#an hour is NOT ENOUGH to say everything i need to get out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

certifiedyapperx · 1 day

Text

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

827 notes · View notes

kjdkive · 3 days

Text

a nice surprise - l.jn

warnings: smut, nasty, fluffy, will make you feel single even if you're not, grammar mistakes

a's/n: thinking of making a part two cause this type of jeno is making me feel crazzy. also, part two?

you shouldn't be really doing this, grabbing the key of his apartment jeno told you the location of in case of an emergency, but this is a real emergency and he isn't answering your texts, neither caring about the fact that you're ovulating and going crazy just at the thought of his touch. well, it's not like you have never been to his place alone, you've been here more times than you'd like to admit. but right now, you needed him like you needed oxygen. you don't think he will be angry, or will he? no, i mean, how could he say no to a horny-you in the middle of his living room?

"i guess i'll make myself comfortable." you layed on the couch and turned on the tv, played a random movie but you couldn't pay attention, you were just only thinking of jeno.

40 minutes have passed and there's still not any signs of him, not even a reply to your text you sent him three hours ago. all of a sudden, you hear the locks of the door make sounds and you prepare yourself for maybe the best, maybe the worst. who knows?

you watch the man you've been waiting for almost an hour now not notice you, he seemed stressed... maybe that's why he was not replying and just needed to be alone... did you fuck up? he dropped his backpack to the floor and took off his shoes and shirt, leaving himself with just the gray sweatpants he was wearing. three words: holy jesus fuck.

"jesus." he said, getting shocked from the fact he hadn't see you there. "what are you doing here?"

"hi, sorry, i grabbed the secret key you told me about and let myself in. i don't know, you weren't replying to my texts and i wanted to see you."

"you wanted to see me..." he asks smiling as he sits down beside you "or to fuck me?" he grabs you by the waist and sits you down on his lap.

"mmm, what is the correct answer to that right now?" you caress his hair and smile at him too. "is everything okay? i know letting myself in was weird but when you got here i noticed something was off."

"aw, you worry about me, maybe you will get some."

"oh my god, are my tactics working?" you ask, laughing.

he kisses you as he grabs your face to have the control on the kiss. it's soft and not too short.

"nothing to worry about, baby." he moves you again so both of your legs are on his sides. "i'm struggling to understand a class and i'm not having enough time to study because of my job, so yeah, it's just the normal stress of everyday."

you give him a peck on the lips and cup his face with both of your hands and you just give him a soft look, you truly did not want him to stress out, he's the smartest, hard-working boy you know out there, he deserves a 100% scholarship and everything paid, not this.

"you're really smart, though. like you make me feel really dumb sometimes when you start speaking engineer nerd lingo, it's also really hot." he giggles and you scratch his hair softly while still looking at him, you just feel his hand caress your lower back and sometimes your legs. "besides, hard work pays off and you know that. your job will let you grow on your career and well, we all need a major. just know that this stress will not last forever." you give him a kiss again and another one on his nose.

"wow, you really will say all that to get some dick." he tells you and you smack his bare chest.

"fuck you."

"yeah, you're really trying." he laughs and stops to stare at his hands touching your legs, then your butt and at the end your waist. you get startled when he pushes you towards him lightly. and he kisses you, fervently, the way you've been wanting to get kissed all day. the "problem" right now is that he has never kissed you this passionately. the way his lips move against yours is making you feel something you've never felt before, not with him nor any men you've ever been with.

"thank you, princess." he tells you. "you know i'm just joking, i do really appreciate your words and support." his eyes were shining as he looked at you. "and honestly, you being here was a nice surprise."

"it was?" you ask him as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and you grab his hand. he just kept staring at you, making it seem like he was admiring every single detail of your face.

"mhm." and you just stayed there, looking at each other. you were still holding his left hand that was placed on your face and gave it a little kiss. as he sees you doing that, he doesn't let go of your hand and just softly gets your hand to his mouth for him to kiss it. "kiss me, y/n."

and you do what he tells you to. you kiss him with the same passion he had just kissed you with a few seconds ago. he introduces his tongue into your mouth, playing with yours. it's getting more desperate second after second, his hands that were placed on your waist were now going down to your butt to grab it and force you to grind on him, feeling him very close as you were wearing a dress so he had easy access. one of your hands stayed on his shoulder and your other hand slowly traced a line down his abs so you can grab the hem of his sweatpants.

he kept guiding your hips with his hands and stopped kissing your mouth to move to your neck, giving wet and sloppy kisses on it as he grabbed your hair and tugged it down to give himself more space to kiss, suck and lick.

"come on, baby, keep grinding on me." jeno whispers on your ear. "you're making me feel so good, princess. look so beautiful, so pretty."

his praise was just the little help you needed to moan loudly on his ear and

"that's it, baby, do you feel me? do you feel my hard cock?"

"yes, jeno, i feel it." you moan.

"just for you, princess, only for you, always for you."

you tug jeno's hair as you moan on his ear, making him understand you had just came with the way your legs were shaking. you think you're in for a long ride tonight.

469 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 3 days

Text

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hurt/comfort

220 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 2 days

Note

I can't get priest!Soap out of my mind. 😮‍💨 This charming fella running a catholic church in a small town meeting Nun when she volunteers for the church clean up and Soap feels the absolute need for a few hail Marys when she tries to take a break from the heat in a backroom by lifting up the skirt to get a little airflow.

The Priest meets a nun at a bar, or more specifically at a prayer bar.

You kneel with your head bowed, eyes closed and lips pressed to your clasped hands, a rosary dangling from your fingers. The light that streams in through the stained glass casts devoted shadows over your face, and Soap has never seen a vision like you. You tip your head up your eyes lifting to the very glass that shines its rainbow on you, and he wants nothing more than to ruin you. Some demon must take hold of him, because he is filled with unholy visions of white painting your plush lips and staining those pretty cheeks. Would you flinch as the first drops hit your skin, flutter those sweeping lashes for him? Would you let him drag his thumb over the mess and feed it to you?

The priest crosses himself, and turns his gaze from you. Wretched thing, vision of temptation. You must be some foul seductress sent from God to tempt him. He goes to tend confession, eager to hide the growing hardness between his legs, and you're gone when he returns. Good.

One of the liturgists introduces you the next morning, just here to aid with the school while the usual teacher is on maternity. You extend your hand and he takes it, enjoys the feeling of your skin under his fingers for a moment longer than he's allowed. You tug your hand from his grip and squeeze your fingers into a fist by your side. Something burns in his chest when you won't meet his eyes after, he wants to tell you to look at him, to grab your face and force you to see the heat in his gaze. Instead he tells you:

"It's a pleasure to have you sister, ahm sure the town'll love ya."

And they do. The town is small, barely enough to fill the parish, but the people are good, genuine, godly. They welcome you with open arms, open hearts. You smile at them with all the warmth of the sun, kind in your deeds, gentle with your words to the little ones, polite. Soap is the only one who sees you scowl when the younger men in town make comments about your profession, when they ask you less godly questions. He watches you pray, watches you take your meals in blissful solitude, watches and waits.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned," You recite, devout in everything you do, from the other side of confessional. Anonymity is lost on you, Soap would pick your voice from a thousand, a million, there's nothing you could say he wouldn't hear. You haunt his every waking moment, and his unconscious ones you torment. You are sin on two legs, a beacon of his unholy thoughts. The devil could devour you and find his fill, because you must have been created to sate no one's appetite but his. "My last confession was," you pause, Soap can imagine the sweep of your lashes against your cheeks as you think, can see the dimple of your cheek as you bite it, if he can't know your body he'll know your soul(wicked though it might be), "my last confession was three weeks ago."

Before you came to his church then. Naughty thing. He can think of quite a few ways you could take your penitence. None of which would save your soul, and all of which would doom his own.

"I'm unsure where to begin father," you confess.

"Begin where ever you're comfortable," Soap tells you, though he aches to hear the worst you've done. What mortal sins might you have committed? Did you think of him in the late hours of the night like he did you? Did you ignore the ache between your legs, a good little nun to the core, or would you confess to being the wicked thing he knew you to be?

"I-" hesitance, Soap's fingers curl against his pant leg, again he finds himself wanting to command you (say it, he wants to grab you and shake), "I am ungrateful for my assignment, and too impatient to find joy in it." Soap's breathing stops, but your words continue. "I miss my home, and I find myself- I dislike some of the men in town, I find myself worrying over what they might do, suspecting the worst in them."

