped shaking, he let you both fall over the side of the couch, his back pressed against you panting hard. He catches his breath and gently pulls out of you, gaining a whimper from you. With a sigh, he picks you up and brings y’all to the bedroom, laying you down gently pulling the covers over your spent body. He slides in on the other side, turning your face to him.

“Are you ready to listen?”He asks gently, cupping your face. Your eyelids were heavy but you nod.

“The reason I didn’t argue with my dad was because I had planned on never talking to him again after we got off the phone, on top of the fact I thought you were sleeping.” Maybe he was more thoughtful than you gave him credit for, but you were still confused. Him and his father argued all of the time, but he wouldn’t ever just cut off contact with him.

“What happened?” You ask softly, now seeing how big you overreacted.

Satoru sighs before placing a kiss on your forehead, deciding on if he wanted to tell you or not. You reach out, stroking his cheek lovingly allowing him to open up on his own time, showing you were listening.

“I told him I wanted to marry you.” He says finally. Your movements immediately still and your eyes widen.

“Huh” You question, blinking several times to make sure you were awake and registering everything properly.

“I let him know I was thinking about proposing to you and when he gave me that reaction, I decided that there was no longer a point in talking to him. I couldn’t have anyone in my life who didn’t see how special you were.”

You felt like you couldn’t breath and you just said the first thing that came to your mind, “I’m an idiot”

You’re trying to hold back tears and he pulls you into an embrace.

“So it seems. But you’re my idiot. Yeah?” He asks rubbing circles into your back. You nod into his chest.

“Next time you think about pulling a disappearing act. Can you just talk to me first?” He asks and you nod again getting a chuckle out of him.

“Still hate you for breaking my heart but I can think of a few ways you can repay me” He says as he pulls you back, capturing your mouth once more. The rest of the night, you did your best to repay him for your lack of communication skills.

The next morning, you woke up wrapped up in your loving man, his head in your chest and your legs thrown over him. Unfortunately for you, you felt like shit. You, indeed, did get sick. Another incident you weren’t going to hear the end of until you got better.

[tkdb-hell]

25 with one of the hotarubi boys 💜 reader gets lost in hotarubi or maybe they had a fight, but the other comes to find them and takes them to shelter. I LOVE UR WORK ⭐️

This is so Haku-coded I had to jump the queue for this one. I might've gotten a little carried away... oops

#25 - Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The storm came suddenly, as storms always did at Hotarubi, dark clouds rolling in to drench the grounds in relentless rain. The once-peaceful garden was now a chaotic sea of raindrops, wind, and thunder, but none of it mattered to Haku—not when you were out there, somewhere, alone.

He cursed under his breath, pulling his jacket tighter around himself as he sprinted through the downpour. You’d stormed out of his dorm after an argument, and at first, he thought you’d come back once you cooled down. But when the storm hit and you didn’t return, worry gnawed at his chest until he couldn’t stay put any longer.

“Where are you?” he muttered, scanning the grounds through the sheets of rain. Just when he was about to give up and head toward the lake, he spotted a figure huddled beneath the large wisteria tree near the edge of the garden.

Relief flooded through him as he rushed over, his footsteps splashing through puddles. “Hey!” he called, crouching down beside you. You were soaked to the bone, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you shivered. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“I didn’t—” Your voice was faint, trembling from the cold. “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

Haku didn’t wait for you to finish. Without a word, he slipped his arms under your knees and behind your back, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You started to protest, but he shot you a look. “Don’t. You’re freezing, and I’m not about to let you sit out here and get sick.”

You didn’t argue further, too cold and tired to fight him. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he carried you back through the storm.

Once inside his dorm, Haku kicked the door shut behind him, setting you gently down on his bed. The warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the storm outside, but you still felt chilled to the bone.

He grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and handed it to you. “Here. Dry off.”

You took it with a quiet “thanks,” beginning to pat your hair dry as he worked on his own soaked clothes. The tension from your earlier argument still lingered in the air, but before you could bring it up again, Haku reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion, wringing the water out with a casual ease.

Your words caught in your throat. All thoughts of arguing vanished as you watched the raindrops cling to his bare skin, tracing lines down his toned chest and arms. His green hair clung to his face, droplets falling from the tips, and his mismatched eyes flicked toward you, a hint of concern still lingering in his gaze.

“You okay?” he asked, voice soft now, stripped of the frustration from earlier.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “Yeah… just tired of arguing.”

Before he could say anything else, you reached out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward you. He didn’t resist, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as you guided him onto the bed, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, warm, and filled with everything you couldn’t put into words.

Haku melted into the kiss almost immediately, his hands bracing on either side of you as he leaned over, deepening it. The heat of his skin against yours banished any lingering chill, and you sighed into his mouth, threading your fingers through his damp hair.

You didn't give him time to question it. Pulling him closer, you captured his lips in a kiss-wet, slick, and searing. The taste of rain lingered on his mouth, cool and fresh, mingling with the heat of the kiss in a way that made your head spin.

His lips were soft but firm, moving against yours with a growing urgency as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment. You couldn't deny it, not when your body still tingled from the sensation.

For a moment, the world outside faded away, the storm now nothing more than a distant hum. All that mattered was Haku—his touch, his warmth, and the way he kissed you like he’d been waiting for that exact moment.

When you finally pulled back for air, his eyes searched yours, a flicker of that familiar playfulness returning. “So… does this mean I win the argument?”

You laughed softly, resting your forehead against his. “You’re absolutely insufferable.”

He smiled and kissed you again, this time slower, gentler, as if savoring the moment. “Next time, don’t run off in a storm, okay? You scared me.”

“I won’t,” you promised, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. “Just… stay here with me.”

"Always," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you tightly, his warmth seeping into your skin, soothing the chill from the storm.

He paused, glancing down at the both of you, still drenched from head to toe. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Although, if we're going to be soaking wet, I can think of a better place for it than my bed..."

"Haku!" You swatted his arm playfully, though you couldn't stop the laugh bubbling up from your chest.

