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mimsynims · 6 months

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Fool For Love

part 6

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part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

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Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual! The first bit I wrote was shorter than I wanted, so I kept writing - and now you'll get more than usual instead haha... (Sorry not sorry about sneaking in a bit of a side ship I have, but it fit in this part and I want Karlach to have her hot blacksmith - yay HeartForge!)

Thank you for the comments! <3

Oh, and as I think I mentioned before, this will of course stray from canon but I have and will use things that actually happen in the game too (act 1/2), just FYI.

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Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn't have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only... now you do. And you're not handling it very well, making a rash decision you will regret. Is there a way to undo it?

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It’s eerily quiet when you get back to camp. Not that you expected your friends to still be awake, but the silence feels ominous.

Or perhaps it’s just your guilt making it seem that way.

You’re not sure breaking things off was the wrong decision — the jury is still out on that — but you regret how it happened. Regret being so harsh.

Regret not waiting until morning to have the conversation.

A noise coming from the direction of Gale’s tent snaps you out of your musings. Your body tenses up, readying for battle. Scanning the area, your hand drifts down towards a weapon that isn’t there. You must have dropped it sometime during… during. It aches thinking back and you can’t bring yourself to go back. Not now, anyway.

You spot a flash of purple and instantly relax. Gale must be awake still.

Perhaps the gods decided to be lenient after the night you had, giving you the opportunity to stomp out at least one fire you’ve accidentally started before it becomes an uncontrollable inferno.

“Still up, Gale?”

“Tav!” He smiles. “Yes, but I was about to tuck in for the night too.”

His eyes roam over you, but if he suspects what you and Astarion were up to after he and the others left, he doesn’t mention it.

“So, Gale…” You clear your throat. “I actually came over to apologise.”

“Apologise?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Whatever for?”

“I think I might’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in more than friendship. And that was careless of me.” And apparently, you’re too much of a coward to admit that you used him. “I’m sorry.”

Gale takes a moment before he answers. “You were careless, yes. But I think I may have an inkling as to why.”

“Ah.” Of course he does. “For the record, the circumstances surrounding that… reason, have changed, one might say.” Because you were acting without thought, yet again. “Which doesn’t affect things between us — you and me, I mean. I value our friendship dearly, but–”

“Tav.” Gale holds up a hand to stop you. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He sounds sincere, and searching his face, you find nothing to suggest otherwise. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I did have a really nice time tonight.”

“Good. Me too.” A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed when you invited the others, but in retrospect, I think you did the right thing.”

“You’re a good man, Gale.” A hug seems inappropriate, so you place a hand on his arm instead. “I’m sure someone better and kinder than me is waiting somewhere out there for you.”

His smile turns wry. “And I’m sure you and your ‘reason’ can sort things out once you both stop being stubborn arses.”

It’s probably because you’re still a bit drunk and in need of sleep, but you can’t stop yourself from bursting out laughing. “I think we would need a miracle for that.” Gale isn’t wrong, both you and Astarion are often too stubborn for your own good.

You expect Gale to at least chuckle, but instead, his expression softens. “It seems a miracle we’re all still alive, so who’s to say we can’t have another?”

He sounds so serious you stop laughing just as abruptly as you started. The hurt from before resurfaces, because there’s a bigger obstacle than stubbornness in your way. “I think I would need more than one miracle to accomplish what you’re talking about, and I doubt that I’m that lucky.”

Because even if you would talk, he still doesn’t love you, and in your current miserable state, you doubt that he ever will. To your dismay, you feel tears threatening to spill. Perhaps you should’ve waited until tomorrow to talk to Gale, after all.

Gale comes closer and puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, sympathy plain on his face. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

This conversation has taken a turn you don’t want to face right now — and with Gale, of all people — so you just nod.

“Thank you for your honesty, Tav. Now off to bed with you.” Taking a step back, Gale lets his hand drop, Gale. “We both need all the sleep we can get, I think.”

“We do, yes.” You turn to leave but not before giving him another smile. “Thank you, Gale.” You don’t elaborate, but you can tell that you don’t have to as he bows his head in understanding.

“Goodnight, Tav. Sleep well.”

“You too, goodnight.”

As you walk over to your tent to change before going to bed, you think you see movement in the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head to look, there’s nothing there.

“And now you’re imagining things,” you mutter to yourself. “No more alcohol for you until we’re somewhere safe.”

Whenever that may be.

The following days go by in a whirlwind of events, and even if you somehow would have plucked up the nerve to talk to Astarion, you never get the chance.

First, it was Elminster showing up to talk to Gale. You’re still not convinced it was a good idea to let him into your camp — most likely not, considering the message he was here to deliver.

You know you probably should’ve waited to let Gale have the time to process, but he insisted you press on and next thing you knew, your party was in the Shadowlands, facing goblins and driders and Harpers.

And Jaheira.

Astarion has been ignoring you as much as he can since the night, but you could sense his approval when you refused to drink the wine Jaheira offered you. Perhaps you can mend things between the two of you, in time. You desperately hope so, because a part of you already misses the chats. His embrace. The connection.

Last Light Inn turns out to be a place with many familiar faces, but after the long day you’ve all had, you decide to rest before reacquainting yourself with everyone — with one exception.

To your — and Karlach’s — delight, you find Dammon in the stables outside the inn building.

You hide a smile when Dammon lights up at the sight of the Karlach. He may be greeting all of you, but his eyes rarely leave the Tiefling, even when he talks to you and the others. It soothes your aching heart to know that things might work out for at least one of you, even if your own love life seems doomed.

Somewhere along the way, she’s become one of your best friends. She deserves nothing but happiness, and it feels like she’s one step closer when Dammon tells her that he can craft an insulating chamber for the infernal engine. It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s enough, for now, to finally allow her to touch people again.

You stand back as Karlach instals the chamber; Dammon looks at her so intently it almost feels like you’re intruding.

The chamber clicks into place.

“Go on,” Dammon says, lifting a hand. “Give us your hand.”

Circumstances aside, it’s a lovely moment, watching the two of them.

“Damn. I’m good.” Dammon laces their fingers for the briefest of moments. “And you — you’re very touchable.”

They’re both so adorable you wish you could grab the others and leave these two be. And perhaps you also wish that this could be you and a certain vampire that is currently looking everywhere but at you.

Letting go of Dammon, Karlach turns to you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from her yet.

“Tav! I can touch you now!”

“I’m so happy for you, Karlach! May I hug you?”

“Yes.” Her smile wavers with emotion. “Please.”

Her skin is hot against yours but it’s not unbearable, so you wrap your arms tight around her, glad to finally be able to hug your friend.

“Thank you.” She sounds close to tears. “Talk more back at camp, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Karlach? I need to explain the bad news too.”

You can feel a hitch in her movements and when she pulls back, her smile is strained.

She listens to what Dammon has to say, but you’re not sure she fully accepts it. You decide to leave it, for now, not wanting to dim her joy more than necessary.

Back at camp, Karlach keeps touching everyone here and there — even a moody Lae’zel accepts it, albeit reluctantly — and her happiness seems to lift the spirit of the others, too.

When everything calms down for the night, you seek her out. You can feel Astarion’s eyes on you, and in a moment of bravery, you decide you’ll talk to him after you’ve spoken to Karlach.

“Karlach? May I come in?”

“Of course! You’re always welcome into my tent, Tav.” She’s ever-moving, still brimming with energy. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” You decide to get right to the point. “I’m actually here to talk about you.”

“About me?”

“It was impossible not to notice the chemistry between Dammon and you today. With everything that’s happened, and considering what the future seems to hold for us… I think you should seize the moment. Go and find him. Be happy, while we still have time.”

Karlach stops to look at you, uncertain. “You think he would want that?”

“I do. He looked just as smitten as you clearly are.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Her expression turns a bit bashful. “I didn’t just imagine it?”

“No, definitely not. And we won’t be rushing out of here just yet, so if you find yourself inclined to spend the night with him…”

“Tav!”

You shrug, holding back a grin. “I’m just saying.”

“Right.” She nods to herself. “You’re right. I should go right now, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes. Go, shoo.”

She laughs. “So eager to get rid of me. Planning to seduce someone yourself, Tav? I’ve seen your looks towards a certain someone.”

You don’t bother holding back the curse as you both leave her tent. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yeaaah. But it’s fine, and I’m rooting for you.”

You look around, searching for the man in question. “Does that mean that everyone…?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Fuck. Double fuck.” So everyone knows. And Astarion is nowhere to be found. Again. “He’s not here.”

“Wanna tag along to the Inn? Perhaps he’s there?”

You’re not sure you’ll be able to approach him if he’s there but not alone, but then again, there’s probably no use waiting in camp either. “Yes, why not?”

You tell yourself that if he’s not there, you’ll drink one beer — because gods know you need it — and then you’ll head back. It’s been a long day, and even with everything buzzing around in your mind like a swarm of hornets, you’ll probably have no trouble falling asleep the moment your head hits your bedroll.

It turns out that Karlach is right, Astarion is there. You spot him right away, sitting on a barstool, a goblet of wine in his hand. But he’s not alone. He’s sitting very, very close to someone. You can’t see their face, but the way Astarion holds himself, the way he moves his hand to touch their shoulder…

It seems he has found someone else to spend the night with.

As is his right, but the pain is more than you can handle. You won’t stop him, but it’s impossible to stay and watch it happen. The jealousy would break you. As unluck would have it, Astarion chooses that moment to glance over his shoulder, and before you have time to react, he sees you.

Leave. You have to leave. You spin around and flee through the door, almost bumping into one of the Harpers. You’re making a fool of yourself, but you’d rather have that than seeing a smug expression on Astarion’s face.