"We are all sinners," Soap says, though he's sure you must hear how he struggles for air. Not a wicked thing then, it's not your wickedness shining through, it's purity, piety, all the shining faith you hold in your heart that he wants to drag through the mud. "When did ye join the faith sister?" He asks. You're young, did you have a life before this? Were you-

"This is meant to be anonymous father," you chastise, and Soap presses his hand hard against the stiffness your tone inspires.

"My apologies." Visions filling his head. On your back with your legs spread, your fingers twisting against your lips as you try to hold back your moans. Tears budding in your eyes as his cock fills you, innocent for all the thorns you hide. Afraid of the men in town yet trusting him, the same sort of man that you confess your hatred for. Would you hold your mouth open so he could lick the penance off your tongue? When you take communion will he be able to hide his hard cock under his robes? "Continue."

You take your "Hail Mary" to go. Soap wastes his spend on his fingers. He knows now why masturbation is a sin, every inch of him, every drop of him, belongs inside of you. It's his divine right.

Soap reasons it must be the summer heat getting to him, driving him mad, driving him to sin. It must be. He's never experienced a heat like this before, a summer as aching and terrible. You take notice, ask him: "are you well father?" As if it isn't your doing.

He walks in on you airing your skirt. Your habit held up off your neck with one hand while the other sways the long fabric of your dress to circulate the air. Just a glimpse of your legs makes him want to drop to his knees. The length of your neck as your head tips with a sigh, the sheen of sweat that glows over your skin, makes his mouth water. The devil tempted Jesus with all manner of the flesh, but for Soap it seems only one is needed. Just one nun and a flash of skin before the door had closed and you'd hastily covered yourself.

The Lord have mercy on his soul, he cannot manage six months of this.

#cod x reader #x reader #cod x oc #x oc #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader #priest!soap #nun!reader #f!reader #oc: moon #you can't say nun and expect me to not chew on it

173 notes · View notes

domxmarvel · 3 days

Text

Twst-Finding out their dating a queen

Masterlist

Prompt: Q-Queen

Riddle

“You’ll be working in pairs,you have one week to finish this project” You were assigned with Riddle,in other words you were in for a week of hell. The project was to research any important historical figure,and of course Riddle chose the queen of hearts. You knew there was no changing his mind so you just went with it.

You were on your way to the library when you saw your mother walk through the hall,grabbing Riddle and quickly pulling him out of sight. Covering his mouth,he was gonna be mad but you didn’t care. Peaking over the corner you saw her,she really was here. Riddle grumbled into your hand,you moved it away from his mouth.

“What?”

“What do you mean what,what was that about?” Before you could stop him he peaked over the corner and was shocked “Is I-Is that the”

“Queen of hearts”

“She’s really here” Riddle ran off after her before you could stop him.You knew you shouldn’t but you still ran after him. The second you turned the corner you saw him talking to her,her gaze immediately shifted to you.

“Y/N,my dear I’ve missed you.” Riddle’s face turned to confusion as he looked at you.

“I’ve missed you too. What are you doing here?”

“Wait,hold on. Do you know the queen of hearts?”

“She’s my mother” Riddle looked like he was about to faint or something. “And that’s precisely why I never told you” Riddle was just frozen by your confession that the queen of hearts was your mother.

“Does he usually react like this?”

Malleus

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,my dear” Malleus walked up to you with a bouquet of flowers.

“You didn’t have to,I wasn’t waiting too long” You stood up,taking the flowers. “They’re beautiful” You kissed him. Soon enough you were sitting on the grass,braiding flowers through his hair. You could tell that he wasn’t as focused as usual,like his mind was elsewhere. “Malleus,what’s on your mind?”

“My mother has decided it’s time to find me a bride” He said it like the words burned,and looking at you could make him crumble. You wanted to ask,you knew you shouldn’t but before you could say anything he spoke up again. “She didn’t even give me a chance to tell her about you,she insisted on me marrying this queen from the queendom of roses”

“Malleus,have you talked to this queen?”

“No,and I don’t want to. I want you,and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we’re not separated”

“Malleus,the queen of the queendom of roses is me”

“Why have you never told me this?”

“I just didn’t want you to think of me any differently”

“There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me think of you differently. I love you”

“I love you too” You kissed him before moving back to your original position of you braiding flowers into his hair,which he wouldn’t take out until the fell out and then he’d bring you new fresh flowers.

Leona

“So?”

“I’ll go,but don’t expect me to stay all night”

“I wasn’t planning on staying for more than an hour” He seemed annoyed at just the thought of having to go back home for this royal gathering,it was basically a party but only considered a royal gathering since all the members of the royal family had to be there. Leona clearly didn’t want to go,and especially not alone. “I’ll text you the details,do you have anything to wear to this?”

“Depends are you going for fancy fancy or fancy” He looked at you confused “Like do I wear a full on gown or a simple silk dress?”

“A ballgown,are you insane? We’re gonna be in the middle of the desert,I don’t need you getting a heat stroke. Just wear something you won’t overheat in” He walked off,despite his words you knew he was just worried and didn’t know how to express his worries.

The second you walked in with your arm linked with him all eyes were instantly on you,in seconds you heard whispers. Leona’s brother Falena walked up to you,he was relaxed as he was only focused on his brother. But when he noticed you his expression turned to one of worry. He quickly bowed to you,leaving Leona confused and shocked.

“Your highness I wasn’t expecting you”

“Don’t worry,I won’t be staying too long”

“Please,stay as long as you like. But may I ask how you know my brother?” Leona answered before you could.

“She’s my girlfriend,I’ve told you about her every time you try to set me up with someone” Immediately the whispers got louder. Falena was frozen for a minute not knowing how to reach,but quickly recomposed himself and spoke again.

“Well,have fun” He excused himself,clearly not wanting to get further into this. Leona quickly pulled you out of the ballroom and into an empty hallway.

“Explain”

“Fine,I’m the queen of the moon desert” Moon desert was way bigger than his or rather his brother’s kingdom. “And I didn’t tell you because-”

"Because you’re another person in my life I’m inferior too?”

“No,because you treated me like a normal person. You weren’t scared to say things to my face and didn’t turn into a whole different person when I’m around. You’re the only person I can be myself around,you’re real” You cupped his face,forcing him to look at you,he looked like he was about to cry. You pulled him closer to you,his grip on you was tight. “Do you wanna leave?” You felt him nod against your neck.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x reader #riddle rosehearts #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar

361 notes · View notes

lunajay33 · 22 hours

Text

Migraine🕷️

Summary: You get frequent migraines but they’ve been mia since the apocalypse but even since you got to the farm they’ve returned but you didn’t wanna bother anyone until Daryl finds you balled up on the floor in pain

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Request by @avrmee

•Masterlist•

Soul crushing migranes were always a struggle to deal with before the world ended, but there was ways to try and relieve them, medicine, piercings, acupuncture but now that it’s been about a year and there was no more medicine or anything really the migraines came back and almost stronger than before

They’d come on when the heat was high and the sun was near blinding, triggering what ever it was in your head to cause crippling pain that no matter how much pressure you applied to your eyes or the amount of water you drank it didn’t matter, but in this world you couldn’t afford to take a day off especially with all the work the others were putting into the prison it was only fair you pull your weight even through the pain

Walking out of prison, opening the door to the blinding white light that was the Georgia sun stung just hoping it didn’t flair up another episode, walking out to the court yard where Daryl was tinkering on his bike you sat next to him

“I missed you this morning” you said leaning your head against his shoulder as he used a wrench against…..well you have no clue but you loved watching him work

“Sorry ya know I’m an early riser plus ya’ve been sleeping lot longer now, ya okay?”

You didn’t wanna worry him and tell him that after these long days of over exerting yourself in the heat that the pain in your head kept you awake late into the night causing you to wake up later than everyone else

“Oh yeah I’m fine, just tired is all, plus I got a beautiful sight next to me at night it’s hard to fall asleep” you laughed poking his side making him gruff out a laugh

“Well I have to go work on the crowd of walkers around the fence, if you need me I’ll be there” I said leaving his side walking down to the entrance gate, using a pole to take down as many walkers as you could working your way down the fence, working for hours when you felt an aura around your head, the groans and snaps of jaws became louder and overwhelming, your knees became weak, you became nauseous as your vision became blurred and specked with black dots, all topped off by the painful pressure in your head

Losing control you dropped to the gravel clutching your head in your hands, knees tucked up to your chest, whining from the pain, this is one of the worst it’s ever been, in the distance you could hear your name being yelled but everything was so overwhelming you couldn’t even process it until the screams got closer

“Y/n baby what’s wrong” Daryl asked holding your body close to his, your head in his lap as he rubbed your back

“It…….it hurts so much” you whined as you clutched your head more wishing for this pain to fade

He just held you for what felt like half an hour trying to comfort me, the walkers noises started to dwindle someone must have came down with Daryl to take them out, you huffed out a breath as the pain subsided a bit giving you enough strength to sit up, seeing his worried expression

“What happened?” He asked brushing my disheveled hair back

“I get this awful migraines, I didn’t wanna say anything and use it as an excuse but they keep me up at night but sometimes they get so bad, like this and I don’t know how to stop them”

“Darlin ya should have said something, we’d understand, I could’ve tried to help ya at night”

“I know how hard you work all day you need your sleep”

“But if yer feeling sick yer more important, promise me you’ll let me help ya”

You but your lip hesitant not wanting to be a burden

“Y/n” he said sternly

“Okay I promise”

“Good, ya know yer damn stubborn”

“You love me” you said smiling

“Yer lucky I do”

136 notes · View notes

wolven91 · 2 days

Text

Introducing; The Hyenids

Warren rubbed at his wrists.

