#It's why they can't come to an agreement even when they want to!
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— kArMa'S a B*TcH!
requested by @chaotic-toasters (thank you for being a therapist when needed!)
hope you enjoy the chaos, hehe.
requests are closed currently, however, feel free to drop to talk at all!
summary: reader needs therapy after witnessing that music video.
pairings: steph catley x reader, beth mead x reader, lia walti x reader, leah williamson x reader, kim little x reader
warnings: nothing but pure chaos and trauma over a certain music video...
Having lived in Switzerland, it wasn't often you got to see your auntie, so its' safe to say today you was thrilled about being able to hang out with her and more so, you'd be going to training with her and seeing the rest of the girls.
You'd been having so much fun hanging out with all of the girls, even joining in on winding some of the girls up.
"Hey, Y/N! C'mere a second, kid!" Your going about minding your own business, snacking on a sandwich in the canteen when your called out by Beth and Steph.
Poking your head up with the sandwich half hanging out your mouth, you tilt your head, "I didn't do it!" Your quick to protest.
You wouldn't call yourself a troublemaker per-say, but well, eh who're you kidding? You love being the centre of chaos.
Your auntie Lia wouldn't agree so much, it was one of the reason why you're stuck over in England for the time being right now.
Beth chuckles in amusement, "That's not why we're asking you to come over here," She pauses as she waves her hand slightly, "Come sit with us!" She encourages.
Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from your seat and make your way over to the two older girls, "What's goin' on?"
"We want to show you somethin', kid. You like watching music videos, don't you?" Steph wonders, holding her phone out in her hand but you can't exactly see what it is thats' on it.
"Er yeah, I do... Why?" You tilt your head in confusion but non the less plonk yourself down on Beths' knee instead of sitting on an actual seat.
What's the point of that when its' far less comfy, right?
"Perfect," Beth smirks and shares a look with Steph, "You'll like this then."
"Whos' music video is it?" You wonder, curiously.
"JoJo Siwa," Steph chimes in. "Your auntie told us that you like her music, kid."
"I do like her music," You nod in agreement.
Without further ado, Steph moves the phone to balance up against her water bottle before she clicks play on said music video.
You weren't completely aware of the fact that your reaction was being filmed either.
You really didn't know what to expect, given that all of all JoJos' videos you have seen in the past were normal, compared to this...
You were thrown off by the pitch black darkness, mysterious vibe of the music.
"Should I... Should I be scared about this?" You look between the two older girls with a slightly worried expression, "Wait, should I?"
Neither Beth nor Steph said much but laugh slightly, awaiting your reaction as the beat of the music started to play.
"Oooo, there's water," You take in the scene of the start of the music video, bopping your head along to the music casually, "Mysterious vibes." You state, wiggling your fingers like they sparkling.
All too soon that your watching the video and your mouth drops open, shaping the perfect 'O' shape as you stare in horror at the music video you're literally being forced to watch.
"What the-- She's making out with another girl!" You exclaim in shock, "My eyes... My innocent eyes!"
Even if you wanted to escape from watching it, you couldn't do that, considering that Beth had her arms tightly wrapped around your waist so you couldn't up and leave.
"Ah! My eyes!" You repeat as you shriek in horror, immediately trying to shield your face behind your hands. "This isn't the JoJo Siwa that I remember!" You exclaim, keeping your hands over your face while you shake your head profusely.
"Just watch it, kid. It's not that bad," Steph chuckles, amusedly.
"NOT THAT BAD?" You exclaim in horror, whipping your head to look at the Aussie, "THIS IS... THIS IS HORRIFYING!" You whine, trying to wiggle out of the blondes' arms.
"It's certainly a lot different," Beth jokes.
You continue to shake your head profusely, "Turn it off! Turn it off! I can't even... I need bleach-- I don't want to watch anymore!"
Unfortunately both of the older girls' continue to laugh at your own expense, finding the situation completely hilarious.
Of course they'd watched the video previously and as soon as they did, they knew you were the perfect one for them to film a reaction to watching this music video, considering your usual love for JoJo's music.
"This... This isn't even music-- I don't like it!" You begin to try and claw at your eyes, definitely not keen on the music video in front of you.
You manage to somehow worm your way off the blonde's knee, wriggling all the way to the floor as you do no more than lie there rolling around as you make a lot of noise shrieking like a banshee while clawing at your face, trying to scrub the memory of the video.
"Turn it... Turn it off, please!" You plead with them both, hearing the tune in the background as you continue to roll around on the floor like it would solve all of your problems.
Beth snorts in amusement at your overdramatic performance on the ground, "I don't see what's so bad about it, Y/N. It's just a music video." She comments.
"Just a music video? Bethany, that is pure vulgar-- That is... That's not even music!" Your absolutely horrified about the video; Why would anyone create something like this and actually put it out there?
The commotion you began to make was soon spotted as you lay on the floor by the rest of the girls.
"What's going on with your niece, Wally?" Leahs' the first to spot your not so normal behaviour.
"Is she okay?" Kim frowns, concerned.
Lia looks over to you and furrows her eyebrows, "I... I don't know," She watches you continue to roll around on the floor as she realises she should find out what's wrong with you. "Y/N, what's going on?" She wonders, concerned.
"My eyes, auntie Lia-- My eyes!" You exclaim, still trying to claw at them to try and block out the horror that you just witnessed.
"What?" Lias' left even more confused, trying to make sense of what is actually going on.
"Help me, auntie! Help me!" You continue to roll around dramatically on the floor, "I can't... I can't even-- I don't like it!"
"What? Y/N, sweetheart, I can't understand what you're talking about here," Lia admits, confused with your unusual behaviour compared to usual.
"Let me try," Leah suggests, getting up from her seat and joining the small group before she crouches down to your own level, "Hey buddy, what's goin' on?" She wonders, concerned.
"Pain! So much pain!" You exclaim dramatically while you still attempt to claw at your eyes.
Leah and Lia share a confused look, "Wha-- What're you talkin' about buddy, what's happened? Are you hurt?" She questions.
"Yes, yes I am hurt!" You somewhat whine in response, "I need... I need help!" You state, attempting to wriggle round on the floor, but thats' difficult with Leahs' hand resting on you to stop doing exactly that.
"Your hurt?" Lia immediately kneels down beside you and tries to inspect which part of your body is injured, "Where hurts, Y/N? Tell me so I can get help!" She panicks slightly, trying to figure out what it is that's exactly wrong.
"You... You can't help, the pains' in my eyes-- I need to bleach them!" You murmer, trying to erase the memory of the video but having no luck.
"What?" Lia's even more confused now before she glances at the older girls' giggling to themselves like school girls, "What is going on?" She asks.
"We thought we'd show Y/N the new music video that JoJo Siwa released," Beth snickers, finding it hilarious to watch your initial reaction to it.
Lia furrows her eyebrows even more confused than before, not understand whats' so bad about that.
"Are you girls crazy? Why... Why an earth would you show a little girl that type of video?" Kims' voice barks aloud, overhearing the conversation.
"Hey! I'm not a little girl. I'm almost 13, you know!" Your quick to protest, causing from the mid meltdown. "I'm... I'm traumatised, auntie Lia!" You exclaim.
"Show me the video? It can't be that bad," Lia gestures for Steph to press play on the video, so that herself and Leah can understand it and within the first minute or so in, her expression completely changes, "What is wrong with you two? Why an earth would you traumatise my niece with that sort of video!" She barks at them.
"Exactly my point," Kim waves her hand off, like she was talking sense the whole time.
"That is... That is one crazy video," Leah murmers as her eyes widen in disbelief, knowing its' no wonder the way that you suddenly reacted when you saw it.
"See, auntie Lia? Its' pure trauma... I need therapy!" You whine dramatically, shaking your head profusely, "Months and months of therapy!"
"Well, shes' not wrong there," Leah snorts, trying to stifle her laughter when Lia looks at her unimpressed, "But eh, yeah, seriously, girls... Why would you show her that?" She tries to act like the responsible adult that she is.
Safe to say that Steph and Beth found the whole situation most amusing to watch you freak out mentally, of course taking the opporunity to taunt you with that god-awful song.
At any given time of the day...
Curse that stupid song that exsists.
Like the moment that you're peacefully minding your own business, sat on the sidelines of the pitch messing around with your Nintendo Switch, having a blast on Mario Kart when Steph decides to walk over to you, casually picking up her water bottle to take a few swigs before she starts to hum that familiar tune.
"No," You whine, going to cover your ears.
You swear that Steph even smirks at you at one point, before she continues to go about humming the god-awful song.
"No, no, no stop-- I need bleach... I need to bleach my ears out!" You whine dramatically, trying to block it all out, "STOP ITTTTT!"
"kArMa'S a BiTcH--"
"Auntie Lia! Auntie Lia! Help me, Stephs' singing that song!" Of course you tattle-tale straight away, being the shit-stirring little menance that you are, "Auntieeeee Lia, make her stop singin'!" You continue to whine dramatically.
© scribblesofagoonerr
#woso x reader#lia walti x reader#leah williamson x reader#steph catley x reader#beth mead x reader#kim little x reader#arsenal wfc x reader#scribblesofagoonerr#woso one shot#woso fanfics#woso imagine#arsenal women x reader
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I’m almost 100% Wifey has had at least one heart attack having to deal with what comes out of Hero’s mouth (even if he’s not mentioned often) The kids a menace, 100% drops something fully out outta pocket at a family get together or a random quiet car ride and it SHOCKS the whole family 😭
Also before I forget - I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR WRITING just a bit of appreciation especially for the way you portray reader. I love fanfictions where the female reader is a hero or something but just like you said personally I wouldn’t mind staying home and not working, and you write it in such a respectful way towards women. Reader is a woman comfortable with her husband providing for her a chooses this life because it suits HER, supporting woman is supporting whatever path they pick, whether that’s a NASA scientist or a stay at home mom!
Anyway that’s my little ramble 😭
AWWW thanks honey! I'm glad you see it that way. Just a bit of a reminder that the only reason that wifey feels like she can stay home is because she trusts Izuku. Izuku is a man worth trusting to provide for her and THAT is what dictates her decision. But she could have been whatever. We love women.
Also YESSSSSS.
The things Hero says is CRAZY. He's definitely a mix of Riley from the Boondocks and Carl Gallagher from Shameless.
Hero
Your son, Hero was a one in a million type of boy. Although very active, he had a mouth to put even his father to shame. There was something about your middle child that never made sense to you. For starters, he never had a filter on his mouth and it scared the living daylights out of you.
"Mom, why are girls stupid?"
You paused at the question, turning to look up at your son through the rearview mirror as he sat at the back of your mommy van that your husband had bought you. All of you were coming back from a night out together and your husband was driving, allowing you to focus on Hero.
"Why do you say girls are stupid honey?" You asked.
"Stupid people are hypocrites and girls are hypocrites." He stated boldly, folding his arms over his chest.
Shoyo blinked confused, the seven year old tilting his head. "What's a hypocrite?"
Asahi adjusted his glasses as he kept his eyes on his game on his phone. "Hypocrite. Adjective. A person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings. Synonyms, a liar, or someone who is two faced." He stated the definition almost as if saying it straight out of the dictionary.
"Aka, Takahashi Suzume." Hero stated with a scowl on his face. You heard your husband snort at the name dropping in the car.
You gave him a look before turning back to look at your son. "Hero, why do you say she's a hypocrite?"
"Because she asked me to the winder formal and I said no. I told her no, but she kept asking me. I thought no means no, mom! When a girl pressures a guy and he says no, he's being unreasonable. But when a guy pressures a girl, noo, it's sexual assault." He rolled his eyes.
"Hero!"
"What happened to equal rights mom? I want my rights!" He demanded making Toshinori burst out laughing at the back where he sat next to Kane. "This is the problem with society today. If girls want to be treated the same, I shouldn't go to jail if I punch Takuhashi everytime she opens her fat mouth. Equal rights, equal fights!"
"HERO!"
You stood in the kitchen as Asahi sat at the island table, venting to you as you made lunch. You were cutting up sandwiches for the boys as your second oldest son sat with a hand keeping his head up. "I don't know mom, he says he likes me, but I really can't find it in myself to like him romantically."
You hummed as you nodded your head understandingly. Your husband stood up from his recliner and walked over to where you were standing, moving to grab a little triangle sandwich and stuff it into his mouth. "Asahi, you just have to come out straight to him and tell him the truth." You advised. Your husband nodded his head in agreement, chewing on the sandwich. Izuku reached over to grab another one but you slapped his hand away, motioning for him to wait, you handed him a glass of water instead making him frown.
"I thought Asahi already came out?" Hero asked as he walked into the kitchen from outside. "Or is he finally out of his phase?" He asked nonchalantly, making you turn your head to look at your eleven year old child shocked. Asahi's jaw dropped that his brother would just say that.
"Hero!" You chastised. You sighed as you shook your head. "Your brother is just... he's having trouble telling his friend that he doesn't like him back." You explained simply, knowing that Hero had gone through something similar as well.
Hero raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a banana out of the fruit bowl. "Is that it?" He asked surprised as he looked to his older brother. "That's what you've been worried about? Not liking your fellow Otaku friend?"
"I'M NOT AN OTAKU!"
"Yah, and Satomi doesn't have a fat ass, I guess we're both lying."
Your husband chocked on his water. You gasped. "HERO!"
Hero shrugged. "It's the truth, and at least I can say it now that her and Toshi have broken up." He turned to look to his brother again. He pat Asahi on the back. "In all serious, Asahi. Just tell him the truth. Grow some balls man," He smiled. "Maybe then you wouldn't find the need to date someone else that already has them." A loud laugh came out from Toshinori somewhere in the sitting room.
"MIDORIYA HERO!" You shouted at him, your face burning at his comments
"Sorry, mom, it was a joke." He put his hands up in surrender. He looked over at the banana he was holding before looking back at his brother. He handed it over to Asahi. "For you." Hero grabbed a peach before turning around and heading back outside.
