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myfictionaldreams · 7 months

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Day 9: Size Kink - Ari Levinson

Summary: Ari was your grumpy (handsome) boss, who never smiled at anyone. So why did he care so much if you smiled at someone else?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, grumpy vs sunshine, arguments, size difference, size kink (Ari is huge in every way), showing off strength, manhandling, spit as lube, fingering, possessive, rough sex

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It had been a long day already; the sun was beaming down, which meant the bar was packed to capacity, with endless drinks and money being swapped. You thrived on days like this, enjoying the perks an extra broad smile could get you from willing customers who hadn’t appreciated service with a smile. Today, there was one specific customer, Matt, who was sitting on a stool in the middle of the bar and had been complimenting you for the entire afternoon.

He was harmless and continuously gave you tips with every drink, so you plastered a great, broad, fake smile that ached your cheeks every time you went near him. Ari watched from the end of the bar at how you smiled towards the stranger and how the man smiled back, and the second your back was turned, his eyes would be searching your body greedily.

Ari’s hand tightened around the beer bottle to the point that he was close to shattering it and had to take a long breath through his nose to calm himself down. Yet, he continued to watch. He always used the excuse that because he was the boss, he needed to keep a close eye on the goings on in his establishment and his employees, but deep down, he knew there was another reason he was always sitting at the bar rather than in his office.

The liquor you needed for your requested drink was empty as you lifted it to show the customer with a closed-lipped smile, “need a new one”, you quickly explained before leaving out the back of the bar.

All of the stock was kept in the cellar, so you descended the steps carefully, taking your time to have a quiet moment to yourself. Scanning the rows of liquid against the wall, you sighed, seeing that the one bottle you needed was on the highest shelf, which you would struggle to reach. Straining up on the tips of your toes, your arm stretched out as far as it could, reaching for the bottle, but a searing warmth burned through the clothes on your lower back as Ari pressed against it, using it as leverage to reach above you to grab the liquor easily.

You jumped at his sudden presence but were also not surprised, as he usually found an excuse to follow you throughout the bar. Peering up at him, you exclaimed, “God, Ari, you scared me. Wait, what’s that look for? What’s wrong?”.

He didn’t say a word, but you knew something wasn’t right by the angry scowl, which usually softened whenever you smiled up at him like you were attempting to do now. Unlike behind the bar, this smile was genuine, and the joy reached your eyes, making them appear as if they were twinkling. Ari would always do feats like this, showing off his staggering size and strength so that he could experience this smile to the point that he seemed to be always standing over you, with his towering height that made your neck ache, one of the few people to make you feel small in stature, dainty even, especially when he became all dominant and acting like the resident bodyguard for the bar. Everyone knew not to mess with the boss.

It was hard not to fall for him; sure that everyone who was attracted to a man fell in love with him as soon as they saw him sitting at the bar or over your shoulder. To be truthful, there were times when you faked not being able to lift a table or heavy pot of glasses just so that he could come and lift things whilst you oggled at his psychic, but he was happy to help, even though he always had that deep frown.

The frown that he was currently still looking at you with enough that it had you feeling slightly uneasy as you looked away to the alcohol in his hand, reaching for it. “Oh, thank you! Don’t think I would have been able to reach that anyway.” Your hand extended to grab the bottle, but he held it back and out of your reach.

Ari’s eyes darkened in colour as he stepped forward, and instinctively, you stepped back until you were pressed against the cool brick wall with his towering body hovering over yours, his arm resting above your head. Despite stepping away from him, the stance didn’t phase you. Once again, he was doing it to show off the size difference, and you made sure not to waver with your smile, still beaming up at him.

Ari’s shoulder-length hair fell to shadow his handsome face, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through the soft strands and brush them behind his ears. Even though he may appear threatening, you trusted Ari with your entire life, and the two of you always seemed to be teetering on the edge of being flirtatious. Still, you’d never have the courage to make a move, mainly because he was your boss.

The giant man studied you for a long moment, inspecting your face to the point you became self-conscious until they lingered on your smiling lips.

“You need to stop smiling at him”, Ari demanded with his voice low and gravely. Your smile finally dropped as you released a choked laugh, causing your shoulders to shake with the force.

“What? Smiling at who?” you asked, dumbfounded. He gestures with his head, nodding towards the stairs and to the bar when it finally dawned on you who he was referring to. Crossing your arms over your chest, you continued, “What? Matt, the guy at the bar? He’s harmless, and didn’t you always tell us that we need to serve our drinks with a smile?” As you teased Ari, you raised onto your tiptoes to lean closer and gloat the broad smile that was back on your face.

He didn’t break, continuing to frown, but now his shoulders were tense. “You need to stop”, he growled, stepping even closer until you could feel the warmth from his chest, “You don’t know what he wants, so stop smiling at him; he’ll get his hopes up”.

“Oh, and you know what he wants, do you? You can’t be upset with me because I’m being nice to a customer, and what makes this smile different to all the others that I’ve given to the others?”. You’d come to the realisation that Ari was most likely jealous, and even though it made your heart pound in your chest and excitement wanting to burst from your smile, you had tried to act like you usually did. Even though seeing him being somewhat possessive and obvious with his feelings made you want to shout it from the rooftop.

“Not. With. Him”, Ari grounds out each word with enough venom that you almost wanted to shrink away.

“Fine”, you say with confidence whilst shrugging your shoulders, “So who am I allowed to smile at then? I like happiness and want to smile at someone who returns it. Who else am I supposed to do it with because you sure as hell don’t smile at me”.

Ari doesn't say anything, so you lift a hand and rest it on his shoulders before tapping with your fingers and resisting the urge to give the muscles that you could feel a good squeeze. “You need to relax a little, Boss, it’s fine. I won’t smile at him, I promise. Now, can I go back to work, please?”

All he does is grunt in answer, giving him a Neanderthal appearance as he holds out the bottle of liquor and moves away from the wall to provide you with room to move past him. Accepting the bottle, you thanked him genuinely before walking back towards the stairs with him only an inch behind.

Returning to the bar, you’d expected him to return to his seat at the end, but he stood behind you, staring at Matt with his arms crossed. You wanted to sigh but thought it best not to poke the bear, as they say, especially when he was so riled up.

Pouring the guy's drink, you passed it to him and stated the price, all without a smile. The customer didn’t look in your direction as he eyed Ari, asking, “What’s his problem?” All you did was shrug in response whilst handing out your hand still for the money. Instead of reading the situation and knowing when to keep his mouth closed, Matt made the mistake of muttering under his breath, “I bet he’s an asshole to work for”.

The money for the drink fell into the centre of your palm just as Ari suddenly was at your back, but you tried to push him back, feeling the heat already burning your face with anger as you pointed towards the door. “Get out”, you demanded confidently.

“What?” Matt shouted, astonished that you’d even say such a thing.

“You heard me; get the fuck out” The adrenaline was deciding your actions as you became increasingly angry at what he’d said about Ari. Slamming the money onto the bar counter, you pointed at the door again for emphasis.

Matt finally snapped, kicking back his stool and slamming his drink on the counter, “Are you fucking joking? I’ve just paid for this drink; I’m not leaving!”

Once again, you weren’t sure logic was in control of your body anymore as you did something so out of character it shocked even Ari. Reaching over the bar, you grabbed the drink and poured it over the guy's head before pointing at the door once more, “You don’t have a drink anymore. I’m not asking again. Get the fuck out of his bar, NOW. You don’t talk about the boss like that”.

It was a rare day when you truly lost your temper, so the entire bar had quietened by this point and stared in anticipation. Thankfully, even though the guy looked ready to throw his chair at your head, he instead turned and stumbled out of the doors.

As the atmosphere began to return to normal, the realisation of what you’d just done came to you. Your fingers began to tremble as anxiety sat heavy in your stomach as you tried to take a deep, steadying breath.

That burning, warm palm returned to your lower back as Ari dipped his head to whisper into your ear, “My office, now.” Trying to ignore everyone else's stares, you moved past him as he nodded to the other bar staff to cover your area of the bar whilst he followed you out.

You walk, anger still prevalent even with the anxiety worsening as you realise that you’d technically assaulted one of the customers by throwing his drink at him. What if you get reported? What if Ari thinks you’ve gone too far?

You’re nervously chewing on your thumb when you reach his office at the back of the building. You looked around at the scarcely decorated room with a desk, two chairs and closed blinds so that it was only just illuminated by streaks of sunlight but nothing else, so it was dimly lit. Ari hardly ever used this room, which is why you knew you were in trouble, especially needing a private space to reprimand you so no one could hear if he wanted to shout.

Walking into the centre of the room, you jumped on the spot, turning towards the door that had just been slammed closed by your boss. He stalked towards you, head tilted low as he backed you into a wall like in the cellar.

“I’m so fucking done”, Ari seethed, a vein bulging in his temple and tense muscles lining his arms and shoulders.

You were initially unsure what to say, your lower lip trembling as the anger seeped away, and only the nerves remained. “I’m sorry, Ari, I shouldn’t have thrown the drink at him. I don’t know what I was thinking”.

You had lost confidence and lowered your face to look at the carpeted floor, but Ari was quick to grip your chin in his thumb and forefinger and tilt your face so you were looking back into his bearded face. His voice was low and steady as he spoke, “I am so fucking done with this bullshit cat-and-mouse game we have going on”.

This caught you off guard as you blinked away the anxiety, asking, “What?”

Ari dipped his face even lower, and you took a moment to appreciate how big he was and how much lower he had to make himself so that you were face to face. With him this close, you could smell the aftershave he’d sprayed onto his neck this morning, smelling spicy and had your mouth drooling.

“I’m your boss”, Ari interrupted your dirty thoughts, “It’s unprofessional the things that I dream about, but you make it so fucking difficult to remain your boss when you’re smiling all the time. I want to kiss that smile away so you can return to work and stop distracting me. But today, seeing you there shouting at that asshole for me. I can’t stay professional much longer, so here’s your chance. Leave and walk out that door right now, and we’ll never talk about this again, but if you stay”, his eyes lowered from your lips to assess your body in the darkness. “If you stay, I promise you there will be no other thoughts than my name coming out of your pretty little mouth”.

Ari gave you a moment to contemplate and decide. You, however, were not thinking at all, your mind was empty, and the only response was the warming of your cunt, clenching already around nothing as you knew there was no way you were leaving.

Your arms wrapped around his neck before any of your anxiety returned, pulling him down for a heated kiss. Mouths moving with need against the other, causing Ari to moan; actually, MOAN into your mouth as his lips instantly parted and warm tongue brushed against yours. His arms were around your waist, pulling you as close as possible until your breasts were squished against his firm chest.

It felt like your boss was completely surrounding you as his arms expanded over the area of your back, just as firm as his chest, and you could feel the muscles bulging beneath his plaid shirt. Your feet were suddenly off the floor as he lifted you into his arms, your legs securely wrapping around his waist as one of his arms rested beneath your arse as your back connected with the wall again.

He tasted so good, even though it mainly tasted of the beer he’d been drinking; you’ve fantasised about this moment for months. He was just as dominant as you’d predicted, his mouth forcing yours more open to caress his tongue further into your face, almost like he couldn’t reach far enough within and needed to feel every crevice. The hand that wasn’t supporting your weight then moved to your cheek, his long fingers stretching so far they wrapped around the back of your head as he tilted your head slightly to once again attempt to deepen the kiss.

Ari’s jean-covered hips then ground against yours, stoking the fire inside your cunt more. His actions were desperate, wanting to feel every single part of you. It was almost overstimulating to your senses because all you’d managed to do was keep up with the pace of his tongue and lips and stroke your fingers through his hair just as you wanted to do. But Ari, he was all over you, his mouth now exploring your throat, sucking and biting on the areas that made you moan more and send tingles between your thighs.

The sound of clothes ripping then echoed around the office as Ari had become frustrated with the amount of clothes you wore that was stopping his exploration. Your shirt disappeared with a single tear down the middle and then disintegrated onto the floor. Once again, he was showing off his strength, and you really didn’t care, completely and utterly, at this disposal, especially when his mouth was now sucking on your left nipple.

He lapped against the sensitive bud with his tongue flat, then sucked it into his mouth, a tight seal forming with his lips before gently biting with his sharp teeth, causing your back to arch and fingers to grip more firmly into his locks. Ari moved to the other breasts as his fingers then replaced his tongue with the wet breast, pinching and pulling until you were begging for him to touch you there.

Your mewls were not stifled at all, head tipped back and mouth wide open; nothing was filtering your volume, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you were thankful that the bar was so busy that the music and talking would hopefully cover your moans of joy.

“Ari! Please give me more!” Pulling on his slightly damp hair from the sweat, you forced his face away from your breasts so that you could devour his mouth. His hips thrust harder into yours, and even though you were both still clothed, you could feel the hardness waiting for you in his tented jeans.

Tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth, Ari groaned and asked, “Tell me you want this, one last chance to change your mind”.

“I need this, Ari, don’t stop”.

Your back left the comfort of the wall as he began to carry you over to his desk, holding you up with one arm. The other wiped any objects onto the floor, giving him the area to lie across.

The wooden surface was cool and welcoming as he again started kissing you, both hands cupping your jaw, holding you firmly in place. Lower he moved, down your throat, collar bones and breasts. As he licked over your stomach, he finally reached to undo your jean button. As he kissed lower, he pulled the material down with him, and only when you felt startling bare did you realise that your underwear had been removed as well.

Sitting up onto your elbows, you silky commented, “You’re wearing too many clothes”. You’d wanted to explore his body with your mouth, but he was just so tall and muscular that you weren’t able to reach him even if you sat up entirely on the desk, so with a rush, you pulled on his shirt, attempting to help remove it from his body and then the same with his jeans. You noticed how his muscles were defined as they became revealed; his abs, covered in a sprinkling of hair, had your mouth watering to touch and lick, but you became distracted by what was between his legs.

Ari Levinson was fucking huge. It was definitely the most enormous cock you’d ever been with, and it shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. His shaft was thick, and a few veins bulged like he had in his temple when mad. The tip was bulbous, glistening in precum and a deeper shade of red than the rest of his cock. Even his balls that rested beneath his length seemed more prominent than usual, and for a fleeting moment, you contemplated if it was even going to fit.

Seemingly reading your mind, Ari grasped the base of his cock that seemed to throb as your eyes moved up and down it, “Don’t worry, Princess, it’ll fit”.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you wanted to tease him a little, so you leaned forward to kiss the tip, your lips becoming salty from his juices. As you licked up the taste, Ari hissed in a breath and pushed against your chest until you were lying lengthways against the desk once more.

As he had been before, Ari manhandled you with ease, lifting one of your legs until it rested on your shoulder. You thought he was going to start fucking you straight away; however, he was just giving his hand a better position. Whilst keeping his eyes on yours, Ari spits a glob directly onto your already-soaked pussy, collecting it with his index finger before pushing it into your cunt. Your back arched into the touch; even his fingers felt thick and made you feel full. He twirled his digit, doing this mostly to stretch and pleasure you. That could be for another time, but right now, he needed to fuck you but respectfully not hurt you either.

One finger turned into two as he added his middle digit, scissoring them both, which made your hole squelch from all of the liquids. One more finger was added, and you felt fuller than ever before. The entrance to your pussy burned slightly from having three of his fingers coaxing you wider, in and out slowly, whilst turning and opening your hole. Your thighs were trembling from the stimulation already, breaths hot and heavy as you gripped the edge of the desk above your head.

How did you even end up in this situation with your boss in his office, customers and staff just outside the door as his fingers pumped into you with expert ease to attempt to fit his cock.

Your leg dropped from his shoulder, but only so he could wrap them both around his waist as he moved closer, a hand next to your head whilst the other gripped the base of his cock as you realised he was finally, at long last, lining up with your throbbing cunt. Reaching you, your fingers dig into his shoulders, gripping him like you’d always dreamed of as his tip slotted to your entrance.

Slowly, he began to push in, and your cries turned desperate. It burned more than the three fingers; his cock was so girthy and thick that you had to concentrate on taking deep breaths to remain relaxed. Inch after inch, he pushed in, and even though the burn didn’t fade immediately, you already loved the sensation of it. It was intense but something only he could provide for you, and with time, your body adjusted, and soon you were trying to rock your hips. Even though he wasn’t even fully penetrated, his tip was pushing into your cervix.