Half-running towards camp, you decide it’s time to get over yourself. Astarion clearly has moved on — and so should you.

~~~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #fic wip

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 3 months

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≡;-꒰ 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑺𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔...

╰┈➤ ❝ jeremiah x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : angst, friends with benefits, forbidden love/"we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, hints at friendship betrayal, the pain hits more if you've read main story ch8 and xavier's myth ch5, kissing and making out, mentions of nipple play, mentions of oral (f and m receiving), fingering, clit play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cumshot, dirty talk, praise, cursing, use of nicknames "pretty" "princess" "milady/my lady", lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 4.5k

an : LOOK. BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING. before you "roxie... what—" me !!!!! writing for him is probably a one-time thing, but listen. he's CUTE!!! and if he's cute, i will write for him...!!!!! (sorry, xavier)

You didn't really know when it started.

After all, what were the odds for you to be strolling around long enough, just to chance across this quaint little flower shop that would eventually became part of your every being?

He'd been arranging some flowers out in the front when you first saw him, light brown, curly hair shining with a gleam under the sunlight. He was humming some kind of tune—it wasn't one you particularly knew, and yet, oddly enough, it was one you found familiar, in ways you couldn't really describe.

In retrospect, the flowers were pretty. Pastel colors blending in with limes and greens, a splash of vibrancy against a largely black exterior. Blues and yellows seemed to be predominant amongst the hues, almost tiny and star-like—a galaxy of flowers, you remember thinking.

And something about it had you easily magnetized.

"Hi!" You'd walked up to him without really thinking; lamely telling yourself in your head, that, hey, maybe your apartment could use some extra decorating...!

(It didn't, but now that you'd approached the florist like this, you felt compelled to at least buy something.)

Jeremiah, however, had been completely spooked by your sudden appearance. One look at you, and his eyes went wide and his humming immediately ceased—you could have sworn a hint of recognition had passed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could truly make out what it was that you saw.

"W-whoah!" he'd laughed, hints of both nervousness and awkwardness glaringly obvious to you—and any busybody that happened to be passing by, for that matter. "Uh!? Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone so, um... Early?"

You could feel it was a feeble excuse.

Sure, it had been your day off, and sure, maybe it was odd for you to be out and about in the morning at all—but it hadn't been that early. You almost wanted to say something about it out loud... but something in you told you to cut him some slack.

Instead, you'd offered a smile.

"No, I'm sorry. Are you not open yet? You have some beautiful flowers, and I couldn't help but want to look at them a little..."

It was amusing to you how easy his expressions were to read. They had changed seamlessly from bewilderment to joy, and he instantly gestured inside. "Oh! We are open! Wow, maybe I'm just really distracted this morning, haha! But hey, thanks, I'm actually pretty proud if them myself. Though I get some help from a friend in taking care of them, I think they're pretty too..."

You'd known from the start that he was quite the talker, but as a smile played on your lips, you thought that you didn't really mind so much, anyway.

He looked cute, and his voice was just as cute.

But the store, you later realized, would take your breath away in an instant.

The inside was just as majestic as the outside. You found that despite the fact that it looked rather small from a distance, its exterior was actually quite misleading. The inside was beautiful—a floor and a loft worth of flowers, and, you could spot all the way in the back, a door that seemed to be leading out into a garden.

And was that... a greenhouse?!

He had probably noticed the awe on your face when you stepped in, and couldn't help but chuckle. "You like?" he grinned, obvious pride twinkling in his eyes.

"Well... yeah! I can't belive I haven't found this place before. Don't you get a lot of customers?"

"Hmm... Sometimes. Depends on the day, really. But as it goes, if you know the place, then you know, right? Welcome to Philo!"

He turned momentarily before offering you a single yellow blossom, its petals unfurling like puffs in your hand.

You eyed it curiously.

"This, is...?"

"It's a zinnia flower. I thought its colour matched your eyes a little, so think of it as something to keep you company while you look around!"

That day, you picked out a lovely bouquet of little blue periwinkles, and learned that his name was Jeremiah.

From then on, you would chance upon him more, and more, and more—taking the occasional detour whenever you were free, or even timing your lunch breaks enough so to at least be able to catch a glimpse. For the flowers, of course, you would tell yourself, because each visit, Jeremiah would give you a single stem. "On the house!" he would say, and you would smile.

The first day you met, he'd given you a yellow zinnia.

The second day you met, he'd given you a sunflower.

The third day you met, he'd given you a white camellia.

And the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and onwards—a single flower, handed over with a dismissive excuse of it going with your hair, or your outfit, or your smile—most often accompanied by a nonchalant remark on how pretty you looked.

Sometimes, after that, you'd talk a little. He would ask you about your day, and you would ask him about his day... You've even learned, by now, the things that he liked. Flowers, a given, but also literature—poetry. Though he remarked that lately he hadn't gotten around to reading anything, he's always been quite fond of them.

You found that these little tidbits made him feel less... mysterious, in a sense, and more real. It went without saying that the more you went over to visit, the longer you'd stay—the longer you'd stay, the louder your heart would beat.

In the end, it wouldn't take long before you realized it yourself, but you were no longer going to Philo for simply... the flowers.

And on one particular night, having made it just in time for closing hours, things had started taking a different turn.

...That night had started off innocent.

Cheerful greetings, cheerful chatter—now, you'd grown accustomed to telling him all about how your day or how your week had gone, and then you would never fail to fluster at the way he'd listen to you so attentively. His eyes, you realized, were almost as bright as the sun—honey-brown like his hair, with specks and glimmers of sapphire when the light hit just right enough. If anything else, you thought that a sunflower suited him better than it did you—the cheerful bounce in his curls, and the way his laugh would tinkle in the air and send butterflies into your stomach without even trying.

Perhaps, down bad was an understatement for you.

But no matter how close you had gotten to this boy, you couldn't help but feel as if there was an unknown barrier between the two of you.

That night, Jeremiah gave you a rose.

Cleaned of its thorns, and as pure and pristine as all the other white flowers he'd housed in his store—he tucked it behind your ear, and his gaze softened in a way that you had never seen before.

The air between you was heavy.

But neither of you would make a definitive move.

"Hey, so how are the flowers all doing?" He broke the silence, but his eyes remained steely on yours.

"I'm... taking care of them like I promised to. I still have that bouquet, and I still have all of the other ones you gave me..."

"Hmm." A smile played at his lips, and then he began to list the recent flowers he'd given to you, for the past couple of weeks of your sporadic visits—

"Let's see. Azalea, petunia, iris, lily... a yellow tulip, some lavender—" He stopped, and amusement shone in his eyes. "Hey, don't tell me you're keeping them all in one vase! And with the others, too? That won't make for a pretty bouquet, you know, the colours will all just clash too much!"

You watched as he laughed, but your eyes only furrowed. "What do you mean? I don't have a greenhouse like you do! Might I remind you that I live in an apartment?!"

"I know, I know! But... You didn't really have to keep them..."

"Why not? They're from you..."

Jeremiah's gaze softened.

And then, again, came that same, pensive silence.

And again, you felt like you were drawn to him.

You couldn't have known why.

Despite whatever butterflies and giddiness he'd often bring upon you, it wasn't as if you'd spent all that much time with him—perhaps, you'd try to visit every week if you could, but that was it, wasn't it? A small chat, a few glances... a flower, and then a wave goodbye—

Yet here you were, like a moth to a flame.

"Penny for your thoughts, milady?" he mumbled out as if to bring you out of your reverie, but it almost seemed to you that he was having the same trepidations.

And that nickname.

He would call you by it often—it fell from his lips almost naturally, and then onto your ears equally as naturally. You've always liked the sound of it, reveling in the way he would treat you so sweetly like this, smiling to yourself at the way his eyes would squint in joy whenever he said it.

But, in this situation....

...Closer.

You chanced it, this feeling, and leaned in.

Jeremiah drew in a shaky breath... but he didn't move.

Instead, his eyes—so telling, his eyes—would move downwards over your face, before settling onto your lips.

"...'Miah," you whispered, and you saw him gulp at the nickname. "Can I kiss you?"

Moths, near a flame, never end well. Surely they don't.

But Jeremiah, despite knowing that, had never been happier to oblige.

That night, was the first night he had kissed you. The first time that both of you had given into the thrumming of temptation always in the air; the first time he had you pressed against his counter, hands roaming fondly over your body, kissing you almost as if his life depended on it.

And from that night forward, things changed substantially.

Weekly visits turned to daily—nightly. Chancing upon closing hours became more planned and deliberate, and then the situation would be the same. Lips crashing upon lips, fingers gripping tightly onto fistfuls of hair, the soft resounding of hushed moans into each others mouths.

You no longer remembered when he started becoming more daring, either. When he started sliding his hands underneath your top, when he started kissing at your neck, fingers rubbing your nipples fondly... You don't remember when you made it into his bedroom, having him trace his hands over your thighs, pushing you apart, fingers slipping into your cunt and sliding through your folds in a way that had you absolutely speechless. Or, neither could you remember how on some nights, he had his head between your legs—licking, and sucking, and eating you out, waves of pleasure coarsing through your veins like never before.

No, at this point, you really didn't remember—how many times your night had been filled with him, how many times you would come all over his mouth—his fingers—

How many times you'd moaned his name.

Perhaps, you thought, it might have been the same for him. Your hands, pumping his cock with fervor, tongue swirling around his tip, drinking up ever last drop of cum he would offer you. You knew, by now, that he loved it when your fingers fell through his hair, stroking fondly at his curled tresses, or digging into his scalp as a testament to your passion.

And yet, you'd never gone further.

Each night, you would see a hint of regret flash in his eyes, and though he would hold you, and kiss you, and do everything to ensure you would sleep soundly right beside him...

The ambiguity of your relationship was clear.

The nights would be for pleasure, but there would be nothing more.

No professions of love, no promises of commitment...

Perhaps, the butterflies you'd always felt around him, had also simmered down to nothing but racing heartbeats in anticipation of his touch.

"Does that feel good, pretty?"

Now, Jeremiah had his fingers in your pussy, drinking up the lust in your eyes, watching the way your mouth would hang open in breathless pants.

"Mhm... 'Miah... 'Miah, you're so good..."

He smiled up at you, thumb grazing over your clit, sighing when your head fell back with another moan.

"Staying quiet really was never your strong suit, huh? I love having you like this. You're so, pretty for me, my lady... So pretty..."

"M-Mia—aahn—"

He leaned up to kiss you, his lips feeling home on yours, your back arching to meet the thrust of his fingers.

"You're adorble," he mumbled, lightly onto your lips when he pulled back. "Really adorable. So adorable, damn, I'm so lucky."

Another moan from your mouth, and you tensed beneath him. "C-close!" you cried, "M'gonna— gonna cum!"

"Mhm? Real close, huh, pretty?"

His finger brushed on the spongy spot in your walls, and your high came crashing immediately.

"'Miah! Oh, fuck—'Miah, 'Miah— Jeremiah—"

You groaned as he rode out your orgasm, his fingers slowly pulling out of you, drenched in your slick, and you trembled beneath him with pleasure.

"'Miah..."

"Aww... Now I'm hard for you again..." He almost whined as he pressed against you, the feeling of his bare cock on your folds making you hiss in pleasure.

"Should I..." you panted, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. "Do you want me to suck you off again?"

Your offer came out genuinely, and you propped yourself up on your elbows as if to prepare yourself—but he shook his head, guiding you back down. Jeremiah smiled and placed kisses all over your face, rolling over to lay down next of you as if to make a point. "No need, princess. We've done enough for tonight, right?"

You expected this.

Jeremiah never went too far; always keeping your activities to a minimum, always shaking his head when you asked for more. His self control was impeccable—but it was ironic, almost, considering that these activities had already very much become a nightly adventure.

But you pouted.

Instinctively, you reached out a hand for him to hold; "Why do you hold yourself back when you're with me?"

"What do you mean?"

You could at scoffed at the obviously feigned innocence on his face when he turned to look at you.

"This. You won't let this go... further. Like there's—there's something stopping you, or..." You paused, and squeezed his hand "Jeremiah, what... are we? What are we doing?"

It was a question you'd never dared to ask, but one that you had always felt burning in the back of your mind.

He didn't answer immediately.

You probed him further.

"Even when we're like this, it's almost like... You're still so far away from me. I just... I want to understand where this is all coming from, because, 'Miah, I think I—"

"Don't..."

His voice, interrupting you, was twinged with guilt. He shifted closer enough to cradle you into his chest.

"We're just... We're friends, right? Who just... fool around, from time to time..."

The more words fell out of his mouth, the more he seemed to sound... regretful.

You looked up at him with a searching gaze. "Is that why you'll never really go further than this? Because we're... friends."

He nodded, slowly.

But something wasn't sitting right with you.

It was almost as if he knew something; as if he was hiding something so desperately from you that it was taking every ounce of his being not to give in and tell you everything.

"'Miah..."

"...Ah, fuck—please. Not that nickname, not right now..."

You couldn't understand the pain in his voice.

"...Jeremiah, then."

He looked at you, chewing on the inside of his lower lip, and his eyes held a glimmer of something you couldn't quite understand.

"Do you... Want this, Jeremiah? Is it... Is it not enjoyable for you? If— If you don't want to anymore, then we could just—"

"N-no! It is! God, it is! You're so perfect for me, princ—" the nickname caught in his throat, and he gulped. "Y-you... You always feel so good. I more than want it, I love doing this with you—!"

"Then why are you so sad?"

Your words hung in the air, the silence that followed laying thick with a mix of your emotions. It was almost like he took a moment to process the truth of what you'd said, and then he looked away, gaze flitting to the bedsheets, grip tight around your arms.

"'Miah..."

"No, don't... I— Please. Please, I just—I want you so bad. To have you beneath me—to fuck you, to make love to you... You don't even know how much. And even more than that, I... The more we do this, the more I realize that I don’t want to just fool around with you..."

"Then why don't you? Jeremiah... all this time, I—"

"You're not mine."

You paused. His voice came out barely a whisper, and though he refused to look at you, you could make out the tiny glistening of tears in his eyes.

"What... What do you mean?"

"You... You belong to someone else—"

"No, I don't! I don't have any other man in my life, 'Miah, you know this—"

"But you should!"

"...What? What are you saying?"

He finally looked at you, moving you onto your back once more, clear, pure conflict in his eyes, even as he leaned down to nip at your jawline. His hot, warm breaths were against your skin once more. Immediately you felt your hair raise up, all manner of thoughts seeping through your mind in an instant, desire stirring inside of you—

"'M-Miah..." You drew in a sharp breath. "W-wait, you're not— not making any sense, what's going on...?"

"I can't—I'm not—I'm not supposed to be doing this with you..." His voice shook, but he rolled his hips against yours, and you had to let out a gasp. "I'm not, but I... God, you're just so tempting..."

"I don't... U-understa—ah, shit—!"

"Wh- What's your... call..." Jeremiah let out a shaky breath near your ear, his eyes pleading, his cock resting neatly between your folds, the heat of his touch sending your mind into overdrive. "You— Is it okay? Can I put it in? You... Y-you said..."

Oh...

You swallowed thickly, melting under the intensity in his eyes, failing to hold back a whimper at the way he was sliding against you.

"Yes," you breathed, immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I said yes... I still say yes..."

His hips stuttered at your words, and you could see him grit his teeth as he bit back a loud moan. "O- once. Just once. Once, and I'll pull out, I promise... Just once, let me be inside you..."

Despite the fact that you had already given him consent, he seemed almost as if he was reassuring himself more than you. It didn't sit right with you—something was wrong, and you knew it. Jeremiah wasn't drunk, to have been possibly saying this while not in his right mind, but, this... this was...

What was holding him back?

You, being in such a situation where you understood nothing, didn't know what to do.

Should you stop him...?

Something in your mind was screaming at you to tell him to calm down; what if he didn't truly want this?

But his cock was rubbing so nicely into your clit. You could feel the pool of arousal gather within seconds of him rutting against you, and how—how could you think?

If this were up to you, you've wanted this for so long.

And he was asking you...

He was asking you if he could finally put it inside of you...

You shuddered at the thought, your walls clenching around nothing.

Fuck.

"You can take me, 'Miah," you whispered, breath shaking. You steeled yourself to keep from bucking your hips upwards. "But you have to promise me... Promise me, promise me, that you won't end up regretting it..."

Something flashed in his eyes.

Uncertainty, perhaps—

Jeremiah let out ragged pants, but for a moment, he didn't speak.

Ah...

You moved your hand slowly, trailing his skin before resting to cup his cheek.

"...Do you truly want this, Jeremiah?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Fuck, yes..."

"Okay. I want this, but I'm not forcing you. You have my consent, but I... I want yours."

He sighed, and leaned into your touch, something like a hopeless resignation now made clear in his eyes. He was like a deer in the headlights, almost—so embrolled in whatever internal conflict was at the forefront of his mind, that you almost pitied him. With a pout, you kissed him, slowly, softly, and he lay his forehead to meet yours.

"What if," he whispered, "there was... someone out there, who's loved you all this time?"

"...'Miah?"

"What if... What if I'm stealing you from him? What if it was never supposed to be this way? I just... I feel like... You were never supposed to be mine to hold..."

It wasn't something you could understand at a surface level. You knew that there was more to it—things he couldn't say out loud, and things he couldn't make you understand no matter how hard he tried to.

So you sighed.

"Well, 'Miah, I haven't met him, whoever he is."

"But you hav—"

"The point is that I'm here, now, with you. And, if... If, it makes you feel better, then..." You swallowed your pride, swallowed all the feelings you might have grown for him through your time together, swallowed all hope that you could ever have a normal relationship with him. "We're just... friends, right? Fooling around, like you said. Just... like we've always been doing."

Your heart buzzed, numb, almost.

The look in his eyes told you he didn't believe you; almost as if he'd known, all this time, that you've fallen in love with him, very likely just as he had with you—

But you didn't pay it any mind.

If nothing else, you didn't want to lose what you had now.

It was okay, like this.

You could live with it.

Maybe.

All things considered, your words seemed to bring him to relax just a little bit, and he nuzzled your nose, the fondness in his eyes resurfacing and drowning out any remaining traces of guilt. "Okay," he nodded, "you're right. Of course. We're just... fooling around. Friends, just... fooling around."

It was a false sense of security.

Somehow, the both of you knew it deep in your hearts that you were lying to yourselves.

But it didn't matter, right?

Not when the first push of his tip through your walls had you gasping your air, not when the feel of his length moving right into your cunt felt so perfect—so right. And along with you, Jeremiah let out quiet whimpers, sinking into you slowly, slipping in inch by inch, allowing the both of you to savor this very feeling.

"Holy shit," he cursed, breathless, gritting his teeth as he looked at you almost pleadingly—"How can you feel so good?"

By now he'd bottomed out and your bodies were flush against each other, feeling the echoing of your heartbeats in sync, heavy pants filling the equally weighty silence that followed. Leaning forward slightly, he moved to rest both of your legs on his shoulders, and you couldn't help but moan at the way the slight adjustment had him shifting deeper within you.

"'M-Miah—"

"Fuck, can I... Can I move?" He placed a chaste kiss on the skin of your calf, before letting his hands fall down to your waist, his grip firm yet gentle, his eyes still searching yours almost expectantly.

"Please..."

You could have melted at the way he smiled at you.

And then Jeremiah wasted no time in pulling out, before slowly easing back in. The way your name fell from his lips in a drawn-out moan had you tingling, and you held him tight against you, eyes closing at the way he stretched you out.

He felt so... warm. So safe.

Each of his thrusts were thoughtful, intentional; slow, but long and deep.

Filling.

"S'good, Miah..." you whispered, latching your hands onto his soft curls. "You fit so well..."

"I know... haah... I can't believe we're—I think I'll ruin you for him—"

You didn't dare dwell on his words and only clenched around him at a particularly deep thrust, having the both of you moan in synchrony.

"Fuck! My lady, please— g-go easy on me...!"

"Y-you're the one w-who's so deep—ah—!"

You pulled at his hair, feeling the way the sensitive head of his cock would delightfully brush against your most delicate spot. Your eyes clouded with want, raking your nails over his scalp, shuddering at the way he would moan and moan, on and on about the pleasure of your heat.

"Mhm... so good, 'Miah, s'perfect..." You moaned in tandem with him, whispering praises, matching his thrusts with every movement of your hips. It was too much, almost, even though all he was doing was thrusting into you, doe-like, unfocused eyes transfixed upon your face.

If you weren't lying to yourself, you were inclined to think that he, too, mirrored your exact thoughts.

"Princess... Fuck, my princess..."

Ah. That nickname.

The way his cock would twitch inside you at the mere sound of this nickname from his lips had you gasping, and you wondered, truly, why it had him so worked up. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him so attached to it—but you adored it; you reveled in the way he would use it on you.

"S-say it again," you breathed, heart racing at the wet sounds of your pussy with each of his thrusts, every roll of his hips pushing him so deep inside of you, gliding against that spongy spot. You could barely hold back your moans anymore, words turning into broken, unintelligible whimpers.

"You..." Jeremiah closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, and you felt lightheaded at the image of it in front of you. "Y-you... You like it? When I call you princess?"

Another whine escaped from your lips, and you continue to coax him, pleading him, praising him—anything to get him to bring you closer to your high.

And he listened.

"Fuck, princess— princess, princess, princess— my princess, my pretty, pretty princess—"

Your eyes rolled back as he picked up his pace, precise with his thrusts as the bed rocked steadily beneath you. Cries and moans spilled from your lips, your hands falling to twist into his sheets.

Perfect.

He was perfect.

You'd barely started grinding your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, and then your body was tensing with pleasure

"'M-Miah!" Your fingers raked down to his back, gripping tightly when he hissed into your ear. "M'cumming, 'Miah! M'gonn— I'll—!"

He thrust hard and deep inside of your cunt, and you trembled, crying out his name, mouth falling open—

Jeremiah buried his face into your neck as he pulled out of you, spilling his load all over your chest, broken chants of your name.

"I—fuck—shit—" He whined into your skin, barely lifting himself enough to relax your positions, crawling back over to give you the sweetest of kisses.

"Jeremiah..." You stroked his cheek once more, gently, lost in the way that his eyes would look at you with so much adoration that your heart could beat right out of your chest.

"I..." he started, a pout forming at his lips. "I'm sorry, my lady..."

He didn't explain why, but he didn't need to.

You could see it in his eyes.

His eyes, his ever expressive eyes, holding so much warmth and so much love—

He loved you.

Even though you had dared to reach this illusion of mutual agreement, even if you'd promised yourselves only just a short while ago that this wouldn't happen.

That it couldn't happen.

And you closed your eyes.

"I know," you whispered.

I love you, too.

Your words would remain unsaid.

⁺₊ / an: flower language is cute and the flowers mentioned here represent things like compliments/love/growing attraction! the zinnia symbolises welcoming back a missing friend! because jeremiah would totally flirt via flowers... haha... florist, right....... did i just make myself more attached to him? 4.5k wordcount says yes!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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hwavsg4ch4n · 8 months

Text

Men I Trust || L.F

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, bestie!Felix, soft dom!Felix, college au, Cheating, mentions of alcohol, penetration (F receiving), cursing, foreplay, public teasing, slight degradation

Note: omg haiii, I haven’t posted in so long wowwww. It feels good to be back tbh. I wanted to give you guys a good length worth of plot and smut as an apology for disappearing for so damn long. I have a lot of Ideas brewing, might end up looking like an unofficial KINKTOBER lol. Maybe next year I’ll do an official one haha.

Description: Felix wants to support you in anyway he can, even if it means bending his morals ever so gently

this is a work of fiction, not real… yeah

It was like a frown was permanently etched onto your features. “Girl…” you looked up from your textbook with tired eyes, being met with your friends' lively ones. You hummed in response, “Where is your boyfriend? Wasn’t he supposed to pick you up like 2 hours ago?” your lips parted as you flipped over your phone, thinking you missed tons of phone calls, secretly you were hoping you did miss calls; it would help the anxious thoughts.

At last, nothing. Not a text, not a voicemail, not a missed call, nothing. You sighed, “maybe he got caught up with something.” while offering your friend a tightlipped smile that she didn’t buy, you tried calling your boyfriend. Your already fake grin faltering as it went straight to voicemail. While being focused on your phone, you didn’t even realize another friend of yours reaching your table. “Hey girls!” You didn’t register his voice, too busy trying to figure out where your boyfriend was; did he turn his location off?

You called again, and again, all while looking down at the lacquered wooden table, scratching at the waxy surface too embarrassed to look up and face your friends. “Anthony!” you chimed as he answered after the second to last ring. “Y/n i’m busy.” You frowned, your heart racing as you heard laughter and music in the background. “Oh, I thought you would be picking me up. Did you forget again? Anthony, you- where even are you?”

Felix raised his brows in question, looking to your mutual friend that sat next to him in disappointment. He knew about the problems between your current boyfriend, he once had to call him for you on his phone; you were too scared and didn’t want to be perceived as pushy or clingy. However, it’s common sense to know a person can only be pushed but so far.

“Y/n please, not this again. I don’t have time for this, you can find a ride home baby. Maybe ask Felix? Lauren?” You scoffed as he sounded annoyed, “Find a fucking ride home? Are you serious? I’ve been waiting in this damn library for you, for more than 2 hours. Now I need to find a ride home?” Your friends watched as tears of frustration welled up into your eyes. “How about I make it up to you later, hm? You know where my spare key is.” You knew what he was suggesting, and somehow it made you even more upset. First he bails, and then tells you to wait up to 3 more hours at his empty apartment just to have the worst sex of your life, as an apology. Nevertheless, you said okay tiredly, mostly to just hang up.

You put your phone down with a heavy sigh, finally looking up to see who joined your table. Even Though it was subtle, a smile spread across your face. “Hey, Lix.” He smiled back in an attempt to hide his worry. “Hey, wanna share what that was about?” he let out a little chuckle. You huffed, “I told Anthony that me and Lauren would be studying so he offered to pick me up at 4pm, obviously he ditched me… again. I should’ve fucking known,” at this point you were ranting, your friends didn’t mind. “He’s never been on time before so why now, right?” You let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Also, can you believe that he tries to make it up to me with sex every fucking time? Sex, that’s not even good? I bet he can’t even spell the word clit!” your friends' mouths were parted at your outburst, Felix chuckling as he held back a blush. You apologized, “I’m sorry it’s just… I’m stressed. He stresses me in every which way.” Your hands rubbed at your neck in an attempt to soothe.

“Wanna go to the club?” Felix suggested. You looked at him straight faced, trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. “The club? really?” Felix shrugged, “why not? You guys study almost every night. That’s enough stress already y/n, you need to let loose, have a few drinks.” He shot a smile at you. You looked at Lauren who was nodding along. “Why not, girl? You have too much on your plate. Maybe you’ll meet someone better tonight. I know I will.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. You rolled your eyes, looking at the time. 5:30pm.

You looked down at your textbook and notes. Sighing, you muttered a “Sure.”, giving in quicker than usual. Felix clapped excitedly, ushering the nearby librarian to pay him with a hurried “shush”.

You fit into your cutest outfit. A black mini skirt paired with a black lace lingerie bodysuit snug against your figure. You felt serene as your music hummed in your room. Singing along to your favorite songs as you put on makeup. Dolling yourself up almost felt like meditation. You took in deep breaths every time you applied something to your skin, exhaling when you blended it out. It felt good… you felt good. At least until your phone dinged, and you found yourself hoping it would be Anthony begging and pleading for forgiveness, asking why you’re not at his place. Nonetheless, the dings were just YouTube notifications with the occasional email and period tracker app making it known you’re ovulating.

You were applying your deep brown lip liner when you heard a knock on your cracked door. You hummed as a signal to let the person come in. In the reflection of your vanity mirror you saw Felix with a completely different outfit from earlier.

A black t-shirt, a bit shorter than usual, if he raised his arms you could see one of the reasons why he’s so popular with the opposite sex. His oversized cargo pants fit him like a dream. His fingers clad with his favorite rings.

“You look pretty.” he complimented. You smiled at him through your reflection in gratitude while reaching for your lip gloss. “I bought you that ring didn’t I?” Felix gave you a bright smile, nodding as he plopped himself on your bean bag chair. “You did.” He muttered. He watched you as you applied your lipgloss, deep in thought. “Y/n,” he says, you hum back urging him to continue. “You deserve better, you know that right? I don’t think I need to tell you that but… I figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.” You turned to look at him, “Sometimes Felix, I feel like I have a huge stamp on my forehead that reads garbage.” You chuckled. “But I’ll get over it.” You shrug, carefully putting on your favorite gold hoop earrings.

He shook his head, sitting up straighter. “Absolutely not, no. Some men are just … dickheads. It’s not your fault, it never will be I promise. You’re amaz-” you let out a hearty laugh as he rambled at a lower octave, watching you turn around and douse your face in one more layer of settling spray. “Lixie,” he looked at you wide eyed to show he’s all ears. “Save the pep talks for tomorrow and just help me get drunk and have fun tonight, okay?” Felix raised his hands up In defense, nodding. “Deal.”

You smiled, getting up and walking to your closet, “Now help me pick out some heels, please and thank you.”

The music blared as two of your closest friends pulled you straight to the bar.

Lauren urged you all to take shots before the lot of you left, telling you that some of her friends are there, that shes plans on leaving with them. Felix complained and you took two tequila shots, no biggie. But now she’s yelling at the bartender to open her tab and give you each 4 shots of 818t. You didn’t protest, just giggling at Felix’s look of bewilderment as the 4 shots were placed in front of him.

The two of you watched Lauren down her first two. “Ever heard of pace yourself?” Felix yelled over the blaring music. The crowd cheered as the smoke machine turned on, becoming one with the strobe lights.

You turned to Felix after Lauren told him to shut up. “Fuck it!” You giggled, downing all your shots. Felix laughed along, downing his as well.

“Here babe,” Lauren passed you two more, justifying her reasoning by saying “it’s for good luck!” Before she got lost in the crowd of movement to find her friends. You tilted your head back. It hit you, all the shots you took hit you like a truck. Teetering the thin line between tipsy and drunk, you grabbed Felix’s hand. “Dance with me Lix!” You smiled sweetly at him, hoping off your barstool and tugging him behind you.

After finding a comfortable spot within the crowd of moving bodies, your arms made their way around Felix’s neck. You smiled up at him excitedly, he looked down at you smiling, chuckling as he tried to keep you steady. “You drunk yet?” Felix winced as you yelled a bit too loud, forgetting that he’s closer than you think.

“I’m trying to fight off the drunk, but I think I’m falling.” His words were slightly slurred, his freckled cheeks were tinged pink. You laughed, “I can tell, your cheeks are redder than the lights.” Felix shook his head as you tapped his cheeks, using whatever sobriety he had left in his being to keep you from bumping into too many strangers.

“No more talking, I’m dancing!” Before Felix could respond you turned around, your back pressing against his front, in an acceptable proximity Felix didn’t think twice about. But then his brain froze when you took his hands and placed them on your mid section. The cool temperature of his silver rings chilled your skin mildly as you felt it through your lace top. You sighed at the contrasting feeling, the rest of your body felt on fire and the alcohol warms you. Unbeknownst to you, your head fell to his shoulder slowly while your eyes closed in euphoria. You needed this, an escape with your friends. You sighed, relaxing into Felix as the music controlled your movements.

“Oh.” He muttered in surprise. His body heated, the tequila making him more aware than he should be. Felix gulped, licking his lips as he looked down. Taking In your skin, he witnessed you putting on body glitter when you all left the house. He didn’t let it soak in before, but now his vision is slightly blurred and the glitter was extra shiny. The strobe lights, blue and red, were hitting the highest points of your body that was exposed to him. We’re you fucking glowing? His breathing started to labor as you pressed against him harder, moving your hips with his at a pace that had him questioning if this moment was real.

“Y/n…?” He muttered, “Yeah?” You sighed out, sounding almost breathless. “W-what are you doing?” He breathed into your neck, blinking slowly as he observed your closed eyes and sly smirk. “I’m dancing, idiot. What else?” You raised one of your hands and pulled him down by the back of his neck so your lips grazed his ear. “You need to keep up, Lix.” You say playfully.

His breath hitched, his hold on your midsection tightening slightly without his control. He was warm, he felt really warm, almost on the brink of breaking a sweat.

You swayed, grinded, giggled and tightened your grip on the back of his neck ever so slightly as your other hand stroked his forearm. It felt heavily to be touched this way, you didn’t know the last time you had been. Your foggy drunk mind didn’t care that the touches were from one of your closest friends, if anything you felt safer. The only thing you could think about was the smell of his cologne, the music and the heat radiating off him. It felt overwhelming in the best way possible, you hummed while following the rhythm. Feeling his grip on your torso tightening, you bit your bottom lip. Heat pooling to the place that has craved proper attention for months.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to slow down his heartbeat. And then he felt it, you slightly brushing off him only to deliver a deep grind against his center. He huffed, “Y-Y/n.” You shushed him. “Just feel the music, have fun.” His breath labored as he felt you grind against him harder, swiveling your hips, bending your knees slightly, your mostly exposed back brushing against his chest, he was sure your perfume would be embedded in his shirt.

“Shit” he thought, the heat, all the flustered heat that he felt was now migrating to one place. He tried his best to fight it, he really did. But when you smell like this, when you look like this, when you feel like this, Felix couldn’t help it. The tent in his pants formed and took shape against your bottom. Your movements started to focus only in that area; you knew. Of course you knew, you’re not dumb, it was painfully obvious that you didn’t care either.

Felix fought for a steady breath as you moved against him. He cleared his throat now and then trying to remain sane, trying not to fuck up whatever was going on. And then it dawned on him where you two were. “Y/n, we’re uhm, we’re in public.” His words came out gruff and breathless.

You didn’t stop moving as you responded, “What are you suggesting?” You smirked, slow turning around to meet his eyes. When Felix met your eyes in the blaring lights, his member pulsed. “Cat got your tongue Lixie?” His lips parted only to close when your thumb traced his Adam's apple gently. “Jesus.” He whispered, you couldn’t hear.

“Can I kiss you here?” You ask slightly slurred. “Uhm, w-what about Antho-” you frowned, shaking your head. “Don’t fucking worry about him, he’s not as much man as you are.” You knew how to stroke his ego perfectly. Felix nodded, “Only if you’re sure.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s only a silly peck.”

It wasn't just a peck, it was a parted lip, heated, wet kiss planted on his adams apple. Followed by a sensual lick that trailed to the side of his neck. You sucked gently and carefully, all the while planting kisses and small bites. Felix was lost in the feeling of you, sighing, whimpering as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer. “Fuck it.” He whispers, you heard that.

His hand that was adorned with rings grips your jaw with soft urgency, guiding your parted lips to his. He kissed you deeply, taking your breath away as he tilted his head so his tongue could reach every inch of your mouth. You breathed in from your nose as your hands braced themselves on his chest. His lips were soft, so soft as you tasted your cherry lip gloss transferring onto his lips.

It felt as if the blaring music faded away as the two of you made out in between dancing bodies that were too drunk to even notice you. You gasped a proper breath as Felix detached you from him by your jaw. “My place or yours?” You answered with a dazed, “Huh?” He chuckled, his other hands moving down your back to softly pat your ass as an attempt to snap you back to reality. “I said, my place or yours darling?”