You turned to look at your husband with a pointed look. "Izuku, you need to do something about him!" However as you turned to your husband, Izuku held a hand over his mouth to hide his own laughter. "Izuku! This is not funny!"
"No. No it's not funny, but he's hilarious."
In all seriousness, Hero loves his brothers and everything he says is joking... sort of. But he would die for what is right and he is a good boy. He just says something that would make you sprain your neck at least once.
-Glitch1d
#dilf midoriya#dilf izuku x reader#dilf izuku midoriya x reader#dilf izuku midoriya#dilf izuku#midoriya family shenanigans
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“My Stand In” Episode 7 opinion and commentary.
esinegerp asked:
Lovely Luta, I just got caught up on My Stand In … I do love some tortured tears from a toxic boy who is now learning a painful lesson. Please bless me with some commentary on the latest episode.
So here I am!
I would like to start by emphasizing that Ming is not a good person. Now, that doesn't imply a lack of affection towards him. I am merely highlighting the obvious to ensure that everyone is aware that I am not blind to his shortcomings. He exhibits sporadic instances of kindness; however, please note that this does not make him a considerate individual. He is not a nice person, but a person who can be kind.
This makes him an almost villainous love interest, which I appreciate. I genuinely appreciate that he is not our typical main lead. He is a selfish asshole, who does what he wants without regard to feelings. Unless he cares about you, which is rare. There are few who can get past his trust issues for him to care. Which is why he is in the conundrum that he is in. He doesn't trust people and likes even fewer. Ming’s instincts are telling him to trust Joe, but his typical distrust is getting in the way.
Let's start this episode off by discussing the agreement between Joe and Ming. Ming is required to buy Joe's mother a house and pay her medical expenses. Does that include a housekeeper/caretaker? Cause that is who Joe and his mother are greeted by when they arrive at the new home. Is that stipulated in the agreement? I have my doubts, yet here she is. Allow me to explain. It could be inferred that Joe is responsible for obtaining her. However, it is worth noting that he is not the same Joe who possessed some wealth. And he likely expended the majority of the funds he had earned on the initial hospital payment that he had to make prior to Ming's arrival.
Now to the next scene. That kindness and assholishness is being shown right off the bat because Ming immediately. The question, “Have you eaten?” is the kindness. But then, knowing his character, you can imagine that he is asking why he cares while he is nodding in reply to Joe. Which is why he so rudely throws the towel and tells him to take a shower.
I want you to look at the body language and expressions here. One conveys dissatisfaction, whereas the other expresses regret. When I say that Ming is so confused, this right here shows it. He feels immediate regret for hurting Joe, but he doesn't know why. This further agitates him. That's the thing to not forget, he can feel Joe in there, but his brain is telling him it's not true. Wouldn't you second guess yourself on that, too? Plus, he's being told that Joe is alive. So here he is in a pull and push game. Pulling him near because he can feel Joe in there but pushing him away because Joe is alive and this can't possibly be his Joe. Ming is going batshit crazy inside himself, and to be fair, he wasn't exactly sane to begin with.
That robe keeps taking me out of the scene. That is the tackiest wardrobe pick.
Oh, this scene kills me, but I think it expresses what I've been trying to say. Both of them are going through hell, but we tend to sympathize with Joe because he's not an asshole, and we know what happened. We also get to see his perspective, whereas we are left piecing it together with Ming.
Ming is an asshole, but the boy has been alone for two years, wallowing in guilt. He is clearly lonely and touched starved. Before, he was affectionate to the people he cared about, but now we've observed that he's really kept the people at arms length now. Not nearly as handsy with Tong as previous. He might not know to hate or blame Tong yet, but he knows that he was a source of discomfort for his Joe. He's living out the ideology that his Joe will come back, so he is trying to set everything in place for that. Furthermore, he is now in showbiz when he never wanted to be before. He is doing that so wherever Joe is, he'll eventually see him and recognize him. He does the watch commercial featuring the watch his Joe got him, just in case Joe might see it from wherever he is and know that Ming is waiting.
Everything Ming has shown thus far is that he truly believes that Joe is alive and will eventually come back to him. So why is he pulling this Joe close when it goes against what he believes? He doesn't have the answer to that either.
Ming is clearly disappointed to be waking to an empty bed.
Let us revisit the agreement once more as we watch Ming watch Joe make breakfast. Currently, Joe is intended to serve as a substitute boyfriend for a duration of one year. There is no mention of making breakfast in the agreement I heard. Yet here is Joe, making Ming breakfast. Until told otherwise, I'm working under the assumption that Joe felt the need to make Ming breakfast. If so, that speaks volumes, now, doesn't it?
Ming tells Joe to hurry back, that he'll wait for him. There is almost a softening to him here. All the flashbacks getting to him, or does he feel Joe more at this moment?
Sol makes Joe a main character. Does Sol finally feel Joe, or is he just finally moving on and he has a type? I would like to remind everyone that Ming immediately felt Joe, while Sol didn't. So right now I'm working under the assumption that Sol is moving on, and he has a type. Which isn't a bad thing, in the real world we would want someone to move on and find happiness.
Oh, no! Sol recognized his back!
Joe is trying to put that distance up. Is it for himself? Or is it for Ming? Both maybe? He can't possibly miss that he is basically reliving his past at this point.
Shit, suspicious Sol. Joe, you are a terrible liar, and you are also suspicious. “Even in death, misfortune still finds him.”
Sol is now asking himself, how you knew Joe had misfortune in life.
Allow me to point out that Joe is polite to Ming, but not to Sol. When he answered his phone, he didn't say, “Please excuse me.” As he does with Ming.
Sol taking the phone from Joe… That was strictly to antagonize Ming, who he holds responsible for Joe's death. He is seeing the past repeat itself as well. Sol is taking this all in.
The way Joe so quickly takes the phone away to make the conversation private. Barely puts up an argument. Now we could say this is due to Ming paying for his mother and that would be true. However, Joe could at least be a little bit of an asshole, but not once is he. He put a little argument in there, but quickly caved and stayed respectful the whole time. He is trying to put distance by using Mr. Ming, but it isn't working well.
Ahh, look at Joe puzzling it out. “A new life… but why do I feel like everything... Is going back the way it was?”
I love Wut and their friendship.
Hahahahahahahah! Serves the dick right for not being recognized. I can only imagine this is the friend that mom doesn't like. I love Joe's witty remarks back. It appears that both men, named Joe, don't have great taste in men, but at least Ming loves Joe. If he had known it was him laying in the hospital, he would have been there every day. Tharn doesn't give one shit about Joe.
Mom and Joe's relationship is everything. He is really soaking up the motherly love he'd missed out on. Aww… She's so cute. She's just happy to have her son back, but she still feels the need to protect him. I get that on cellular level. Until you are a parent yourself to an older child, you don't realize how hard parenting is. This is when you start desperately looking around for an instruction book, and then you realize there isn't one. Even me with my counseling knowledge am clueless and have messed up, but I try. I tell my kids, I'm giving this parenting thing my all, but ultimately, they'll still have to see a therapist for something I did.
I love, love, the empathy of Joe. He feels so bad for the Joe2 that there are tears in his eyes. He feels for his new mom and the pain of what Joe2 went through.
“Right now, the only person I love is sitting right here with me.” I'm not crying, you're crying. He really is such a lovely human being.
Ming questing Joe about the accident and if he dreamed of anyone. He knows the two men are connected, but he isn't sure how.
Joe packing for Ming. Is that part of the agreement? Is Joe just Ming's to be ordered any way he wants. Let's say that's true, Joe could still push back, but he doesn't. Just because of the situation with his mother doesn't mean he couldn't at least give attitude, but he quickly agrees.
What do you mean, Luta…? Just look at this scene. He sees the watch and he is taken back. Ming comes in and tells him to go away, but Joe puts up a fuss. He might have still left, but he initially gave attitude at being told to leave and not finish packing. Are you guys picking up on that?
Now look. Joe expresses his feelings and opinion on sleeping with the crew and Ming, while not happy about it, doesn't argue. Are you guys catching what I'm saying? Ming is most definitely the Dominant one in this relationship; however, Joe isn't an unwilling submissive. He isn't just going along with things because he has to.
Haha! Face it, Tong, you just aren't as important as you once were. Sorry, not sorry, Joe is more significant. Tong's shock at Ming just getting up and leaving him is lovely. Oh, how I hate Tong.
Everybody is hating Ming, and I'm over here hating Tong. We are not the same.
Jealous, jealous, boy. Look at Ming being his usual jelly self. He wants to know who that boy was.
See! See Joe standing up for himself and what he wants. Their agreement doesn't mean that Ming owns Joe, and Joe doesn't have say. Which means Joe is doing things for Ming of his own free will.
Dude, how has Joe not gotten caught yet!
Lonely, Ming doesn't know how to say he is lonely.
I adore how rude Joe is being to Tharn. Have I mentioned that I hate Tharn?
Um... How does such a short ass boy overpower such a muscular man. I mean it can happen but not in this way. This scene really wasn't executed well.
Okay, so now they're fighting, but it's like Joe really gets Ming. He knows Ming's jealousy now, so he is trying to come in with calmness and sense. Unlike previously, but Ming triggers him. Because Tong is Joe's trigger. He triggers Ming with his words, and it does trigger Ming. Because he knows this is something his Joe would have felt. Ming does what he has always done when triggered with unfamiliar emotions he can't understand, which is to angrily lash out and say the most hateful things. “I bought you so you could wag your tail for me. Not bite me like this.” But in that hate is a confession. Ming is saying that those words hurt him. He is being more communicative than he typically is with anyone, even previous Joe.
Joe is pissed off for not being heard and then being dismissed as a sex toy. He is spewing anger. He is pissed off, but he never once fights Ming. Now in real life this wouldn't fly, and active participation is required to have consent. However, we aren't talking about real life but art and with that, we have to read between the lines.
At one point, Joe clutches Ming's arm. Clutching, not pushing him away. Remember, we've seen what Joe looks like when he doesn't want to have sex. Just previously, he was fighting Tharn. We aren't seeing that here. Now his face says he isn't happy, but this feels more like angry fucked up sex to me. And yes, that is a thing.
And here comes Tong, to add his annoying voice to the mix and not letting us see how they would resolve their anger.
Joe is pissed off that Tong is interrupting. Look, play back the scene. We can see Joe is not happy, and he is grappling with his feelings in the midst of this fucked up sex session, but the minute we hear Tong's voice, there is pain and sorrow. Then when Ming stops and answers the door, and says it's nothing. His anger snaps, but his negative feelings towards Ming are nothing compared to his rage at Tong. I repeated this scene five times and yeah, that is what I saw each time. Notice, though, as he says excuse me, he does not look at Tong as he is leaving. He is forcibly not looking at Tong.
That little smile of self deprecation on Ming's lips and the way he shoves away from the door.
OMG, but I love that Joe throws Tharn out. Just loses his shit and tosses him out in the hallway.
You mean you would like him to hang all over you again, Tong. Look at how Ming is putting up that wall and distance. Finally! Give it to Tong, Ming!
Oh, these two broken men.
“Make me a coffee, too.” And Joe does, no questions. There is hesitation, some grappling with his feelings. Yet, he makes Ming coffee and with care too, the way he knows he likes. Remember, we've established this isn't a part of the agreement, so he doesn't have to. He could have said, no, make it yourself and walked away. Instead, he makes it and then walks away. He made a point with that polite excuse me and walk away.
So Tong took the credit and didn't let Joe have it last time. That explains why Ming was such an idiot about not knowing, that of course, that was Joe's back. It wasn't just Tong saying he did it, he actually took credit for it in on the show credits. Have I mentioned that I hate Tong?
Now Ming knows. Let the devastation begin.
The way that everyone just watches Ming have a mental breakdown. Are they used to it now? And the way Joe just stood there and listened. He ate that shit up, but the boy has such low self-esteem that I'm sure later he'll make an excuse for this.
Ahhh, I need the next episode now.
Well, that's the end of my commentary. I hope you enjoyed it!
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Flower - Exile In Guyville 4
Record shop Eddie Munson x AFAB Reader
Series Summary:
It's 1995 and Eddie is still looking for a home. His nomadic lifestyle as a studio musician for hire has become lonely as he watches his friends move on and start families of their own. The loss of Wayne, and the relationship he forms with an old rocker brings him to a college town where he meets you. Is there room in your life for him?
Chapter Summary: 4.7k words
The day after you find someone in your home, you and Eddie come to an agreement after an unsettling interaction. This is the chapter in which we find out this is a forced proximity fic.
---
The closing door is a signal for him to move off the couch and start heading out. After his coffee. If he happens to take a walk around the house in the daylight to see the lay of the land while he sips away at the warm drink, so be it. He is invested now. Not that he wasn't before last night, but that panicked phone call has set him on the edge. He can't leave you here, and if that means he has to make a solid case for you to accept that, he'll try his goddamned best.
He starts at the back door. A glass window and wooden door with a standard indoor handle. No deadbolt. Not that it would matter, with the glass easy enough to break for someone desperate to get inside. When Eddie goes to inspect the lock, he notices that it's already broken. With a heavy sigh, he kicks the wall next to the door in frustration and decides he might as well check the rest of the entrances. Even though it already doesn't matter.
The front door is a little more secure. It has a deadbolt that works, as well as a handle lock that also works. Still, though, he knows how easy it is to get through these locks, and again the sight of the big windows at knee height on the front porch - either side of the door has them - makes his stomach knot a little tighter. The locking mechanisms are old, probably as old as the house, and the wood is rotting. One set of windows leads to a bedroom, not yours, must belong to one of the roommates gone for the summer. How easy would it be to jack it open without anyone noticing? Too easy.