Despite being out of the cuffs for over an hour now, he could still feel them compressing his wrists until the bones grinded against one another. When the draconian merchant, or rather kidnapper and slaver, had turned on the bright lights and blinded him, he’d expected his torture to continue.

The young man still remembered the words that made his blood run cold.

“We’ll take ‘im.” Declared the looming shadow that had the comparatively tiny human shrinking away, despite his arms still being latched to the wall of the merchant’s vessel.

But that was an hour ago and his new ‘owner’ had appeared to collect their purchase.

It was a towering hunched creature, with a dark brown mohawk that ran from the top of it’s head, up and over the hunch before disappearing beneath it’s armour. It grinned wickedly with dangerous looking fangs. To Warren’s eyes, it’s body was a sea of scars and overdeveloped muscle. He took a guess that she was female based on the cleavage, but she looked as if she could tear a book in half with ease.

She grabbed ahold of his elbow and roughly led him away, a whimper escaped him.

This thing was massive, easily ten feet tall and all claws, teeth and muscle. At least the merchant had left him alone. What did this thing want?!

The march was brisk and silent as the grave. Warren focused on his feet, keeping his head low and doing everything he could not to burst into tears and beg them to let him go, to not hurt him. To just leave him alone.

The others had horror stories that they told one another when it was quiet and they were supposed to be asleep. Warren didn’t have any to add, he was a ‘new’ acquisition, was what the draconian had said. They’d taken him from a market place. One moment of needing to step away from the crowd and large, scaled hands had grabbed him.

“Boss!” Shouted a new voice, a brief glance upwards and Warren saw a new creature, similar in appearance to his current captor, but different enough to tell them apart.

“Since when we slavers? The crew ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this! Boss, *I* ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this.” Urged the newcomer, obviously pointing a clawed, meaty finger as Warren. He just kept his head down, the less they knew he was there, the less likely something bad would happen to him.

“We ain’t slavers.” The one holding warren retorted, before releasing the smaller human with a small shove forwards that felt like freight train had just tapped him. Warren stumbled forward into the oversized hands of the newest arrival, who just held him in place.

“I’ll get us away, n’ send a signal to the clan, n’ track the tracer I’ve dumped on their ship. Ain’t nobody ‘round ‘ere gonna’ be able to afford the rest of ‘em. We got a good few weeks to raid that asshole…” Explained the large canine-like creature. They weren’t canids, not by a long shot, but that was the only specie that they even remotely resembled. The one now holding Warren grunted with a nod, satisfied with the leader’s words.

“And get this’un somethin’ t’ eat. Damn thing’s gonna’ turn inside out by the looks of ‘im.” She ordered, jabbing a finger warren’s way.

Without warning or any say in the matter, Warren was bodily lifted and thrown over the shoulder of the newcomer and carried away as the, seemingly, leader of the crew closed up the ramp and marched off before the human lost sight of her.

Shortly afterwards, he was brought into what could have only been a canteen. It was messy, old food stains had long since dried and were flaking off the walls and floor. The whole room was alive with similar looking creatures. Some wore armour, others; jumpsuits, some wore nothing at all. It was only because of this, Warren mentally realised that he may have been off on his guess of genders with these creatures.

They all sported chests that would make any man blush, but when his eyes naturally were drawn down the ‘nude’ creatures, he found that every one also sported significant endowments between their legs too. The whole room’s eyes were on him, the lights over head played with their gaze, some of their pupil turning reflective as they stared at him.

“’Ey! We ain’t slavin’! The boss has gone mad if their thinkin’ we’re gonna’ accept this!” Called one, which got the crowd to murmur and agree, their large heads bobbing in agreement. Warren could only glance around, petrified at the room full of at least thirty or forty dangerous looking creatures. Spikes and piercings adorned them. Some had weapons in their hands, from crude clubs to sharpened blades. They all had the posture of those who weren’t afraid. Neither for themselves nor to get what they wanted.

Raiders? Marauders? Although, based off what he’d heard, Warren couldn’t confidently pin ‘slaver’ to them. The one carrying him shouted back to the room, rather than addressing the one that spoke.

“We ain’t slavers! This un’ was all we could get our hands on.” She jostled the young man roughly as she spoke, punctuating her words. “The clan are comin’ to free the others by the tracker Boss snuck on the slaver’s ship.” She explained as she made her way to the far end of the canteen although Warren couldn’t see where she was going. He lay there, draped over her shoulder, his arms laying against the inch thick fur that was surprising soft, even with the diamond hard muscles that rippled underneath.

“So what that’un?” Shouted another voice on the other side of the room to the original that spoke. The one that carried him grunted.

“Hungry. Is wha’ he is. Get ‘im some food!” She demanded before Warren was once more lifted and brought down, placed on the floor at the feet of all these strange creatures. The one that carried him turned away and began to leave, Warren wanted to sprint after her… him? Them. Instead he remained rooted to the spot until they had left and the whole hall turned in unison at him.

He came very close to pissing himself in fear at the sight of an entire pack of giant bipedal hyenas all staring at him, some licking their chops with lines of spittle dangling down...

== 0 ==

Twenty minutes later, Warren had the fattest, largest steak he had ever seen sat on a large flat piece of metal still sizzling in front of him. It was easily an inch thick and wider than his whole torso. The idea he could eat all of this was a joke, but his growling stomach promised a good attempt.

The crew found it hilarious that he wouldn’t just pick up the meat and eat it, but one rather friendly Hyenid, as he found out what they were called, had taken out a gigantic bowie knife from their belt and sliced it into much smaller chunks. His fingers were greasy with fats, oils, salts and herbs that the chef had cooked it in. It tasted like the best steak Warren had ever eaten. Whether that was from his hunger or their skill, he didn’t care.

“So, you can’t smell?” Asked one, reaching over to touch Warren’s face and nose, only to have the same bowie knife that had cut his steak to appear, blade pointed towards the speaker, right between her fingers. The overprotective Hyenid shoved the knife towards the hand which had the speaker retract their hand, or risk the webbing between their fingers get sliced open.

“He eats first.” The wielder of the knife grumbled before shaking the bench Warren was sat on as she heavily sat down. They scooted forwards until their massive legs were touching his hips and their body was only inches away from his shoulder. He could feel her fur tickling him.

Warren chewed quickly and swallowed.

“I can smell, just not to the same degree as you guys… or many species.” He admitted, each of the creatures, still crowding him, but hanging on his every word.

“He’s tiny.” Whispered one, far too loudly.

“Is he one of the crew?” Asked another.

“What’s ‘is species called again?”

“I’m a hu-.”

“A ‘ooman!” Shouted one near to his back, obviously having heard him the first time, but talking over him now.

The crowd ‘aahed’ . It was weird being the centre of attention, and whilst they obviously had no personal boundaries, what with the overprotective Hyenid leaning forward and very obviously sniffing the young man, they weren’t the worst set of aliens he’d met before.

Being picked up like a sack of potatoes and having no manners was certainly not a deal breaker.

“Ey! Question!” Called another, Warren having long since given up trying to figure out names.

“What?” Called another.

“Where’s he sleepin’ tonight?”

The room went suddenly quiet, only broken by the loud anxious gulp as Warren swallowed a half-chewed chunk of meat and broke into a nervous sweat, now that all eyes were on him again.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #hyena #hyenid #hermaphrodite

79 notes · View notes

hergrandplan · 2 days

Text

Wille Month 2024 (@youngroyals-events), Day 1: Sandwich

These days, their love lies in the simple things – going to bed a bit earlier than they have to, just so they can cuddle, Wille’s home in his arms, right where he belongs. It is laughing over coffee, delaying heading to work for as long as they possibly can because they don’t want to miss a single moment with each other. Saturday afternoon cleaning sessions, interrupted by stolen kisses, and late-night reruns of their favorite shows.

