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l1tw1ck · 1 year

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Fuck (Marry, Kill)

You get drugged in the backseat of Kurt's car

Bottom!FTM Kurt Kunkle x Top!Masc Reader

{Request} | AFAB Language Used

CW: Non-Con, Stalking, Drugged Sex (Aphrodisiacs), Oral, Car Sex, Squirting, Degrading, Spanking, Daddy Kink, Creampie, Kidnapping

📝 1,213 Words

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"Thanks for picking me up again…uh-" You pause, noticing that your driver’s wearing the same shirt you were wearing last time he drove you.

"It’s Kurt, you know, KurtsWorld96? I drove you la- last week?" He looks at you offendedly.

"No- I- ugh…I just- I have the same shirt."

"Oh yeah, I know." He smiles. You give him a weird creeped out look but don’t press him further. You don’t wanna know. Kurt grabs a reusable water bottle that was in the cup holder and hands it to you, eyes still on the road. "You mus- must be thirsty, have some water."

"I dunno…" You look at the bottle suspiciously. It wasn’t see through so you couldn’t tell if it was really water in there.

"C'mon. Jus- just drink it, o- okay?" Kurt tries to stop himself from losing his temper.

"…Okay." You shrug. It’s not like you had much to live for anyway. You take a big sip of the water, weirdly enough you were kinda interested to see what would happen. The last thing you remember before blacking is Kurt’s weird smile in the mirror.

You finally come to, you shut your eyes tightly as a bright white light overloads your senses. You're so delirious you could barely hear anything either. The only thing you could make out was Kurt saying, "Fuck, marry, or kill?"

You couldn’t even process what he said, you’re completely out of your mind. You’re still in the backseat of his car but your arms are tied behind your back. You don’t even try to move, you’re too fucked up to do anything.

"Fu- fuck?" Kurt blushes. "Really guys?" He looks at the results of his poll.

Someone donates a dollar, the text to speech reads the message aloud. "Don’t act like you didn’t want fuck to win."

Kurt bites his lip. "Well…obviously…" Kurt fumbles with the waistband of your sweats.

A quiet involuntary groan escapes your lips as he finally makes it to your underwear, hand lightly tracing your dick. "You like that?" Kurt laughs creepily. "Should I suck them off, guys?" He looks at the chat, the answer is unanimous. Everyone wanted to see him give you a blowjob.

"Wonder how big your dick is…" He kneels down on the floor and pulls your underwear down excitedly. Your half hard cock flops out, making Kurt moan softly.

He grips your dick, licking it up like it's ice cream. He sucks lightly on your tip, drinking up your pre cum.

"Mm.." You look down at him, bucking your hips up. Kurt's eyes widen, the drug was an aphrodisiac but you should be too weak to do anything. Kurt tries his best not to throw up as your cock continuously attacks the back of his throat. "Fuck.."

The tips of his ears redden from the sounds of your groans. He's always loved your voice and smell. When he stole some of your clothes, he recorded you talking and used it and your clothes to get off. The stream saw the whole thing, from the break in to the heavy breaths he let out after his orgasm.

All his viewers wanted to see him get his brains fucked out, some even wanted to do it themselves.

"Yes—" You roll your head back, your movements jittering as you come. Kurt swallows everything he can before pulling away.

He turns to the chat. "Wha- what next?" His voice is hoarse.

The chat is unanimous, everyone wants you to fuck him.

Kurt bites his lip and turns back to you, his blush illuminated by the LEDs draped around his car. He takes his pants off and gets onto the seats, leaning against the door. He spreads his legs apart, showing you and one of the various cameras how soaked he is while wearing what is no doubt a stolen pair of your underwear.

You watch hazily as he pulls the boxers off, spreading his folds apart before pushing two fingers in. He shivers under your gaze, putting a show on for you.

Your length springs back to life as you practically drool over him. He keeps his eyes locked on your face while yours are focused on his dripping cunt.

He slowly pulls his fingers out then crawls over to you. With his back facing you, Kurt lowers himself down onto your cock. He moans like a whore as you fill him up, he's been waiting for this.

You wiggle out of your restraints, which were lazily tied together, and grip his waist tightly. He wraps his arms around the headrest and looks back at you, a dark and lustful look on your face that makes him tremble.

You're out of your mind right now and all you can think about is how good Kurt feels around you. You buck your hips up into him while bringing his body down to meet your thrusts.

Kurt bites his lip and grins, if it weren't for the fact that he parked in the middle of nowhere, everyone would be able to hear his slutty moans. He glances over to his phone, his stream has over 50k viewers now.

He makes a peace sign and widens his grin, his pose starts to falter when your cock rams against his g-spot. "Ooh- fuck~!"

Your movements however, never falter, even when he squirts all over the seat and car floor. Kurt didn't understand how powerful the drug was until now. Even despite how cramped it is, you're still fucking him so damn roughly.

"Shit- shit-" He hugs the headrest tightly, drool dripping down onto the seat. "Holy sh- shit~"

The chat is flooded with degrading words, slut shaming Kurt and calling him names like whore and slut. He turns back to you, wanting to hear those words come out of your mouth.

"Da- daddy~!" He moans, hoping to provoke something out of you.

You groan, somehow slamming into him harder. "Mmh-" You spank him.

He gasps, his eyes shooting wide open. "Fuck!" Kurt grins. "Again- fuck— spa- spank me- again!"

You spank him again. "slutty little bitch.." You mumble.

"Aah~! Yes- 'm a slutty bitch, daddy–" Kurt bites his lip and causes it to bleed, coming once again.

You dig your nails into his hips before coming, filling him with your load. It's so much that Kurt's convinced you've been abstaining.

Kurt looks at his phone with hazy vision, seeing '100k viewers'. "Tha- thanks you guys." He makes a goofy smile, his hand shaking as he makes a peace sign.

You pull out of him and sit down, coming back down to earth. You hear Kurt talking in the background while you're trying to put all the pieces of your memory together, trying to make sense of it all.

Kurt turns off the stream and grabs his (your) underwear, pulling it up to save whatever cum hasn't fallen out of him and climbs into the driver's seat. "I'll take you home now."

You make a noise in response and lean into the car seat, drifting off to sleep.

You wake up half an hour later and look around. "This...where are we going?"

Kurt laughs. "Home."

"This isn't where my house is.."

"Oh no, I meant my home. We're going to my house."

#top male reader #male reader #wicks🕯works #wicks🕯requests #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle x male reader #kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle smut #dom male reader #spree x reader #spree smut #bottom kurt kunkle #sub kurt kunkle #🕯️kurt kunkle #🕯️slasher

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kumezyzo · 9 months

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i wonder if you can write something with sapnap having a really talkative gf who interacts a lot with his chat, but he kinda gets jealous bc his chat is always ´hitting on his gf' for fun, so idk maybe you could write something about how he would react to this on stream !!

this ask has been sitting in my inbox for so long 😭😭 im sorry!! again, im gonna assume this is nonstreamer!reader. and i dont think he would be seriously "jealous" of chat so i wrote it more jokey. he knows you only want him 😌

anyway, enjoy! or dont.... :) m.list

you two were sitting in nicks purple lit office, telling his chat about your day. he wanted to stream but also to spend time with you.

"and when we got back from lunch, we just took a nap," you laughed, looking at the chat. if someone started watching the stream on a whim, they would have assumed it was your stream.

as chats flew by, one caught both of your attention: 'id want to take a nap with yn any day ;)'

you scoffed and giggled, looking over at nick. he shook his head as he smiled at the chat.

"so, when i woke up, i realized nick woke up before me. and left me there!!" you said with a pout before you turned to glare at your boyfriend. "and i told you to wake me up when you woke up!"

"baby, i didnt want to wake you up," he said sympathetically. "you looked like you needed it." you pursed your lips and looked back at the chat.

'i would never leave yn like that smh' you read out loud. nick looks at the camera with a deadpan before looking at you with the same face.

"yn, you would have gone back to sleep," he said, trying to be reasonable. he smiled at you before realizing why this topic came up.

'he should have gone back to sleep with you' you read aloud again. "exactly!" you added, satisfied that chat was backing you up.

'i would have cuddled her 😌'

"guys, im right here! stop hitting on her," he said in playful exasperation. you laughed and leaned your head on his shoulder. he pouted and turned his head away from you.

"dont worry, nick, i still love you," you say with a smile flashed towards the camera. you kean in and plant a small kiss on his neck.

he turns back to look down at you on his shoulder. you pulled back and grinned at him. he rolled his eyes and gave you a peck on the lips.

he turned to the camera, "see, shes mine!"

its short. kinda cute. i dunno, i liked it. if you didnt... my bad? anyway. hope you enjoyed! ive seen all the other asks, believe me. im just working with the detailed asks for now cause those feel more demanding 😭😭😭

so, im sorry if you think im ignoreing your asks, im not! im just really bad at writing 😭 -Nony

#sapnap #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap x y/n #sapnap x streamer reader #dteam #streams

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littlemissthunderstorms · 10 months

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gorgeous

alex turner x fem reader

i don’t really know how to summarize it, so just read and find out!! it’ll be a fun little surprise! (also i quoted a line from better than the movies in here, i just finished that book and i LOVED it so dearly)

i couldn’t choose just one song 😣

late afternoon was dull. rain poured outside and the sky was grey, adding to the melancholy of the day. as you sit on the couch next to your best friend alex, you couldn’t help but stare at the rain pattering against the window, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts. you had just recently broken up with your boyfriend, you realized he wasn’t the one and it made you sad. it was easy to let your thoughts spiral, you wondered if you’d ever find your person, if anyone would ever love you that much. could you be loved? you didn’t want to be lonely forever and then become an old lady living alone with her fifty cats in an old apartment. would you die alone? oh my god and then who would even take care of the cats? would anyone even know you died? what if- “ahem.” you jumped slightly, raising your eyebrows at alex who was looking at you with a funny expression, accompanied by a head tilt.

“soo movie or no?” alex chuckled. “you ruined my train of thought.” you smiled as you kicked him playfully. alex had always been your best friend, you had always been there for eachother and this was no different. he’d been hanging out at your house practically the second your boyfriend had moved out and you didn’t mind at all. alex laughed softly, brown eyes not leaving yours. as you gazed at the boy, your smile faded into a frown, your earlier thoughts returning to haunt you. alex noticed this, furrowing his brows. “you alright?” you hadn’t really allowed yourself to overthink too much since your boyfriend left, and now that you had really thought about being alone, it destroyed you. anxiety plagued you, filling you only with distress and thoughts of loneliness.