Back inside, he locks the front door, a useless action, and moves upstairs. So far he hasn't gone into any of the bedrooms, but he saw something last night that he wants to check out before he leaves. Another point of entry. Why are there so many in this place? He counts himself lucky when he finds the bedroom door unlocked, it’s the last one down the left side of the walled off hall. A bed, naked of its sheets, a dresser, and an area rug, but the room is otherwise empty. He sees a large window that opens up to a roof. He knows there’s an escape ladder out there. The window is open, and he suspects it will be the same on the other side of the hall in a bedroom that is the exact mirror image of this one.
With his hand absentmindedly cradling the scar at his neck, he stands in the room painted with the mint green walls and empty CD rack. Thoughts race through his mind. How can he help without pushing? Will you understand? Will he have to move into this piece of shit house if you won’t leave it? He knows he can’t leave you here alone, and it has nothing to do with the way his pants get a little tighter when you bend over and he gets a peek down your shirt. That happened one time, Munson, don’t be a fucking pervert.
When he finally hooks his leg over the back of his baby to ride out into the morning, he looks back up at the old house one more time. From the back parking lot, its visage looks unfriendly, the broken back door an open mouth waiting for you to step in and be devoured. He has to push back the urge to find out where your landlord lives and beat the living shit out of him. Or, search out for the owner of the hand that wrote that fucked note and hid in your kitchen like a little bitch. Waiting for you in the dark. He won’t think about why, because it makes his jaw clench and the anger bubbles. He has an itch in his brain, a foggy thought that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s so sure, despite not really knowing much about this place or you that he’ll get his chance to figure out who this motherfucker is.
–
Keith was scheduled for an eight hour shift, and you were thrilled to find a message on the store machine letting you know that your manager was planning on relieving you after only four while praising you for - yet again - covering her ass. It was starting to get a little old, but you can’t bring yourself to tell her. Because this is what you are, if you’re not the one that helps and does the most, what the fuck are you? No one.
“What are you doing here?” Rose’s voice is hoarse, and she’s wearing sunglasses, while leaning against the counter. You didn’t see her come in, you’re lost in thought and your body is still fighting the booze you drank the previous night.
“Keith’s grandma died.” You think about telling her about what happened after you two parted ways the previous night and think better of it. “Red-eye?”
She nods but holds up two fingers before using her thumb to point back at the other person that you hadn’t noticed coming through the front door. A tall guy with baggy jeans, a thick wallet chain, and a Fugazi shirt. He looks rougher than she does. You’re thankful that neither of them seems in the chatty mood, and fix up their drinks in silence. Rose thanks you with a quick nod, a small acknowledgement, before heading out with her new boy toy. This was probably the quickest way to get him out of her place, a promise of coffee and then she’ll leave him in the parking lot with a kiss on the cheek before heading back to her place. Alone.
This is what seals the deal for you. You can’t ask Rose. She’s done too much for you already, and you’d rather never sleep again than ask her to give up her privacy and space for you. You start weaving a web of thoughts in your head while you go through the motions of your shift. The only place you feel safe is this coffee shop and the record shop. The record shop moreso, and you know it’s because Eddie’s there. Maybe he’d let you sleep in the shop if you agree to do your work for free. Maybe he wouldn’t even really need to know you’re sleeping there if you do it at night when he’s already tucked into his own apartment upstairs.
No. You’re not doing that. You’re not taking advantage of this guy. You’re not going to be a helpless girl for him to protect. You’re not a kitten stuck up in a tree for him to rescue, no, you can find a way to do this without some guy you barely know swooping in to fix it. Fuck that.
Fuck that. It’s your mantra. Your constant thought. Fuck Eddie Munson thinking he can fix you. Fuck whoever it is that thinks he can fuck up your life more than it already is just because he’s decided you belong to him. Fuck everyone but you. They don’t get to decide who you are or how you live. No. No. No. Absolutely not.
Fuck that.
The thoughts swirl around, picking up something new to make you angry at every pass. Fucking hell, can you not get a goddamn break for a minute. It’s an hour before this hell shift ends and he walks through the front door. A brief thought of, I can’t do this right now, and then you’re breathing deep and letting it go. This is the job sometimes. Dealing with assholes. You’ll give him his coffee, and he’ll go back to the shop and leave you alone.
“Hi, Lez, how are we doing today?” James looks almost as bad as you do. His undereyes are craters. You decide to focus on that, and not the rage. He obviously has his own problems.
“I’m peachy. What do you want?” You wave your hand to present the variety of drip coffees behind the counter that he can choose from. You can’t ever remember seeing him here before. Not this time of day, anyway.
“Whatever, just give me a coffee,” that’s fine, you think, a coffee and then out into the world to inflict pain on whoever else he encounters during his day. “Hey, I always thought you only ate pussy, what gives with you and Munson?”
With your back turned, you can’t see the sneer on his face, but you can hear it. It’s bait, and you’re taking it. It’s been a long 24 hours, and you don’t give a flying fuck what this neanderthal thinks of you. You’re more than content to let him believe what he wants, even if you wonder why it might bother him so much.
“Oh, I don’t think Ed cares if I eat pussy, as long as I don’t do it in the middle of his shop while I’m supposed to be sorting records.” The casual snap back you offer along with his cup of coffee only seems to feed the resentment inside this man.
Everything slows down while you stare at James in his eyes, both of you with a single hand on the paper coffee cup as it’s being exchanged. It’s unsettling, the anger in his eyes, but there’s something more. The dark and puffy circles under his eyes you noticed already, but the red rings of his waterline and the red veins running through the whites are only noticeable up close. As if he had been crying. Crying.
The sound of the back door breaks the tension in the moment. Your brain is too tired to tell you exactly why the sight of James’ eyes have the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up. Why his back retreating towards the front door is what allows your muscles to relax. Your hands are balled into two tight fists when your manager calls from her office that you should “get the fuck out of here before it starts to get busy”, so that’s exactly what you do. But not without securing your pepper spray in one clenched fist, and your keys threaded through the other.
–
Eddie’s ride back across town is quiet. It’s still early in the lazy summer college town. No one rushes this time of year, and more than once Eddie’s wondered what the fall will look like for him. And then the winter. Winters are hard, the short days and cold air stir memories that he’d rather forget. Never in the summer though, when the only thing to remind him of that time spent in hell is the stinging trails of scar across his skin.
Those quiet and frigid winter nights are when he finds himself on the phone with Steve the most often. Sometimes for just a moment, a “checking in”, other times until the wee hours of the morning when one of them could be heard snoring on the other end. There’s never been another person that can understand, not like Steve. The combination of shared emotional and physical wounds bound the two together forever. Eddie often wondered if a small piece of that hive they fought along with the rest of the party still remained inside the two of them and cried out for the other.
Thoughts of Steve remind Eddie of something he has forgotten. His friend is planning to visit in a few short days. Excitement and trepidation begin to buzz through him while he weaves his bike through the winding roads to his apartment. Two bedrooms, and Eddie’s already planning ahead. Where he can have you and Steve in the same space. Thoughts spiraling around the idea, and then he worries - you’re never going to agree to it.
He needs to call Steve and talk this whole thing through. Strike that - call Robbie and Nance. Steve means well, but the girls will understand, and he needs to understand. Fast. Because there was a man, and Eddie has no doubt that it was a dangerous man, waiting for you in your kitchen last night. In an empty house. With at least 6 easy points of entry and no way to secure them. He needs to get you out of there, and he needs to make sure you know that he’s safe.
The heat waves have already started radiating off the asphalt by the time Eddie walks across the parking lot from the shed to his back door. His neck aches from sleeping on the ragged hand-me-down couch in your living room. You found it on the curb the week you moved into the house, and grabbed a couple of roommates to walk it the 3 blocks back home. It’s seen better days, and it’s done a number on Eddie. He’s ready to shower and decide what should happen next.
It’s with a little sadness that Eddie turns his back from the door leading to his shop. It would feel empty right now anyway, not even the ghost of you would be lingering. Maybe later, if he can convince you to come home with him, the two of you can spend time together in the records. You can sit and talk. Maybe he’ll leave out his acoustic guitars as an invitation. He’s been yearning to hear your voice again, the one that rises and falls, the one that spoke into him in a way that hasn’t happened in a long time.
The shower helps with his aches, but it’s too hot to let the water heat up enough for real relief. He makes a mental note, one that makes him cringe internally, to pick up some Bengay the next time he’s at the pharmacy refilling his meds. He also makes a related mental note to find a weed man in town, because, despite smelling it around town, he has yet to find any. His stash is dangerously low, and he only used the Valium when it was an absolute necessity.
Post shower, he stands in front of the mirror on the inside of his bedroom door. Damp towel discarded on the floor next to his hamper, he’ll pick it up on his way out. He doesn’t just look today, but he sees. His skin is marked with black ink and scars in hues of pink. He struggles to remember what his body looked like before. Every partner he’s had since his time in that hell place has remarked on the way the ink contrasts with the scars. The doctors tried to graft skin along his left pectoral where the deepest and most gruesome wound was located, but it didn’t take. And he’s left with a pattern of scars that looks like woven cord. He’s learned to see it as beautiful in its own way, and he can’t help but wonder if you would be able to see it as anything other than mutilation.
By the time Eddie manages to fix his hair and dress in his standard black jeans and t-shirt, he’s starting to feel concerned that he might miss you at the coffee shop. The anxiety comes in waves when he thinks about how to talk to you. You, the person that walks around this town with surety, huddled in a corner last night. He can’t stop thinking about it, about the fear in your voice. About how you didn’t have any other person to call that you could trust.
These are the things he ponders as he heads back into the heat of the day. Heavy booted footfalls on the cement sidewalks that are lined with trees while he takes lazy drags of a cigarette. He’s glad for the walk, time to clear his mind and give friendly waves to other business owners that are setting up their sidewalk signs and tables for the day. He makes a mental note to stop at the tattoo shop later, maybe he can bring you with him. The thought brings a smile to his face as he rounds the last corner that brings the facade of the coffee house into view.
Unease when he spots the sight of the younger man throwing the glass door open, a paper cup held tight between his fingers. It’s the last thing you need, to be confronted with someone like James after the night you had, and it immediately sets Eddie on edge as he lengthens his strides to meet him in the parking lot before heading inside. He flicks his cigarette in the direction of the street and switches directions to cut James off before he can head towards a side street.
“Yo, James!” Eddie is on him before James can realize that anyone is even close by, with his face set in anger and frustration. At the sound of his name, his features go slack, and he looks up instead of out into the nothingness of the world. When he recognizes Eddie, it’s as if a mask covers the rage he had etched across his features before he knew he was being observed. A friendly smile placed on top of the angry scowl.
“Eddie, my man! What’s got you out this early?” Eddie doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed it before. James looks at him with barely hidden contempt, and he wonders if it’s been this way all along or if it’s something new.
“Just getting a cup of coffee before heading back to the record shop. You working today? I was thinking about stopping in to talk to Danny at some point.” Eddie doesn’t care if James is working. Eddie would never let someone like James dictate anything about his life. If this guy doesn’t like him, he doesn’t give a shit, but the urge to test him right now is strong. It’s natural for Eddie, feeling out people and checking the temperature. It’s how he survives.
“Uh,” James looks back at the coffee shop for a second, “yeah, I don’t know. Dan might not need me today. I guess maybe I’ll see you later.” A quick pained smile, and he’s practically pushing past Eddie, a shoulder barely missing him as he passes him on the sidewalk. Eddie watches him go, and when he’s about 10 steps away, James turns back to add, “Watch out for queen bitch in there. I think she might have had a rough night or something.”
God, Eddie hates that guy. Probably almost as much as you do, but he says nothing. Satisfied that James is far enough away that he couldn’t sneak up behind Eddie and shove a knife in his back, Eddie’s not sure why that thought came to him but he trusts it, he changes the path of his steps to face the front doorway to the coffee house where he knows he can find you.
–
Your head is down, watching your feet as you move through the dining room and out the glass door at the front of the shop. On a predestined path that ends in your locked bedroom where you can think. Alone. But of course, as you step foot onto the sidewalk, your vision lands on a black boot. His boot. The sight fills you with both relief and annoyance.
“Hi Eddie.” You can’t help the defeat in your voice. You’re tired. The adrenaline is gone, and you need a place to crash. Eddie, however, doesn’t miss the sight of your pepper spray and keys out, and the way you casually drop them into your pockets before bringing your eyes to meet his.
You don’t just look tired. You look half dead, ready to drop to the ground next to his feet. Eddie also doesn’t miss the slight tremor in your hands as you bring your arms up to cross over your chest.
“I, uh, was coming to check in on you. Are you ok?” Of course you’re not ok. But you’re desperate for some time alone, and he doesn’t need to know that.
“Yep. I’m fine. I’m going home to be alone for a while. I need to sleep, and it’s easier when the sun’s out.” Your walls are up, but you can at least recognize the need to offer Eddie something after everything you both went through last night. The man is here to help you, and he’s shown you nothing but kindness, “I can go back in with you and make you something to drink if you want?”
He’s doing that thing again, where he’s listening to your words, and watching your face. He’s checking to see if what mouth is saying matches what your expressions are saying. You let him, but can’t help the way you feel your eyebrows knitting together. He sees you, and all you want to be is invisible.
“No, no coffee. Let me walk you home.” Since it’s not a request, you don’t answer, but continue down the sidewalk letting Eddie follow behind you. You reach a hand into your pocket and pull out a cigarette from the crumpled pack you shoved in there before leaving the house this morning. Before you can search for your lighter, Eddie’s walking next to you with a metal Zippo held out.
“I’m ok, Eddie, I don’t need the escort,” you shove down your annoyance and try to keep things light as you angle your head towards the flame. His offering to light your smoke has you feeling open and vulnerable for some reason, as if accepting it, and the offer of a walk home, are just examples of needing.