“Ari, you’re so fucking big, Jesus Christ!” your mouth dropped open as high-pitched cries filled the thick, pleasured air.

For one beautiful second, Ari actually chuckled at your desperate reactions, wanting to stay in that moment forever, seeing you laid out beneath him like his own personal platter.

As your warm, gummy walls clenched around his cock did he snap out of his admiration. Still being careful, he moved in and out slowly and held onto your waist tightly to keep you from sliding down the desk with how tightly your cunt was hugging his cock.

Eventually, you became used to it a bit more, which meant that you began to beg for it harder, needing to feel him closer, so he dropped himself down until his lips were next to your ear and his hand around your throat to hold you still.

“You’re mine, do you understand that?” he growled with a promise never to let you go.

That beautiful grin he loved so much was suddenly beaming up at him, your fingers moving to grip the wrist that was golding your throat as you declared, “I’m all yours, Ari Levinson”.

“Fuck, I love that smile”, he admits between thrusts, his eyes unblinking so that he didn’t miss a single twitch of your face as it flooded with pleasure. However, his need to taste you took over once more as he kissed you deeply, groaning and squeezing your throat a little harder but not enough to cut off your air.

The wetness of your pussy leaked over your thighs as his desk wobbled with each thrust. Your entire body felt like it was on fire which all resonated down to your core, feeling it tighten to match the hardening in your gummy walls, suffocating his cock further in its harsh grip.

“So big, you’re so damn big, Ari, fuck I’m going to cum”, you shouted, pulling on his hair to snap his head back so that you could breathe and shout out between thrusts. He leaned up on his arm to watch your reactions again, from the furrowed eyebrows, eyes wide and pupils blown, the swollen lips that were forming the perfect O shape as you finally came.

Your cunt had been stretched so wide that when you came, you could feel it more in your abdomen than the contractions that usually fluttered through your walls. The orgasm, therefore, lasted longer because you were overstimulated and confused with the sensation. Still, even though you couldn’t necessarily feel how your pussy squeezed, Ari sure could as he cursed loudly, releasing your neck to slam his hand on the desk as he unexpectedly pulled out just as he began to cum.

Looking between your bodies, you watched in amazement as thick spurts of his seed shot out the end of his cock and coated your stomach. With his cock now resting over your body as he shouted through his orgasm, you could see that if he had been able to fit his entire cock inside of you, it would have reached your navel. It was that big.

As both of your moans quiet to just heavy breathing, your head dropped back onto the desk, arms and legs having no more energy, also collapsed to your side. Thankfully, Ari could see the exhaustion you were experiencing, and once he’d calmed down enough, he found a box of tissues on the floor and gently wiped away the mess he’d created on your stomach.

Peaking open an eye, you looked down your body towards where your boss knelt, “I hope you aren’t expecting me to go back to work.” your voice was thick and croaky as you smiled down at him. His blue eyes flicked up to your tired face as he raised a single eyebrow, midwipe, so you continued, “I don’t think I can walk, and you’ve ripped my shirt”.

Ari smirked, standing up again to throw the tissue into the bin. He looked your body up and down, “You know, you could just wear my shirt”.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down well with everyone like it wasn’t already obvious that we’ve come in here for a quick fuck”.

His body leans forward, hovering over yours, all bulging muscles and hulking size making you feel small again as he confidently states, “Well, they better get used to it. You’re mine, remember?”.

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson one shot #red sea diving resort #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

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prncessjaeger · 4 months

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eren and his mystery cheerleader gf! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

syp: no one believed eren had such a pretty gf…until now

trin speaks!: be mindful i might have errors. it’s normal.

“so where’s your so-called "girlfriend" at? or did you make this one up too like the last time-”

“oh fuck off, connie, that was one time, and i was 12!” the rest of his friends surrounding him laughed at his embarrassment, (apparently he was the only one without a girlfriend so he made up having one…like i’m talking fake messages and everything.) currently, they were at a rival school’s basketball game since you didn’t go to their school and of course eren decided to come and support you…but his friends armin, connie, and onyankopon tagged along with him, wanting to see who his “special lady” was. “so is the game gonna start or…?” “uh, i think? it just turned 6-” armin was cut off with a set of claps and loud stomps from the side of the bleachers, cheerleaders could be heard shouting a set of words while the boys ran out through the middle of them. parents, children and other spectators could be heard yelling in excitement for the intense game that was yet to happen.

eren looked around to spot you, finding you sitting on the bottom bleacher scrolling on your phone, and the boys traced his eyesight, “bro no way you date that girl sitting on the bottome row?” “huh?” connie pointed at you, “her? she’s toooo fine to be dating you-” “hey?! what’s wrong with me?” “-she should be dating me!” everyone around him rolled their eyes, “if anything she should date me, black love is the best love-” “right, but she’s entitled to date anyone she dates, besides we don’t know her,” armin was received with blank stares from all three of em while ignoring eren’s mumbling claims of, “i’m the one dating her,” soon or later it was halftime, which was a break time for everyone.

the dance team began to perform and all the cheerleaders went their separate ways. connie and armin went to concessions and onyankopon was talking with a girl he’d just met, so eren searched and searched for you, until he felt a pair of cold, soft hands hindering his vision. “guess whooo~”

“my beautiful baby i’d hope?” you kept his eyes covered as you moved infront of him, then removed them happily, “well you hoped right! hi eren!” you hugged him and sat next to him, leaning into his arms, “oh wait- you see our new uniforms?” “yes, its looks amazing- they added glitter to the school letters?” your curls shooks as you rapidly nodded, “yes! and the other sports coaches complained about it, wanting the letters to be unisex but i mean, glitter is glitter, and THEN the coaches made us run 5 laps before the game because someone left their bow at home, and now…” he turned towards you so he could listen to you better, and once the buzzer went off, you had to bid your goodbye, “you taking me home?” “you think you could ride home with sasha - i have the guys and i don’t wanna make it too crowded, i’ll get you once you get home?” your slight frown turned upside down and you noddied happily, “okay! see ya!” you waved enthusiastically and he waved back, sighing in content. “who’re you waving at?”

“my girlfriend?” they all stared at eren for like 5 seconds, then bursted out laughing at him, “oh man eren, you are too funny!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after dropping his friends off, eren sat outside your home, waiting for your arrival and decided to do something that’ll hopefully get into his friends head that he’s actually dating someone. he smirked at his phone, editing up his caption and nearly jumped hearing his car door open, seeing you in his hoodie and some cute grey shorts, “hey baby,” you kissed his cheek and saw his phone, “uhh why are you…?”

“you’ll see.”

#eren x reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan #aot x y/n #eren yeager #aot fanfiction #eren aot #fluff #eren x black reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren headcanons #eren snk #aot x black y/n #aot x reader #smut

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luvwestwood · 3 months

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"Give Me Five" - Choso Kamo

4,591 words.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw (18+), ice-hockey player! choso, bestfriend's brother trope, p in v, resolved sexual tensions, foreplay, fingering, titty sucking, choso fucks you in his jersey, orgasm denial, praising, hair pulling, rough play, nsfw links (underlined), spitting kink, mirror play, feral choso

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. I absolutely enjoyed making this special request for @moonriseoverkyoto! thank you all so much for 700 followers ^^ included a link for you lovelies as a gift, hehe I hope to send more work your way soon :) thank you for the love and support this whole month!

rightful art credits to @/kmskc_f, @/yume041624, @/elcheggen, @/uoru1_juju (all on twt)!

(russian translation) - creds to @juliabelll 🩷

Goosebumps formed all over your skin as you were met with the coldness of the rink. Bits of regret filled you for being stubborn this morning, choosing to not wear extra layers. Squinting, you look around to find a close friend of yours, not too far a figure jumping up and down catches your eye.

"Hey! Over here- I'm here!" Yuji called to you in his typical, chirpy voice. Multiple heads turned to the sudden commotion, followed by another look to your direction. Embarrassed, you facepalm; whispering quiet apologies to others as you squeeze past the row of seats, making your way over.

"Yuji!- I got caught in traffic. Did I miss anything?" You fold down the seat next to him, the excited Yuji passing you another one of those generic team jerseys that he also had on. You take a good look at it before putting the garment over your head, the team colours being black and yellow.

Beside you, the boy rummages through a large plastic bag of popcorn. "Mmph- No- My brother would be happy if he knew- You were here." His eyes were wide open and alert, observing the game like a hawk.

"..Ah, it's nothing. If I didn't go, I would have been rotting at home." You giggled, knowing the real answer. As soon as Yuji sent the text, 'wanna go to my brother's game next weekend?'. You had to go. You've been dying to go. Ever since you met Choso for the first time, you made good use of every opportunity you had to see him.

He had an unforgettable face, and a dreamy body you'd sometimes, and shamelessly catch a glimpse of from time to time. But you were doubting, and unsure if the feeling was mutual. The man was busy, which drove you to think he had no time for a woman in his life.

You fixate your head to the rink in front of you. Of course, you got a hold of the best seats. Yuji being the brother of a world renowned hockey player had it’s benefits.

The same bag of popcorn lands firmly onto your lap, Yuji reaching for the soda cup underneath his foot. "Hmm, he looks pissed though. I think I know why." He leans back, index finger scratching at his head.

You furrow your brows, taking several glances around the ice. A familiar back faced you, 'Kamo' and '12' plastered onto the behind of his jersey. Dark hair effortlessly left down, not too much going on. A couple loose strands falling onto his face, Choso looked like a dream. Yuji beside you shrieks for his name, cheering his brother on.

Choso spins around, glaring at the audience. He was outraged, and you weren't sure why. He didn't dare smile, or wave. Yuji grunts at his brothers reaction, smile fading and slouching back down onto the seat.

"..Oh, I get what you mean now." It was undeniable that Choso was a different person behind his helmet, and that he took the sport seriously. He always wanted to make everyone proud. As one of the best players on his team, everyone counted on him, so there was a generous amount of pressure on his shoulders.

The screeching blow of a whistle shrills throughout the arena for half time, Choso violently shoving his hockey stick onto the ice. Plenty of teammates approach him, others choose to not get involved. Either way, he shoves past them. Everyone around you seemed confused, wondering what made him so agitated. You watched as he cursed to his higher-ups, hands strongly gripping onto the side wall.

"Every day, I fucking hate this sport more and more." Choso speaks through gritted teeth, angrily ripping off his helmet. "Piece of shit."

The staff team stands aside, ushering him out of the rink. His coach guides him over to the side bench, crouching down to give him a typical, motivational chat. Choso only puts his head down and into his gloved hands, becoming more and more annoyed by the second.

"Kamo- you know what? Bring your ass back to the locker room and give yourself five." Not knowing what to do, his coach decides it was best for him to blow off some steam. Not letting out another word, he storms off back into the locker rooms, the crowds groaning as he does so; the privacy invading camera focusing on him.

Chatter filled the air between the crowds around you. “..What happened to him? Your brother just stormed off.” You turn to Yuji, confused and filled with millions of questions.

"No clue, but I'm still a bit hungry." Yuji sighs, looking at the now empty plastic bag of popcorn. He takes a sip of what's left in his soda cup.

"..What? You are?" You look through your purse for some money. More than enough, that's for sure. A wrinkled twenty bill was tucked away inside. "Here- I'll go and get you something. It's on me."

You could've sworn that you had seen happiness twinkle in his eyes. This boy certainly loves to eat. "..Really?" He smiles, in response you nod your head up and down.

"Yeah! Just give me five, I'll be back as soon as possible." You warmly confirm the offer and he nods, shortly before you had to endure the entire process squeezing your way back out of the row.

You walk off into the tunnel leading to the outside of the arena. So many halls, and I’m not even familiar with this place. The two minute stroll led you to nowhere anyways, resulting in you doubting yourself. “…Where’s the food court?” You pout, coming to the conclusion you had probably been walking in circles this whole time.

The next long corridor you were met with was filled with doors everywhere. Loads of them. “..Ah.. have I been here before?”

Walking past each door, you look around for anybody nearby who was able to provide some sort of guidance. Hopeless, there was no one at all. Until one door you had walked past was slightly open, the light on. Maybe someone was in there? You genuinely just wanted to get your hot dogs.

You retrace your steps backwards, the faint sound of two voices coming from the room. Curious, you peeked your head through the slight gap.

"I don't think I did my best out there." It was Choso, elbows on knees on a padded seat. Heaving heavily, pulling the last strings of himself together. His coach with arms crossed in front of him. The conversation was hard to make out, but you were still able to put together some bits of it.

Clutching tightly onto your necklace, you couldn't help but feel concerned. Choso adored this sport with his entire heart, but so much he didn't have time to do anything else. Yuji always talked about how distant he could be when preparing for the new season.

The cursing stops, and before you know it, the door in front of you was wide open; framing you to look like an absolute snoop. You howl, instantly stepping back from the door frame. The same coach stood in front of you, an appalling look on his face. "Who the hell are you?! A money hungry reporter? Guards!-"

You nervously laugh, "Oh- No, no- I'm not a-", endless words were coming out of your mouth in a complete babble.

"..I know her." Choso who was watching everything unfold, tilted his head to the side, looking to see who was at the door.

The coach looks at you with an unamused expression, giving Choso a double look. His voice grows low, speaking in a discreet manner. "How about you talk it out with him. He needs it." He says before walking away from the frame, giving you a stare down as he does so.

Dumbfounded, a string of words only come out in a disoriented patter, "..I was just, looking for the.. concession stand.."

Choso on the other hand, keeps quiet. Blankly staring at the carpeted floor. His gloves and skates were off, but his jersey still on. You gulp, considering if you should speak anymore; scared that you'll only tick him off further.

Your hands rested in each of your palms, unsure whether you should step inside. "..I'm here with your brother, actually- cause he invited me to-"

"I know. I wanted you to come. I invited you, I told him to ask you." Choso speaks lowly, his tone different from when he was talking to the coach. He lets out a labored sigh, mumbling. "..Only for me to play like absolute shit,"

Processing what he had just said, it still changed your entire perspective. You didn't know how to think of it though, so you simply looked over it.

Deciding to approach him rather than standing at the door like some stranger, you close the door behind you. Recalling the coach talking about 'money hungry reporters', you didn't want to take any chances. "..I don't mean to pry, but do you want to talk about.. this?" Sitting down on the free seat beside Choso, you were careful with your choice of words. You didn't want to dig the hole any deeper. Making yourself comfortable, you set your bag away to the side and faced him.

Choso's voice was more soft, and it wasn't as stern to when he was talking to his coach. "..I just don't approve of how I'm performing lately."

Personally, you didn't know much about ice hockey. Nor did you store any valuable advice for it in your brain. It pained you to think that if you were to give him advice, you'd sound like a typical high school guidance counselor.

"Oh, well um.." You purse your lips, trying to come up with something to say. "Is it because you're.. stressed?" Still unsure of what to do, your hand slowly makes its way onto the flat of his back; slowly rubbing shapes all over to comfort him.

"Probably." Although his voice was now mellow, Choso's replies were becoming short and quick. You were afraid that this talking out was of no use to him.

Your hand stops its movements, "..Should you do something about it? Like let it out?", Choso lifts his head up, turning to you. A gulp forces down your throat at how intense he was eyeing you, your own eyes unable to hold contact.

Choso blinks, head turning away once again to rest his chin on his palm. "..I don't know how." That was his problem, Choso wasn't good at letting out his emotions. He usually bottled them up, and solved his personal problems on his own— you could almost refer to him as a stoic being.

Clearing your throat, you bite your lower lip to try and think of something. You gave him the advice, but you didn't know the method yourself. This is why I could never be a therapist.

You mentally curse at yourself, trying to come up with a suggestion that isn't so cheesy like, do what you love to do!

"..I don't know either.. Me- I guess?" A worried expression washes over your face, a mazed Choso turning his head to you for the second time.

A perplexed, questioning noise came stirred up in him. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Eyes fluttering, you were unable to provide him with another answer. What did you mean by, 'me'? Was it just another one of those moments where you let your mouth speak before you think? "..You could let it out.. on me?"