The door to Felix’s apartment barely closed before you grabbed Felix by the neck and pulled him in for another kiss that would’ve been a bit too raunchy for a night club. You kicked off your heels as Felix did his shoes, never thinking of breaking the kiss. He grabbed your waist and turned on his dim warm kitchen light. He guided you to lean on his dark marble counter, “How you feeling?” He asked, pulling away slightly, unbuttoning his pants slowly as he waited for your response.

You looked down between your bodies, watching as his fingers pulled down his fly, exposing his black Calvin boxers. He took two fingers to fix your gaze back to his “I asked you a question.” His eyes were almost as dark as his voice while he looked at you. “I want you.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice. You could remember the last time you sounded so needy, being in a situation that made you this way didn’t cross your mind. If you were sober you’d be entirely embarrassed.

Felix grinned, reaching behind your back to unzip your skirt, pushing it down your legs gently. “That’s not what I asked you.” He reminded. You racked your brain, trying with all your might to think of the question that seemed so simple. Then his lips met your neck and your mind went blank. “Answer me, y/n.” He rumbled. “Can you- can you repeat the question?” You stammered. He smirked against your skin, giving your hip a squeeze. “I asked how you’re feeling, are you tired? You need a break?” You shook your head in disapproval. “No, no I’m okay. Keep going, I’m okay, please.”

Felix nodded, stepping back to look at your lace bodysuit that now acted as lingerie. He tsked, biting his lips while his finger traced the intricate detail on your hip bone. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” You looked up at him, flustered. “Any smart man would keep you to himself, if he knew what was good for him that is.” You shook your head in embarrassment and he smirked. “Feel what you did to me, y/n.” He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it before guiding you into the warmth of his pants. His member hard and pulsating, warm as you hold him.

“Felix...” He grins, “Oh I know, I’m taking too long, hm?”. He takes your hand out of his pants, pushing you deeper into the counter. His lips find yours again. He gropes at your flesh, and bites your bottom lip all before he rips a hole in the lace he adored so much; right where you need him the most. You gasp but he only takes that opportunity to kiss you deeper. His fingers slip past your folds to feel the wetness that accumulated throughout the night. He hums, gathering your moisture to rub your bundle of nerves sweetly. You moan pathetically into his mouth, you needed this more than you thought.

Felix breaks away from your lips only to pull down your top, exposing your hard nipples. He sucks and licks on them with a small nip to keep you from melting into pleasure completely. “Ohh, Lix there, there, god.” You breathed out, guiding his hand to where your clit loves it the most. Your head falls back as your other hand grips his hair. “Not yet,” he mutters against you. His fingers slide down your slit with ease, plunging into your leaking hole with a squelch. You bite your lip and close your eyes, flustered by the noises your body is capable of making due to your close friend's hand.

He pumps his fingers into you, earning a few groans as you look down. “It feels better with you.” You groan, he’s elated, his bulge twitched against your thigh. “Oh baby, I bet. I fucking bet.” He rewards you with the curl of his fingers, stimulating the most delicate part of you. You lurch forward, one hand shooting to your unoccupied mound for support as the other pulls his mouth off your now puffy bud. You press your foreheads together, “I wanna cum for you,” you breathe out, Felix parts his lips, fingers not halting. “I want you to feel how hard I can clench around you, think about my pussy milking you that way, want you to feel it Lixie.” You never spoke like this, the words flowed from your dirty lips like a river, Felix grew close to overwhelmed.

“Fuck, do you hear yourself baby? Such a fucking slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded quickly, your brows furrowing as you felt the knot you longed for tangle in your tummy. “Close lix close please, I need it.” He pecked your nose, quickly switching to stimulating your clit right where you placed him last. Your head fell back again, letting out a groan as Felix attached his swollen lips to your neck. “Fucking creaming on my fingers baby,” you let out hushed and quick yes’s. He hummed while grinning, “Cum, y/n. Give it to me.” And you did. You went silent as your mouth gapped, your chest heaving and your knees buckled as he rode you threw it. Pressing kisses to your chest and soothing the purple bruises he littered across your neck.

You fought to catch your breath as Felix ripped the hole in your lace wider, “Sorry darling, I’m not done, if that’s okay with you.” Instead of verbal confirmation, you turned around on shaky legs and leaned forward, nipples pressing against the cold marble. You propped one leg on his barstool and arched your back, exposing your sopping heat and puffy clit.

You whined, wiggling your bottom, signaling you wanted more from him. Felix was astonished, almost prideful, he didn’t even bother pulling his pants down. He pulled his member out, hissing as his tip came in contact with your heat. Then it was like a lightbulb came on, “I’ll go get a condom.” You huffed in protest, “Raw, fuck me raw. I’m on the pill lix, I’m clean. I always made him use a condom. Raw please.” You tripped over your words, grinding on his length in an attempt to push him in yourself. His cock jumped at your pleas, “You want me that bad?” You nodded in response, flinching as his tip brushed your clit.

Felix groaned, pushing himself in. Your mouth gaped, your eyes shutting in untter bliss; you were full to your heart’s content. “Perfect.” You moaned, pushing yourself back on his dick. He let you do your thing for a while, watching as your past orgasm made itself known on his shaft. A white ring coating him as your walls squeezed him with warmth.

“You feel so good,” he growls. He takes your hips, meeting you in the middle as he thrusts into you. You cried out his name, your palms flat on his table when you felt him spread your ass cheeks apart, pushing into you with fast deep thrusts. All you could let out was huffs of air and strangled profanities as he hit places you thought were myths.

“Taking me so well, y/n. So fucking good.” He muttered, placing his hand at the base of your back for more leverage. “You’re creaming me darling, you hear that?” The sloshing sound of your cunt was almost as loud as the slap Felix delivered to your ass.

His hand rubbed at your puffy clit, you had no choice but to tear up. “Oh my god.” You sobbed. “I need you to cum baby, I need you to cum so I can hm? Be nice to your Lixie.” You bit your lip, the intensity of your nearing climax being felt in the tip of your fingers as your thighs shook. “Fuck!” You groaned loudly, hearing the sound of your pussy gushing and juice’s hitting the floor was the least of your worries as you saw stars. You swore at that moment you reached nirvana.

Your body had a mind of its own as you pulled your cunt off his member and got down on your knees before him. “Record me, record how you cum on me.” You muttered while looking up at your closest friend. Felix had to act quick, the sight of your mascara running and tear stained cheeks, your eyes low and tongue out waiting to take whatever he would give was now embedded in his mind as a core memory.

He reached for his phone in his back pocket, swiping to his camera and hitting record with flash as he stroked himself quickly. You looked filthy, your pussy was dripping, your body was glistening and your hair was messy. You didn’t seem to care as your manicured nails that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend pity paid for, excitedly gripped Felix’s cargo clad thighs in anticipation.

“Shit shit.” He came, on your tits, on your nose and of course on your tongue. He groaned as you suckled on his twitching tip, kissing and licking. Felix looked at you through his camera, his free hand caressing your face, wiping your tears and hair away. Thumb lingered down to your soft swollen lips, pushing passed as you sucked gently. You smiled up at him just as he stopped recording.

“Thank you Lixie.” You whispered, fucked out and hazy. He smiled sweetly at you, “No baby, thank you.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Bath time y/n. Come on.” He pulled you up gently.

Your hands drew circles on his chest as he stroked your naked back.

“Y/n?” You hummed in response, breathing in his body wash.

“What should I do with that video?” You looked up at Felix, with a small smile. “Send it to him and brag for the both of us, only if you want to.” You laid back down sighing in content. Felix played with your hair and chuckled. He knew you were groggy and not confident in your words. He settled for a simple screenshot, one where anyone could barely tell it was you. His ring clad thumb in your mouth as you sucked.

The picture is attached with a short but sweet message.

“Sorry bro.”

#skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #lee felix #felix x reader #felix smut

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Four: All By Myself

a/n: here’s chapter four of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (6k words); mention of pet loss; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Movies, your favorite songs, vacations, the “wedded bliss” away in the Maldives with your husband.

Since then, time seems to move faster than you can keep track of. Days slip into weeks, and before long you’re starting clinical rotations and the endless piles of schoolwork you’re certain your professors enjoy assigning every week.

The desk in your bedroom becomes a host for countless textbooks and notebooks, full to the brim with diagrams you copied, definitions, scribbled up notes.

Mornings are spent there, afternoons too. It’s fine, and it works, because most days Steve’s gone anyway. The company is working on some new property development. Another hotel on some private island, millions of dollars worth of work, but something has gone awry and Steve’s needed at all hours of the day.

At least that’s what he reassures you when you perk up at the kitchen island, trying to catch him before he leaves. When you huff out a sigh as he slips his sunglasses on and says to not wait up.

You never do.

By the time you’re done with your own rotations, your feet are aching and sleep—albeit often disrupted sleep these days, sleeping in an unfamiliar home still—is the only thing on your mind. That and another massage like the one you had back on your honeymoon, where every inch of your body had been tended to.

In the time since returning from your honeymoon, you’ve also begun adding things here and there to the penthouse. Pops of color in the form of new couch cushions in a pastel blue, new curtains to cover the ample windows at night. In the halls and on various surfaces you’ve already put some of your new wedding photos up, giving the illusion of a happily married couple for anyone who may pay a visit.

You’re scheduled for a get together with Steve’s cousin, Theobald Cletus, and his wife, Cami, next weekend. A thought that has you slightly panicked solely because it’s thanks to Steve’s cousin you’re married anyway. Deciding not to dawdle on thoughts of the future, you cast a glance at the oven light in the kitchen, glowing red neon stark against your white walls. Another Saturday by your lonesome, with Steve off to work until who knows when.

With a huff, you walk over to throw your bowl of cereal into the sink, letting the water run for a moment before shutting it and ripping a paper towel to wipe your hands with. Knowing you’re to pick up your client’s dogs in thirty minutes, you set to work cleaning up the place for when Steve gets home. Not that it takes long, given Steve's words on your honeymoon proved true.

He’s often not home for most hours of the day and therefore there’s hardly ever any mess, and the few nights you’ve spent time together since you married, it’s usually food ordered to the suite or dinners with his coworkers. Dinners where you sit at his side, nodding and smiling along as they talk about things you don’t really understand, fake fawning over a husband who you don’t understand most of the time.

There were moments, small ones, that week spent in the Maldives where you thought maybe an attraction ran both ways. And now, his conversation isn’t frequent. You text here and there throughout the day. Questions as to if you’re okay, if your clinicals were running late, if you wanted him to grab you a coffee on his way home. Or on the nights when he stayed at the office until nighttime, you texted him to ask what he might want to eat, if he needed a coffee delivery, if he needed anything. But that’s the extent of it.

It’s almost as if a wall has fallen down since you touched back down in the city. A wall that divides the two of you, stark as the hall that separates your bedrooms. Neither of you seems keen on pushing those barriers, the parameters of your relationship unspoken and yet written in the sands.

Pushing the thoughts to the side, you toss the paper towel you use to wipe the counters down into the garbage and shoot Steve a quick message that you’ll be leaving for a bit to walk around the neighborhood.

He responds quickly. Be safe.

At least you know he cares enough to worry for your safety. The thought has your lip twitching upward, typing back a simple, Ball and chain, remember? You have three more years of me.

He doesn’t respond. You don’t expect him to. It’s been more or less that way for a couple weeks now. Broken conversation, fleeting glances, lowered expectations. Wedded bliss is a dream—a dream you don’t allow yourself. Can’t afford to.

Not now, not as you grab your crossbody bag and shove your phone into the pocket on your leggings, and take to the elevator.

Your dog walking business, if you could call it that as you only had three clients so far, started on a whim. Over the span of a few weeks, and your constant walks through the main floor of your building on your way to meet Hopper, your husband’s personal driver, you bumped into Mrs. Lowell often. The older woman, likely in her sixties by your estimation, waved every morning as she walked her golden retriever, Mimsy, around the neighborhood.

It just so happened that one morning you stumbled upon her in the main floor of your apartment building, cradling her ankle as workers scrambled to call the medical concierge on standby. As any good neighbor would, you brought her flowers when you heard she’d arrived home from the hospital. Long stems in varying pretty shades that brought tears to her eyes. She’d requested you come inside, Mimsy leaping up as you entered, clearly adoring endless affection.

Talking turned into offering to walk her dog as she got better, and conversation about how you were recently married, still getting accustomed to your new life, and juggling school—but that you were looking to help if she needed it. Luckily, she offered to pay, and after a few days, asked if it would be okay to pass your number out to those who might also use a little assistance.

It brought your grand total of dogs to be walked to a measly three; however, people in this neighborhood, you found, were willing to pay generously for said services. With the three clients you’ve secured already, you were able to send your father nearly all of what you’d been earning at your restaurant previously. A few more clients, and you’d be able to cover a good portion of his mortgage, if only to help him while searching for a new job position.

That morning, you were to walk Mimsy, Luca and Jacque. Mimsy, your chipper new golden retriever friend, and Luca and Jacque, two excitable Boston Terriers. The new morning routine gives you a new appreciation for your neighborhood.

Even if Hopper trails by in his car on the sidewalk, in the event you need him. You never do, and you remind him as such, but he’s been there nevertheless.

Hopper’s lovely. Over the course of the weeks since you’ve been back from your honeymoon, you’ve become fast friends with the man. From what you’ve learned, he’s been recently married as well to his wonderful wife, Joyce. He talks about her fondly, all bashful smiles hidden behind the mustache that spills over his top lip.

However, as much as he talks about Joyce, he talks about his daughter, El, all the more. El, his teenager who he’d adopted a few years ago now. Spoke of her like she was a literal sunshine incarnate. He’d also mentioned his step sons, Will and Jonathan. Jonathan, who you remembered, had been your head photographer at your wedding and responsible for all the gorgeous shots now littered through your home that made Steve and you look like a couple deeply in love. Magic, he was literal magic.

All that in mind, you’d suggested you all get together for dinner—even despite Hopper’s protests that “Mr. Harrington is always busy.” Knowing that, you’d still all managed to get together at your home for dinner one night, minus Jonathan. He apparently had gone on some trip to California with one of his good friends named Argyle, if you’d remembered correctly. But the rest of the Hopper-Byers family arrived for dinner and you watched, with a sinking feeling in your gut, as Steve charmed both of the teenagers. Wondered what it was about him that made people gravitate toward him, and if he even noticed he carried that around with him everywhere.

You supposed it made sense, given the burgeoning attraction you held toward the man who spoke to children with a kindness that shocked you, and yet spared you fleeting glances at the door before he left each morning.

Sighing, you stroll down the busy city streets, waving to neighbors in passing, thanking Hopper when he eventually leaves your side long enough to stop and get himself coffee. Or at least you assume it’s just for him, until he pulls out a second drink from his car when you take a moment to stop on a bench, numerous pairs of eyes peering up at you, expectant for a treat.

“Oh, how did you know what I usually order?” You grasp the cup in your free hand, curling the rest of the leashes around your other forearm.

“I didn’t,” he says gruffly, coming to settle down beside you on your bench in the middle of the park you wander into most mornings now. “Your husband sent me the order.”

“My husband,” you say, taking a slow sip. “He’s just…so thoughtful sometimes.”

The lie slips out easily, smiling when Jacque hops up onto the bench beside you, nudging your elbow with his snout. You hold out your bare palm, showing him there are no secret treats on your person, and exhale loudly.

“He thought you might have a long day ahead of you. Think of it as a…gesture. I’m sure he feels bad about spending so much time away now that you two just got back.”

“Oh, I'm sure of it.”

“But he’s a good kid. A good man now. I’ve known him for a few years now, and he means well.”

You take another sip of your drink, nodding. “I know.” A deep exhale falls from your lips, left hand raising in the air. Both your rings sparkle in the early morning light, still heavy around the base of your knuckle. “I married him.”

“That you did.” Hopper chuckles, nodding to your new, furry friends around town. “I think it’s about time we get back home. These three look ready to call it in.”

And he’s right. Hopper is always right. In a new home, so far from your own father, Hopper’s been nothing short of spectacular. A constant support, even on the days when your clinicals have drained you dry. Even when you want nothing more than to go home and curl up in your pajamas and eat ice cream out of a carton. There with a kind word, a gruff response, a joke.

So it comes as a surprise to you when you’re walking out of your late evening class, and see your husband waiting on the curb with the car windows rolled down.

Your friend Daniel, chatting idly beside you, pauses, taking in your husband’s expensive car, before shifting his gaze back to you. Amber, another friend from class, does a double take as well, before settling on the rings on your left hand.

“Mrs. Harrington. Good j—” Your elbow nudges her ribs. Hard. “Ow!”

“Danny, Amber…this is my husband, Steve.”

Steve waves. Or rather, unfurls the fingers on his left hand from around the steering wheel, head dipping slightly in introduction. “Sorry to be rude, but we actually have somewhere to be. It was nice meeting you both.”

They wave as you hike your bag up further over your shoulders, opening the door on the passenger side. Your cellphone clatters into his center console when you drop down, his body jerking from the sound, before he seemingly remembers you have an audience.

It never occurs to you he might touch you, since he hasn’t in weeks, and you can’t really hide as you flinch when he kisses you. A small brush on the corner of your lips, but it jolts you all the same. His lips tug downward as you both wave and pull away from the parking lot, his fingers moving to lower the dial on the music playing from the car speakers.

“Don’t think it sends a ‘we’re happily married’ message if you do that every time I kiss you,” he says numbly, left hand curling tighter around the steering wheel.

“Wasn’t expecting it,” you say, shrugging.

“I’m your husband. Husbands kiss their wives hello.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, training your gaze ahead. “Where’s Hopper?”

“Something came up and he couldn’t make it.”

“And the ‘somewhere we have to be?’” you ask softly.

“I’m meeting with someone over video chat tonight. Different time zones.”

“Work meeting.” At his nod, you lean further into your seat. “How was—”

“I’m picking you up the rest of the week.”

Nose wrinkling, you turn to look at him. “You realize today is my only day in class? I have clinicals at the animal hospital every other day.”

He dips his head, though you don’t think he really knows your schedule. “That’s fine. I’m still picking you up.”

“Okay…”

“Danny seemed nice.”

“If this is because you’re jealous, Steve, it’s really not an issue.” Raising your left hand in the air for emphasis, you give your fingers a little wiggle. “I’m married. To you. Till death do us part, or the end of three years in our case.”

The remainder of your trip is spent in silence. Some love song seeps from his Spotify playlist, a crooning voice you recognize, as it’s the same singer for your choice of first dance as a married couple. It’s only been weeks, and yet your wedding, now nearly two months old, feels like a long distant memory. Steve’s dark tuxedo, your flowing gown, endless dancing, twirling feet, lingering kisses.

Eyes trailing up your husband’s forearm, you sigh, moving to unbuckle yourself when he pulls up and the valet accepts the car keys from him. His hand lingers against your lower back as you walk through the main entrance together, greeting workers as you pass, calls of “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Harrington” meeting your ears.

That hand, the warmth of his palm drops when you enter the private elevator taking you up to your home, and you’re left with the quiet and the four walls of that silver chamber. Your eyes meet your distorted reflection, catch on the downturn of your lips.

You want things to change. Need them to, especially if you’ll be married to this man for the next three years, but questions of how rattle around in your brain. Thoughts come up empty as the doors open and you’re home once more, Steve moving to enter the kitchen, and you drop down against the couch in the living room.

“Maybe we could, I don’t know, watch a movie or something before your meeting?” you suggest airily, grasping the remote from your coffee table, head turned over your shoulder to watch as Steve grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

Steve pauses near the island, fingers moving to rub along the hair lining his jaw. He rolls his neck slowly, shoulders audibly cracking, smiling softly. “I’m actually about to head into the gym, and then I have that meeting. Do you mind ordering from that Italian place we got from the other night?”

“Do you want what you usually get?”

Chicken Marsala. He’s gotten it the past three times you ordered. You usually opt for the Penne Alla Vodka, the place you found near your new home fantastic for dinners. You’d know, because it’s often where his work friends eat as well, during those dinners where you’re Steve’s doting wife, arm around his, leaning in close, trying to stay afloat.

“That would be great,” he says softly, moving out from behind the island. He enters the living area and comes up behind you, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze. You hear the gentle fumble of his pocket, and you know he’s handing you his credit card before you even have a moment to protest. “Here.”

“I’ve got it tonight,” you tell him, glancing up his forearm, locking your eyes with his hazel ones. “I’ve been…working a little here and there.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to, there’s a difference.”

You haven’t told him everything about your small business. Haven’t mentioned why most of your pay received from it disappears as quickly as you have it. Him paying for school is one thing; you’re not willing to tell him about your father’s situation, about the fact you’ve been supporting Caroline for a few years now, pushing yourself to work endless hours if only to scrape by so she doesn’t have to some day when she’s older. If there’s one thing you know about your new husband, it’s his desire to go above and beyond for those around him. Highly affluent, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he holds himself. Humble, kind, and caring. Doesn’t matter if your relationship is…barely existent, the truth is the truth that even you can’t deny. He’d offer to help your family and you can’t accept that.

Hopper’s words ring true: at his core, in every fiber of his being, Steve Harrington is a good man.

And as much as the strain on your relationship burdens you, life has looked up since you married. A reality that plagues your heart. Because, no, money didn’t make you happy. But having it, the suddenness of your new wealth—it has lightened the weight on your shoulders, given you a chance to breathe, to merely exist without worrying how you’ll manage to cover rent, student loans, Caroline’s necessities, your father’s struggles.

“Just let me take care of it tonight?” Steve pleads, giving your shoulder another squeeze. “And…if I finish my meeting early, we can rent a movie.”

“Really?”

He frowns. It’s a subtle downturn of his lips, and yet it’s there all the same. “I hate the way you just said that. I know I’ve been busy. It’s just—I’m just—”

“It’s fine,” you pat his hand gently, giving him a small smile. “Go. Get to your workout and your meeting. I’ll look for a potential movie…if you can make it.”

He nods and slips from the room, leaving you to pick up where you left off on a rewatch of Gilmore Girls. You’re a few episodes in, head propped up in your hand, elbow resting on the armrest of the couch when Steve slips into the living room.

The sun has long set, the moon bright through the floor to ceiling windows of your home. You catch the freshly washed hair on his head, the thin white tee stretched over the broad expanse of his chest, and swallow at the gray sweats hanging low on his waist as he pads across the plush carpet.

There’s little time to ogle your husband, as his phone pings and he tells you the doorman said the food arrived. Once Steve’s retrieved it, the two of you eat in comfortable silence, starting a movie you’d managed to find on one of his streaming services. Bellies full, he only manages to make it a half hour into the movie before he’s curling on his side on the couch opposite of yours and falling asleep.

You can’t even be mad, because he tried. You’ll give him that.

This time.

You’re mad. And, quite frankly, upset at Steve Harrington.

It’s pouring in the city. Endless rain droplets splattering across busy streets. Dark clouds flash with lightning up above, the rumble of thunder echoing soon thereafter. People move in and out of puddles on sidewalks, bodies bumping, shoulders brushing, buzzing like the traffic on gridlocked roads.

Ironic, given the state of the day.

Ironic, given your mood.

Your heart aches. Every inch of your body is still reeling over your day of clinicals—over what you witnessed for the first time. Pain of loss first hand, up close and personal, shaking you to your very core.

You’d been texting Steve. Short quips here and there throughout the day. More mindful than he has been in the past few weeks. Motivated by the silly jealousy he’d felt over Danny, you’re not sure, but if it prompted him to try harder you weren’t going to complain.

But now he was late. And not even by a few minutes, but an hour.

Steve. They’re not going to let me stay here much longer to keep dry. The practice closes soon. Am I just taking a train home?

No response.

None.

Unanswered like your last few messages.

Steve?

Dearest Husband?

EARTH TO DINGUS.

Nothing.

One of the veterinary technicians calls your name where you stand near the front door, her voice high and tight over the light music streaming from a speaker in the distance. Head turning, you tuck your phone into your pocket, walking back down the hall from whence you came, fingers tapping along the countertop.

“We’re heading out soon,” Valerie says, putting away the last of her things in her pocketbook. “Are you sure you have a ride?”

“Yeah.” But there’s no vibration of a text in your pocket. A fact that makes your stomach sink further in your belly. “My husband will be here any minute. I’m sure of it.”

Only he’s not. You watch as the veterinarians and technicians leave. As the lights flicker off in the building. As they all wave you goodbye as you sit outside on that bench, clothes plastered to your skin, rain chilling you to the bone.

There’s no text. No explanation. Only the silence of a message unanswered. Frustrated, and increasingly tired, you thumb at the rings on your hand. Watch as the diamonds twirl around and around, as droplets of rain slash against your scrubs, your backpack, and likely your books as well.

Then finally, a car pulls up on the sidewalk. Blacked out windows, dark vehicle, and an older man behind the wheel, rolling down the window and waving your way.

Hopper.

Not…Steve.

“Sorry, Mrs. Harrington,” he says, and it’s only then you realize you must have outwardly expressed your disappointment. “Traffic was endless today.”

“I just…” Your voice trails off as you clamber into the passenger seat, eyes locked on the road ahead, drops of rain gliding down the windshield capturing your attention. Staving off the hurt bubbling in your chest. “Today wasn’t a good day. And you’re always a welcomed sight, but I—”

“You don’t have to explain, kid.”

Uncertainty wells, and disappointment grows. It’s hard to pinpoint why. There’s no presently romantic nature to your relationship, but you can’t help but to recall those moments before your wedding, when you’d been overcome with fear and anticipation of what you were about to do. Can’t help but remember his hands within your own, the gentle cadence of his voice, the way his fingers had dragged along the back of your palm. How he’d held your gaze as you walked down the aisle, and never once strayed until you were both ready. Now it’s the realization that he’d told you he’d be there. And, in a sense, you wanted him to be. Wanted to see him, if for nothing at all than to be present. A solid form in a day that has felt like being swept up in a storm and tossed out into unknown territory. Yet you’re left, sitting in a vehicle with a man who you love and adore, and the stone that sinks to the pit of your stomach over the fact that Steve had told you one thing, and done another.

Said he’d be there and wasn’t.

That part—that’s the part that hurts the most.

Steve’s neck deep in another issue with work when you come barreling in, scrubs soaked, stethoscope swinging around your neck, eyes reddened and puffy. He’s about to say something from where he sits at the kitchen island when you open the refrigerator door and pull out a bottle of wine left to chill, tossing your things on the counter before pulling a glass out of the cabinet.

He winces as you slam it down onto the counter, pouring yourself a glass of rosé. “Those are the nice glasses we got from our party!” he complains, watching as you down the first glass and pour a second. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Long day,” you mumble, flipping through mail. You pause in the middle of ripping an envelope open, eyes darting to his laptop, and then to his face. “Guess you’ve been busy.”

“I’m always busy.”

“I know.”

The way you say it. The coldness in your tone. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like it. Hates the bite that’s there behind your words. Hates how you won’t even look at him at this moment. And it’s in that he knows something is wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he tries again, shutting the laptop.

Your head shakes slowly and he watches as you maneuver around him, making your way toward the hallway leading to your bedroom. A chair squeals along the tile as he follows you, shoulder thumping the corner in his hastiness, fingers curling around your shoulder just as your fingers touch the door handle of your bedroom and start to turn.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Harrington.”

Harrington.

It’s not said in your normal, teasing tone. No—there’s only hurt there. A wobbly attempt.

“Something is wrong, and I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.”

“Steve…just stop.”

“No, you’re angry and I want to know why.”

“I told you, I had a long day.” Lie. Or not. Regardless, it’s not the full truth, and it grates on his nerves. “I just want to go to bed.”

He groans. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Your eyes flicker in the darkness. Sorrow settles across your features. Brows furrow in the middle of your forehead, lips downturn, shoulders slouch. A low exhale spills from your lips, fingers brushing along one of the many new photo frames lining the walls. He follows the line of your forearm and glances at the picture displayed there; he’s holding you close, arm around your waist, forehead against yours. Your dress trails behind you, bouquet behind your back, the bend of your spine elegant and striking. Beautiful. And happy.

You don’t look happy right now, though.

“Do you know what time my clinicals end?”

The question catches him off guard. “Five thirty. Unless you text me that you’re running late.”

“What time is it now?”

He looks down at his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Seven thirty. Look, I’m sorry okay? I had a meeting that ran late so I sent Hopper. I don’t see the problem here.”

An empty laugh falls from you, the heel of your palm pressing to your forehead. “I have to study.”

“We’re not done here.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I think there is—”

“I have to study, Steve.”

“Fine,” he says, dipping his head. He turns to walk back down the hall, glancing over his shoulder when the creak of your bedroom door greets his ears. “Guess we’re already fighting like an old married couple. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.”

Your bedroom door slams, and he flinches, because he knows your words are true. He regrets what he said as soon as you disappear from his sight, and the sound of you crying drowns out the hard beat of his racing heart.

Guilt seeps into his veins as a half hour passes. Then another. And another. All of which is spent with him sitting in your kitchen contemplating what he can do to rectify the situation. Sighing, he calls his mother and asks for her suggestions. Her resounding laugh on the other end makes him feel like an even bigger idiot, but he’s left with the idea of a “grand gesture” apology. Something to make up for the fact he had, in fact, been an asshole.

It’s been quite some time since he’s made a home cooked meal, though he knows you tend to shop a bit here and there as of late. Luckily, there are enough things around the kitchen to make your penne dish, and he sets to work. Turns on the radio as he gets everything together and starts. Hums along to Al Green when the song switches and one of his begins.

Before long, the smell of sauce filters throughout the home, seemingly coaxing you from your hiding. He pauses when he hears you. Hears the soft sounds of your slippers hitting the tile, reddened eyes coming up to meet him where he’s cooking away at the stovetop.

Whirling around, his fingers slide along the apron around his waist—your waist—muttering, “I’m sorry I’m using your apron. I just—”

“You cook?”

He chuckles, nervously kneading the back of his neck with a palm. “I used to. Before…my dad. When I had a little more free time.”

“Oh.”

“I made your favorite,” he says, trying to not be too overly chipper. Seemingly to prove his point, he lifts the cover to the pot. You lean in closer, shoulder barely touching his. Shudder as he lifts a hand and brushes at the curve of your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole and you’re right and I’m sorry. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure with the company and—”

“It’s fine,” you say softly, shrugging. “I know what our marriage is and isn’t.”

And he hates that too. The fact you only look at him with disdain at present, hoodie you must have pulled on too big on your frame, shoulders slouching, sadness in your eyes. Hates that he’s to blame for putting it there. Placing the cover back on the pot, he turns fully to you. Grasps your palm in his, tests the weight of it against his skin. Watches your face for any reaction.

When you don’t flinch or pull away he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think and I should have texted you. You’re still my friend and I’m sorry that I just assumed that would be okay.”

You nod slowly. Exhale shakily, brushing at your eyes. “I just…today was really hard. And I don’t know—I know it’s silly but…”

You wanted him there. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say, because he’s often felt it too. The awareness of your presence, even when he can’t spend time with you or offer you more than a fleeting look to keep you at a distance and protect his heart, is still a comfort he can’t quite place.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, looping an arm around your shoulders. Your face presses into his chest, one of your arms coming to curl around his waist. “I’m really sorry.”

“I watched a family say goodbye to their best friend today,” you mumble out against his skin, and the brokenness in your voice as you try to keep the tears at bay has him holding you tighter. “Fifteen years and all those memories. They held him as he crossed the rainbow bridge and I just—”

“Shhh.” His palm comes up to slide along the middle of your back as you start to cry into him. “And I was an asshole,” he adds, chest tightening in his sorrow over seeing you hurt this way. Over the top of your head, he wipes at his burning eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to do that today, and I’m sorry I pushed you.

You pull back a little in his arms. Back of your hands wiping your tears away, you inhale deeply, then exhale the same. “I can’t live the next three years like this. Like two people who just…exist in the same space together but don’t interact.”

“I know,” he agrees.

“Something needs to change.”

“I know.” You’re back against his chest, both arms now snug around his waist, keeping him close. “I’m open to any suggestions, because…I think at the very least we need to be friends.”

“You are my friend, Steve. I just wish you were more present.”

“I will be,” he promises, cradling the back of your head with a broad palm.

“Okay…then I think we have weekly nights in. Like this, where one of us cooks,” you suggest against his shirt, voice muffled by fabric.

“Done.”

“Phone and laptop need to be away completely on those days.”

“…Done.” He can do that. “And on other days?”

“If you can be off the phone at a certain time, maybe we could actually, I don’t know, spend some nights together? Even if it’s just watching Gilmore Girls or a movie with me.”

He snorts, knowing you’ve been rewatching the show lately on the nights you’re not holed up studying. “I’ll tell the office after I pick up my wife from school I’m off for the evening. Anything else?”

“No.” You shake your head, slipping free from his grasp. “I think that’s a good start. And I think you groveling by making me my favorite dinner is another good start.”

He barks out a laugh at that and languishes in the smile that tips your lips upward, knowing he, to some degree, put it there. “I called my mom and everything.”

“Oh no! You were scared I was going to murder you in your sleep,” you chuckle, lifting the cover to the pot and taking a deep breath.

“Can you blame me?”

“Guess not,” you tease, hopping up onto the countertop. “Hey, Steve?”

He steps closer to where you’re sitting, his thigh brushing against your bare kneecap. Your fingers reach for his left hand, dragging it to rest it against your lap, thumb running along his wedding ring. He’s not sure why, but the very act itself has him a little breathless, eyes trailing where your thumb brushes against the metal. Then higher, toward your face, the way your eyelashes gently kiss the tops of your cheeks as you glance down to where the two of you are connected.

“I also think we need to…do things like this more.” Your palm squeezes around him for emphasis. “Define the parameters of touch, so it’s not so jarring when we’re out in the real world and trying to look like a real couple. Kind of like how it was in front of Amber and Danny the other day. If people are going to believe us, we can’t have more of those situations popping up.”

“Okay…” He takes another step closer. “What might that look like to you? I want whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“When we’re out in public in front of your coworkers, I wouldn’t mind if you…I don’t know? Hold me against you. Maybe a kiss on the forehead. A peck. I feel like those are good starts.”

“I can do that,” he says, giving your hand another squeeze for reassurance. “In front of friends, like your classmates, what I did the other day was fine?”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes meeting his hazel ones. “What about when we’re home?”

“I think at the very least a hug when we’re both home,” he suggests. “Friends hug, don’t they?”

“They do.” You nod.

He cards his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. “Again, I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been…distant since we got home, and I understand that the next three years won’t work if I keep doing that. You don’t deserve that, and I never, ever intended to make you cry.”

You glance down at your intertwined hands, and Steve feels the breath in his lungs hitch, until you tip your head up again and murmur, “Can I cash in on another hug? For practice, naturally.”