He makes no comment, and continues to keep pace with you when you resume your strides towards the big house at the end of the road. It’s a half a block from the coffee shop, and the sight of it right now has you on edge. This is not your home. You have no real home. The thought makes you want to break down and cry. You want to empty yourself, let the feelings out, in a safe place, and this house is not it. So, you make a decision, quick and impulsive. The thought of it has been lingering in the back of your mind since the previous night, but it’s while walking with Eddie that it becomes clear. Because the only home you have right now, the only place you feel safe and comfortable, is the record shop.
“I’m going to ask you for something. I want to tell you that it’s ok if you say no, but I gotta be honest - I’ve got very limited options right now,” your honesty and openness is fueled by exhaustion and fear. All you can do is go for it and hope this new friend, or whatever he is, takes pity on you. “Until I can get things figured out, would you let me throw an air mattress in the stockroom at the record shop? Just so I can sleep at night, I could come back to the house for showers and stuff. It could be in lieu of cash payment for the work I’m doing.”
Standing at the foot of the stairs that lead to the front door of your house, Eddie is listening and nodding his head along with your words. When you look at the front door, it reminds you of a mouth, and you suddenly worry that it will unhinge its jaw and swallow you if you get too close. Even in the bright and shining daylight of this summer day, it feels dark and cold. You know, no matter what he says to you right now, you won’t be staying here. Even if it means calling your parents and begging them to help you. Even if it means sleeping on the floor of Mo’s bedroom. Even if it means finding a spot in the park where you can throw down a sleeping bag.
It’s a surprise to see a hint of a grin on Eddie’s face when you turn back to gauge his reaction to your suggestion, but it sets you at ease and makes you wonder why you were so scared to ask him in the first place.
“I have a better idea, and I want you to just trust me for a minute, ok?” His hand is on your forearm, firm and reassuring, and you have the urge to move closer. Let him pull you into him, let him hold you and tell you it’s ok. So, you nod. Yes, you’ll listen. You trust him.
And you let him guide you, for now at least. Your mind is too scattered, you’re too scared to make any clear decisions. You do what he asks, you pack up - toothbrush, clothes, toiletries, pillow - all of the necessities from your girlhood sleepovers, and meet him back on your front porch.
Eddie helps you carry your burden down the street, shouldering your bag for you, and he explains about the extra room that’s sitting empty in his apartment. He explains that it will cost him nothing to have you there, since you already have free access to his place of business, and he trusts you in his space. He explains that he has been in tough spots before, and wants to extend this offer to you with no expectations outside of providing safety and comfort to you. And you say nothing. You do not look at him while he speaks. You do not hold back the tears, you let them slide soundlessly down your cheeks while you listen to his reassurances. You accept his offer with nothing more than a damp, weak smile and a nod of your head.
–
“The mattress is a little old,” Eddie pushes the door of the spare room open, and you’re relieved to see a bed with clean sheets and a small bedside table, “but I’m told it’s not terribly uncomfortable. Bathroom is at the end of the hall -” he takes a few steps and points at a closed door “- and you can feel free to eat whatever you find in the kitchen. It goes to waste faster than I can eat it.”
“Thank you.” It’s all you have to offer, so you give it, and Eddie relaxes at your words. The nervous energy fades from him, and he sets down your bag at the foot of the bed. The clock reads 4:00, and you simultaneously cannot believe how much time has passed and also that it’s not later in the evening. “Are you heading down to the shop? I can come down and work for a while if you want.”
“The shop can wait until tomorrow,” he waves a hand at the idea, despite the fact that a few hours ago his fingers were itching to open more boxes and get closer to being able to open, “I’m gonna go for a walk and find somewhere to eat. You want to come?”
Your aching body is crying out for the soft bed in the corner of the room, but you find yourself again letting Eddie guide you through this day of hell, and nod. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x afab!reader#stranger things au#tw stalking#eddie munson fluff
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I don’t really feel like the text of FE3H actually supports a reading of Edelgard having Slither-experiment-induced amnesia as a reason why she doesn’t 'remember’ Dimitri, rather it seems to me that it’s because Dimitri is just not recognizable as ‘Dee’ to Edelgard in the way Edelgard is as ‘El’ to Dimitri, for one very pivotal reason.
Dimitri lives his life looking backwards. Edelgard only ever looks forwards.
And of course they do! For Dimitri, his life is very neatly divided into two sections; Before and After Duscur. He had a happy life up until that point, with what felt to him like a complete family that was involved with him; even if he didn’t remember his birth mother, he had always had Patricia. He had close friends and was very sheltered; ‘El’ was someone new and interesting in a life that was pretty stable up until that point. She stood out for that reason, and also because it wasn’t long after she left that the Tragedy occurred. Dimitri seems to have fixated on the time when she was present in his life as ‘The good times, before everything changed.’ He thinks about that time often, idealizing it as a time he wishes desperately that he could return to. He’s also clearly aware of Arundel’s relationship to him, so he already knows that Edelgard is El, and has known that for a long time before they meet again.
But Edelgard’s life before she met Dimitri as a child was already not that great! Even as a child, she wasn’t insulated from the tense social climate in Adrestia like Dimitri was in Faerghus. It’s unclear if she even remembers having a mother (beyond just knowing facts about her), given how young Dimitri was when Anselma became Patricia, and her father doesn’t seem to have been very involved in her life. She has something like a dozen siblings, but they all start disappearing when she’s very young. For her, Faerghus is just a brief bright point in an unhappy life, and Edelgard as a person doesn’t take comfort from thinking about the past. For her, in her cell in the dark with the rats, thinking of better times that are gone is only salt in the wound. She can’t go back to that time, so she intentionally doesn’t think about it. She doesn’t bother looking into who the boy she knew in Faerghus was. She has more important things to do.
It’s not that she’s forgotten altogether, or that she doesn’t value that time; if you meet Edelgard at the tower on the night of the ball she mentions Dee (not by name, but it’s clear who she means). She also hangs on to the dagger that he gave her for the whole story regardless of route. But what she took away from that was not a memory of an idyllic time when she was happy, like Dimitri did. She took away the advice to use the dagger to carve a future. Edelgard almost pathologically refuses to look backwards. Her eyes are fixed on the future she will cut out for herself. She can’t recognize Dee, the gentle boy she doesn’t think about that much, in Dimitri, who’s been broken by tragedy and changed such that even Felix thinks he’s unrecognizable.
And I think what reinforces this is that in Azure Moon, when Dimitri acknowledges her as El, Edelgard’s reaction isn’t that of recovering a memory, but of making the connection that Dimitri is the same person as Dee. She just had not noticed it until then.
Because to her, it doesn’t matter.
She says that to him! It doesn’t matter. ‘Dee’ is part of her past. She is moving towards the future. She fundamentally disagrees with the idea of idealizing the past the way Dimitri does, and cuts it away from herself with intent. I think there’s something to the reading that, when she’s beaten at the end of Azure Moon, she throws the dagger at Dimitri to incite him to kill her. The dagger means ‘cut a path forward,’ and Dimitri knows that. Her values of looking forward and not back are clear even in her dying moments, when she has no choice but to entrust Dimitri with improving the world from there forward.
I think it undermines Edelgard’s character to say she ‘has amnesia’ from that time. She remembers. She just chooses not to prioritize that time. Her eyes don’t stray to what is to her the darkness of her past. They are fixed on the edge of dawn.
#fe3h#Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd#Edelgard von Hresvelg#They are such foils for each other honestly#It's why they can't come to an agreement even when they want to!#Their values are just incompatible and that's just how it is#Fire Emblem Three Houses#fe3h spoilers
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I used to really love the first romance scene with Astarion (and I still do) but it hits so much harder after you know why he's doing it. That he's purposefully seducing you for protection and blood, that he's forcing himself to sleep with you, and this is a mask he's wearing.
It's a sexy scene and really feeds into the vampy (pun intended) jump-your-bones version of him you get at the start of the game. The whole thing starts out with him being so confident and suave, saying that he's wanted you ever since he set eyes on you and how you want to be known and tasted. It's like everyone's perfect vampire romance novel.
He's laying out the bait that's worked thousands of times over and luring you in. And you can just get right to the kissing if you want.
But, you can also stop and ask him, "And what do you want?"
And for just a moment the mask drops. This is not the same cocky seductive face we've had up until now. This is vulnerability showing. When has anyone asked him what he wants? When has anyone cared? Does he even know the answer to that question?
So he pivots. The mask snaps back into place immediately. He turns back into the master seducer and feeds you a line about shared ecstasy to get you back on track.
And then comes what is, to me, the pivotal moment. He asks you "That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"
Looking at his body language he seems unsure at first, maybe questioning his previous tactics. Then he slightly cowers back, lowering himself as he asks the question. The total opposite of his confidence from earlier where he's standing with his arms out wide.
He's not sure what you want anymore. You're not playing by the rules he knows. Why haven't you taken the bait yet? Why haven't you thrown yourself at him?
And when you finally Nod in agreement, confirming you're here for sex?
This. This is the face he gives you. He just looks so damn sad. To me, it hearkens back to "Of course it'll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?"
Whatever momentary blip made him question why you're there with him, he's just been reassured about both of your roles in this situation.
He sounds so quietly resigned when he answers: "I thought so."
And then the scene transitions into the actual act. I do like to think Astarion enjoyed himself as I'm sure the PC did, but it's hard for me to watch this scene now that I know his story and history without being uncomfortable.
Just that line "lose yourself in me" is so difficult to hear. Because on paper it's so sensual. Who wouldn't want a lover to feel that way about them? But knowing the context of what Astarion expects and believes in this moment is just... oof.
And to me, this is what makes this scene brilliant. The writing, voice acting, and the mocap/animation are all just SO GOOD. It's so delicately done and Astarion the character is so good at playing a role that you can completely gloss over the deeper stuff. But once the mask is eventually stripped away you can't help but see what was there the whole time.
And as we've established, being seen is a whole aspect of Astarion's romance arc.
I originally romanced Astarion for the same reasons I'm sure most did: he's a hot, sexy vampire elf (i.e. everything that's on the surface). But, I keep coming back to him over and over again for the person I know is waiting for me underneath the mask.
#astarion#baldur's gate 3 astarion#astarion spoilers#astarion romance#baldur's gate 3#baulders gate 3 spoilers#bg3
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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy
summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.
word count; 8928
notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?
Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction.
Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat.
“Good day?”
“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”
“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations.
A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”
Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.”
He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there.
“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.
“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?”
The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official.
You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment.
It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games.
Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”
Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time.
Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either.
“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”
Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”
“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics.
You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.
“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side.
“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised.
The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you.
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”
The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.
The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over.
You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.
“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”
“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you.
A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.
Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.
The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room.
Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests.
Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.
The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one.
You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it.
“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.”
She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately.
“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had.
“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of.
He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white.
You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness.
“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her.
“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”
Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you.
Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;
“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”
Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you.
“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return.
“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye.
“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go.
“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath.
“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”
He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.
The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you.
He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.
Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass.
He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course.
As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate.
Men did love a little attention, after all.
Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.
You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.
“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.
As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”
“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down.
“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar.
“It is, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere.
When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”
You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”
“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”
“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.
“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”
“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.
“The theatre, then?”
Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”
“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”
“And you, Elliot.”
Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed.
You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.
You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair.
You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch.
As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone.
To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through.
He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat.
His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low.
Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover.
Until, Theo spoke up.
“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.
“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.
“When?”
“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you.
“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”
“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”
“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”
“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”
Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”
“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”
“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”
“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.
You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth.
“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”
You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from.
You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair.
“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”
Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend.
“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.
Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after.
Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know.
It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”
“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”
Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one.
“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”
“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”
Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk.
You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return.
“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”
“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”
He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”
“That is up to your cousin.”
“Touché.”
You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing.
He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night.
As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”
“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”
“He’s not even here to listen!”
“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”
A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.
“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered.
Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”
“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”
It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you.
“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment.
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”
You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.”
You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them.
“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”
Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…”
Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away.
“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.
Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip.
You’d spoken to Draco’s parents.
They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment.
It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”
“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”
“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.”
Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”
The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”
Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps.
It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”
“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”
His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…
“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.
“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”
He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”
“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”
“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”
He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.
When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye.
“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”
“Why do you think I wore it?”
His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”
“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together.
“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”
Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you.
“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features.
“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all.
“‘We’?”
“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news.
“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”
“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more.
“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”
“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted.
“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.
“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”
“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes.
“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”
You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats.
Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left.
“Where are we going, Dray?”
“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice.
Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food.
The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face.
“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”
“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”
He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile.
“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”
“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow.
“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”
His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”
“You never gave me any other indication!”
“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”
The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side.
Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.
“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”
“Yes. I told her days ago.”
“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”
As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”
“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”
“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”
“Blaise.”
“The bracelet?”
“Theo and the Notts.”
At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”
“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”
“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Dray.”
He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”
#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy/reader#draco malfoy/you#harry potter#slytherin boys#tom felton#draco malfoy x y/n
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5 4 3 2 1
words: 1.3k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, established relationship, countdown, edging
“here ya go baby.” rafe says, tossing you the sweatshirt he just took off.
“huh?” you question, but tug the sweatshirt on over your head. rafe always made fun of you for stealing all of his clothes, and you don't know why he's now so willingly handing it over.
“since im going out of town.” rafe explains, coming over to press a kiss against your forehead as you relax on his bed.
you pout, gripping onto his hand so he can't move away. “don't remind me.”
rafe is going on some business type trip with his dad, only for a week, but it'll be the longest you've been away from each other since you began dating.
“sorry, baby.” rafe says, moving to kiss your lips. you melt against the bed, cupping rafes face and running your thumbs over the smooth planes of his cheeks. you groan when he pulls away, cutting off the kiss.