Chosos demeanor had altered, his chin peeling away from the warmth of his palm. His body sat upright as he looked at you, his lips slightly parted. You couldn't tell if he was mortified or enthralled; and you were almost begging for him to say something.

He closes his mouth and swallows some spit to nourish his dried out throat, before standing up in front of you. You feel as if your beating heart were to take over your entire body and head any second now. A lingering tension in the air so thick— not even a lumberjack could saw through it.

Choso's eyes surveying you from top to bottom, studying the features on your face— his thumb swipes across your cheek in a tender, reassuring matter. He was grateful of your offer, but he just couldn't bring himself to directly accept it.

Choso's hand slowly moves down your face, the tip of his thumb gently pressing down on your lower lip. "..You look good in our jersey," His thumb forces the rest of its way into your mouth, "..but even better if it was my own." Was this a code phrase for, 'I need to fuck you, and I need to fuck you now?' His thoughts drifted off to filthy things—like imagining himself rutting into you in his own, bespoke jersey, 'Kamo' in a dirty gold written on your back as you take him whole like a good girl.

Your breath hitches, his finger gliding over the surface of your tongue before he decides to pull it back out. Choso starts to take off the gear on his upper half, both the body pads and jersey.

It was difficult enough to keep your eyes off the now, half naked Choso in front of you. His body muscular and perfectly carved from all of the work he's been putting in for preparation, Choso was more than pleasing to look at. He tosses his jersey and gear beside you, his hands grabbing onto the flesh of your waist.

Lifting you from the seat, you wrap your legs around his torso, lips desperately locking onto each other as he switched positions. The two of you now sitting back down on the seat.

Short mewls and gasps for air leave your mouth as you started to pull your top over your head; Choso's hands roaming all over the surface of your ass. Your hands travel down his chest, your finger tips tracing over his abs painfully slow. Tongues tangling, Choso swallowing any moan he could get from you, especially after the distressingly slow period of yearning for one another. It felt like a reward.

Being the skilled man he is, his fingertips undo the clasp of your bra effortlessly. Groaning in satisfaction, eyes closed and sucking; a free hand fondling with the other.

You claw your fingers through his hair, quietly moaning as he hungrily latched onto your nipple. Arching against his bare skin, you ached to keep him close, and possibly closer. Amidst the sucking, Choso reaches for his jersey beside him, gesturing you to put it over your head. He fulfilled his wish. You proudly raise your arms up, feeling the fabric graze against your skin. It was quite massive on you, hence himself being twice your size.

Impatient, your curious hands wander off to the waistband of his pants; his safety gear already being off had made it easier. Reaching down and past his skin tight shorts, a thought evoking in you causing your hand to withdraw.

"..W-wait," You pant, "What about everyone out there?" You couldn't help but worry about those outside who would start to get suspicious. You knew how much this mattered to him.

Choso rolls his eyes. "I don't really care, they're assholes anyway. Let them wait." His lips only make its way back onto the skin of your neck, warm breath fanning down your sternum. He didn't care if everyone else were to wait outside. He had been waiting for this moment, dreaming about it - and would do anything to not miss it.

Using two hands, you possessively grab onto his jaw to keep him closer, Choso's hands cheekily moving up inside the jersey and cupping onto both of your tits. He really loves them, doesn't he?

Pulling away for another breath your lips miss his already. You hop off his lap, hastily unbuttoning and kicking off your jeans. They fly away to the other side of the locker room, Choso pulling you back into his embarace. But this time, you were facing the other way.

His fingers tug onto the hem of your panties, pulling them back until they snapped against your skin; the stinging sound echoing throughout the room.

You intently watch yourself in the full length mirror across from you two, Choso using his hands to guide your legs open; his head falling onto the crook of your neck.

Choso's hand slowly made its way down to the your panties, his fingertips moving the fabric to the side. Toying with your folds, taking his sweet time. His delicate, addicting touch giving you shivers all over. You close your eyes to indulge in the ecstasy of this moment; scolding yourself for not doing this with him any sooner.

His same fingertips circle your clit, the speed of his movements fluctuating; which resulted in you grabbing onto his bicep, your body sinking down into his lap. Choso watches you break into pieces under his touch, how you repeatedly tap on his arm- asking for leniency.

Choso leans down to your ear, his throaty voice almost sounding like he's purring. “Just relax for me, I can feel you’re too tensed up.” Wasn’t it supposed to be me who gives him advice? Why is it that the roles have reversed?

The back of your head presses deeply into his chest, Choso bringing retrieving fingers give them a generous suck before pushing them into you. His fingers curl up inside, working them in a motion that emits a squelching noise.

“C-Choso, it’s too much- please,” A whimper crawls out of your throat, the man above you cooing and hushing you.

Your hair raising pleas being the catalyst for him only wanting to do more than he already is. His middle finger taps and teases and your bundle of nerves, his strength making your tug on his wrist pointless. “..Shh, you don’t want them to hear, do you?”

You frantically shake your head from side to side, Choso grinning against the top of your head as he had you wrapped around his finger. Cock straining against his shorts, he would take a photo to make this memory last.

His gestures come to a halt and you whine, Choso had forbidden you from orgasming. "Choso!" You hiss as he glues his hands to your hips, twirling you around against the seat.

Mindfully pressing onto the flat of your lower back, he bends you forward; in need of support, your hands reached for the wooden slabs that divided the seats. His strong hands rip your underwear into fragments off your body, Choso sneering at you nagging him.

His actions in no rush, the same hands that were cupping your pussy now feeling down your back, Choso sheepishly grinning at this fresh new view, a degree of gratification fills him for the hundredth time at the sight of 'Kamo' and '12' plastered on your back.

You reach behind you, barely tapping your fingers on Choso's pelvis to grab his attention. He leans down to hear what you had to say, the imprint of his cock imprisoned by his shorts pressed against your bare pussy.

“..Let it all out, I promise I’ll be okay.” Your hand snaked behind his head, fingers combing through his hair one last time. His body heat glossed over your behind, a position so intimate.“Just tell me if I’m hurting you, alright?”

Nodding in approval, Choso withdraws into his old position. Grabbing for his girthy cock out of his shorts, he groans as he jerks it ever so slightly. Forming an orb of spit on his tongue, letting it fall directly onto his length. He doesn't waste anymore time to slide it in, the objective of not hurting you still at the back of his mind.

You let out a long, awaited whimper that broke out into a pained sniffle, his entire length stretching you out. Your anchoring onto the wooden panels only grew stronger, Choso stilling in you for a few moments. The two of you create a symphony of guilty satisfaction, Choso himself unable to process that you let him inside of you; luckiest man in the world, he thought.

His grip on the plush of your waist transition into a soothing massage, “..Are you okay?” Concerned, he regards your strained noises.

Tears well up in your eyes, Choso rubbing his hands up and down your back. “..I-I’m fine.” You replied, managing to form some words. Even though it hurts, you didn't want him to stop. You wanted this as much as he did. He inhales deeply, grunting as his hips stroked into you slow and deep. He took you in like a work of art, savoring every minute, second with you.

“Fuck, Choso- just go faster will you? I know you want to.” You choke out, words dying in your throat. Choso obeying the green llight, you felt him grab and twist onto the fabric of the jersey behind you, his hips snapping into you at a faster pace.

A cacophony of skin slapping and moaning echoed throughout the room, Choso brings his hand down to toy with your clit; heightening your stimulation. Your entire body jolting with each of his thrusts, his little praises like 'good girl', and 'you're taking me so well' making your sex pool like mad.

Broken and choppy curses slip past your wet llips, Choso letting go of the jersey and fixing his grip on your scalp, pulling your head back towards him.

His hand sneaks underneath your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact as you furrow your brows up at him. Your mouth stays wide open, moans no longer heard coming out from it. "Look at me baby," lids shut at the colossal pleasure, Choso needs not to repeat himself; but he does. "I said, look at me," Hauling your eyelids up, a vision of Choso glaring down at you from above— he wasn't the same person as the one half an hour ago.

Choso drops yet another ball of spit into your mouth, patting on the bottom of your chin telling you to shut and swallow, letting out a throaty sound in approval.

Clawing his fingers back into your scalp, he pushes your head back down. His leg lands onto the seat beside you, his thrusts brutally drilling into you deeper than before; Choso definitely rearranging your guts. You let him use you, so he did exactly that. Hell- if you two had a bed, just make sure you have enough saved for a new one the next day.

Makeup was unfortunately ruined from tears and spit, your hair no longer in perfect style from all the grabbing. His heavy balls relentlessly slapped against your clit, Choso huffing quietly.

He takes a hold of your two wrists, prying you from the comfort of the seat and commanding you to stand. Hypnotised, you watched everything unfold; Choso still holding onto your arms behind you as he continued to rut into your hole like a mad man.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, all sorts of unimaginable feelings stirring in the pool of your stomach; Choso already grows bored of the position. He swiftly lides you off his cock, turning you around for the fifth time today so he could see your beautiful face one more time.

Unsure of what was to happen next, you tiringly wrap both of your hands around his neck as he cupped onto the surface of your ass, lifting you up and sinking you down onto his cock. Your head rests against his chest in exhaustion, Choso’s anchored grip slowly loosening, choosing to move into the inside of your legs. Short paced breaths and eyes shutting at the new sensation of him fucking up into you. It was light work to him, carrying you was no problem at all.

Pushing both of you against a nearby wall, your back almost slid up and down the cold panels as Choso grew feral, his cock bullying but thoughtfully kissing your cervix at this unforgiving pace.

You fail to keep your eyes open, body taken over by bliss as he bottoms into you, convinced you had lost your voice. Choso could feel your silky juices move down his shaft, walls constantly clenching around around him.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes,” Choso orders, your hands hysterically tapping onto his shoulders to let him know you were going to snap. Your face winced in pain, you knew that you were going to have a hard time walking for the next week or two.

“..C-Choso,” you choke out, a threshold about to be met as the unfamiliar coil in your stomach urges to let loose.

His thrusts deepening to push you over the edge, cock sloppily moving in and out of your hole; his entire length coated with you.

“Just let it out— let it out.” he desperately whimpered, your mouth forming an ‘o’. His words like a spell, something that will haunt you for days coming. Choso’s eyes faux-sympathetically looking into yours that were blinking like mad as he felt your legs shiver in his grasp.

You shatter and cry at the orgasm that washed over you, bringing yourself to look at his cock withdrawing from your puffy, used cunt. Choso's jaw clenched, beads of white endlessly form at his tip, his balls twitching at the same time your gummy walls pulsed and throbbed around him.

He doesn’t let go of you, bodies still overheating and glistening from sweat. Instead he carries you back to the seats, sitting you down like a fragile porcelain doll. “My legs,” your voice raspy from the endless moaning, “..they’re so sore.”

Choso leans in for a meaningful kiss, your cock-dazed smile forming against his lips. His hands kneading your thighs. The locker room smelled of filthy, sinful sex—but that will just air out in no time. “..You need me to walk you out?”

“Choso, you can’t. There are cameras everywhere.” You grab your purse off the ground, in search of your phone. Almost forty five minutes have passed, your eyes widening. “Huh?! How long have I been gone for?"

He attempts to wipe the stained carpets, a faint white still engraved. Atleast he tried. “Pussy too good I forgot where I was, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Not funny, Choso. I need to get back to your brother!” Scurrying around the room, you pick your jeans off the ground, Choso whistling behind you causing you to turn your head,

“..Guess these aren’t of use to you anymore?” He holds the fragments of your panties up, torn to pieces, the dismaying mempry angering you as you were reminded of it for the second time.

You snap at him, Choso not taking any inch of you seriously. I mean, he literally had you whimpering, fucked you in his jersey and melting under his touch less than five minutes ago. “You fucking owe me a new pair.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred.”

You hurry out into the lobby, looking around for Yuji. Not having time to fix your hair, you almost scream as you walked past a reflection of yourself, mortified at how you looked. It’s okay… he wouldn’t suspect anything, right?

A familiar coral haired person was lounging at the sofas down the end, of course that had to be him. “Y-Yuji? is that you?” The head turning to your direction, it definitely was him; his eyes were shocked to still see you alive and standing before him.

You sit on the free armchair beside him, “..I’m so sorry, something just.. happened.” Nervously smiling, you wipe the residues of dried spit off your chin, your head stuck in one direction to avoid looking at Yuji in the face. Airing yourself with an invisible fan, you look away in all sorts of directions.

“It’s cool, the game got cancelled anyways- and I got my hotdogs.” He points to the four empty wrappers on the table in front of him. Yuji leans back against the sofa.

“..Uh— ..Is that, Choso's jersey?"

Fuck.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me, ily guys sm!!🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#choso kamo smut #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #choso kamo #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso

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rosygaze · 11 months

Text

cupid

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

summary: you swear cupid hates you but maybe he’ll finally take mercy when you meet eddie.

warnings: reader insecurity, slight period misogyny, mostly fluff, eddie being a cutie patootie, inspired by cupid by fifty fifty <3

word count: 2.4k+

masterlist

You were starting to think that Cupid had a personal vendetta against you.

Three failed dates in a row, all with different guys.

You were optimistic about the first date. After hitting it off with a friend of a friend at a party, you agreed to go on a date with them—a simple movie and dinner. Only you didn’t make it to dinner since your date started hysterically sobbing after watching the newest rom-com. Apparently, he was missing his ex, and seeing two people in love on screen was the breaking point.

The second date came and went. Another movie and dinner but this time you actually made it to dinner. Which you quickly regretted when he kept trying to play footsie with you under the table. At the end of the date, he leaned in for a kiss. You panicked and dodged which had your date kissing the brick wall behind you instead. You didn’t hear back from him again.

On your third date, you lowered your expectations exponentially. You wanted to play it safe and have a coffee date. It started out normal enough. In fact, you were even having fun. He made you laugh until the conversation drifted to the topic of the future. You told him you wanted to get out of this small town and get a job.

For some reason, that made him extremely upset. He started talking about how women shouldn’t ever work and that the only work you should do is cleaning the house, taking care of the kids, and all that 1950s bullshit. You stared at him, mouth agape, not knowing how to respond.

When he was done with his tirade, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. You waited a few seconds before jumping out of your chair and sprinting out of the coffee shop at a speed that should’ve qualified you for the Olympics. You didn’t stop walking until you reached the park down the street and sat down on the empty bench to catch your breath. You looked at your surroundings and grimaced.

Couples.

Everywhere.

A couple having a picnic on the grass. A couple kissing sweetly on the bench across from you. An elderly couple taking a midday stroll. There was even a pair of kids hugging while their parents cooed at them. It’s like the universe was playing some cruel prank on you.

Did Cupid enjoy watching your love life crash and burn? Did he take some sick enjoyment out of hitting you with one of his arrows and shoving you in the direction of another failed love interest?

What was so great about love anyways? It can’t possibly be as good as all the movies and songs made it out to be. Surely, everyone had to be lying or delusional.

And yet…

You wondered what love was like.

The kind of love that kept you smiling all day, that made you see the beauty in the world. The type that swept you off your feet and made you feel like floating through the clouds. The type that completed you.

This is why you kept going on these dates, giving that little cherub second chances in case he finally takes mercy on you and gives you the right man.

Because someone had to be out there for you. Right?

You groaned and slid down the bench enough for you to lean your head on the back of the bench. Watching the clouds float across the sky, you wished the overwhelming loneliness in your chest could float away just as easily. Tears pricked your eyes and you tried desperately not to let them fall. You would not cry here, not in public. You can save the crying for your room like you usually did.

Despite your best efforts, tears still trickled down your cheeks. You huffed in frustration. You are pathetic.

All of a sudden a sharp pain shot from your head. Your eyes shot open and you sat up. With crossed eyes, you could make out a blurry form of a stick. You gripped the stick and realized that it was literally stuck to your head by suction. You dug your nails into the sides of the rubber to release it. Rubbing your forehead, you finally got a closer look at the toy arrow that hit you.

What. the. hell.

You glanced around the park, looking for who could’ve hit you. Turning around until you faced the open field behind you where you saw two people: a short, curly-haired kid and a tall, long-haired man.

The latter was holding a toy bow looking incredibly guilty.