The grand gestures are things they have left behind in the days of their youth – they don’t need the big declarations anymore, school anthems rewritten and thrones abdicated. There is no need for it, when love lingers in every single touch.

It’s in the quiet moments, the whispered ‘I love yous’, that Wille feels his heart almost combust with overflowing love.

And today, it’s in Simon showing up to his work unannounced. It’s almost scary, the way Simon knows exactly what Wille needs even when he hasn’t said a thing.

Wille’s morning consists of an endless string of meetings, each more awful than the last. It doesn’t help that his boss is away this week, having handed all his unfinished tasks for Wille to deal with, as if Wille doesn’t have enough to do already. It fills his stomach with dread, the amount of unanswered e-mails in his inbox that he has to do something with, even if he has no idea what.

By 11 am, Wille is drained, and has no idea how he’ll get through the next 6 hours. On top of that, there’s a message from Simon on his phone sent about an hour ago that he hasn’t even opened yet.

A few minutes past noon, there’s a soft knock on his door.

Wille has no time to deal with any of his colleagues right now – barely has time to think, but he says “come in” anyways, because maybe it’s urgent. Everything always feels urgent, somehow.

But instead of Myriam from accounting asking a question about the budget, or Ron coming in with more reports he has to sign off on, it’s Simon, the love of his life, standing in the doorway to his office. Smiling and curls tousled by the wind.

Relief floods through his body immediately – even just seeing him is enough to ease the pressure on his chest a bit.

Simon makes his way over to Wille and wraps his arms around him, nudging his chin up to kiss him, soft and tender. Wille clutches the fabric of his shirt tight, pressing his face against Simon’s sternum, but it isn’t until Simon places a kiss to the crown on his head that Wille feels like he can actually breathe again.

“Hey,” Simon says then. Wille hears the smile in his voice, feels how Simon’s arms tighten around him just a little, the press of his chin on his head. They hold each other like that – Wille, sat on his desk chair, Simon standing upright – for a few minutes, until Simon moves away a little so he can look at Wille. He places his hand on Wille’s cheek, and Wille leans into his touch immediately. He takes another deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” Wille asks, now gazing up at Simon. And he’s so beautiful, Wille still doesn’t know how he ever got this lucky.

Simon pulls away a bit, but keeps one arm wrapped around Wille’s frame while his other reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a tiny parcel, wrapped in a purple napkin.

“I figured, since you didn’t answer my texts, that you were either busy or stressed, and that you probably figured you didn’t have time for lunch, and so – I brought you lunch.”

Simon sits down on his lap as Wille takes the package from him and unwraps it to find a sandwich. Wille can’t help but chuckle as he takes a grateful bite. Simon knows him well – Wille hadn’t even thought about lunch yet, let alone if he was going to have it or not. He lets out a satisfied sigh at the taste of hummus and cucumber and cheese, with a little bit of hot sauce – just how Wille likes it.

The sandwich isn’t quite a surprise. Sandwiches are quick and easy, especially when the man you love has gone out of his way to give it to you because he knows you wouldn’t have eaten anything otherwise. But it’s also a small declaration of his love for Wille, an I care about you. By not answering his texts, Simon somehow figured out that Wille needed him, and here he was now, fingers playing with his hair as Wille enjoys this rare moment of peace and quiet in the middle of a busy work day.

“I love you,” Wille says, once he’s finished the sandwich.

“You better, I saved you from starvation,” Simon responds, smirking. Then his smile softens, and he presses his lips against Wille’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Wille lays his head on Simon’s shoulder again, brings his arms up to hold him, just for one moment longer until Simon has to go. At least his thoughts have quieted now, and even his mailbox doesn’t seem as daunting. He’s not sure if it’s the food or the simply Simon’s presence, but that doesn’t really matter.

Simon stays just a bit longer than necessary, just until Wille manages to clean up his inbox and knows that he’ll make it through the day without a panic attack. When he leaves, he takes a cookie out of his pocket and puts it on Wille’s desk. “For when you get peckish at 4,” he says.

And then, with one last final kiss goodbye, he’s out the door again.

Will doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

72 notes · View notes

omitea · 5 hours

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍 . . .

(.𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍.) the fine, light rain that falls from a clear sky at sunset or in the early hours of night; evening serenity

. ft. g. satoru x fem! reader

. content. a peaceful evening with gojo satoru, along with the sound of rain pouring. 1.3k words, fluff, domesticity, lovesick gojo, a pinch of suggestiveness and angst, but pure fluffinesses for the heart. not rlly proofread.

. note. this took so long, but its what yall voted for so it better not flop!! and here @steleir & @satorisoup <3

the faint sound of droplets pattered against the large window of your bedroom, quickly racing downwards as others soon came to follow. the humid air outside created a layer of fogginess on the surface– only for it to be washed away once another droplet falls yet again.

it was almost comparable to the man laying on your lap; eyes closed while tufts of white strands are entangled between your delicate fingers. in times where things go down a rougher path, he still finds a way to make the better out of them. it does nothing but make you proud to call him yours.

a soft yawn makes you snap out of your thoughts, causing you to halt your fingers from grazing its nails on his scalp. his eyes were puffy, laced with sleep and a small trail of a dried tear leading toward his ear. he looked so peaceful, rubbing away the tiredness from his face. your fingers found their way to the back of his neck– taking notes on how the hair has started to grow yet again.

satoru heaves out a satisfied sigh before joining your figure that’s resting against the headboard. your legs feel slightly numb from having him sleep on them, but yet that feeling gets overpowered by the lingering presence of his warm body that was once laying there. you feel a lanky arm being draped around you, tugging you closer. the warmth makes you bask in the comfort of it all and you subconsciously snuggle deeper in his chest.

he smells like the sugary coffee he has during the days, a dash of his expensive shampoo and the musky smell of his body wash. the one he swears he hates– but yet uses it on the daily for you. you told him once that it made you feel cozy, as if you’re sitting in front of a fireplace in a wooden cabin far in the woods. he’d do anything you find comfort in.

“did you sleep well?” you hum, feeling his breath tickling your skin before a chaste kiss is pressed against your forehead. satoru huffed out a sound you could make out as an airy laugh. “oh, you don’t wanna know.”

you snorted, “really?”, while raising your eyebrows. a frown was etched on his face the moment you pinched his rosy cheeks. “you’re snoring tells me everything i need to know, you big baby.’’

a look of sheer horror and a pout following after, but you were quick to sweep in and kiss the corner of his lips. sweet, yet chapped– and dare you say there was a small spot of drool on his chin. you placed your hand on his jaw, caressing the stubbled skin. the feeling of your hands made him feel tingly. the same way whenever your nails would trace the red scars littered on his back. adding reminders to the fact that you trust him so deeply with your all; your mind, your body and most importantly, your heart.

he treasures it so willingly, afraid it might break if he’s not careful enough. like those porcelain trinkets he gifted you when he came back after being away for a long time you dreaded too much. he knows you’re very much capable of handling certain things on your own– but he can’t stand there while you carry all sorts of burdens on your shoulders.

he melts into your touch, letting his mind wander freely as his lips twitch into a dopey smile. this makes the dimples appear– causing deep dents into his skin. your tongue itches to form words; to ask him what it is that he’s thinking about. a part of you wants to be selfish and know all his thoughts, but you decide to stay curious. although the lovesick expression says more than words can do.

“i wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispered against your skin– voice slightly muffled. you could feel his heart picking up its speed, “just the two of us and the rain…”

you straightened your back, sitting up fully now. satoru didn’t voice things like these very often. “hey…what brought this up, hmm?” you couldn’t help but question. the hand that was once on his jaw traveled to his lap– toying with his larger and colder hands.

the rain that was now pouring harder, almost drowned out his voice. a small, “nothing,” leaving his throat. a simple white lie as that may have some people discarding it like a receipt that will never be used, but not you. you’ve known him for way too long. as cliche as this sounds, you know him like the back of your hand.

his eyes faltered to the side, your gaze feeling heavy on his form. a single squeeze on his thigh made his eyes shift– a shining blue far from comparable with the crystalline droplets. although with glossy layers of tears.

ah, you thought. it’s the one thing that keeps him up on some nights. the ones where he seeks for your embrace, to engulf him fully as your sleepy voice lulls him back to sleep. “satoru, you’re not going anywhere,’’ you sighed deeply, “you’re the strongest, remember” at that, he tiredly smiles– placing his hands on your hips and giving them a slight squeeze. the encouraging smile you give tells him just what he needs to hear; that even the strongest can fear too.

he dips his head to kiss your nose, your cheeks and then your lips. they still have that lingering taste of the honeyed ginger tea you drank out of your favorite mug. it sits on your nightstand– having gone cold along with the chilly breeze that weeps from under your bedroom door. the kiss is lazily executed, but it feels like home. he still makes you feel fuzzy inside– just like you remember seeing him for the first time in highschool. you bask in this moment of peace, of calmness– even if it’s just for a little bit. there’s not a single second you wanna waste, especially when your lifes are constantly on the line with the career that lies in your hands.

a string of spit is the only thing separating your lips when you hastily part away. a hum rumbling in his chest and he places one final kiss on your glossy lips. his head moves towards your chest, hand cupping your breast as he inhales the laundry detergent seeping through the shirt you're wearing. “marry me, please.”

a fit of giggles makes its way out of your throat and he can feel your chest shuddering with each one that erupts,’’we already are, ‘toru,’’ you meekly say. his hand grasps yours before his fingers start fidgeting with the wedding band that adorns your finger. a promise, no– a vow. a vow to you, whom he dedicates his whole heart to. to the person he gets to call his wife, whom he gets to wake up and sleep next to. you chose him, and for that he will be forever grateful.