“i have to pack.” rafe explains, heading into his closet and reemerging with his suitcase, setting it on the edge of the bed and opening it up.
you wrap yourself in his sweatshirt, inhaling rafes scent as you chat idly while rafe packs, trying to keep your mind off him actually leaving.
“rafey.” you whine when hes all done, suitcase stuffed full and zipped up by the door, ready to be loaded into the car.
“what is it honey?” rafe asks.
“can you come cuddle with me?” you question, knowing you're going to be deprived of his arms around you for an entire week and want as much as you can of him before he goes.
rafe smiles gently, loving how obsessed with him you are. “of course.” rafe says, pushing the covers down so you can get comfy against the sheets before easing himself in next to you, pulling you into his arms.
“im gonna miss you so much baby.” rafe says, placing a hand on your bum, squeezing it against his palm.
“if i can't sleep while you're gone, can i come and sleep in your bed?” you question. you still live separately from rafe, but often spend your nights together, neither of your parents caring since you're both adults.
“yeah, of course.” rafe says. “rose and wheezie will be home, but you know they don't mind.” rafe says, and you hum in agreement, making a mental note to hang out with wheezie while rafe is gone, maybe take her shopping or to the movies.
rafe moves his hand to your hip, pulling you so your crotch is slotted over his. you adjust yourself, squirming until you get comfortable with one leg slung over his hips.
“stop moving like that unless you want me to fuck you.” rafe groans, trying to keep to just cuddling like you requested, but struggling when you're moving right against his crotch.
you look up, a sly look on your face. “i always want you to fuck me.” you push your core against rafe, grinding your hips down.
“oh, fuck.” rafe groans, pressing his head back against the pillows as he eyes flutter closed, his mouth dropping open.
you continue to move against him as you feel rafe harden, his impressive length swelling in size.
rafe tugs at your shorts, hating the physical barrier blocking him from having you wholly.
you push them down your hips, kicking them further into the blanket to be taken care of later when you aren't solely focused on rafe and getting him inside of you.
“god, gonna miss this baby.” rafe grips your ass, his hand covering your whole bum.
“you sure you can't sneak me with you?” you whine, continuing to grind against him as rafes hand pushes underneath your underwear.
“i don't think ward would go for that, but i want you to call me every night.” rafe tugs your underwear to the side, fingers swiping through your folds.
“oh, that feels good.” you moan, warm and happy now that you're snuggled up under the blankets with rafe.
“gonna feel even better when i get inside of you.” rafe hums out, finger moving to your clit, focusing on it as his eyes drink in the sight of your head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth slung open with pleasure.
“i love you.” rafe mumbles, presses kisses along your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose.
“you softie.” you giggle at the side of rafe only you get to see.
“there's one part of me that's never soft around you.” rafe guides your hand to his obvious bulge before immediately going back to stroking your clit.
you laugh again as you push away his shorts and underwear until his cock is able to spring free. you wrap your hand around the base, holding there for a moment, teasing rafe like he so often does to you.
“baby-” rafe groans out, but then you're moving your hips and sinking onto his cock.
“shit!” rafe groans out, his other arm that was wrapped around your body pulling you even closer to him.
“not gonna be able to go a week without this.” you whimper, beginning to rock your hips back and forth, the side position forcing you to keep the movements slower.
“ill come back and fuck you for hours, promise.” rafe hums out, not wanting to think about leaving either.
“you do that anyways.” you chuckle.
“yeah, you're right.” rafe smiles at you before suddenly thrusting forward, burying himself hard and fast inside of your pussy.
your eyes close again as he picks up a steady pace, fucking into you with no qualms about anyone who might be roaming the hallways and listening in on the sound of slapping skin.
“so tight and warm for me.” rafe grunts, shuffling his shorts and underwear a bit further down his legs so he can better fuck you.
“all for you.” you place a hand on rafes cheek and bring his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, moans and gasps being the only interruptions to your kiss as rafes fingers continue to toy with your clit.
“make me cum, please.” you whine.
“not yet.” rafe hums against your lips. “wait for me.”
you have a problem none of your girlfriends have with their boyfriends. he's too good, too hot, and you're always ready to cum before him, whereas everyone you talk to has the opposite problem or their partners can't make them cum at all.
“can't.” you cry out, feeling how hard your nipples are as they press against rafes chest through the fabric of his sweatshirt that you're wearing, tightening your leg that's slung over his thigh to get him closer.
“you can.” rafe says firmly.
you focus on the motion of his cock entering you, the way that your cunt stretches to allow him inside, only to clench and attempt to stop his outward thrust when he pulls back.
“5…” rafe begins to count, feeling his cock swell and knowing he can't last much longer.
“4…” he continues, fingers moving faster on your clit.
“3…” the countdown feels like it's taking hours, even though it's certainly just seconds.
“2…” rafe can feel your clit pulsing underneath his fingertips.
“1.” rafe pushes his hips as hard as he can forward, burying his cock as deep inside of you as possible as he cums along with you, your cunt clenching around him as your high causes your whole body to shake with relief after holding off.
“god, rafe!” you squeal out as he gives a few final thrusts, ensuring his seed is buried as deep as possible.
rafe pulls his fingers away as you come down from your high, head laid against his chest.
“just… stay like this for a bit. please.” rafe says, hand on your hip to keep you on his cock.
“of course.” you manage to pick your tired head up to press a kiss to his lips. “i could fall asleep just like this.”
rafe let's out a yawn just at the mention of sleep. “i certainly wouldn't say no to that.”
#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x oc#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x reader#rafe imagine#rafe one shot#rafe drabble#rafe blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron one sot#rafe cameron blurb
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I would love to see more of badass reader x Spencer, but maybe reader gets hurt on a case (like a concussion or something) and only wants Spencer and we get to see more of reader’s soft spot for Spencer. Idk if that made sense or if that’s anything you’d be interested in writing. Love reading whatever you write!💕
thank you for your request and for reading babe!! —your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. fem!reader, 1.1k
Emily's foot tap tap taps hospital linoleum. The nurses are getting worried about you —your CAT scans are fine, but you're lethargic. Mildly concussed with moderate symptoms, you winced at the lights, told Emily to turn them off, and haven't said much since.
She frowns. It's not nice to see someone who's usually so closed-off openly pained. "You okay?" she asks.
"I wanna see Spence," you murmur.
Emily nods slowly. She's had this conversation with you already. You have a spot of amnesia, nothing to worry about, decidedly temporary.
"Why hasn't he come to see me?" you ask. Your voice trips and tumbles, your eyes glowing with a glassy sheen. "I thought he'd come to… make sure I was okay. But he doesn't want to see me."
"Spencer's on the way here. He was an hour away with Hotch, remember? They're on their way."
You twitch like a displeased cat under your sheets and turn away from her, sniffling weakly. Your shoulders heave with slow tears. Emily gets up to rub your back but thinks better of it when you stiffen. She doesn't understand how you function, doesn't know what it is about Spencer alone that you can be vulnerable with him and not the others, but she won't judge you for it. She just wishes there was more she could do.
It's an untold amount of time between your tears and Spencer's awaited arrival. You're worse than lethargic, depressed, hand lax behind your back and unresponsive to the sound of the door.
"She's asleep?" he mouths. His hair is limp either side of his face, flattened by anxious hands.
"Upset," she mouths back through a frown, drawing a tear down her cheek with her pinky finger.
He doesn't give Emily a second glance after that.
"Hey," he says softly, rounding your hospital bed, touching the tips of his fingers to your hip and drawing a gentle line up your side. His head dips down, bending at the waist to see you better in the dim lighting. "Hey, what's wrong?"
You make a small keening sound from the back of your throat. It's so cleaving that Emily wants to leave, so painful that she wants to stay. You're her friend too. Emily cares about you, even when it hurts to do so.
"I don't feel like me," you say.
Spencer doesn't shy away either. His expression is open, reassuring as he pops into a semi squat that can't be comfortable. His hand closes around your arm, thumb feeling the naked skin there sweetly. "It's normal to feel confused after a head injury. I promise it won't last."
"I don't feel well," you say, small, like a scared kid.
"I know."
You reach for him. Emily knows Derek would never believe it, your hands stretched out almost desperately, the pleading noise yanked from between teeth normally gritted. Spencer wraps long arms around you with the ease of someone who's done it before, maybe exactly like this.
"It's okay," he says. He's speaking with pep he doesn't feel. Emily can see he's stressed in the high pinch of his shoulders, but he's putting on a show for you. "You don't have to be scared. It's okay."
The perpetual line carved between Hotch's brows seems deeper as he enters the room. Neither of you look up, your back loosening under the lazy back and forth of Spencer's hand.
"Concerning, right?" Emily asks.
Hotch ignores her, but not for lack of agreement. "What do her observations say?"
"Mild to moderate head injury, post-concussion amnesia, fractured index and middle finger on her left hand."
"Where are her clothes?" he asks.
"They can't check her out until she gets her fingers cast and all she brought in her go bag was slacks."
"I'll get her some pyjamas," Hotch says.
Emily's not sure what's funnier, the idea of you in pyjamas, the image of Hotch choosing a pair, or the word pyjamas in his stoic murmur. He lingers to make sure you're okay, his eyes tracking the tremble of your arms as Spencer talks too low to hear in your ear, having sat down on the bed and curled himself around you protectively.
You moan something sad and Spencer laughs, your hospital gown crinkling as he massages the top of your shoulder. "Why would you say that?" he asks lightly. "You think you know better than me? Really?"
"Of course not," you say. If it were anyone else, you'd have knocked them off the bed already.
"I don't remember you having an eidetic memory," he furthers.
You actually manage to laugh for the first time since your initial injury. "I don't remember anything right now," you say.
Emily leans over to Hotch. "You know, when we first came in, I suggested to the nurse that she might have amnesia because she kept asking me where she was, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, well, good thing you're not a nurse."
Hotch scoffs a laugh. "It's a little surprising even now. Seeing them together, you'd never think it."
"Think what?" Emily asks, fond rather than judgemental. "That she's as emotional as a China teacup?"
"I'll remember for both of us," Spencer murmurs, stroking your face. "Okay? So calm down."
Derek once told you to calm down and felt the cold of your icy attitude for a ragged week. Spencer says it and you take a visible deep breath, your head laying back in your pillows, his hand quick to cup the side of your neck. "Okay," you say quietly.
"It's not just that," Hotch says, failing to explain further.
He doesn't have to. Emily knows what he means. You can be snippy, aloof, unfriendly. But it's not just your softening that's surprising, it's Spencer's growing confidence. The ease with which he handles you, hands unabashed in their comforting.
"Want me to find you something to wear?" Spencer asks.
"We got it," Hotch interrupts. "Take it easy, Y/N. Rest."
You nod obediently. He and Emily leave, hearing a last snippet of conversation as the heavy door closes behind them.
"You wanna sign my cast, when they do it?" you ask hopefully.
"Are you kidding? I'd love to. I've always wanted to sign someone's cast, and it's good for your morale."
"Will they be in a cast long, do you think?"
"They should be healed in about six to eight weeks, but you may not regain full strength for another two months afterward. There have actually been studies…"
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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(gasps) he's a fae?? Part 1 MDNI
Yan! Butler who is skilled in practically everything, allowing him to serve you wherever and whenever for you.
Yan! Butler who is never even once considered to be intimidating in your eyes yet other people would always have a say about it. Why can't you notice the way he glares at all your suitors disapprovingly?
Yan! Butler who always has the last words of critiques toward your suitor, causing you to scrap them away in pursuit of a better suitor for your country's well-being.
Yan! Butler who is secretly working on his influence and status as he steals what is rightfully your scrapped suitors. Bits by bits, he has grown into a fine gentleman within the years he has served you.
Yan! Butler who has spent his entire life building everything from the day you took him into the shelter of your wings, allowing him to understand how it feels like to be home. Allowing him to unleash the avarice side of a human.
Yan! Butler who is never content with just standing next to you as a servant, no. He wants to stand on an equal ground as you do as your lover. He has to. He has spent his whole life keeping you safe from impurities, allowing you to bloom beautifully. Only he is allowed to defile you should the call come. Only he is allowed to have your lip against his and frankly speaking, his cock.
Yan! Butler who will sometimes walk out of the picture, hiding himself somewhere secluded, teeth clutching on a handkerchief you embroidered for him as he pumped his cock vigorously.
The perfume you were wearing was an anonymous present from a noble, someone you assumed to be one of the many suitors. You were unaware that the noble was the butler who had served you since you were children, the same boy you once had your eyes shaped in a heart.
The idea of you wearing a scent he crafted himself may not be as romantic as what others had in store but he knew that better than anyone. He was an orphan, true. But were you aware that the orphan was never a human?
Back in the country he once lived in, there's a courting habit that the faes pride themselves in doing so. And that was to give their beloved a perfume that was personally handcrafted in memory of the most cherished memory they had in mind.
And the scent you were wearing was the memory of you saving him, the smell of the rain that drenched him mixing with the flowers' smell from your basket,
and the smell of love blooming from first sight.
His hip jerked upward as he relished in the memories. You might not realize it but seeing you wearing it so proudly rendered him helpless to the point he crumbled as nothing but an ejaculating mess. The smile that was so gentle and sweet as you coaxed him into the carriage... and the hands that were so warm when compared to his pale, cold ones.
Oh, how he would kill just to have you feel him all over while wearing his scent.
Soon he would be able to consummate with you as a spouse. Just one more year and he would present himself as a suitor who would outmatch the whole list, free of blemishes, critiques, and flaws.
Then just perhaps, the fae would be able to restore his kingdom and propose an agreement of bridging two countries through marriage.