"What?" he said, entirely unrepentant, his grin widening. "We can either stay here, cold and wet..." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur, "...or we can be warm and steamy in the—"

You cut him off before he could finish, grabbing his face and pulling him into another kiss. This one was firmer, more insistent, as if to shut him up and prove your point all at once. Haku made a low sound of surprise before melting into it, his hands sliding up your back as he kissed you back with equal enthusiasm.

The playful tension between you turned into something deeper. His lips moved against yours, wet and slick from the rain but no less intoxicating, each kiss sending warmth flooding through you. His smirk faded into the kiss, replaced by something softer, something real, as if he wanted nothing more than to stay right here with you, soaked clothes and all.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, and Haku's eyes sparkled with mischief despite the flush in his cheeks. "Okay, you win," he murmured, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. "This is definitely better."

"Much better," you agreed, your fingers still tangled in his wet hair. "Now shut up and keep kissing me."

"With pleasure," he said, laughing softly before leaning in once more, his lips finding yours again in the perfect mix of warmth, wetness, and passion, the storm outside forgotten entirely.

[vodika-vibes]

Hi, Vod'ika. I recently read your works and I loved them all, especially Hunter's. Can you write something with him with the trope "there's only one bed"? If I may give you a kick-start, maybe he and reader (F! Reader, please.) They are left without a pick up because the Marauder is not in a condition to face the storm on the planet they are on. So they need a place to spend the night. Xx

Sharing is Caring

Summary: When a terrible storm separates you and Hunter from the rest of the Batch, you have no choice but to try and make the best of it. Unfortunately, the only inn with a vacancy only has one room available. Luckily, you don’t mind sharing with your Sergeant.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 2660

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @clonethirstingisreal

A/N: Hihi! I'm glad that you liked my stories! Especially my Hunter stories, since I'm still not 100% about my characterization of him! But I made a new divider specifically for this story! ☺️

You’re drenched.

Soaked to the bone.

Your hair is plastered to your head, and the civvies that you’re wearing are clinging, uncomfortably, to your body, and you know that you’re shivering because Hunter keeps shooting you concerned looks, even as he tries to raise the Marauder on his comm.

How, exactly, he’s not shivering when he’s just as drenched as you are, is a mystery for the ages.

Maybe the Kaminoans made it so the clones just don’t get cold. The lucky assholes.

You wrap your arms around yourself as a particularly violent shiver zips through you. “H-Hunter-” Your teeth are chattering too. He raises a single finger as he lifts his comm to his ear, apparently finally managing to get ahold of Tech.

Honestly, you’re surprised it’s this cold.

This is a tropical planet according to the very detailed lecture that Tech bored you to tears with before the ship landed. The planet never, ever gets cold enough for people to need things like heaters…or long pants.

So, since this was supposed to be an undercover mission, you dressed according to what Tech told you, a cute sundress and sandals. Hell, even Hunter is dressed in short sleeves, though he, at least, has long pants and boots to protect his feet from the frigid rain.

You’re not so lucky.

You step up a little higher, trying to keep your feet out of the frigid puddles of water, and then anxiously cast your gaze over to Hunter. He has a severe look on his face, and your heart sinks.

You know that look.

That’s Hunters, ‘the marauder can’t come and get us for some reason, so we’re on our own’ look.

You see it a lot.

“It’s fine, Tech. We’ll make it work.” You tune into Hunter’s conversation now that he’s talking and not just listening, “Just get the ship somewhere safe.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he disconnects the call, and slides the comm into his pocket, before he turns his gaze towards you. His dark eyes scan you, and he looks deeply concerned.

“We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” You ask.

“Just for a couple of days,” Hunter replies, “Tech says that the storm is going to get a lot worse really quickly.”

“Figures.” You say with a sigh.

Hunter scans you one more time, “We need to get you out of the cold. You look like you’re freezing.”

“I am freezing,” You counter, “Do you have a personal heater in your body or something?” 

Hunter laughs softly, “Not quite.” He steps into the massive puddle so that he’s closer to you, “Hands on my shoulders, mesh’la.”

You immediately do as he asks, and Hunter gently grips your hips before he swiftly lifts you over the puddle and sets you on the other side, “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hunter glances around, “Tech said that there’s an inn nearby that has a vacancy. He already commed them and made a reservation for us.”

“Tech’s the best,” You say empathically.

Hunter grins at you, “He has his moments. Come on, let’s get out of this rain.” He doesn’t move until you fall into step next to him, and he presses his hand against the small of your back to guide you.

You don’t mind. He’s warm and you’re freezing, and, to be completely honest, you don’t have any qualms about having such a handsome man pressed close to your side.

Two years ago, when the war first began, the organization that you are a part of reached out to the Jedi and offered the services of their doctors and battlefield medics.

And while the Jedi, and the Clones, weren’t sure about it, at first, it quickly became apparent that they needed the help. After all, Clone medics were very good, but they didn’t have the kind of specialized training that people from Doctors Without Borders had. 

Or the equipment, for that matter.

Two years ago, you were a recent graduate from medical school, and had just finished a 6 month tour on a planet ravaged by a plague. And you went right from there, to Kamino.

Admittedly, there was something of a rough start at first. The Kaminoans resented the fact that there was an outside doctor treating them pet projects, and you resented the fact that the Kaminoans called these men their Pet Project.

But you never had a problem with the men in CF99 themselves. Well, not outside of you putting your foot down and telling them that they will keep their room clean and clean smelling or you would do it for them.

And really, you haven’t had a single issue since then.

Well, okay. That’s not true.

There is one, rather massive, issue. And that issue is your massive crush on Hunter.

Something that he doesn’t help with by being so protective and so kind and so…perfect.

The asshole.

“Here it is,” Hunter’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he comes to a stop in front of a small inn. It looks very lived in, which, in your experience, means that it probably started out as a bed and breakfast. He glances at you, and gently nudges you towards the door, “Come on.”

Hunter opens the door for you, and you, gratefully, step into the warmth of the building. You step to the side to let Hunter in, and then try to shake some of the dripping water off your fingers.

“Ah, got caught in the storm, did you?” An older woman says from behind the desk, she has a kind smile on her face, “You must be Hunter. Your brother called to make a reservation.”