“i dunno.” you shifted your gaze to your lap, fiddling with your rings. “you wanna talk about it?” alex shuffled closer to you on the couch. you shrugged, eyes still fixated on your lap, averting his gaze. “is it about him?” you noticed how close alex was, causing your heart to race a little faster. “um- no.” you paused. “well, yes, related. i mean, it’s not exactly about him, like the fact that i miss him or anything. which i dont. not really. that seems kinda mean, but it’s true.”

you looked up at alex nervously to find him looking back at you, silently urging you to continue talking. “its just- i’m nervous i’ll never find anyone. sounds fucking stupid now that i’m saying it aloud but um..” you gulped nervously. alex eyes were soft and caring and the effect he had on you right now was concerning. nevertheless, you continued.“i’m scared to be alone forever, i just want to love someone and be loved. and i’m so scared thats not going to happen and i’m scared nobody will ever find me pretty enough to love me. i dont know.” you weren’t even thinking now, the storm of anxiety that occupied your mind now letting loose. “i’m just nervous i guess. i dunno, its silly.” you sighed “maybe i’m just overthinking.”

you kept your gaze on your lap as you finished your rant, too flustered to look at alex. he was close. really close. why was your stomach all swirly? the thunder outside filled the silence for a few moments. alex grabbed your hand, causing you to meet his eyes. “hey. don’t think like that. you’re gorgeous.” the way alex was talking to you, the way he was looking at you, soft brown eyes shimmering in the candlelight, all smiley and sweet. it was getting hard to breathe. you were so distracted by him that you forgot to respond. “thank you.” you muttered pathetically, making him chuckle softly, hand not leaving yours. the house was quiet besides the muffled sound of thunder and rain from the nasty storm outside that was getting more intense by the minute. candles and lamps emitted a soft glow throughout the room, casting faint shadows on the walls.

the way he was looking at you made your heart flutter. your eyes darted down to his lips for a split second before quickly looking back up at his eyes. shit. don’t look at his lips don’t look at his lips. the tension was so thick you were sure lightning was bound to strike between you two any second. the house was too quiet. was he getting closer? you nervously broke eye contact for a split second, your stomach fluttering as you looked back at him. he didn’t move, eyes still locked on yours. your face heated. “um- so what movie did you wanna wat-“you didn’t even finish your sentence before his lips were all over yours, nose pressed into your cheek and hand cupping your face. he kissed you like it was his job and he wanted a raise. you eagerly kissed him back, squeezing his hand tightly as you brought your other hand up to rest on his shoulder. he leaned over you, gently pressing you against the arm of the couch as he kissed the shit out of you. you brought your free hand to grab ahold of his hair, deepening the kiss which elicited a sigh out of him.

the intensity of the kiss increased as a strike of lightning illuminated the sky for a few moments, a loud boom of thunder following, rumbling the ground. you pushed your hand up his shirt, his skin warm. his tongue slid across yours. his hands were in your hair. your leg was wrapped around his waist as the kiss deepened, teeth colliding and soft sighs filling the air. another rumble of thunder shook the ground and just like that, the lights were out. you broke the kiss, the two of you gasping for air. the room was dark, almost pitch black.

and if it weren’t for the soft light of the streetlamps, the glow of the candle in the other room, or the incandescent moonlight, you might’ve not been able to see alex smiling down at you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

hope this made you giggle and kick your feet, goodnight!

ps. this is like my third time writing anything ever so if it’s bad don’t come for me

#Spotify #alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #humbug #suck it and see #alex turner one shot #alex turner fluff

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

remus lupin x animagus!reader

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢, 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

summary: remus wants nothing more than to be selfish and let himself love you, but hearing the whispered threats behind your back reminds him why he can’t.

notes: remus being cute asf and then horny asf, biiiig time slut shaming -> sorry it’s taken me so long to update it’s late at night and this is kinda shit but i’m not sure when the next time i’ll be free from school is

w/c: 4.0k

･ﾟ⋆☾*･ﾟ.・。.*゜✭・･ﾟ✫・⋆。.

you know that my train could take you home anywhere else is hollow

remus lupin was not a selfish man. or at least, he tried not to be. but waking up to an angel curled into his chest—her breaths steady and warm against his collarbone, as if she’d completely entrusted him with her safety—made his morals weaken.

remus, who’d always had difficulty sleeping, had woken up before any of the other gryffindors. the common room was undisturbed, exactly as it looked last night. there was the wrinkle in the carpet where you’d tripped, the bar of chocolate he’d pulled from his secret stache still laid unwrapped and half-eaten on the coffee table, and somehow, there were articles of clothing scattered-

oh shit.

you began to stir. “remus?” you mumbled, nuzzling your face further into his chest to block out the early morning sunlight. “what time is it?”

“i dunno, bun. i can’t see the clock from here and i- i didn’t wanna move you.” because this is the only time i get to admire you, really appreciate you, without you looking away.

“ah, i’m sorry about that,” you forced through a yawn, “i’ll get off you, sorry.” you wiggled your toes, then began to curl your legs, mustering up the discipline to push yourself out from the warmth of the blanket into the quiet chill.

“no, wait!” remus blurted. his arm reached out of its own accord, wrapping behind your torso and holding you to his chest so that you couldn’t leave.

the two of you lay in comfortable silence for a moment. remus’ heart was pounding, and he only hoped you couldn’t feel it despite being pressed up against him. he couldn’t feel your heartbeat.

“so… you want me to stay?” you smiled into his shirt. he’d given you his jumper last night, leaving him in a thin cotton tee—thin enough to feel your breath on his skin, your lips on his chest, and your hands roving the planes of his body. he felt vulnerable, practically naked under your piercing presence, but the one thing that the shirt could do was hide his scars; for that, he was grateful.

“yes, actually,” remus conceded. “i like being heere with you. with you… in my arms.”

your breath hitched; remus could feel the absence of your steady, warm air and he shivered.

“i like being here too. i like it when you hold me, remus. it makes me feel safe.”

how ironic. i’m probably the most dangerous thing in your life; i could kill you in mere seconds. but i’m the one who makes you feel safe.

“don’t say that, rem,” you scolded sleepily, sighing through your words. “you’re not dangerous. not to me.”

remus must’ve voiced his thoughts aloud.

you shifted in his arms, tilting your chin up and pulling his down so you could look into his eyes. both your hands rested on his pecs, one on each, and remus knew you could feel his heart undoubtedly. he tried to steady his breaths and slow his racing pulse.

“remus,” you said seriously. “remus, i know you would never hurt me. it’s been what, four or five years? you’ve not hurt me once, ‘cept for the time i tripped over your satchel in the middle of your room and got rugburn.” both of you laughed quietly, and when you spoke again, your voice was timider than before. “there is nothing dangerous about you. the only danger is- is how much i would do for you. how far i’d go.”

remus squeezed his eyes together and resisted the urge to take his arm off you; to shove you off the couch, to scream at you and tell you to leave and never come back. he knew that was the right, moral thing to do; he’d been doing it for years and to stop now would be to ruin all his progress.

but you were a bad influence. a potent drug. with each glance, you made his heart palpitate. a single smile could send him spiraling. he couldn’t focus or think or even live when you were around. remus couldn’t live his stupid fucking life when you were near him, because you made him want to be selfish and want to live a new life—one with you in it.

remus swallowed. you could feel his eyes follow his adam’s apple as it bobbed distinctly. he sighed. “y/n, i- fuck, i need to tell you someth-”

“oh my godric-” lily screeched, eyes widening at the same time her mouth dropped in shock. she rubbed her hands over her face to double-check her vision. her first image had not been mistaken.

the two of you realized how compromising your situation appeared. there were clothes strewn across the common room; your stuffy dress clothes were thrown over a couch, your shoes abandoned by the leg of a chair. a half-clothed remus was holding you, preserving your modesty with only his jumper, beneath a shared blanket in the middle of an abandoned room.

“oh my godric!” you repeated, sitting up abruptly. lily’s hands flew over her eyes.

“are you wearing clothes?” she gasped, turning away from the unexpected sight of two of her best friends in the middle of questionably platonic activities.

“yes!” you and remus both exclaimed. remus pushed the blanket off himself completely and shot to his feet, extending a hand and pulling you up to stand next to him.

a louder voice sounded. “it is eight thirty in the morning, who in merlin’s name is screaming- oh my godric!” james yelped, nearly jumping back in what could only be described as a mixture of pride and disbelief.

“is that-” sirius’ head poked out from the boys’ dorm, “godric, is that little moony and thumper? ha! i never thought he had it in him.”

“can you all stop saying ‘godric?’” you groaned, patting your head to tame your bedhead. “whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. i was—still am—pissed at james, and that’s it. so, go away please.”

marlene stepped out from the girls dormitory, still pajama-clad and hazy, before her eyes bulged at the sight of her two friends. lily shushed marlene before she could make another aggravating comment.

you looked up at remus. “thanks for keeping me company last night. should we, like, get breakfast or something?”

it was evident you didn’t know what to say, and remus didn’t blame you. what did people normally say the morning after sleeping (in the most innocent sense) with their best friend and the person they were hopelessly in love with, after one member of the party had a horrible blowout with a mutual friend, only to be caught by said mutual friend who made a very incorrect assumption (that both parties would not object to if it were the truth)?

“yes.” remus nodded. “yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

breakfast was equally—if not more—uncomfortable than being caught by your friends. you and remus sat next to each other, and remus couldn’t help thinking that james, sirius, and peter had something to do with the very specific seating that day. the conversation between you and remus was unusually sparse; remus spent most of his energy covering his toast in chocolate spread and sneaking scathing glances at james, whose eyes were fixed on you guilitly.

the great hall began filling with hungry students, each traveling in huddles from their respective houses. the slytherins, who were almost always in a clique, seemed sparser. you didn’t bother identifying who. all that mattered to you was the fact that snape was not among them, meaning he could’ve been anywhere doing any sort of business. if he even needed to keep it a secret from the slytherins, it must’ve been truly devious.

remus watched as the piece of toast you’d been eating froze midair, halfway to your mouth. your chewing slowed, and it seemed as if you were scouring your mind with great concentration. your brows were furrowed in distress, and even james took notice.

“thumper, y’all’right?” he said thickly with his mouth full.

“that’s disgusting, james.” marlene whacked his arm. “you’re a damn toddler.”

you looked from james to marlene to remus nervously. your nose twitched, and remus was reminded of the way you’d looked last full moon, all curled up to a werewolf with complete trust.

“yeah, m’alright. actually-” you inhaled sharply. “remmy- moony, could i speak to you for a moment? um, privately?”

remus nodded, offering his hand for the second time that morning and escorting you out the great hall to find somewhere quieter. sirius wolf-whistled, mind clearly jumping to a different scenario that remus glared at him for. peter waggled his eyebrows at lily, who whispered conspiratorially to mary.

you found a secluded corner at the end of a corridor and you pulled remus closer as you pressed your back against the wall. you glanced around anxiously, inspecting for secret eyes or curious ears.

“what did you want to talk about?” remus shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly very aware of how close he was to you—again.

you looked up at him, beginning to crack your knuckles until remus took both your hands in his own and held them steady. you seemed flighty, but when he met your eye, you were staring with impassioned intensity.

“i-” you started, before shaking your head. you huffed, sniffing softly. remus wondered if you were crying.

“i have to tell you something.” your voice trembled. “i found- well, i- remember that potions class when snape and i were partners? after slughorn finished talking to us, he lingered really close to me and-”

remus’ hands tightened around yours.

“-and he bumped into me and dropped a book. and i think- remus, i think he knows about you,” you breathed, words catching in your throat as you audibly gulped. “and i don’t know what to do, rem; i’m so sorry. he came up to me at slughorn’s party, and i didn’t know what to do… that’s why i was so upset, and i know it’s stupid but merlin, i just want you to be okay, remmy, i-” you gasped. “i’m so scared.”

“so this was what last night was about?” remus spoke slowly, eyes narrowing as he began to put the pieces together. “snape threatened you, and then prongs yelled at you? and you’re still worried about me…” remus breathed shakily.

you squeezed your eyes together, hanging your head like you were ashamed. remus’ heart clenched.

“no, don’t do that,” he begged. “please, come back to me.” he coaxed your chin upward with a soft, grazing hand. you were blinking rapidly, eyes glassy and shrouded in worry. remus’ hand, which was holding one of yours, slipped from your fingers and trailed up your arm, creeping from your shoulder to the curve of your jaw and cheek.

“i’m so sorry,” remus whispered. “i should’ve been there. you should’ve never had to- fuck, come here.” his other arm wrapped around the nape of your neck and you willingly walked into his embrace. you turned your head so your ear was touching his chest, and you could feel the vibrations as he spoke.

“you’re so brave, my love. my brave girl,” he muttered. “my sweet, sweet girl. pretty bunny.” remus wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself.

you sniffed into his robes, squeezing a hand between you and his body to swipe at your nose messily. “okay, i’m all good now,” you decided, pushing yourself from his arms which were reluctant to let you go. you chuckled wetly, dabbing your eyes with your sleeves. “i really ought to stop clinging onto you every time something goes wrong, huh?”

“love, you know you can come to me for anything. i- i want to be the one you go to when something goes wrong,” remus confessed.

“thanks, rem. i guess i just feel-”

“-that mudblood girl.” a bitter voice echoed through the stone corridor.

“still hanging around with the blood traitors, is she? it’s such a shame she’s a mudblood… she’s awfully nice-looking.”

a female voice laughed bitterly. “are you kidding me? nice looking?”

“yes?” the male voice questioned. “either she’s good-looking or just a fucking slut, ‘cause i hear she’s shagging half of gryffindor house.”