#I wrote this in a rush so it's not pique perfect plus I'm having a terrible writing block rn#CatboX#Yandere Smut#Yandere x Reader#x GN Reader#Yandere Imagines#Yandere Scenarios#Yandere Blurb#Yandere Fae
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Passing Time
“have you all on top of me, acting like it's not that deep. boy, you can take it out on me” — YOU RIGHT, doja cat ft. the weeknd
SUMMARY: you and the triplets are driving around boston in the middle night, as you often do. matt and nick suddenly decide that they want snacks, leaving you all alone in the minivan with chris while you both wait for his brothers to return.
WARNINGS: smut, fingering, riding, car sex !!!
AUTHOR’S NOTE: who doesn't love a bit of asshole!chris? also thank you for almost 200 followers already that's insaaaaane :)
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"I'm kinda hungry guys," Nick says suddenly. You'd all been singing along to Dominic Fike just a moment before, when he'd suddenly decided to announce his hunger. You turn to look at him from your spot in the backseat next to him, nodding your head in agreement. The four of you have been driving around Matt's car for what feels like hours now and you could use a snack.
"Should we go to CVS or something?" Matt asks, and Nick nods enthusiastically. He swerves the car around, so that you're driving back in the direction of the closest CVS.
It only takes a few minutes for you all to get there. The parking lot is empty save for two other cars, and Matt pulls into a spot right in the back corner.
"Why'd you park so fucking far away?" Nick complains, and Matt rolls his eyes.
"Just come help me get snacks, moron," he replies. Nick huffs in frustration but agrees, opening the back door. Just as he's jumping out of the minivan, he turns back to look at you.
"You coming?" he asks, but you shake your head. You want snacks, but you're feeling kind of lazy, since it's so late at night. You'll just pay the triplets back tomorrow or something.
Nick closes the car door and you watch as the two brothers walk off towards the store, before sighing and leaning back in your seat. You look at Chris in the passenger seat, sitting there stone-faced with his arms crossed.
It's no surprise that neither of his brothers even bothered to ask him if he wanted to go with them into CVS. He's been in a terrible mood all night, having barely said a word despite usually always loving your late night drives. Most of his favorite songs have been played but he's not been singing along, and you have no idea why.
"Do you wanna put the music back on?" you ask quietly, just to break the awkward silence forming between you two. Chris turns around in his seat to look at you, with probably the most bored and annoyed expression on his face that you've ever seen.
"Eh, if you want," he shrugs unenthusiastically, turning back around to fiddle with the Spotify. Dominic Fike's calm voice resumes flowing quietly through the speakers, but you can barely focus on the music since you're now so preoccupied as to what's gotten Chris in such a shitty mood tonight.
You swallow nervously. There's a strange atmosphere in the car now, one that you've never experienced with Chris before. All your life, you've been best friends with the triplets, the four of you closer than ever. You're not sure why Chris has been distant tonight, and also in the past couple of weeks.
Now that you think about it, he has been bailing on you guys meeting up pretty frequently. He'd always be down to hang out with you, whether it was in a big group or just the two of you alone.
His change over the past few weeks has piqued your curiosity, and you can't resist asking: "Chris, are we okay?"
His eyebrows and he turns around in his seat to face you. Chris shrugs, turning back. You roll your eyes, annoyed at his unwillingness to respond to your question. Sick of him ignoring you, you clamber from the back into the driver's seat, forcing him to look at you.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a knowing look, folding your arms across your chest.
"Trying to get you to answer me," you shrug. "So... what's going on?"
"Nothing," he quickly retorts, unable to make eye contact. You continue looking at his face, before sighing loudly and averting your gaze.
After a moment of silence, Chris huffs in frustration, which catches your attention. You turn to look at him and find him already looking at you. His expression is stern but you can detect a bit of... sadness in his eyes?
"It's just... annoying," he says vaguely. You tilt your head to the side in confusion, urging him to continue. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows nervously. "Being with you all the time," he continues. "It pisses me off."
"What?" you exclaim, taking immediate offense to his words. "You don't like hanging out with me?" you ask thereafter.
"Nonono, of course I do," Chris says quickly, now realizing his mistake. "I just- it's... not in the way that I want."
"Huh?" you say, dumbfounded. You have no clue what he's trying to say.
"Don't you get it?" Chris asks, a smirk now forming on his lips at your innocence. He looks down at his lap and you follow his gaze, eyes widening as your line of sight aligns with his crotch, a clear tent shape formed in his sweats.
"Oh, u-um..." you stammer, unsure what else to say. You feel your heart racing, honestly unable to fathom what you're looking at. Chris is hard... because of you? It doesn't make any sense.
You don't have time to contemplate this any more, because his hand snakes over and rests on your upper thigh. Your eyes widen further and his face suddenly turns apprehensive as he loosens his grip.
"Is this okay?" he asks quietly. You nod rapidly, feeling heat pooling in your core. Chris' smirk only grows as he cocks his head to the side. "Alright, you gonna help me out with this?" he asks you, referring to his obvious hard on. Despite yourself, you grin, and climb onto his lap so that you're straddling him, your chest flushed against his.
His hips immediately buck upwards into your heat, causing a quiet gasp to escape your lips. He practically groans at the sensation, before grinning and leaning forward to kiss you.
It isn't a kiss that tells you he wants you. No, it's a kiss that tells you he needs you, and that he's probably needed this for a while now. You open your mouth and swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, before his brushes lightly over yours. The kiss quickly turns more passionate, both you desperate for more.
You feel Chris' hands slide down your back and pull you closer to him. His cock throbs against you, and you rock your hips back and forth for more friction. He moans into your mouth, before sliding his fingers down your legs and between your legs.
He doesn't waste any time and pushes two fingers inside of you. You moan against his mouth as he pushes them deeper, breaking the kiss and moving his tongue down your neck. His teeth scrape lightly on your skin before he gently bites down. At this, you cry out, unable to help yourself.
"Fuck, Chris," you say, and he smiles against your skin at the sound of his name.
Chris then pulls his mouth from your neck to your breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. You arch your back, needily rocking your pussy harder against his fingers, which are still working inside of you.
"Shit, ma," he hisses, clearly unable to wait any longer as he pulls his fingers from you and licks them clean. "Need to be inside of you," he pants, more to himself than to you.
He sits up a little straighter, creating even more friction between the two of you that has you dripping, before shuffling down his sweats and boxers a little. His cock springs free, the tip a needy red and already leaking precome.
Using your knees, you push yourself upwards slightly so that he has the space to place the head of his cock against your wet opening. You hold your breath as you lower yourself down onto him, his dick stretching you out as he fills you completely.
"Chris, you're so big," you moan as you start rocking your hips back and forth.
"You can take it," he responds casually, grabbing your ass and squeezing tightly. You lean in to kiss him once again, tasting the remnants of your juices on his lips from where he sucked it off of his fingers. Putting your hands flat on his chest, you ride him harder.
Just as you feel his cock start to twitch inside of you, Chris mumbles a quiet, "I'm so close, baby." You nod in agreement, feeling the tight knot in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel.
Chris is beginning to lose all control now, his thrusts into your becoming harder and more desperate. You don't mind though, the way he's pounding into you harder and harder sending you closer and closer over the edge.
"C-Chris, I'm gonna-" you whimper as you feel your orgasm beginning to unwind, not even able to finish your sentence due to the immense of amount of pleasure.
"Do it," he tells you. "Come for me, ma."
You do, your whole body shaking as you moan loudly. He continues to thrust into you, rubbing further on your clit. Chris then lets out a load groan, his cock twitching more inside you. He quickly pulls out, jerking himself a couple of times before he finishes, cumming all over your shirt.
"Chris!" you exclaim, looking down at the mess he's made.
"Shit," he chuckles, shaking his head. "My bad, baby."
The nickname makes your heart flutter, and you remain seated on Chris' lap while he reaches past you, opening the glovebox and pulling out a packet of tissues. He gives one to you to clean yourself up before wiping the cum from his dick and scrunching up the tissue, shoving it into the pocket of his sweats. He also attempts to rub some of his seed from your shirt, but when he realizes there's no use he pulls off his hoodie and hands it to you.
"Wear this," he tells you, and you give him a thankful smile as you pull it over your head.
"Thanks," you mumble quietly, pulling yourself off of him and pulling your pants back up.
"Looks so pretty on you," Chris mutters, eyes fully fixated on you. "We're doing this again, by the way."
You nod in agreement, about to say something else when Chris' eyes suddenly widen in shock as he looks just past you. "Fuck!" he says. "They're coming back. Quick, get back in your seat!"
You do as he says, clambering from the driver's seat back to where you were originally sitting. You fall back into the seat with a sigh, exhausted from fucking Chris not even five minutes before.
You both sit in silence for the short time it takes Matt and Nick to get back. They climb back into the car, Nick holding a large bag of snacks in one hand.
"The line was so fucking long, sorry guys," Matt apologizes as Nick begins emptying the bag. He grins at the packet of mini gummy worms he presumably bought for himself.
"All good," you answer. "Chris and I just listened to music while you were gone."
"He stopped being such a miserable cunt, then?" Nick questions, a tad skeptically. You chuckle and Chris just rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, his eyes locked with yours.
You can't wait for the next time you see him.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE PT. 2: can you tell i like the word baby lol. also i feel like i never have any dialogue in my smut LMFAOOOO i get too carried away w them fucking byeeee
#chris sturniolo#sturniolo#chrissturn#chris#mattsturniolo#sturniolo smut#chrissturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#nicksturniolo#nick sturniolo
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𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 + 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒/𝐎
warning: general drunkenness, reader is referred to as "girl" in san's
seonghwa ; he's so unbelievably soft for you. something about having his pretty baby so in love with him, hanging off his arm and pressing your side impossibly closer to his, even when you're not completely yourself, makes his heart swell in his chest, his stomach doing somersaults.
"be careful, love." he chastises you gently, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, thumb rubbing little circles on the skin of your shoulder. "don't want you getting into trouble, yeah?" and you just swoon over him, turning in his hold so your arms snaking around his own shoulders, nuzzling into his chest. and you're too hazy to notice the soft look in his eyes and the soft blush that covers his cheeks.
hongjoong ; he seems like the type to be a little insecure in a relationship. he's so busy, he porbably doesn't feel like he gives you enough attention and it gets him down a little bit. the question of what if you find someone who treats you better? always sits in the back of his mind. but when you get all clingy and sweet with him when you get a little drunk at the studio, his worries almost seem to dissipate.
"and those are the reasons why..." you start, cutting yourself off with a hiccup, resting your head against his chest from your spot in his lap. "those are the reasons why i love you." you finish, smiling to yourself in your drunken daze. "ah, okay, i see. " he indulges, nodding and smiling down at the mess you are in his lap. he hears something that sounds like a muffled "you better" coming from you, feeling the vibrations of your voice as he runs his fingers down your back.
yunho ; he would think you're the cutest thing he's ever seen <3 he's truly the type to be completely entranced by his partner and to see you have that same reverence for him? it just makes him so, so happy. he's the type to have you close to him all night, sitting in the booth of the bar wiht his arm slung around your shoulders while you lean against him, ead on his chest, hand lifted to hold his, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
"you feeling okay, baby?" he asks, noticing how quiet you'd gotten. and you'd just nod against his chest, sniffing a little bit from the drinks, mumbling that you're fine and that you just want to look at him, blinking slowly as you explain yourself. and he gets so red, smiling brightly and keeping you close to his chest proudly while the rest of the guys at the booth tease you relentlessly.
yeosang ; he gets so shy and flusterd, poor guy :( he's not a very touchy person, generally speaking, so when you go to him, laying your head in his lap where he was sitting on the couch in your apartment, once the sleepy affect of the beverage has sunken in, gazing up at him with big, lovestruck eyes, he can't help the soft pink that colors the shells of his ears.
"are you okay, y/n?" he asks, voice low, with that shy quality to it, as you look up at him, your hand reaching to cup his face, fingers tracing his birthmark delicately. "better than okay, sangie." you grin, running a thumb over the crest of his cheekbone. "i got so lucky-- to have someone to beautiful." you hiccup through your words, making him look up and away from your reverent expression, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in a smile.
san ; loves it. adores it even. you already knows he's absolutely a clingy drunk and he loves that you are too because it just proves to him how perfect you are for each other. he's the type to believe in soulmates and this is his sign. he just loves how you look at up at him, blinking slowly, and grabbing his hands, pressing little kisses to his knuckles and telling him how how handsome he is.
"yeah, honey? i'm the prettiest boy you've ever seen?" he asks, half-teasing, but you just nod in agreement, movements slow and lazy due to the alcohol flowing through your system. "i'm glad you think that." he says through a soft smile, reaching to ruffle your hair from you're leaning against his chest. "cause you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen. makes us a perfect match, doesn't it?"
mingi ; adores you when you get clingy. he's absolutely the type to revel in your physical nature. he loves how you excited you get to see him when he comes to pick you up from the bar after your friends had called him, asking for his assistance in getting you home. he loves how you run up to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, telling him how much you missed these past few hours that you'd been out.
"missed me?" he asks, only half-teasing, laughing to himself when you nod against his chest, mussing your hair in the process. "i missed you, too, honey." he grins, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "now lets get you home, yeah?" and he smiles to himself at how you cling onto his arm, grip vice-like in the car.
wooyoung ; he doesn't seem like the type to let himself be soft often. he feels like he has to be funny or flirty or abrasive at all times, but all those walls come down when he's around you, especially when your uninhibited and he knows you need his help. his voice gets so soft, touch gentle as he lets you wrap yourself around him, nuzzling into his chest, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin there.
"okay, baby," he starts when your body goes nearly limp against his. "you think it's time to go home?" and you just shake your head, hair mussing against him, before raising your gaze to meet his and mumbling something about how you'd go wherever he wanted you to. and he'd just laugh, soft and warm, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you out of the bar. "alright, alright. let's get you home, lovey.
jongho ; although he doesn't necessarily seem like the clingiest person himself, he does seem like the type to enjoy having a clingy partner. it has something to do with him liking to be needed. it makes his chest puff up in pride and his eyes shine when you latch onto him. especially when you're all hazy and uninhibited, letting him take care of you.