Hunter shook some of the water off of his hands as well, before he walked over to the desk, “Yes ma’am, that’s me.”

“Splendid,” The older woman bustles around for a moment, before she slides a pair of key cards across the counter, “Here you go, two keys for the room. There’s a kitchenette in the room, as well as extra blankets and towels.”

“Thank you,” You say from where you moved to stand next to Hunter and accept the key that he gave you.

The woman smiles at you, “Now, the pair of you are staying in another building. You have to go out the front door, across the street and up the hill. Your room is in building 13, on the third floor.” She beams at you, “Now, you two better hurry before the hail starts.”

Hunter’s head snaps up, “Hail?”

“Oh, yes. There’s always hail.” 

Hunter’s gaze darts to you again, the look of concern returning, and you smile at him reassuringly, “Come on, Hunter. We’d better hurry then.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” He nods at the older woman and then motions for you to lead the way back to the door.

It takes less than ten minutes to get from the hotel lobby to the hotel room, and Hunter unlocks and opens the door just in time, as it starts to hail as soon as you’re both safely in the room.

“Lucky timing,” You say as you peer out the front door at the hail bouncing on the ground. 

Behind you, Hunter releases a heavy sigh. “I’m going to strangle Tech,” you hear him mumble.

“Eh? Why? What’s wrong?” You shut the door and peek around Hunter to peer into the room properly.

At first, you don’t see the problem. The room looks clean and it doesn’t have any strong scents that might overwhelm Hunter. And then you see what the problem is.

Really, it’s kind of obvious, now that you’re looking at it.

There’s only one bed.

A decent sized bed, much bigger than the bunks you have to use on the Marauder, but still, there’s only one.

“Oh.” You pause thoughtfully, “Well, easy solution. I can sleep on the floor and-”

“Absolutely not.” Hunter interrupts. “I am not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

You sigh, “Hunter, you can’t sleep on the floor.”

“I’ve slept in more uncomfortable places.” He points out, “You’re the doctor, you deserve the bed.”

“That’s ridiculous. You need-” You’re cut off when a violent shiver wracks your body, and all of the fight drains out of Hunter.

“You need to take a shower to warm up.” He says, “What clothes do you have with you?”

“Just some pajamas and a single change of clothes,” You admit, “We weren’t supposed to be here long. They should still be dry though.”

“Good. Go ahead and shower, and we can work out sleeping arrangements later.”

You make a face at him, but know that he’s right. So you slide off your soaked sandals, and then cross the room to slide into the fresher. You’re very relieved to see that there’s bodywash, shampoo, and conditioner already in the fresher.

Not to mention, the room is warm. 

You allow the fresher door to slide shut, and turn on the water. 

Hunter glances at the fresher door as the water turns on, and he slowly releases a heavy breath. He really is going to strangle Tech.

As if he didn’t have enough on his plate, now he had to try and come up with a reasonable explanation for why he can’t share a bed with his pretty baar’ur.

Obviously the truth won’t work.

I’m completely in love with you and I don’t trust myself to share a bed with you. 

Yeah. The only thing that will accomplish is scaring her away, and then his brothers will kill him. Including Echo, especially Echo. She’s helping him with his physical therapy after all.

He pulls his bandana off, and pushes his hand through his soaked hair as he tries to think.

Hunter’s gaze is drawn to the Fresher when he hears soft singing, and a small smile lifts his lips. She only sings when she’s happy, and sometimes it feels like her singing is for his ears only, since she never sings where his brothers can hear her.

He sinks into a chair and closes his eyes, allowing her soft voice to soothe him. 

He really did love her more than anything.

Hunter opens his eyes as the water turns off, and he casts his gaze towards the ceiling. He still hasn’t come up with a reason that they shouldn’t share.

The problem being, of course, the fact that he wants to share the bed with her. He wants to be able to bury his face in her hair and wrap his arms tightly around her, and hold her close. He also wants to press a million little kisses across her skin, to learn if she’s as soft as she looks–

The door slides open, and Hunter’s gaze drifts from the ceiling to the love of his life.

She’s clad in a tank top and some shorts, and Hunter has the feeling that she made them herself, because the shorts have the skull of CF99 etched on the hem.

“I feel so much better now,” She says, as she drapes the towel over her head, and then she grins at him, “You can use the shower now, if you want.”

“Yeah, I will.” His gaze lingers on her shorts, “Those are new.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” She lightly taps the embroidered skull, “You like them? I was bored while you guys were on a mission, and I made this.”

“Why haven’t you worn them before now?” Hunter asks.

“And let Crosshair harass me about my spindly chicken legs?” She demands, “No thank you.”

Hunter laughs, “He only teases you because he likes you.”

“I know, I know.” She crosses the room and drops on the edge of the bed, “Still, he could be nicer about it. What if I was sensitive about my legs?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

Hunter grins, “Then it doesn’t matter, does it?”

She makes a face, though she looks amused, so Hunter isn’t overly worried, “I had an idea,”

“Oh?”

“I think we should share the bed.” She says.

Kriff.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Hunter replies slowly.

Something very similar to anxiety crosses her face, a look he hasn’t seen since the early days of her partnership with his squad, “I don’t take up that much space-”

“I don’t want to share a bed.”

The anxiety on her face slides into genuine hurt, and she averts her gaze, “Oh.”

Double kriff.

“Not for the reason you’re probably thinking, mesh’la,” Hunter offers, his voice gentle.

She rubs her arm, and doesn’t look at him, “If you really don’t want to share, then I have to insist that you take the bed. If something happens-”

“I don’t want to share with you because I don’t want to scare you away.”

“...what?” She lifts her head to look at him, the hurt turning into absolutely bafflement.

Hunter sighs, “You have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?”

Her confusion only increases.

“You’re so good, and kind. And…stars, I love you so much.” He folds his arms over his chest, to keep himself from doing something foolish, like standing up and touching her. “Too much, maybe. My brothers would never forgive me if I scared you away.”

She stares at him, “Hunter,” She pauses for a moment, to collect her thoughts, “For someone who is so observant, you sure are blind sometimes.”

“What?”

She looks exasperated, “Even Tech noticed my crush on you. Tech. Do you have any idea how awful that conversation was?”