“i don’t know about half, but she’s for sure whoring around with potter and his lot. d’you think she lets that pettigrew bloke get in on it?” another female voice snorted. “y’think she can take ‘em all at once?”

“i can see why they keep her around,” a voice that sounded like snape’s could be heard. “she and the half-blood are always together. must make them feel more like men to protect such pathetic creatures.”

the slytherins guffawed, voices fading into silence as they passed the corridor you and remus were standing in.

your eyes were glazed and your lashes were fluttering so quickly that remus thought you might pass out right there. he moved to hold his arms out in preparation to catch you if you fell, but found his arms rooted stubbornly at his sides. his hands, which were scarred from years of transformations, were clenched into fists with such malice that he suspected his fingernails may have pierced through the flesh of his palms. he was trembling in fury, unlike you, who seemed to have left the present.

“we need to go,” remus hissed, shaking your shoulder with urgency. there was too much fear, too much terror for any coddling or kindness. “c’mon, don’t just stand there! we have to go.”

you blinked from your stupor, and began walking briskly in the direction of the gryffindor common room. remus called your name, but you didn’t answer. you only wrapped your arms around your waist and squeezed yourself tighter, picking up speed.

remus’ head swiveled between your retreating figure and the great hall, where your friends were still eating, unaware of all the information remus had just learned. he couldn’t process all this by himself, he knew, and so he ran to the other marauders, heart pounding in his ears.

“i think you should stop walking to classes by yourself,” remus said stiffly. it had been two days and you still hadn’t talked about what you’d heard the slytherins say.

james turned his head to look at you. you were lying all spread out on james’ comforter, with him right beside you. though you’d been spending more time with the marauders recently, you were still isolating yourself from everybody. you’d began eating less, speaking less frequently, and keeping your eyes permanently fixed on your feet. however, you’d made up with james, which was the single positive thing from the past few days.

you didn’t acknowledge remus’ words; instead, closed your eyes and turned to james, pressing your forehead to his shoulder in defeat. james could feel the frustration in the way your eyebrows wrinkled.

“thumper, are you hearing us?” sirius, who was standing by remus and patting his back reassuringly, looked over at you and james.

“yes,” you grumbled. “i’m just choosing to ignore you.”

“c’mon, thumper,” peter tutted. “we’re worried about you, that’s all.”

“yeah, well i’m worried about prongs’ big fat ego, but i’m not bothering him about that, am i now?”

james feighned offense. “hey, don’t forget who’s comforting you right now!”

you patted james’ head. “sorry, jaime. i didn’t mean it,” you deadpanned.

remus scratched his neck, sighing quietly to himself. he was sick of patience and cautious suggestions, only for all his efforts to be shut down.

“alright, that’s enough. you’re walking me to class, y’hear me? starting tomorrow, bunny is gonna protect me from the scaries. there’s lots of ‘em these days.” remus poked your side, which made you coil up and giggle. “aha, there’s my girl!”

you rolled over and rolled your eyes at remus. “sure, rem. i’ll walk you around the castle. but only if i get chocolates.”

remus shrugged. “that’s fine by me.”

james raised his eyebrows at peter. remus never shared his chocolate. not with anyone, ever.

“that’s enough, lovebirds,” sirius sang. neither of you bothered correcting him. “i’m bored of all the ushy-gushy stuff. let’s go put fire ants in the slytherin common room, or something.”

remus shot sirius a scathing look. sirius shrunk. he’d forgotten about what remus had told the marauders; the horrible things the slytherins had said about you and how snape had accosted you and threatened remus.

“or…” sirius deflected, “we could raid the kitchens for biscuits and hot chocolate?”

“sure,” you resigned, pushing yourself from james’ bed. “i guess i should practice my private bodyguard abilities at least once before monday. y’coming, rem?”

“rem,” james mouthed, miming lovesickness at peter, who choked back a laugh. “yeah, we’re in,” james said.

you had insisted on the invisibility cloak. blood supremacists had begun revealing themselves, talking loudly about their ideals and plans; the hallways had quieted considerably after that. even lily, who was stubbornly forthcoming and proud of her muggle heritage, had taken to studying in the common room rather than the library. the threat of war had finally seemed to set in. now, it felt real.

despite the empty corridors and the proximity to the friendly hufflepuff common room, remus felt like there were eyes trained on him at all times. oh, how desperately he wished he could be ignorant and selfish again. he wished he could be back on that couch with you, spilling his feelings before he could take them back, perhaps kissing you—not crouched under a veil, terrified for your safety, but also scared that he’d make you a secondhand target against those watching him.

the house elves welcomed you with more fervor than usual. they were familiar to your presences, but their recent mistreatment by haughty purebloods (from all houses) had made your respectful requests seem like angelic voices.

remus smiled unsubtly as he watched you nibble on a pastry from the corner of his eye. you caught him after mere seconds, smirking at the way he blushed and looked away as he tried to busy himself.

“hey rem,” you simpered, dragging your finger along his jawline with exaggerated seductiveness. “want chocolate?”

remus barely acknowledged the chocolate. he only had eyes for you. he seemed to purr as your fingers continued to brush over the peach hairs on his face. “always.”

you broke off a square of the chocolate, holding it in the air. remus was confused at first, but then smiled fondly. he opened his mouth, and you placed the chocolate on his tongue. he could understand why you’d done this the night he’d slept with you in the common room. it was strangely intimate; but most importantly, comforting. it was like surrendering yourself to somebody you trusted would take care of you. remus hadn’t felt like that in years.

he let the chocolate melt on his tongue, feeling its richness travel down his throat. it felt almost sensual, and he blushed, unable to meet your eye without thoughts of lips and throats and luxurious touches flashing through his mind.

james coughed. “we good, lads?” he held up his arms, carrying a basket of sweets and baked goods that the house elves had nimbly assembled for them.

“yeah- yeah!” you choked, shaking yourself from your stupor. you sucked the residual chocolate from your fingers, wiping the spit onto the sleeve of your robe. it wasn’t very sanitary nor attractive, but remus swore he was going to have an aneurysm on the spot.

“coming!” remus called, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of impure thoughts before trailing his friends as they clambered out of the kitchen entrance.

the five of you hid under the invisibility cloak and shuffled back in the direction of the gryffindor common room. you weren’t very cautious this time around, feeling elated from your successful haul and less concerned about total concealment. the four boys, who had once been 11 and 12, had become five young adults, many of whom were unusually tall. if you weren’t being careful (which you weren’t), the cloak would raise up to your ankles, exposing your shoes.

“-promise you, there’s something wrong with him.” snape’s voice, dripping with malice, trailed down the bright hufflepuff corridor, immediately dimming the mood.

“there’s something wrong with all of them, snape,” bellatrix’s voice dismissed, “they’re filthy blood traitors and mudbloods. repulsive, pathetic scum, the lot of them. that’s what’s wrong.”

“bellatrix, you don’t understand-”

“of couse i dont!” bellatrix’s shrill outburst pierced the soft afternoon air. “you’re always on about your damn conspiracies. it’s a waste of time, and frankly, a burden on the slytherin name. you waste away in the dungeons, too busy to join us for meetings or even wash your disgusting hair-”

the five of you found that part quite humorous.

“-and now you’re on about some werewolf shit just because you hate the damn half-blood for what, getting an O above your E? it’s pathetic, snape. truly pathetic.” bellatrix spat. “the next time i see you better be around the table, or i swear i’ll have a word with my parents.”

none of you had heard snape be spoken to in such a manner. remus broke the silence. “let’s go,” he found himself repeating. “we have to go.”

there was no dissent. the five of you scurried back to your dorms, appetites lost and stomachs twisted into knots. sirius ripped off the cloak, tossing it to the side—which peter promptly rushed to so he could collect the magical fabric—and gaped.

“what the fuck was that?” he huffed, tugging at the roots of his hair. “what the fuck. how does he know? i mean, we knew he knew something, but fuck, he knows.”

you and remus had decided to let the secrets between the five of you loosen out. everyone had been made aware of what happened on the night of slughorn’s party, but neither of you had divulged the contents or meaning of snape’s book. it had been difficult enough for you to share the information with remus—seeing his father’s name scribbled in the margins had torn at your heartstrings—and you didn’t think you could handle seeing the looks on the other marauders’ faces when they found out. remus agreed on withholding that bit of information.

you and remus made eye contact. remus’ face pinched for just a second, only noticable to somebody who was paying attention, and you nodded. wordlessly, you headed for the girls’ dorms, to the protest of james, sirius, and peter. remus calmed them.

“just wait. lovie- i mean, thumper’s got something to show you.”

you returned with your head hung, clutching the worn book with two shaky hands. you’d long brushed off the grime and dust, making the cover and title easily legible to the three unenlightened boys.

sirius was the first to react. “where’d you get this?”

james tore his glasses from his face and rubbed them on his shirt, which he only did in truly dire situations.

“t- this is snape’s?” peter stammered.

remus nodded solemnly. “he’s figured it out, somehow. i mean, i should’ve known better. i got careless… snape’s not stupid. he’s really not,” remus babbled, “and now i’ve put y/n in danger and d’you hear what he’s been calling the rest of you? i’ve put a target on all of our backs; all of your backs.

“i get it now,” remus breathed, looking over at you. “i get it. when you said you didn’t know what to do. i get it now.”

you watched as tears beaded in the corners of remus’ eyes and how be looked away, pulling a move you were all too familiar with. “don’t run from me, remus,” you called, reaching out for him. “don’t hide your feelings from me. don’t pretend like you’re not. i would know, i’m real experienced and all,” you joked banefully.

he turned back to you, though his large hands remained covered over his face. you put your hands on top of his and pushed through his barrier of fingers to peer into his eyes. he let you push through without resistance, and when his face was finally revealed to you, he immediately tucked his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“i’m scared,” he croaked. “i’m really scared, bunny.”

taglist: (strikethrough means i can't tag you; see here for taglist rules)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87 @yourallihave @cowboibeepbeep @liszblog @springflwer07 @getawayfrommewerewolf @soumya-13 @valqarh @valvlry @theghostofshadows @losa12308 @darkenwolfie @bookishlover13.@lonniepoo @fromcabin13 @emmaev @urgrandadsashes @girl-ln-green @vilentia @bibli0thecary @khayhuij @summer-noir @ggfamert @jack1n @siriuslydestiny @fluffybunnyu @thegirlwhohides @woodyrubster @swimmingunknowntimetravel @viridescense @rosaliesrealwife @arisarise

#wherever you stray i follow #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader series #remus lupin x animagus!reader #remus x reader fluff #remus lupin angst

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sungbeam · 2 years

Note

Hi I wanted to request a fanfic....

A Kim mingyu x reader

Secret baby and non idol au

Angst with a happy ending

Could include prompts Nos. 67 & 61

Is that too much?

𝗻𝗲𝘄

nonidol!kim mingyu x fem!reader

1.9k words, secret baby au, angst w/a happy ending!, minghao kinda throws u under the bus skfndkd

a/n: hi anonie!! tysm for sending in a request, and it was not too much so dw ^_^ i do like some specificity sometimes, and i did enjoy writing this!

There were a few things that your friend Minghao was good at. One of them, it seemed, was dragging you to social outings that neither of you wanted to be present for. He had even found you a babysitter for your precious little one. Baby Yeona was only around eighteen months old, but Minghao insisted she was capable of taking care of herself.

Clearly, he was no father. And he would definitely not be watching over Yeona for a while.

Nonetheless, here you were, climbing out of Minghao's pretty, little gold Lexus while you wore the first set of nice clothes in a long time. You stared up at the sky-high facade of the luxury downtown hotel as you and Hao made your way toward the entrance.

"I dunno," you voiced aloud. You were uncertain what you were trying to say, and you were uncertain as to whether or not you wanted to step foot in this building.

Minghao rolled his eyes and took you by the bicep to help you up the steps. "Oh, come on. You're here, and I already paid the sitter. Let loose, Yn; it's been two years since you've been to a bar."

"For good reason," you muttered under your breath as you and Minghao caught a slot of the revolving entrance and entered the hotel lobby.

It even smelled obnoxiously rich in here, you realized with an ill-concealed grimace. All the gold and marble glistening under bright LEDs made your head hurt. Jesus, maybe you did need a drink.