“well, can’t we get married again or something,’’ he huffed– snuggling deeper into you. “best part was taking that dress of y–”, he was met with a smack at the back of his head, which was enough to keep his mouth shut. he tried to muffle his chuckles in the crook of your neck and you could feel the forming grin against your skin.

satoru was a person that you could love easily. everything was easy with him– and he thought that about you too. not scared to accept him for whom he is, but to also love and adore him for it.

“i love ya’, angel,’’ he murmured, eyes feeling heavy yet again. your nails started scratching his scalp, detangling some of the knots as your fingers weave through. “and i love you too, my pretty princess,’’ you laughed. one final groan could be heard as the room was filled with soft snoring yet again.

everywhere is home with satoru. if there was rain pouring, you’d still find his voice and warmth among the sound and earthy smell surrounding it all.

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

#—sinnie posts ♡#☆ —jjk!#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader

64 notes · View notes

katelynnwrites · 2 days

Text

fortnight | felicitas rauch

warnings: angst, mentions of sex

word count: 573

summary: your time together with feli feels like only a pitiful fortnight now that she’s gone to north carolina

a/n: the fourth installation of my 'the anthology' blurbs series

it seems that time feels different ever since feli left for america.

you can’t blame her. no one here’s to blame. she wasn’t getting any playing time at wolfsburg and she was losing her spot on the national team.

she needed a change and that change included leaving you behind.

you hope she’s okay in north carolina. even though you sure as hell are not.

she’s not here in wolfsburg anymore but you can still feel her fleeting touches and kisses.

the defender used to gift you those, in the dark of night and behind closed doors.

during the day you were nothing more than her teammate but at night…at night you had her moaning your name.

you knew her intimately, just as she knew you.

for each and every time you had her crying out in pleasure, she repayed the favour equally well.

you were with the brunette for months and now as you look back on your time together, you realise it feels as short as a simple fortnight.

two weeks, fourteen days, three hundred thirty six hours.

her absence has felt impossibly longer.

for a while, drowning yourself in extra training sessions worked. it was like a miracle move-on drug.

it was everything you needed but oh so temporary.

your playing is missing its usual finesse and you are beginning to find it harder and harder to sleep.

tossing and turning becomes the new nightly activity.

one night it finally dawns on you.

somewhere along with using each other for sex, you fell in love with felicitas.

and now it’s ruining your life.

you touched her but it was only for a fortnight. she was yours, only for a fortnight.

it wasn’t enough.

seeing the former wolfsburg player in person again is a rarity but it does happen.

she’s managed to become a starter for germany once again and when your country plays her, she’s there.

you’re on the bench because it seems that unlike feli, whose career is soaring like it used to be, yours is slowly but surely falling apart.

the ghost of her touch haunts you relentlessly every second.

all of your wolfsburg teammates miss her and yet you can’t express how much you miss her. not if you want to keep the details of your less than platonic relationship private.

it hurts you more than you care to admit.

you don’t come on at all but you are not surprised.

what’s surprising is that the brunette approaches you after the match, sending a smile your way.

‘hey you. long time no see.’

‘yeah feli.’

you fidget a bit cause she looks impossibly good. she’s got new highlights in her hair and her cheeks have the prettiest blush.

she begins to say more but is distracted by something behind you.

or rather someone waving.

‘oh gosh sorry i hope you don’t mind us catching up another time. that’s my girlfriend and she must be here to surprise me because i didn’t know she was coming today.’

then she’s gone. again.

leaving you standing alone in shock. with an awfully nasty empty feeling in your chest.

desperately, you want to tell her, ‘i love you, it’s ruining my life.’

because it is the truth.

you love her. it’s ruining your life.

you touched her for what feels like a mere fortnight but now she’s no longer yours to touch and you don’t know how to deal with that.

#feli rauch #felicitas rauch #feli rauch x reader #felicitas rauch x reader #feli rauch imagine #felicitas rauch imagine #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #dfb frauen #gerwnt #nc courage #north carolina courage #nwsl #woso blurbs #woso oneshot #'the anthology' blurbs series

107 notes · View notes

hauntedwitch04 · 2 days

Text

Neighbor

Steve Harrington x reader

Words: about 0.8k words

Warnings: smut, possessive!Steve, swearing, kinda voyeurism, not proofreaded

Author’s note: Hi loves! New day new kink, hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

If you like my works, consider to buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 13: Caught masturbation

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

Steve Harrington and you have been neighbors since you were born. When you were younger you spent hours and hours playing in the backyard, and when your parents forced you into the house, you kept playing in your rooms, since your windows were in front of each other. You used to spend hours looking out, imagining adventures and exploits of the older heroes, playing at being big, not knowing that after all, you grow up too fast.

You and Steve remained very good friends until high school, when he decided that you were not popular enough to be seen with him and that he needed to find new, "cooler" friends to really be somebody. This of course had made you feel very bad, but fortunately you had met other people, better than King Steve, who had become your friends, like Robyn, a skinny blond girl who played in the school band and was a real genius as well as being a very good friend. You and Steve didn't even say hello to each other anymore when you walked past each other to go to your rooms Those windows that used to be portals into each other's world were now nothing more than what they really are: cold pieces of glass, allowing each other to peek into the other person's life hoping it would be worse than their own.

Everything had remained that way until this evening.

Steve recently returned from yet another party; he doesn't even know how he managed to get home to tell the truth, since he doesn't even remember getting into the car.

The boy is lying on the bed, still looking at the ceiling and wondering how many drinks he has had, when he realizes that your bedroom window is open, which is not so strange since it is the middle of summer and the muggy heat is unbearable at night, but usually the curtain was always drawn so that no one could see your little piece of heaven.

Steve, confused by alcohol does not realize what he is doing, and so in the dark, he sits on the bed and starts looking at you, trying to figure out what you were doing.

Your room has not changed that much since you were children, but some posters and books now adorn those walls that little you had so insisted on, being your favorite color. The desk is covered with open school books and notes, while on the floor was a pile of clothes, probably dirty, among which Steve could make out some clothing you had worn in the past few days.

The boy's eyes roam all over the room, trying to absorb the details of your life, looking and hoping to recognize deep down the little girl he was in love with as a child. All until he sees you.

You're lying in bed, in semi-darkness, but somehow Steve can see you, wearing a simple tank top and a pair of summer shorts, hoping to fight the heat; but it's not how you're dressed that shocks the boy, but what you're doing.

Your eyes are closed, while your head is resting on the pillow. Your right hand squeezes your right breast, since you are not wearing a bra, from above your shirt, while your left hand is in your shorts. Your mouth is ajar as you let muted moans slip from your lips as you chase your pleasure.

Steve freezes for a second looking at you knowing it is wrong what he is doing, yet he cannot shake his eyes off you. He feels his erection growing in his pants, to the point that it hurts so much that he can no longer avoid touching himself, first from above the fabric, then in desperation, he unzips the zipper of the jeans he is wearing and pulls out his member, beginning to lightly massage it. All this without ever taking his eyes off you, as if you were a magnet.

She watches as your fingers continue to circle your most sensitive spot, faster and faster and hungrier. Your breathing becomes labored and uneven, until a few minutes later you reach orgasm. Slowly your fingers stop moving, and you try to catch your breath. Your eyes are still closed and you can't see in the house in front of you, your neighbor masturbating at the sight of you climax.