Hunter’s jaw drops, “Wait! Is that why Tech has been asking me about what I would want in a romantic partner?”

“Oh Force,” She presses her hand over her eyes, her face burning with embarrassment, “Has he?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry. I swore him to secrecy…figures that he would try and find a loophole.” And then she drops her hand, “But, since you know that I feel the same way, maybe you won’t mind sharing a bed with me now?” She sounds hopeful and so vulnerable at the same time.

And really, how could Hunter do anything other than agree?

With the conversation over, and needing time to think about what she said, Hunter retreats to the fresher to get warm.

And when he finishes in the shower and leaves the fresher, he sees her laying on her side under the blanket, her gaze locked on the holo across the room. “It looks like the storm is going to last several days,” She says without turning her gaze away from the holo, and Hunter’s glad for it.

The last thing he wants is for her to see how anxious he is about sharing a bed with her.

Slowly, carefully, he slides under the blanket, “What kind of weather can we expect?” Hunter asks, pleased that he managed to keep his voice so even, as he leans against his pillows and flickers his gaze from her, over to the holo, and then back.

“Wind, rain, hail,” She shakes her head, “I hope Tech managed to get the ship to safety. The wind gusts they’re predicting are insane.”

“I’m sure he did. You know Tech,” 

She glances at Hunter, and shifts just enough to rest her head on his shoulder, “Is this okay?”

He exhales slowly, and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “It’s more than okay.”

“That’s good.” She replies, and then she’s quiet for a moment, “Hey, Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He releases a surprised breath, and then a soft laugh slips from him, “Cyare, you don’t have to ask.”

“You just weren't sure about this, so-” She’s cut off when Hunter leans in and presses his lips against hers in a very chaste kiss, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face.

“Cyare,” Hunter murmurs, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She smiles at him brightly, and he decides right then and there that he would do anything to keep that smile on her face.

[jjkamochoso]

Feel the Rain on Your Skin

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Feitan shares his umbrella—and sweet sentiments—with you!

Warnings: mentions of death; a bit macabre but more along gothic vibes

You heard the steady drip of rainfall pound against the roof, your stomach churning with excitement. Gloomy days held a special place in your heart and you couldn’t pass up the perfect opportunity to submit yourself to the storm brewing outdoors. You hastily shoved on your boots, foregoing a jacket so you didn’t waste time as you raced outside. The Phantom Troupe had taken up residence in an old abandoned house for the time being and it was by far your favorite place you’ve ever stayed at; having your own room was a luxury you dreaded giving up when you eventually had to move. Your favorite part of the house, though, wasn’t even inside. It was the sprawling backyard, with its towering, gnarled trees, luscious grass, and quiet cemetery holding the tombstones of the previous owners and their family members, that made this place so special. The wet atmosphere assaulted all of your senses in an instant and you couldn’t have been happier. You spun around, throwing your head back in delight as heavy droplets made contact with your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. You made your way to the cemetery after you got your energy out, wanting to enjoy the rest of the rain in a calmer fashion. It was peaceful out there, no doubt about it. There was no one for miles and you relished in the silence as you sank down, the cool tombstone slick underneath you. You admired the gray clouds overhead, behemoths in the sky, until you couldn’t stand the rain hitting your eyes anymore. You quickly closed them and sighed, content in your own serenity. It felt pleasant having the rain soak your hair, face, and clothes; it made you feel alive (ironic as you were sitting among the dead). More rain kept pelting down on you.

Until all of a sudden, it didn’t.

You frowned, your eyes still shut. Did it stop raining? Your eyelids fluttered open and you were met with the sight of your fellow Troupe member Feitan—

And his arm holding his umbrella over you.

“You going to get sick out here,” he said from behind his cowl. “You want to join them?”

He gestured to the graves scattered around you, trembling lightly. It was then you registered just how freezing you were, starting to shiver.

“No. But do you want to join me for a little bit longer?”

You gave him a hopeful smile, your teeth chattering. Gray eyes, the same color as the clouds above, rolled at you but he took a seat next to you anyway, still holding up the umbrella. You knew he wasn’t big on physical touch but the warmth you were getting from his closeness was so addicting that you couldn’t help yourself, leaning into him more than necessary. You waited to hear a scoff or any sign of disgust, but it never came. In fact, you could’ve sworn that he nuzzled into your side further. You sat in silence for a long time, neither of you wanting to interrupt the moment you were sharing, even if you should’ve gone inside many minutes ago. The pitter patter of the rain landing on the umbrella over you was almost trance-like, lulling you into a state of deep relaxation that you had never experienced before.

“It… nice here.”

Feitan, surprisingly, broke the quiet between you first.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “Machi did a great job finding us this place. I wanna stay here for the rest of my life.”

“I mean out here,” he said, looking off into the distance, “with you. It…”

He stopped, trying to find the right word. He spoke out a few phrases in his native tongue, shocking for you a second time in such a short span since he rarely graced you with the chance at hearing it. He always sounded so confident in his first language and you wished that someday you could learn a few words and make him feel less alone.

“It calm,” he finally said, before turning to look at you. “It beautiful.”

Any sense of chill within your bones was immediately extinguished by the burning love flowing through your body for the raven haired man next to you.

You gazed upon him, adoration and sincerity oozing from your irises.

“It truly is,” you whispered, your soft voice competing against the earthly elements raging around you but Feitan heard you loud and clear. He was grateful for the cowl that was hiding the bright red blush on his pale cheeks, opting to focus his attention on the grass as he picked at the long blades with his unoccupied hand. After another several minutes, you stretched out your legs and began standing up. Feitan did the same, moving quick enough to where you didn’t have a millisecond without the umbrella hovering over you.

✨IF YOU’RE OVER LIKE 5’5/1.67 METERS✨:

“I can hold the umbrella so you don’t have to be on your tiptoes,” you told Feitan as you stood, not wanting him to be uncomfortable.

“Tch. Can I trust you no shoot it?” he teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. “We already have dinner. No need for dead birds.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I know what button to not push. I pay attention.”

He relented, holding out the handle for you to grasp.