Like he read your mind, Minghao directed you to the bar just to your right. It was, fortunately, dimly lit, with red velvet floors and walls panelled in smooth, dark wood. You already recognized several familiar faces—this was a reunion of your old uni friends, after all.

"Oh my god, YN!" Seokmin exclaimed from the pool table, before abandoning his pool stick and racing over to you.

Junhui was right on your tail, coming up to greet Hao warmly while Seokmin bombarded you in a massive hug.

"How's Yeona?" Seokmin asked. He grinned at you, hand between your shoulder blades to guide you over to the bar. "She's almost at Terrible Twos, isn't she?" He teased, wagging his eyebrows up and down.

You laughed with a shake of your head. Seokmin ordered you a light margarita, considering you probably hadn't had a proper drink in ages. "Almost. She's eighteen months right now, so probably in about six months or so. I am not ready for my angel to turn into the devil."

There were only a few people who knew of your daughter's existence. It hadn't been your plan to have her, but some things you could not control completely. It had happened on the night of your college graduation party, and you had finally taken your shot at a certain young man who had plagued your dreams for almost half of your years at university. He was a friend of a friend, but nearly everyone knew who he was, considering his attractive looks and personality and… suffice to say that you fell in the deep end.

No, the father did not know. And you would be damned if he ever—

"Yn?"

You almost spat out your drink, and Seokmin, with panicky eyes, patted your back to help you get out the feel of the burn down your throat and windpipe. God, that stung. But maybe not as badly as how good he looked.

Him being Kim Mingyu. Yeah, the father of your child. And he didn't seem to have changed a bit since you last saw him: black hair tamed well, broad and toned body fitted in semi formal wear (delectable), and that charming smile that knocked down all your defenses. At least… a few of them.

He walked up to you and Seokmin with a look of pleasant surprise and utter disbelief stark on his face. "Oh my god—you're really here? I haven't seen you in so long."

Yeah, you wanted to say, but you couldn't really focus on anything but the sound of your pulsing heartbeat in your ears and the smell of his cologne invading your nostrils as you hugged him. Oh, good god. He feels and smells so good—

When you pulled away, Mingyu was giving Seokmin that weird handshake the boys had (you never asked questions). He still couldn't seem to believe his ears.

"I—I mean," he stammered, eyes flickering from you to your blouse to you to your lips to you, "you look—" he swallowed, "—really good." He cleared his throat, and you could've sworn you heard Seokmin sneak out a giggle.

You yourself sat perched on your barstool unnaturally stiff. If you could just make it through this conversation… "Thank you," you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You look good, too."

There was this moment where neither of you could really get any words out. It hadn't exactly been this way years ago, but you could remember the shy glances mixed with the flirty advances. You knew you harbored that flame for him somewhere, and perhaps you had kept it buried beneath your love and responsibilities toward your daughter.

Seokmin cut in, "Cool! Uh…" he sipped his drink, brows furrowing, "want a drink, Gyu? Did you come with Wonwoo?"

Mingyu snapped out of his daze, coughing. "Ah, right. Yeah, that'd be great, thanks. And yep, he should be somewhere around—oh yeah. There he is, by Woozi hyung."

While Seokmin flagged the bartender down, Mingyu returned his attention to you. "So, uhm, I feel like I haven't seen you in, like, two or three years. I… How've you been?" Why didn't you stay in touch? Had he done something wrong? He wanted to ask. He'd been sitting on those questions and worries for so long, and no one would give him a straight answer about your whereabouts.

"I've been good," you answered. And it was true, you couldn't have been happier with Yeona. It had been scary, no doubt, at first. But it had all turned out good and fine, and your close friends had been by your side the entire time. "Just trying to settle back—settle into work and adult things," you chuckled. "How about you? Did you finally decide to get yourself into culinary school?"

Another giggle from Seokmin that the two of you decidedly ignored.

Mingyu could best be described with heart eyes. "You remembered? That was a fleeting conversation—"

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "But I mean, it was important to you, so of course, I remembered."

He smiled, bashfully, head ducked and cheeks reddening. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did get into a culinary school—"

"And, hey! Great idea: Mingyu should teach you how to cook, Yn!" Minghao's voice cut clean into the conversation as the man himself inserted himself into the little circle. Seokmin passed Mingyu his drink, and Minghao made pointed eyes at you from across the circle, gesturing silently at the man who was your baby daddy.

Oh for the love of God, Xu Minghao. "I don't think that's really necessary."

"Suuuure, it is!" Minghao said, high pitched. He nodded his head again to Mingyu. "Yn has been meaning to learn some new recipes for her family anyway. Right, Yn?"

You glared at Minghao, and if the sun could be channeled through the eyes, you would use them to burn him alive right where he stood. I am going to murder you! You mouthed to him, over enunciating the words. So this was why he wanted you to be here tonight. Seokmin smartly chose this moment to go say hello to Joshua.

Mingyu creased his brows. "Oh, er, I didn't know you had a family already, Yn." There was a definitive drop in energy present in his voice. "Are you married?"

If you hadn't been so worried about deciding on how to tell him about his secret child, you would have noticed Mingyu unsubtly searching your hands for a ring. You were not wearing one.

You swallowed, setting the margarita glass on the bar counter. You saw Minghao back away slowly from the corner of your eye, and Mingyu took Seokmin's old seat. "Ah, I'm not. I just…" have a child, and she's yours, and I've been craving a person to be my partner in this… and maybe I still love you, but I don't know how to tell you. Please don't hate me.

Mingyu ducked his head just slightly so he met your eyes. "Hey, you don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable. I don't know what Minghao was trying to say back there, but you really don't have to say anything."

"No, it's okay," you said quickly with a shake of your head. "I… I really should tell you about… my daughter. Our daughter." You tried to gauge his reaction, but his expression was carefully blank at this moment.

A crease formed between his brows. "I'm sorry, did you just say our daughter?"

"Uhm, yes," you laughed nervously.

"Holy shit—"

"I know—"

Mingyu flagged the bartender. "I am way too sober for this." He suddenly thought better and waved the bartender away with an apology. "Wait, how—how long? Yn, I had a kid this whole time? I have a kid with you?"

You nodded, rubbing your arm. "Yeah. It happened on graduation night. Y'know, when we…"

He pursed his lips. "Yeah, that makes sense." He stared at a random mark on the bar counter.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Mingyu," you said softly. You feared what he would think of you, scared he would still yell at you and reject you. That had probably been your greatest deterrent from telling him—that he would be disgusted with you and your child and turn you away. You just thought it would be better to avoid all of that heartache in full. Even if it meant hiding it all from him.

"You were probably scared," he replied lowly, "I get it." He roughed a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. "You've been taking care of her by yourself this whole time? I just—I just wish you would have told me. We could have figured this out together."

He was looking at you now, reaching for your hands to cradle them in his own big palms. You wondered how you ever lived without this warmth.

You gulped. "You had dreams, Mingyu. I didn't want us to be a burden—"

He scoffed, the noise so indignant and offended. "I'm just wondering what I did to make you think I would ever think you and my own daughter would be a burden to me. It might stall our plans, but it would only stall, Yn. You and…"

"Yeona," you stammered, "her name's Yeona."

Mingyu stopped and a smile slowly tugged at his lips. His eyes shone into the dim light of the bar, and his fingers linked with yours. "Yeona? She already sounds beautiful. Like her mother."

You felt like crying. Years of wondering and what ifs, and it could have all been solved with a conversation. "Do you want to meet her?"

His smile widened. "Do I? How's that even a question, darling?"

You laughed under your breath. "Okay," you nodded to yourself, "okay."

It was then that you realized just how badly you had needed this—this night, this conversation, this hope. Yeona had brought you up, but Mingyu was going to bring you all together. And as the two of you talked and laughed long into the night, neither of you could wait for when your two loves would be able to finally meet each other.

a/n: oh good god i think i liked that ending way more than i intended (not the ending paragraph, i think that was pretty gross, but the happy conclusion ig)

svt m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @staysstrays @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @yedammi @rnjfy @jaehunny1428 @mythicalamphitrite @ana-is-losing-her-mind @super-btstrash-posts @otchae @luv4vernon @ashxxkook @thesunsfullmoon @parkjusing

#seventeen x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #caratwritersclub #seventeen oneshot #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #mingyu oneshot #mingyu angst #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Ranulf x reader

Prompt: Day of devotion cuteness with an added twist of mixed up traditions!

Description: Having only recently got together with Ranulf, you’re more then a little nervous to celebrate the day of Devotion with him. Ranulf, however, is more than happy to share in traditions with you, even if they aren’t necessarily for the right holiday...

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: Nothing really, it’s a pretty cute fic in my opinion

Word Count: 1540

Notes: This is a commission for anon! It was such a cute idea and I’m sorry it took me so long to get to writing it. Between work and getting back on lexapro, writing has been kinda difficult... until I got sick for a week and found some time sdlkfjdlkfj

________________________________________________

You fiddle with the material of your clothing, pulling the long material and watching as it slowly gathers again at your feet. It was once again the Day of Devotion but… this year, you had someone to celebrate with. The thought made you as happy as it did nervous.

“Boo!” You jump as a voice startles you from your thoughts. You turn behind you, finding the grinning face of you partner.

“Ranulf!” You cry, pout on your features. “You scared me, geez.” You let out a smile sigh at his grin.

“Well, tis the season right?” He chuckles softly. “Now, where’s my treat?” He adds, coming in close to you.

“Treat…?” You mumble. “Ranulf, it’s the day of Devotion. Not… the fall festival.” You giggle a little at his confused face for a moment.

“Oh, right right Day of Devotion…” He takes another look at your clothing for the festival, nodding slowly. “This is the one where you exchange gifts with everyone, right?” You nod and smile.

“Yeah, well, sorta…” Before you can go on, he continues.

“Where every hero gets a gift and puts it under a tree right..? Huh I didn’t see any on my way here though…” He looks around confused.

“No, no that’s…” You can’t help and shake your head. “Okay, yes, the Day of Devotion and winter festival both have people exchanging gifts… but it’s a little different.” You smile softly at him. “The Day of Devotion is all about showing those you care for, who you cherish above all else, what they mean to you…” You explain softly, looking at him.

“I dunno… seems like a good excuse to get more gifts to me.” He wonders aloud.

“Well… I did get you something, actually.” You admit softly. Ranulf’s eyes go wide as he looks to you. You pick up an innocent package off the table, one his eyes had just passed over in favor of taking you in instead.

“You did…?” For once, Ranulf is starstruck. The two of you hadn’t even been together for a week, after all. To think you acted so quickly and got him something… “I’m sorry… I don’t have anything for you.” He admits, clutching the box in his hands.

“That’s okay!” You smile brightly, looking into his different colored eyes. “If I’m completely honest… my original plan was to confess to you today.” You smile at him shyly, gaze trailing to the floor as you continue speaking. “I had this gift prepared in advance for you for that plan… but we got together sooner then I anticipated.” You can’t help but giggle, the sound bringing a grin to his handsome features.

“So go ahead and open it!” You insisted, weight shifting from leg to leg. “Just having you with me is gift enough, after all.” You add, laughing a little.

“You’re too cute…” Ranulf shakes his head, but gently pulls the carefully tied pink ribbon from the box. Once the lid is off, and decorative paper is careful placed aside, Ranulf looks inside to see… a garb, very similar to the one you were wearing now. In fact, as he pull’s it from the package to get a proper look at it… it compliments your own quite nicely.

“I hope you don’t think it’s strange I wanted us to match.” You say shyly. “I know a lot of heroes didn’t quite believe it when we got together but…” You move to stand beside him as he holds the green and white garment up to himself. “I don’t think they would be able to kid themselves any longer if we went out like this, huh?” The two of you make quite the pair, dressed like this. The sight is enough to pull Ranulf from his stupor.

“Geez, you really thought ahead huh?” Ranulf chuckles softly, putting the soft material down a moment to instead turn to you. “Your thoughtful gesture kind of puts my silly idea to shame…” He shakes his head softly.

“Silly idea?” You ask softly, looking up at him.