Steve also comes to orgasm, a couple of minutes after you do, thus making time to hide well in the shadows, when you open your eyes, looking around as if you have the feeling you are being watched. He watches you settle down for a moment, before getting up to go to the bathroom, and at that moment Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins High School, decides something.

The next orgasm you have will be at his hands.

TAGLIST

@digitalhearts @samanddeansannoyingsis @minkiles @ash04w3 @123345566 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @nightfiress @theyluvtrinity21 @supernatural-lvr @starsval @imaraccoon @CaptainsBaby @titinkaaa @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @aunicornmademedoit @AlohaStitch0626

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #kinktober 2023 #becky's writing

59 notes · View notes

starshideurfics · 1 day

Text

Thirsty Thursday - Mer-May

steddie, omegaverse, mdni🔞, inspired by Emma’s (crybabyao3 on twt) mersteve and pearls

Eddie didn’t believe the kids at first when they said they found a mermaid. Especially after Dustin explained that he didn’t have a tail.

“He said he got it taken away by a sea witch. That she’s helping him find his alpha.”

“And just where is this tailless mermaid anyway?” Eddie asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“We’re hiding him at Hopper’s beach house for now,” Lucas starts.

“Yeah, he’s not exactly dressed for us to bring him out in public,” Max adds with a smirk.

Eddie shakes his head, rubs at his eyes. “Please tell me you don’t have a naked omega sitting in Hopper’s place. He’s gonna freak.”

“That’s why you need to come with us, get him out of there. You’ve gotta bring him to your place,” Dustin says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Eddie wants to argue, but instead he grabs the keys for his van. “Fine. But I need to meet the guys in an hour, Joyce got us a gig down at the Surf Shack.” It’s a big step up from the high school beach parties they usually play, since they’re getting paid in more than shitty beer and enough money for gas.

“Thank you, let’s move!” Mike yells, grabbing Dustin to lead the group out to the parking lot.

The kids yell the whole way, recounting how the found Steve—the mermaid’s name is Steve for chrissakes—wandering the beach, completely unsteady on his feet. Max thought he was drunk, but El was worried he was hurt, so they asked him what was wrong and he spilled everything.

He probably found the best group of 12-year-olds possible, since they believed him.

Reaching Hopper’s beach house, Eddie cuts the engine, doesn’t bother waiting for the kids as he heads inside; they catch up almost instantly anyway.

“Steve! We’re back!” Dustin yells as he walks through the side door behind El, since she’s the one with a key.

“We brought our friend Eddie, he’s got his own place so you won’t need to hide there,” Max adds, right on Dustin’s heels.

Eddie is prepared for nudity as he hears awkward shuffling from down the hall. But that’s not what he gets.

Steve walks into the kitchen covered in pearls. The bits of fabric they’re attached to fit perfectly around his torso, but have been tied to cover his bottom a bit haphazardly.

The pearls must be worth a fortune, what with the size and color, but all of Eddie’s focus is drawn by the man’s beautiful face, flecked with moles, his eyes the rich brown-green of sea kelp.

More importantly, his face lights up with his smile. “Thank you! I don’t want to be any trouble, but I’m so grateful for your help!” At first, his smile is just for the kids. But then he looks up, and his eyes go soft.

When his eyes lock with Eddie’s.

“Hi,” Eddie manages to make his stupid mouth say.

“Hello,” Steve answers, not as dumb, but just as soft. “I’ll be staying with you?”

“Yes!” Dustin answers for him. “Eddie has his own apartment, you’ll be safe there.”

“Okay, shitheads—and El—get on back to whatever you were up to before, I’ll get Steve settled.”

The kids try to protest, but Steve agrees, says he won’t be interesting the rest of the day since he’s tired. It’s true, since he dozes off in the van on the way to Eddie’s. He looks so peaceful it pains Eddie to wake him.

But he does, gently, gets another soft smile as he escorts Steve up to his second-floor apartment.

“I’ve got clothes you can borrow for now, then we can find you something you like. But I’m pretty sure you’d get a citation for indecent exposure if you went out in that again.”

“Oh,” Steve says, sadly looking down at his chest. “I wanted to be wearing it when I found my alpha. My pearls show I am ready to be claimed, that I have my dowry for my mate.”

“Did you harvest them all? That’s a lot of oysters to open, especially for the colors,” Eddie says, unable to hide the awe in his voice.

“No, they’re my pearls,” Steve says, like Eddie should understand more than he does. “Mers lay eggs, and if they aren’t fertilized they become pearls. These are the pearls from my heats.”

Eddie suddenly feels the need to readjust himself. “From your heats,” he repeats softly.

“That’s why they’re for my alpha, to show I’m ready for pups.”

“But your alpha is here, on land?”

“Yes!”

“Then you aren’t going to be laying any more eggs, sweetheart. That’s not how heats work for humans.”

Steve’s hand rests low on his belly, covering the perfect circle of pearls. “I know.”

“And how do you know your alpha is here? You can’t have gotten close enough to scent him.”

“I heard him, playing my heartsong. I hear it every so often, coming from the shore, fast like my heartbeat, like he needs to scream to the world. Like he’s calling for me.”

That really piques Eddie’s interest. “He’s playing on the beach? Is he alone?”

“Not always, but I can still pick him out, that’s how heartsongs work.”

Eddie’s mouth feels too dry, and he swallows hard. “Can you hum any of it? Maybe I’ve heard it before, can help you find him faster.”

Steve smiles, hums a melody Eddie knows all too well. One he based on the songs his mother would sing him when he was little. Without a word, Eddie reaches for his acoustic guitar, easily taking over the melody from Steve, playing on as the omega falls quiet.

When Eddie stops, he looks up to see Steve’s big eyes, tears on his cheeks. “It’s you,” he whispers, reverent as he steps closer, far more sure on his new legs now.

“I guess it is.” Eddie puts down the guitar and pulls Steve close, finally scenting at his neck and feeling like there are new colors in his world as he smells waterlilies and coconut and fresh salt air.

Steve leans in first, kissing his mouth, awkwardly guiding Eddie’s hands to tease at his nipples through the gaps in the pearls. Then he grips Eddie’s hips, pulls their groins together and moans at the feeling of his alpha’s cock pressing against his new, human pussy.

“Alpha, please!” he groans. “Want to feel you.”

Eddie obliges, pulls at the ties over Steve’s ass, lets the fabric fall from between his legs, and carefully traces his fingers along his seam, already wet with slick.

He doesn’t have time to knot Steve. Not if he wants to make it to the gig. So instead, he guides Steve to sit on the couch, Eddie kneeling between his thighs, using his mouth to make his omega come.

————

Steve accompanies Eddie to the gig that night. He’s wearing his clothes: a black band tee and ripped jeans that cover a bite high on his thigh.

Eddie has a single, blue-grey pearl added to the chain around his throat.

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #mermay #stranger things fic

61 notes · View notes

harlowhockeystick · 3 days

Note

22- So High School with Princess and Nolan pleeeeeeeaase 🫶🏻

"you knew what you wanted, and boy you got her" | poetic prompts | warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, chaos, weddings

it was everything they could imagine, even though it was the most stressful day of their life.

the wedding day had finally approached. after almost five years of dating, a year of being engaged, the day arrived. typical wedding day jitters fell upon both parties, the usual last minute thoughts and touch ups, nothing prepared either of them for the massive chaotic crowd that was waiting outside the venue.

even though the bridal party did their best to keep it away from y/n, she knew that the flowers hadn't been delivered, the photographer was an hour late, and the shuttle was also late. as a group they decided to push the wedding back at least an hour to make room for adjustments. but nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop her from getting married today.

not even a nervous groom.

"y/n, i need to talk with you for a second." her maid of honor whispered in her ear. she was about to get in her dress, hair and makeup done and set, ready for pictures when the photographer would arrive. stepping to the side in her silk robe and slippers, she felt her stomach drop. god, what now?

"no bullshit. i know we're all done with that today, but you need to talk to nolan. travis texted me saying he is having a panic attack and won't come out of the bathroom. all of this massive chaos is probably freaking him out too," y/n was handed a tissue when she felt tears well up in her eyes, "no no, no crying, it'll all be okay. i'll go with you?"

"no, i can do it. when the photographer gets here y'all go ahead and take pictures and just wait for me."

walking across the venue and where the guys were getting ready, she knocked on the door and was greeted by travis. she made sure all the guys left before talking to nolan. it was like his soul knew she was there before she spoke. a few seconds before she knocked on the door he felt his breathing steady out.

"nolie it's me, please open the door. nobody else is here, just you and me." she softly spoke. he got up, leaning his forehead against the wooden door with a soft thud.

"it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding," his thick accent present in how he spoke, sniffling after he finished. he heard her giggle and slide her slippers across the wooden floor.