You blinked at each other for a couple of seconds, in shock about what happened. The boy nudged him and he came stumbling forward. You stood up as well and wiped your tears away. God, you hoped you didn’t have a giant red circle on your face.

The ten-foot distance between the two of you felt bigger than it was. The awkwardness alone almost made you turn around but you pushed through. Once you were close enough, you stopped and took him in.

Everything about him screamed ‘danger’. He wore a black shirt that said ‘Coroded Coffin’ and dark jeans with a chain hanging from his belt. You wondered how he wasn’t sweating under the sun.

Black polish chipped off his nails and a collection of chunky rings adorned his fingers. Trailing your eyes up, you saw the patches of dark ink etched into his skin. He was all hard features and sharp edges that had you slightly antsy but when you finally met his eyes, that feeling flew out the window.

He had these big baby browns that softened his entire look. His long hair was wild and framed his face. The combination made him look slightly like a puppy. He had full, pink lips that opened and closed slightly as if he was trying to find the right words to say.

Stop ogling him. He shot a projectile at you.

You cleared your throat, deciding to break the silence. “I assume this is yours?” You held the arrow out to him.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and took the arrow from your hand gently. “Yeah! I’m really, really sorry. I swear I wasn’t aiming for -” He stopped mid-sentence and you saw his eyes flicker with worry. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. It didn’t hurt that much.” You waved a hand over your forehead, dismissively.

“No, not that but I am glad to hear I didn’t hurt you.” He smiled lightly but as fast as it came, a frown settled in its place. “You were, uh… were you crying?”

Taken aback, you furrowed your brows at him. How he could’ve known? “Uh…”

“Sorry! That’s weird. It’s really not my place. It’s just… your eyes are red but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He rambled and held his hands up to show he meant no harm. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually paid attention to you like this.

“I’m okay.” He nodded but, ultimately, didn’t look convinced. You sighed. “I just had a bad date.”

“He didn’t hurt you did he? We can track him down. I’ve got a weapon.” He held up the plastic bow.

You giggled and that made him relax just a tad. His shoulders dropped and the wrinkle between his brows smoothed over. “He didn’t, don’t worry. No need to wield a deadly weapon on him.”

“Yet.” He narrowed his eyes at you but had a playful smirk.

“Yet.” You copied his expression. The tension had disappeared and lighthearted laughter took its place.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.” He introduced himself.

Eddie. It suited him, you thought.

You gave him your name. A charming smile tugged on his lips and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Pretty.” Eddie said under his breath.

Your cheeks flushed even more.

“Eddie, did you get the arrow?” A voice called from behind Eddie. You peered over his shoulder and saw the younger boy. Only now did you notice that he was decked out in a full medieval costume, his curly hair peeking over the edge of his pointy hat.

“Yeah, dude.” Eddie held up the arrow.

“Then come on! You gotta help me with my shield.” The boy whined which made you chuckle slightly. Eddie looked back at you and smiled.

“In a sec, man!” He yelled back but kept his eyes on you. A childish groan came from behind Eddie which had him rolling his eyes playfully. “Sorry about that.”

“Your brother?” You asked.

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, surprise clear in his voice. “Yeah, he is.” A fond smile spread across his face. You could see the resemblance in their unruly curls.

“So, what’s with the outfit?” Peering over Eddie’s shoulder, you could see Dustin practicing with the shield, swinging it at invisible monsters.

“He’s testing out his costume for the Faire.” He said, casually.

“The Faire?”

“The Renaissance Faire?” Eddie’s brow lifted. You shook your head, not understanding. “It’s like an amusement park for history buffs. People dress up, eat, drink, roleplay. It’s great.” He explained.

“Have you been before?” You wanted to hear more, both equally fascinated by the concept and Eddie’s voice.

“Yeah, a couple of times. It’s the little guy’s first time and he wants to go all out. He said he wanted to try his costume out in the correct environment. He’s a bit of a nerd like that and that’s saying something coming from me. King of the nerds, right here.” Eddie held his arms out as if presenting himself and bowed low. You smiled at him.

You haven’t stopped smiling since he made you laugh the first time. “It’s sweet that you spend time with him like that.”

“It’s nothing, really. He’s a special kid.” He scratched the back of his head. You tried not to notice the slight flex in his muscles.

“I’m sure he’ll have a great time.” You said, managing to pull your eyes away from his arms.

“You know.” Eddie started, looking a bit timid. “I’ve got an extra ticket. You could come with us if you want. It’s this weekend in Indianapolis.”

“Oh, I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be.” Eddie stepped a quarter of an inch closer to you. The proximity made you the slightest bit dizzy. “Maybe you’d have some fun. Forget about the asshole who made you cry.”

“The asshole?” Your eyebrow quirked up.

“Every man who makes a woman cry is an asshole and should be jailed.” He said with the most serious expression that you knew he wasn’t joking around.

“My, what a gentleman.” You found yourself inching closer to him too.

“My uncle taught me well.” Eddie puffed his chest out proudly. “So what do you say?”

“The Faire does sound really fun.” You paused. “But I think you should spend time with your brother. Since it’s his first time and everything.” “Oh, y-yeah. You’re right.” Eddie’s cheeks were turning red. He started to move back when you spoke again.

“But… maybe you could tell me all about it after? Over coffee?” You offered, biting your lip shyly.

Eddie froze then his face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?” You nodded, just as excited. “Fuck yeah! I’d love to.”

“I should… uh, give you my number. So you can call me?” That initial bout of confidence was fading away. The intensity of Eddie’s gaze made your knees weak.

“That seems like a good plan.” He nodded.

You pulled your pen out of your bag and dug around for a piece of paper but you couldn’t find anything. Pausing to think, your eyes drifted to the spattering of tattoos on Eddie’s arm. “May I?” You pointed at the back of his hand.

“Go ahead.” He gave you his hand. “I’m not afraid of some ink.”

You let his hand rest on your palm while your other hand scribbled your number on his skin. You had to write slower than usual to make sure the ink stuck. His eyes were burning holes in the side of your face. You spared a glance up at him and the corner of his lips twitched up when you met his gaze.

Ducking your chin, you tried to finish writing but your pen stopped working on the last number. Your lips pouted, petulantly. Eddie must’ve noticed since his thumb rubbed against the skin of your wrist, comfortingly. If you were a cartoon character, you were sure there would be a comical amount of steam coming off you right now with how hot your body felt.

A couple of taps against your thigh and the ink started flowing again. After the last stroke on the final number, you added a small heart beside it.

“Beautiful.” Eddie said. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you nor did he let go of your hand. “I should have you design my next tattoo.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause my little hearts will definitely look good with that.” You poked the bats on his forearm.

“Damn right, it will. Hearts are metal.”

Before you could continue your banter, Dustin’s voice cut through the air. “Edward Munson, stop flirting and help me!” He had his hands on his hips and looked extremely cross with his brother. You let go of Eddie’s hand in embarrassment.

“I’m coming!” Eddie’s cheeks were red but his eyes were full of amusement. “As much as I’d love to stay, it looks like I gotta go.”

“I figured.” You were actually sad that your time with him was up. “You two have fun this weekend.”

“Thanks. Don’t go on any more dates with assholes, okay.” Eddie still had that playful grin but you heard the slightest hint of unease in his voice.

“I won’t.” You assured him.

You said your goodbyes and walked away. Every couple of steps, you looked back at Eddie. You felt like a teenager again, willing for her crush to look at her in class. You took one last look at Eddie and, as fate would have it, he was turning to look at you too. Both your eyes went wide, a similar situation to your meeting just a couple of minutes ago.

The two of you laughed and Eddie drove the toy arrow into his chest dramatically. He threw his body back on the ground and rolled in the grass. When he got up, he had a smidge of dirt on his cheek but that smile never dimmed. You’d be thinking about that smile all day.

That very night your phone rang.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Eddie said over the receiver. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You twirled the phone cord around your finger. “Neither could I.”

This is your last chance, Cupid. You thought. Please let him be the one.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #she speaks

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twilightcitysky · 9 months

Text

Hypothesis: Aziraphale HATES that Crowley is living in his car.

Supporting evidence:

The very first thing we see him do in the present is stop Maggie from moving out and making sure she feels welcome to stay as long as she likes.

He clearly knows Crowley’s unhappy before anything happens in the plot: “Does it calm you down?”. And also clearly feels helpless about it. Enter the conspicuous Eccles cakes: Aziraphale’s offer, which is rejected.

Crowley’s obviously, for all his hedging, spending a lot of time at the bookshop— so much that he has his own glasses perch and feels immediately comfortable removing them. See also: “Technically my bookshop but we both get plenty of use out of it”, “Why don’t you wait inside? You like waiting inside”.

It’s Crowley who immediately shoves the box of plants into Aziraphale’s arms after Aziraphale returns from Scotland.

Speaking of Scotland, why wouldn’t Aziraphale take the train? Why insist on driving the Bentley? Is it perhaps because he wants to get Crowley and his plants into the shop, and thinks if he creates a situation where Crowley has to stay there, maybe he won’t immediately leave again?

He’s got an empty bedroom and an apparently pathological need to make the person staying there very comfortable, creating cute little customized souvenirs like he’s an Air B&B host (displacement!).

He immediately jumps to having Gabriel stay with him— he didn’t have to. Arguably, both Gabriel and Aziraphale would be safer if Gabe stayed elsewhere.

That’s what I’ve got for now but I’m sure there’s more. Throughout the show, watch what Aziraphale gives to others and does for others, and it’ll tell you what he wants to do for Crowley. He’s living so deeply in displacement in makes him come across as manic and brittle.

(What probably happened is Aziraphale offered the spare bedroom and Crowley, who unconsciously didn’t want to be his roommate or sleep in a single bed with Aziraphale right downstairs because how could the poor lovesick boy cope with that, told him he wasn’t a “good deed” for Aziraphale to do and stormed off.)

Conclusion: Aziraphale asked Crowley to stay at his place, immediately and probably repeatedly. They had a row about it, and Crowley refused, and to this day Aziraphale doesn’t understand why.

And it hurts him.

#this might be the start of a longer meta about Aziraphale feeling rejected by Crowley repeatedly throughout this season #being made to feel like he’s doing the wrong thing or not good enough #they’re fracturing apart before the season even starts #all because they both fear rejection so much that Crowley preemptively rejects Aziraphale and Aziraphale is afraid to push #look at the projection and displacement and you’ll see what’s really going on #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #the awkward homeless Crowley situation #it’s absolutely manufactured and unnecessary #Crowley’s literally circling Aziraphale #and Aziraphale just wants him to come inside #good omens season two #good omens season 2 #renew good omens #just so they can finally have a talk about how Crowley is such a drama queen he lived in his car for three years

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ichorai · 5 months

Text

thread ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; “they’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter.

“of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “we showed them there’s no sharks in the water. obviously they’re going to jump in.”

words ; 6.6k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury/death/drug misuse, coryo's paranoia, he isn't exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus came late to class. He rushed in, uniform only slightly askew, and hair messier than usual. You moved your bag aside so he could take a seat beside you. With a nod, he slipped into the row and began laying out his books.

You wondered how Tigris reacted once he got back home. Probably worried sick for her cousin and her friend. Your father, of course, was furious with you once he learned about your tryst with Coriolanus in the Capitol Zoo, but there was little he could do when he was off working in the districts. During dinner with your mother, Lucretius Flickerman, and his wife, the tributes and the games were practically all the three could talk about. Lucky was going to be the first ever host, apparently.

How fun.

To neither of your surprise, Highbottom eyed the two of you with disdain. When you had strode into the hall, he remained silent. Coriolanus’ arrival seemed to tip him right over the edge.

“Both of your little excursions were in violation of about five different academy rules,” he grumbled. “Chiefly amongst them—endangering a Capitol student. Yourselves.”

“There were peacekeepers crawling all over the place,” Coriolanus retorted.

The dean’s nose twitched angrily. Then, he fixed you with a harsh look over his spectacles, and drawled out your name. “Since you are the academy’s brightest, and your records have been… untarnished until now, I will let you off with a warning.” There was a pause, before the dean continued. “Mr. Snow, I’m moving for the gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor, effective immediately.”

“What?” the two of you exclaimed at once.

“You said we had to get them to perform, not stay away!” Coriolanus just about spat.

“I’ll add insubordination, as well,” Highbottom replied, tone venomous.

Raising your hand and ignoring the dean’s irritated exhale, you haughtily said, “It was me who went into the tribute’s truck. Coriolanus only followed. We didn’t know that we’d end up in a zoo enclosure.”

Arachne tittered with condescending laughter. “Yeah, and then you held hands with them. Made it seem like we’re the same as those animals.”

From your other side, Sejanus was quick to defend the two of you. “Coriolanus and Y/N didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Stiffening, Coryo scowled and said, “I don’t need your help, Sejanus.”

He ignored him and continued on, “That the tributes are human beings, just like us. That’s why nobody wants to watch the games—because people know, deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights!”

“Dean Highbottom,” you called, not bothering to raise your hand this time. “How is it fair that Coriolanus gets disqualified while I’m not? We did what you told us to do! We were just trying to get to know our tributes.”

“Would you like to be disqualified as well? I can surely arrange for that to happen,” he deadpanned. “But poor little Wovey would be left all on her own.”

Nausea coiled within your abdomen. You drew yourself up to your full height. “Well, that would be entirely unnecessary—”

Before you could finish your sentence, the doors to the lecture theater swung open once more, and Dr. Volumnia Gaul crept in, footsteps completely silent. How she managed that, you weren’t at all sure.

With everyone’s eyes on her, she fixed her stare on the two of you. Her hair was wrangled back into a high up-do, tall and grey on her head.

“Quite a show you two put on. You’re good players,” she said, voice booming throughout the theater. “The hunger games needs good players. Maybe one day you’ll be gamemakers, like me.”

The thought sent chills up your spine. Coriolanus kept his expression stoic.

“If the games continue at all,” said Highbottom.

Singular blue eye flashing, Dr. Gaul grinned in an unnerving manner. “Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Snow and L/N in that zoo? The people would never stop wanting for more.” She drew closer to the rows of seats, gloved hand trailing over a few of the desks. “I came here to ask the star mentors a question… what are the hunger games for?”

You and Coriolanus exchanged a quick glance.

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising,” he said, as if it were obvious. “To commemorate the end of the war.”

Volumnia’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, in a similar fashion to a snake.

“And what would you say, Y/N?”

It was hard to maintain eye contact with her, especially because it felt like she could peer into your very soul and dissect you apart from inside out—but you managed. With your father being such an avid supporter of the hunger games, you wondered if your answer would be what she was looking for. “I don’t agree with the games. But I know it’s because—fear is power. Keep the districts afraid for themselves, for their children, and you’ll always have the upper hand.”

She smiled, wide and eerie. “You’re right. Fear is power. But punishment and fear can take many forms. They can come from bomb droppings, the cancelling of food shipments, stage executions. The question is, why games?”

Defensive, Sejanus spoke up, “Shouldn’t we be asking whether or not it’s right in the first place?”

“You have a problem with my games?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended! The oldest of them were only eight!” he exclaimed. “The Capitol is supposed to be everyone’s government now. It is supposed to protect all of us. I don’t see how making children fight each other to the death is protecting anyone.”

With a sneer, Dr. Gaul told him, “That sort of sympathy might be interfering with your mentoring assignment, Mr. Plinth.”

Finally, Highbottom said to his colleague, “Perhaps Capitol students are ill-suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the games’ time has passed.”

Yes, you thought. It’s time to let it go.

To your surprise, Coriolanus abruptly stood up from his seat. “Dean Highbottom is wrong,” he asserted. “My classmates, too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. We should be viewing those tributes as human beings. You saw those kids at the zoo. They just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch, we should let them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal.”

“Who would watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?” Dr. Gaul asked, as if the notion of caring about district folk was ludicrous.

“Everyone,” replied Coriolanus. “Especially if they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning. People need someone to root for and someone to root against! And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we can even have them place bets.”

You felt sick as you looked up at Coriolanus with a mildly disturbed expression. If he noticed, he didn’t give you any indication.

“I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena,” he continued. “But if you give her a chance—I would bet the Plinth prize that she could win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul was effectively intrigued.

“I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow,” she said.