“I’m not dumb, _____, I knew today was the day of Devotion… but I didn’t have a gift, so I got a little creative when thinking of ways to celebrate with you.” He smiles softly at you. “It seems a little silly now when I see the effort you put in, even before we even got together.”

“Well I don’t mind.” You shake your head at him. “Your antics can be…” You pause. “Trying at times… But there part of the reason I adore you.” You grab one of his hands with both of your own. “So… why don’t you try on your gift, and together, we can go do what you prepared for us?” You suggested.

“...I’d like that, actually.” He looks at you with a fondness in his gaze that has a familiar heat growing on your cheeks.

“R-right! Well, I’ll wait outside my room for you so you can get changed!” You quickly leave your room, resting in the little enclave outside it lest your beating heart get the best of you. Still, you can’t help but smile fondly, excited to spend the day with the man you cared for the most.

A few minutes later, Ranulf emerges from your room, decked out in the whites and greens and golds of the clothing you had prepared from him. You can’t help but admire him a moment in silence. He even took off his headband, and you can’t help but smile at the way his hair falls down his face now, revealing his cute ears.

“Left you speechless, huh?” Ranulf has a wide grin on his face as you take him in.

“You kind of, well yeah.” You smile right back at him as words come back to you. “You look very nice, Ranulf.” You swallow thickly as you move in close to him. “Do you like it?” You ask.

“It’s different…” He laughs a little. “But seeing how happy it makes you, it’s definitely worth it.” You beam up at him.

“Can I… would it be okay if I touched you?” You ask suddenly. Ranulf looks to you in surprise.

“Um, yeah?” He answers, more so a question then not.

“Sorry, sorry…” You shake your head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your headband is all… You’re so pretty.” You reach up and brush bright blue hair out of the way of red and green eyes, resting your palm on his cheek after you do so. “I’ve always known that, but taking you all in now… I feel so lucky.” You admit to him, softly smile forming on your features.

“You’re really something else.” Ranulf smiles down at you, one calloused hand moving to rest over your own on his cheek. “You wanna know what that surprise I had in store for you is?” You can see the hint of something silly forming on his lips.

“What was it?” You hum, still holding his cheek in your palm. You wanted to stay like this just a little longer, after all.

“Look above you.” You look up above, and to your surprise you see someone had hung some mistletoe right outside your door.

“Well look at that.” You chuckle softly, blush warming your cheeks at the implications. “I wonder who put that there…” You look to Ranulf, to his boyish grin gentle gaze.

“Yeah, wonder who did that… I ought to thank him…” You can’t help but giggle, even as your tilting your head of opposite of him, and letting your eyes close in sweet bliss.

“Perhaps I should too…” You murmur, before your lips meet his.

It was your first kiss together, something sweet and chaste and yearning that left you wanting more. As you pull away, looking at one another with innocent wonder and amazement in a moment of silence, you again can’t help but think how lucky you are to be with him.

In the next moment, the two of you find one anothers lips again, for another kiss that was a little less innocent and a little more longing. Again, the two of you pull away far too soon.

“Wow,” Is all you can breath out for a moment.

“Wow, is right.” Ranulf laughs out. The two of you still can seem to tear your gazes away from the other, wide eyes barely thinking as you try to remember what you were going to say next.

“Well, um…” You finally catch up with yourself, embarrassment hitting you as you look to the ground. “I think everyone will be expecting us at the festival now.” This time, as you look to Ranulf, it’s with renewed shyness. “Lets go, shall we?” The hand you had used to hold his cheek instead turns and grasps his hand, holding in your own now.

“Right, lets go.” Ranulf smiles at you as the two of you turn to face the festival and all the other heroes.

“Together.” You affirm, giving his hand a little squeeze.

“Yeah… together.” Ranulf does the same and together, the two of you walk to the day of Devotion festival, ready to show not only one another, but everyone else, what love and devotion meant for the two of you.

#ranulf x reader #fire emblem x reader #fe ranulf x reader #Fire Emblem Radiant Dawn #fire emblem path of radiance #feh alfonse #fire emblem heroes

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elizaviento · 1 year

Text

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 12 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated mostly SFW — 3452 words. Just the tiniest bit of dirty talk.

Note: :)

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description. Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

"Hey, man – your girlfriend just walked in," Sam said, rounding the corner as Shane slashed open the top of a cardboard box with his dulling boxcutter.

"What?" Shane pinched his brow as the younger man emerged through the gloom of the back stockroom.

"Yeah, she's talking to Morris, and she looks, I dunno, kinda pissed?"

Shane sighed, unsure if he wanted to address the girlfriend comment or wonder aloud why Morris would be talking to her. He decided on the former.

"She's not my girlfriend," he mumbled, retracting the blade of the boxcutter and shoving it in the back pocket of his uniform shorts. And, technically, she wasn't. At least, not yet. Payday loomed ahead, Friday seeming like years away instead of days, and he planned to buy the biggest, dumbest bouquet he could afford.

"Whatever you say, my man," Sam replied with a chuckle. "Anytime she's ever come here, it's to find you, so…" The younger man shrugged, a lopsided grin finishing the sentence for him. "Want me to go see what they're talking about?"

"No," Shane responded, pushing past Sam to crack the stockroom door just enough to catch sight of Kristen and Morris standing next to Claire's register. The cashier, as usual, stood glassy-eyed and nearly nodding off while the tense conversation unfolded mere feet away. Shane knew that Kristen had a hand in the store manager's transfer to Pelican Town several years prior, but the stance they displayed hinted at something a little more complicated.

"Think he's hitting on her?" Sam asked. Shane figured it was a lousy attempt at a joke, but the insinuation caused his hackles to rise, and he flushed, overwhelmed by an emotion he couldn't quite name but recognized as a mixture of protectiveness and jealousy.

"It's questionable if Morris is even human," Shane replied, eyeing the man as he loomed over Kristen. "I doubt he has the capacity to love anything other than Joja."

Sam snickered as he approached Shane and peered through the crack above his head. "I think she can take him. Wanna bet?"

Shane scoffed but couldn't deny that the mental image of the farmer socking his shitty boss in the jaw almost had him standing at half-mast. But just when he was about to turn down that hypothetical bet, his walkie-talkie crackled to life, startling him enough to slam the stockroom door closed as if he and Sam had been caught witnessing something untoward.

"Shane Davis, you're free to go to lunch. Oh, and you have a guest at the front of the store. Best not keep her waiting."

"She ain't your girlfriend, my ass," Sam laughed, clapping the shorter man on the shoulder. "Damn, can't believe Morris is actually letting you go to lunch, too."

"Yeah," Shane agreed. "Can you finish unpacking these while I'm gone?"

"No problemo, pal."

"For real this time," Shane amended, narrowing his eyes. "Morris will blame me if he comes back here and finds they aren't."

Sam nodded, well aware that their manager seemed to harbor some sort of a grudge against his co-worker. "Yeah, man. Promise."

Shane thanked him and cautiously exited the stockroom, peering left and right as if he would be ambushed by Morris or a bothersome customer at any second. Finding the coast clear, he made his way toward the front, hugging the outside wall until he reached the row of cash registers and cut across them toward Kristen from the side.

Stepping out into the noonday sunshine hand in hand with the farmer felt surreal on a level that Shane had never experienced but also more natural than he could have imagined. Despite his protests that he wasn't ashamed of the townsfolk knowing they were involved, he caught himself scanning the immediate vicinity for wandering eyes and whispering voices. Shame still had nothing to do with his misplaced caution. Well, at least not for himself.

Shifting his eyes to the side as they strolled, Shane attempted to absorb how Kristen's hair shone like fire in the sun and how her freckles darkened ever so slightly. The sway of her hips as she walked, the chiffon of her sundress swishing around her thighs with each step. The red tinge of her lipstick and how it reminded him of lip prints on a shot glass while fat snowflakes coated cobblestones under the moonlight.

"You look really pretty today," he said, glad that the statement sounded as normal as he rehearsed it in his mind.

"Oh… thank you."

She blushed – actually blushed – and Shane was suddenly teleported back to 7th grade, starry-eyed and cooing over the prettiest girl in class. A girl who would ultimately end up his girlfriend but would break his heart weeks later. A girl who would, despite teenage angst, remain his best friend. A girl who would honor that lifelong friendship by making him the godfather of her beloved daughter only months before she died.

When Shane opened the door to the Saloon — holding it open for Kristen so she could enter first — he was relieved that Emily's smiling face was the only one staring back at them. This early in the day, traffic was sparse regardless, but the lack of other patrons meant he could pretend they were all alone.

"Gus is pulling your pizza from the oven now!" Emily said, fetching a couple of glasses from below the bar. "Take a seat, and I'll bring it over soon!"

Kristen made way toward their usual spot, but Shane gently tugged her toward the corner booth instead, heart fluttering when she caught his eye and smirked.

"This is cozy," she remarked, settling in on his opposite side. The plastic bag she'd been carrying crinkled as she sat it beside her, and his imagination soared with what could be inside.

"Uh — yeah," he agreed as Emily approached, sat two glasses of water down in front of them, and left without a word. Shane's eyes briefly followed the waitress until she turned and shot him a knowing wink. "Thanks for ordering the food."

The farmer stared at him for several endless seconds before replying, "Thanks for letting me hold your hand on the walk over here." Her own hand landed on his bare knee under the table, inching slightly upward, nails lightly scraping through his leg hair. Shane flinched reflexively, unprepared and never expecting such a bold move in public. "Last night was so sexy."

Shane's eyes darted toward the bar and then around the remainder of the deserted Saloon, paranoia creeping up his spine like a slithering swamp creature no human had ever laid eyes on. When he found Emily casually slicing their pizza and loading a tray with the pan and plates, he relaxed, if only slightly.

"Kriss."

"Sorry," she said, retreating her hand. Shane found himself regretting such a prudish response when the warm print of her palm cooled almost instantly. He suppressed a shiver even as he noticed the burn again spreading across her cheeks. "I guess something about you makes me feral."

The confession shot a lightning bolt straight to Shane's dick, and he felt it twitch like the fingers of a reanimated corpse in a bad zombie flick. He was momentarily speechless, still astounded that a woman like her could find anything sexy about a guy like him.

"Babe, I'm barely keeping my shit together here," he said, attempting to soothe her silly insecurities. "I'm grateful for the pizza, but uh —" he took another cursory glance at their surroundings, calculating he had just enough time to utter the filth sitting on the tip of his tongue before Emily was in earshot, "— I'd be just as happy eating your pussy for lunch."

"Oh, fuck off," she giggled, covering her face as Emily slid the tray between them.

"One supreme pizza with extra cheese and peppers!" the waitress announced, shattering the sexual tension like she was wielding a sledgehammer.

The remainder of their time in the Saloon was spent with leisurely conversation not unlike what they'd usually shared, interspersed with Kristen bumping his foot under the table playfully, her hand finding its way back to his knee, and the occasional sexually suggestive remark that had Shane feeling slightly delirious. He couldn't recall the last time the buds of a full-fledged relationship had begun to bloom, petals unfurling slowly and then all at once, displaying proudly for all to see. Even while serotonin spiked his brain and giddiness bubbled in his chest, he knew he could just as easily fuck it all up – crush the sprouting bud under his heel and grind it into the dirt without even realizing, akin to stepping on an ant unfortunate enough to cross his path on his routine stroll to work.

"Hmm, you ready to go back?" Kristen asked. Her hand had finally sought his under the table, their fingers interlocked, merged in the invisible void between them.

"Not really. But I'm sure Morris will call me soon if I don't."

"You still coming over after?" she asked, peeking at him from below her lashes. Shane thought she looked so heart-achingly beautiful just then and wondered how he had ever managed to contain himself since he'd laid eyes on her in this very Saloon over two years ago.

"Yeah, babe." He felt breathless, as if his chest would cave in at any second, lungs deflated. He hated wondering what label to assign to her now. Hated wondering what label she'd assigned to him. They were two grown adults; it shouldn't be this complicated, right? All he knew for sure was that if he couldn't latch his mouth to the soft expanse of her inner thighs again soon, he'd implode. "Want me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," she replied, releasing his hand so she could root around in a hidden pocket of her sundress. Shane scrambled when she tossed a wad of crinkled bills on the table, attempting to pull his worn leather wallet from the back of his shorts pocket. "Don't! I told you this was my treat. If you're up for it, you can take me out for a real date this Friday."