"we've had enough bad luck today, so i think we're gonna be okay." he unlocked the door then leaned against the wall, waiting for her to open it. her heart softened when she opened the door, noticed that he'd been crying a lot with tear tracks down his cheeks. his shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was messy. "oh baby," she placed her hand on his cheek, wiping another tear away.

"'m sorry, princess." he took in a sharp breath before letting out another cry. "i just got really nervous, y'know? i mean what if i'm not a good husband? i don't want you to get sick of me and...and leave."

she tucks a lock of loose hair behind his ear, grabbing a tissue from the counter and wiping his cheeks and nose for him. "if i was gonna get sick of you, i would have left by now." she kisses his forehead softly, "remember when we went on our first date? you were so confident, and it was really hot." nolan chuckled, "and when you came to the shop like ten times that next week? you knew what you wanted, and you got her. you got me, and i'm not going anywhere. i'm gonna be your wife, you're gonna be my husband, and we're gonna have a happily ever after together."

nolan places a hand on her cheek as she spoke, a smile on his lips and this time, happy tears filling his eyes. they share a sweet and emotional kiss, one she hopes to recreate in an hour at the altar. they pull apart and she helps nolan fix his tie and to get rid of some of the tear tracks on his cheeks.

"alright, nothing is stopping me from getting married to you today." nolan laughs with his head thrown back, "i'll see you in an hour," she walks to the door of the groomsmen suite, "i'll be the one in a pretty white dress." nolan kissed her on the cheek.

"i'll be the one waiting for you at the altar, princess."

#j's writing #nolan patrick #princess reader #nolan x princess #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick x reader #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey x reader

44 notes · View notes

honeybcj · 3 days

Note

What’s ur opinion on Trans James Potter?

trans james potter you say? buckle up everyone because i have a lot to say about trans james. he’s soooo dear to me. he’s always on my mind. (honest to god james potter eats away at my mind in the same capacity as barty does i literally have a side blog 👁️👄👁️ peep u all finding out i have another blog……..) anywho! the king of trans james in my most humble opinion belongs to mar ( @messymoony hi love i’m smooching ur noggin ) he writes trans james in a way that makes every nerve in my body feel like it’s on fire while i simultaneously bash my head against a while and sob hysterically because i’ve never loved a man more. i need to protect that man with everything inside me. one thing that i think about a lot is the fact that james is the kind of guy to come out later in his life—his partner is trans, and he’s always been so supportive of the trans community. it’s not until he dives further into the exploration of his own gender identity, after years of being with regulus, when he finally starts putting the pieces together. he’s subtle at first, not really fully expressing himself. he even toys around with different gender expressions and identities whether that be dressing more masc-presenting, getting his first gender-affirming haircut (can confirm he stared at himself in a mirror for half an hour and cried because he felt so good about himself), feeling out they/them pronouns to see if that fits him best, but ultimately he feels most confident in identifying as a man and using he/him pronouns. it’s rocky at first, not because he doesn’t have support. he’s nervous because he’s loved his life one specific way for so long, and there’s a sense of imposter syndrome. it isn’t until one night when he’s spending quality time with reg when he breaks down completely, crying his eyes out because he’s kept his truth hidden for so long. he pours his heart out to reg, softly admitting, “i would prefer it if you use he/him pronouns for me.” reg is all teary-eyed, wrapping james in the tightest hug possible, reassuring him that he is so proud of james for opening up to reg and feeling comfortable enough to be his true, authentic self. to me, it’s really important to see representation for trans people who don’t come out until much later in life. one of my dearest, dearest coworkers always talks about how she wishes her identity was seen more often portrayed in media, and when it comes to james’ character and who he is, it’s so very fitting that he would be the kind of person that doesn’t transition until later in life. (also potentially because my coworker is a james gal as well fjskslla) but overall, trans james potter is my beloved, my dearest and sweetest. i adore him with everything in me.

#han’s asks #james potter #trans james potter

32 notes · View notes

its-my-whump · 1 day

Text

Medwhump may - Day 1

Under anasthesia

@medwhumpmay

Tw: kinda emotional whump, angst, medical whump

"Not a fan." She heard herself mumble. This tiny dimly lighted room was like purgatory and that she could actually see the busy routine of the OR in the periphery of her vision was all the more frightening. Just an open door seperated her from one of her biggest fears. Being helpless and vulnerable, all alone depending on someone else.

"It's all right. We're all here to take care of you. But you need to calm down, please."

The nurse was sweet talking, but it didn't help. Her heartbeat was a hectic jumble on the monitor. At least it wasn't like in the movies and there was no sound, displaying her angst even audible. Her breath was already doing that. It came in stiffled puffs. She was trying everything not to slip into a panic attack.

The tiny sheet was doing nothing to make her comfortable in anyway, laying under it in her birthday suit. She was actually thrembling, yet trying to hide it. Unsucessfully.

The nurse and the doctor were exchanging some kind of non verbal arrangement. She had skipped them talking to her. "What?" Her voice trembling as her hands and feet were.

"We gonna give you some I-don't-care-meds to help you calm down a bit, okay." The voice of the nurse was even more sympathic.

Honestly, she wasn't actually okay with any of this, but she wouldn't say no to some I-don't-care-stuff now, either. Her nod got lost in the thrembling of her body.

Gloved fingers gently pressed down her outstreched arm to keep it from moving, while the syringe was emptied into her IV port.

The nurse put her hand on her shoulder. It was warm and made her feel even more ashamed about her fright all of a sudden.

Even though, it felt like an hour had passed, she definitely still cared. In reality, it was probably not more than 7 minutes. Not much of what the nurse was talking about or asking, reached her attention.

Unfortunately, it didn't feel like the meds had anything to do with it, but only her fear.

Fear of being naked inside a dimly lighted windowless room, depending on the attention and helpfulness of others, while a tube was done her throat and someone was cutting her open. Depending, that someone would really open the oxygen tank and far enough. Depending, that someone would take a look, if her heart was still beating. Depending on someone to use clean material to cut into her skin. Depending, that the scalpel wouldn't seperate any vital parts or poke into some organs. Depending, that the surgeon was sober and well rested. Depending, that they didn't forget any instruments inside her body. Depending, that they would sew her up properly afterwards. Depending, that they would let her wake up again. She definitely still cared a lot.

Because, that was a whole lot of depending on other people, for a girl, that never could depend on anyone but herself.

Apparently nurse and doc were satisfied, with the results of the I-don't-care-stuff, she still wasn't. A quick glaze to the monitor said, her heartbeat had slowed, but was still above 100bpm. She was still thrembling, but she wouldn't mind to be put to sleep, just to get it over with as soon as possible, or even more, just to clock out as soon as possible.

The nurse had said something. Whatever. Another syringe was pushed into the IV. More undeceiferable words. She could hear them, understand, that it were actual words, but her brain was muffed, she still put it on her angst. Cause, she didn't feel any kind of not-caring, still.

"Count backwards from 100, please."

The hell? 100? How long, does that stuff need, till she was finally asleep.

"100." Oh, her tongue was heavy already.

"99." Oh brain's not working.

"98." But a row of numbers can practically count itself, right.

"97." If it will be like falling asleep? Do you know, when you get unconscious?

And she was out like a light.

Part 2 (here)

My masterlist

#medwhump may #day 1: under anasthesia #whump #writing #whump writing #whump community #med whump

31 notes · View notes

abibliophobiaa · 2 hours

Note

One word prompts are so hard for me cause they could go an infinite direction but what about the word Cherry with Steve?

don’t you call him ‘baby’

steve harrington x f!reader. angst with a happy ending. [2k]

——

There’s a cherry red stain on the edge of the grainy photo. The color of your favorite lipstick — the same color still on the collar of his old jean jacket. He'll never get rid of it, he’s decided long ago now. You’re smiling back at him, captured forever in this picture, the sunset behind you, a hand hiking up one side of your flowing dress, the fabric backlit by the orange sky, highlighting the curves of your silhouette. He doesn’t even need the photo to remember the way it feels for his hands to travel the pathway of your side, your hip, the contours of your thighs. And the memories of that day hit him like a freight train all the same, like it was only yesterday.

Your hand is in his as he peels away from the curb at Max and Lucas’ new place in California. Sun streaks across the sky still, his sunglasses perched high on his nose. He feels you squeeze him tighter, thumb stroking lovingly along his knuckles. He turns his head and captures your gaze, your mouth a firm line, eyes round and soft. Sad.

“You okay?” you ask, and he realizes that sadness is for him. Heart practically shatters at that, because you know him deeply — just as you’ve always known over the years without him ever uttering a word.