✨IF YOU’RE UNDER 5’5/1.67 METERS✨:

Feitan still holds the umbrella for you😚

✨BACK TO THE STORY FOR EVERYONE✨:

Before heading back inside, you looked down at the grave you were sitting on. The inscription mentioned the name of a woman who lived there over a hundred years ago, making you gasp slightly.

“That’s amazing that she gets to stay here for good,” you murmured. Feitan glanced down at his own temporary seat, reading the name of a man who also lived there at the same time as the woman. You two had just noticed that the graves were right next to each other, stones practically touching. The pair were married!

“They died on the same day,” you observed.

“Broken hearts,” he said plainly.

“Oh? You’re a romantic, I take it?”

He didn’t say anything but rolled his eyes in exasperation, making you giggle.

“I think it’s sweet to have someone follow you into death like that. That’s true love in my eyes.”

You fell into another comfortable silence, the only sound being the rustling of branches as the wind blew through the leaves.

“Feitan?” you finally said.

He didn’t reply but turned to you, giving his full attention once more and the intensity of his stare made your heart flutter again.

“Thanks. For being out here with me.”

He blinked at you slowly before finally replying. “Of course. I go where you go. Always. Forever.”

“Even to the grave?” you asked sanguinely.

He nodded solemnly. “And in whatever lies beyond death. We together.”

[beautyinsage]

i'm here

because even the strongest need comfort sometimes

gojo x reader.

cw: pure fluff, comfort, soft gojo, reader and gojo are in some kind of... situationship, bestie just needs a hug

he’s at your door, and you don’t even know what to say. he turned off his infinity, so he’s practically soaked to the bone from the pouring rain. 

“gojo—“ you start, wanting to break the silence, but he flinches at your voice. you let out a shaky exhale and step forward, reaching a hand up, slowly, like approaching a skittish animal, to press your palm to his cheek. he unconsciously chases the warmth, his hair parting to reveal his eyes, sadder than you’ve ever seen them. your heart lurches for him. “oh, satoru.”

“i-i know, this isn’t the kind of relationship we have,” he starts, his voice shaky and solemn, “but i just… needed to see you.”

“why?” you whisper, afraid to say more as to disrupt the unprecedented vulnerability that he was showing you.

he cracks a gentle smile. “i heard you give the best hugs.” 

you soften immediately, pulling him closer and he willingly comes, wrapping his hands around your waist tightly as you tangle one hand into his hair and the other presses to the back of his neck. 

the man was freezing to say the least, and you pressed closer, attempting to spread some warmth. he, in return, buries his face into your neck, his breaths hot against your skin, as he inhaled your scent deeply. 

you stay like that for a moment. him breathing you in, you allowing him to, before you speak hesitantly. “baby, maybe we should go inside. take a shower, yeah?”

he seems hesitant to let you go, but he loosens his grip and pulls away to look you in the eye, arms still loosely wound around your waist. he seems almost meek like this—to the point it almost feels like you’re not looking at the strongest. right now, it kinda just feels like you’re looking at a man—a man who has the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. 

you smile gently at him, moving a hand from his neck to his cheek again. he turns his head, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. the action makes you warm a bit, and you couldn’t help but melt at the impossibly soft interaction. 

“satoru—“

“thank you, y/n,” he breathes, interrupting you. “you are—you’re just— you’re everything.”

and although you didn’t quite understand what he meant, you pull him close once more—letting the rain pitter-patter against your window, letting his clothes slowly soak your own and into the carpet underneath your feet, letting yourselves simply enjoy each other’s embrace. 

maybe, in that moment, that’s all you both needed. 

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

o yea. i saw u reblogged rock & midnight. how r they in ur rewrite ? :3

Glad you asked!

For simple fun things, Midnight is huge because I like the giant badgers. Rock is also gay.

I'll put Midnight in the second post. You've hit Lore Jackpot.

For the more complex things... Let's start with Rock. A bit of Rock's dialog from PO3 intrigued me and I never quite let it go.

I know it was probably meant as a "ooughh immortality is awful" line but... What if it isn't?

What if he actually was cursed? Why else would a being that feels like this... Feel like this? This isn't an emotionless immortal creature rejecting Jayfeather out of coldness, this is a repressed, traumatized creature rejecting Jayfeather because he is seeing a newborn baby and a rotten corpse at the same time. He doesn't have access to Starclan, he cannot stay friends with Jayfeather after he inevitably dies. It'll only hurt. Also, there are heavy implications if not outright statements that Rock used to be a normal cat! He's even mentioned in Night Whispers to be scarred. (Look I know that the 2007 book that mentions 3 tribes and mentions that Rock's kin used to live around the lake isn't canon anymore but... Who cares. Its better worldbuilding than what we've got now.)

So... What could cause immortality like this?

I began to brainstorm, and decided it was a real tragedy. Something awful happened, something a certain young tom should have learned a lesson from... And didn't.

It was a gloomy day around the lakeside when a young couple, a gray and white tom named Rock who to swim and his new mate, a pure brown tom named Bug who loved to try herbs on wounds, to heal them. The two had been racing each other down the lakeside, laughing and playing, rushing through the autumn leaves and exploding out of the piles the had accumulated.

Bug, the more adventurous of the 2, had found a small opening. The scent of running water had made his curiosity burn. Rock nervously followed him, reminding him that they needed to get home at some point soon. Rock's mother, Falcon, had recently had 3 kits, and he needed to go and watch over them for her and his father, so they could hunt together.

Bug urged him on. "Come on Rocky!" He mewed, his eyes widening when it echoed. "This place is too cool to not explore a LITTLE! What if we can't find it again? Besides, we can bring back something for them all when we leave."

Rock couldn't argue with that! He leapt down after Bug, their tails twined together as they looked around. Rock's thick, fluffy fur was keeping him warm, though Bug, with his short fur, needed to huddle against his mate to keep warmer in the cold tunnels.

The tunnels did not seem to run deep, but soon enough Rock and Bug found themselves navigating using only their whiskers and tentative pawsteps. The tunnel took a sharp turn suddenly, enough that Rock nearly bumped his nose into the wall!