"Huh?" He was acutely aware of how moronic he sounded as the word left his mouth, still flustered from feeling like a freeloader.

"Harvey got me an appointment with that surgeon in Zuzu on Friday afternoon. Wanna come with? I'd rather someone drive me than take the bus."

"I have to work, Kriss," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. For some reason, he felt ashamed. A deadbeat stock boy doesn't usually get days off when he has a little mouth to feed.

"You've been full-time at Joja for what, 3 years now? More? You have paid time off, Shane. Knowing Morris, he probably tries to guilt you into never taking it."

"Uh —" he floundered, realizing she was absolutely right and feeling even more imbecilic because of it.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you get this Friday off."

"Kriss, you can't just run in and start fighting my battles," he said, harsher than he'd intended. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes squinted the way they did when she was about to challenge him. "I'll ask him. Whatever you said earlier might still have him ruffled enough to agree."

Her gaze pitched to the side as she wrapped her fingers around a loose curl that had escaped the braid flowing down her back. Unease blanketed Shane like a shroud, all too familiar with her visual cues of distress.

"Fine," she relented, albeit reluctantly. "But if he gives you shit, let me know, Okay? I mean it."

"Morris always gives me shit. Why are you so concerned about it now?"

His tone had shifted to sharp and accusatory while questions swirled in his mind. Why had she left Joja? And what the fuck was up with this sudden feud with Morris? She continuously dodged the subject, and Shane never felt the need to press because it wasn't his business. But now that she insisted on inserting herself in such an invasive manner, he felt he was owed an explanation.

"I'm sorry, you're right," she yielded with a dispirited sigh. "I'm just feeling protective of you, I guess. I don't like the way he treats you."

Shane sucked a ragged breath between his teeth, the hostility slithering between his ribs swarmed away by a kaleidoscope of butterflies pummeling their tissue paper wings against his rapidly beating heart.

"It's alright." He shuffled in the booth, fidgeting while his mind scrambled to come up with something more substantial to say. "I'll put in the time and let you know."

Figuring that was an acceptable middle ground, he stood and motioned for her to follow, boldly taking her hand as soon as she was by his side despite a smattering of townsfolk who had also wandered in for lunch. He was planning to formally ask her to be his on Friday anyway, so fuck it.

❦❧🍓❦❧

"Shane, we have a truck delivery scheduled on Friday. You can't request time off at the last minute," Morris chided as Shane stood on the opposite side of his desk with a PTO request slip in hand.

"I already asked Sam if he'll cover, and he said yes. What's the problem?"

Rolling his eyes, Morris snatched the slip from Shane's hand and scanned it quickly. "You didn't provide a reason for requesting time off. That's required per Joja policy."

"Uh. A friend needs a ride to the city for an appointment. She can't drive right now," Shane answered. Morris' obvious obstinance for the sake of it was already wearing on his patience.

"Ah, I see. Mrs. Jarret?"

"Who?" Shane asked. He was quickly transitioning from irritated to agitated.

"Oh," Morris scoffed, a smug expression replacing stern disappointment. "I guess you don't know your friend so well, after all, hmm? I meant Ms. Wynand."

"Okay…" Shane hedged, wondering where this little display was leading.

"I knew her rather well prior to my transfer. Perhaps she can tell you the tale sometime. Perhaps on Friday. Your time off request has been approved." With an exaggerated flourish, Morris signed his name to the slip, ripped off the carbon copy on the back, and handed it to Shane, a crooked grin splitting his face nearly in two. "Now get back to work."

The remainder of Shane's shift was spent scowling at cans of artificial green beans and bottles of yellow sports drink suspiciously resembling piss. One by one, he shoved them on the shelves, hardly aware of Sam skirting by occasionally with rock music blaring so loud through his headphones that he could be heard from a mile away. By 5 pm, Shane's jaw ached, and his head throbbed from grinding his teeth for hours on end, stewing over the cryptic bullshit hanging between Morris and his would-be girlfriend like a stationary pendulum. One tap and it would swing to and fro, shattering the illusion he'd caught himself in like shards of mirrored glass.

You're doing it again. You're trying to sabotage something good by assuming the worst. It's not like they fucked or something.

Determined not to let his sour mood ruin the rest of his evening, he clocked out, avoiding his co-workers, and briefly considered a stop at the Saloon for one beer. Maybe two.

You really want her to taste alcohol on your tongue when you kiss her? he thought, even as his feet itched to take the familiar path toward the Stardrop. Or would you rather get whiskey dick instead? Yeah, that'll be real fucking smooth…

Admitting to himself that he was, indeed, planning to take Kristen to bed as soon as he walked through the door, he recalculated his trajectory — a straight shot from the footbridge, through town, past the bus stop, and right into her arms.

Having something else to focus on, his previous doomsday broodings fell by the wayside, replaced by an old song he'd mainly heard through the crackling of FM radio as a teenager. The lyrics looped in his mind while visions of a girl with mocha skin and glossy raven hair pressed record on her tape deck, imprinting the song on a cassette tape that Shane would wear out over the years. A memory of that same girl donning a wedding dress, dancing to those lyrics with a handsome man on her arm and Shane smiling from the sidelines. Sometimes… sometimes, it didn't hurt to see them again, if only in his memories. Sometimes remembering them felt like coming home.

Uncharacteristically unburdened when he knocked on the farmer's front door, Shane inserted the key into the knob directly after. He figured Kristen would always chide him for knocking when he could enter at any moment, but that simply felt intrusive.

"Hi," she said, catching him off guard. She was standing just far enough from the door that it didn't smack her in the face when he opened it. He first noticed that she looked deathly pale, almost as pale as when he and Harvey had found her semi-unconscious in the kitchen just 4 days prior. Next was that both of her hands were tucked behind her back as if she were hiding something.

"Hey," he replied. Kristen took a measured step back, just enough to allow him room to close the door behind him and stand eye to eye, approximately a foot apart. "What's uh — is everything okay? You look sick."

Her eyes widened in response, her expression resembling a mix of panic-stricken and terrified, and Shane felt as if he were suddenly doused in pure adrenaline, fight or flight gripping him by the balls. Naturally, he was a fighter.

"Well, I do feel like I'm about to barf, so…" She trailed off into a giggle that sounded forced, as if someone were holding a loaded gun to her temple.

"Kriss, what the —"

Before he could finish, she flung one of her arms forward from behind her back, the soft crinkle of tissue paper reminding him of when Marnie stuffed gift baskets and bags with the useless garnish. Only now, it was delicately wrapped around a gigantic bouquet of flowers and thrust inches from his nose.

"I know this tradition is dumb and outdated," she began, voice wavering. Shane gently pressed the back of one hand against the bundle and slowly pushed it to the side so he could see her face, now splotched with red patches as a blush attempted to force its way to the surface. "But, I don't know. I think it's kind of sweet and romantic. I asked Pierre to bring his nicest one, but I didn't realize it would be so big. Sorry. But it's beautiful!"

She stopped babbling then, her eyes locked with his, still holding the bouquet toward him. Shane opened his mouth to reply but only gaped like a fish, literally stupefied.

"What's wrong? Do you hate it?" she asked, face crumpling the way Jas' did when she was two seconds from sobbing. "Oh god, it's too much, isn't it? This is pathetic."

Shane shook his head, still unable to articulate the barrage of emotions beating him senseless. He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to tell her that she was on the fringes of every thought that occupied his mind, no matter how fleeting. He wanted to tell her he never thought he could find true friendship again until she came crashing through his life like a wrecking ball. He wanted to tell her that the mere notion of losing her now or ever made his throat constrict like he'd swallowed a handful of wasps. But instead, he plucked the bouquet from her hand, tossed it on the tea table next to the door, and pulled her into a kiss. Tender yet yearning, his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it loose from the braid as strands slipped between each digit. The farmer responded in kind, cupping the back of his neck with her good hand while the other settled on his hip.

"Does this mean you'll be my boyfriend?" she asked teasingly when the pair finally parted. The color had returned to her face, filling in between the dusting of freckles that he loved so much, relief softening her features until her eyes appeared almost doe-like.

Boyfriend.

Instead of recoiling from the juvenile term for a romantic partner, he rolled it around in his mouth like a piece of hard candy, allowing the sweetness to coat his tongue. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

"Yeah, babe," he answered, regarding her with adoration in his eyes. "I'll never understand why you chose me, but I'll be your boyfriend. I'll be whatever you want."

***** End Note: (:

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew valley shane x farmer #sdv shane x farmer #stardew valley fanficiton #sdv fanfiction #green on the vine strawberry wine

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bnbc · 1 year

Note

18 and 25 for kou and goro and 4 and 22 for rachel and meredith!

tysm for the ask! questions here

ramen shop couple

18. Would they have kids together?

No, not gonna happen. I have a strong feeling that Goro would want kids but in this timeline his partner is both fullborg and childfree xD

25. Who said "I love you" first?

Goro, but he did it in a very subtle way: he sent her flowers that on japanese flower language mean 'secret love' (he shouldn't do it, but he was sure she wouldn't get it, but a bit of him hoped it would, it was A COMPLICATED moment okay). He also was first to say it aloud, also a bit indirectly: Kou pressed him to say who they are to each other and he referred her as 'the woman he loves'. She returned the words the day later tho :3

and corpo wives! 4. How do they compare to each other's exes? Are they the same "type" or an upgrade/something different?

oh my I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THIS sdhfsjdfskdfjh underdeveloped ship right here xD but I think they both had shitloads of one night stand (btw the relationship is kind of open), and dunno… Meredith definitely had some tragic love story with her never again tattoo, and I think Rach reminds her of them, a little, but differs from them a lot.

speaking of upgrades/downgrades: no, I think they kinda dated same kind of people from their circle, you know. I don't count one-night flings with some desiaterouse mercs as real 'exes' tho xD

22.What's different about their backgrounds? Do those differences affect the relationship?

They have a different backgrounds: both from corpo families, both were pursuing careers. But being kicked out of arasaka kind of opened Rachel's eyes that this is not only way (even tho she was eager to get back to usual lifestyle for a long time). This was one of the main reasons that made them clash in the 'first season' of their relationship: Rachel wanted to find her own way and was investing in fixer's career while Mer was thinking it was foolish and she'd better find her way back to corpo rat races. After they broken up and got back together, it was solved tho: both changed a lot and reconsidered something.

#tysm #ask game #cyberpunk 2077 #oc koulin #goro takemura #female v #otp: artificial nocturne #couple ask #rachel vogelman #meredith stout #otp: toad and viper

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hinatastinygiant · 2 years

Text

Chapter Thirty One

Mortuus Eruca

Pairing: Haikyuu!! x Fem!Reader

previous | next | 2099

After Bokuto leaves the bus, Alisa, Yachi, and Kiyoko come in. You have Kiyoko sit on the couch and give her a physical checkup just as you would if she was at your doctor's office. She seems to be in pretty good health, so when you're done, the four of you stay together and chat.

"So you talked to Kuroo and Atsumu, right?" you ask Kiyoko. "Did they say anything?"

"Probably no more than you already know. But Atsumu was being all cryptic. He kept hinting at the fact he was suspicious of someone above all else."

"Yeah, Kuroo," Alisa scoffs. "He's made that abundantly clear time and time again."

"Well let's not forget that he's here with his brother. He obviously knows Osamu more than any of us do," Yachi nods.

"Yet Bokuto is the one he punched. Why would he do that if he wasn't suspicious of him?" Kiyoko asks, turning towards you.

"Hm, that's true," Alisa nods, thinking aloud.

"Bo told me he got between Kuroo and Atsumu, trying to break up the fight, and was accidentally punched," you explain.

"Well who punched him?" Kiyoko asks. "Did he say?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I don't remember if he said who it was," you respond as you wrack your brain.

"Maybe he was part of the fight then," Yachi responds quietly.

"I don't think he was," Kiyoko shakes his head, "but I don't know if he's telling the whole truth either. Y/N, what did you guys talk about when you came in here?"