He’s already slipping between the space you’ve made for him with your thighs, drawing you flush against him, cradling the back of your head. Hopes you can feel the breadth and depth of his words through touch.

“For practice.”

He can feel you smile against his shoulder and suddenly his chest tightens with a feeling he has no name for. Just knows it sparks something warm, like sweet honey, in his blood.

“But do it again and you might not see the morning.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

There, in that kitchen, with dinner simmering and his arms around you, Steve exhales. Because he’s given a new start, a turning page on a hard day in your short marriage. A new start.

And he doesn’t know why, but something shifts.

The mere thought terrifies him.

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington modern au #fake husband!steve harrington

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years

Text

The following very feral, horny shit is all thanks to @howdoyousleep3 because-

I. Have. Thoughts. About. Golfing. Christopher. Robert. Evans. First, though I must (sort of) explain what the fuck my thought process was:

The kickstart was K’s reblog on these Evans Golfing Photos with specifically the tag “#that arm vein 😭”

This tag fucking awoke something in me because I didn’t see it before because my eyes were dilated after going in for my yearly eye exam but also because I was so busy looking at (a) his hand and (b) the grey patches in his beard on his stupidly handsome face. But anyway-

a r m v e i n

Because, of course, instantly after flicking my eyes back up to that fucking photo (because K has great timing and reblogged it once the dilation had mostly worn off so I could, in fact, see again haha) my brain was all *nearly incoherent chanting* forearm vein… forearms�� forearm muscles… forearm muscles flexing and moving those thick fingers… those thick fingers in that fucking golfer’s glove fucking fingering Sebastian while he’s still got the glove on 🥴🥴

And then I just-

I could clearly not help but think about that white, leather glove covering those fingers. That gloved hand being put to good use… good use thrusting and twisting and stretching Sebastian’s hole- working his hole out for Chris’ cock perhaps? Or maybe just fingering him for the purpose of playing with his body, teasing him, and making him feel good? Either way, I just could not help but think of DILF Evans with his Sebastian in a chokehold as poor, overwhelmed Seb is face down and ass up, making Seb gasp and squirm and turn bright, bright red at the whole fucking thing- the whole fucking using your golf glove not for your clubs but for me, smooth and thick and so different than just your bare fingers when it’s inside me. So embarrassing but also, oh, God, don’t you dare fucking stop because it feels so good.

Oh, and you know what else I thought about-?

I bet the leather of that glove also 100% makes Chris’ fingers feel just a tiny bit thicker than normal which shouldn’t be driving Sebastian crazy but it is. It really fucking is. He’s always had something of a size kink anyway and this is exploiting it.

And what’s also driving him crazy is seeing his man dressed up all expensive. Dressed to look the part of golfers: dressed to look like he’s got money. Not just any type of money but old generational wealth… passed down to him so he must’ve grown up in country clubs, silver spoon always in his mouth, summer time meaning global vacations, tutors rather than public school teachers, and… yeah.

(Not to even mention how dizzy Seb is for the fact that Chris smells like expensive cologne and sweat and sunscreen after being out in the sun all afternoon.)

Which… those feral thoughts from above inspired me further when in combination with K’s effect of adding age differences and daddy kinks (which I fucking love her for) and…

Just imagine this with me:

College Student Sebastian with Sugar Daddy Chris

Sebastian has worked his way through college ever since the summer before his freshman year and this summer is no different, he’s working full time when he doesn’t have classes through the summer term except…

It is different this year because somehow he got hired on at the country club a good 45 minutes away from his college town and, hell, the pay is more than worth the price of the commute from campus. Although Sebastian, when he finally learned he landed the job, was seriously considering if they accidentally called him and told him the news by mistake rather than one of the other applicants. What made him qualified to be in their proper, prim, polished facilities? What qualified him to be earning that amount of cash (not, like, a crazy amount… just way, way more than Sebastian has ever seen working fast food or retail or any other starter job)? Much less, what made him qualified to assist the type of guests that would attend a country club? Sebastian doesn’t have a fucking clue, he’s just grateful for the job.

And he tries (very hard) to remember how grateful he felt at the time of hire when it’s the middle of fucking summer and it’s hot as balls and he’s outside driving golf carts (not as fun as you would expect when they’ve all been modded to cap the speed, so you can’t go over 20 miles per hour and additionally become less and less fun when you have to cart around people who have such traditional political values and are so out of touch with the rest of the non-wealthy population that it makes you want to hit your head against the steering wheel or crash the damn thing into one of the water traps). It’s also hard to feel grateful when he’s outside in the heat lugging around golf club bags for the guests, acting as a caddie but with, apparently, much slower reaction time than they’re used to since he’s often snapped at for not getting the correct club out of their bag as fast as they would like. Whatever. He got, what, two hours of training on which club is which and what it does and most the rest of his training on proper manners (ugh), what he is allowed to wear when on the job (not a uniform because that’s tacky but damn near close with the number of restrictions), and how they treat their guests (way too fucking nice).

The pool looks like heaven more and more every time they come in off the golf course, back to the main buildings. Sebastian often debates himself inside his head if crashing the pool at the end of the day, or between shifts of assisting guests, is worth his job. It’s not. It’s better money at the country club than anywhere else by a cushioned margin. He needs the money, wincing just thinking about his loans. And if he’s not thinking about his loans, he’s thinking about how goddamn bored he is because-

What even is golf?

You hit a ball around and passively aggressively talk about business deals while chasing it? If you’re good though… Sebastian supposes to don’t have to chase it that much. Either way, it’s not enjoyable to watch or listen to, so Sebastian cannot imagine that they’re guests enjoying themselves. But, whatever. They keep coming and they keep paying him- sometimes tipping him (although usually if someone tips, they do it while shaking his hand, crushing a crisp bill into the palm of his sweaty hand, and insulting him at the same time, saying something about good on him for working hard for his dollar, boy, or whatever else undermining thing they creatively come up with).

But...

Sebastian is not bored out of his skull on the day that he sees him.

Not at all bored as he walks up to greet this afternoon’s party of guests. They’ve booked up the rest of the evening, hours longer than usual patrons do, although, Sebastian supposes the time isn’t just booked for golfing so maybe they came to golf and have dinner or drinks? Whatever. The point is that Sebastian is not bored or dreading the amount of time he will have to spend with them because he sees him. And his eyes have a feast.

He stands at the edge of the group, talking animatedly with another member of the group. And the man is easily six feet tall - looking every bit like the tall, cold glass of water Sebastian needs when he’s out this heat - and so impossibly handsome. He’s somewhere between the ages of the normal guests, seemingly always rich kids playing in the pool noisily or trying to sneak sips of their parent's drinks (as if that’s the worst substance they’ll probably get their hands on underage) or trying to get back to the poker tables OR there’s the other side of the spectrum of their guests: the aforementioned kids' grandparents. Meaning: older white men with younger women (who are pretending to be younger still) hanging off of their arm(s). Typically the men are in their sixties or (usually) older with beer guts and fading hair and pretend accents.

This guy…

This guy is… older? Not a child, no fucking way. But not that old, doubly no fucking way.

He has a salt and pepper beard, concentrated in these two patches at the sides of his chin which are both blisteringly hot and adorable at the same time somehow. Also though, the hair around his temples is just starting to go grey as well, fading out into soft brown, glimpsed by Sebastian when he adjusts his hat. He looks… mature. His exact age is difficult to place especially because his eyes are hidden under aviators (even though they’re inside, alright, Mr. Rockstar), so he can’t see how intense his crow’s feet are. But, his lips speak of more youth than the grey in his hair would suggest.

Over the rest of the day, Sebastian has to continually rip his eyes away from those lips, especially his bottom lip. Plush and fat. His upper lip is vaguely overshadowed by his beard in the best way. It looks like it might be tickly. Sebastian shivers despite the heat, looking at it. He wants to know. He wants to know how his lips and his beard would feel. Please.

Beyond his face - or at least what Sebastian can see of his face under his cap, glasses, and beard - with his plush lips and sharp cheekbones and jaw, the rest of him is outrageously attractive too. His white shorts are belted around his impossible waist, falling higher above his knees than all the rest of the men’s shorts. Not… it’s not that they’re outrageously short or anything, they’re still appropriate for the environment, but when he sits down in the passenger seat of Sebastian’s cart soon enough… God, Sebastian has to bite his lip to stifle the little sound he wants to make. The shorts hike up even higher at the same time that his thighs spread on the seat. Making his thighs thicker.

Oh.

Forcing his eyes up and turning the key in the ignition, Sebastian finds that his simple (but still expensive, thanks to that logo) black polo is open around his throat. Open and exposing flashes of his collarbones and his light amount of chest hair and… oh, dear God, his ink. He has tattoos. Under that polished, perfect exterior of white shoes, white socks, white shorts, a black belt, a black polo, and a golfer’s glove with black leather for the palm and white leather for the back of the hand- tying his whole outfit together. Under that he’s got at least two tattoos. One of the tattoos is script and the other is a large image of something. Sebastian spots the hints of ink and almost crashes the cart out of sudden onset stupidity, not out of frustration about who controls the state of the world for once. He can’t tell if he prefers the change or not.

And worst of all, so close next to him the man smells expensive. Clean. Expensive. Cologne that has to be worth more than Sebastian’s entire outfit. Well deserved in price though. It smells good. Sebastian isn’t going to rule out the possibility that there are some fucking pheromones in it or something, seducing Seb subconsciously.

Then… when Mr. tall-drink-of-water does open his mouth and-

Shit.

He has a softened accent, not the almost British but going for upper-class-posh stuffy and fake accent some of the older men have, but an accent familiar to his east coast migrant ears. Boston. He’s from around there. Not too intense, just a nice purr that wraps like velvet around every word that he speaks to Sebastian. Because he’s weird. He speaks to Sebastian, not at Sebastian.

“What’s your name?” He asks over the hum of the cart, saying it like he really wants to know, leaning in closer. Just trying to hear him probably. Just trying to be polite. Probably. Right?

“Sebastian.”

“Mm, Sebastian,” he parrots. Seb tries not to shudder at the way his name sounds coming out of his mouth, “that’s a unique name.”

“Th-thanks?” He’s still struck dumb so it takes a moment for him to return the question, “and you’re Mr-?”

“Chris.”

“Mr. Chris,” Sebastian repeats his name too, he’s not heard that as a last name before but he’s no stranger to first names as last names. Just look at his own. Stan. Not exactly the usual last name.

The older man lightly hits his upper bicep with the back of a gloved hand and goosebumps break out across Sebastian’s body, “just Chris. Mr. Evans is my father.” God, he can really hear the Boston in that word: fah-ther.

Sebastian ducks his head in embarrassment, mostly, honestly, hearing static when Chris also points out to the other guys (most of them obviously older than him, but a few his own age) stacked on the back of Seb’s cart and the other two caddies’.

Sebastian does not catch the others' names then or even later. He is too preoccupied watching Chris (taking Chris in, if he's honest) and lugging three bags instead of one or two as per usual. He’s gonna go back to college buff as hell and tan as hell. Those are perks. (The third (best) perk of course is the small chunk he’s taken off of his debt with his summer paychecks.) He has to remember the perks as motivation. Well. He has three bags of clubs and then Chris comes over and grabs his own, hauling it despite Sebastian’s own protests.

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s too hot for you to be doing that, ’m not shy, I got my own, don’t worry, don’t worry,” he says.

And, well, it leaves Seb tongue-tied and weak. He lets Chris take it from him. The sweetheart makes Sebastian turn the same shade as he would if he were badly sunburned. It also makes him completely shut up rather than fumble with his words.

And, Christ, fun fucking fact (re: fun in the way of it makes Seb play the game called hold-in-your-moans-and-don’t-choke-or-else with himself), this fucking outrageously attractive guy, Chris-not-Mr-Evans, grunts with every first stroke 😳 Every first stroke of his driver on the golf course. His form is immaculate (especially when viewing from behind) and strong, his shoulders and arms unreal. And a grunt comes out of his mouth every time with the force of the hit. And his mouth also twists into a line of serious, sharp focus that is more than attractive.

Later, Chris sinks his ball into the hole from fairly far away on the green and is so caught up in his conversation with one of the men his own age, passionately talking, loud and booming, fast, and Sebastian takes it on himself to walk over and fish the ball out. Bending over to do so, of course. Chris has previously talked him out of doing it since he already has two others to worry about. But this time he does it. Chris is busy. He’s just trying to be helpful by, y’know, doing his job. Although, this time he’s mostly sure - he can’t be 100% with the shades he has on covering his eyes and all - that Chris is staring at his ass when he catches on to what he’s doing. But(t) if anyone should be staring at anyone’s ass, it should be Sebastian. Chris’ shorts are…

They’re something alright, white and short and tight 🤤

Other infuriating things throughout the afternoon include:

Chris’ habit of using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his nose, lifting his shirt up enough that Sebastian gets an eyeful of his tummy.

Chris’ propensity for sticking tees in his mouth rather than just holding them (or asking your caddie to hold them for you) like a normal human being.

Also his habit of putting his grip glove into his mouth when he wants to use his phone, sticking his index finger between his teeth and biting gently while he slides his hand out of it. Practically striking a pose. Model worthy. Although, it might be worse to watch him put that glove back on, the leather white and black and seemingly just a tiny bit too small because every time Chris puts it on he tugs it on from the bottom, flexing his fingers from a flat hand to a fist, back and forth. Working it over his thick fingers and thicker knuckles. The veins in his arms popping more with the movement of it. It makes Sebastian want to drool.

The thing he does when he swallows a few gulps of water, here and there when others are taking their shots… always drinking with his head back, throat bobbing, when in front of Sebastian. Sebastian might be melting. Melting in two different ways when Chris asks eventually, “you got water too, right, sweetheart?” And punching his shoulder afterward once more as if the bro-ish touch cancels out the homoeroticism of calling your caddie sweetheart and worrying about if he has enough water or not.

Chris is also just a good fucking golfer, not the best, of course, he’s talking business and goofing around with the guys he’s got with him in equal parts. So he’s not the best. Definitely not the best Seb has ever seen, some people are so rich they have only time to waste, but Sebastian finds himself actually being impressed by Chris. Impressed by something he’s otherwise been calloused from noticing. He’s whipped but… in a lustful way. Just lust. Right? He’s narrowing down his unprofessionalism to just one sin today.

By the time the game ends and they’re readying to go back, Chris makes a joke shot with some of the others, goofing around now that scores have been tallied. But his joke shot sends the ball flying off into the rough (because of the strength in those muscles- hnnng) rather than just a short ways away from the green but still on the course. Sebastian, if he weren’t too busy staring at Chris’ body, in his shorts and tight shirt, would have the brain power to think it’s a setup. Intentional? Maybe? Because Chris calls over to his friends and business partners, “the caddie and I will catch up. You go on ahead. Order a round for everybody,” and they just laugh and wave him off, packing up, excited by the proximity of drinks and dinner. They don’t even bat an eye. Sebastian is shocked. Chris’ behavior, flirty and nicer than anyone has ever been to him when on the job, hasn’t been subtle. Won’t they be suspicious? Because- isn’t..? Isn’t it weird to make a shot that separates you from the rest of the group so it’s just two people alone? So you can take advantage of being alone?

Is that what is happening? Surely, it’s not that- that being what Sebastian wants. Time away from others’ prying eyes with Chris. No…

Is it?

Is that happening?

If not that then what is happening?

Because Chris leans against the cart, not even pretending to rest or take a drink from his water bottle and not offering to get his ball himself like he has during any other part of the day… he just… stands there and undeniably watches Sebastian’s ass as he scurries off to where the ball went flying It is his job after all but it doesn’t feel like his job right then. Not just his job.

Something has to be happening. There’s something in the air between them. Electric and tense.

Sebastian tries to make it look like he doesn’t know what’s happening (is something happening?), denying his own want to sway his hips some and stick his ass out while bending at the waist rather than just normally crouching to grab the ball. No. He makes himself crouch.

He walks back as normal as he possibly can without knowing where Chris is looking at him, those sunglasses keeping his secret. He’s definitely looking at him though. Where exactly he’s looking is the only question.

Chris stays silent.

Chris watches him place the ball back in the collection bag which is then placed back in his caddy bag and still stays silent. Not using any words even as he offers Sebastian his pitching wedge, watching just the same as he puts that in the bag too.

Sebastian can’t help but grunt as he hefts the bag up into the cart from the green. Chris’ eyes hot on his back.

He turns around, readying himself to ask, ready to go back? without his voice cracking but when he sees the smirk on Chris’ face… all he does is stutter. Just like he didn’t want to.

“I haven’t actually seen much of the grounds here, I’ve only been to this club once or twice,” Chris says, adjusting his sunglasses and then stroking his bearded jaw, “care to give me a quick tour?”

Oh.

“But your fri-”

“They can wait.” He says, blunt and confident.

His voice makes Sebastian’s insides twist up hotly. It sounds like an order for them to wait for him. Anyone else saying it would make Sebastian’s lip curl, finding it arrogant but with Chris… Chris is the exception as he intentionally moves his head enough to let Seb know he’s looking him up and down. He wants Sebastian to know he’s checking him out. Playing obvious.

Sebastian shivers.

And then shivers noticeably again when Chris asks, “how far out does the course go anyway? It seems like it gets pretty remote, huh? Not a lot of players out there?” He chuckles at Sebastian’s reaction, even as he’s trying to play it cool.

“Uh-huh.”

“You okay with showing me?”

Sebastian watches an eyebrow peak out over the top of his sunglasses, his head tilting. And if that isn’t a covert way to ask Sebastian if he is consenting to take Chris to the furthest corner of the grounds to do… stuff-? Then he doesn’t know what is.

He inhales shakily, thinking for a moment, is this possible hook up really worth my job? But, of course, the answer is hell yes. He hasn’t even seen this guy’s whole face but he’s entirely, completely the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He has to. The guy screams big dick energy. Anyone would in a heartbeat. If offered. “Y-yeah.”

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.”

They load up into the cart.

And after about two seconds Chris scoots closer to Sebastian. Too close to be casual but it’s that point in the evening/late afternoon where everyone is either done with golf for the day or they’re on break for dinner, so it’s not like they’ll get caught.

“You’re real pretty, you know that?” Chris rumbles, voice seemingly darker and deeper when they’re closer together. Intimate.

Sebastian flushes red, staring hard ahead.

“Aww, look at that,” Chris murmurs, teasing, lifting a hand to touch Sebastian’s cheek. It’s not his bare skin. It’s his gloved hand. Somehow that makes it worse. Like, how is it possible that he hasn’t even touched this guy, he hasn’t even seen his whole face, and yet he’s so, so attracted to him? Melting like dropped ice cream on a sidewalk in the summer.

Sebastian makes a sound like he’s dying in the back of his throat, having his cheek and jaw caressed, because he is dying and just fucking trying to not crash and kill Chris too. That’d be a hell of a lawsuit for the club.

“You’re so pretty,” he says it again, it doesn’t make Sebastian blush any less, “why’re you out here in the hot sun, sweetheart? Why’re you dressed up like a caddie, when, goddamn, sugar, you could be inside as the entertainment? Making twice your dollar with a lot less work, just lookin’ at people with those big eyes and serving ‘em drinks. They’d tip you real good, y’know that, right?” Chris purrs, leaning in even closer. One of his huge hands lands on his thigh, heavy and warm, gripping him in a way that makes Sebastian’s nerves spark. Nearly shorting out.

Sebastian is burning up on the inside. They couldn’t get to the edge of the grounds faster. Why the hell did the carts have to be this slow?!

“Soooo pretty,” he strings it out, voice gruff and quiet, hand moving up and down on his thigh. Petting him.

Sebastian makes another weak sound. He would switch from caddie to server in a heart beat if all the attention he got was from men like Chris or rather- just Chris.

Chris grins when he flashes him a quick wide-eyed but turned-on look. His gorgeous smile is shit-eating and his voice firm, “say thank you.”

Oh, God.

“Th-thank you,” Sebastian’s breath gets caught in his chest, heart pounding.

Chris clears his throat. Practically saying go on.

“Thank you for-” Christ, he can’t even say it, burning bright red, “-thank you for calling me pretty, Chris.”

“Good,” another full-body shudder goes through Seb, then even more heat. “Good boy,” he seals Sebastian’s fate with those two words. Ngh. His muscles tense, forcing him to step on the gas harder than he wants to.

And nothing but thick, electric tension exists for the rest of the drive. Chris doesn’t talk. But he doesn’t stop stroking his thigh either. Every pass of his large, warm hand comes higher and higher up on his leg, closer and closer to his almost fully hard dick. If he would just-

“Damn,” Chris chuckles as they come to a stop, “it’s like a different world out here.”

Sebastian makes himself nod, heart beating out of his chest, lower lip caught between his teeth. He absolutely did not park half hidden by bushes. Not on purpose. Nope.

Chris doesn’t even look around them. He turns to the side and orders, “c’mere.”

All he can do is obey.

Sliding closer. Shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Sweat on his skin has started to stick his clothes to his body, even more so than normal, standing and walking and working all summer outside apparently has nothing on the heat of his man.

“No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sliding an arm between Sebastian and the seat of the cart, “I meant like this-”

His arms flex and pull Sebastian into his lap.

Oh.

Seb’s breath leaves him in a rush. A little too fast. It makes his vision spotty.

Under his hands, Chris’ shoulders feel even bigger and broader and stronger than they look. His thighs are better than the golf cart seat. Up close he can almost see through his sunglasses… but his lips. His lips gather all of Sebastian’s attention.

“You want a kiss, sweetheart?”

He nods jerkily.

“You think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes?”

“Good answer.” Chris’ hand envelops the back of his neck, pulling him down… getting their faces close together, but not connecting their lips. Not yet. “You want it?” He whispers. His breath smells like mint. Mouths so close yet so far apart.

Teasing him intentionally, Sebastian’s sure.

And a noise, soft and high, falls out of Sebastian’s parted-in-anticipation lips. “Yes,” he takes the lesson he was given earlier, asking for it better, “yes, Chris. Please. Kiss me?”

Chris kisses him.

Oh.

Their lips meeting is so much better than Seb even imagined. Full and hot. And all through it, his hand lays heavy on the back of his neck, squeezing and making sure that Seb is only along for the ride, melting him in his lap. Eyes shut. Heat tightening in his gut. Sparking and going up in flames when Chris licks his lower lip and then bites. Sebastian gasps. Chris licks into his mouth. It feels like a claim. Sebastian’s head bumps the brim of his hat, so he takes it off, tossing it in the driver’s seat next to him.

He’s the best kisser Sebastian has ever had the pleasure of locking lips with. Better than any of his college-age peers. More experienced and mature. God.

Chris tastes like breath mints. He feels good. He feels like gym-honed strength; big under Sebastian’s hands, muscles shifting. There is no confusion about who is in charge even though Chris is underneath him.

Chris pulls him away by the hold he has on his neck, almost like he’s scruffing a kitten. He whines and is embarrassed to say that his eyes stay closed a little too long. Savoring it. Lips buzzing, lungs reluctant to breathe Chris out. Standing on shaky ground.

“That good, huh, pretty?” He asks, running his fingers through his gorgeously messy hair, incidentally showing off his arm in the process.

Sebastian shivers.

“Am I that good or are you just deprived, sweet thing?” He muses out loud, hand cupping Seb’s jaw, his thumb fitting into the cleft of Sebastian’s chin. Watching closely as Seb licks his lips. Unable to help himself. “That it? You just need someone to take care of you?”

Sebastian whines.

“Yeah…” he chuckles, amused, and turned on, “you need someone to make sure you’re drinking your water, make sure you’re not working yourself too hard, and make sure getting what you need, don’t’cha?”

Wide-eyed still, sitting in Chris’ lap, Sebastian has no words. How-? How does he already know so much about Sebastian? What?

“Mmm-hmm, I see you,” he purs, Sebastian practically swoons, “you need someone to make sure you’re getting what you need right here-” as he says it he goes in for the kill, his hand slipping from his hip to the front of his shorts, grabbing his dick through the fabric.

“Guh-!” Sebastian makes a stupid sound, not expecting the touch.

And it’s a double gut punch with the way Chris chuckles, dark, “yeah, you need a daddy, sugar. You need somebody to take care of you.”

There is nothing that can keep Sebastian from choking out, “D-daddy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, tell me who I am.”

Sebastian feels fucking faint, gasping, “Daddy.”

“Mmm-hmm, that’s right,” he squeezes him more, his dick and the hand on his jaw, holding him tight and close, “you want Daddy to help you? You gonna let ‘im take care a’ you?”

“Please.” He says, unthinking, before he stutters, realizing that’s not an answer- “please, I want Daddy.”

“That’s what I thought,” his grin only grows wider, sharper, “an’ ya’know what else I think? I think this back here needs a little workout-” the hand Chris has on his dick moves back over his hip, then back again, cupping his ass (and, Christ, his hands are so big that it feels like all of his right asscheek fits into his palm), and rubbing the center seam line on his shorts. Over where his hole is, clenching on nothing. “You want Daddy to feed it-?”

All of Sebastian’s air leaves his chest.

“-Keep you in line by makin’ sure you get what you need so you don’t go actin’ out, bratting for it because you’re so hungry. So starved for it. Can’t have that.”

“Ca-can’t, Daddy.”

“Mmm-hmm, that’s right, sugar. Gotta take care of you. Daddy’s gotta keep you good for him. You gonna let me?”

“Yes! Yes, please, Daddy. Please-!” Sebastian is more than embarrassed but it doesn’t matter because he’s also more than turned on. More than fucking here for getting off like this.

“Shh, shhhh, don’t worry about it, baby,” he hushes his pleading. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel better. Daddy’s gonna give you everything you need.”

His words wash over Sebastian like velvet. Exorbitantly expensive velvet that’s softer than anything, sensationally divine.

“But first, you’re gonna have to get up and get somethin’ for me, can you do that for Daddy, sweet thing?”

“Yeah- yes, Daddy.” He says it without thinking.

“There’s some hand lotion for after games in my golf bag. I want you to get it for Daddy. Daddy’s got plans for it that involve you…”

“Oh, yes, yeah, I can-” there’s a question on the tip of his tongue even as he agrees but more of his brain is thinking about all the good uses for hand lotion rather than the logistics of- hand lotion? Really? Is that… safe?

Daddy sees through it though because he knows important things like that. Purring, “don’t worry, sugar, it’s safe to go inside this pussy a’ yours-” he grips his ass to emphasize “-otherwise I wouldn’t’ve offered. I’m no stranger to spit, sweetheart. Unless, a’course, you wanna use just spit? Want Daddy to get you nice and wet?”

Sebastian’s brain breaks out into white-hot heat, ears ringing, upon hearing his body referred to as… as that. But thankfully he is able to tune back in to hear the last part and squeak out, “no, no- I, I’m good. I’ll get it.”

“You are good. Daddy’s good boy.”

Sebastian trips over his own feet getting up off his lap; thankfully he doesn’t face-plant and embarrass himself beyond repair.

“Careful, sugar.”

Sebastian finds and snatches the little tube of lotion, unscented and almost completely full. It’s a brand that Sebastian recognizes like we knew the logo on Chris’ shirt- high end. Expensive.

“C’mere, don’t be shy,” he rasps, pulling Seb back into his lap from next to the golf cart- he had to get out since the bag is sitting in the back.

He’s taken off his sunglasses.

Sebastian has to stop and stare for a moment. He’s very, very handsome. Pretty even. So fucking unbelievably handsome that he’s pretty and Seb didn’t know that was a thing but… oh, God, it is. It really is. He’s speechless.

Chris pulls him in for a kiss, deep and scorching hot.

Against his jaw, breaking their kiss to mouth at his jaw than his throat, tipping his head back in a way that’s unfairly attractive in the confidence it takes to move him where he wants him, commanding him, Chris murmurs, almost talking to himself more than Sebastian, “‘s a cryin’ shame I don’t carry condoms with me, ‘cause Daddy’d love to slide himself inside your tight pussy.” He sighs.

Sebastian gasps, eyes shut tight as Chris works down his throat. Lips to the sensitive, thin skin. Seb can feel how hard his pulse is throbbing and he imagines Chris can feel it too. Just as he begins to question, why get lotion if he’s not going to get fucked (and subsequently getting disappointed that he’s not going to get a dick inside him), Chris answers-

Breath hot and humid on his collarbone, “can’t fuck you without a condom, we just met today, sugar, but…” he sinks his teeth into his flesh. Sebastian moans. Chris bites him harder like he wants him to moan louder but at the same time reminds him he’d better be quiet because anyone could be around and hear them. It only makes Sebastian want to make more noise, but he stifles the next few the best he can instead. Because Daddy said to be quiet and be good.

He can be good.

Daddy finishes his earlier thought, “can’t fuck you but Daddy can make you feel good with his fingers, can’t he? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Already know you’d like something in your pussy, could see it on your face when I told you I had lotion… you always need something in that pretty little hole when you get off, sweetheart?” He repeats, “do you?” when Sebastian doesn’t answer. So many of his other questions have been rhetorical, he didn’t know that was one to actually answer!

“No- not all the time.”

“Ohhh, not all the time?” Chris repeats, acting like he’s cute or a little bit stupid for answering so quietly, talking down to him in the most wonderful way. “You don’t always get off thinking about being stuffed full of fingers or cock?”

“N-no,” his answer is much weaker this time. The heat inside him might be enough to make him combust. No fingers or cock required. Shit.

“But now you’re thinkin’ about it-” he’s so cocky as he says it. And he has every right to be. Because he’s right. He’s putting lots of images in Sebastian’s head “-now you’re thinking about what you’ve been missing out on, huh? I bet you are. Thinkin’ about all the times you’ve just jerked off without anything fillin’ you up and missed that reeal good orgasm that cumming with a stuffed cunt gives you.”

Sebastian whimpers.

“Why’ve you been depriving yourself, sugar?” He looks at Sebastian with fucking puppy dog eyes. Looking at him like it hurts him that Seb hasn’t been giving himself the best orgasms he can every time he gets off. “You don’t gotta do that. Lookit that face, honey. You could go out anywhere, any time of the day, and get yourself a man to take home and give you what you need. Not that any ol’ guy would do what Daddy can-”

A full-body shudder attacks Sebastian.

He laughs, “that’s right. No one would give it to you like Daddy’s gonna give it to you. ‘M gonna be the only one that can feed your hungry cunt right. You’ll see, c’mon,” he slaps his hip, “take off your shorts.”

Sebastian wiggles his shorts down just below his ass, then his underwear too; feeling hotter and even more squirmy inside when he watches Chris’ eyes darken impossibly more when he gets his hands on his bare skin. His hand, groping and squeezing his bare ass, because his other hand-

When-?

When did he get his other hand slick with lotion and-?

“Oh-” Sebastian shudders as his fingertip, slick and warm, rubs circles around his hole. It’s been a while since he’s done anything to himself there, even longer since he’s been fucked. And Chris’ fingers are large. But not just his fingers…

Jesus Christ. This is going to wreck him.

“You like how that feels baby, nice smooth leather, huh?”

Sebastian squeaks, curling forward out of mortification. Hiding his burning face in Chris’ shoulder and neck.

“Yeah... yeah, I bet you do,” his non-gloved hand pets up and down his back as he speaks, low and smooth, “you like it.”

Sebastian can’t lie. He can’t. “I- I like it,” he whines.

And not only does he fucking like it, he more than likes it. This is all so fucking hot that his body is opening up faster than normal, wanting him so bad. His fingertip moves from tight circles to pressing in, finding just how eager Sebastian is. Circling his hole. Pressing in. Circling it. Pressing in. Slow but unyielding until the half of his first finger is inside him. It stings a little but Sebastian likes it.

He likes it so much and only is liking it more as it slips deeper.

Fuller.

His toes curl in his shoes, God, his finger is so thick. He makes an obscene sound.

Chris smirks, loving it too, but for different reasons. “Can you tell it’s nice and expensive leather, sweetheart? Nice expensive leather being ruined with lotion in your little pussy... tsk tsk. You’re lucky Daddy’s being so nice to you, sugar. Treatin’ you well. Giving you a taste of the best.” Sebastian inhales weakly. He’s dizzy. “Something you never had before, sugar…” Chris’ first finger is all the way inside him now and he’s letting him get used to it, thrusting in and out with smooth motions at the same time that he’s teasing his rim with another finger. Sebastian wants the second finger so bad, crumbled onto Daddy’s chest. “Oh, baby,” he purrs, “Daddy’s gonna fucking ruin your taste. Gonna make you spoiled. Gonna give you only the best. Gonna treat this pussy right-”

Chris shows him exactly what he means by right when he finally gives him that second finger. Going with what his body needs. His body needs to be fuller. Fuller. His second finger next to the first is so much thicker. So much.

Seb whines, his cheeks flush. He’s imagining what he looks like at the same time that he’s being assaulted with Chris’ unfairly hot words… God, what they look like. Together. Chris sitting up, big and impressive with Sebastian curled up in his lap as nothing but a little pet or plaything. A pretty thing, as Chris keeps calling him, to play with. Thrusting his fingers in and out of him. Just for fun. Chris is fine. And Sebastian is wrecked. Shaking and clenching and making pathetic noises around the intrusion of one, two-

“Ngh-!”

Three fingers.

“Mmm-hmm,” Daddy encourages, enjoying everything he’s doing to him immensely, “you want that? You want Daddy to ruin everythin’ about you? Gonna ruin you for anyone else and gonna ruin your taste so all you like is the good, expensive shit?”

Three gloved fingers inside him-

White leather sliding unbearably smoothly into his pussy, teasing his walls and brushing intentionally just along his prostate without fully touching it, leaving him on the edge. Teased. White surrounded by pink. Both his pink, clenching pussy and Daddy’s glove shining with lube. Wet. Daddy’s making him wet and feeding his pussy exactly how he wants- leaving Sebastian moaning, trying (and failing) to muffle his sounds against his good-smelling skin and expensive shirt. Leaving his hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Leaving his toes curling in his shoes.

If he weren’t in Chris’ lap- Daddy’s lap and were forced to stand instead, he’d be falling to the ground.

“Uh-huh!” Sebastian agrees. He’d agree with anything Daddy says but also, God, yes, that sounds incredible. It sounds as good as he feels right now. Which is fucking incredible.

However just making him fall apart with his fingers isn’t enough, he has to continue to use that fucking mouth for evil, humming, “an’ forget holdin’ my clubs for me, sugar, I wanna take you home and make you hold my cock for me-”

Sebastian, even full as he is, split open on three fingers, wants that. Call him greedy but he wants that. He wants to be impaled on Daddy’s cock that he can feel hard and thick and massive where it’s tenting his tight shorts. He wants it. Bad.

“Yeah, you like that idea?” His grin is audible as he asks it. And nodding into his neck with frantic, hot agreement has Chris pulling him by the hair at the same time that he thrusts his fingers into him and punches his prostate so he moans with his mouth hanging wide open, eyelashes fluttering with his head now up. Chris watches him with dark, hungry eyes. “Say it,” he demands.

“D-daddy,” Sebastian gasps, eyes still shut.

Chris pulls his hair harder, “c’mon, sweetheart, it’s not that hard. Just say it.”

Sebastian knows he’s not talking about what he’s fucking packing in his shorts, but he is that hard there. He’s so hard and hot under Sebastian when he squirms. Stuttering, “I-I… I like that idea, Daddy.”

“Good.” Chris says to his face, leaning in to kiss him. Hard.

He kisses hard, he’s pulling his hair hard, he’s hard as fuck under him and-

“Ah!” Keeps hitting his prostate hard with his fucking gloved fingers.

“‘Course you like it. ‘Course you want it. I know what you like,” he shakes his head, jostling him with the grip he has on his hair. “Daddy could give you triple pay whatever you’re getting here to keep him in that gorgeous mouth while he works.”

Sebastian gasps.

“Not that I’d have to pay you. I bet you’d do it for free, ‘cause you want it so bad. You need it.”

Sebastian nods as much as he can, then moans when Chris lets go of him and allows his head to thunk back down against his broad shoulder. His forehead against the soft fabric of his shirt. His scalp sparkles, draining down his neck and pooling in his gut with the rest of his boiling hot arousal.

“Keeping me warm while I work until I get frustrated and need something to take it out on. Then I’ll haul you up, out from under my desk, and put you over it instead. Lay you out and lay into you. Fucking you until I’m done. Then I’ll slide a pretty plug back into that pretty hole and sit you right back under the desk where you belong ‘cause you’re just there for helping Daddy, right.”

“Y-yes!” He can hardly think, let alone talk around Chris’ fingers, fullfullfull and so good rubbing his prostate.

“Yeahh, just Daddy’s lil’pet. Taking it so well. Being so good.”