"oh, really?" he grins pulling you close to him as you grapple onto his strong arms as you mumble something about how strong he is and how you adore him and everything he does for you. "you need me that much?" he asks, tone almost condescending if it wasn't him, and if you weren't inebriated. he shifts his grip around you as you nod againist his arm, staring up at him with big, sparkly eyes. the image of you so adoring of him makes his heart swell in his chest, biting his lip and trying to swallow his smile.
#ateez#atz#ateez reactions#atz reactions#ateez imagines#atz imagines#ateez fluff#atz fluff#ateez headcanons#atz headcanons#jung wooyoung#park seonghwa#choi san#kang yeosang#song mingi#choi jongho#kim hongjoong#jeong yunho
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Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (II)
The two yokai men reach an agreement and you begin your journey together, searching for clues regarding the mysterious case of your incomplete reincarnation. You learn about the third of the Legendary Yokai, a gargantuan monster worshipped in times of war.
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]
The next swish of the mysterious man's sword is parred by Kiritsubo, who managed to make his way to you in time.
"Wait! It's not entirely him, Murasaki, I can explain!" He shouts frantically.
"So you let him live. This is why you've never been good for anything." The dark haired man snarls in a low voice, disgust seeping through his sharp teeth.
It becomes obvious rather quickly that he has the advantage in terms of battle experience. You can only stare in fear, stuffing your wound with your jacket sleeve. What else can you do? You're bleeding profusely and if a demon of Kiritsubo's stature cannot compete, you'd be even less helpful.
"Listen to him, man, I genuinely don't know anything about your master!" You beg as your limbs are flooded with a prickling sensation. They're slowly going numb. "Please. I just want to go home."
Damn it. You have no idea whether the bleeding will stop anytime soon. Is this how you die? You won't even get a proper burial. Even worse, your family will live on thinking you vanished without a trace, unaware you've been stabbed to death by a crazy jackass in feudal Japan. You wish you could make them stop.
You squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to think of a way to escape, when you hear both men groan in pain. You look ahead to see them on the ground, clinging tightly to their chests, faces twisted in a grimace. Huh? They couldn't have killed each other in the few seconds they were out of your view. What is going on?
After a few agonizing moments, the yokai seem to calm down. Kiritsubo is gasping for air, clumsily pulling himself back up. Murasaki remains on the grass, forcing himself to appear collected despite the cold sweat coating his forehead.
"That's...what...I...meant..." The silver haired demon groans between hitched breaths. "Whew. You see it now, don't you? She doesn't emanate enough power to pull this off. It's coming from somewhere else."
Murasaki clicks his tongue in visible annoyance.
"So then, what do you suggest?"
"I don't know. But something is stopping you from killing her and there's a chance she's connected to the source."
"What are you guys whispering about?" You inquire, crawling closer towards the horned men. "And why did you suddenly collapse? You scared the hell out of me!"
"You didn't feel anything?" Kiritsubo questions you with raised eyebrows.
"Besides the, I don't know, stab wound? No, thankfully." You respond sarcastically.
Without a word, Murasaki stands up and approaches you. He crouches down to your level and nonchalantly slaps your hand away from your shoulder.
"Hey!"
"Have you ever tended to a wound in your life? You're shit at it." He uses his sword to cut off your sleeve and folds it over your gash with calculated movements. You hiss at the pain and glare at him. "Bite down on a stick if you can't handle it. Better than being dead."
The white haired yokai flashes you an awkward but reassuring smile.
"He might be an ass about it, but he knows what he's doing."
"Why are you helping me, anyways?" you point out, somewhat wary. "You literally tried to kill me a moment ago."
"I changed my mind. You'll help us find the damned bastard or whatever it is he's using to control us."
"What, the priest? Hell no, I'm going back to my world. I've had enough action for the rest of my life."
Murasaki finishes bandaging you and gives you one final press, almost as if messing with you, and you wince. He stands up and slides his sword back in its sheath.
"If you focus a little, you will find there was no question or request in my words. I'm not negotiating with a weakling like you."
Kiritsubo squats down before you and claps his hand together, pleadingly.
"Please think about it, (Y/N). I know you don't owe us anything, but there's a chance we could finally break the seal and be free. If you'd consider helping us. You can walk away, but that won't change the fact you're part of Abe no Nakamaro. He will want his powers back at some point, and we can protect you when the time comes."
You cross your arms and frown thoughtfully, pondering the options. He did save you twice already. So in a way, you're indebted to him. And if he's right, and you will have to deal with more crazy encounters in the future, it's probably better to have two powerful demons by your side.
"Alright, alright. I'll help you." You exclaim with a confident nod.
Kiritsubo grins, satisfied, and Murasaki huffs and looks away. There's a prolonged silence as you wait for them to continue with further instructions, but the men remain quiet.
"So...what now?" you eventually speak up.
"Oh. I thought you knew where to go next." the silver haired man retorts, confused.
"Idiot. She's not a compass." Murasaki scolds him. "Can you stand?" He adds, turning to you. "There's a shrine a few kilometers away that belonged to him. If we leave now, we should make it before sunset. Maybe we can find something there."
You try to prop yourself up, but Kiritsubo promptly scoops you with his sinewy arm and throws you on his back again.
"I'll carry you. Just hold on."
A faint blush dusts your cheeks, but you don't have the energy to argue it. You clutch onto his broad shoulders and nod.
The walk is uneventful and both yokai seem to be distracted. The gentle swaying is causing you to be more comfortable than you'd like to admit and your eyelids become heavy with exhaustion. Before you know it, your head drops against the toned back and you fall asleep.
By the time you open your eyes again, you've already reached your destination. You yawn and stretch, lazily scanning the surroundings. A heavy shadow looms over you and you glance up. Still groggy from your nap, you scream before you can fully process the object towering above.
It's a statue. A colossal statue of some sort of monster. A demon with thick, wide bull horns sprawling out imposingly, almost eclipsing the ridiculously muscular build. The creature has four arms, flexed in a threatening manner, with one hand gripping a heavy spear and the other a skull. The crimson light of the sunset creeps through the windows and reflects against the chiseled clay, giving the statue a devilish glow. You feel insignificant.
"That's Suma."
"W-what?" your head tilts to Kiritsubo.
"He's one of us. You might meet him soon, if he's been alerted of your presence. This is a shrine built for him, to bring good fortune during times of war."
You cannot help but gawk at the structure.
"Is it, uh, life sized?"
"Heh, almost. He's a little taller than this." He chuckles, slightly nostalgic.
You swallow dryly. Just a moment ago you thought Kiritsubo was unusually big.
"I'd rather not meet him, to be honest." You shiver at the idea.
"Don't worry about it. Now that Murasaki has joined us, you're pretty much safe from anything. He's the strongest of us." The yokai remarks with a sad smile.
"Really?"
You peek at the dark haired man, currently flipping through dusty manuscripts, and briefly observe him. Compared to Kiritsubo, he's quite slender, with noble, elegant features. And he'd be able to defeat this enormous beast? Then again, the glimpse you've caught of his swordsmanship is enough of a convincing argument.
What a bizarre gathering of creatures beyond your understanding.
You remember to look away when Murasaki grunts and throws the remaining scroll of paper. His lips form a thin line as he rakes his mind for the next step.
"Nothing here. But I'm rather certain he has to be at one of his hideouts. We'll check each and one of them if we have to."
"Wait, are you saying he's still alive? We saw his body before Sekiya and Sakaki took him for the embalming and burial."
Murasaki scoffs at his partner's gullible nature.
"And you believed it? That parasite spent his entire life searching for ways to prolong his reign. He's probably hiding somewhere, waiting for his renewed part of the soul to return to him."
He rests against the wall and points a clawed finger at you.
"This must've been his solution. Releasing his remaining energy until it found a proper vessel to grow stronger, and patiently awaiting the body swap. Then we go back to being whipped dogs fulfilling his whims."
It's your turn to be outraged, twisting your mouth downwards.
"No way, I'll pound that old man into sand!" You bark and throw a jab against the air, emphasizing your threat. "As if I'd just hand myself over."
"I'm not sure if it'll be that easy, (Y/N)..." Kiritsubo glances at you with a hurt expression. "He's a terrifying, vengeful bastard."
"Not if we find him first and take him out." Murasaki counters with a glint of determination in his eyes. "Humans need to rest, don't they? We'll spend the night here and tomorrow we head out. Kiritsubo, find me a map so we can keep track of the locations. I'll bring the wood for a fire."
And with this, he marches out. Kiritsubo scurries to his duty and you quietly follow his movements. He seems to be used to executing Murasaki's orders. You hadn't considered their group dynamic much, but it appears to have some rather complex hierarchies involved. You almost wish you could witness all of them together, wondering how they'd interact with each other.
Who knows? If you stick around, it could happen eventually. Murasaki was surprisingly easy to convince, so the other yokai might as well agree to keep you alive until you find their source of misfortune. Heh. Almost like a harem, or something. You snicker to yourself.
Which reminds you...
The fire has been lit and Murasaki mumbles something about guarding the perimeter. This time you hurry outside after him. You reach out to the dark haired man and pull on his kimono sleeve.
He turns to you, mildly irked.
"What?"
"Teach me how to use a sword." You state with the assertiveness of an order.
"Why? I can assure you I'm more than enough. I've never been defeated." He stares at you, incredulous.
"I don't want to rely on you all the time. You're already this close to being unbearable", you explain, pinching your fingers together. "Besides, if I'm going to be stuck among beasts, I'd very much prefer being the one doing the cool stuff."
And with that, you pretend to slice through an invisible enemy, whistling the sound of your sword cutting through the air. You furrow your eyebrows, imitating the engrossed expression of a seasoned samurai in the middle of a battleground. Murasaki quickly lifts a hand to his mouth - did he chuckle just now? - and responds, the faintest amusement in his voice:
"As you wish. But I'm warning you now, I won't hold back."
"I've been injured twice in less than 24 hours, I'm sturdy enough." You answer, patting your chest proudly.
Next time one of the Legendary Yokai comes for you, you won't be as vulnerable. That's for sure.
#female reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#monster x reader#yandere yokai#yokai x reader#yandere demon#yandere monster#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#male yandere x reader#yandere original character#yandere oc#original character#original work#yokai oc
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the acrid smell of acetone permeates the room as you gently rub away the chipped black polish on sukuna's fingers. in hindsight, you really should've worn a mask, but when sukuna asked if you wanted to 'paint his nails or whatever', you jumped at the opportunity before he changed his mind.
"hurry up brat," sukuna scoffs, clicking the roof of his mouth. you squeeze the hand held in yours in annoyance and meet his gaze.
"patience kuna, you can't rush art!"
"what art, you're painting my nails black?"
"just shush and let me paint them."
"don't tell me to shush, i've beaten people up for less."
"okay big guy, anyways i'm done. gonna start painting them now."
sukuna only grunts in acknowledgement and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. he's had a long day today, and the gentle rubbing of your hands on his calmed him down. he'd never admit it, but he finds it relaxing when you play with his hands. your soft skin pressing against his.
he missed you today. he doesn't understand why because he comes home to you every single evening, but he felt uneasy the whole day. at first, he thought he might've eaten some bad meat, but he realised he was unlocking his phone just to see the picture of you he kept as his background. he found himself scrolling through his gallery on his lunch break, which consisted of pictures of his nephews, car parts, and mainly you.
sukuna felt lovesick.
he just wanted to come home, leap straight into your arms, and stay there until he had to leave for work the next day. was that too much to ask for?
but of course, his avoidantly attached tushie would never admit it or verbalise it. it's a miracle you're fluent in sukuna and recognise his need for your touch and closeness. which is why you were taking as long as possible painting his nails. even giving him a little hand massage whilst you did it.
he hummed and sighed in relief when feeling your lips press against the palms and backs of his hands. he loved you so much.
"love you too kuna."
his eyes fling open at your words, and he realises in his hazy state of mind he said those words out loud. you giggle at the look on his face and start painting his nails, finally.
your boyfriend watches your every single move, drowning in how beautiful and majestic you look. your gentle strokes when filling his nails, the tip of your tongue peeking out in concentration and the firm grip of your hand.
before he knows it, you're already moving on to the next hand. sukuna frowns at how fast the time seems to be going. he knows he told you to hurry up, but he wanted to savour the feeling. you look up, feeling the intensity of his frown and grin at sukuna.
"we can cuddle whilst watching a movie if you'd like?"
"only if i get to pick the film," he huffs. your smile only widens.
you finish painting his nails and gently blow on all of his fingers. his hands are so beautiful. strong, veined, with calluses from working so hard all day. the paint will probably start to chip away again, in a week or two, but you'll be right here to paint a fresh new layer on.
"beautiful," sukuna whispers above you. you nod in agreement, appreciating the black on his nails. it suited him so well, but maybe you could convince him to let you choose a different colour next time. you glance up at sukuna to tell him and realise he's staring at you.
not caring if his nails have properly dried or not, he lifts his hand up to your face, gently kissing your nose, your cheek, and finally, your lips.
"beautiful," he whispers once more.
i am taking requests and writing fics and matchups for gaza. check the linked post out to find out more !!
© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.
#🌻.sunspell#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk writing#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna ryoumen#ryoumen sukuna#sukuna smut#jjk smut#sukuna ryoumen x reader#ryoumen sukuna x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x gender neutral reader#꩜— interstellar communications
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Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.
Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".
Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.
Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...
Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.
And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?
You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.
For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.
Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?
Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.
But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.
All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.
From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.
What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.