"He said he didn't wanna talk about any of it," you begin.

"That settles it, it's him. It's got to be!" Alisa gasps. "Why else would he not want to talk about it unless he was guilty?!"

"Let's not get too carried away," Kiyoko says as she puts her hand out to interrupt Alisa politely. "I don't think-" she says before she stops suddenly. She suddenly slaps her hand over her mouth as she bends forward. She looks like she's about to throw up.

"Kiyoko?!" Yachi gasps, "What's wrong?"

"I dunno," she groans, "I just started getting really bad cramps again."

"Again?" You repeat. "Has this been happening a lot?"

"It started two days ago," she tells you.

"Like period cramps?" you attempt to clarify.

"Yeah, but worse than usual..."

"Have you been bleeding as well? Or passing blood clots recently?" you continue to press.

"Yeah. That's why we came. But you said I looked alright so I didn't think I needed to talk about it any further," she cries out in pain.

"Kiyoko, I know it hurts but tell me something. Did you pass a dark red tissue kinda looking like a liver?"

"There was some shiny thing, yeah. I didn't know what it was," she groans.

"Shit," you mutter to yourself.

"What is it, Y/N?" Alisa asks you, "What's wrong?"

"Just tell me Y/N," Kiyoko adds as sweat drips down her face. "Tell me the truth, what's happening to me?"

"If it's what I think it is, you passed an embryonic sac. It might have been the size of a bean. Had you looked closely, you might've noticed..." you murmur, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news.

"Noticed what?!" she shrieks.

"Kiyoko, you had a miscarriage."

Kiyoko's neck snaps as she whips her head up to look at you. Her mouth drops to the ground as she tries to comprehend what you're telling her. Something inside her then suddenly breaks and she melts down. Tears stream down her face as she cries out for Tanaka.

"I'll get him!" Yachi gasps before running out of the bus. "Tanaka!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?! Why the hell is this happening," she sobs. "Y/N, what did I do wrong?!"

"Nothing," you respond softly as you try to calm her down. "This isn't your fault, Kiyoko. You couldn't have prevented this. It's okay, take a deep breath."

Just as you start to get her breathing back to normal, Tanaka and Yachi run into the bus. Behind them, Kuroo and Bokuto watch the scene unfold. You stand up and explain to Tanaka about Kiyoko's miscarriage. He then sits down beside his wife and wraps his arms around her. Together they cry and the rest of you walk out to give them time to grieve.

"Are you alright?" Bokuto asks you as he and Kuroo approach you. He takes you by the hand and pulls you into a hug.

"I'm fine," you sigh as you relax into his embrace. "I can't believe that happened to them. I wish there was something I could have done. I should've stayed with her, Bo. I can't believe I left her."

"You didn't know," Kuroo tells you, his hands dug into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "You shouldn't blame yourself."

"I know," you sigh as you step away from Bokuto. "I just wish there was something I could've done."

"You did so much for her," Yachi says as she and Alisa approach you.

"You do so much for all of this," Alisa adds. "Don't feel bad. We're all still alive because of you."

Yachi nudges her in the arm at her poor word choice and Alisa gulps hard. "I mean..."

"It's okay, Alisa," you smile sadly. "I know what you meant."

"They'll be okay," Nishinoya mutters from his spot just outside the bus entrance. He looks as though he's struggling to go inside to express his condolences. "I mean, I hope they will be. They're my best friends. I don't want to see them sad forever."

Just then, Kenma walks out from his tent and sees everyone gathered around. Kuroo quietly fills him in as the rest of you continue to talk.

"You should stay here for awhile," you tell Noya. "Don't leave yet. I don't want you guys to leave all upset."

"I'll tell them," he nods. "I don't really want to leave either."

"You don't?" Kenma asks, confused. "Didn't anyone tell you..."

"'Bout the murder, yeah. But once we get rid of whoever it is, it'll be safe for the rest of us. It shouldn't be a problem. We'll catch whoever it is," he remarks proudly.

"Noya's right," Yachi smiles. "We'll find who it is soon! They can't hide forever!"

You smile, unable to hold back your joy. You're surrounded by so many good people and you can't help your eyes tearing up at the thought.

previous | next | 2099

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dylanwritesgood · 2 years

Text

Ghost of You | 4

masterlist | ko-fi | ask

Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Summary: Eddie was so full of life, so full of fire, Gareth thought he was invincible—until he wasn't. After the accident, Gareth can't let go. He's determined to talk to him one last time. The universe has other ideas though.

Rating: Mature (no sex, just a lot of death and heavy themes)

WC: 2,754

Warnings: Death, nonexplicit missing person/sexual assault/murder, grief, the occult

A/N: If you somehow missed it, there's a lot of death in this fic, and I've hinted that Heather had a violent one. This chapter is Heather-centricish so see the warnings and as always, message me for a TL;DR if you think you should sit a chapter out, okay?

Gareth’s suspicion that Heather would ask for help once Barb was satisfied had been correct. While Barb still had things she wanted to say to Nancy, she was growing more and more stable by the day so the desperation seemed to fade from her. Gareth wants to appreciate the break, but he notices Heather appearing far more often, looking anxious and trying to capture his attention. He’d thought she would have something to say to him, now that Barb had backed off somewhat, but she never actually said anything. He gives her a small smile when he sees her, trying to encourage her to tell him what she needs. He’s afraid she will fade into obscurity like Barb had begun to, especially since no one else knew for certain she was gone.

“You know it’s okay to talk to me, Heather, right?” Gareth says conversationally as he does the dishes one evening. His sister is over at a friend’s and his parents are on a date, so he has the house to himself to speak aloud to thin air. “If you need help, I’ll try. You saw me help Barb, right? I’ll help you.”

He can see her over his shoulder, reflected in the dark window over the sink. She blinks slowly, sad doe eyes soft and wanting, but she doesn’t part her lips. Gareth looks down to scrub a particularly stubborn bit of gunk, and when he looks back up, she’s gone.

He sees her again a few days later, sitting on the swing set in the Emersons’ backyard. Gareth pushes open the sliding glass door and crosses the narrow fenced yard to sit on the other swing. They sway together slightly in silence, watching Marple, his sister’s fat, old tabby cat bathe her paws in a sunny patch of grass. Marple doesn’t seem perturbed by Heather’s presence, though she fixes the dead girl with an unblinking golden stare for a few minutes, so Gareth knows she sees Heather, too. It makes him feel better, even though “Miss Marple’s lost her marbles” is a common joke in his household so maybe he shouldn’t feel less crazy just because the cat says so.

He sways, toes of his Converse still touching the ground slightly, watching the shapes they scuff in the dirt underneath his swing. It’s quiet, kinda nice for a change after the staticky radio background noise of Barb’s presence. He peeks sideways to see the brunette still sitting on the next swing over, looking tired and drawn but very much there. Solid.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m sorry, Heather. I’d really hoped you’d made it out of here and were somewhere far away and happy,” he says, keeping his voice quiet. His mom’s in the kitchen, and while she can’t see him from there, the window’s open and he doesn’t want his voice to carry. Heather doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t leave, either.

“Do you remember Eddie? Y’know, the weird, loud guy that everyone hated? My friend?” He asks, and she doesn’t answer but he can see her face turn towards him from the corner of his eye. “He died. About a month ago. Car accident. I was just trying to see if I could talk to him one last time but, uh… haven’t found him. Found you and Barb, though. Or you found me, I dunno how it works. Guess I just… want to try and make something good out of this whole shitty mess. Maybe I’ll never get my best friend back, but maybe I can help others, y’know?”

Heather still doesn’t say anything, and Gareth is beginning to think maybe she can’t, the way Barb can’t be seen. She gets up from the swing as he watches her, looking towards the forest that crowds up to the picket fence demarcating the Emersons’ yard. One moment she’s on his side of the fence, the next she’s on the other and heading into the trees without a backward glance. She didn’t go through the fence, Gareth was certain. She just… existed in one place until she existed in another and he couldn’t quite find the exact moment in time she moved between them. He scrambles after her, vaulting over the low fence with ease as he tries to catch up. He can see her figure ahead of him in the trees, nearly out of sight, but she never quite leaves him.

Heather leads him for what feels like miles. The woods around Hawkins are both beloved for childhood adventures and sprawling enough that it’s easy to get turned around. Gareth grew up in them and he’s not a hundred percent sure where he is.

But Heather doesn’t leave him. She’s leading him somewhere. He knows she’s leading him because she waits for him after he trips over a root and stumbles. Waits until he’s staggered to his feet and found his bearings again before proceeding. So Gareth winds through the trees after her.

She takes him to a small clearing a few hundred feet into the trees from the narrow two-lane highway that snakes its way past the town and stops. Gareth looks around, but he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Heather holds out a hand to him, fingers outstretched as if inviting him to tangle his with hers like they were holding hands on a stroll through the woods.

Her palm is icy against his, and as soon as he touches her, he’s hit with an onslaught of images, disjointed and distorted. He’s standing on the same highway, closer to town, a thumb stuck out and walking backwards down the shoulder as he watches approaching traffic, looking for someone to slow down. It’s not his hand he’s holding up, his nails aren’t painted bubblegum pink. A green Chevy truck slows and pulls off, Gareth’s leaning in the window.

The scene jumps, he’s looking over the dash through the dirty windshield. The guy who picked him up—Heather up—is blonde and in his early thirties. He has a hand on Gareth’s knee, thumb rubbing into the skin of his thigh below his—Heather’s—cutoffs. Gareth is being dragged, fingers tangled in his long hair and a hand over his mouth to muffle his cries for help as he’s yanked along. He’s thrown to the ground in that clearing, a hand is fumbling for the button of his shorts, two hands are on his throat, squeezing.

He’s standing beside the blonde man, looking down at Heather’s lifeless, violated body. He’s still standing there, looking down, as the man drags her body by the wrists to dump her in a shallow grave scratched into the leaf-strewn forest floor.

Just as suddenly as he was in the vision, Gareth’s back in reality, doubled over and emptying his stomach onto the ground. Heather’s quietly standing by, watching him the same way she watched her own body receive an undignified burial. Gareth spits, pants, and then straightens up once he’s sure he’s gotten it all up. He notices vaguely that he’s trembling, but that happens a lot, now. He meets Heather’s eyes.

“I’ll tell Hopper.”

She’s gone in the blink of an eye.

It takes Gareth the rest of the afternoon to find his way back into town. He marked a trail as he walked through the woods towards the highway, taking stock once he’d reached the road and trying to figure out exactly where he is. There’s a mile marker not far from him, so he makes note of the number on it and turns to follow the empty highway back to town.

"Can I please just talk to Chief Hopper?” Gareth pleads with Florence, the secretary-slash-dispatcher of the Hawkins Police Department, “It’s important.”

Flo is unmoved by the teenager’s strained tone. “You can talk to Officer Callahan, young man. He’s more than capable of taking your report,” she says pertly.

Gareth doesn’t want to talk to Officer Callahan—he needs to talk to the Chief, who was the only member of the Hawkins PD Eddie had trusted. He might be dead, but Eddie had been well-acquainted with the entire tiny police force in Hawkins, and Gareth trusts his judgment when he’d told his younger friend to only ever speak to Hopper.

“Look, I’ll wait if I need to, but I need to speak to the Chief.”

“He’s not in and he won’t be in. You’ll be waiting a long time if you’re waiting on the Chief,” Florence retorts.

Gareth tugs at his hair in frustration, pacing a few steps back and forth in front of Flo’s little domain. Hopper was the only one Gareth trusted not to have him fuckin’ committed when Gareth told him that he knew where to find Heather Holloway’s body because she’d shown him.

“Do you’ll know when he’ll be in?”

Flo looks pointedly at the clock hanging in the tiny lobby space. “Well, he was supposed to be here five hours ago and he hasn’t been so—”

Her sharp-tongued reply is cut short by the front door banging open as the man in question steps through. Hopper dominates the space, not just because he towered over Gareth, but in the kind of way authority does to you. Hopper’s the king of this domain, even if Flo’s sour expression leaves him looking at least a little apologetic for his tardiness.