There is no way Sebastian can respond. All he can do is try not to die. He’s being fingered within an inch of his fucking life while he’s on the goddamn clock. He’s at his job! Hiding away in the most remote part of the golf course so he can get fingered. Christ, it’s like being a fucking high schooler again, mixed in with the theater and band kids at a getaway, hotel rooms divided by gender but in a way that’s smart because everyone’s queer anyway. Or, Christ, it’s like hooking up in the stage closet. In the dressing rooms and… maybe Sebastian should’ve considered that he might be an exhibitionist before now. Right now. When he’s ready to fucking cry because he wants to cum so bad. Hot for everything about this.

“Bet you’d feel so fuckin’ good inside, sweetheart, so fucking tight and wet. Smooth and hot, gripping Daddy’s cock like you don’t wanna let it go. Like you need it to live.” He mumbles it, focused mostly on fucking him with his fingers. He says it like it’s not for Sebastian but for his own sanity that he has to say the words out loud.

Oh.

Oh, right.

Daddy can’t feel what he feels like inside because he’s got his gloves on. He doesn’t-

He can’t-

He’s really just doing this for Sebastian he gets nothing out of this other than the knowledge that he’s wrecking Sebastian. He’s ruining him just to ruin him. Getting off on getting Sebastian off. Treating him right. Spoiling him.

Sebastian is frantic.

So close.

“‘M s’close, Daddy!” He sobs into Chris’ shirt. “Close-!”

And he doesn’t know what possesses him to ask, but he has to ask-

“Can? Nnngh! Can I, I, please, cum? Daddy! Wanna- I, I need! I need to cum! Please?”

Daddy rumbles. Low in his chest. It vibrates through Sebastian. His fingers speed up inside Sebastian. They hit his prostate harder. His fourth finger, his pinkie teases his entrance. Threatening to stuff him fuller. Adding onto Sebastian’s straining already. Please. Please. He just wants to fucking cum. He wants-

He’ll do anything to-

“Cum.” Daddy demands.

Sebastian’s orgasm hits him like a freight train. There is no time to hit the breaks. Only full force collides against him and instantly he’s done for. Instantly he’s there. Exploding with pleasure, twitching and shaking and moaning. Seeing nothing but white hot fireworks that void out his entire world. He’s drooling onto Daddy’s shirt and probably getting him messy with his release but he can’t stop it. He can hardly wrap his brain around what’s happening to him, hanging on with white-knuckled fingers and tight muscles.

Panting like he’s dying, Seb relaxes against Chris. Suddenly embarrassed by the ferocity of his orgasm. He just got off on that, like, so hard.

Chris is petting his hair and back. Not making fun of him, not that Sebastian expected him to, he’s been so nice to him the entire time but…

He squirms in his lap.

Chris is still VERY hard underneath him.

Chris sighs, pleasant, “lemme know when you’re ready to move again, ‘kay, sweetheart.”

Seb groans. He doesn't want to.

Chris laughs, “I’d offer to drive the cart back and take you right to my car so the chauffeur can take us home but… I think that might be an even more obvious walk of shame than the one we’re already gonna have to do. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to drive the cart as a guest.”

Sebastian is ashamed to say that his cock twitches a little at the idea that Chris is so fucking rich that he didn’t even drive himself to a country club. He has a chauffeur to do it for him instead. But any second-wind arousal is mostly tampered down by the realization that, oh, yeah, he has to go back to his job after this. Fuck. He’s so getting fucking fired. At least he got to have the best sex of his life before the rest of his life is over...

And later, yes, of course, they get together. Not just so Sebastian can stay under Chris’ desk, his little cock warmer, and get paid for it…

I’m imagining that they start a real relationship with actual feelings for each other but that it looks like a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship from the outside because Chris insists on paying for Seb’s college and clothes and they end up living together pretty fast. Whatever though, fuck what those other people think, it’s real.

P.S. if you read all the way through that horny ramble-? ✨Congrats✨ you just read 8.2k words because I have no self control with porn and this spun out of control in the best way lmao

#chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #chris evans x sebastian stan #rpf #real person fanfiction #howdoyousleep3 #fandomfluffandfuck #fic

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raynelovesyoongi · 8 months

Text

Love me again

He wants me so bad. || Chapter Three

Paring:Xu Minghao x Fem!Reader

Warnings:cussing, slight angst(not rlly), drinking, mentions of menstrual cycle, flirting again (platonically)

Wordcount: 2,239

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"Y/n? Are you okay? Do you need pads? I have some in my car, I can go get them if you need them." You heard Miyeon knocking on the door; how long have you been in there for?

"Oh no! Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine! it was just a false alarm, haha." You yelled back while pacing around the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror and at your outfit.

"Thank god! I thought I’d be on my period next since we always sync, and I don’t even have pads. I said that so you could feel a bit of comfort. Anyway, I’m getting back to work. Hurry your ass up because we’re busy!" Miyeon laughed, but you completely canceled out her voice, thinking about how Minghao looked. FUCK! He looked so good today, and you were dressed in your lazy hangover fit; you hadn’t even put any make-up on. If you knew your ex-boyfriend was going to randomly show up at the cafe you work at for some reason, you would have gone all out for it. You can’t let him see you looking like a bum after your breakup! You did what you could and fixed your hair. You walked out of the bathroom, and Minghao was now the one ordering. Were you gone for long or not? Was the line really that long that it took him all that time you were in the bathroom to finally reach the register? It seemed that he was done ordering, so he went over to the "pick up" section so he could wait for the stuff he ordered. You went over to see what he had ordered, and you were surprised to see that he ordered an iced caramel macchiato. That was the drink you had introduced him to; he never really liked going to cafes, and if he ever did, it was because you dragged him to one. You respected his boundaries, so you never dragged him to a busy cafe; instead, you’d always drag him to the cafes nobody really knew about—those small family-owned cafes. You were lost in thought before you remembered you had to actually make the coffees. You got to work and started working on Minghao’s order; he also ordered a couple of pastries and an iced white chocolate mocha, which you were guessing was for his friend. Wait, who did he come here with? You looked over to see where he was sitting, and it was Seokmin. You quickly got to work on his drinks and pastries, and when you finished, you called out his name so he could pick it up. He looked up from his phone and looked at you. You don’t know what exactly he was trying to do, but he didn’t come closer to getting his order. You were puzzled, to say the least, but just set his drink down.

"Dude! Can you not hear? They called your name out hours ago!" Seokmin said it with a pained look on his face. "NOOOOO!!! MY ICE MELTED BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"Chill out, dumbass. they called my name out only a second ago. Jesus Christ, and your ice didn’t melt. Stop being dramatic. Could we go to a different cafe next time? This one’s packed."

"But… But what about Y/N? Wasn’t she cool? She’s worth going through all that line just to see her beautiful smile!"

"You talk like you're in love with her. Also, she was a total dick while taking my order. That’s why I don’t want to come here ever again."

"Really? She’s not the type to be rude to anyone. Are you sure you got the name tags right?" Seokmin paused before looking around and leaning into Minghao’s ear to whisper something. "It could’ve been Miyeon... She’s kind of mean to customers here, but I don’t blame her! These students are so annoying." Minghao knew you weren’t the type to be an asshole; he knew that better than anyone else, but he still continued on with his lie for some reason.

"Let's just go, please." The two of them left, and a certain someone heard their whole conversation. Jihoon was sitting down there the whole time, listening in on what was happening. What the hell was this random dude on about? Who was this guy? And why was he lying on your name if you weren’t even the one who took his order? Jihoon made a mental note to tell you about this later; he wasn’t just going to sit by and let someone disrespect his friend. You were a bit weirded out by how Minghao clearly looked at you, then pretended to act stupid. Did he not remember you? You couldn’t get the vision out of your head; you could feel yourself slowly losing your mind more and more when you thought about it. You were so lost in your thoughts that when your shift was over, you almost worked overtime because of how much you were thinking about Minghao. Jeonghan had to nudge you in order to bring you back to reality.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Ah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, what time is it?"

"Time for you to go home and rest. You look exhausted." He said while patting your back and walking away after. Jihoon was waiting for your shift to be over so he could drop you off at home.

He was waiting for you to finish your rant about your day before you suddenly perked up.

"OH MY GOD, guess what the hell happened today, Woozi! I fucking saw my goddamn ex! I don’t know if he remembers me, though, because he just stared at me, then back at his phone. Or maybe I’m delusional and thought it was him, but really it was someone else? GAAAAHHH, I’m going crazy. Woozi, help me!" You exclaimed loudly while running your fingers through your hair. "And guess what else, bro? HE STILL GETS THE DRINK. I INTRODUCED HIM TO OH MY GOD. HE WANTS ME SO FUCKING BAD!" Jihoon was trying to put everything together in his head; he’s sure he saw you call someone out, then have awkward eye contact with them as they ignored you and went back on their phone. It finally clicked that Minghao was the asshole lying on your name.

"Y/n…" Jihoon began but didn’t know if he should tell you. You were clearly excited to see your ex again. It was obvious you still had feelings for him.

“How long ago did you date him? And what was the reason for the breakup?”

You sucked in a breath. You looked off to the side before responding, "Uh, we broke up about two years ago. We broke up for a couple of reasons. I don’t want to talk about it." He looked at you before looking back at the road.

"So does he go to our school? Or what? Why are you just now seeing him?"

"Hmmm, now that you bring that up, I honestly don’t know why he’s even here, but as I said, it may not actually be him." You guys got distracted by other topics, and it completely slipped Jihoon’s mind about what Minghao had said, and before you knew it, you were home. You waved goodbye and said thank you to Jihoon for dropping you off; he said it was alright, and he’ll always be your personal Uber, whether you like it or not. You giggled at his humor and left while waving once again. When you entered your dorm, you went on Instagram, and that’s when you saw Joshua’s post. It was a photo of Joshua, Wonwoo, and Minghao. You clicked on the photo and saw that Joshua had tagged both of them. Yup, that’s him. You thought as you clicked on Minghao's You looked through his posts and saw that he hasn’t really been on Instagram ever since you two broke up. You went down all the way to the bottom of his page when you saw that he still had a picture of one of your dates posted. You clicked on it and scrolled through the post. You saw countless photos of you and him together; your heart was running miles, and you felt like your chest was on fire. Why were these still up? Why didn’t he ever delete them? Were you thinking too much about it? I need a drink. You made your way to the kitchen and found alcohol in the fridge.

"Drinking alone without us? Awh, you’re mean! My hearts shattered." Yeji spoke and grabbed herself a bottle as well; Miyeon was probably going to steal sips from both of your bottles.

"Guys, please, can you help me out?" You said it almost desperately while making your way to the living room, with two of your roommates following behind you.

"Yeah? What’s up?" Miyeon said as she popped open a bottle and took a couple of sips.

"What does it mean when your ex still has photos of the two of you when you were together posted on his Instagram?"

"Honestly, I feel like that means he still wants you, babe. I don’t blame him. You’re smoking hot." Yeji spoke, making Miyeon hit her shoulder.

"Gosh, Yeji, you sound like a middle-aged man who’s hitting on a young girl at the bar!" Miyeon giggled, "But yeah, I agree with Yeji. It’s weird that he hasn’t deleted them, especially if he’s still active on the account." You took out your phone to look back at the posts; you saw his most recent ones were from yesterday and today. You didn’t know Yeji and Miyeon were being nosy and reaching over your shoulder to see what you were looking at.

"THE NEW KID?" They both yelled out in shock, making you jump.

"Holy shit! You guys know him?"

"Yeah! I have a few classes with him, so does Yeji." Great. So Xu Minghao went to your school, and that means that definitely was him at the cafe.

"I'm going to sleep, guys. Goodnight." You rushed out while making your way to your room, you felt tipsy because you chugged your drink a lot while talking to those two. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you didn’t.

You woke up, ready for the day. You had a plan in your head: you would find Minghao and talk to him. You spent extra time getting ready; you wanted to make sure he’d take you back no matter what! When you made it to school, you were looking all over for him, yet you hadn’t once spotted him. You decided to go to class, and when you walked in, you said hi to Seungkwan and Seokmin. Seungkwan could tell you upset; he could read you like an open book.

"Y/n… come here." He got up from his seat and waited for you to come to him. He hugged you tightly and asked you what was wrong. The tears in your eyes were starting to slide down your cheeks. For some reason, ever since yesterday, when you saw Minghao, your mind has been going in spirals. You felt like all the memories came rushing in, and damn, you missed him. It was all so hard to accept that he was actually here at the same school as you. Seungkwan had no idea why you were crying, but he quickly hid you so nobody else saw you break down. He walked out of class, not caring whether you guys got in trouble or not. You were more important. As he hugged you, you only felt the tears pour out more violently. Every ounce of sadness you’ve ever held was coming out now, and all the stress you had built up in you was all coming out. It seemed that Minghao was the breaking point; you were fine with all the stress building up, you were fine with all the sadness you held in you, and you were fine hiding every problem deep inside of you. But for some reason, since you’ve seen Minghao, you felt like literal shit.

"Seungkwan, I miss him so much—so fucking much it hurts." You spoke in a raspy, strained voice; it was quiet, and only Seungkwan could hear you. He had no idea who you were talking about, but he still wanted to comfort you, none the less, so he just listened to you. "I can’t find him anywhere, and I’m just so damn confused. I just want to talk to him and clear things up! Maybe I even want more."

"Who? Who’s this ‘he’ you’re talking about, y/n? I’ll help you find him. Just let me know, please. It’ll all be okay, yeah? Just let me help." Seungkwan never once softened his grip; he was letting you know he was there for you, but his grip wasn’t so tight that it could hurt you. He knew what your limit was, so he never crossed it by hugging you any tighter to the point where you’d get hurt or feel like you were suffocating.

"Minghao! The new kid everyone's running their mouths about—that's what makes it all worse! Everyone seems to know where he is, yet I can’t fucking find him. It’s like he’s avoiding me." You were right, but it seemed like right now Minghao couldn’t avoid you after being dragged out of the classroom by Seokmin to find you. Minghao heard everything.

A/n: LMAAAAOOOOO BOOOO Y/N (i’m sorry ily) it’s abt to get interesting guys dw pls I know I said that last chap but fr this time😭😞🙏

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the-dance-of-italy · 4 months

Note

hey- it's the same anon who sent that long ask about the chosen lol. the boycott the chosen account does not have their asks on so i'm like.. hoping they see this

i don't personally know about contacting the cast members. i personally think we would gain much more traction on instagram because a majority of the fanbase is active there & they post there very frequently and primarily. all the posts they posted supporting israel were on instagram. i thought once the cause gets enough traction it might pressure the actors involved that i named, i hadn't thought about contacting them directly and i don't really know if that'll work, thoughts on that??

i did mention shaan sharma particularly because he's on sag-aftra board of directors and i haven't seen anyone else talk about how sag-aftra is supporting israel too. since he's involved there we could get a lot more attention directing attention to how sag aftra's pro-israel. and like, mention shaan sharma on the list of people remaining silent, and how he's in the chosen too

the thing is, it's my personal opinion that it might actually be worth switching to insta entirely? i said before in the other ask that i was just going to make my own account but i don't have the time or energy to fully run it; i also don't really know how i'd do it. the tumblr fandom for the chosen is very minimal, and stuff that happens on tumblr tends to be really contained. i don't know how many people there are on twitter though. like i strongly recommend that we shift our focus to insta, make like actual posts with the chosen's tags because the insta algorithm is pretty good with showing tagged stuff like that. remember the pride flag controversy? almost all of that was within instagram and it was enough to get that video response out of multiple cast members

also, i could make some infographics if needed/requested. i do realize anyone could theoretically because it's not too hard to design but right now im offering to make infographics for instagram or possibly twitter (i don't know how it works there haha)

i just personally think right now that it's unlikely for that entire cast & crew, every single person, to support israel wholeheartedly alongside dallas jenkins. (especially luke dimyan; he's vocal about arab and yeah, he could support israel too, but still) if there's enough conversation & backlash on the internet, it could be enough to motivate/provoke some of them to speak up. it's also optimal timing tbh because season 4's released in theatres next month, this is the first time they're making money off their episodes, and if enough people cancel tickets it might do something. although im honestly pessimistic that we'll gain enough traction in time for that or that enough people would even care. but still its worth trying i think!!

man i realized this was long and i'm sorry haha, so basically tl;dr i could help with infographics if needed. and i think we should really prioritize spreading posts on instagram.

Seeing as things are going, i too agree that containing ourselves to just tumblr and twitter is limiting us. It may be too late to prevent Season 4, but there's still time for the future seasons, and the less support they have for the last seasons the better.

I can work on the IG account myself ,im always on my phone anyway. Its still the second week and they havent given me any heavy assignments yet haha. If its not too much trouble, i would accept if you (or anyone who see's and wants to do it) could make the infographics / or any other graphics for the account. I would, but my other laptop broke down and the one im usin doesn't have Adobe installed yet 😅.

#i can only make a few things on my own plus use the stories to promote posts by other people about what's going on in Gaza #answered #nice anon #the chosen #boycott the chosen

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daily-wof-designs · 2 years

Text

Daily WoF Designs - A Retrospective

Here we are! Three hundred thirty one designs, eleven months, and one very, very tired high schooler. I’m writing this at two am after finishing Freedom’s design and wow. Just. Wow.

In case you dont want to read all my sappy stuff and just want to know about the future of the blog- I WILL be posting new designs if any new characters are introduced in new books (the dragon guide, any future winglets, etc). I will also answer any asks. There just wont be any more designs for a while.

Onto the sappy stuff!

I got the idea of this while working on my Sirens animatic, because I thought to myself that a reference would be useful to have right about then. About a month later, I saw someone mention that one of those “drawing every warrior cats” blogs had finished (ive looked and cant find it anymore, but im sure I saw that post!). So, I got the idea in my head and wondered if this was a good idea because- really? four hundred designs? (in concept I was going to do the humans too. I decided against it partway through book 2)

So, who better to ask than my hashtag besties who I’ve known for years?

I immediately disregarded her, of course. But it’s the principle of the matter.

This was a project I started on the tail-end of quarantine, and it gave me something to do with myself once the school year started up and I went back to in person school for the first time since eighth grade. It was something to keep me grounded. I knew that if I had nothing to do, I could always knock out a few designs while listening to a video essay.

Even if theres some designs I’m not so proud of (looking at you, tsunami and deathbringer), I always enjoyed it. Trying to figure out how to make every character look interesting, how to go beyond “brown scales” or “black wings”. It helped me improve my character designing skills, that’s for sure. If I were to go back to some of my book one designs, I’d probably do things differently. But I know if I go back to redo book one, I’d end up redoing EVERY design. Best let sleeping dogs (or dragons!) lie.

Anyways, now that I’m here, I’d like to shout out followers (or just those who frequently interacted) that I noticed a lot. If I missed you, I’m very sorry- theres just SO many of you and I’d like to keep it short haha.

@neozoid You reblogged nearly every design! That’s just impressive dude.

@fugivitus-from-gerard You’ve been here since the start and I appreciate that.

@seawing-vibes As your name suggests, you always seem to enjoy my seawing designs. You were also one of the first blogs to actually reblog with compliments instead of just liking the post! It really inspired me to keep going

@belovedisaster You mostly reblogged my darkstalker art, but you always had something nice to say.

@lunathemeifwawitch You don’t really comment much in the tags, but you reblog everything very consistently and are usually the first to reblog the design of the day.

@mothpawbs Dude. I’m pretty sure you went from my main to this blog instead of the other way around, which is VERY unusual. Normally people find my main from here (then they unfollow my main in like, a week because I don’t wofpost daily like i do here LMAO). Anyways, you’re cool.

@nach0 I always notice you in the notes. Hi.

@lettuce-tv Hi bestie!!! I didn’t know you followed this blog but you were my first follower on here. Congrats? I think?

There’s more, of course- In fact, theres 373 of you! And I appreciate each and every note I get.

I just want to say that this project has meant so much to me, and I’m glad all of you appreciate it too. Thanks for coming along with my journey of drawing a years worth of dragons and supporting this silly little pet project of mine. (Also please join my map i desperately need more members lmao)

#not designs #housekeeping - self promo #housekeeping - celebrations

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blackbloodteeth · 1 year

Text

"SoMa no kissing in The Backroom challenge (Hard Mode)"

Well this was intended for April Fools Day but sometimes things get a little out of hand don’t they haha

I wrote this with the premise of “no plans, no backspaces” (except for fixing typos otherwise this would be unreadable) because of a joke I made in chat, which is where the exact words of the title comes from, typo included. Hopefully the nonstop work I did on this for over a week is at least worth the read.

[Also on AO3]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandom: Soul Eater (Anime & Manga)

Relationship: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans

Characters: Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn

Additional Tags: Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Violence, Blood, Body Horror, Trauma

Language: English

Words: 9920

The story starts with Soul and Maka having left the hallway into an unidentified room, holding hands as one of them claims to tell them something (I'm not sure who we'll see if this becomes relevant later).

"Hey, I need to tell you something..." It's probably Maka.

As it turns out the room has other plans when the lights flicker and the surrounding area fades into a change of scene. The walls become a yellowish office hue, with those bright monotone white lights overhead, and an incessant buzz droning into your skull from the trademark origins of said previously mentioned standard faculty lighting.

"Oh shiot the backrooms?!" That was probably Soul.

Why yes I am keeping that typo, but also while he and her also were looking around they noticed that it may not be The Backrooms but instead The Backroom, since there was only a singular room instead of the endless horizon of identical labyrinthian empty spaces. Go figure.

"Well this is a problem."

It was indeed a problem. They continued looking and saw that it was a room and that this came with the consequence of just being a room, no doorways, no windoways, and no ways that it appeared to have an exit.

In case that sentence was too butchered to make sense, they’re locked in here now. Looks like they’ll have to survive not kissing in here The narrator insists that thought came from one of them, probably the one who had to tell the other something wink wink.

Souls eyes dart between the empty space and Maka’s squinting, wondering what the actual heck is going on and probably if he’s crazy I guess since that seems like a reasonable assumption.

“Okay...” He reigns himself in, facing her directly. “I guess we should probably figure out how to escape, and probably pray we actually can all things considered.”

She fidgets. “Solid plan.”

So the two try to assess the current state of the backish room – Which unsurprisingly still did not contain anything text worthy – Until one of them sighs, probably both, and there is another hand holding, with sincerity.

“Look no matter what happens I’ll try to stay with you, we can figure this out.”

Queue title card of area.

Part 1 – Limbo

As you may have guessed, there’s nothing much here.

This part is probably not going to be long.

The two decide to take different routes of examining the room – For Maka she focuses on her Soul Perception, while Soul physically runs his hands along every inch of the walls to see if there’s a secret hidden in them that he somehow wouldn’t have known with only his previous experience with this concept to be theoretical.

“Yeah, still not really getting anything, aside from you and me anyway.”

He sighs, as it seems his luck is similar. “Well this sucks.”

She wanders up to him, maybe to give him both an extra set of eyes and some optimism that usually one does not remain trapped in solitary room states forever (in better or worse implications), and sends him another smile that the will of some unforeseen force says he should enjoy seeing.

His glance flicks out with a sense of unease for a moment.

“Well, guess this isn’t the worst situation we could have ended up having.“ He reluctantly agrees. “Guess I could...”

She motions to him indiscriminately.

“Sit down with you and talk I guess.”

Soul shuffles a bit in place while pondering the implications of having to communicate, and the possibility that it could involve feelings and personal stuffs, and he’s not sure if he wants to do that since he is in fact the world’s most cagey bastard even if said world is currently just a box.

“What.. do you wanna talk about.” They lean against the wall, mostly that he did it with his shoulder to mirror her propping against it with her back, and she snickers slightly.

“You said you had something you wanted to tell me?”

He blinks.

“Did.. I?”

Her brows furrow with a sense of playfulness if not also a slight confusion. “Yeah? That why we ended up here in the first place, since you pulled me aside in the hall.”

He continues his stupefied blinking before she corrects herself with her hands motioning. “Okay not first place first place, but like before the room changed for whatever reason.”

The air is quiet a moment as he genuinely replays the events that have occurred just now, sifting through them to remember right before then and if he was in fact the one who was asking her to ask her something, and it dawns on him that maybe he was even if he has no idea what it was he wanted to ask in the first place.

“I’m not sure...”

But he looks her in the eyes, certain that whatever it was it was probably important.

“Guess we have enough time for me to figure out that out, though.”

Part 2 – Indecision

They pull away from the wall when suddenly it starts to shift.

The air feels almost like it’s vibrating, fidgeting like an innumerable swarm of busybody insects as the room tints to a passive shade of grey. Along each four cardinal walls soon stood four differing objects, still as if always having been there.

The closest: A couch. Black and white, plush, but strange as that soft feature appeared to stem entirely from being made of stuffed toy rats.

Across from that: A chessboard. Similarly colored while retaining a sense of normalcy being made of wood and carved plainly, albeit lacking any sort of seating to go along with it.

To the right: A bookshelf. Topped up and down with loads of books, all of different colors and most likely of different subject matter. Still they sat but quietly they beckoned with how densely populated the whole shelf was kept.

And finally: A piano. It remained silent and patient.

“...The hell is this?”

Unfortunately no answer was returned as the gleam in Maka’s eye had already taken her to personally inspecting the bookshelf of its contents, much to Soul’s eyerolling. She seemed excited though even if she still wouldn’t admit she’s absolutely a nerd.

“Wow, they’ve even got Dante’s Inferno on here...” He simply saunters away from the unsettling rodent affair, glare suspicious and unyielding toward the more concerning addition to their imprisonment.

“This feels like some sort of trap, if I’m to be honest.”

Her hair whips as she shoots a look to both him and the obvious transgressor.

“What?”

A chuckle turns her away from the book she was readying to dive right into (just a closer examination of its sudden appearance, of course), arms now crossed with that sass she never lets up even in stranger times. “A piano isn’t suddenly going kill you.”

His squint narrows further.

“Factually incorrect, actually.”

He continues before her stance has a chance to go anywhere. “Look, Black Room yadda yadda, but also people have been killed by pianos before. Usually dropped from great heights but there was that one guy who got ran over once.”

His hands motion away her imminent questioning. “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t trust a damn thing about any of this” – Each point is further emphasized with gesturing – “At least two of these relates to our personal interests, this one’s just freakin’ weird, and this… I dunno actually, looks like filler I guess.”

Maka’s analytical gaze does another brief sweep before falling back onto the rat couch with a growing smile, which he immediately also did not trust.

“...You really freaked out by the couch?”

He fidgets subtly. “...It’s weird.”

That smile overtakes her face and sends him into further restlessness, especially with how she’s flipping between him and it. “I think it’s cute.”

“You...” His blinks flutter more rapidly. “Maka it’s made of rats.”

“Soul those are clearly stuffed animals.”

“On an entire couch??”

“Oh come on, I bet it’s soft.”

He scrunches up. “God, please tell me you wouldn’t actually sit on that thing.”

Regret immediately seizes him when she gave him that look that told him oh I definitely would sit on that thing before she drops her arms, reveling in his increasing discomfort as she prods one of the vermin making up the arm.

“Yep. Feels soft.”

“Maka, please don’t...” Genuine distress starts to raise his tone when the head of the rat registered as movement when she pulled away, his fists clenched while trying to remain level headed. “We don’t actually know if that’s safe.”

A sense of playful desire to continue teasing him dissipates at his sighing, her arms now idle as she steps away, softened. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

His fingers scratch at the back of his hair, a murmur still keeping his focus on the potential dubiousness of him having just imagined that.

“`s fine. Just… bit on edge right now…...”

He lifts his eyes up again when she reaches her hand out to him, a huff breaking out his smirk while he meets her palm again, and a sense of comfort washes through him with seeing that despite it all her reassurance thankfully hasn’t changed.

“Like I said: No matter what happens, I’ll be with you the whole way.”

“So...” His eyes gloss over the different array of covers as he continues halfhearted moving each of them around. “What’s Dante’s Inferno actually about?”

Maka glances at him briefly, a smirk raised to his brows furrowing. “What?”

“I’m surprised you asked.”

“I mean I’ve heard of it before, just never read it… Probably nerd stuff…….” She snorts at his grumbled pouting. The books keep shuffling with her attention to them as she remains smiling, more enticed by the opening to inform than to seize the chance for further teasing.

“Well it’s a story about an Italian poet who journeys through each layer and learns something about what it really means and the significance of each punishment. Genuinely really fascinating, especially for the time period.”

Soul’s finger hovers over a volume of something seemingly animal related until he slowly resumes his prodding. “...Layers of what?”

She stops and blinks. “...The Inferno.”

He squints, their staredown lasting approximately 30 seconds before he takes a gander at connecting the vague dots.

“...Like Hell?”

At this moment he now wondered if she was trying to Morse code his stupidity through eyelids alone, lips raised in a patient but very noticeably befuddled shade of amusement. “Yes…? Did I not already say that?”

“No, actually.” He deadpans. “Just that there were layers and that could have meant literally anything without context.”

Her eyes visibly replay her words through her head, quickly dropping into bit of chuckles once registering that she did in fact miss that part of her explanation, much to the chagrin of one’s initial intentions.

“Sorry, I thought I mentioned that.” The book she left parted away from its brethren was then returned after having been held for long enough, a lighthearted hum resuming as she returned to inspecting the remainder of that particular shelf.

“Yeah, it’s about Hell. Each layer is divided by the different sins people who don’t want to make up for them have committed, starting from the outer edge and getting progressively more intense the deeper it goes. Pretty interesting this actually does reflect the layers of the Earth’s core while still going through all this different symbolism.”

“Yep that sounds like nerd stuff.”

He snickers as her knee retaliates into his shoulder, hands soon dusting themselves off when he finally reaches another shelf’s end with a sigh. “Well doesn’t look like there’s actually any secret switches behind any of these...”

The thud of a hardcover resounds as she frowns. “Yeah… At least it was worth a shot…...”

Blood flow restores to his legs as he levers himself back up into standing, fingers stretching as he shakes them off and rolls his shoulders.

“So, what now?”

Consideration immediately turns around to the other side of the room where – “Aside from that.” – and then moves over to the right, mentally interrogating the chess board already set up even without anything to sit up to it with. As it stood the potential hazard level of it simply being there was estimated to be fairly low, so she lets her eyebrows raise at the prospect of something entertaining for them to do. “Care for a game?”

“...Do you know how to play?”

They then plummet at the sheer audacity of the assumption that she would have said not. “Yes?”

Soul’s eyes roll almost fast enough to take his head along with the force. “Do you know how to explain the rules.”

“Oh.”

She clears her throat before walking over to the table, briefly examining it and then lifting up one of the pieces slowly, setting it back down to where it had just been after nothing strange had decided to finally descend upon them and Soul had done a thorough amount of anxious fidgeting. “Here.”

His hands tuck into the pockets of his steady gait toward the opposite end of the board – the white pieces – while she takes position across from him. The awaiting game was indeed carved in a similar manner to the table, but in the curiosity of his touch he began to wonder if it had been done in bone instead of wood…

“This front row? Those are your Pawns.” Her instruction gestures out to the relevant parts of the board. “This piece here is your King – Your goal is to make sure I don’t capture him while you try to take mine. This one is the Queen; Unlike the King who can only move one space at a time, she can go pretty much anywhere so think carefully about how you want to move her so you don’t end up wasting her abilities.”

He nods to confirm that so far things made sense.

“The Pawns also can only move one square at a time but only directly in front of them and if that space is empty. They can’t capture another piece directly in front of them, only when another piece is standing diagonally to it like this – “ A spare pawn is used to demonstrate the attack pattern. “ – If you can get a Pawn to my end of the board you can then turn it into any other piece you want.” He nods again, pieces returned to their proper spots.

“The rest of these are the Rooks, Bishops, and Knights. Rooks can move as far as they want but can only move in these directions, but you can capture whoever’s closest in any of the directions. Bishops work the same way but they move diagonally instead. And Knights move differently than any of the other pieces, kind of in an L shape like this – “ The ivory slides over multiple center squares. “ – both forwards and backwards. These ones can actually jump over other pieces so you can only capture with a Knight if another piece is on the last square they land on.”

The pieces are once again set back, this time tidied up and straightened forward, an excitement shimmering in her eyes that he knows is going to give him hell later.

“Other than that, the Pawns can move two spaces only when they’re first allowed to move and there’s a special move you can use once per game that lets you move Rook and King together, but other than that I think you’ll be able to pick it up as you go.”

Soul lets out a slow exhale while taking a moment to let that all sink in, eventually raising his shark-toothy smile up in accepting her challenge. “So, who starts first?”

“White does.”

Oh that grin definitely tells him she isn’t planning to go easy on him.

“Got it...” His hand hesitates out briefly, then extending a pawn from the middle, two spaces forward like he already knows to do so.

Let the game begin.

The makeshift door opened swiftly with her brisk entrance, eyes still bound to the journalings while she hurried over to him.

“Found something?”

A sharp sigh indicated that that may indeed be a yes, the papers soon sat in front of him as she did, that sternness worn unyielding even if her tone held no affront. “I think we just might finally have found the thing we’ve been searching for.”

Intrigue brings his fingers over his chin as she unfolds the relevant notes for him, scrawlings and sketches somehow still as concise as ever. His eyes tread lightly yet with care, soaking up every drop of information until eventually his gaze lifts, heavy with a newly added weight of dread even aside from the pervasive fear looming through the very air itself.

“A power greater than anything ever imagined...”

Her mutter sicks into him, thickening the tension. “Do you really believe this to be a wise decision?”

“Do you trust me?”

His thumb strokes in restless thought for a moment. “You and you alone, yes.”

“Then allow me to pursue this chance to finally end all bloodshed.”

That ideal did ring deep with him – It was no hidden fact that their very home had quickly descended into a battlefield, one that now only reeked of war and chaos in mere days, and ever the strategist he considered both scales accordingly before finally reaching his verdict, solemn yet proud.

“If it is your will, than so it shall be done – I’ll continue to follow it until the very end.”

Part 3 – Hesitation

“Checkmate.”

An air of victory resounds in the final tap of ebony across the board, Maka’s triumph lasting for only a few second before suddenly the lights start to flicker, both of them instinctively distancing themselves from the table while the room already began to shift again.

At first, nervousness at the unexpected change of scene, but soon a bewildered uncertainty with their surroundings now being cozily lit, décor more fit for a small party.

Beside them, as they looked back, was now a wider table hosting an array of tantalizing food and drink. To Soul’s left stood a grandfather clock where the bookshelf once was, ticking quietly to itself yet unassuming. To Maka’s right came a soft tune of inviting music, spun from a record that played of its own accord. And at the remaining wall there sat a simple recliner.

“Well if didn’t look like a trap before, it definitely does now,” he mutters, tension keeping his movements stiff despite his attempt to seem calm.

Maka at least appears to take this in better than he is. “Hey at least it’s friendly.”

“That’s the part I don’t trust the most.”

Her laugh turns away as she continues surveying the room, though inevitably pulled back in when his frowning murmurs at the sound that didn’t strike him as necessarily grating. “Do you think there’s some sort of… symbolism in any of this…...”