#long post#again i want to be clear because i think wyll fans are a little understandably defensive of him#this is not about wanting wyll to be a bad person#its about wanting him to have an arc that parallels the rest of the companions#and be more firmly centered on HIS feelings and choices#ive done my best to preserve wylls canon temperament here#just give the circumstances more teeeth#bg3#baldurs gate 3#wyll ravengard#mizora#ulder ravengard
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summary: you were way too drunk last night and said some funny things...so, of course, steve had no other option but take you to his place to take care of you. :)
read part 1 here
˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷
Your head hurts.
Everything feels a little weird, in fact, but especially your head, spinning and throbbing and, when you try to pry your eyes open, the sudden harsh light streaming into the room feels like it's physically boring straight through your brain.
"Fuck," you whimper pitifully, eyes squeezing shut once more. Your ears are ringing, there's a coppery film lining the inside of your mouth and, for a terrible second, your stomach churns dangerously. "Fuck."
Someone hums somewhere near your right ear. A low, gravelly, vaguely amused sort of hum. There is absolutely nothing and no one alive on this green earth that would hum in that particular fashion except your best friend.
You peel your eyelids apart with great difficulty. When you tilt your head to the right, you see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with a soft look on his face.
Naturally, you proceed to freak the fuck out.
"Jesus Christ," you cry, scrambling backwards until you feel the back of your head slam against the headboard with a resounding thud. The dull throb in the back of your skull intensifies, and you have to fight back the urge to throw up. "Ow! Shit, I—What—what happened? Why are you in my—"
Hold on a second...this is not your room.
You cast an anxious, furtive glance around the unfamiliar setting of Steve Harrington's guest room. Panic floods your veins and has your heart hammering in your chest when you notice that you're clad in only one of his shirts and sweatpants that definitely don't belong to you.
Oh, Dear Lord.
Did something happen last night that you can't remember? Did something — oh, God, no.
Steve raises his eyebrows at you as though he can read your mind. "Relax. Nothing happened, relax, come back down," he coos gently, placing a placating hand on your arm. "And I...I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nancy and Robin, uh...they helped you shower and get changed last night. Not me."
You cover your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan as your memories come trickling back in. You don't remember every little detail from the previous night, but what you do remember is already more than enough to fill you with mortification and regret.
"...you said some pretty interesting things while you were drunk, though."
"Shut up," you mumble, peeking up at him through splayed fingers, "go away."
"Really, though," Steve continues, the teasing glint in his eyes a sure sign that he is very much enjoying your suffering, "who knew you found me so attractive?"
"Oh, Jesus," you mutter, groaning as you slide down to hide underneath the comforter, "where are my clothes? I want to leave now."
Steve snickers but makes no move to get up from his perch on the bed. You can hear the rustling of fabric, like he's adjusting his position as he waits for you to come out from under the blanket. "Clothes are in the wash, sorry," he says, sounding very much not sorry at all. "You, um, thought it was a good idea to lie down on the grass last night."
"Kill me now."
"Nope," he chirps, quite cheerfully so, "can't do that, because then who would watch Back to the Future with me tonight?"
You part the comforter just enough to peer up at him from beneath the thick layer of blanket.
"'Back to the Future'?" you echo, trying to ignore the fact that you feel a little lightheaded when Steve smiles down at you.
He looks nice. He always does, but even more so now for some reason — you're guessing it has something to do with the fact that you just woke up and haven't had the time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing him up close yet.
"Mmhmm. You up for it?"
"I'm pretty sure that my head is literally going to explode any time now."
It's really not that bad anymore, but Steve doesn't need to know that, does he?
He nods seriously in agreement. "Right, because you drank way more than you should've last night. Might have mentioned something about rules and...mhmm, what was it? Oh, yes, dying if I didn't let you touch my hair…?"
"No, I didn't."
"You really did," he tells you, leaning back on the heels of his palms, "but don't worry, it was cute."
"I am very much worried," you say miserably.
Steve lets out a quiet sigh and leans forward again, hands reaching out to tug the blanket down far enough to uncover your face completely. "Come on," he says, "do you need anything? Aspirin, maybe? Food? Water?"
You consider his offer, taking the time to mull it over while you avoid his gaze.
"Why did you bring me home with you?" you ask, curious despite yourself. "Why didn't you just take me home?"
"You, uh...really didn't want me to. Pretty much refused to let go of me all night."
"Steve."
"No, really!" he insists, holding both hands up in surrender. "It was like trying to pry a koala off a tree. You even asked—"
You let out a helpless moan of protest and turn away from him as much as you can, hiding your face in the pillow. Steve laughs, clearly delighted by the fact that he's managed to thoroughly embarrass you in less than ten minutes.
"You asked me if I—"
"I don't wanna know!"
"—would sleep in your bed with you."
"Nope," you whisper, your voice coming out a little garbled due to the way you've pressed your face into the pillows, "don't wanna hear it. Shut up, Steve, oh my God. Please."
"It was very adorable."
"I was drunk."
"Still. Cute."
You prop your head up on your elbow so that you can see him a little better, keeping the blanket held tightly around your shoulders as you do. "Sorry I called you. I don't even remember doing it, Tina just told me to and…sorry."
Steve looks down at his lap, shifting a little uncomfortably on the bed.
"I don't mind," he says, lifting his gaze up to meet yours briefly. "You said you missed me. At the party."
A dry, humorless chuckle leaves you and you cringe when the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through your forehead. "Ow. Of course you would remember that," you say, cheeks heating up.
"Do you...remember everything?"
You blink, momentarily confused by the sudden change in conversation. "Everything?" you ask, more to buy yourself some time than anything else.
"You, um..." Steve trails off, clearly unsure of how to broach the topic with you, "you said I made you feel…stuff inside. That you felt stuff. Or something like that. Do you...remember saying that?"
You can practically feel all the color draining out of your face, leaving behind a blank canvas that hides none of your inner panic.
"Uh...no, no, I don't. Do you have a...I need to, um, use your bathroom, like, right now, if you don't mind."
Steve blinks. "Oh, okay. Sure. I bought you a toothbrush earlier, by the way. It's in the medicine cabinet if...if you want."
"Yep," you say, climbing out from under the blanket with as much dignity as you can muster (which is very little), "yep, okay, thanks. I'm...gonna go do that. Now. Okay, bye."
You spend a good five minutes inside the bathroom splashing water in your face while silently wishing for death to come claim you sooner rather than later. Then, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush Steve left out for you — which is totally not cute, it's not cute, why did he do that, ugh, damn him — before venturing out into the hall.
"Steve?"
"Kitchen," he calls out from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, "you want pancakes?"
You hesitate.
The idea of staying to have breakfast alone with Steve Harrington seems oddly intimate after last night, a dangerous prospect that will undoubtedly lead to awkward small talk and more teasing. However, he did go out of his way to buy you a toothbrush this morning...
You swallow down the nervousness you feel and pad barefoot down the staircase into the foyer, following the sounds of clinking utensils and soft humming to the kitchen.
Steve looks up from his place at the stove when you appear in the doorway.
"Hey," he greets, giving you a quick once over. "How's your head?"
"Feels like there's a little person in there hitting it repeatedly with a little hammer," you admit, grimacing a little as you come further into the room and sit down at the island. "Thanks, by the way. For helping me out last night. And today. I really am sorry for...um, you know, that."
"'That'?"
You purse your lips and Steve grins.
"Yes, that," you mutter, swiveling your seat from left to right while you watch him attempt to read a recipe on the back of a box of pancake mix. "Drunk me is like, twice as embarrassing as sober me."
"Embarrassing isn't the word I'd use."
"Please," you scoff, "I was pathetic. I could barely walk by myself."
Steve glances back at you. "I didn't think you were pathetic."
You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.
"Okay, maybe a little pathetic," he concedes with a little snort, "but mostly just…sweet."
"Sweet?"
"Yeah, sweet. Don't know if anyone's ever told you that before."
"Sweet," you say again, the headache suddenly no more than an afterthought. "That's how you'd describe me?"
Steve, apparently having given up on making sense out of the instructions on the back of the box, turns around to lean against the counter behind him and studies you with his arms folded loosely over his chest.
"Yes," he says, tilting his head to the side a little. "Not the word you expected me to say?"
There's something about the way he's looking at you. It's warm and piercing all at once, like he can see right through you. It makes it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden, hard for you to do anything but gape at him like a goldfish that's been pulled out of water.
"Uh, I'm...confused."
"Me too," he admits with a little huff of laughter. "I was thinking about what you said."
"About your hair?"
"No, well, yeah, but—" Steve pauses, dragging a hand down his face with a weary sigh. "Look, what you said to me yesterday, about the things I make you feel, I—"
"I said I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize," Steve interrupts, shooting you an unamused look, "I'm trying to say something here, come on, give me a sec."
"Right. Sorry. Go on."
"You're not supposed to apologize for apologizing."
"I'm s—okay, right. Mouth shut."
Steve purses his lips to stifle his amusement at your antics. You fold your arms in front of your chest and keep your gaze fixed firmly on the marble countertop as you wait for him to continue.
"I, uh," he says, pushing himself away from the counter so that he can wander over to the other side of the kitchen, where you sit, "I feel things too, you know. With you."
"Oh."
"Yeah," Steve chuckles, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stops beside you, "'Oh'. Weird, right?"
You'd like to, but can't think of anything clever to say that would serve as a suitable response. You don't think Steve's looking for one, anyway, because he reaches out to tap his fingers lightly on the back of your hand, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.
"S'weird, 'cause I don't know if you meant what you said when you were drunk, or if it was just the alcohol talking, or what."
You shake your head quickly, and then wince because of the way the headache thuds behind your right eye.
"Robin says I'm an idiot and should stop being such a chicken," he continues, with a slight roll of his eyes. "And Eddie says if I don't 'shut up and tell you how I feel soon', he'll do it for me."
You nod, smiling despite your hangover. "Eddie's, uh, got a point, no?"
"Maybe," Steve allows, rubbing absently at the side of his neck.
He lets his hands slide down to the legs of your stool, fingers curling around the metal of each side. You don't quite understand what he's doing until he gives them a light tug, jerking you closer to him without warning.
You let out a little shriek of surprise as you reach up to clutch onto the first solid thing your hands find — his forearms.
"Ah! What—Steve!"
He's got an amused smile on his face, but his eyes are bright and nervous all at once. Steve pushes your stool even closer to him, until your knees knock against his own and he's forced to lean down to keep his eyes on you.
You hold his gaze steadily as he edges closer. "What are you doing?" you murmur, watching his eyes flit downward to track the movement of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your dry lips.
"Not sure yet," Steve hesitates when your lips are a hairsbreadth apart. He watches, half-dazed, half-entranced by the way you stare back at him, unblinking. "But I've got a theory."
"A theory?"
He lowers his head toward yours. You press your hands flat against the hard plane of his chest to steady yourself, fingers splaying over the soft material of his t-shirt as you curl them around the fabric. Steve exhales, and you can feel his breath on your skin, a soft tickle that raises the goosebumps all over your skin.
"Wanna hear it?"
You nod slowly, aware of the way his eyes darken as they trace your face. He's so close that you can make out the fine dusting of freckles and moles that litter his skin, the long fan of his lashes as they flutter to a close. If you moved even slightly, your lips would brush against his.
"What's your…your theory?" you whisper.
You can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he releases his hold on your stool, lifts both hands up to cradle your face instead. He slides the tips of his fingers along the side of your neck, lets his thumb trace your jaw.
"I think," Steve says, and you can tell he's struggling to string two coherent words together when you feel his thumb quiver against your cheekbone. "I think that, uh, you're—Christ, I—"
His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your chin up instinctively, chasing the brief contact. You smirk. "Christ, you...?"
"Shut up," Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "I'm getting to it."
"Are you?" you tease, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, your turn to pull him towards you gently.
Steve goes easily, moving his hand from your face to brace the back of your neck. "I think," he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that I might be in love with you."
It's such an unforeseen, unexpected confession that your heart almost gives out in your chest.
You gape up at him, at his crooked grin, at his rosy cheeks. "You think?"
He blinks and then squints down at you like he can't decide whether he wants to be annoyed at your antics or kiss you. You hope for the latter, but he says, "What're you, a parrot?"
Shrugging, you're unable to keep your lips from quirking into a grin of your own. "Rude."
Steve's head falls forward and he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel his pulse thundering wildly against the hand you've pressed flat against his chest, and it makes you feel a little better about your own pounding heart.
"M'sorry."
You smooth a hand over his shirt and hook a finger under the neckline. "Forgiven," you tell him.
"Good," Steve says, nudging his nose against yours playfully.
You want to say something else, maybe tease him about his hair or something equally as inconsequential, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he leans down and closes the distance between you with a slow, tentative press of his lips to yours.
Now, Steve's mouth is soft and warm, and he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. You shiver when he drags his fingers up the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair so that he can pull you closer yet.
You only pull back when the need to breathe becomes too urgent, giggling at the little noise of protest he lets out as you do. But Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he pulls you back in almost immediately, the movement so abrupt that you nearly topple backwards off the stool.
"Steve—I..." you manage to say, between your giggles and the heated press of his lips against yours. "I still...need to breathe, mister."
He huffs out a little laugh against the side of your neck, nips at the sensitive skin in retaliation. You squeal in delight and jab him playfully in the stomach, laughing as he recoils in mock agony.
"Stop laughing," Steve complains, the warmth of his own laughter tickling the underside of your chin when he nuzzles his nose into your neck once more, "come on, you're ruining the moment."
"Wait," you breathe, right before his lips meet yours again, "so...no pancakes, then?"
He drops his forehead against your shoulder and shakes with quiet laughter."You," Steve mumbles into the side of your neck, "are something else, you know that?"
You grin. "Apparently, you like that. Love that...no?"
You can feel him smile, the stretch of his lips curving against the skin of your shoulder.
"Apparently...yeah, I do. I do."
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve x you#steve x reader#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagine#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington one-shot#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington headcanons#steve harrington hcs#steve harrington hc#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington dialogue#steve harrington fluff
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