Bug laughed, and the wonderful, soft sound echoed. But... Soon after, another sound would very faintly echo through the tunnels.

Thunder.

"Oh, jeez, I didn't know it would rain. We should probably get back now."

How easy that sounded... The two toms rushed through the tunnels, their hearts beginning to pound as water filled the narrow rocky halls, Rock himself slipped over his own paws, landing into the water, the freezing water soaking into his thick fur immediately and chilling him to the bone.

"Rocky!" Bug had cried, but the water was picking up speed, dragging Rock down, deeper into the tunnel. Above, a hole in the ground had worn away, pouring more rainwater into the tunnels and providing a light.

The last thing Bug saw of Rock was his eyes glazed with terror as he slid away into the darkness, crying out for Bug...

Bug had kept going, managing to find another tunnel that lead straight outside into... Bright sunlight? Bug was soaked to bone, he had heard the crashing thunder just seconds ago...

Falcon stood outside the tunnel entrance, a deep glare on her face. "Where have you been?! It's been 2 days! And where is Rock?!"

"B... Bug? ... Where's Rock...?"

A few days later, Bug gathered himself, and would fling himself into the tunnels once more, the floor of them was as dry and bare as bleached bone. Not a single sign of the rain that had washed his lover away...

Bug searched, deeper and deeper, down the tunnel he could have sworn did not stretch that long.... Into a coldness that he swears he could feel in his very soul.

Down, at the very bottom chamber, lit by a shimmering white mossy rock, is Rock's body. His fur isn't soft anymore, it's cold and wet. His eyes, unblinking, stare into nothing. Bug begins to weep as the mossy rock that isn't a mossy rock sits up, striding over.

"I am sorry for your loss." A large, fluffy, pure white molly speaks. Her glossy fur shimmers, and her eyes, black as night, give nothing away. "It was his time."

"What do you mean 'it was his time'? He had a family! He has little siblings! His mother and father are broken hearted!"

"Everything has a time. It cannot be rewritten. Your time will come. Everything that has happened, is happening, will happen." She spoke without tone, her hollow voice echoing through the chamber. “I am time's keeper. The god of time. I have seen all that there is and has been and was. All is as it should be, as it ever was, as it always will be. Move forward, like time has, and you will be happy once more.”

Bug unsheathes his claws, he stares down at Rock, his sweet Rock, who had never harmed another cat in his life, had only ever been kind... Why him? Why not some other awful cat to drown this way in this awful place? "No." Is all he says, as he leaps at the ethereal molly, slashing her throat. Sparkling blue blood covers Bug, the molly doesn't even so much as flinch.

"You will regret this, little one. Time needs a keeper. It will never be your time. You cannot change what has been written."

The god of Time dies, and Bug finds himself lifted into the air. All at once he sees what has been, could be, should be, will be, and is. His fur begins to streak gray from the stress and strain, his eyes turning pure white. He rushes to Rock, crying out softly for him to wake up, that he has power over time, there must be a way to fix this... To turn back time....

But the molly had told him already. He is the god of Time, not its warden.

He repeats his beloved's name to not lose his mind. He cannot leave the tunnels. Time stretches on and he realizes what the old god had meant. He ages, seasons pass. Heat and ice and rain and young cats and sticks and crying parents and terrible storms and so, so much emptiness.

He repeats Rock's name to remember it. His lover's bones long since crumbled to dust and to nothing. Over and over, and over.

Without seeing him, a tiny gray tabby picks up the stick he guards, the very last one. He senses the cat in front of him, and says hello without fear. The kitten, Jaykitpawfeather states his current name, not yet aware of how it will change. He asks for the name of the god of Time.

In an old, creaking voice, he stammers out the only name he can remember.

[lilypadlys]

Domestic December Day 29 - Power Outage

I started this one thinking, aww it's gonna be so cute. Ghoul cuddles as they keep each other warm. And then my brain was like, but what if we give Rain frostbite. Wouldn't that be fun? I’m sorry Rainy. (Don't worry he ends up being fine!)

Notes: Prompt list by comp-lady. See prompt list here

Ghoul popsicles below the cut or on AO3

Pop. There’s an audible fizzle as the power goes out. Dew stops mid guitar solo and glares at the overhead light of his room as if that would make it spring back to life. When to no avail it stays stubbornly dim, he sighs and puts his guitar away. No sense in practicing if he can’t see, much less the amp not working.

This was just perfect timing. A snowstorm was on the way and the power was out. The abbey doesn’t have the greatest insulation or central heating at the best of times. Dew can already feel the cold air seeping through gaps in stone to rob what little heat had been maintained.

Luckily, nearly every room meant for residence possesses a fireplace. Dew heads out into the hall knowing that soon he and the other fire ghouls will be tapped to set fires and make sure the abbey’s inhabitants don't freeze to death. He meets Aether in the hallway.

“Hey Dew. The power’s out and the fire places need-”

“Yeah, I’m on it.” Dew interrupts, not unkindly and more to speed things along. “Go find Alpha, Ifrit and Sunny and get them to help too.”

“Thanks Firefly.”

They part, the quintessence ghoul in search of the other fire ghouls as Dew makes his rounds to his packmate’s rooms to get their fireplaces running. Sunny has already gotten a magical fire set in Cumulus’ room and all the girls are curled up there. Dew gets fires going in his own room as well as Aether and Mountain’s. Along the way he finds Swiss in Aether’s room and Phantom and Mountain in the earth ghoul’s nest. He pokes his head in Rain’s room to drag the no doubt freezing water ghoul to his own bed but there’s no sign of him.

He doubles back to Mountain’s room.

“Have you guys seen Rain?”

Phantom shakes his head but Mountain’s eyes get huge.

“Shit.” He’s already leaping out of bed.

“Wha-no. He didn’t…” Dew doesn’t wait for an answer, already heading to the door. He mutters a trail of curses under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Phantom asks, still ensconced in blankets.

“That idiot decided to go swimming in the middle of a snowstorm and now the power is out.” Dew grumbles, tapping his foot impatiently as Mountain scrambles to put his jacket on and grab a warm blanket.

“Stay here.” Mountain points at Phantom. “We’ll be right back.”