Clemensia, strong-headed as ever, stood up and said that she should be working with Coriolanus, as his class partner.

With an amused snicker, Volumnia bowed her head and made her way back to the door. “It’ll be an interesting test,” she ominously said before turning on her heel and exiting, her dark cloak billowing out behind her.

During lunch, you sat down across from Coriolanus in the cafeteria, noticing that he had three sandwiches stacked on his plate, along with half a dozen cookies on another. It was a rare thing, seeing him with so much food. Usually he opted for just starving himself to save some money, despite your urges to get him to eat.

“Hungry?” you asked with an arched brow, but he shook his head.

“It’s for Lucy Gray,” he replied, staring down at the food. Then, he pulled out a red handkerchief and started wrapping the food up. “I’m going back.”

With a soft sigh, you started digging into your own lunch. “Hopefully not inside this time.”

He spared you half a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you coming? Everyone else is. I heard Arachne tell Felix she’s going to use food to get her tribute to do tricks for her.”

With a wrinkle of your nose, you glanced over at her several tables down. “Sounds like something she’d say.” You took a bite of your food and chewed thoughtfully.

“They’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter.

“Of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “We showed them there’s no sharks in the water. Obviously they’re going to jump in.”

He tied the handkerchief together so the sandwiches and cookies would stay put. “They’re all sheep. No original thought whatsoever.”

There it was again, your wind-chime laugh. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, now empty save for a few bread crumbs.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Coryo. Besides, I’m glad most of the class is going. The tributes must be starving in there,” you told him. “I’ll come and bring some food for Wovey.”

A voice from your right jutted into your conversation, Sejanus’ angry face coming into view as he slammed down his lunch tray in the empty spot beside you. “You guys going to fatten up your tributes so you can finally start taking bets?” he just about snarled.

“Do you think they’ll give those kids a scrap if we don’t give them a reason to do it?” Coriolanus responded defensively, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can’t eat?”

“We can’t send them back to their homes,” you told Sejanus in a juxtaposingly calm tone. “The best we can do for them now is help them out here.”

The curly-haired man slumped forward, his shoulder stooping like an old wildflower. “He was my classmate,” he muttered. “Back in two.”

Though you gave Sejanus a sympathetic look, Coryo regarded Sejanus as if he was confused. He wondered why Sejanus even bothered to care this much when he was no longer a part of the districts.

“It’s not your fault that—” Coriolanus began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so blameless I’m choking on it!” he gritted out. Then, he let out a shaky breath, trying to steel himself. “My father bought him for me, you know. At the reaping. Just so he could show me that I could never go back to two.”

A frown marred your features. “He bribed Highbottom?”

“Something like that,” Sejanus told you, using the prongs of his fork to poke and prod at his food. “Morphling costs a pretty penny.”

Silence stretched over the three of you for a few seconds. Coriolanus looked annoyed, but Sejanus didn’t seem to notice.

“Being in the Capitol is going to kill me,” he sighed.

This made Coryo scowl. “So do something about it.”

Sejanus’ dark eyes flitted over to the bundle of food in Coriolanus’ hands. “You’re quite the rebel.”

Coriolanus retorted, “Oh, yeah. I’m bad news.”

When he said that, he’d expected you to laugh again, but you kept quiet, staring down at your now-unappetizing lunch.

There was a considerably larger crowd around the enclosure that evening. You had a small basket clutched in one hand, consisting of juice boxes (still grape, since you now knew it was a safe option), soft bread rolls, and wrapped leftovers from your dinner with Lucky. You hoped Wovey wasn’t allergic to anything—you’d forgotten to ask in the heat of it all.

Coriolanus still only had the few sandwiches he saved from lunch, but you assured him that you were more than happy to share with Lucy Gray if need be.

She looked much more haggard tonight, most of her makeup smeared off, her lips chapped and bleeding at the center from what you assumed was anxious biting, and her hair was more unruly. Though her eyes still held the same fire, the same passion, lighting up when she noticed the two of you approaching. She asked if the food was for them with slight surprise—you often forget that they hadn’t much to eat in the districts, anyway—and took what was offered, before handing off a good portion of it to her district partner, Jessup. The larger man declined the food at first, claiming he wasn’t hungry, but eventually caved and took the sandwiches.

When he turned to walk off, Coriolanus asked about the nasty wound on his neck. It was just behind his ear and oozing with blood and pus. A bat bite on the train, Lucy Gray told the two of you, looking awfully guilty on behalf of her friend.

Crooning from a little way’s away drew your attention to Arachne and her tribute. She was dangling a cold bottle of water just inches from the tribute’s reach, urging her to beg.

Lucy Gray’s brows cinched. “One thing I learned in twelve is that hunger is a weapon. Your friend over there sure knows it.”

The two of you scoffed at the same time.

“She is not my friend,” Coriolanus told her. “She is poison with perfect teeth.”

“How such a vile tongue hides behind those pearly whites, I wouldn’t ever know,” you remarked, earning you a snicker from Coriolanus. Finally, you peered around for Wovey, eager to finally get her something to eat. However, curse your damned softening heart, your eyes grew gentle upon seeing her curled up by the very same tree stump, head resting on Bobbin’s shoulder, fast asleep.

Lucy Gray casted a glimpse over her shoulder to see what you were looking at.

“Could you give this to her?” you asked, slotting the small basket between the enclosure’s metal bars. “When she wakes up, that is. She must be famished. Feel free to take anything in there, but just… leave some for her.”

The girl nodded, taking the basket from you and handing it over to Jessup, who cradled it as if it were more precious than gold. You watched him carefully—not because you were worried he was going to keep all the food to himself, but because you were curious as to why he hadn’t reached in to take anything for himself yet, even after several minutes passed by.

Coriolanus leaned forward, wrapping a hand around one of the bars as he lowered his voice. “Are you going to share everything with Jessup?”

Lucy Gray’s expression faltered. “Why? You think I oughta build up my strength to strangle him in the arena? Not exactly my forte.”

“I might have a chance to help you,” he told her, watching her keenly. “To make some suggestions to the gamemakers. I might even be able to get the audience to send you gifts in the arena. Food, and water, to keep you going. You just have to try singing again.”

Firmly, Lucy Gray said, “I don’t sing when I’m told, I sing when I have something to say.”

“And you have nothing to say?” you asked her, head tilting. “The whole world is watching, Lucy Gray. Now’s your chance.”

A myriad of emotions crossed over her face. “It doesn’t matter much now, does it? I’ve seen the arena—there’s nowhere to hide. What’s the point?” Her gaze traveled from you to Coriolanus. “The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch and you say you want to help me. Which is it?”

“Both?” he offered.

It didn’t satisfy her, but it was enough, for now.

Then, she grabbed a sandwich from the red handkerchief and took a large bite, a muffled noise of appreciation falling from her lips.

“Bread’s soft,” she said around a mouthful. “Softer than in twelve.”

Then, she offered a cookie to Coriolanus. He began to protest, but she insisted he take it.

“I saw you staring,” she said. “I always thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus laughed, a coarse and unrefined sound. “One time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach.”

A match of pity struck within the confines of your chest, but you remained quiet. Coriolanus told you stories of his times during the war often—usually after the two of you laid together, sweaty and naked, bearing your souls to one another. Pillow talk made him quite emotional, you found.

“And how was it?” Lucy Gray queried, eyes round.

Coriolanus took a bite of the cookie, humming in though. Then, he shrugged. “Pasty,” he said.

Lucy Gray laughed. She looked back to you, appreciative. “Thank you, for the food. I’m sure the little one’s going to be happy.” Your eyes flickered back to Wovey. She stirred a bit on Bobbin’s shoulder, but remained asleep. “She’s so sweet. So young. Something about her reminds me of my cousin, Maude Ivory. I can’t stand to think of them without me like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Coriolanus whispered.

You nodded in agreement. “They’re waiting for you, I’m sure. You’ll see them again.”

Lucy Gray smiled sadly. “I won’t hold you to that.” Then, after she took another bite, she blew out a gentle sigh. “You two seem like… genuine folk. It sure would’ve been nice to meet you under different circumstances.”

Coriolanus leaned his head against the enclosure’s bars. “One of your shows, maybe.”

Somehow, her smile grew impossibly wider, but her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I would’ve liked that.” With a light sniffle, she asked the two of you, “You two keen on dancing?”

You thought back to all the dance lessons you were forced to take as a young child. It was never your strong suit. “Not really, no. Coriolanus is much better than I am.”

“Not your fancy Capitol dancing,” she told you, waving a hand in the air. “Dancing like you’re free. Dancing with no rules. Just the music, to guide you.”

Both you and Coriolanus exchanged glances. “Can’t say I’ve tried,” you replied. “But it sounds fun.”

Lucy Gray nodded, showing more enthusiasm than you’d ever seen in her before. “You’d have the time of your life. If you ever visit… I’d love for you to come. Both of you—we’d have a drink. Share a dance or two. We’d have all the time in the world. People always say our music shows are the best places for romantic dates. It’d be perfect for you two.”

It was a pleasant fantasy to entertain. But that’s all it was—a fantasy. When you looked at Coriolanus, his expression was simultaneously strained and distant, as if he were far away, thinking of other things. You reached out to place your hand on his shoulder.

But before you could, screams erupted from around the enclosure, followed closely by shattering glass. You whipped your head away from Lucy Gray, seeing Arachne’s tribute jabbing the broken glass bottle straight into her jugular. Coriolanus yelled something—you weren’t entirely sure what, but he jumped up to grab Arachne, applying pressure to the wound.

It wasn’t enough.

Blood, dark and viscous and filling the air with the smell of copper, began to pool around her neck, down her shoulders, filling the crevices of her collarbones. She was blubbering something, gargling through blood, but you couldn’t quite hear with the loud static buzzing in your ears.

You glanced to the side, catching sight of peacekeepers lining up their guns to shoot. You rushed forward to get to Coriolanus, yanking him down just as several shots rang out. He was whimpering, telling Arachne to hold on for him, but when you frantically reached down to feel for her pale wrist’s pulse—it wasn’t there.

Arachne was dead.

You clambered off of Coriolanus, away from the dead girl, backing away. You only barely registered Sejanus calling out your name in concern, but you didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, you turned your eyes to the tributes, all ducking and cowering behind trees and tires. To your relief, Wovey was now awake, eyes wide as she crouched behind the tree stump with Bobbin.

The relief was short-lived, however, because peacekeepers began urging everybody away from the enclosure. You reached out for Coriolanus, taking his arm. He was shaking, eyes as large as saucers and visibly distraught.

The two of you walked to his estate in tense silence.

Once there, Grandma’am and Tigris fawned over the two of you, though in far different ways. Grandma’am dove into a lecture about rebels and how lucky the two of you were that your tributes hadn’t done the very same. Tigris wrapped a warm shawl over you and a patched blanket over her cousin, telling Grandma’am that Lucy Gray and Wovey weren’t rebels, just innocent girls.

“Trust me, that one hasn’t been a girl in a long time,” Grandma’am bitterly retorted. “Outside this Capitol, they’re savages, however they may smile. She will use you, Coriolanus. You must use her or you’ll end up dead in the trees, like your father.”

Coriolanus stiffened.

An hour later, he tugged you into his room and kissed you hard and desperate, as if he wanted to distract himself from his own thoughts. You were the one to pull away, even if everything inside you was screaming to stay. You almost caved, almost, when his head dipped forward in an attempt to capture your lips again, but you placed the tips of your fingers over his mouth with a soft, sympathetic smile. You hugged him tight until he stopped trembling, and reluctantly drew yourself away from him. After embracing Tigris goodnight, you walked home alone with your thoughts, wondering if the games were going to continue in lieu of the evening’s events.

There was an assembly held at the academy for Arachne’s death, followed promptly by a proper funeral. Though, it didn’t quite feel proper with all the cameras and reporters hovering around. You wondered if people were expecting to see you cry. You were incredibly shaken, sure, but were you sad?

It’d be a lie if you said yes.

They made sure to zoom in on you and Coriolanus when you kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand just before he was appointed to go on stage and sing the national anthem. Why he was the one to do so, the two of you had no idea. It’s not like Arachne was friends with him, despite what the reporters wanted to think. It was a ridiculous waste of breath, he thought, singing for a girl he barely knew.

After Coriolanus’ performance, President Ravinstill gave a rather monotonous speech about courage and bravery. How Arachne was going to be sorely missed. Right—of course she was.

And the very next day, life moved on. As if Arachne’s death had never happened.

Soon after, they had all the mentors and tributes gathered into one of the academy halls— with the tributes shackled to tables, of course. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for them to run. You’d seen all the peacekeepers lining the hallways outside.

“In spite of yesterday’s tragic events,” Highbottom said, not a shred of sincerity to be found in his tone, “our President has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone that the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror. To which end Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special, televised presentation of each tribute to our audience so they could… get to know them.”

A glorified show-and-tell, you dryly thought. How wonderful.

You and Coriolanus looked at each other for a brief moment—he’d ask Lucy Gray to sing again, you were certain. Then, you turned back forward, where Wovey was fiddling with her thumbs, sniffling a few times.

“You’ll have an hour to discuss strategy,” said the dean, before whisking himself off to the shadows of the room to down another vial of morphling.

You sat down in front of your tribute, trying your best to offer her a warm smile.

“Did you like the food I brought? Was it okay?” you whispered, making sure to lower your voice.

A nod, a scuffle of feet. Her bottom lip trembled.

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you moved on to the pressing matter at hand. “Okay, Wovey. I need… I need to know what you’re good at. Are you a fast runner?”

She thought for a moment, but then shook her head.

“I know you can climb?”

She let out a shaky sigh. “I used to climb in my mama’s factory all the time. Trees, too.”

“Good. That’s good,” you murmured, pulling out a notepad so you could jot some things down. “Are you good at hiding? Staying still?”

“I think so,” she said, looking awfully uncomfortable. “Will I go back home if I win?”

A sharp pang hit you square in the chest. You tore your gaze away from your notes on the paper to look at her.

“Yes,” you hesitantly replied. “They’ll take you home.”

This seemed to satisfy her for the time being. Gave her hope that you perhaps shouldn’t have instilled.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “So—for your televised presentation. We need to win the audience over so they send in donations—I’d be able to send you things. What do you want to do?”

After quite a bit of back and forth, you managed to get Wovey to agree to talk about her family on stage. How much she missed them. It wasn’t much, but perhaps the youngest tribute sympathy card would push the odds in your favor.

Halfway through the hour, however, Coriolanus and Clemensia were called away by Highbottom—most likely to discuss the proposal Coryo had written up once you left the estate. You made a mental note to ask him how it goes once you saw him again. You felt bad, seeing Lucy Gray sitting all alone, bound hands lightly rapping against the table’s wood.

By the stroke of four in the afternoon, they gathered all the mentors and tributes in front of the arena. Coriolanus came bounding up to the group just seconds away from the gates opening, appearing breathless and mildly frazzled.

“You okay? Where’s Clemmie?” you asked, resting a hand on his elbow, brows kinking with confusion.

“She’s… not going to make it.” He winced, appearing distinctly torn. “I’ll tell you later.”

There was a brief silence where you scrutinized him, eyes wide. Something bad happened when he was with Dr. Gaul, and you weren’t too keen on finding out.

You walked alongside Coriolanus into the arena, with your two tributes in front of you. Lucy Gray was saying something comforting to Wovey in that sweet voice of hers, and for that you were grateful. The last thing you needed was Wovey to break down in an anxious mess.

The arena itself was spacious but incredibly rundown, crumbling under the weight of its neglected upkeep. The glass roof was stained and dusty, rusty slants creaking as they parted to filter sunlight into the dome.

“Welcome to the arena of the 10th annual hunger games,” a distorted voice echoed through the arena’s shoddy speaker system. “Tributes, mentors, you have fifteen minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy.”

With one final squeeze on Coriolanus’ shoulder, you parted ways with him, stepping beside Wovey to urge her into a lap around the arena. Staggered rows of dusty seats lined the edges high above the ground—Wovey was a good climber, wasn’t she?