The reflection of their earlier idle talk resurfaces with a thoughtful hum.

“Hmmm… That’s a good question actually.”

Truthfully the room did seem to actually know them to some degree even if so far fairly surface level, but it having struck more than coincidences threw her into full intrigue, a finger tapping out of sync against her chin as she wandered to the middle of the stage.

“Well this is clearly some sort of party scene… Maybe it has to do with being outside our comfort zone; Like there’s stuff we’re familiar with, like you’ve got the music and food, but then there’s this sort of sense that… That sort of feeling that you just want to go home, you know? Since there’s a clock that constantly tells you the time and a chair maybe someone would want to sit on instead of moving around.” Her arms then drop to the side with a humored aside. “Or this actually is some kind of Hell and we’re not supposed to fall for temptation or something like that, either one.”

His brows furrow as he sinks a little more. Well he could definitely believe that latter just from the piano alone, though that only raised more questions as to what they’d done to end up in that kind of place to begin with, or when they were going to be able to leave for that matter.

“The last version of the room ended up changing after we did something; Maybe we have to keep choosing the correct options until we can find our way out.”

“Oh, good idea.” Her owl eyes take to immediately assessing their next course of action. “Okay, that will probably get us killed. Don’t really know what the chair would do but kind of don’t want to see how that could go wrong. Hmmm… I wonder if...” She moves her examination along the clock’s height, souring when nothing out of the ordinary revealed itself before swiveling away again. “Guess that leaves the record player. Maybe we’re supposed to shut it off?”

Soul ponders this as he also has to consciously pull his hand out of him having started chewing his nails. “Last time changed when we played along with it, I’m not sure if trying to shut it down is a good idea.”

He then tenses up at how much her eyes immediately light up.

“Oh we should dance!”

His entire being immediately scrunches into itself.

“Oh come on; I showed you how to play Chess, you can show me how to dance! I know you’re way better at it than I am, anyway.”

One long drawn out sigh later, he reluctantly admits that so far that logic is safest and most promising thing they have to work on, a timid arm extended her way once he’d slowly trudged to the center of the floor. “Here...”

Not even his pout could remain sure of itself as she bounded up and eagerly accepted his invitation, fitting right into place in a way that drew his grin out helplessly.

“Okay so I assume you know how legs work, but uh… First basic step goes somethin’ like this…...” The gears in his head gnash wildly over trying to figure out how one condenses a lifetime ago of formality into a single comprehendible list until they’re suddenly knocked out of alignment, his balance startling back when her attempt to match his movement puts her too close too fast. He brushes it off with a laugh while straightening them out to try again.

“Okay, uhhh...” And then clears his throat to reset his posture. “Yeah I don’t think I can explain it the same way you can. I’ll try to make sure you can follow along, but uh...” He can’t resist loosening up a chuckle at how serious her face said she wanted to take this.

“Just think of it like how we partner – Let me um… be your Meister right now.”

“Got it.”

With a deep breath, he takes a basic step, then another to feel for the general movement. Slowly he pulls her along, letting her familiarize with the pattern, before he eases into bringing them closer to the beat of the current song, falling into the rhythm that he made sure not to get swept away in as long as she was there to keep up with him.

The water swayed along with his feet, soon slowing to an end when he reached the chamber where she stood ahead of him. His eyes fell affixed to objects she revealed in hand as she turned:

One constantly shifted into itself while the other pulsed outward, both glowing mysteriously and mesmerizing enough to hold him at bay, still even while she promptly addressed him.

“These are it – We finally have both keys to unlock an end to this madness.”

And him the third…

He finally breaks away back to her sober gaze, resuming his trek toward the stone platform with a sullen breath. “You’re truly certain this will end in our good favour?”

“You have my faith. I’ve studied extensively enough to understand the process and as long as we remain together we should be able to control the outcome how we desire it.” His footsteps pause right in front of the steps up. “Are you truly prepared to walk this path with me?”

The stone answers quietly beneath his climb, gentle fingertips meeting her knuckles as their eyes locked, tender and understanding yet firm in resolve.

“My oath is sworn unbroken.”

Part 4 – Stagnation

Click.

Their steps cease when the song comes to an end, the needle’s aimless wandering soon fading into silence while the room shifts away again.

This time it appeared much simpler yet more abstract: The scene laid barren except for two standing chairs, facing both opposite ends of each other and up against the walls, the floor of which contrasted both sides – red and green – in a spiral pattern that twirled directly into the center until neither were distinguishable. This color also ran up the surface of all sides but faded halfway into a muddled shadowy ceiling, which consequently revealed the lighting to now originate from an ornate crystal chandelier that was notably hanging somewhat precariously.

Enough to fall and hurt someone if it was swayed too much, Soul reckoned.

Maka pulls away, gears visibly turning in her eyes quick to contemplate their new puzzle, frowning as she eventually hazards at its reasoning.

“Duality.”

“Hm?” It was a hum less about it making sense and more for prodding her train of thought.

“Conflicting viewpoints – There’s two opposite sides facing away from each other, but eventually they work around each other until they meet in the middle.”

That definitely seemed clear enough to be true, but there was still a clue lacking enough to bring his thumb over the corner of his mouth in pondering. “So what does that mean for us?”

Her frown continues twofold as she continues working through it before bringing him along.

“The first room we went ‘against each other’ while the second room we ‘worked together’, so for this room...” She perks up when a dot connects. “We come together as equals, like Resonance!”

He hums his agreement to that conclusion. “You showed me something, I showed you something, so now we have to show each other something?”

“Yep!”

A smile twitches up at her triumph before it lowers again, thoughtful as his glance flicks around briefly. “...So what exactly do we have to show each other?”

That was actually a very good question, one that quieted her again while it became mutually obvious that unlike the previous two iterations there wasn’t nearly as much to do here (aside from sitting and staring straight at a wall, but Soul wasn’t too keen on that even if his legs started to want to convince him otherwise), and as she moved along reassessing either side her face eventually lit up with her hands clapped.

“Oh, I know – Here, you stand over by the green side!” He hesitates a moment until her persistence in the matter slowly shuffles him over to the other chair, Maka then standing proudly opposite and eager to give instruction.

“It’s like you said when we were dancing: you took the perspective of being a Meister, and now I’ll take the viewpoint of being a Weapon before we meet in the middle as partners!”

His brows furrow, staring up at the chandelier with unease over having to be anywhere beneath it, but he complies for lacking any other possible solutions. “So we both just kinda pretend to be each other’s roles?”

“Yeah – Maybe we can take steps forward when we feel like we get the hang of it so that we’re both ready at our own pace.” Soul nods as her face then slips into full concentration, a sigh quietly puffed out while he closes his eyes to focus too.

A Meister… Not too different from being a Weapon in that they were two halves working towards the same goal, but the way both went at it from separate angles as a default.

He had to eat souls, she did the legwork to fight for those souls, and now… he has to picture what it’d feel like if it were the other way around.

Soul’s spine straightens at the sound of her foot shuffling.

He doesn’t have perception or a special wavelength, but most people don’t. He also doesn’t move as quickly as she does, but that’s something that he could probably work on if he wanted… Besides, he works better thinking quickly and figuring things out on the fly, more of a backseat “observe and adapt” kinda guy than he prefers to admit.

Though that does make him wonder what would make him decide to pursue being a Meister to begin with……

Soul meanders forward a little when her steps continue.

Would it be for the same reason he left as a Weapon? Would he have even considered that as a possibility, taken his life in another direction even if it wasn’t sparked from an existing passion?

...Would he still be willing to defend her life even if he had nothing to do it with?

Soul peeks out at her steady approach toward the spiral’s center.

Of course he would, she’s his partner, he’d do everything he could to keep her safe even if it meant risking himself, Weapon or not. The scar embedded across his chest was a reminder of that, one that would remain for the rest of his life… But would he do it again?

Soul watches her progress.

Would he still take the hit for her if he was on the other end? Would he have even gone into that fight if he’d known the danger that they were in?

Would they have even been there to begin with if it’d been a different night?

Soul stares directly at the crystals hanging directly above her head.

Could he have done something to prevent it in the first place?

“That doesn’t look safe.”

Maka looks at him confused, but all he can see is the light dropping and shattering her. “The chandelier, it looks like it’s going to fall any minute.”

“Oh.” Threat swayed in his gut as she simply gazed upward, and especially when her returned smile defied all risk. “I think it looks sturdy enough – Here, you should see it with me. I can jump out of the way if it starts moving.”

He wanted to shout, rebel against the impending dread and get her away from the looming danger as quickly as possible, yet timidly he walked to take her hand, trust peering up at a newfound view unfolding above him.

The light reflected through all the individual crystals, bringing each one to life against the dark horizon, like stars shining through a midnight sky. In the middle of course was the moon, so radiant it formed a complete circle with its luminescent shards now its crowning petals.

It was… rather pretty, actually.

Her fingers felt warm in between his, her eyes illuminated brilliantly even if it was lit with a bit of I told you so, though genuinely he could sense it was more for getting to share the experience than anything.

He sighs out an awkward show of teeth, smile inevitably mirroring hers while a glint of curiosity eventually rekindled. “So, do you remember what you were wanting to ask me?”

A stammer drops his jaw and flusters it helplessly as his mind proceeds to replay through everything again.

Maybe in truth he always did have that question in the back of his head, but maybe it isn’t one he ever needed to ask. She was always there for him, ready to take his hand whenever the moment needed it, and him… Maybe he just worries too much.

Despite everything she really was strong. Maybe that’s what really made them partners.

“Oh, uh...” Soul loosens out a goofy little chuckle before lifting it away back to the ceiling, deciding it was probably better to just enjoy what good did manage to come from all this nothing nonsense.

“Ah, not really…...”

But the questions still remained.

His face finally emerges out of the red hot liquid, lungs gasping desperately as if the engulfing heat crushing his body was soaking right into his chest.

This… This isn’t……

Metallic sting blurs his vision, but even before he fights to free his eyes open he already sinks in the weight of the surrounding sea, a seemingly bottomless chasm of blood. The worst part is it wasn’t his. The best part is it’s everyone else’s.

His face contorts through several wild emotions until it collapses into laughter at how comforting it actually is.

He slips back into submersion while laughing and laughs at how great it would be if they all joined him.

Part 5 – Regret

Their fingers tense together when the light flickers yet again, fading into a fixture much more dim and plain. The dark ceiling mellows into a dull grey, which fell over the rest of the walls except for the rust spread along the floor slightly over them, the odd monotony only noticeably broken by the frequent smears and splotches of pitch black ink seemingly coated by someone’s haphazard wandering.

Soul didn’t like this room.

The two remain in hand even while this shift leaves both unsettled before an interrupting echo of bare footsteps break them apart, his arm naturally extended in front of her to prepare guarding her from their unexpected visitor.

It was Soul. It also wasn’t: He wore casually untidy clothes different from him, but the main thing that set them apart was his stare, hollow yet wide as if he didn’t have lids while a smile wore halfheartedly on his open lips.

It wasn’t necessarily with hostility but it was… off, in every way imaginable.

This was especially true as he then followed up with digging his fingertips into the edges of his teeth, running the dark ooze along the end of his tongue until it all fell to the side, Soul’s entire body recoiling into disgust while more ink dripped onto the unclean floor.

And then it spoke.

“Look who just showed up.”

His voice coming out of that face was low and raspy, his tone accusatory and straight to the point as he stood his ground. “Who the hell are you?”

It only laughed.

“Do you think you’re the main character or somethin’? That you can’t feel pain? That I couldn’t just beat the shit out of you and let you watch her die? Do you really think you’re fuckin’ invincible or some shit?”

The stammer caught in his throat was quickly interrupted by Maka shouting beside him. “What do you want with us?!”

“Could you actually kill him if you needed to? Would you watch him die if you had to?” They both shuffled back as it began approaching.

“Did you really believe your actions don’t have consequences?”

Soul watches as the pitch black rushes toward him.

Soul watches as his chest tears wide open.

Soul watches as molten flesh rains from his skin.

Soul watches as his body melts into the floor.

Soul hears a scream as he can no longer gasp out from his crushed lungs.

Soul’s back slams into something, air unable to pass in or out as his sneer continues toward him.

“Do you really want to die for her? Do you actually want to keep feeling that pain?” He locks up when a hand rams right next to his head, trapping laughter nearly broken into screaming. “You want to be ripped open again?! You want another scar matching the other way, or fuck it you can just tear all of it off and start all the fuck over again!! Maybe if you keep getting hurt enough you can finally get it through your thick fucking skull just how mu– ”

Force blurs by too fast for him to understand what it was, but eventually he registers it as Maka pinning him to the ground before her fist collides with his face, a confusing calm numbing into passive silence when she just… keeps going.

Every hit was struck with her full weight, repetition until black kept splattering out and yelling, wailing even, rang indecipherably through the stiff air, continuously reverberating against the cracking mush even when it’d long stopped moving. Eventually, her chest only heaved, quieted except for a choke he then identified as sobbing, shaking as she soon lifted herself and slowly turned with a whine leaking out from underneath the mess of ink and tears.

“I’m sorry...”

He remained motionless while her posture tightened and started curling into itself.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…...”

He should do something. Say something, walk to her, move her away from the body.

But he did nothing.

Felt nothing, didn’t know what to feel or do or say, just watched her face drip and sounds shaking her downward before a fit of chuckling snaps them both back.

The body began lifting up, head pulleying from some invisible string while darkness spilled out where his face had been onto its clothes, painting all of it black as his voice hollered out undeterred.

“Damn girl, you really just shot past Wrath and dropped straight into Violence!”

Boisterous cackling spasms from the spew of ebony as it then erupts into dozens of pale wings, all writhing and coveting the front of its head while its back burst and sprayed out into four greater wings, two black, two red. Eyes of dark rings and crimson split open upon their feathers, staring and dripping more ink onto the pool now consuming the flooring.

Fear, dread coiled around his chest, steps quickly unsteady when the wall scoops him up and slams a cage door over him, silver bars to match the golden cage now also surrounding her.

“Maka!”

There was no time for even a response, the body hopping up on top of his imprisonment for its weight to swiftly plunge him into the abyss with a howl.

“Going dooooown!!”

He barely catches the chain lifting her up as fast as he descended, his stomach churning with nothing to grab onto while he plummeted, faster and faster through the darkness, until suddenly the stop jars him, leaving his side crashed into the now swaying cage.

It didn’t take him long to realize he was currently being suspended right over a sea of red, the heat and stench no doubt being blood, pooled in a horizonless dark chasm that made him recoil before his voice resumes its tune.

“So, did you really want to die for her?”

His head whips up to his body still crouching over him, rage now finally reaching its boiling point. “Is there really something so wrong with wanting to protect her?!”

“No, you still don’t get it. Let me spell it out for you then:”

Part 6 – Isolation

“You’re all alone now.”

Fingers grip over the bars as it crawls halfway down, looming over him upside-down with innumerable white feathers squirming through the gaps.

“You swore to dying for her. Kept carrying all the weight of the pain so she wouldn’t feel hurt.” Its large wings outstretch, eyes crying crimson that dripped meaninglessly into the rest of it. “This is your consequence.”

His laugh then echoed against the metal as it climbed back up to the cage’s chain.

“I’m going to leave you now and let you wallow in it, all to yourself just like you wanted.”

The cage sways a little more while its hands and feet pull it along the chain’s length, Soul’s palms slamming into the sides while shooting upright. “He- Hey!”

It continued making its way up until eventually it faded into the obscurity of the shadow above, the silence soon deafening even when his back landed into the bars again, sliding and curling his chest against his knees with his arms limping around them. Despite the heat steaming from below, he only felt cold, empty, and… alone.

A sniffle trembles his shoulders, breath unsteady while his arms coil in tighter to hold it in place. His eyes wander through the abyss and are offered nothing in return, nothing left for him but the memories and his words.

Upon reflecting, the blood directly in front of his view begins to bubble, raising into a mirror image who’s head just barely left the surface.

His wild hair floated and dragged onto his pale face, draping around his dark round eyes in a way that gave more resemblance to a fish, especially when the surrounding pool streamed out of its mouth, freeing out a soft murmuring hoarseness.

“Hey, you seem lost.”

Soul’s lungs stuttered before finally cracking his voice out. “Yeah…...”

“Yeah, me too.”

He blinks at him for awhile before chiming in again.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Soul swallows the pressure still sitting in his throat, a sigh tumbling out while meekly looking away. “I dunno, I guess… I just wanted to keep Maka safe because that’s what I’m supposed to do, but now it’s like I wasn’t supposed to, or I’m doing it wrong or something……...”

“You care about her a lot though, right?”

Soul nods. “...Yeah, but… I think I hurt her…...” One long breath shudders out from his sniff. “...Not, not physically but, I think I hurt her from… not talking about it…… Like how much it still hurts even though I ignore it and just keep saying I’ll keep getting hurt for her………...”

“Not all acts of good are wise, and not all acts of evil are foolish, but still we should strive to be the best that we can be.”

Soul peers up at his light smile.

“I don’t think it was really your fault. You just did what you thought was best and sometimes there’s no real clear answer, especially when it’s something you’ve never really dealt with before.”

He watches him for another moment, smile continuing.

“It’s never too late, by the way. You can ask her about it yourself if you still want to.”

Soul slowly perks up, even if unsteady. “...How? I’m still locked down here...”

“You care a lot about Maka’s pain, but are you willing to try caring for your pain too?”

Soul pauses, until eventually, he nods again.

“Then let me help open the door for you. You just have to get up top and start climbing.”

Out of the blood then emerges arms upon arms of pale hands, countless fingers reaching and grabbing the cage steady before a few stray limbs pull the side bars away.

Soul swallows, cautious, but soon lifting himself up and crouching through the doorway to hang against the other side, feet balancing onto a couple palms that carefully bring him level enough to the roof for him to now stand on top of it. His grip clings tightly to the chain’s links, tense as he looks back at his unmoving reflection one last time.

“Just keep climbing and don’t let go!”

And with a deep breath, he begins his ascent, steadily working his way up, one step at a time.

Part 7 – Perseverance

His hands interchanged their grip around the chain as he persisted his journey upward, his feet dutifully following each motion while passing onto each stair step. It was a long hall, dull in a truly neutral grey, inclined so extensively that the horizon remained consistently vague.

The weight of the climb already dragged on him. Exhaustion ached his body, weakened his stride under the uncertainty of any visible end. Made his arms plead this was good enough, his legs beg that it wasn’t worth it, but he knew that she would have tried to her fullest and that she’d want him to succeed too, so he carried on.

Beside his climbing this hall appeared just spacious enough to be able to host another person next to him, bringing along its reminder that he was traveling solo. A twinge of burning sparked from it, twisting over how he was left enduring this, but he smothered it in knowing she would gladly extend her hand for him if she was here and settled into gratitude, simply hoping she is safe.

Yet that spark reinvigorated itself much more furiously, a loathing now falling directly upon himself. Maybe this fate truly was deserved, a punishment for his consequences being truly just deserts. Though it soon tempers when memories wash back in, both of her lament despite best intentions and the newfound promise he’d sworn, mellowing him into holding for the chance to make things right again.

...But does it even matter? Would anything actually change in the end, if there even is an end to this? Scars heal on their own, don’t they? What difference does it make between just getting over it and throwing the pain at someone else…… But… The pain wasn’t just physical. He was terrified, still scared it could happen again, happen to her, and the darkness that came with it never left his head. That stuff doesn’t just go away, even if you bury it. And seeing how she still reached for him and wanted to be at his side despite the hurt inflicted on her, maybe she… Maybe it’ll be okay, if she helps him unearth it, even just at his own pace.

His footsteps lightened and fueled his hastening, determination empowering as a feeling then squirmed in his chest. It murmurs to him that they’d been happier when he kept the question to himself, yet he reminded it of how she was the one who asked him again first. When it pointed toward his controlling worry, stubbornly fighting her meeting in the middle, he counters that even with their different views she still believed in him trusting her, and the weight of his body lifted at the experiences they can still share together.

The feeling began gnawing on him, told him that he was just using her for his own gain. Yet he stood his ground, firm in their efforts being mutual while assured that neither of them will leave each other behind, and his legs raised him higher than ever at the goals they can still both work for.

And finally it seethed, demanded that she’s already rejected his selfishness. And he contented, knowing that she’ll be waiting for him the same way he would for her. Because they’re partners, and that’s what partners do, so his arms kept reaching with greater fervor at the connection they can still call theirs.

Calm eased through him, the feeling quieted as it simply asked what it was he truly wanted.

He just wanted to be with her again.

Suddenly the hallway begins to shimmer, that monotony reflecting brilliantly, almost blinding, as pure light engulfed everything surrounding him. Hope hurried his ascent, hands outstretched until they latch onto a much sturdier link, turning that light red as he pushes past it and through the heavy curtains where his eyes soon adjusted to a familiar shade of reds and shadows.

The Black Room.

To his relief, the first thing he notices is Maka – black dress swishing around her as she shot up from the lone chair sitting aways from the curtain.

“Soul!”

Waves of emotion float a smile on up until it quickly sinks when he also registers the noise, head turning beyond the fabric to watch another version of himself – a black suit with a face obscured by long bangs, swaying as it played that dark piano in a tune he immediately recognized. Soul looks back at her pouting.

“He’s been playing Für Elise nonstop for several times in a row now.”

The way she huffed that sentence out made him want to laugh, instead only blinking while deciding to ask the more important question in any case. “Are you doing okay though?”

“Aside from having this song engrained into my soul, yeah.”

He snickers at her wryness before it softens up considerably.

“What about you – Are you okay?”

His breath tenses up, gut reaction stuttering it until it jolts when a harsh stray note drops the room into stiff silence, that other self now looming his direction like a weeping willow with roots of midnight judgement. Soul swallows, then shutting the door behind him as he finally takes a step forward, voice meek.

“...No.”

Maka stills, tone unchanged but remaining gentle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really...” He’s quick to follow up his mutter with a sharp sigh. “...but I need to ask you.”

She moves forward a few paces slowly, patiently awaiting as he spends a moment composing himself, and eventually he forces the words out.

“Do you…...” One breath at a time.

“Do you hate me?”

Her brows furrow, confused. “Hate you?”

“Are you mad at me. For getting hurt… and… not talking about it…… acting like it never happened, and just… saying I’ll keep getting hurt, even though……...” His chest shudders, constricted. “...it still hurts…...”

She takes a deep steady inhale, thinking, his eyes vulnerable while she answers calmly.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m frustrated, but I’m frustrated about a lot of things; I’m frustrated that you got hurt, and I’m frustrated because I feel like I could have done better, but I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault.”

The constriction winds up his throat and her sigh lifts, not quite into a smile, just something positive.

“I genuinely appreciate that you’re still here, and that you’re being open with me. It means a lot and...” Her body audibly tenses. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting.”

Maka watches his breath sway uneven, teetering until he timidly walks toward her. He can’t say for certain when those old Black Room clothes slipped onto him but that was never surprising, fingers gripping along the seams of his slacks like a child shaming away from its parent’s imminent disappointment as he closed their distance, Soul now standing only a few feet away.

His stance wobbles, aches at her heavy exhale, and finally the weight truly collapses him, slumping onto her shoulder as the air all chokes out.

“I’m so scared. I’m so afraid of you getting hurt and I can’t do anything about it. I’m fucking terrified I’m going to lose control and one day you’re going to end up dead because of me.” Heat sputters from his chest even under the warmth of their arms embracing closer. “I hate that I’m not as strong as you are. I hate that I keep making you feel like shit because I can’t deal with being weak. I hate this stupid fucking curse and having a demon in my head all the time that keeps telling me it’s my fault you’re going to get hurt next.”

Moisture leaks down from his face but he doesn’t care, just holds onto her more, never wants to let go while sobs continue pouring out.

“It hurts so much. My scar never stops aching and I try to forget about it and hope it just goes away. I keep having nightmares over and over again about when it happened and it happening to you and me hurting you, and it… it fucking sucks. I wish it would stop but I don’t tell you about it because I know you blame yourself, I know you think you’re the reason I got hurt, but you’re not. You didn’t do this to me, life just fucked us over and...”

His voice was loud, ugly, and a mess, but it was his. It was both of theirs.

“...It’s not fair. It’s not fair Maka.”

All he could do was cry, both of them. Just finally let out all the pain he’d been carrying for far too long now, let go of the burden he tried to keep shouldered on his own, and let her help lift the weight that had sunken his chest away from hers.

In that moment their grief was deeply shared, and his shadow, now moving back to whence it came, finally brought that fallboard to its close.

Part 8 – Resolve

Soul scoots the piano bench out a little before taking a seat away from the instrument behind him.

It was a wonder they even managed to clean the mess from their faces, but he was feeling tons better now, and judging by how she comfortably sat next to him it seemed she felt the same way. He wasn’t sure where that other version of him went, hadn’t seen when it’d even left, but that too was a welcome change as they simply got to have the room to themselves for the time being. And with a nice, calm breath of relief, quietly his voice lifts up to her again with a timid glance.

“Thank you, for um… listening to me.”

Maka welcomes it with her own lighthearted smile. “Hey, you know I’m here for you when you need it – I really am glad you came to talk to me about it.” She then laughs aside a little. “I think we definitely both needed this, anyway.”

He follows, albeit weakly. “Yeah, sorry, I just…… It’s not easy, um… talking about this kinda stuff...” And smirks awkwardly. “Sorry for being kind’ve a jackass about it.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I get it. It’s been hard to deal with, but you know… I’m proud of you, for reaching out. I know it takes a lot of strength to do that.”

Their eyes remain locked, stammer caught in his throat all over again until he gives it up, gaze averted down to his fingers aimlessly fidgeting with themselves even when his voice eventually squirms its way out, quiet but genuine. “Thank you.”

The two then simply wallow in each other’s company, thoughts just drifting through his hands before deciding it’d be okay to keep freeing them up.

“So, um… How did you end up here?” He gestures vaguely around the room to clarify. “Like nothing bad happened before I got here?”

“Oh, no I just...” She thinks briefly, answer facing the chair she’d first been waiting in.

“He said I was free to go, but I didn’t want to leave you here so I just waited for you to come back since I knew you would.”

A laugh returns over to him, shining through all uncertainties. “Pretty sure he was trying to get me to leave though.”

Soul chuckles lightly, soaking in both the warmth of her mirth and lighting curiosity, then willingly indulging it to lean more into its comfort.

“Yeah, it was pretty weird down there, but uh… Basically I promised I’d try to care about myself more, and I climbed up for awhile to get here. It definitely kinda sucked but um...”

He looks up to her with full sincerity.

“...It was a question I needed to ask you.”

And Maka extends her full appreciation in return.

“That’s good, I’m glad you made it out.”

Though his face does become a bit restless when a gentle humour makes her start to shy away. “...I do feel a little embarrassed though now that I know what the question was actually about.”

He scrunches. “...What did you think it was about?”

More laughter shoots out while she flutters about nervously.

“Well y’know… You suddenly pulling me aside into an empty room after you looked like you really wanted something all day, and I just… I don’t know.” The emphasis of her hands flopping down mesmerizes him, leaving the gears in his head slowly turning until they begin speeding up and contorting his expression through several unexplainable emotions before she cuts it off, huffing.

“Look: Just because I can see your soul doesn’t mean I know what you’re actually thinking half the time.” Huff then muttering into a pout. “Boys are weird, okay?”

This finally breaks him, uproarious cackling shaking haphazardly before he whips back enthusiastically. “Girls are also weird!”

“They’re all weird: People are weird.”

The deadpan quickly descends him further and drags her along with him, taking him a solid good minute to catch his breath for when he eventually meets her again, voice softened despite his sharp grin.

“You really are my best friend, though.”

He soon hesitates, fingers back to fidgeting with the seam. “...No offense to everyone else, obviously, you’re just um… You’re the coolest person I know and I genuinely appreciate you being there for me.” And he then faces her in complete earnest. “I want to care about both of us.”

So she truly meets him in the middle. “We both can.”

Their shared admiration beams while he extends his hand, her gladly taking it even before he asks.

“Partners?”

“Partners.”

Newly kindled hope and determination sparks up from within the bond of their resolve, igniting Soul’s sharkiest grin and Maka’s telltale smirk, which soon slips into something unexpectedly casual. “Hey do you wanna go get ice cream?”

He snorts. “Yeah, y’know what I’ve had enough of this room – We can keep moving forward together but who says we can’t also live life how we want too you know?”

“Live life and fuck Medusa.”

The two begin to stand up as he nods in full agreement. “Fuck Medusa.”

And as he shambles up onto his own two feet, hand firmly in hand, they both walk together side by side across those old checker tiles and eagerly chatter all through the exit, finally finding peace in closing that door shut.

Gently he picked the teacup up, letting the aroma drift in before taking a nice sip proper.

Ah, what a pleasant blend.

Quite well done if he says so himself, pairs excellently with the early morning view upon this balcony. A crisp delicate flavour to match a cool yet refreshing sunrise, to which the sun itself greets the day already hard at work.

Yes, this shall be a good day indeed.

He takes another fine sip, most certainly pleased with himself on its taste. Two creams, two sugars.

A good blend always needs a good balance in sweetness, though it was no lie he tended to be a bit more indulgent than most. Perhaps he’ll dare to make a visit today, but who would he be fooling to say he doesn’t make this consideration every day…

He sets the teacup onto its platter, soft clatter then reaching the table he seats at before his eloquent voice finally comes to life.

“I bet you’re wondering where the probable ruse lies, if perhaps it were all a dream or such events holds no bearing beyond the imagination.”

He lifts his cane resting faithfully by his side to give it a graceful twirl, suddenly halting to face its head up for a grand emphasis.

“Fool! The story was but in twain; It happened long ago, you see.”

The end is then swiftly brought upon the floor, like a gavel signifying its supreme judgement.

“Well done, the two you so followed did not meet lips. I’m sure such a challenge was quite trialing, but the reward of your efforts must be well worthwhile. Perhaps you’ve gained greater wisdom for further endeavors, even.”

With a flick of his wrist his magnificent hat tips, parting with a gentleman’s last word.

“And so it would appear our time together now comes to a close, but fret not – We may meet again if you so wish. Always more stories to tell, more secrets to unveil… Some possibly even already upon the horizon, hm.

Until then: fare thee well!”

#2023 art #writing #soul eater #Soul x Maka

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

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Part Nine. Minecraft Dating 101

warnings: swearing, mostly super freaking fluffy but some oopsies at the end (which is the barely-there angst that i mentioned before!!), pet names?? if that bothers you??? (like...... one or both of them might use baby.........) word count: 5.3k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: HEHEH SORRY ITS SO LONG SORRY hope you guys like it!!!! hope it lives up to your standards of minecraft dates lol also thank you guys all for all your suggestions!!! i loved all of them so much!!!! i would have added every idea except this was already 5k words so its much less “flirting” and more so “oh gosh im so nervous what am i supposed to do” from both of them so hehe i think thats more endearing anyway

**********

The familiar sound of a FaceTime call connecting rang in Y/n's ears and she held her phone up to her face. "Hi, Karl," she sighed.

"Y/N!!" he said with a cackle. "ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR DATE?!"

"Shut up, I'm doing this for you."

"I already gave you the tour though so really you could back out. You're choosing to stay." His voice was teasing and giddy. "Why's that, hmm?"

Heat rose instantly to Y/n's face. "Because I'm a woman of my word?"

"OkaAaAyy," he sang. "Or because you liiiiikeee himmm."

"Shhhut up, Karl. No, I don't."

"Suuuure."

"Is this why you called me?"

He giggled. "Yeah, but—"

Y/n disconnected the call and set her phone down with a small laugh and a shake of her head.

With her stream started and her chat greeted, the donation limit raised to $100 (both because she didn't want to be flooded with questions on the date and because she didn't want people to donate their hard-earned money), Y/n logged onto Dream's SMP and found the voice call Dream was in, George's name right under his.

After she clicked it to join, a small gasp emitted from her headphones before she heard Dream mutter something. "Get out, get out, leave."

George's voice was normal. "But I wanna—"

"GEORGE!" Dream yelled, making Y/n giggle.

"Fine!" George yelled back. "Have fun you two," he sang like Karl did before a sound from Discord told them that he left.

It was silent for a second before, "Hi."

"Hi." She giggled. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just some last minute, uh, setting up."

She hummed, amused at the sound of his frantic voice.

"So, um... are you ready for our date?"

"I don't even know where you are. I'm still in my house."

"Knock, knock," he said with a laugh. Y/n turned to see green peeking through the cutouts on her oak door and she laughed.

She ran to the door and opened it for him, revealing Dream in a slightly altered version of his Minecraft skin. He looked the same, except the white blob appeared to be wearing a necktie of some sort. "You look ridiculous," she admitted with a smile. "Wait, is this a fancy date? Should I change my skin?"

"It's not fancy, I just wanted to look my best for the prettiest girl in the world."

"Ohmygosh," she muttered to herself, hoping that writing off his charming words and actions as annoying would make her face not heat up as much. So far, it hadn't worked. Two minutes in and she was already blushing like a schoolgirl whose crush asked her to play tag at recess. "So, I'm not underdressed?"

"No, you're always perfect."

She didn't comment, opting for an eye-roll instead. Truthfully, she wanted to flirt back with him, try to make his heart beat fast like hers already was, but she was worried her words wouldn't come off joking and that the true intention would be obvious, that he'd be able to breeze right past the jovial tone and hear the sincerity in her words. Wait, true intention? What was her true intention? Her true intention should obviously be to just joke around and have some fun, but deep down she knew the motivation for teasing him came from somewhere different, somewhere more meaningful.

She wanted to tease him because she wanted to be the one to make him blush, to make him trip over his words and not know what to do with his hands.

Why? Well, she was still figuring that out.

"If you're ready, follow me, ma'am."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as she followed his character down prime path.

"Hmmm..." he mused. "A secret, obviously."

"Obviously," she scoffed. She noticed that he was several blocks ahead of her and she smiled to herself. "Hey, Dream?"

"Hm?" he asked, spinning to face her as he ran backward.

"I don't know how many dates you've been on, but usually people walk together. You know, gives them an excuse to maybe hold hands or at least enjoy each other's company?" She made sure her voice had just the right balance of teasing and seriousness, curious as to how he would respond.

"I, uh... oh."

"Unless you want me to just meet you there. I mean, you're practically running away from me."

"I'm just excited!" he excused, stopping briefly so she could catch up with him.

"But look at how many beautiful things there around us to look at while we get to where we're going!" she told him. "Well, maybe not that," she said with a laugh as she punched her fist towards Tommy's dirt house. "But other things."

Dream laughed and continued to walk next to her like she requested, pausing if he ever got too far ahead. "How can I look at all those when the most beautiful thing is walking right next to me?"