Dew forgoes his jacket, just amplifying his body temperature instead, as he and the earth ghoul race outside and to the lake. The snow is already beginning to fall, collecting in rapidly growing drifts. Dew curses again and picks up the pace. About halfway to the dock they see a blurry figure, obscured by the whirling snow. When they get closer they both breath a sigh of relief when they recognize Rain’s twisted seaglass horns.

Rain stumbles forward hazily, hunched over as he walks into the wind. His arms wrapped tightly around himself as if to block out the cold. He’s shivering like a leaf and soaked to the bone, only clad in his sopping tee and swim shorts. His trail of footprints leading towards the lake are already being filled with snow. He makes no indication that he sees his rescuers.

Dew runs to him immediately, shouting. “You fucking idiot! What the Hell do you think you’re doing going for a swim in this weather?!” He yells, already wrapping the water ghoul in a warm embrace.

Rain looks up wearily, eyes having trouble focusing. “I-I’m s-sorry.” He manages despite his chattering teeth. He looks about ready to cry.

“We need to get him dried off so he doesn’t get frostbite.” Mountain says, already tugging down Rain’s shorts. When Rain weakly protests Mountain adds apologetically. “I’m sorry but these are soaked. They’re just going to make you feel colder.” Rain nods, letting Mountain pull them the rest of the way off, too weak to help much. Mountain helps him ditch his shirt as well.

Now freed of his wet clothing, Dew can see just how bad off Rain is. His face, hands, and feet are an angry red, bitten by the fierce cold and his shoulders shake with every shiver. His eyelids droop in a cold induced fatigue and he sways on his feet.

“Inside. Now!” Dew commands.

Mountain wraps the thick blanket around Rain to block some of the wind. Then he scoops up the trembling water ghoul and trudges his way back up the path. Dew brings up the rear, stepping in Mountain’s tracks rather than fighting to forge his own way through the quickly accumulating snow. The return trip to the abbey takes twice as long, now fighting the wind rather than moving with it.

Dew fights not to spew curses the whole way back. He wants to rage at the weather. Rain’s poor decision making skills. Himself. What if he hadn't noticed Rain was missing? What if Mountain hadn’t known where to look? What if…?

They finally make it back though. Dew runs ahead the last few yards to haul the door open and usher Mountain inside. Both ghouls sprint back to the pack’s den where Aether, with Phantom and Sunny in tow, is ready waiting with a lukewarm bath prepared in his tub. Mountain eases Rain into the tub murmuring apologies as the water hits Rain’s cold numb skin; the temperature difference jarring. Both Mountain and Aether begin to massage Rain’s hands and feet to help warm them and increase blood flow.

“What the fuck were you thinking?! You stupid fucking idiot! You could have gotten hurt. You could’ve d-” Dew chokes unable to vocalize the thought. He looks away.

Dew and Sunny gradually warm the water temperature. Slowly but surely the angry red becomes a soft pink as Rain warms up. He’s thankfully stopped shivering, no longer in danger of frostbite. Aether, Phantom, and Sunny retreat while Rain soaks, letting the other’s know he’s okay. Mountain excuses himself too to go make tea for Rain.

Now alone with the water ghoul, Dew breaks down.

“I’m so sorry Dew.” Rain looks down, eyes damp. “I didn’t realize it was going to snow and…Dew?”

Tracks of water leak down the fire ghoul’s face that can’t be attributed to the snow melting in his hair. Dew swallows a sniffle, face still downturned. “Don’t scare me like that.” He says much quieter. He can’t hide the way his voice wavers.

“I’m sorry.” Rain reaches for Dew’s hand and squeezes it. Dew squeezes back and doesn’t let go.

“You’re feeling better right?” Dew looks back, his grumpy facade slipping back into place.

“Uh huh, I'm fine now.” Rain assures.

“Never do that again.” Dew says it like a threat.

“I promise.” Rain squeaks. Rain leans over to nuzzle and plant a kiss to Dew’s forehead. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Dew ruffles Rain’s hair with his free hand.

After a little while, Mountain returns. After making sure Rain has warmed up enough, Mountain scoops him up again and bundles him in a towel before bringing him to the common room, setting him directly in front of the fireplace.

Dew stokes the fire to life before curling up next to Rain, pulling him into his arms. He reaches for Rain’s hand again and they interlace their fingers. It’s Dew that squeezes first, three times in rapid succession. Rain returns the gesture. A silent, I love you.

Mountain gives Rain a mug of tea before retrieving the others. They all curl around Dew and Rain, doting over both of them. Mountain rubs Rain’s head and Aether presses himself to Dew’s back. Phantom, Swiss, and the ghoulettes wrap themselves around them, cocooning them in warmth. They all just lay in front of the fire for a while, enjoying each other’s soothing presence. They’re all thankful that their packmate is safe and sound and right where he belongs; in their arms.

[givemea-dam-break]

Like A Movie

“ Hiya! I absolutely adore your lockwood x reader fics. They are so good! I was wondering if you would write some Lockwood x reader fluff where the reader loves the rain and so when they have a quiet moment on day Lockwood takes her outside to dance in the rain and then they share their first kiss. That would be amazing, thank you! ”

a/n: @nessa-stark your wish is my command!! hope I've done it justice <3

warnings: none gn reader

Outside, rain lashes down onto the pavements in thick sheets, drowning out the sound of the kettle boiling in the kitchen, or George's strange shuffling around in his room - probably some sort of yoga, though you dare not go and check. The sky is a deep grey, and it's hard to see anything out of the living room window with all of the raindrops on the window. Instead of people watching, you opt to follow the falling droplets, racing down the clear glass to reach the windowsill.

There's something about rainy days that calms you. Maybe it's the sound, or the comfort of sitting inside, dry and warm, as the weather takes its toll on the world beyond.

The living room door creaks, and you glance over at it. Lockwood walks in, holding two steaming mugs, and grins at you. At the sight, a shiver runs down your spine, and you smile, pulling yourself away from the window to gratefully take one of the mugs from him.

"I remembered the honey this time," he says as he sits on his armchair. "Didn't want a repeat of last time."