You tried your best to give her advice. “Hiding in the seats is your best option. Climbing over the rows whenever someone comes to attack you should buy you time. You’re small, too—I think you’d be able to crawl beneath the seats to get away. As for weapons… maybe grab something small from the center. A knife or a dagger. But only if you have time, and only if you know you can make it. If not, just make a break for the seats, as fast as you can. Got that, sweetheart?”

Wovey stayed silent. But she nodded. Nodded and nodded until you worried her head was going to pop right off.

You bent down at the waist slightly so that you were eye-level with her. “I’ll be watching you the whole time. I’m there if you need m—”

Sudden explosions rang out about the arena. Plumes of dust flew everywhere, blinding you almost instantaneously. With your eyes squeezed shut, you felt the ground shake and split and rumble until another closer explosion flung you a good few feet off the ground. You landed on your side with a strangled scream, though the pain only registered a few seconds later. Cracking your aching eyes open and squinting through the haze of dust, you caught sight of shattered glass thundering around you like crystalized rain, nicking your skin with sharp pin pricks.

Your right side buzzed with warmth. Something damp. You dazedly looked down.

Oh.

It seemed you’d landed right on a broken metal pipe, sticking right out of your abdomen. Blood was pooling down your academy uniform, soaking the fabric a far more sinister shade of red. You choked out something akin to a dry sob, before screaming out for help. You heard dozens of similar cries echo back to you.

With a grunt, you pushed yourself up,

“CORYO?!” you screamed as loud as you could. Faintly, you could hear his strained voice echo your name back—somewhere across the arena, you’d wager.

The pain was starting to grow worse. Searing, almost, as if you were being laid over an open fire. You staggered through the rubble, pressing a hand to your side in a terrible attempt to staunch the bleeding, careful not to jostle the pipe. It was probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right then and there.

As you kept moving, you caught sight of a large, gaping hole at the opposite end of the arena. There were tributes running out. Peacekeepers shooting them. The explosions had been so loud that your ears were ringing with terrible white noise—you couldn’t even hear the sound of the rifles blasting.

You glanced around wildly.

You spotted the small little girl near the edge of the arena. Running with Dill, you realized, mind still lagging a second too late from shock. Another explosion rattled through the arena—this time, crumbling the roof away completely.

With a mangled noise, you began limping as quickly as you could.

Another call of your name, echoing and rattling about your skull, and Coriolanus materialized right beside you out of seemingly nowhere. There were two of him, you realized. He appeared fuzzy.

You reached out for him, but he suddenly pulled you forward, yelling something. Something you couldn’t hear. A flash of rainbow by his left, and you saw Lucy Gray just barely escape being crushed by a large stone support column.

More crumbling ceiling. Coriolanus’ hands were cold when he urgently shoved you forward. So hard that you went tumbling down, screaming with the sudden painful jolts the metal pipe sent shooting up your spine. A second later, you blearily looked around for Coriolanus—realizing that he’d pushed you into the clear when you found him pinned down under heavy foundational slants—and they’d caught on fire.

Numb panic shot through your mind. You barely registered your own voice croaking out his name. You tried to crawl towards him, but he only seemed to get farther away.

The last thing you saw before your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you went careening backwards was the rainbow dress, and wild, dark hair.

The hospital bed was far from comfortable, but you’d been so tired you were knocked out for half of the day. Though, Tigris told you that you did sort of wake up at some point in the night, mumbling Coriolanus’ name with half-cracked eyes, before falling right back asleep.

He’d startled awake before you—rushing to your bed (right beside his) and taking your limp hand in his cold, clammy one. Brushed the hair away from your forehead and muttered apologies and please don’t die like they were a mantra.

When you finally stirred, you nearly burst into tears upon seeing Coriolanus.

“I thought you died,” you dry-sobbed. Your side ached considerably with the effort. “I thought I was going to die.”

He drew you into a loose hug, careful to avoid your bandaged midriff. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here. I love you—I’m not going anywhere, okay? Lucy Gray saved you. Saved us.”

“She did?” you croaked, voice soft. Yes, you sort of remembered. It was all a blur.

“She caught you before you could crack your head open on the ground,” said another voice. You turned your stiff neck to see Sejanus at the foot of the other side of your bed, next to Tigris, who was running her hand up and down your arm in a comforting manner.

You blew out a shaky sigh. Your head pulsed, and you suddenly felt nauseous. “What… what happened?”

They took turns explaining. Rebel bombing. The dead tributes. The president’s son, Felix, in critical condition. Sejanus’ tribute missing. How the games were still commencing regardless. The pipe that had been lodged in your abdomen missing any vital organs. How you were lucky to be alive.

“Wovey?” you whispered. “Is she okay?”

Coriolanus smoothed a hand over your head. “She’s okay. Not one of the ones that died.”

“Lucy Gray?” you whispered.

“Alive. She could have run. She stayed back to help you and me,” he said as his hand traveled down to gently cup your face. There were dark circles under his eyes. “I owe her now. She saved the love of my life.”

“Oh, Coryo—are you okay? Are you hurt?” Your gaze roamed all over his form, clad in an identical hospital gown.

“A few burns and bruises. Nothing compared to you.”

You drew in a staggered breath. Every muscle and tendon in your body screamed with even the slightest movements.

Tigris squeezed your hand. “We were so worried for you. Coriolanus couldn’t sleep all night. Your mother came by earlier but she had to leave—a spill in the lab, or something. And your father sends his love from district two. Your mother said he was furious. Military is doubling down.”

“Typical,” you whispered, supplying the three with half a weary smile, glad that they were there for you. “I can’t believe they’re going on with the games tomorrow. This is absurd.”

“They don’t want to seem weak,” Sejanus bitterly replied. “But you woke up just in time. The televised presentations are starting soon.”

Nearly an hour later, Sejanus switched on the television set hanging in front of the beds. Tribute after tribute went by, most of them appearing gaunt and exhausted. True to what the two of you had discussed, Wovey got on stage and talked about her family back in district eight, despite looking rather shaken. The audience crooned and sighed with pity. Donations were sparse, but still more than you had expected, to your bittersweet relief. You watched from the hospital bed, curled up with Tigris at the head of it, your head on her shoulder, whilst Sejanus and Coriolanus were standing far closer to the curved screen.

Lucy Gray was the last to go on. She had a guitar with her. And she sang a beautiful song—one about a boy back from home, she said. The audience cheered and sniffled. Even the nurses stopped their bustling to watch, some of them discreetly wiping away tears.

Once visiting hours were over and Tigris and Sejanus were shooed out of the hospital, Coriolanus sat beside you and slung an arm over your shoulder. He slotted his fingers beneath your chin and kissed you deeply. It was a slow embrace, with not a hint of sexual intentions—he just wanted to hold you. Remind himself that you were still alive, still here, still his.

Your nose nudged his when he laid his forehead over yours. The two of you breathed in each other’s comforting presence. Just the two of you. It reminded you of when times were so… uncomplicated. Before all the mentoring came along, the only things you had to worry about were grades and Coriolanus’ refusals to eat properly.

Then, he told you about Clemensia. How she was probably somewhere in this very building. How she screamed when she was bitten by the snake muttation. Your mind raced with questions, but you yawned instead and leaned against his chest.

“I love you, too, Coryo,” you whispered into his hospital gown, realizing you hadn’t said it back earlier.

A few minutes later, you were back asleep. Coriolanus was careful not to wake you when he laid you back down. Tucked the blanket up to your chin. He kissed your hairline once more, regarding you with a fond expression, before straightening, trying his best to ignore the aches blossoming over his back and legs.

And then he left the ward, assuring the doctors that he was fine and he could be discharged. They reluctantly agreed after a brief check-up, and had him sign off for himself. Once he was out, he immediately set off for the arena, trying to search for something, anything to keep his tribute alive.

Tunnels. The ground had collapsed into them, giving Lucy Gray a perfect place to run and hide. He went back home, making sure Grandma’am and Tigris were asleep—before pouring a copious amount of powdered rat poison into his late mother’s compact.

It was cheating. But you and Sejanus had both said it before—he was a rebel by nature. Bad news.

He visited the zoo enclosure and gave it to her then, informing her of the tunnels. Wiped her tears with a handkerchief, then told her he owed her his life and more. That you were okay, and it was all thanks to her. Lucy Gray looked overwhelmed for a moment. She did what any decent person would, she thought. He promised her that she’d get out. Return home to the Covey. False hope whispered unrealistic dreams into her ears and she let herself listen.

“We all do things we’re not proud of to survive,” he whispered when Lucy Gray attempted to protest, not wanting to poison anyone. He pushed the compact firmly into her hands. “Do it for your family.”

Conflict warred across her features. She nodded once, then twice.

Coriolanus' expression set with determination. “We are going to win this, Lucy Gray. We’re going to win this together. I’m going to get you home.”

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

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81folklore · 8 months

Text

heaven - OP81 - part 2

pairings: oscar piastri x private!secret!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: a very sweet softlaunch ends pretty quickly

authors notes: first of all a huge thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and taken the time to read my works it means so much to me and im so so grateful!! next, this is something i made at 1am so please bear with me😭. i am working on the lando and charles stories i PROMISE but i want them to be special and i currently have zero thoughts about where to take them so it might be a while🫣 also i almost finished this when tumblr DELETED IT?? i want to cry😁 ALSO i started this at like 1am and i cant be asked to do tweets rn so insta smau it is

part 1 part 3 masterlist

yourusername

liked by yourfriend2, user7 and 583 others

ahahah i love the beach and my friends

view comments

yourfriend2: dont be fooled she called me crying after the fourth photo bcs she lost 5 games of uno in a row

yourusername: i called you in confidence and this is how you repay me??

user6: its fine we know how emotional uno can get😁

yourusername: ??

user7: im so single hahahahhaa (im dying inside)

user10: is it confirmed that this is oscar?

user9: im not being funny but oscar doesnt even follow her so i think yous are just reaching

user10: …they have the same dog??

yourfriend6: might aswell post his face at this point

yourusername: leave me aloneeee im having fun!!

oscarpiastri

liked by clementnovalak, paularon_ and 93,357 others

second part of the season incoming 😁👊 (after a very competitive round of uno)

view comments

user7: ready to see you up on the podium🧡

user10: uno you say?

user3: right could they be more obvious😭

yourusername: its race week babyyy

*liked by oscarpiastri*

user17: literally what is happening why are all of the grid softlaunching😭

user8: and why does it always end in the hardest of launches

yourusername and oscarpiastri added to their stories

yourfriend2: 😭😭

yourusername: i am sick and tired i just want to POST him but softlaunches are so fun😔

yourfriend2: its really fun when everyone already knows?

yourusername: no but we are in too deep now☹️

user6: god you guys are insufferable

user23: JUST POST THE CUTE COUPLE PHOTOS ALREADY

user23: i lied please dont im so single it hurts

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 6,572 others

the world through my eyes☀️

view comments

oscarpiastri: i love you sososo much

oscarpiastri: my favorite person in the entire world

yourusername: ur literally my sunshine🫶

yourfriend1: god you make me SICK

yourusername: ..okay😁 oscarpiastri i love youuu🤭

landonorris: i hate people in love (you guys are very cute)

user10: THE NOTE OH

user18: THE HARDEST OF LAUNCHES HAPPENED

user7: he is her world oh my lord

user63: and the fact that hes her sunshine too😭😭

user63: literally crying myself to sleep

oscarpiastri

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 143,572 others

my happiness

view comments

yourusername: teheehee thats me🤭

yourusername: i LOVE YOUUU

yourusername: i didnt know you took photos of me like this☹️

oscarpiastri: of course your my favorite🧡

yourusername: oh could you get any cuter🫠

yourfriend4: thought you should know yn is currently jumping up and down and giggling while looking at this

user23: I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST THESE?? I CANT HANDLE THIS??

user8: god really saw me sad and said ‘heres the happiest and best couple, wallow more’

user16: YOU GUYS ARE LITERALLY THE CUTEST?? THE NOTES?? THE POSTS??

user1: i cant stand people in love (i want to cry and drown in my tears)

yourusername: oh my god im so obsessed with you

oscarpiastri: i loooove youuu

oscarpiastri added to their story

yourusername: ahhhhh im so☹️

yourusername: osc☹️☹️ur literally the cutest thing to exist

yourusername: my boys🫶🫶

yoursusername: im so in love with you sunshine☀️

oscarpiastri: love you, thank you for showing me happiness🤍

#f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #social media au #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #private!yn!oscar

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keerysfreckles · 24 days

Note

hiii!!!! lando and best friend reader and shes gotten into one of those sad days because shes thinking of how shes never dated anyone or had her first kiss or anything. and he offers to take her out on a date as friends and thats when he realizes hes in love with her (shes been in love with him this whole time). but they dont really say anything, but they just get increasingly more affectionate as best friends as the days go by. and everyone around them can see theyre so in love with each other - 🍒anon

loveless — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, slight swearing

a/n: lando p5 in japan HE WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING ON PODIUM

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n loved her small apartment in monaco. she loved it so much in fact that she's convinced her best friend that she's fine staying in day after day.

however if you got to know y/n, you'd learn this is out of the ordinary for the girl. usually she'd be out partying with lando, or hanging around the other members of the f1 grid. not sulking in her bathrobe and pajamas for three days in a row.

on the fourth day she recieved multiple texts from her best friend, lando norris, asking if she wanted to go out for drinks with him and a couple of friends.

y/n groaned, after reading the messages more than once. she really didn't have the energy to go out. not since her almost date last week didn't go as planned.

she met a rather attractive uni student on tinder, and they talked for a few days to get to know each other. less than a week later they planned to have dinner at a nice monegasque restaurant.

long story short, said tinder date never showed up, and never texted y/n the next morning explaining himself.

before the 'date' y/n didn't really believe in love. so of course, this screwed up with her perception of it even more.

lando was informed about the date, and was happy for y/n. he knew her history of falling in love was bleak, and he just wanted to be happy for her. so seeing his best friend wrapped up in three colorful blankets in her messy bedroom put a damper in his mood.

"what did i tell you about laying in the dark?" lando's voice surprises y/n. she jumps, before pausing her netflix show on her laptop.

"lan? what are you doing here?" she sits up, her eyes adjusting to the light lando just turned on.

lando sits on the edge of the bed, moving the laptop away from y/n, causing her to sit up as well.

"well you never answered my texts about going out tonight, so i figured i'd come here. plus you gave me that apartment key years ago."

y/n sighs. she knows she doesn't have the energy to go out tonight. "do i have to?"

lando sends y/n a sympathetic look. "maybe it could get your mind off that douche who stood you up last week. he obviously missed out on getting to know a great girl."

y/n's heart warmed at lando's words. he always knew how to cheer her up after she fell down.

y/n lets out a groan and falls back onto her pillows, her blankets encasing her once again.

"what if i never fall in love?" y/n thinks out loud. "or never go on a proper date? or mever even have my first kiss?"

lando's eyebrows furrow, "you've never had your first kiss?"

y/n takes the opportunity to kick his thigh, "yes shitbird, you know this." she lets out a small chuckle as he groans from the attack.

lando recalls her words again, "wait you've never been on a date either?"

y/n shakes her head, "nope."

"so that's why you're so beat up about this one not working out. i get it now," lando stands and walks towards y/n's opened closet door.

y/n sits up again, "lando what are you doing? i told you i don't feel like going out tonight."

lando ignores her for a moment as he continues sifting through her closet. his eyes and hands stop on a light purple dress.

"you still have this?" he holds it at an angle so y/n can see from her bed.

she nods, "of course. i've never gotten rid of any birthday present from you."

lando silently takes it off the hanger and throws it on the bed, making y/n confused.

"you and i are going out tonight," lando says confidently. "i'm taking you on a proper date. i'll text pierre, charles and carlos that i'll go out with them some other time."

y/n stares at him dumbfounded. she can't believe lando is taking her out on a date.