She's never rolled her eyes so hard in her life. "Shut up," she mumbled as she punched him.

"OW! BUG!"

"That was supposed to be a pat on the arm but Minecraft only has one level of hitting and it's a punch. Sorry."

Dream wheezed briefly before containing his laughter. "This way," he instructed, getting off the path and starting into the woods.

"Oh, really you're trying to kill me. That's why you didn't want me to wear anything nice. Didn't want me to ruin any of my fancy stuff."

"Foiled my plans," he joked lightly. "Okay but really, um, I was thinking—well, so you already have a house but I was thinking we could build one together. Or build something, I don't know. But you're really good at building and I know you really enjoy it so I thought maybe you could show—like, teach me and then later I'll teach you something and then we can have a little picnic dinner."

Y/n smiled at her nervousness. "Hey, that actually sounds really fun!"

"What? What do you mean actually?" He laughed. "What, did you expect me to plan something boring?"

She laughed over his dramatic pouting. "No, but I mean, I didn't know what to expect," she said shyly. "I do have to say, though, I'm not sure what you plan on teaching me. I'm pretty much a master at all possible Minecraft skills, so..."

"Oh, really?" he taunted. "Everything?"

"Mhm," she hummed, her confidence wavering at his smooth voice.

"We'll see about that..."

"Unless you mean you're gonna teach me how to code Minecraft. That's a Minecraft skill I will admit I know nothing about."

"No, no, nothing like that," he said with a laugh.

"Good, save the programming talk for later."

"For laaater, hmmm?" he sang flirtatiously.

"Oh my gosh," she said through a laugh. "You would think that's what I meant."

"Hey, you're the one that said you think it's cute when I talk about coding. Maybe you're into that."

"I was saying it's sweet hearing you talk about stuff you like, you nerd. Why did you immediately think—what, is your idea of dirty talk talking about... like... computer viruses?"

"WhAT?"

"Hey girl, lemme clean out your motherboard," she mocked in a deep voice. "You overclock my processor. Lemme program your, uh—uh...hAHA, nevermind, ew, no."

"BUG?! WHAAAT? What is wrong with you?" His gasps for breath between wheezes made her laugh with him. "Don't ever talk like that again, pleASE."

"I won't, I won't, I'm sorry. Oh my gosh."

"Is that your idea of flirting? You are bad!"

"No, no, no!" She laughed. "I was making fun of you. No, I'm actually really good."

She couldn't stop giggling to herself for a few minutes, embarrassed but also proud of the reaction she got from Dream. She loved hearing him laugh as if he would never stop, it made her heart so happy to hear, especially when she was the one who caused it.

Though she feared her horrible pickup lines, if you could even call them that, were already clipped, ready to be used against her for the rest of her life. Worth it. Probably.

They approached a cleared-out area in the woods and Dream stopped and turned to Y/n. "So, we're here. What should we build?"

"Oh, so now I have to plan? Wow, you are so underprepared," she joked.

"What, no! I originally... I wanted to build a, like, a house together because I didn't— I forgot you made your—your house already and—but since you already have one—"

"We can still build a house," she interrupted with a soft voice. Him fumbling over his words was very endearing but also very confusing. How serious was he taking this bit? Or was he... actually nervous? She was actually nervous but she had reasons to be: a huge live audience to entertain and not ignore, and the weird staticky, itchy feeling in her tummy every time Dream spoke to her. Both valid reasons to be nervous. What was his excuse?

"Really? You wanna build a home together?"

Heat rose to her cheeks at his wording and she hummed. "Mhm. You can be my secret lover I hide in my vacation home. Like a second life kinda deal."

He scoffed. "Oh, now I'm just your side piece, Bug?"

"Nah, you're my main bitch, baby. I just wanna hide you away to keep you for myself because I'm selfish."

There was silence on his end for a few moments, making Y/n's face practically catch fire as she thought about her words. Why did she say that?? How can he flirt all the time but as soon as she says something: dead silence.

"Well.... shhhhhit," he finally mumbled definitively.

"You wanted me to flirt with you, Dream. You literally asked me too!" She laughed, trying to cover up her embarrassment. It had been less than 20 minutes and she already made a fool of herself.

"I did, I did, I just—wow. Come on, that was... I didn't expect you to go from never flirting to calling me baby!"

"Too much?" she bit her lip as she waited for him to explain if it was a good or bad thing.

He paused again. "....no."

She laughed loudly, pulling her hoodie collar up to her face in an attempt to rid herself of the giddiness and heat on her face. Like anyone could see anyway.

"So, a house?"

"A house."

"What kind of house do you think we should build together, Dream?"

"Maybe...." he thought as he ran around the area. "Maybe, like, a log cabin? Since we're in a forest. It's fitting..."

"Very true, very true..." she thought. "I was thinking a castle was more suited for you, king, but a cabin works too."

"Bug!" he yelled, laughter bubbling up in his voice. "What is wrong with you?"

"What?" she said defensively, giggling.

"You're a handful today," he groaned under his breath and she smiled. Though his words said one thing, Y/n could tell he was enjoying her energy.

"So, a dinky, old cabin, or what?"

"Whatever you want to build," he sighed.

"You always this agreeable?"

"Only to you."

"Well, I honestly don't have much practice with building cabins and since I want to show off my skills, I mean, that's the whole point of this, right? For me to impress you with my skills?"

Dream laughed so she continued.

"I think we should build a treehouse."

"A treehouse?"

"Mhm. What do you think? I make a pretty bomb treehouse."

"That sounds awesome!" he agreed. "Oh, and it could go from, like, one tree to another and, like, connect with a bridge! Like, the living room on one and the bedroom on another."

"Yeah, exactly! Okay, it's settled."

"What do we need? What do you want me to do?"

"I'm thinking.... we use cobblestone?"

Dead silent. Literally no noise until a few moments later, ".......Bug. This might be a deal-breaker."

"I'm joooking! You think I'd build something out of cobblestone? Who am I, Tommy? No, what's your favorite wood?"

"Dark oak."

"GOOD. Me too. So.... we need dark oak. Or, wait! Okay, hear me out."

"I'm hearing..." Dream prompted as he pressed A and D on his keyboard back and forth, earning a giggle from Y/n. He character was bouncing left and right is excitement.

"Dark oak planks..." she started.

"Mhm."

"Stone bricks..."

"Go on."

"And green wool for accents."

"Well, now you're just pandering."

"No!" she laughed. "Not, like, lime wool. Green wool. It's close to you but not as... obnoxiously blinding."

"I trust your vision. I'll go get materials."

"Perfect, you're the best, Dweam."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled before laughing. "You pick out a tree you think would be best for the main part."

40 minutes later, they were nowhere near being done. Y/n had shown him how to make a good house layout after he placed the floor in the shape of a square. She had yelled at him for it first, of course. They also had the frame of the walls and one bridge but nothing on the other side of said bridge. Not wanting the stream to last six hours since this was only the first part of the date, Y/n made a suggestion.

"What if...."

"What if what?" Dream asked, pausing to look at her character, who had stopped fixing his mistakes. "Did I mess something up?"

"No, I was just thinking. What if we make this the whole house and do a little garden on the other side of the bridge? Or like a little cute thing."

"A little cute thing?" Dream laughed.

"You know, like a thing," she said, knowing she hadn't clarified anything. "I forgot this is only date one, you can't read my mind yet."

"Oh, so there are gonna be future dates? I thought this was just to pay off your debt?"

She paused, playing with her hoodie strings between her left hand. "Well, I guess we'll see."

Dream laughed. "So, what little cute thing did you want to make?"

"We could put a bench facing the sunset and have some potted flowers and hang lanterns and stuff."

"Oh, like a romantic spot?"

"I guess if you wanna think of it like that."

"Sounds cute," he said. "So, we have to change the layout in here then?"

"Nah, I mean, we can just not add a kitchen, we obviously don't need one anyway."

"True. Then all we need is to put our bed down, right?"

"Beds," Y/n corrected.

"Well, when they're together it looks like one big bed."

"Who said we're putting out beds together?"

"Buuuuggg..." he whined. "Come on... lemme put my bed next to yours."

She giggled again. What was with all the giggling, sheesh. "No. There's plenty of space, put it somewhere else." She placed her white bed down in the corner and went across the bridge to bring her idea to life, or, to Minecraft.

It only took about ten minutes and she finished when Dream spoke again. "I think I'm done."

"I am too! Let's take one final look around." She went back inside and immediately noticed his bed right next to hers. She stared at his character and he laughed.

"Whaaat?" he asked shyly and she just sighed, letting it happen. They took a look around and agreed that it was basically the best treehouse in the entire universe, both in Minecraft and real life.

"Bug, you're so good at building," Dream complimented as he ran around the house. "What's your favorite part?"

"Ummm...." She looked around before deciding on the bridge. "I like how you made the bridge. And I like the little touches you added to it. It's nice."

"Thanks! I think the 'little cute thing' you did is the best part."

"Shut up, I can't stand you," she scoffed. "But thanks."

"Hey, Bug?" Dream asked, leading her back into the house. He faced the two beds placed together and she prepared herself for the worst joke of all time. "Is this where all the programming talk happens?"

"I knew it! I knew you were gonna say that! Shut up!" She punched Dream as he laughed loudly and she couldn't stop smiling. "You're such a nerd. You're so annoying."

"OH! I have an idea, wait here."

***

It had been a solid eight and a half minutes of Y/n waiting for Dream and he showed no signs of returning. He was silent too, so she resorted to saying random things to get him to crack.

"When will my husband return from war?" she joked, her voice laced with sadness and longing.

There was a small suppressed laugh from his mic, but still no words.

"Sometimes I think I can still hear him laughing at me."

He must have gotten reeeaaalll close to his mic, because his next words, the first ones he had spoken in almost ten minutes, were whispered but she felt like he was in her ear. "I'll be home soon, baby."

Once again, she was so glad her chat couldn't see her because she literally shivered and her face was so warm she felt like she was glowing.

For the first time all stream, her eyes betrayed her and she looked at her chat as she pulled her hoodie collar up to her face.

user18: BUGSY BEIN REEEAL QUIET

user4: i think i just passed out

user11: wHAT ON EARTH DREAM ADKXKH

user7: BUGSY ON GOD BE REAL WITH US WTF IS GOING ON RN

user2: hey bestie i cant do this rn

user9: they can't talk to each other like that and say they're just friends pleASE

Also for the first time all stream, someone dared to donate at her limit (which, again, was ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS).

karakatara donated $100 I had to donate bc I just HAD to tell you how cute you and dream are! honestly my favorite couple ever and I was just wondering how long you've been dating??? love you and your videos!!!!!

It was $100. She had to answer it. Meaning, she had to use words after Dream said that like that and she wasn't sure that was physically possible right now.

"Aren't you going to answer?" Dream taunted.

"Wha—what, are you—you stream watching, you weirdo?" she forced out. "Why?"

"I wanted to read your chat, they're really funny."

"I haven't been reading it."

"What, why? They've been so funny this whole time."

"I've been too scared to."

"Too scared? Of what?"

Of the jokes that she wanted to be real? Of seeing something so cute only to break her heart when she remembers it's all a joke? Of seeing someone hate her for being so close to Dream? Many things.

"Of seeing something... that boosts your ego."

"What? Oh, come on. Hey, answer the dono. Someone gave you their hard earned money for that."

"Yeah, wait, chat, I had the limit that high so you DON'T donate! Why on earth would you—"

"You're avoiding the question."

"We aren't actually dating! Not actually a couple!" she said with a laugh, though something in her heart was very much against laughing at that fact. "Obviously not."

"Well, it's only the first date, so, we'll see I guess, but..."

"I cannot stand you. Thank you so much for the dono, though, Karakatara. You're insane for... yeah. Thank you so much." She turned her attention back to Dream. "Actually though are you ever coming back?"

"Yeah, what, I'm almost there. I see the you staring out the window. ."

When he got inside, he dropped a blue cornflower for Y/n and stepped back. "Okay, now, give that to me."

She followed, not understanding. "For you, Dream." She dropped the flower.

"Aw, Bug! That's so kind! Aw! Thank you! Here's a flower for you, too!" He dropped her a red poppy and then put two item frames on the wall above their beds. He put the blue cornflower above his bed and she followed by putting the red one above hers. "Now that's my favorite part of the house."

"You didn't want to use the real ones? What, did you lose my flower or something?"

"Hell no!" he defended loudly. "No, I just don't want someone to steal that one. It's in my enderchest for safe-keeping."

He said it so casually like it was no big deal, but her heart soared. She too had his flower in her enderchest.

"This," she said dramatically with a sigh, "is now a treehome."

***

"I already told you I'm the best PVP player out there."

"Bug, honey, I've seen you play Bedwars. You're trash."

"Hey!" Hehe, honey. Shut up brain.

"But that's okay! I'm here to teach you."

Y/n's character stood across a makeshift battlefield from Dream's, an axe in hand and armor that was definitely donated by DreamXD on her body. "This is kinda sexist of you. Assuming I know how to name a cute house but not fight."

"Oh no, that's not—crap. Bug, I'm only basing this off of your streams, which I watch all the time—"

Once again, he said something so casual and yet it still made her heart skip three beats and once again, she grabbed the collar of her hoodie and pulled it up to hide her face. This thing had to be stretched by now from how often it was yanked on in this stream alone.

"—and don't get me wrong, you're great! But you're also good at a lot of stuff and—"

"Dream!" she giggled out. "I'm teasing. I admit you're much better than me."

"I wouldn't say much better but... it's the only thing I could possibly teach you anything about because you're just so good at Minecraft." His tone was sarcastic at this point but she knew he was meaning what he said.

"Whatever. Come on, Dream, show me how it's done."

He actually had a lot of very useful tips that Y/n otherwise would have never thought about. I guess when you tryhard Minecraft, she thought, you learn a thing or two about pvp. It was a complete joke, but she still kept it to herself.

"I could basically beat anyone now," she said confidently.

"Yeah, basically. Except maybe Technoblade."

"Nah, even him."

"Let's see how good you really are. To the death."

"What?" She laughed. "You're gonna try to kill me on our date?"

"Yeah, scared?" Seconds later, a creeper exploded near Dream and he screeched, jumping back. Y/n lost it. She laughed loudly, clutching her stomach.

"Dr-Dream!" She laughed. "What the hell was that?"

"It scared me!" he argued. "Here, I'll protect you," he offered, running past her and killing a skeleton that was shooting towards her.

"I don't need protecting, especially from you! Besides, if you're trying to kill me, you'd let the mobs get me."

"No," he decided. "No one's allowed to kill my Bug."

She was literally going to explode. "Wh—"

"Only I get to."

"Dream!" she scoffed, running to kill the skeleton first. She succeeded and he pouted.

"Hey—I did more damage than you, you just had the final hit."

"Really? Cause to me it looks like I'm your knight in shining armor."

"Nuh-uh," he spat.

"Dream. F5 right now, you're covered in arrows."

There was a pause. "Oh whatever." He hit her once and that's all it took for them to start fighting, throwing jokes and taunts at each other the whole time, eventually resulting in a satisfying win for her.

Dream was slain by Bugsy

"WHAT?! HOW?"

<Tubbo> i thogt you were on a date <Ranboo> well definitley not anymore <Ranboo> is that canon <JackManifoldTV> WOMEN

"What was that about you being better than me?" Y/n teased.

"Oh, come ON! I still had damage from the skeleton, and besides, I taught you everything you know!"

"That just makes you a very good teacher, Dream," she said sincerely and he paused, probably expecting her to insult him instead of compliment him.

"Yeah, suck up now that you've murdered me."

***

They were finally at their final stop, three hours into the stream. Not too bad on time, though this was probably the longest Minecraft date in the history of Minecraft dates. Also the best, but maybe Y/n was biased.

There was a huge tree, obviously built instead of naturally generated, with lanterns hanging down and lighting areas of the dark world around them. Under that was a checkered pattern of carpet, a single chest in the center with a potted plant sitting next to it.

"The carpet is supposed to look like a, uh, what's it called... picnic blanket?" Dream explained as they approached the scene, clearly not happy with how it turned out. "It looks weird. Nothing compared to the treehouse you built."

"We built," she corrected. "And this looks awesome, Dream," Y/n complimented. "It's is also my favorite colors."

"Yeah, I had some help from Karl on that one."

She leaned back in her chair in real life and pressed her hands to her face. Oh, it was so unfair how cute he was when he was shy like this. She glanced at chat, which only made her face go from the temperature of molten lava to basically the sun. She was going to explode.

She hummed, a little giggle coming out as well. "That's cute."

She sat (crouched) on the picnic blanket (piece of carpet) while Dream put a disc in the jukebox off to the side.

"Is that a Tommy disc?" she giggled and Dream laughed.

"No, no, no, don't worry. There shouldn't be any continuations of wars interrupting our date."

"Shouldn't be," she emphasized, noticing someone approaching them from the distance.

Dream was about to speak when Quackity reached them and quickly joined the voice channel.

"Oh no," Dream sighed. "We've come so far."

"AYYEEE WHAT'S GOING ON, MAN?!" Quackity yelled in his Mexican Dream voice, his voice bubbling with laughter. "IS THIS A DATE OR SOMETHING, MAN?"

"Quackity, go AWAY!" Dream ordered, punching the character who had stripped to his underwear. "YOU'RE INDECENT! THERE IS A LADY HERE!"

Y/n laughed, enjoying the scene of fancy Dream hitting naked Quackity away from their picnic dinner.

"I'm your waiter, I'm your waiter!" Quackity said in his normal voice, still laughing. "DREAM! WILL YOU STO— QUIT HITTING ME!"

This had turned chaotic very quickly.

"We don't need a waiter," Dream informed him.

"Then I'm the singing gram you ordered." He started singing a song and Dream groaned. "HEY THERE DELILAH WHAT'S IT LIKE IN NEW YORK CITY—"

"No! You're being a clout chaser, go away!"

"I'm honestly impressed we made it this far without anyone coming into the voice channel," Y/n admitted.

"I paid them," Dream joked.

"You did not!" Karl's voice suddenly came through and Y/n laughed. "We were all just being polite and staying away but we're getting bored! We've been so patient!"

"Yeah, hurry up! We wanna play!!!" Sapnap whined. "Dream, it's not fair for you to steal Bugsy from us for so long."

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed with a laugh as Dream laughed along.

"Just ten minutes! Ten more minutes!" Dream bargained but none of them would have it. "Just so I can say goodbye!"

"No!" George insisted. "Right now!"

"Look, wait, wait, hold on—"

"—hold ON!" Dream begged, watching as the three boys ran and joined Quackity by the picnic blanket.

Y/n could not stop laughing at all the avatars around them. The date had been so peaceful and cute but all good things must come to a chaotic end.

"Wait, come on, Karl, Karl, Karl," Dream said quickly. "Come here. Bug, just a sec, please. Stay right there."

"Okay," she agreed, curious to see his plan.

Karl followed him and of course Sapnap couldn't help but also join them.

"Okay," Dream whispered loudly, clearly wanting everyone to hear his offer. He crouched and the other two copied. "Just give me ten minutes—"

"Ten?" Sapnap asked loudly.

"Shhh!!! Yes, ten minutes, to say goodbye and, you know, end the date."

There was a long, thick pause. "What exactly are your intentions with Bugsy Games," Karl asked seriously, matching Dream's whisper.

"Well, I wanna make sure she gets home safe, you know, so I'm gonna drop her off and, I don't know, see if maybe.... maybe she'll give me a hug?"

Karl and Sapnap both gasped dramatically and Y/n giggled, sparing a glance at her chat who were all freaking out.

"What the hell?" Quackity said while laughing. He and George were still standing near Y/n so they were just watching the goons with her.

"Bugsy is not that kind of girl!" Sapnap protested. "You think she's just gonna give you a hug?"

"Sapnap! Do you not know how to whisper???"

George let a loud laugh slip before slapping his hand over his mouth, which his mic picked up.

"Okay, Dream, wait, so you're gonna try to... hug her?" Karl clarified. "She won't even let me hug her. Good luck."

"Well, I'm not going to force her into anything but, I don't know, she said something about holding my hand earlier so I just thought maybe there's a possibility—"

"WHAT?" Karl yelled before going back to the whisper. "Okay, okay, don't panic, but that's huge. Dadnap, a word?"

He and Sapnap broke off from Dream and formed their own huddle, except their whispers were incoherent mumblings that weren't even English.

"Oh my gosh," Y/n groaned loudly, an unmistakable laugh behind her words.

"Okay," Sapnap said, rejoining Dream. "We'll give you five minutes but if you take any longer, we're barging in and killing you."

"Yes, sir!" Dream said. "Thank you, sirs."

"Mhm. Okay, break!"

They all uncrouched in sync before Dream ran back to Y/n.

"How did it go?" she asked as if she didn't hear the entire conversation.

"Bad news," he started. "Your dad's want you home."

"Shame, I was quite enjoying my time."

Dream slowly turned towards the boys as if to glare at them for ending the date before turning back to her. "Then, maybe, I don't know, we could do this again sometime?"

"I.... think I'd like that," she said slowly, trying to tease him.

He giggled and told her he was going to drop her off at her house, even though when the date was over, they were all probably gonna mess around together anyway so there was no point in them leaving the group. But it was the thought that counted.

He ended up taking her back to the treehouse, which warmed her heart. She also noticed when they faced each other at front of the door, she could see the four other boys watching them.

"Goodnight, my sweet Bug," he said poshly.

"Goodnight, Dream." He turned away but she stopped him. "Wait!" She moved to his side and made a loud, MUAH, sound before stepping back in front of him. "A kiss on the cheek," she clarified, not wanting him to think she gave him a real kiss.

"Cute," he said under his breath, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud. "Night night." He turned away and ran down to the others, screaming the whole way. "GUYS, DID YOU SEE THAT? BUG GAVE ME A KISS ON THE CHEEK!! OMG DID YOU SEE, DID YOU SEE?"

Chat was gonna have a field day with that. Actually, with a lot of things that had happened. Oh, she could see the clips and edits now.... oh boy.

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PREVIOUS | NEXT

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Taglist: OPEN (at the time) (bold = couldnt tag)

@theboywhocriedlupin @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @peteysgf @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade @erinitoburrito @sparklykeylime @youhyakuya @danny-devitowo @clubfairy @loser-keiji @oi-itsemily @alm334 @the-katastrophe @wreny24 @applecakeradio @unicornblood4ever @brendalopez99 @spacecluster @justonemoreepisode @strawbrinkofdeath @aikochan4859 @chaotic-tieflings @dreamsofficialwife @where-thesundoesntshine @jamiealenaa @unstableye @kageyamama-hinatatata @officiallyunofficialperson @secretly-a-weeb @localsimp @loxbbg @rhymeorreason1

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #mcty x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcyt x y/n #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #smau #social media fic #dream social media fic

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emkay512 · 3 years

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Once Upon A Time

Chapter 1

Summary: This starts at the beginning of TRR book 2 with the Fydelia ball but with a different series of events. This AU is based off the show Once Upon a Time with Riley and Liam mirroring Snow and Charming. Characters belong to Pixelberry.

A/N: This is my FIRST EVER post and it’s literal trash 😅 I’ve never written before I found you all, and I’ve never had so much fun reading all the stories I found. If you read this please know I’m a complete rookie and I have no idea what I’m doing haha. I welcome and encourage any thoughts and feedback!

A/N 2: my biggest thank you’s to @queenrileyrose and @bbrandy2002 for pre-reading and giving me endless boosts of confidence!!! This first ever, cherry popping post, is in honor of you ❤️

Warnings: This will contain NSFW adult language and content. By reading, you acknowledge you are 18 and over.

I’m tagging those I’ve connected with and thought would be interested. Please let me know if you do or don’t want to be tagged!

@burnsoslow @ao719 @kat-tia801 @callmeellabella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis

The welcome ball had been exhausting. Riley finally saw them, all of them, the good and the bad. Mostly bad with Liam being the exception.. except the fact that with him came his stupid fiancée. She was forced to deal with the Penelope’s and Kiara’s of the court, and got none of the Olivia’s and Drake’s of the world, with Olivia blackmailed and Drake most likely avoiding the court. Majority of the conversations she had to deal with throughout the night consisted of her rebutting all the allegations against her, most people believing that she had jilted their king. At least she had Maxwell and Bertrand, her home away from home. With the maybe two seconds she had Liam to herself and the amount of work and effort she had to put into her first public appearance, she was completely drained and changed from a gown and into more comfortable leggings and tank after she got back to her room of the Fydelia estate. Just as she was decompressing from the stress of her night, there was a knock on the door. She opened the door to see a particular grin on the face of one Maxwell Beaumont carrying a vase of two dozen roses.

“Greetings, little blossom! One of the staff members stopped me on the way of delivering these, asking what room you were in and I insisted on catching you myself.” Maxwell invited himself into her room after handing her the arrangement. Riley pressed the roses to her nose, inhaling the beautiful scent, and she noticed a note wrapped around one of the stems. She unwrapped the note and turned to Maxwell, who had already cozied himself up on her bed, clearly excited to hear what was on the note. “I noticed the paper in the arrangement too, it’s clearly from Liam isn’t it? You did so great tonight and he had the biggest puppy dog eyes on you, I knew his Prince Charming ass would pull off something like this.. well, go on! Read it!”

Riley quickly unwrapped and read Liam’s note, she had no idea the girlish grin she had plastered on and Maxwell was beaming. He had hated these past few weeks so much, he had been watching one of his closest friends, his makeshift sister, live in desperate torment, questioning her worth after hearing nothing from those she cared most about. She put the roses down and placed the note down next to them and looked up at Maxwell, “He wants me to meet him on his balcony in 20 minutes..”

“That is charmingly romantic, but did he slip in his royal socks and tumble down Madeleine’s overly buffed stairs?? He’s clear across the estate, it’s way too dangerous for you to get out of here alone.”

Riley sighed and collapsed onto the bed with Maxwell, “I don’t know Max, his note is sweet and remorseful, but.. maybe this isn’t about getting back together.. maybe I should just focus on helping house Beaumont and getting home..”

Maxwell stretched across to Riley and smacked her across her head, “Come on, Riles! You have been unable to go a single day without asking about him.. at least twice a day! You NEED to go meet him, otherwise I think both of your little fairy tale hearts will die.”

Riley smirked and rolled her eyes, “You’re so dramatic! And please tell me what fairy tale involved a half nude photo scandal and public humiliation leading to a bullshit engagement between a king and the only ice queen that would rival both Olivia and Elsa while singing let it go? Plus, didn’t you just mention that it’d be too dangerous for me to get to him?”

“Hellooooooo?? Ok first of all, literally all fairy tales are structured that way, couple meets and falls in love, and a public enemy curses them with a dramatic, heartbreaking lie, and then they defile all enemies and live happily ever after.. you’re just living the 21st century version of that! Nudes are basically the most vanilla scandal these days anyway. And secondly, have you JUST met mr covert ops extraordinaire, Maxwell Beaumont!? I said it’d be too dangerous for you to go out alone. Let’s just simply walk out together, and if we get any questions, we can just say we’re meeting my brother for.. you know.. this and that diplomacy reason.. whatever, I’ll wing it. Plus, look at you, you’re already dressed for stealth. I just need to get you outside, and then you can scamper over to Liam’s side of the building. Whaddya say, blossom?”

Riley was exhilarated. Maxwell always knew how to say the right things. She locked eyes with him, pointed straight to his chest and said, “You son of a bitch, I’m in.” They shared a mischievous smile and giggled their way out of her room, totally giddy without even shutting the door all the way. They were completely unaware of the royal guard that had been manning her room and slipped inside.

Thanks to Maxwell, Riley had successfully snuck out of the estate and crept to below the balcony of Liam’s room. She had to think fast as to how the hell she’d get up there, and then she spotted the flower vine growing on a trellis against the building, and she let out a small victorious, “Yes!”

But as soon as she took a step in that direction, a hand grabbed her shoulder and jerked her around so she was facing one of the royal guards. “I don’t think so, lady Riley,” he put a heavy sarcastic emphasis on the term lady, as he was clearly disgusted by her newfound tarnished reputation. “You’re coming with us.”

“Us?” And then from behind her, another guard bagged her head and she felt the grip of two men on each of her arms as they forced her to their destination, practically dragging her as they went. Riley’s heart was thundering in her chest. Where were they taking her? Back to the airport? A jail cell? A dungeon? A firing squad? She wasn’t at all expecting what she got. She was sat on a decently comfortable chair. The guards removed the bag and revealed to see she was in a study. A large one. And there before her on the opposite end of a mighty desk, was the king father, Constantine.

Constantine nodded a dismal to both the guards, and they took their leave. “Well, well. If it isn’t the disgraced American.” Riley was utterly confused and could feel the former kings command in the mood of the room. He did not like her, and she could feel his dislike radiating off of him. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, you foolish girl?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You had your exit, your out. You were scandled. Ostracized! I even had you as far as at the airport gates. But no, you came back. You came back and left me back at square one on how to get rid of you!”

Realization dawned to her, “It was YOU!” Riley leapt to her feet. She felt no fear, only anger coursing through her. “YOU staged those photos, YOU unleashed Tariq on me.. and you timed the release of those photos, at the most prime time allowing maximum humiliation and zero time in between Liam’s announcement. You’re despicable, I bet you’re even disappointed that Tariq’s attack on me didn’t end.. didn’t end up the way he planned.” She had deliberately slowed her speech as each new revelation came to play in her head, she had lowered her voice with disdain and disgust.

Constantine let out a scoff-laugh at what he considered to be a poor attempt of exerting dominance. “You’re right, and quite honestly I don’t care what that pompous buffoon would have done to you, but I must say, those pictures certainly did deliver.” Constantine was teasing and patronizing her, “And now you’re here, still trying to get to my son.”

Riley crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at him, “I don’t know what you’re tal-“

“Enough. I know everything.” He waved in front of her the very note that Liam had written inviting her to his balcony that he got from one of the guards. “You poisoned his heart, and now his marriage. And with that, the entire kingdom is poisoned, all because your feelings.” He spit the last word out as if he found it vile.

“I wish feelings could be helped, but they can’t.”

“Of course they can. Love is a disease, and like all diseases, it can be vanquished in one of two ways. A cure, or death.” Constantine stood and leaned both of his palms flat on the surface of the desk. “Do you know where your beloved is right now? He’s right down that hallway, he should be packing for his new life, prepared to take on his engagement tour to unify two Cordonian houses and assume the responsibilities and sacrifices it takes to be king. But no.. He’s pining for you. Awaiting your arrival.”

“And I suppose you intend to keep him that way? Waiting for me, only to be rejected, never knowing I came for him?” Riley’s voice was desperate, but still cunning in reality. She needed him to know her questionnaire was not doubtful, but challenging. That she hated his deliberate intentions.

“No. In fact, you’re gonna walk down that hallway. You’re gonna sneak in and tell him you got his note,” Constantine slid the note across the table, no longer wanting it in his possession, and Riley picked it up. “You’re gonna tell him why you answered his call.. Because you don’t love him. It’ll break his heart.. And that will cure him.”

Wide eyed, Riley could only assume the consequence if she didn’t do as he said, “Or you’ll kill me.” She stated with no question in her mind.

“Oh no. I’ll kill him. Killing you would only make him love you more. And the marriage and kingdom would ultimately crumble.”

“And what about your precious Madeleine? I know how this works this is all about mergers and business transactions. How else would you get Godfrey and his house to join with yours?”

“Please, if Liam were to die at an assassin’s hand, he would die a martyr. Godfrey would forgive, even laud, the death. And the merger would be complete.”

“You would do that to your own son?”

“I’m doing it FOR my son.” Love was once Constantine's weakness and it led to Eleanor’s death. It scarred him and he became brainwashed. Convinced love was the enemy. And now, the product of his foolish love, was Liam, who he groomed to be the perfect king. Constantine applauded himself all these years. It was clear as day that even Leo knew the job belonged to Liam, so Constantine did everything to assuage any of Liam’s hesitation into taking on his duty. He always planned on Liam being the logical one, ready to take on the duty and a loveless union. Then that damn New York trip happened. And that damn Riley came in the picture. Immediately Constantine couldn’t tell if he actually hated Riley, or if he hated the idea that Riley was basically the new version of Eleanor that he’d never have.

#the royal romance #TRR #choices #liam x riley #choices trr #liam x mc #king liam

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washymylifeaway · 3 years

Text

SakuAtsu Fanfic recs

Edit: minor changes (grammar and stuff) cause I rushed this :’)

EDIT: PT 2 IS OUT

OKAY so I meant to make like a long list of MULTIPLE VARIOUS ASSORTED ships but as I was making it I realized I had WAY too many SakuAtsu fics. Like TOO MANY AHHHH. Anyway, I decided that for the sake of everyone, I should just make a separate post LOL oops I’m sorry but I’m so far into SakuAtsu hell it’s not even funny :))))))))) I tried to keep things short so I could not BORE you while reading this post LOL, but also THERE WILL BE A PT 2 because I cut myself short in order to get this out for.....

THE BEST BOY SAKUSA KIYOOMI’S BIRTHDAY I LOVE HIM AND EVERYONE ELSE SHOULD TOO :DDDDDDDDD

As per usual, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for each fic before reading and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

Some of my FAVORITE writers CHECK TAGS AND WARNINGS PLS-

astroeulogy // I LOVE their works and they write BEAUTIFULLY AHHHHH!!! My fav? Possibly Dance of the Parallax by astroeulogy (T) 6.7k, but all of them are SO good! (My love for mythology really be showing here hehe.)

DeathBelle // this writer is on SO many of my posts cause I ADORE the way they write and characterize!!! My fav? Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) 91.2k but you already knew that LOL. I love the other ones too, but mafia? UGH.

hatsuna // ahjfsdjfhkasj need I say more? There isn’t a lot BUT the ones there are so so good! My fav? Pas De Deux by hatsuna (T) 19k surprise :D I love this one for their interactions but also Omi’s childhood! It’s really good (and you don’t even need to understand ballet) <33333

bastigod // again another writer you will be seeing in other posts because their writing gives me LIFE AHHH. My fav? my love, take your time by bastigod (T) 9k again you already knew this, but I LOVE THIS ONE ahagdhls. I have reread this one so many times oops hehe :)

volchitsae // I LOVE THIS WRITER, like some of my favorite SakuAtsu fics are from this writer, like favorites of ALL TIME. Please go read their stuff because I love it so much. My fav? take me to the limit, hold me down there by volchitsae (E) 3.8k this was the fic that got me into their writing, and oops I’ve fallen and I can’t get up haha leave me....

awkwardedgeworth // THE FICS THIS WRITER MAKES AJKASDLK. I love them and everything they make omg!!! My fav? This was SO hard but Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (T) 20.8k cause I’m basic LOL but your flame will not survive in this cold tundra was a close second :’)

TBH, there are more that I don’t have time to get to (I started this a while back but then pretended like it didn’t exist for a while LOL) but these were the ones here hehe :) I could honestly make an ENTIRE fic rec list from these writers alone and it would be WAY too long, so for the sake of everyone,,, MOVING ON

Fics (in no order, but also I’m missing a bunch I LOVE but like I said TIME CONSTRAINTS AHHAHAH RIP)-

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition) by pseudoanalytics (E) 13.7k // this fic made me laugh so much, starting from the fact that there needed to be clarification (which was, after finishing, understood LOL) that this was indeed NOT a fic with a foot fetish.

Routines (and How to Break Them) by cajynn (T) 1.6k // this fic makes them SO CUTE ugh the fluff ajsjkfhajh. I love how Atsumu just slips into everything Omi does (like a snake) ITS SO ADORABLE AHHH.

sense of purpose (or, what comes next) by pseudoanalytics (T) 3.6k // this fic was so HEARTWARMING!!! It made me kinda sad though cause I’m just that kinda person (and I don’t like to think about the past LOLOLOLOL), but the ending was !!! SO !!! CUTE !!! and I love the ending notes (me too Osamu, me too)!

crushed by citruslemonade (strawberrycitrus) (E) 4.2k // I feel like it’s a crime if I don’t mention this fic LOL and it’s very quick and funny! We all want to be the watermelons in this fic and no I don’t take criticism. No thoughts just Miya Atsumu’s thighs :’)))

Clipped To You by littleboat (T) 8.1k // (cp) okay first of all THERE’S ART, second I love Omi in hair clips <3333 It’s really funny with lots of ~pining~ Atsumu and there’s cameo’s of other players,,, it’s just a great time :D

bet on it by selenophim (T) 13.3k // this is a ~classic~ literally I keep seeing this fic because I like to stalk the relationship tags (LOL) and since it’s so good, I keep seeing it (also LOL). This may be SakuAtsu, but this is Osamu supremacy, again I don’t take criticism LOL.

Just as much by Sapphirine (NR) 16.1k // this is peak gay panic as demonstrated by one Miya Atsumu hehe. This fic is so FLUFF but also PINE! I’ll just be sitting here with my 851 million microorganisms to keep me company cause I’M SINGLE LOL.

every action has an equal and opposite reaction by akanemnida (T) 10.4k // nothing to see here, just Sakusa saying things that make Atsumu’s heart stop ;) I love ~caring~ Sakusa so if you do too, read! But also hello? Perfume drop please,,,,

see this through by basilleia (T) 17.7k // I am shamelessly a HARDCORE Atsumu wears glasses fan, once again, I take absolutely no criticism! Again some ~caring~ Sakusa heheh but also love the twin dynamic in this one!

dogshit (first comes the fall) by kitcassiachan (E) 15.8k // PLEASE CHECK WARNINGS! ngl this was one of the first fics I read for this ship and GOD did it get me hooked onto bottom Sakusa agenda (it really hit different). Of course, I’m not promoting the way this relationship happened (don’t have hate s*x), BUT I have nothing to say other than I had no regrets. RIP (not actually but you’ll get what I mean LOL) Bokuto and Ushiwaka for that matter.