His lip wobbles, but he doesn’t cry, tries not to at least. Even so, you gather the tear that eventually streams down his face. Thumb it away so tenderly it’s like you’re trying to capture it — to encapsulate this moment. Max is gone, Lucas is starting a new career, Dustin is off to college with El, Will, and Mike. Robin’s getting married soon. And he’s peering at everyone through the window, wishing them well, watching them slip away with the passing of time.

Everything is changing, yet you remain, and though it aches to see his life changing so quickly and suddenly, you’re a constant. The thought alone has him leaning over at a red light and kissing you soundly on the lips, hands in your hair at the back of your head, his cheeks flaming hot when the light turns green and someone slams on the horn behind him.

“Let’s go somewhere,” you muse softly, a little to yourself, head against the doorframe, free hand twirling in the wind out the window, catching sunlight in the palm of your hand. “That sign says there’s a beach up ahead. I want to put my feet in the water.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand, thinking how he can’t wait to marry you one day. “Okay, honey.”

Soon enough you’re both running along the beach with your hands tangled together. You’re spinning. Twirling. Laughing as he turns you round and around on the beach, sand between your toes, sun kissing his skin, blissful words punctuated by lingering kisses. There’s a blanket strewn out nearby you brought along and laid out, shoes discarded, your newest book propped open on its front. Beside that is the camera he brought along for the trip, the same one he rushes away to grab, chest splitting in two at the wide smile that breaks along your face.

You’re perfect. Everything he could ever want and more in a person. Beautiful beyond whatever measure a camera could ever capture you within. The photo slides out and slowly develops. The same photo you hold pinched between your fingertips as you later drive back to your hotel, bringing your lips to the bare corner, leaving a cherry red stain behind.

“Give me your wallet,” you reach an arm out and he slaps the leather within, the picture sliding into an empty slot. “Now you’ll always have me with you.”

Such sweet words — if only you had known.

He’s not sure how it happened. How that one perfect day became a memory. He still remembers the feel of your warm skin after hours on the beach spent kicking up sand, dancing in the waves, falling into fits of laughter as you eventually fell back onto a blanket, hands tangled together as tightly knit as your hearts. Later you’d pulled him down against you in that hotel bed, blocked out the rest of the world, and relished the feel of two souls wound together like one. You whispered forever against his throat as he later curled you against his chest, with the sound of his heartbeat a promise to lull you into sleep.

But things changed. His anxiety after Vecna grew, he buried himself in a job he didn’t even want at his father’s company to run from it. Work became too much — distance between you grew, him on trips that drew him further and further away from Hawkins. He pushed you away, he knew it, you knew it, though neither wanted to admit it out loud. At first you fought about it, about how you wanted forever but forever couldn’t look like this if you wanted it to stand the test of time. And then the apartment grew silent. Screaming matches turned into quiet sobs before bed, when you thought he couldn’t hear you, but he did every time. The distance became a chasm, too far to broach.

Then you left. Packed your things one morning and chose yourself. He understood. Of course he did. Still it didn’t make anything better. Didn’t make his heart hurt any less.

Now he sits in the middle of your — his — bed staring at the photo of you. The box of things he kept of yours through the years stored beneath his bed, even after Eddie suggested he might want to put it away in a closet or something. It’s been six months, six months of not turning over every morning to find you already awake and propped up beside him, wanting the first thing he sees every morning to be your smiling face. Six months of wondering what you’re doing, wondering who you’re talking to, wondering if you’ve moved on.

He gets his answer that night.

Eddie’s shoving Steve along beside him. Clothes cling to sweaty bodies in the packed bar. Robin couldn’t make it, so the two decide on a ‘boy’s night out.’ They’ve not had one in a bit, since Chrissy’s just given birth to their first baby a couple months ago. But she practically pushes him out the door that night, promising her and their new son will be fine, that he deserves a fun night with his friend.

Only it’s far from fun. With July came the hottest weather Hawkins has seen all year. ‘A record breaking high,’ the news stations tout. All Steve knows is his jeans feel tighter than usual, his skirt is stuck to his sweaty back, and the woman he loves is standing at the bar with a man Steve doesn’t recognize.

“Don’t look,” Eddie warns, as though it’s not already too late. As if Steve’s not drawn to you like a magnet, even after all this time. “He could be a friend, or something.”

He could be. But the man is reaching over to rest a hand over your forearm, head bent low, eyes wide, and clearly engaged in whatever story you’re telling him. Steve’s not surprised. It’s one of his favorite things about you: this way you seem to captivate every room you walk into. Like he’s in your orbit, circling around you, pulled in close by your mere aura. Anyone who knows you loves you, he thinks — and they’re lucky for it. He’d been lucky for a time, too.

“Steve, stop torturing yourself,” Eddie says, giving his friend’s shoulder a little wiggle. “Here — let me go grab us some beers. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything hasty.”

Steve shakes his head. What’s he going to do? Scream. Cry. Beg for you to come back. No — instead he watches. Feels his chest ache as you throw your head back in a laugh at something your date must say, hiding your smile against the lip of your glass, suddenly bashful when your eyes flicker up and clash with Steve’s. The drink in your hand falls and shatters and people rush to clean it up. Your date scrambles to find a stack of napkins, dabs at the front of your blouse, the gesture lost to you as you stay staring ahead, held in place by a ghost of your past.

Suddenly, like a light bulb flashing in your mind, you snap back to attention. He watches the bob of your throat on a swallow, the long rise and fall of your chest on your deep inhale and exhale, the forceful smile that curls your lips as you return your focus to your date.

The moment slips away as Eddie returns to the table, glasses in hand.

——

He’s not sure how he ends up here. Standing in your doorway, the ‘exit’ sign at the end of your hall flickering in the night. Your palm splays against the open door, mouth agape, eyes on his face, blinking frantically like you might think he’s an apparition.

“Please don’t tell me he’s your boyfriend.” Please don’t tell me you call him ‘baby.’ He hates himself for the tears that glimmer like pools in his eyes, hates as you reach up to cover his cheek when the first spills down his skin. “Damn it — I had a whole speech and I —” His voice breaks, throat closing around his words. You’re on your toes, face in his collar bone, clinging to him like he’s the very thing keeping you afloat at sea. “I quit my job, I started therapy, I’m not saying it excuses anything but —”

“Come with me,” you whisper, dropping back onto your heels, pajama shorts ruffling around your thighs.

Heat blooms in his belly as your fingers knit with his, dragging you further into an unfamiliar apartment. It’s very you. All your favorite colors and things, movies strewn about the living room floor, the grainy static humming on a television screen. A pot of half-eaten macaroni is left on a stove top, a plant on your kitchen table, books on a little shelf on a corner leading to a hallway. Lived in.

“Sit on the bed,” you demand as he slips inside your bedroom.

The blankets are messy, like you’ve risen from a nap recently. A stuffed animal he won you at a carnival rests beside your pillow, well-loved, as the fur is no longer as fluffy as it once had been. He watches stiffly as you reach down beneath your bed and pull out a shoebox. In your lipstick, you’ve written “Us” and decorated the top of the box with dozens of little stickers accumulated over the years. In awe, his gaze trails your hands as they pluck item after item collected throughout the years together. That first Scoops Ahoy napkin where he wrote his phone number down, that strip of photos at the photo booth at a carnival, your plush toy between your bodies as he kissed you that first time, a shirt of his from high school days that still smelled like him when you breathed deep enough, the little stack of Polaroids with all your memories scattered within. Early dates, holidays, Valentine’s Day, trips out of town with Robin, photos with the kids. Memories frozen in time of a life that feels so long ago — a life he still craves more than anything.

“I never got rid of them,” you mutter thoughtfully, holding up a photo of him napping on a lawn chair at his parent’s house, skin tanned, chest bare, marker scribbles by the kids on his face in the shape of glasses. “He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t dated anyone since…”

“Me neither,” he swallows, inhaling sharply as your forehead rests against his. “I know I can’t…I know I messed up and I can’t take that back. But you deserve the world and I want it to be with me.”

“You’re going to give me the world, Harrington?” You tease, and he can almost hear the laughter in your voice as you reach down between the two of you to shove the memory box aside.

“If you’ll let me.”

“You have a lot of groveling to do,” you murmur, and he can feel your lips brush his, just a whisper, softly enough he wonders if he’s dreaming, “starting with this.”

He kisses you. One for every day he’s gone without. Until you’re falling onto your back and gazing up at him with stars in your eyes, fingers trailing his bare chest, lingering along the heart that thumps wildly beneath, singing of a forever.

——

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb

41 notes · View notes