"when you say a proper date, what exactly does that entail?" y/n wonders, now removing her blankets from her body.

lando starts looking through y/n's very impressive shoe collection. "a very nice drive to an expensive restaurant, possinly with a candle lit dinner. you and i enjoying the best monegasque food we can. and maybe end the date with a classic near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n's taken back by his words again. she can't believe what she's hearing.

lando places a pair of white heels beside the dress on the bed, and leans forward slightly. "i'll be waiting in your living room, okay?" and with that, he kisses her forehead. the motion's been done a million times, but this time however felt different for the both of them.

y/n stares at her now closed bedroom door, and chuckles in disbelief while picking up the dress. maybe this was the push she needed to get out there again. party with her friends, and maybe go on more dates.

so she did as lando told. she was quick to brush through her hair, and change into the dress and heels. she styled it with silver jewelry and made sure to grab her small handled clutch before leaving her room.

lando stands from the couch. "now i think you look much better in this, than being covered in blankets."

y/n blushes at his words.

"do you have an idea of where we're going?" she locks her apartment door behind her, before lando leads her down the stairs with his hand on her lower back.

—

lando was starstuck.

during the ride to the restaurant, all the way up until they got the bill. (of course being the gentleman he is, he paid.)

he could barely take his eyes off y/n. he saw them shimmer as she spoke about her new job starting this month. he noticed how excited she got when he parked outside her favorite fancier restaurant.

now he was holding her heels for her, after giving her his jacket once the midnight air hit her skin. they were walking along the streets of monaco, planning on doing a little wrap around the block to get back to lando's car.

as the duo was talking and walking, they're arms kept brushing against each others. y/n couldn't help but giggle almost everytime, thanks to the white wine slowly making it's way in her system from dinner.

lando thought it was the best sound in the world.

on the way back to y/n's apartment, lando contemplated resting his hand over her thigh. she sat towards him, angling her body, so in theory he easily could hold onto her leg. however he refrained, but his heartbeat sped up when he felt y/n grab his right hand. she played with his fingers, and ending up enclosing her hand in his. he hummed at the feeling.

"so, we've done almost everything on my list to get you to have a perfect date," lando speaks as the pair stops right in front of y/n's door.

"what are we missing?" y/n asks, forgetting what he had stated earlier in the evening.

lando smiles down at the girl, his pupils dilating. "in order for you to have a perfect date, we have to have a near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n instantly blushes. she's thought about kissing lando before, but never thought any of her daydreams would become a reality.

lando steps forward and places his unoccupied hand on her pink cheek. he runs his thumb over the skin, and notices her pupils becoming wider.

"so what do you say?" lando almost whispers, the rasp in his voice becoming evident.

y/n looks between his eyes, and can't come up with a complete sentence as her mind falls blank.

silently y/n stands on her tip toes and grabs lando's face between her hands. she brings him down to her to connect their lips.

his taste like chocolate, from the slice of cake he ordered for dessert. hers taste like sugar and cinnamon from the cocktail she had at the end of the night.

lando brings his other hand around to y/n's back. she can't help but smile against his lips at the feeling of his arm around her. in the hundreds of times she's pictured kissing her best friend, it never ended like this.

the two finally pulled away, both of their cheeks blushed and pupils wide.

they both let out a rather large breath, and in the span of three seconds, y/n's opening her apartment door with lando following right on her tail. before they can fully step inside, lando's lips meet hers again, and lando definitely plans on spending the night.

684 notes · View notes

luveline · 25 days

Note

That family holiday kbd was soo cute😭

Can we get a blurb about playing at the resort’s pool with Steve and the kids? 🫶🏻

kbd — the harrington’s go poolside !! mom!reader, 1.4k

“Can we hold hands?” Beth asks.

You throw your hand out to her showfully. She giggles as she takes it, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and a huge breakfast from the buffet. You and Steve are probably happier about her gorging than she is; it’s never a bad day when Bethie eats well.

Steve holds a toddling Dove’s hand, leaning down to accommodate her tiny stature, while Avery walks just ahead. “It’s gonna be fun, bubby,” Steve’s saying, “I promise.”

Dove’s been to the pool a couple of times, but never for long. Last time she’d been in Steve’s arms for the whole session, while you shepherded Beth, and Avery played water games with her Aunt Robin. You’re a little scared to be taking them now with just the two of you, but Steve reassured you that everyone would be perfectly safe in the kids pool under both your supervision and the lifeguards, and you tend to trust his judgement.

You leave the hotel lobby and step out into the resort’s back, white concrete and bright green sections of grass cut by paths that lead down to the pools and water features. Steve shouts for Avery to stay close, your oldest girl gasping with excitement as you draw near the pool and families already swimming in the sun. Her flip-flops slap the ground.

“Mom, it’s too sunny,” Bethie whines.

“This is why we all have hats. Do you want a hat?”

“No.” She frowns. “I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?” you ask. “I might have something that can help. Let’s just get to some seats and I’ll show you.”

There are rows of blue plastic chairs and sun loungers outfitted with tables near the kiddie pool, more further down toward the adult pool. Families have already set up in places, but there’s plenty of room for you, your family, and your huge baby bag.

Steve hoists Dove onto a sun lounger. Avery next, though she stays standing, her excitement catching. A sprinkler shaped like a flower rains generous streams of water down onto a laughing little girl and her mother. Avery watches them over Steve’s shoulder. “Can we swim? Please, dad, I want to go under the sprinkler!”

“Yeah. Let’s take your nice dress off first, sweetheart, put your arms up. Up, up!”

She holds up her arms for Steve to help her out of her dress. You and Beth take the sunlounger opposite, where she’s quick to climb into your lap, hiding her face from the sun.

You knew Beth wouldn’t wear a hat. She hates them, just like she hates flip flops, sandals, and any shoes without socks. Luckily she’s fine to go barefoot from here —you begin to untie her laces. “I have something new for us to try. I think you’re gonna love it, but maybe you won’t, I don’t know.”

“What is it?”

You unzip the bag and pull out a round blue container. It clicks open, unveiling a toddler-sized pair of sunglasses made of a strange soft plastic.

“You can match daddy,” you sing-song, attempting to entice her. “And keep your eyes away from the sun.”

“Will they stay on when I swim?” she asks.

“Maybe not, but I’ve got you goggles for swimming. Are you ready to swim? Or are we gonna sit here for a bit in the sun?”

Avery jumps down off of the sunlounger. The skirt of her swimsuit bounces as she runs to you, hands vying for your bag. “Mom, I want goggles too.”

“I got you some, don’t worry. Let daddy do it. He has to make them smaller on your head.”

Steve outfits Avery in her goggles, and takes Dove’s dress off to leave her in her swimsuit (or scuba suit). Beth doesn’t wanna swim yet, but you take her dress off and begin the long process of covering each child in SPF.

“There,” you say, wiping a smudge of sunscreen from Avery’s arm down into her hand. “Tada! You’re now safe from the sun.”

“I love the sun.”

“I know, but the sun doesn’t love us. It gets too hot.”

“That’s why we have to drink.”

“Exactly, baby, exactly.” You frame her face with your hands. “Hey, you look beautiful today. You do! Look at your lovely smile, so pretty, better let me have a little kiss.”

“Mommy,” she giggles.

“Just a little one, Avey, just one–” You kiss her cheek twice, one near her nose and the other her ear, before pulling her in for a slightly slimy hug. The sun warms the back of your neck, and her shoulders are warm where your arms slide over them.

“That was two,” Steve says.

“You rat,” you say, grinning as he leans down to hug you from behind.

“Better give me one to make it even,” he says in your ear.

“Don’t think that’s how it works.”

He gives you a quick kiss. “Hey, Dove! Babe, where are you going?”

“Swim!”

“Guess we better get in,” he says, thumb in your shoulder and then suddenly gone as he chases your waddling barely-toddler before she can get too far away.

“Ready, Beth?” you ask.

“You’re coming in?” she asks you.

“Yeah, I’m coming in,” you say, forcing a smile.

You've had three babies. You know you don’t look like you did when you and Steve first met, don’t look like somebody you’d see on TV or in the background of a Madonna video. He sees you naked all the time and he’s never had any complaints (the opposite, always), but these people aren’t used to you. You have a doughy stomach and the baby weight sticks to your chest and thighs; you’re so worried you’ll be judged for how you look you start to resent yourself for not trying to fix it.

You pull your dress over your head hesitantly.

An immediate wolf whistle echoes from the poolside.

Steve’s ankle deep in the kids shallows, his fingers still in his mouth, the other arm wrapped around Dove. The sun turns his hair a dirty blonde, his mild tan lightened.

“Steve, don’t,” you scorn, immediately flustered at the attention it draws.

“That’s my wife,” Steve says to Avery, unaffected.

You grab Bethie, kiss her under the chin, and try to act like you aren’t embarrassed as you meet them in the water.

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he says, grabbing for you, not quite reaching.

The water’s cold. “Stop, Steve.”

“You’re so beautiful, come here, I need a kiss.”

“Stop.”

“Seriously?” he asks.

You hug Beth. “Maybe one more.”

“Mom, you’re beautiful!” Avery shouts.

“Yeah, mom, you’re beautiful,” Beth says.

Steve smirks from over Dove’s head. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

You and Steve kneel in the pool. The water isn’t that deep at its deepest, and the girls can stand without being submerged. Avery and Bethie hold hands under the sprinkler flower to stop from either girl getting lost, while you and Steve watch with Dove held in his arms. “How’s that, Dovey? Are you having fun?” you ask saccharinely.

Steve sighs. “You really are so, so beautiful.”

“Daddy’s feeling silly,” you say to Dove, “he doesn’t get it.”

“I get it.”

“You don’t think people wonder what you’re doing with me?” you ask, mostly joking, ninety percent as you give your stomach a self-deprecating squeeze. “You look like you're still twenty-two.”

“No I don’t. I used to have abs.”

You push through the water to poke his lean stomach. “Feels solid to me,” you say.

He laughs and pulls away from you. His eyes dart between you and the girls, softened with his laughing, “Get off of me, you rascal.”

“Rascal?”

You laugh worse.

Steve’s predictable. He makes sure Dove is alright floating in the water with his one hand on her back before he leans across to kiss you, a wet hand to your collar, his lips persistent as he pecks you twice, three times. “Love you, pretty girl,” he says.

You flush with heat from your face to your fingertips. That’s a rare one. “I love you too.”

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rafeandonlyrafe · 21 days

Text

just add water

words: 5k

warnings: brief illusions to sex but no smut, mermaids (like h2o mermaids), tropical storm/bad weather, really fluffy hehe, australian!reader, lots of kisses omfg these bitches in LOVE!

it's one of the few things rafe does to calm himself down. sandals held in his hand, feet pressing into the cool sand with every step.

rafe looks down the beach, the moonlight reflecting off the water as the waves gently lap against the shore. he squints into the darkness when he sees movement, hoping his relaxing walk isn't going to be interrupted by someone's public intimate moment.

he continues walking, the same stretch of beach he always does, passing by familiar houses of friends and old classmates.

his vision clears as he gets closer, eyes widening when he sees you, knees pulled up to your chest as you stare into the water.

“hey.” rafe says when he's a couple yards away, not wanting to spook. you, but it fails as you gasp and jump up to standing.

“sorry.” rafe holds his hands up, trying to show that he means you no harm. “im just taking a walk on the beach.”

you take a step back, like you're making room for him to walk past, for him to continue to leave footsteps in the sand, but rafe looks closer at you as the moon shines down, light slightly illuminating from the rows of houses with porch lights or bedroom lights left on before bed.

“im rafe.” rafe can't seem to keep walking, his feet planted firmly as his eyes roam over your face. “i don't think we've met before.”

“just moved here.” you explain quickly. “im y/n.”

“you're australian?” it's more of a statement than a question, but you nod, the accent clearly giving you away.

“i was wondering why i haven't seen you before. it's a small island, everyone kinda knows everyone.”

“yeah.” it's a signal to end the conversation, polite but firm, but again rafe can't help himself, drawn close to you looking out onto the water just as he does.

“would you like me to give you a tour of the island? tomorrow or whenever you're available.”

“that would actually be really nice.” you smile at rafe. you were worried about leaving everything you knew in australia when your parents moved you across the country, and it's perfect luck that you meet someone your very first night in the outer banks willing to show you around.

“here.” rafe pulls his phone out of his pocket. he puts it on do not disturb for his walks, pretending it's not there, not allowing it to distract him, but he needs your phone number, needs to see you again, to see if your eyes are the same enchanting twinkling of the water in the daytime.

you take his phone and put in your name and number before handing it back, hand briefly touching his, feeling warm against your slightly chilled skin, making you realize you probably should have put on more than just shorts and a tank top for relaxing at the shore at night.

“ill text you.” rafe says, giving you one last look over before taking a step back, not turning away yet, keeping his eyes on you, as if you're an apparition thats going to disappear the minute he blinks.

rafe finally turns away to walk home, not looking back. he smiles. he can feel your eyes on him.

you sigh as you step into the bath, sinking in as your legs morph into a tail moments after the water makes contact with you. you never realized how much you loved showers until you couldn't take them anymore.

you have a love hate relationship with your abilities. being able to manipulate the shape and volume of water, as well as enhanced breath and super speed swimming, is amazing. but having your bottom half turn into a mermaid tail every time water touches you is a hard accomodation to make when your parents love the ocean.

you wash yourself off quickly, knowing you have to get totally dry before rafe gets here to show you around the island.

two weeks in the outer banks. the time feels like it's flown by. you're surprised how much you don't miss australia. your parents tended to jump around from town to town to surf, so you never developed a close group of friends either.

two weeks spent with rafe, first showing you the popular parts of the island, then his favorite areas, the spots only locals know about, filling you in on all the nicknames that can't be found with a simple google search.

the only place he hasn't shown you yet is anything out on the water. you refuse every time he offers to take you out on his boat, and his sad face breaks your heart.

“wanna go out on the boat today?” rafe asks, just as you're thinking about it, like the idea transferred from your head to his. you hope that's not a new power developing.

“sure.” you finally concede, heart fluttering when rafes face breaks into a wide smile. you are taking things slowly, despite what is clearly forming. “but no swimming.”

you hate having to lie to rafe, pretending like you don't wake up every morning and explore the waters of the outer banks before hiding under a pier to dry off. you told him you were afraid of the water, that you didn't like going in it, merely enjoying looking at it.

rafe is excited to take you out, so much so that wheezie gives him a weird look before shrugging, deciding to herself that crushes make boys do crazy things, because she's never seen her brother act like this, so enthralled.

“here, ill help you.” rafe reaches his hand out as you step into the boat. you don't want to let go as he guides you towards the bench behind the helm, allowing you to sit down as your fingers finally disconnect.

“im gonna show you everything.” rafe undoes the lines quickly before returning to you. “and by the end of your boat tour, you'll realize that the outer banks is so much better than australia.”

rafe places an arm around your back, not caring that he now has to navigate with just one as you giggle and tuck yourself into his side.

the ocean calls to you as rafe shows you different spots, the outer banks feeling so different when looking back at the land.

rafe anchors the boat at a sandbar. you look over the edge, surprised how crystal clear the water is in this area.

“there's a spring in that marshy area over there.” rafe points towards a cluster of grass. “it feeds out into the ocean here. one of the best spots in the obx.”

“it's beautiful.” you say honestly. the sun is warm against your face, tanning your skin and relaxing you, keeping you dry enough to not turn whenever a drop of water splashed over the side of the boat onto your skin.

it's dangerous to be on the boat, but you can't help it with the way rafes eyes light up as he looks at you before ripping his shirt off over his head, catapulting over the side into the water.

“rafe!” you shout as a plume of water splashes up, soaking your arm.

rafe smiles at you as he resurfaces before his expression quickly shifts to a frown when he sees you furiously rubbing a towel against your arm.

“y/n, the water isn't dirty.” rafe didn't realize how deep your fear got. he climbs back onto the boat as you stagger back, face twisting in fear as you look at rafe.

“shit, im sorry.” rafe takes a step towards you, but you back away.

“take me back, please.” you sit down at the front of the boat, making your position clear.

rafe nods, glad the water covering him is hiding the tears that well up in his eyes as he pulls the anchor.

you stay sat far away, towel wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from getting wet as rafe drives back in silence, not speaking until he has the boat tied back to the dock, now completely dry and donning his tshirt again.

“hey.” rafe kneels in front of you. “im really sorry.”

you open your mouth to reply, to tell him it's okay, but rafe continues speaking.