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the sofa, propping your feet up beside you. "Don't be dramatic. I still drank it."

"You looked like you wanted to cry," he says.

"Did not. You, Anthony Lockwood, love to exaggerate."

He only laughs, turning his attention to the magazine you set out on the table for him this morning after picking it up on your shopping trip. It's funny how enthralled he becomes by them, totally oblivious to the world around him. You could set the sofa on fire, and he'd still be busy reading about how Rotwell has released a new prototype, or Penelope Fittes hosting another party.

You sit content just admiring him for a minute. His hair falls onto his forehead, still slightly damp from when he'd nipped out to Satchel's earlier to stock up on more salt bombs and such, and his cheeks are rosy from the heat in the living room. In one hand, he holds the handle of his mug, perched on the arm of his chair, while the other holds the magazine. He reads it as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Rather than his usual shirt and tie, he's dressed more casually today, wearing his rarely-seen hoodie and T-shirt combo. It suits him.

"Let's go outside."

Surprisingly, Lockwood looks up from his magazine. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's go outside."

"It's chucking it down," he says, frowning. "We'd get soaked immediately."

Leaning over the sofa's arm, you pluck your shoes off the ground, haphazardly thrown there after your shopping trip this morning, and tug them on. You scamper into the hall, tossing Lockwood's into the lounge, looking at him expectantly.

For a moment, he just sits and stares at you, one blink away from being bug-eyed, but he eventually relents.

"If I get a cold, I expect you to look after me."

You grin. "Colds aren't caused by rain, actually. Now, come on!"

The kitchen is cold and, when you throw open the back door, you're struck with a blast of freezing air that chills you to the bone. You've left your jacket but, regardless, you step out into the rain.

Immediately, you become drenched. The rain is heavier than it looked through the window, but you don't mind. Each drop feels like heaven.

Lockwood stands in the doorway, clutching his jacket tightly around his body. "You're insane, you know that, right?"

You spin in the rain, laughing. "Absolutely. It's why you hired me. You needed someone to make you feel less crazy."

Your jumper clings to your skin, and your hair is plastered against your face and neck. Water fills your shoes. The long, uncut grass grazes your legs, soaking your jeans even further.

"Get out here," you say with a laugh, running over to Lockwood.

Before he can protest, you grab his warm hands and tug him out of the door. His head ducks slightly when the rain hits him, but, despite it all, he's grinning widely.

Lifting his arm above you, you twirl beneath it, hair whipping out behind you as you do so. The rain drips over your face, lashes against your back, and your skin is covered in goosebumps, but you barely feel the cold. Lockwood's laugh is enough to keep you warm.

As cheesy as it is, he keeps moving to let you twirl, or shuffles along with you in some kind of dance to only the sound of rain and distant cars speeding through puddles. It feels like a movie, a rom-com musical where the love interests dance in the rain, but if people were to look upon this, they'd see nothing more than two teenagers who have lost their minds. Two teenagers that definitely aren't love interests.

Right?

If your story were a movie, it would be the one with unrequited love. The one where the girl pines after the guy, no matter how hard she tries not to. A movie full of secret glances and little gifts, longing looks and eventual heartbreak. Well, that's how you've always seen it, and you've been given little reason to believe otherwise.

Lockwood can charm anything that moves with nothing but a smile and some pretty words. It's in his nature. He charmed you long ago, caught you in a net of emotions that you can never escape. No matter how many magazines you buy him, or how long you sit, admiring him, hoping he'll notice, he doesn't seem to realise. Not that it's his fault. He's the most oblivious guy you've ever met.

You don't mind too much. Having him as your friend is better than not having him at all, and you're content. Every day is spent with him in some regard, and that's more than you could ever ask for. You get to hear his little sarcastic remarks, the sound of his laugh when someone is being an idiot, see his enchanting smile. Nothing in this world would be tempting enough for you to give the privilege of seeing and hearing those things up.

Once more, Lockwood lifts his arm for you to spin, but you stumble, catching your foot on a rock hidden in the long lengths of the grass. Before you can even come close to falling, his arms close around you, holding you close to his chest.

He's impossibly warm, skin practically steaming in the chill of the back garden, and it's a warmth you can already feel yourself melting into.

Your eyes meet, and you're captivated. His eyes are dark, but they shimmer in the bleak outside with emotions - happiness, and something else, something hidden just so. You can feel his breath on your cheek, faces closer than they should be, but neither of you makes a move.

"Falling for me now, huh?" he says, but his voice is quieter than you would've expected.

Swallowing, you say, "That was the cheesiest thing you've ever said. Never do it again."

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips a beat. "If you say so."

Even still, you stand, held close to his body. His apparent reluctance to move has butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"I -" The words get caught in your throat. You're too busy studying his face - the way his eyes flicker over your face, how his lips quirk up in a softer rendition of his infamous grin, how his hair, plastered to his forehead, catches his eyelashes.

"Can I kiss you?"

The words catch you completely off guard and, for a moment, you need to confirm that you're not actually dreaming. But, no, the rain feels real, the chill feels real, his hands, carefully holding one of your arms and your back, are real.

It takes a minute, but you nod, unable to speak.

He smiles, moving a hand from your arm up to your cheek, holding you gently. Raindrops cover his eyelashes, glittering like little crystals.

Ever so slowly, he leans forward, and you meet him halfway, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe your life is a rom-com. Dancing and then kissing in the rain, something you never thought you'd do, nevertheless with the guy you've been pining after for months. Sparks fly when his lips touch yours, and fireworks explode in your mind as your brain and heart throw a celebration. His lips taste like slightly too bitter tea, and they're chapped from the cold, but it's something you find you quite like. His hoodie, soaked beneath your hands, is soft, and you clutch it tightly, filled to the brim with emotions you can barely contain.

It feels like years before you part, breathing softly and gazing at each other, looking like idiots in the heavy rain. Lockwood is grinning like a madman, and you're probably no better, although you're likely bright red.

"What was that for?" you ask, and your voice comes out as little more than a whisper.

"Something I've wanted to do for a while," he murmurs, glancing down at your lips. "Is that allowed?"

"Kiss me again, and I'll let you know."