let's get physical by rosegoldwriting (T) 4.3k // I really like medical stuff (you’ll see later LOL) BUT even if you don’t still read it cause IT’S FUNNY OKAY. We gotta love boys day and STD’s~~ (also don’t be stupid like him and get hurt to see hot doctors :))))

all i do is crave by newamsterdam (E) 12.7k // were we waiting for me to bring a 5 + 1 to the table? If so, here it is! We do love the olympics and oblivious Astumu~~

lay it on me (no, really) by ayushi_writes (T) 4.2k // please the way I was hesitant to read it at first but then the ‘being very fond and caring in a homie way haha’ made me read it LOL. The fluff (and Astumu being caring because that is another one of my favorite things to read hehe) in this is almost worth the awkwardness that made me want to go put my head into a hole like an ostrich LOLOLOLOL.

ink blossoms by entrechat (T) 8.1k // I think this fic IS SO CUTE OMG. I love the way Omi sits in the shop to draw was ADORABLE and making them do that to get tattoos? Smart af (and v respectful we stan). Also, I love flower meanings :D

crimson colored lotus by sieges (M) 16.5k // (cp) this was a demon slayer AU LOL. TBH I haven’t watched DS, but you honestly don’t really need to in order to read this LOL. It’s explained really well and the writing is AMAZING! It’s not a linear fic, but you can read it in order if you so choose.

where i want to be by tookumade (G) 8.8k // THIS ONE ahhhhhh so cute I love it. Omi trying SO hard in this relationship and Atsumu being so understanding. I love it here :’)))))

three roses and a smile by strawberrycitrus (T) 19.7k // I LOVE THIS ONE not only cause I love professor AUs (I do, I LOVE THOSE) but also it’s just some great writing :D I really love their interactions and the misunderstanding killed me ahhhhh.

If you were wondering, I already have 50+ fics (yes I counted but no I’m not done looking so there will probably have to be some cuts D:) lined up for pt2 AND I took out series in another post, so yeah this is why it’s a cursed draft hahahaa..... I hope you enjoyed cause SakuAtsu is my life and blood.

#sakuatsu #haikyuu fanfic rec #haikyuu fic recs #fanfic recs #manga #anime #omi’s birthday post #cause I love him #pls don’t come for me #I’m getting to the next one soon #I promise #teehee #we’re here for a good time #and a long one too ig?#haikyuu #hq

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years

Text

Simply, yours (13)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: language, description of injury, birth-giving (stuff around it)

A/N: First of all, I apologise it took me over a month to update this story that is so close to my ❤. Hope this update was worth the wait. We have two chapters left! Second of all, this is a tiny roller-coaster haha. Enjoy! Also huge apologies if I left someone out from the tags!!

tags: @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt @luvhtears @shesdreaminginoverdose @cynthbee @jummyjammy @junmyeonnoona @littleflowercrown13 @sebootyforlife (if you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know!)

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13

Winter left Korea completely, and warm spring slowly welcomed itself, together with it your due date as well.

Cherry blossoms were about to be in full bloom and you asked Sukyeong to join you on a weekend stroll while Baekhyun was away on a hapkido competition with the university team. You hated staying alone and he probably hated it even more, given your blood-pressure that still didn’t stabilize itself as it should have, though it never became as severe as before. He even made Sukyeong promise to stay the night at yours so that you could have a “girls night”. When you asked why so suddenly given you barely ever did those before, he just shrugged and said: “Once you give birth you won’t be able to enjoy her company.” And he was right. Both of your lives were about to undergo huge changes, so you supported Baekhyun in doing whatever he wanted and needed to do and the same went for you. The idea that your carefree, independent lifestyle was about to be changed scared you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with walking so much?” asked Sukyeong carefully as you slowly made your way around Socho lake, the highest building of Seoul, Lotte tower, hanging above you, throwing a humongous shade over one side of the lake.

You ran your hand over the huge bump as you smiled. “Yes, don’t worry so much. It’s not like I will give birth right now.”

“You know I’m pretty sure everyone here thinks exactly that.” She looked around, noticing few people giving you a look-over. “Do you always get this many stares?”

You shrugged and took a deep breath of air. The pollution was not bad that day and the sun rays warmed up your skin in a pleasant manner. “Yeah, I do. But what can I do.”

“When is the due date again?”

“Mid-May,” you replied, the mention of the big day dampening your mood for a moment, “but that is if the pregnancy goes as planned. Apparently it’s more than likely I will go into labor earlier.”

Sukyeong tried not to pale at that, instead cleared her throat and pointed to a nearby bench. “Let’s sit. Your feet are terribly swollen,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.

Not wanting to sound stubborn, you followed her even though you wanted to enjoy walking a bit more. It would be a mistake and you knew it, so you sighed big time once finally sitting down, the pressure in your legs easing up a bit.

“Why does Baekhyun still leave when he knows you can go to labor anytime soon?”

“I didn’t say any time soon,” you retorted, giggling at her overprotectiveness. “And I managed to persuade him to do the competitions while he can. If anything the birth might come early May. Which is Baekhyun’s birthday,” you said smiling. “If that wouldn’t be the coolest gift I could give him, whew. Three kids,” you chuckled and Sukyeong followed.

“Well, just make sure you’re healthy. You come first no matter what.”

Her words reminded you of your boss and his daughter-in-law; how she passed away while giving birth. Trying not to let it influence your mood too much, you looked up at the cherry trees through which sunlight was making its way.

“It’s not like I can affect the outcome,” you finally replied, “but I will try my best.”

“You better,” she almost whimpered and you looked at her, just to see her eyes bulged in fear.

“Worst case scenario they will have to open me. Even worse? They might first let my vagina tear up before deciding the rest of the kids need to come out through c-section.”

You giggled when Sukyeong gasped in pure terror at what you just said. It was obvious she didn’t know all the things that could go wrong while giving birth and you weren’t about to spill all the secrets despite you wanting to vent about it because you were scared. So scared. Terrified.

“Can you still have sex after it... happens?” she asked warily.

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I can. But let’s not talk about it, it’s giving me stress.”

She was fast to massage your shoulders. “Yeah, let’s not stress you out. Baekhyun will kill me if he finds out I have as much as made you frown.”

Finally, the days that you would have to wait in the waiting room of your doctor in the clinic were lessening. Bearing three babies, it meant appointment visits every second week. Surely, you would get tired of the place and dread coming every time. Especially when every second week you would be bigger and heavier than the previous one, making it more tiring to come and spend a couple of hours outside of the house.

You looked up with worried eyes at your boyfriend who was reading a leaflet about breastfeeding, which immediately put a gentle smile on your face. The idea of Baekhyun not being scared or deterred of these topics was incredible for you. He was a special man, indeed.

When sensing your stare, he looked up with big puppy eyes, his lower lip caged between his teeth. “Huh? You said something?”

You giggled quietly as to not to disturb other ladies in the waiting room and shuffled a bit closer on the seat to press against his side. “You seem to be way too immersed in that woman's breast, honey.” You flickered your gaze downwards on the leaflet; the smiling lady holding a baby to her breast with an alarmingly slim body, yet obviously very pregnant stomach, sitting uncomfortably with you. They photoshopped everything these days.

Baekhyun gave you a confused look, blinking twice before snapping out of his weird reverie. “Oh, this- no, no,” he shook his head, smiling abashedly which you found absolutely adorable. “I was just thinking that we should talk about your plan about breastfeeding with the doctor. Do you think you can breastfeed three kids?” he asked thoughtfully, waving the leaflet in front of your face while his other hand rested on your thigh, squeezing it so that you would pay attention.

You sighed quietly, already tired at the idea of having to go through that process. It made you feel guilty, but if you were honest with yourself, you were scared and tired and achy and the last thing you wanted to think through was how your breasts would become the main food source for three tiny lives. You quickly rested your head on Baekhyun's shoulder so that he wouldn't see your fading smile. “I haven't thought about that, honey. But you're right. Let's discuss that. Maybe she can give me some life hacks.”

He chuckled softly and you instantly felt better, the sound lifting your spirits. He knocked your knee with his playfully before he settled lower on the chair so that you would be more comfortable.

As your eyes wandered around the room, you noticed several stares of the ladies who were waiting in the room, their gazes lingering on the two of you, some more on Baekhyun and some more on your huge stomach. You swore one of the young ones sighed while eyeing Baekhyun up, and you held back a scoff, feeling sudden pride that he was yours and the kids you were bearing were his.

“Your husband is so caring,” smiled the nurse that was at the reception desk, looking at you. “You both sure will be good parents.”

You pressed your lips together in a shy smile, not telling her that Baekhyun wasn't your husband. Baekhyun didn't say anything, either. The nurse continued anyway, saving you from replying: “You may enter now, the doctor is ready for you.”

“Thank you,” smiled Baekhyun handsomely at her as he swiftly stood up, holding your hand in his gingerly, both of you making your way into the well-known office.

Once settled inside, you faced the ever-so positive doctor of yours. It seemed she was more excited about your pregnancy than you were.

“So, the typical question,” she smiled widely, connecting her long, elegant fingers in front of her face, “any difficulties? Problems? Dizziness caused by blood pressure?”

“No, thankfully none of that.”

“Great,” she winked at you, “the date is fast approaching,” she chirped as she went through your records, “but as I said last time, it is very likely you will go into early labour. There is no need to panic, though, dear,” she told you kindly. “I suppose you know all of this information by now, but just to tell you once again: the best is to go to the hospital once the water broke. Unfortunately, the likeliness of them sending you home only due to slight contractions in state-owned hospitals is very high,” she shrugged, obviously annoyed at the fact. “Therefore, the best is to stay calm, wait until it becomes too much and the water breaks. Until it did, it is only the small prelude to what is about to come.”

Baekhyun was listening carefully despite knowing most of the information already, while you dreaded the entire talk about the moment everything would start happening. You kept imagining the whole process in your head, one imagination worse than the other. It was difficult to point out what exactly was it that scared you so much, but the entire idea of having to go through terrible pain, your body failing, or babies' lives failing was enough to send you into a severe panic attack.

“I can see you are worried,” said the doctor to you. “But it will be alright. Keep it up just like until now. You know, for the fact that you are expecting three, you both seem way too calm and zen about it,” she tried to joke, laughing.

Baekhyun giggled while you gave her a weak smile. “I guess we are trying to preserve the calm atmosphere before the arrival of the three babies,” replied Baekhyun lightheartedly.

You nodded. “But doc, you will be there, right?” you asked in a small tone. “I mean, in the hospital, when it happens.”

She smiled, her features softening. “I am not letting the chance to bring three babies to this world slip away, sweetie. I'll be there, and we will get through it together.”

Gracing her with a gracious smile, you nodded in acknowledgement before Baekhyun brought up the topic about breast-feeding.

“Oh, yes, very good question,” she gave him a huge smile. “You have a couple of options here. Obviously, you may breastfeed and you can also pump. Pumping is the best when having multiples, of course, but it is up to the mother what would work the best for her. Three babies can be quite the handful to breastfeed, but let's not forget that it is the best way to be close to your little ones. Mother's arms are the safest they will ever be.”

Baekhyun smiled down at you affectionately before turning to the doctor. “Yeah, we should still consider pumping-”

“Once the babies are born, we will figure out what works the best,” you chimed in gently, looking at your boyfriend who turned to look at you. You smiled at him. “We still don't know what will happen after the birth, but knowing that pumping is an option is certainly good.”

You knew well what went through Baekhyun's mind at that moment. He didn't like it when you conspired around what would happen after birth, because whenever you did, it almost always led you to two conclusions: either one of the babies would be dead or you would be dead. As much you both fought around it, you couldn't help yourself, and he tried to understand your train of thoughts, just to ease you up, but he would still voice out the hatred around the idea of him losing you.

That was why once you left the clinic, he stopped you on the street, his gaze heavy and serious. “Listen, I just want you to know that-” he took a deep breath, ignoring your eyes looking at him warily, “-whatever the hell happens during birth, you come first. I love our children already, and I couldn't be a more excited father-to-be, but-” he exhaled sharply and held your cheeks in his warm palms, his eyes glistening, “you come first to me. Always. I can't go on without you and if it ever, godforbid, comes to the decision to choose,” he shook his head, already trying to rid his mind of the terrible images, “I am choosing you over...over… the babies,” he whispered eventually, obviously pained.

You could barely make out the gentle features of your obviously scared boyfriend, because of the emotional tears that welled up in your eyes. You crashed into his chest, pushing yourself as far into him as you could, your hand having a death grip on his long-sleeved shirt. His words moved something inside of you, something much deeper than just a simple word of love and adoration. He really could get under your skin and make you feel special even through uttered words. Baekhyun was something so rare and so precious, it made you weep in gratitude. Because he was yours.

“You won't be going to training this evening?” you asked, emerging from the bedroom after your small afternoon nap you grew to be needing so much.

Baekhyun was crafting up some food in the kitchen and it actually made your stomach grumble in hunger. He looked behind his shoulder. “You're up, babe? Yeah, no training tonight for me. Jiyoung can lead the training by herself. I trust her on that.”

You nodded, coming to stand close to him, reaching up with your hand, drawing circles over his back between his prominent shoulder blades. “I'm glad you will be staying.”

“How are you feeling?”

You shrugged, still a little sleepy. “Alright, no pains so far.”

He smiled at you, nudging his chin towards the empty counter next to him. “Give me company?”

You nodded eagerly and he was fast to bring a chair to help you sit up on the counter before moving the chair out of the way. You leaned back on the cabinets while resting your hands on your belly. “What is daddy making, hm?”

“Something very delicious and packed with all the vitamins mummy needs,” he replied nonchalantly as he was chopping up vegetables.

Humming in satisfaction, you watched Baekhyun do his magic around the kitchen.

“Nothing gives you a tummy ache?” he double-checked again when he took out spam from the fridge.

At the sight of spam, you grew even more excited. “Nope! I already can't wait to try the food,” you wiggled your legs in the air and he laughed.

You chatted away the time he was moving around the kitchen, cooking and preparing plates. He was talking about the competitions and how well they had been doing in the ranks which made you proud, because of course Baekhyun would do well. He always did.

Baekhyun cleaned up the kitchen before serving the food on the plates and he walked to stand in front of you with a gorgeous smile. You returned it, opening your legs so he could stand a little closer, which he did. Leaning in and kissing you gently, he hugged you to him, hiding his face in your neck while one of his hands reached for the hem of your shirt, bunching it up to reveal your stomach. He wordlessly caressed it with gentleness before pulling away to give you another kiss on your lips.

“Love you,” he whispered into your lips, pecking you again.

You giggled and he moved his head to your tummy.

“And I also love each and every one of you, my loves,” he mumbled to the bump and pressed three kisses. Just then, you gasped, feeling the discomfort of the well-known action by now. Couple of tiny feet could be seen on your skin covering your stomach, and both you and Baekhyun laughed affectionately when you saw Baekhyun incredibly happy that the babies were so responsive to his honey-like voice. It had been happening for a few weeks now where he would kiss them goodnight or goodmorning and he would receive a kick in greetings.

Your heart swelled with love and warmth, and for a moment you became eager to see him with the babies and how he would play with them and treat them. He would look so lovely, you thought while watching your boyfriend giggle and caress you a bit more before bringing you into a happy kiss.

“I love you, too,” you mumbled in between and he gave you a curious gaze. You smiled. “I didn't say it back just now.” And then you pressed his cheeks together with your hands. “Aaah, what to do with you, you're so cute! Your cheeks!” you screeched in a coo-voice that made him frown at you which only made him look funnier to you. “Wah, but really, Baekhyunnie, what the hell? It isn't fair for you to be so dangerously hot and then suddenly cute like a puppy!”

“Yah, yah, enough,” he muffled through his squeezed lips, “the food will get cold.”

“But you are soooo cuuuteeee!”

“Enou-”

“Who are you this cute for?” you rambled on, giggling happily and finally let go of the poor man.

Baekhyun leaned away, still in shock at your antiques, though you could see amusement glistening in his eyes. “I suggest not to do this to our babies. It's a traumatic experience.”

You burst out laughing and he followed too,when he suddenly became serious and leaned in closer, his breath fanning your ear which sent shivers down your spine, halting your laughing fit. “You're so lucky I can't do anything to you right now, sweetheart. But just know that I am keeping a punishment list for you once you give birth, mummy.” You felt his hands squeezing the outer side of your thighs, his fingers sliding down and under your knees.

You swallowed harshly and looked at him when he turned to look at you. “That was hot.”

He smirked. “So I'm not so cute anymore, huh?”

It has been a day now that you started to feel slight pains just like on the days when you had a strong, painful menstruation. When the first wave hit, you started to get a feeling of what was about to happen. You just didn’t expect it to start happening so... soon. There were still a few weeks left. Were you even ready for what was about to go down very soon? You had to be even if you weren’t.

The next day you went to bed in peace, Baekhyun bringing your body closer to his even when he knew you would grow very warm over the night and shift away. He caressed your bump before he lifted the blanket and your shirt, and moved to kiss the skin tenderly.

“Goodnight, my loves,” he pressed three kisses and kept looking a little longer in hopes to see a kick back in reply. Few days ago one of the babies kept kicking like crazy and Baekhyun concluded it was the hapkido baby. You giggled, already imagining Baekhyun teaching your kids hapkido, them in their little uniforms and having little, clumsy moves.

“No activity today,” he rasped with an amused smile as he lied down next to you properly but you stopped him with a guilty smile. “Huh, what is it?”

“I really need to pee. Can you come with me to the toilet? Pleaseee,” you wailed, trying not to wiggle too much because you were growing uncomfortable with the slow start of contractions and the pee pressing down on your uterus.

Baekhyun smiled and nodded. “Let’s go.” He took your hand and helped you up.

Quickly tiptoeing to the bathroom, once finally inside, he leaned against the sink while you sat down on the toilet, looking up at him with big eyes.

He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, the shirt tightening around his pecks.

You felt a stronger wave of pain in your lower tummy and you groaned gently as your pee seemed to become endless. Baekhyun noticed too.

“Wow, when was the last time you went to the toilet? That’s a lot of pee there, mummy,” he joked, mistaking your groaning for relief but you didn’t feel the relief peeing was supposed to give you anymore.

You raised your butt lightly and looked between your legs (or wherever you could look due to the big tummy) at the water-like liquid streaming strongly down your thighs.

“You okay?” asked Baekhyun, frowning when he saw you looking longer than it was normal.

Another small, but stronger wave of pain washed over your insides and you felt like crying as you looked up at your concerned boyfriend. It was about to start.

“Baekhyun. My water broke.”

“I'm so scared, Baekhyun,” you whimpered when you were in the hospital room, both of you left alone until the contractions would get intense enough to go into labour. “I'm so scared.”

Finally, you could let your guard down. You were heaving, your body already reacting to the pains, growing more and more frequent and painful. Sitting on a huge, pink pilates ball, you tried to sway your body on it while your arm was connected to an IV drip, but there were tears streaming down your face..

“Shh, shh, it's alright, you're alright, baby,” he cooed gently as he sat behind you on a chair to hold you up. “You're doing great.”

You pressed your lips together to prevent an ugly sob. “But what if-”

“No what ifs,” he replied calmly from behind, sweeping your hair back and tying it into a messy ponytail so it wouldn't be in the way. “Everything is going as planned, honey.”

You were quiet for a minute, fighting the bulge in your throat. Your legs were wobbly and it seemed like you were heading straight into a panic attack, which was anything but good.

Baekhyun, sensing your stiff composure, stood up and right in front of you, helping you up on your legs. “Sweetheart,” he mumbled lovingly, searching your gaze. You focused your eyes on him. “I've got you. I'm here and we will get through this together.” He held you close, eventually deciding to hug you. “If you need to cry, do it. Don't hold back.” Lazily, he drew circles over your lower back that he knew was the most painful part of your back. It brought instant relaxation, though you still hissed at another wave of contractions that made your knees weak.

Baekhyun supported you, holding you up as you groaned, hiding your face in his neck. “It hurts,” you whimpered weakly and let out another groan when a strong pull rushed through your lower abdomen. Your breathing grew frantic, sweat breaking around your hairline.

“I think-” you paused, squeezing your eyes shut as the contraction wouldn't go away.

“Let's call the nurse,” suggested Baekhyun before quickly helping you sit down.

You would have called after him to stop him from going away from you, but you lied back down, pushing your legs together, the pain growing almost unbearable.

Nurse arrived quickly followed by your boyfriend who tried his best not to look too shocked. After a quick check-up, the nurse smiled. “We are ready!”

Three babies being born (two girls, one boy) too early, you were separated from them right after squeezing them out. Not having time to even properly hold them, you only got to see the nurses placing them in the blanket before rushing them out of the room while their cries were piercing through your ears. You were swimming between complete exhaustion and overdrive as you cried from pain that came from your body as a woman who just gave birth and at the same time as a mother who couldn't even hold her babies in her arms after finally helping them out and into the world.

Baekhyun was completely helpless, standing next to you and trying to get a glimpse of the little ones, but he wouldn't let go of your hand. You were desperately holding onto him for dear life.

Feeling his own tears roll down his cheeks at what just happened, Baekhyun quickly brought your head to him, hugging it to his chest while you cried, your voice already hoarse from screaming before.

Nurses were roaming around you and it was just a matter of seconds as you heard them telling you they had to stitch you up and your doctor, the ever-so-kind doctor, appeared in front of you. “Give her anesthesia.” She looked at you and Baekhyun, who wouldn't let go of you. “The babies will be alright, but they need to be in the incubator for the time being because of the early birth, sweetie. Please calm down. Right now we have to stitch you up.”

“S-stitch me up?” you stuttered.

She had an apologetic smile and she shot a glance at Baekhyun, who straightened up. “You are severely torn up. So let's quickly tend to the open wound.”

You grew almost sick at the idea and you were sure Baekhyun was completely frozen, though he snapped out of it pretty quickly as you whimpered again in fear. Exhaustion was taking over you quickly.

“You're doing phenomenally, my superwoman,” Baekhyun whispered into your ear as he caressed your hair, pressing multiple kisses there. He was completely shaken up by what he had just witnessed in the past hours, but he had to stay strong for you just a little longer.

You sighed once more before you saw the doctor ducking between your legs again and starting another small intervention.

You closed your eyes and focused on Baekhyun's powerful presence.

You were left without your three babies.

You were left torn open.

But you were alive.

You all were alive.

#baekhyun fanfiction #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance #baekhyun domestic au #baekhyun pregnancy au #exo fluff #exo romance #baekhyun smut #exo smut #mywritings

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Note

I was going to request a Nick fic, but I see you have a lot coming up so I’ll chill ☺️ Instead can I request a Rafael one where him and Liv actually do have some sort of secret thing going on, but reader starts as a new detective with SVU and her and Rafael have an instant connection.

To Love Again

A/N: Heya Anon--never feel hesitant about sending in a request! Even if I’m backed up on someone, I’ll gladly take any request haha!. Anyways, this got...a lot more angst than I meant for it to, whoops. I hop you enjoy (and there’s a small possibility for this to get a sequel, depending on inspiration).

This also jumps perspective, between Rafi and reader. Just a heads-up.

Tags: implied smut, angst with a happy? ending, mentions of sexual assault (no details given), alcohol

Words: 2650

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @dianilaws

It had started one drunken night, by mutual agreement, after a rough case and an even rough loss. Rafael and Olivia had gone out for drinks, to take the edge off after getting back the “not guilty” verdict. To show that they weren’t mad at each other. To show that they could work through the arguments and disagreements they had through the whole trial, the whole case. And the night had ended with Rafael waking up in Olivia’s bed. It was awkward at first, but they had talked about it; they cared for each other, but not in that way. It was simply…stress relief. And it didn’t happen again. Not until another rough loss, about two months later.

“We’re both single adults—we’re being safe about it. Who cares?” Olivia had said one day, and Rafael had agreed. Like they said, they cared about each other. Just not in that way. Who cares if they found relief in each other’s bodies once in a blue moon? It didn’t go beyond that, which was fine with Rafael; his heart was too shriveled up for a relationship, anyways. This was simpler, easier.

**********************

There was a knock on his office door late in the afternoon. Glancing up, he called out for whoever it was to enter, curious as to who was coming to meet with him. He had no appointments at this time, though it wasn’t rare that people stopped by for one thing or another. He quirked an eyebrow though as you entered his office; he had never seen you before.

“Mr. Barba? I’m here to drop off some signed statements from the Jackson case, and to pick up a warrant for Wilson’s apartment,” you said shyly, coming to stand in front of his desk. You held the paperwork out to him, and he took it from you, that eyebrow still raised. You swallowed nervously as his bright green eyes roamed over your face.

“And who are you?” Rafael asked. His voice was light, a conversational tone.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “Oh! Detective [Y/L/N]; I just started with SVU a few days ago. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself,” you replied, smiling sheepishly and holding out your hand.

His lips twitched up at the corners, and he took your hand, shaking it. Olivia had told him that she was getting a new detective soon, but he didn’t know she already did. Nor that you would look so….

“You said the Wilson warrant, correct?” Rafael asked, pulling his hand back, flipping through files.

“That’s the one.” You watched his fingers run over the pages on his desk, flicking through the paper. Your face grew warmer as you thought about what those fingers would feel like against your skin, moving down your body, pushing under your pants….

“Ah, here it is,” he said, breaking you out of your lewd thoughts. He passed the folded warrant to you, and you thanked him, face now completely on fire. His eyes were sparkling with mischief, as if he knew exactly where your mind had been. “Would you like to get a nightcap with me tonight, Detective? Get to know each other a little better?”

Your breath hitched. “I-I’d like that very much,” you replied, smiling at him. “I’m off at 8 tonight. Is that alright?”

Rafael nodded. “Of course. Meet me at Forlini’s after you’re off.”

You turned to leave, warrant in hand, then you remembered that your new business cards had come in, with your personal cell phone number on it. Taking one from your pocket, you handed it to Rafael. “Here’s my number…if I’m late, feel free to text. I’m the new kid, so don’t be surprised it I get stuck with OT,” you laughed, and he smirked, tucking the card into his pocket.

***********************

You made it to Forlini’s shortly after you got off; no OT, not tonight. Rafael was already sitting at the bar, a glass of amber liquid in front of him. His suit jacket was off, hanging over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms, and you had a moment to stare before he turned and saw you heading over towards him.

“Detective,” Rafael greeted, nodding towards you, a grin on his face. “What are you drinking?”

“Ah, vodka cranberry. I’m on call tonight, so only one drink for me,” you smiled back at him. You could hold your liquor well enough that one drink wouldn’t kill you. But that was it; you didn’t want to mess anything up, especially this early in your new career as detective. You worked too hard to get here.

Rafael nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair enough.” He waved down the bartender, ordering your drink onto his tab.

“Thank you,” you said, to both the bartender and Rafael as you were handed your drink. You both sat in silence, sipping your drinks, eyeing each other. Rafael was, well, attractive. You had heard about him, of course; when Olivia had sent you to get a warrant earlier that evening, everyone in the department had a warning for you about his sass, his sarcasm. But he seemed nice enough, and those eyes…those forearms…those fingers….

“What made you decide to go for SVU?” he asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve always wanted to help people. And so many of my friends were…assaulted when I was younger, back before we knew what the word meant. I’ve seen firsthand what it can do…what it does to people. And if I can help even one person reclaim their life, then it’s all worth it.” You didn’t mean to go so in depth, but once you started talking, you realized you couldn’t stop. And something about Rafael seemed…comforting. Like you wanted to tell him your whole life story. Maybe that’s why his conviction record was so high.

He nodded along with you, his eyes boring into you, watching you intently. “That’s a noble cause. You do realize that there’s a lot of grey areas in this job, though, right? And that the justice system doesn’t always win out?” He said it matter-of-factly, his voice unwavering. But there was a slight sadness underneath, tinting his eyes as he said it.

“I-I know…. We won’t always get our guy. We won’t always win. But the fight is worth it, if only to validate the victims, to put the behavior in the spotlight, to make it easier for the next victim,” you sighed, “because there will always be another victim.”

Rafael noticed how your voice had changed and decided to go for a lighter topic. “So, who’s your partner?”

“Uh, Fin, so he can keep an eye on me. And also Carisi—he tells me it’s because it’s getting colder and Fin doesn’t want to leave the warmth of the precinct,” you answered, smiling slightly.

“Stuck with Fordham, huh? I don’t know how you’re going to stay sane with him. He’s started shadowing me, and I already have a headache just thinking about it.”

You laughed, and Rafael chuckled. “Come on, he’s not that bad. A little excitable…. That’s cool that he’s shadowing you, though. Getting some hands-on experience.”

“Yeah, cool for him. Though, I have to admit, he has some…decent points every now and again,” Rafael conceded. Then, he gave you a sharp look, “you are to never tell him that I said that.”

**********************

Conversation flowed easily between you two, and you ended up staying much later than you thought at Forlini’s, simply chatting with the counselor. You switched to water after your one drink, making sure you had a clear mind in case you were called in. But by 11pm, you still hadn’t received a call, and you were getting tired.

“I think I should head home…I got work in the morning,” you said reluctantly. You didn’t want to leave; you were having a lot of fun with Rafael. You had no idea why the other detectives had warned you about him.

“I’ll walk you out,” Rafael replied, finishing his drink and waving the bartender down. You waited while he paid, thanking him again for your drink. And then he was leading you out of the bar, his hand on your lower back, sending electricity through you.

“Thank you for tonight, Rafael; I had a lot of fun talking with you,” you smiled at him.

He grinned back at you, waving down a cab for you. “I had a good time, too. I’m excited to work with you.” A cab pulled up, and he opened the door for you. You brushed past him, and he grabbed your elbow, turning you back to him. His lips were suddenly on yours, the kiss gentle, innocent. You froze for a moment before you kissed him back, savoring the taste, the feel of him against you. Pulling back, you both looked at each other, panting slightly. It took your brain a moment to catch up to what just happened, and now that it did, you panicked, mumbling a goodnight, and climbing into the taxi, leaving Rafael standing on the sidewalk.

*************************

He wasn’t sure what had come over him, what had possessed him to kiss you in front of Forlini’s. This was…different than what he had with Olivia. With Liv, it was all stress that was shoved down, down until it burst out of both of them. There were no feelings when it came to sleeping with Liv, just primal urges, actions. But sitting in Forlini’s, talking to you, Rafael felt….

That was just the problem, wasn’t it? Rafael felt, something that hasn’t happened in so long, he almost forgot what it meant to feel, what it…felt like. And you had returned the kiss! But then, before he could even attempt a next step—whether it was an apology or inviting himself over to your place, even he wasn’t sure—your eyes had gone wide with surprise, and you had fled. And now, Rafael was at a loss for what to do. He had your number; should he call you? Text? Should he apologize? Or should he lay on the charm, try and slip into your pants, your bed? And what the fuck was he going to tell Liv? Sorry, we can’t sleep together anymore cause I’m fucking your new detective? But that wasn’t even true yet! Sighing, he went back into Forlini’s, ordering another drink.

************************

Thankfully, one of these situations had fixed themselves…though, it still fucking hurt. Olivia had come into Rafael’s office late one night, a few days after the incident at Forlini’s, closing and locking the door—the tell-tale sign that they were going to discuss some…personal matters.

“We can’t do this anymore, Rafa,” Liv had murmured, her voice soft. Even in his secluded office, the walls had ears. And while she was being vague on purpose, Rafael understood immediately.

“What’s changed?” he asked idly. He wasn’t…mad, but he was a little surprised, and hurt. He had enjoyed having a warm body in his bed, rather than his hand.

“I’ve…” Olivia dropped her voice lower, and Rafael had to strain her ears to hear her. “I’ve started seeing someone.” Rafael nodded, keeping his face neutral. He was happy for his friend; she deserved someone who loved her, cared for her. But he couldn’t stop the jealousy that cropped up. Not so much at her, but at the fact that she had found someone.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Rafael smirked, going back to the motion he was currently filling out. He thought back to the kiss with you, and his heart constricted.

“Are we okay?” Liv asked, her voice low.

Rafael glanced up at her, his eyes softening. “Of course, we are. I’ll always care about you, Liv. And I’m happy you found someone.”

Olivia nodded once, her hand rubbing Rafael’s shoulder lovingly, before she left his office. Sighing, he pulled out his phone, your card, and typed in your number.

************************

You didn’t know why you answered your phone when an unknown number called, nor why you gave him your address when you learned it was Rafael. You weren’t entirely sure why you let him into your apartment when he showed up 20 minutes later, nor why you opened the bottle of spice rum when he asked if you had alcohol. But the most confounding thing to you was when he kissed you again, you didn’t stop him. In fact, you escalated it, pulling his shirt off.

Groaning as you woke up, you froze as you felt strong arms around your naked body, a warm chest against your back, a heavy breath tickling your neck. Oh fuck, you didn’t…no way. But the soreness between your legs, your naked body against his, and your memories of the night prior were slowly coming back to you, and you grimaced. You were not the type of person to sleep with someone you had just met, drunk or not. It didn’t matter that you found him attractive, or that from what you remembered, the sex was phenomenal. This wasn’t you, so what happened?

“Morning,” Rafael’s voice was still thick with sleep, husky in your ear. His lips brushed over your shoulder, his arms tugging you tighter against him.

“Uh, morning Rafael,” you replied softly. But he heard the hesitance in your voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his breath warm on your skin.

You sighed, rolling over to look at him. “This…I don’t know how to say this…” you trailed off, and he furrowed his brow. “I’m…I don’t just…sleep around with people….”

Realization swept over his face. “Oh. I’m…I’m sorry. You seemed…you seemed okay with it last night. And I used a condom—”

“No, I’m not blaming you, I promise.” You sighed, looking away. The sadness, the regret on his face was too much for you to bare. “I mean…I like you, Rafael, but I don’t know you.”

In the softest voice, he said, “this is…this is all I know. I’m so sorry.” He rolled over, pulling away from you. He got out of bed, moving around your room, grabbing his clothes, and pulling on articles of clothing as he went.

You watched in silence, your heart breaking. What did that mean? “I’d like to, though…know you, that is.” Rafael turned to look at you, his brow furrowed once more. “But let’s take it slow, go out on a date or two, learn about each other.”

“A date?”

You smiled softly at him. “You have been on a date, right?” you joked.

“…not in many, many years.”

Your smile faded and your heart strained for the man—that kiss at Forlini’s and last night made so much more sense now. You wondered when the last time he felt genuine love was…and how badly it must’ve ended for him to be this broken over it.

“Then I’ll remind you. We’ll go slow, take baby steps…that is, if you want,” you said.

Rafael nodded, his head barely moving, and he blinked away the tears that threatened to form. “I’d like that. You’ll…you’ll have to be patient with me,” he warned.

“Lucky for you, I have all the patience of a detective,” you grinned, and his lips twitched upwards. “Let’s start with lunch. Today work for you?”

He nodded once more, then left your room to let you dress. This could work; you’d teach the counselor about love again, let the walls around his heart down, let him feel again. Rafael was, of course, afraid of being hurt again; he felt like his heart still wasn’t fully put back together. But after this many years, he alone obviously wasn’t enough for the job. Maybe he needed someone else to help. And he trusted you, more than he thought he could after everything he’s gone through throughout his life, especially since you had just met. Sure, he was terrified about all of this. But for you…for you, he was willing to try.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #the slightest bit of barson #but not a focus and it ends p quickly #Anonymous

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