“you said no swimming. i should have listened. i saw this-” rafe places a glimmering queen helmet conch shell in your lap. “at the sand bar and wanted to get it for you. so you could remember this day.”

rafe stands up, figuring this is the last time he'd see you after his mess up. “so you can remember me.”

you stand up quickly, but make sure to carefully set the shell on the seat next to you. before you can second guess your actions, before that cautious voice in your head can convince you otherwise, you press your lips against rafes, having to rise to your tiptoes to reach.

rafe hesitates for a moment before kissing back, arms wrapping around your waist, tugging you in tight to him.

“this is a cute spot.” you snuggle into rafes side, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, showing all of the obx that he's taken, and you're the one who's captured his eye.

“it is.” rafe hums, looking around the diner. it's not his usual place, but rafe wanted somewhere casual to take you, so you didn't have to worry about dressing up or proper etiquette for your first official date.

you order a stack of pancakes as it's around brunch time, rafe ordering a cheeseburger for himself. you smile at the waiter as they walk away before looking to rafe. “im totally gonna steal some of your fries by the way.”

“fries and pancakes?” rafe twists his face up as you giggle.

“potatoes go with everything.” you explain, like it's a commonly known fact.

“what's your favorite food?” rafe asks. he's dying to know everything about you, wanting to sit you down and run through the list of questions in his head, but he knows it's best to take things slow, to allow things to progress naturally despite wanting to ask you about your favorite color, past boyfriends, whether you're a cat or dog person and so so much more.

you're about to answer when a passing waitress stumbles, her tray of waters heading to a crowded table dumping over you, getting your entire side wet.

the waitress goes to apologize, but you're already on your feet, mental timer starting in your head as you rush to the restroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize it's just a single stall as you lock the door behind you moments before you fall to the ground as your tail appears.

“y/n?” rafe must have run after you as he jiggles the doorknob.

“im okay!” you call out. “just drying off. give me a minute.”

“are you sure?” you can picture rafe standing outside, ear pressed against the door.

“yeah. ill be out soon.” you try to reach up to the towel dispenser with little luck. “you better not eat all the fries before i get back.”

you're relieved to hear rafes laugh as you finally get the motion sensor to work, rubbing it over your side, letting out a sigh of relief when your tail finally transforms back into two legs.

you stand up, always feeling a bit wobbly at first, but you want to get back to rafe, to your date and most importantly as your stomach rumbles to your pancakes and fries.

“aussie cheesy potatoes.” you say as you slide into your seat. “my favorite food, aussie cheesy potatoes.”

i miss you

you send the text to rafe, smiling when his response bubble instantly appears.

i was just about to text you the same thing

you know you're in the honeymoon phase of your relatively new relationship, but you can't help the giggle that escapes from your lips, the way your heart starts to beat faster.

meet you halfway? rafe sends back before an image loads of a dark beach, camera pointing down the shoreline towards your house.

on my way <3

you quickly touch up your makeup in the mirror, deciding to stay in your pajamas since they're just a loose long sleeve shirt and comfortable shorts. you hesitate between putting on a pair of sneakers or sandals, ultimately deciding more coverage is the smarter option.

you are quiet when leaving your house, just in case your parents are awake. you doubt theyd care anyways, they probably haven't noticed how much you've been gone lately. you are an adult after all, but they stopped being protective the minute you were in your teens, letting you surf solo for the first time the day after your thirteenth birthday.

you walk down the beach, keeping your steps fast as you look for rafe, breaking out into a jog when you finally see his figure emerge from the darkness.

you throw your arms around rafe as he twirls you, tucking his head into your neck, pressing kisses to your delicate skin before pulling back to connect your lips together.

“hey.” rafe smiles at you, lowering you carefully back to the ground.

“hey.” you peck his lips again in another kiss.

“you look beautiful.” rafe says earnestly, the words falling from his mouth. you're beautiful to him during the day too, but there's something about night time that makes you shine, like the moon calls to you.

“not too bad yourself handsome.” you let rafe string your fingers together before beginning to walk, back in the direction of tanneyhill.

you chat about your days as you stroll, mostly with what rafe was occupied with as he helped his dad, spending your first day away from each other since you arrived on the island. safe to say you're both falling fast.

“stay the night with me?” rafe asks when you're standing in front of tanneyhill, the large house frightening imposing.

“i don't know…” you trail off, but the smile on your face tells rafe you clearly want to.

“at least lay with me on the hammock for a while.” rafe tugs on your hand, and you find your feet following him. he lifts the mosquito netting up as you duck under, toeing your shoes off as rafe lays down.

you snuggle in next to him, sighing as you rest your head against his chest, the fabric squeezing the two of you together.

you both enjoy the gentle quiet, the sound of the waves and wind rushing through the leaves the only thing breaking into your peaceful silence, not needing words, just each other.

sleep takes you both, warmed by your bodies wrapped together.

you're not sure what jolts you awake, but you're glad it happens as your eyes snap open, a drop of water hitting your cheek.

“shit…” you mumble, quickly pushing it off your skin as you look up at the gray sky, the events of last night coming back to you as you realize you're still in the hammock next to rafe. you don't want to move, you're the most comfortable you've ever been in your life, but the skies threatening to open and dump it's rain down on you has you scrambling.

“baby?” rafes voice is deep with sleep as you rush to put your shoes on, knowing the dew on the grass is going to turn you as you look towards the house.

“i-i need to pee!” you yell quickly, pushing out of the mosquito netting as you run, the rain beginning to fall. you're aware of every drop as you push some away with your abilities, but ultimately you can't stop nature as a few drops hit your back.

you aim for the glass doors, praying they're left unlocked as you burst inside, eyes widening when you see not just wheezie, who you've come to know pretty well, but the entire rest of the cameron family milling around in the kitchen.

you're seconds away from transforming as you find your voice. “bathroom.” you simply say before rushing into the closest half bath, glad you accepted the full tour from rafe one day when both ward and rose were away from the house.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath as you hear through the door that rafe has come in after you, mentioning something to his family about rain coming before the tropical storm set to hit in the next couple weeks if it doesn't change direction.

you grab the towel, neatly embroidered with their last name as you rub your back, glad it's only a couple drops as you're quickly able to exit the bathroom.

“sorry about that.” you say awkward, clasping your hands in front of you.

“i was wondering when you lovebirds would wake up or if the rain would do that for you.” ward smiles, eyes flicking between you and rafe. you let him lead the amount of affection as he walks and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“stay with us for breakfast, y/n.” rose says. clearly someone told the couple about you, most likely wheezie tattling on her brother. you just hope she said nice things.

“yeah, id love that.” you say after rafe squeezes your shoulder to let you know it's okay.

good morning gorgeous

you smile at the text, grabbing your phone the second you were awake.

you quickly reply, a string of emojis that only lovesick you would type out.

there's a party this friday. come with me?

you glance at the calendar hanging on your wall. not a typical one filled with appointments or birthdays, but one charting the phases of the moon, letting you know when it's safe to be out at night. you let out a curse when you realize friday night is a full moon.

sorry baby i can't :( parents want me home to call my grandma back in australia

you can come after, yeah?

sorry rafe

you leave it at that, hating telling him no, but you need to stay inside during the full moon.

you should totally go though! spend some time with your friends

rafe doesn't mention the party again when you meet up later that day.

“i got the party changed to saturday.” rafe says, his head sat in your lap as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“what?” you question, raising your eyebrows. you're sat in your bed, the afternoon sun pouring in from the open windows, watching some show on tv neither of you were truly invested in, just background noise as you look into each other's eyes.

“the party this friday. you can go saturday right?”

“yeah.” you nod, smile stretching across your lips. “yeah, i can.” you shouldn't be surprised rafe changed everyone's schedules just to fit yours, the party is at his friend's house after all.

you're excited to finally meet them, you've heard bits and pieces from rafe, but have never gotten to actually see them.

you spend the entire time you're locked in your bedroom on friday night choosing exactly what to wear, curtains drawn tight closed, even blankets thrown over for extra precaution, not allowing any of the full moon to peek inside.

you realize you made the correct decision when saturday night comes and you open the door to rafe, his jaw visibly dropping.

“oh my god, i was totally picturing someone different when you were talking about topper.” you whisper to rafe after walking away from his friends to find a quieter spot. you didn't even have to tell rafe that you were starting to get overwhelmed, he seemed to sense it and pulled you away, not caring that kelce was still going on about something.

“what did you picture?” rafe asks, hoping the talking will distract you from all the excitement of the party, finding an empty guest bedroom and sitting down on the bed together.

“i don't know why but dark hair.” you shrug. “and i always pictured glasses.”

rafe laughs as he leans against you, your hand coming to his hair to scratch at his head, the soft movements of your fingers comforting you just as much as rafe.

“thanks for meeting them. and coming here with me.” rafe says earnestly. he's always liked parties of course, going wild and getting drunk or high or whatever he felt like that night, grinding against different girls and ultimately taking one to bed. rafe never put together how all of that was just a distraction, that he wasn't truly happy.

“you make me happy.” rafe says, turning to look at you, eyes still twinkling, reminding him of the ocean, the moon, the most stunning gemstone, and something so uniquely you.

“rafe.” you coo, pressing your lips together. you don't come out of the guest bedroom until the morning after, giggling quietly as you sneak out of toppers house, your hair a mess and clothes askew.

“i just realized ive never seen you in a swimsuit before.” rafes eyes look carefully over your body, having just taken off your coverup once your arrived at the spring again, rafe vowing not to jump in again, simply enjoying laying out and tanning on the boat.

you smile at rafe, gesturing for him to get closer.

rafe crawls over the bed area at the front of the boat to hover over you, pressing his lips tightly against yours. your hands feel his muscles, skirting from his chest down to his defined abs.

“you know, there's no one else out here.” you smile up at him as you reach lower.

“naughty girl.” rafe chuckles, glancing around to make sure no boats were within view.

once you're both finished, tired and panting, skin sheened with sweat, rafe finally brings up a question he's been dying to ask.

“why don't you like the water?”

you place your chin on your hand as you turn to look at rafe, taking a moment to formulate an answer. you hate having to lie to him, but you don't want to reveal your secret yet, for rafe to look at you any differently.

“i used to love to swim, to surf.” you say honestly. “but then something happened… and it's turned me away from it. i don't even like pools.”

rafe doesn't push for more, but his face does turn to a frown, thinking about whatever happened. he's guessing you got caught in a riptide or had a near drowning experience, he would never in a million years guess that you fell into a cave exploring an island after a fight with your parents and swam through a mysterious pool to get out, waking up to surf the next day only to transform into a mermaid.

“im sorry baby.” rafe says honestly. he wishes he could fix whatever happened, to enjoy riding on a jet ski with you, or relaxing on a sandbar.

“it's okay.” you shake your head. “i like being on the boat with you.” you say. “you make me feel comfortable.”

rafe pulls you back into him, not caring if you get an uneven tan line as he kisses you again. he swears you taste like honey with the slightest hint of sea salt.

“we got cyclones all the time back in australia.” you tell rafe, looking out your window. the sky looks normal, no sign of a tropical storm that's supposed to be blowing in soon, thankfully it never upgraded to a hurricane.

“do you want me to come over for it anyways?” rafe smiles at you as you finish braiding your hair. “hold you just in case you get scared.”

you laugh as you stand up, dramatically falling onto the bed, placing a fanned hand on your forehead. “oh, save me rafe cameron, save me!”

rafe laughs as well, pulling you against him. your shared laughter always turns into shared kisses. it's been months now that you've been in the outer banks. you swear your accent is even diminishing ever so slightly.

but you don't miss australia. you love your life here. spending nearly every day with rafe, exploring the island and the waterways, trying out different food spots and even letting rafe give you golf lessons, despite your inability to hit the ball straight.

you open the door as soon as there's a knock, expecting rafe, but your face falls when you see ward standing there.

“y/n, is rafe here?” he questions, entire body soaking wet from the storm, now covered by your front porch, dripping onto the welcome mat.

“no.” you shake your head. “he should be here any minute though…”

“shit.” wards eyes are wide with worry. “he took the boat out. i was hoping he docked it here.”

“the boat?” your voice rises as your anxiety does as well. “what is he doing on the water in this storm?”

“he likes to go to the spring at the start of storms to watch them roll down the coast, but he's always back before it hits. something must have happened to the boat, i don't know.” you can tell ward is rambling. “maybe he ran out of gas or got caught in something-”

“you have to go out there and save him! the waves-” you don't need to tell ward, you're sure he knows how bad the water is going to get, how violent the storm will make the sea, even in the shallow area rafe is in.

“i can't.” he shakes his head. “i already tried the coastguard but they won't go out until the storm is over.”

“he's your son!” you argue. “you go!”

“i can't.” you can hear the pain in wards voice. “if something happens to me, sarah and wheezie will have no one.”

you know it's not an appropriate reaction, but you're so mad, so worried about rafe being out there in this mess that you slam the door right in wards face.

you walk back through your house, past the empty kitchen and dark dining room to your living room, the glass doors revealing the storm raging outside. you make a decision in that split second, opening the door and barely shutting it behind you before you take off, rain hitting you in the face. you send out a prayer to the moon to allow you to reach the water before you transform. you make it onto the sand before face planting, having to awkwardly pull yourself forward into the water.

the second you're submerged, you take off, using your speed swimming abilities to navigate through the waters and strong tides. you go faster than ever, heading in the direction of the spring and sandbar, desperate to find your boyfriend and make sure he is safe.

you see through the rain at the surface of the water his boat, letting out a sigh of relief when you see he's anchored in his usual spot.

“rafe!” you call once your surface. “rafe!” you shout again, hoping he can hear you over the roar of the wind and rain.

rafe pops up, looking over the edge, wrench in hand, clearly trying to fix whatever is wrong with his boat, a smear of oil on his forehead not washing away with the rain.

“y/n?” rafe shouts. “what the fuck are you doing?”

rafe drops the wrench, rushing closer to the edge as he looks at you. your tail flicks up. there's no hiding it anymore. you don't want to anyways.

“babe, get out of the water theres-” rafe blinks, his eyes squinting as he realizes its not some strange fish, but in fact covering your legs.

“get in the water rafe im going to swim us back home.” you shout, eyes turning to the sky, looking down the coast. the worst of the storm hasn't hit yet thankfully. with the size of the waves coming, it's sure to capsize his boat.

“baby-” rafe swallows harshly before jumping over the side. he may not understand what's going on, but he trusts you.

you grab onto rafe, keeping his head above the surface as you swim. it's slower getting back pushing him with you, but you go as fast as your tail will allow.

“you're a mermaid.” rafe says simply when you get back to shore, deciding to go to your house instead of tanneyhill, just in case ward is looking out his windows for rafe to return.

“go inside, ill be okay in the water.” you tell rafe, just needing to make that final couple steps onto the sand.

“im not leaving you out here.” rafe simply says, glancing to your tail before back at your face. he scoops you up in his arms, holding you tight to his chest as he carries you onto land, despite how heavy your tail is.

you hold onto rafes shoulders as he brings you inside. he sets you down on the plush rug in the living room as gently as possible.

“the tail doesn't go away until im dry again.” you lift your fin up and down as the rain pounds against the windows.

“ill get some towels.” rafe is ridiculously calm, coming back and patting you down in silence until your legs reappear.

“im sorry for not telling you earlier.” you say with a whisper, hand reaching out to hold rafes, shifting to sit up. “i-i love you rafe, but i understand if you want to break-”

you can't even finish your sentence as rafe leans in, pressing your lips together. “i love you too.”

“is that the right part?” you ask rafe, leaning yourself against the ladder as he fixes the engine on the boat, somehow it managed to stay anchored at the sandbar.

“we'll see right now.” rafe cranks the key, letting out a cheer when it turns on.

you smile as he jumps over the side in a dramatic celebration before resurfacing and shaking his wet hair out of his face.

“okay, you gotta show me again.” rafe stands on the sandbar as you swim around him, tail flicking back and forth.

you concentrate on a spot of water, lifting it into the air before popping it like a bubble, sending droplets raining down.

“you're the most amazing person ive ever met.” rafe says. “most amazing mermaid.” you correct him with a giggle and a splash of your tail.

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

#i just love the thought that Eddie used to secretly enjoy basketball ‘for some reason’ ❤️#pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #implied homophobia

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