“Afternoon, Flo… kid,” he greets them as he crosses the space to pull open the door leading to the rest of the station—and his quiet office, where he can doze off the rest of this hangover.

Gareth’s too distracted by the child following Hopper that no one else acknowledges. Okay, so it’s probably just him who sees her, though she hasn’t noticed that Gareth’s noticed her because she’s trailing after Hopper and looking up at his face. God, this is never going to get less fuckin’ weird, is it?

“Nice of you to join us today in the land of the living, Jim,” Florence greets him with an annoyed expression, “This young man here was looking for you. Says he has something to tell you and only you.”

Hopper takes a better look at Gareth, hand resting on the doorknob and the door cracked open as he pauses. Gareth thinks the Chief looks like he’s desperately coming up with an excuse as to why he can’t talk to Gareth so he can sleep off his obvious hangover but he’s coming up blank. Hopper squeezes his bloodshot eyes closed for a moment and blows out a breath.

“Sure. C’mon, kid,” he says as he gestures for Gareth to follow him.

Gareth does, careful not to tread on the little girl who is clinging to Hopper’s wake. If Hopper notices how Gareth steps around something that isn’t there, he doesn’t say anything. Hopper settles behind his desk, rifling around for a pen to go with his notepad.

“What’s your name, kid, and what was so important you could only tell me?”

Gareth takes one of the seats positioned on the other side of the desk, perching on the edge of it because he really wants to bolt but he promised Heather he’d take care of her.

“It’s Gareth… Emerson,” he adds quickly, “And uh, I know what happened to Heather Holloway.”

Hopper draws in a surprised breath through his nose and sits back in his seat, eyebrows raised as he studies the teenager across from him. Gareth can’t help but squirm. His problem with authority wasn’t as deep-seated as Eddie’s but it was still uncomfortable to be here in Hopper’s office. He forces his chin up a little—he didn’t do anything wrong, there’s no reason to cower.

“And how would you know about that, Gareth?” Hopper’s voice is surprisingly free of suspicion, but he’s curious. Gareth’s still on guard though.

“First off—I wasn’t even in the state when she went missing if you’re thinking that,” he says defensively, “But she showed me.”

“She… showed you?” Hopper says, incredulous. If his eyebrows drift any higher, they’ll float right off his forehead, Gareth thinks to himself. “And just how did she show you? And if she showed you, why isn’t she here with you?”

“She’s dead—you know that. I know she’s officially still missing, but… you don’t think she’s still alive,” Gareth says. He’s not quite sure how he knows that but he just does. Hopper looks unsettled for a split second before his cop-face comes back up. “Listen, promise me you’ll hear me out before you say anything, okay?”

Slowly, Hopper nods, reaching for his pen without breaking eye contact. Gareth takes a deep breath, glancing at the little girl peeking around the edge of Hopper’s desk at him curiously. Hopper follows his gaze and frowns when he doesn’t see what distracted the teenager.

“So, um… I’ve started seeing Heather. Well… Heather’s ghost, I guess, because Heather’s dead and living people don’t show up in reflections and disappear by the time you turn around. It’s been maybe two weeks of her just… lurking around, and I tried to talk to her today. She didn’t say anything but she tried to get me to follow her. Took me out to a clearing not too far off Highway Nine. She’s buried there.”

Hopper hasn’t written a goddamn thing down, he’s just looking at Gareth with that same perturbed expression Gareth gets a lot these days.

“Okay. I’m going to assume you’re not pulling my leg and you’re not crazy here. I’ll bite—why do you think she’s buried there?” He finally replies after an uncomfortably long silence.

“I’m not crazy!” Gareth snaps, before looking chastened, “I’m not crazy. I feel crazy and talking about this isn’t fun, but I’m not crazy, and I’m not lying.”

“Okay. Did you dig her up or something?” Hopper presses. Gareth looks horrified.

“No! Jesus, I’m not stupid enough to go dig up a crime scene. I told you. She showed me.”

“Showed you,” Hopper repeats, brows lowering now.

Gareth wets his lips nervously and tries his best to describe the broken, disoriented memories he’d seen when Heather had taken his hand. Hopper still hasn’t written anything down, he’s just watching Gareth with an impassable expression as the teen talks. When Gareth falls quiet, Hopper makes a decision and heaves his frame out of his chair.

“C’mon, kid. Show me where you found her.”

It’s an awkward, quiet ride out to the mile marker Gareth shared with Hopper. He looks out the windshield of the Blazer, peering over the dashboard and being struck with how similar the view is to Heather’s last hour. His stomach rolls hard at the thought and he needs to throw up, but Hopper’s already pulling over. They’re there. Gareth staggers out of the Blazer, willing his stomach to settle.

“Alright kid. Now what?” Hopper asks. He’s rifling around the back of the SUV and emerges with a full-length shovel slung over his shoulder.

“I marked a path,” Gareth manages, jerking his head towards the woods. “It’s this way.”

He’s unsteady as he leads Hopper deeper into the trees. The air here’s suffocating, pressing down on Gareth like two hands on his throat. He glances at Hopper to find he looks unsettled, too. Gareth’s glad he’s not the only one to notice. After a few more moments of walking—and a brief interlude as Gareth has to search around to pick his trail back up—they reach the clearing. Gareth knows it’s the right place because Heather’s standing in the clearing, looking at the ground at the base of a thick oak tree. Hopper surveys the little space.

“You know exactly where she is or do we just start digging and hope we get lucky?” He asks, taking off his sunglasses and hooking them in the front of his shirt.

“She’s there, by that tree.” Gareth points, still looking at Heather. She looks up to meet his eyes, still so sad, but now there’s a fire burning in them. They’re going to get her justice.

Hopper digs where Gareth indicates, and it only takes a few shovelfuls of packed earth before Hopper swears under his breath and stoops to look more closely at something in the dirt. He looks up at Gareth, who’s been avoiding looking toward the Chief as he dug.

“Kid, I’m gonna need you to make a statement back at the station and, uh, just to be sure, I’m gonna need you to tell us who we can talk to about where you were last summer.”

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth stranger things #stranger things fic #st4 #ghost of you fic #eddie munson #horror fiction

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l1tw1ck · 2 years

Text

In Your Shirt: Multi-Fandom Shorts

FTM!Characters x Top!Male Reader

Characters: Scaramouche, Kurt Kunkle, Kenma Kozume

(I'll do full versions for these at some point)

General Warnings: Smut Build Up (no actual sex)

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You see Scaramouche on the couch, only wearing a t-shirt of yours that was comically large on his small body. He was pretty relaxed, his hand was occupied by a glass of red wine.

"Scara?" You look at him, amused.

"What?" He raises an eyebrow, feigning annoyed confusion.

"..Nothing." You sit down next to him. "What're you watching?"

"Just the news." He replies. That's when you knew something was off. He hated watching the news, he always talks about how stupid the people are. It's obvious he was only watching whatever channel showed up first when he turned the TV on, most likely apart of a plan he has.

"Is that so.." You lie back on the couch, getting comfortable. The two of you watched the news in silence, except for the occasional groans or insults from Scaramouche.

Scaramouche growls and slams the wine glass on the coffee table. "Do you have erectile dysfunction or something?!"

You burst into laughter. "What?"

"Fuck- you can't take a hint?" He pushes you down and climbs onto your lap. "I'm already so fucking wet and you're not even doing anything?!"

"Maybe if you beg, I'll take care of you." You smirk.

"Fuck off." He flips you off. "I don't need your permission." He pulls your pants down and frees your growing hard-on from your underwear. You were completely ignoring Scaramouche's presence in order to stay flaccid so you could tease him. He jerks your dick to full size and slowly lowers him self down onto you.

"Don't you dare move."

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Warnings: Non-Con, Drugging

"Thanks for picking me up again...uh-" You pause, noticing that your driver's wearing the same shirt you were wearing last time he drove you.

"It's Kurt, you know, KurtsWorld96? I drove you la- last week?" He looks at you offendedly.

"No- I- ugh...I just- I have the same shirt."

"Oh yeah, I know." He smiles. You give him a weird creeped out look but don't press him further. You don't wanna know. Kurt grabs a reusable water bottle that was in the cup holder and hands it to you, eyes still on the road. "You mus- must be thirsty, have some water."

"I dunno..." You look at the bottle suspiciously. It wasn't see through so you couldn't tell if it was really water in there.

"C'mon. Jus- just drink it, o- okay?" Kurt tries to stop himself from losing his temper.

"...Okay." You shrug. It's not like you had much to live for anyway. You take a big sip of the water, weirdly enough you were kinda interested to see what would happen. The last thing you remember before blacking is Kurt's weird smile in the mirror.

You finally come to, you shut your eyes tightly as a bright white light overloads your senses. You were so delirious you could barely hear anything either. The only thing you could make out was Kurt saying, "Fuck, marry, or kill?"

You couldn't even process what he said, you're completely out of your mind. You're still in the backseat of his car but your arms are tied behind your back. You don't even try to move, you're too fucked up to do anything.

"Fu- fuck?" Kurt blushes. "Really guys?" He looks at the results of his poll.

Someone donates a dollar, the text to speech reads the message aloud. "Don't act like you didn't want fuck to win."

Kurt bites his lip. "Well...he is pretty attractive..." Kurt fumbles with the waistband of your sweats.

A quiet involuntary groan escapes your lips as he finally makes it to your underwear, hand lightly tracing your dick. "You like that?" Kurt laughs creepily. "Should I suck him off, guys?" He looks at the chat, the answer is unanimous. Everyone wanted to see him give you a blowjob.

"Wonder how big your dick is..."

──────────────────

Warnings: Non-Con Somnophilia, Fingering

"Hey, I'm home." You call out, taking your shoes off before looking for Kenma. It doesn't take you long to see him sitting on a stool, body slumped over the kitchen island.

He was wearing your t-shirt and some boxers, he clearly passed out from drinking. It looks like he was watching something while eating and drinking. Must've had a bit too much. Normally, you would've just carried him to your shared bedroom but seeing him in your shirt was too tempting.

You pick him up, moving him further onto the table. You pull his underwear down, licking your lips at the sight of his already wet pussy. "Wonder what you're dreaming about." You finger fuck him while palming yourself through your pants. Kenma moans softly, murmuring your name.

"More...please.."

#male reader #top male reader #wicks🕯shorts #kenma x reader #kenma x male reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #kurt kunkle x male reader #kurt kunkle x reader #dark content

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vampirepuppygirl · 2 years

Text

I kinda want to write another poem, but I dunno what, so I'm gonna do this instead.

My brain sometimes churns over and over as I mull over various thoughts, memories, and feelings, but then nothing is produced. Kinda like a candy puller only you don't get the tasty sweet at the end. Not yet. For every mental sandcastle I build, 10 more go unfinished or destroyed by the wave of life. I think I just want to write, sometimes. Not about anything, or of any particular topic. I just like putting words together, forming complex strings of sound that have little to no meaning.

On that subject, meaning vs purpose is an interesting topic. Some people find it interchangable, but I don't think they are. Not really. Things don't need to mean anything. But everything has purpose. Musing over these distinctions has no meaning, I don't have any grand life advice or any deep profound thoughts. But it does have purpose. It makes me happy to talk about this, and express myself this way.

My life has no meaning. There's no grand metaphor, no divine journey. I exist, I will live for a while, and then the chemical reactions will eventually destabilize and I'll stop being able to sustain myself. However, my life does have purpose. My own purpose, which only I can choose. I think my purpose is to make those around me smile, and to help people who need it in ways that I can. My purpose is to eat tasty food, sleep somewhere warm and comfy, create things that I think are cool and interesting, and learn more about myself and the universe around me. I think my purpose is to live, and be me in the way only I know how to be.

I'm not really going anywhere with this. I'm not really preaching, or saying that you should figure out your own purpose, nor that every life is meaningless. I'm just thinking aloud, I think. For the longest time I felt like I was nothing. I did nothing, I knew nothing, I deserved nothing. Now, I'm learning more and more that I'm not nothing. I'm me. And I have the honor and privilege of deciding who I want me to be.

#lila speaks #I have no clue how to tag this #food for thought #that's a good tag I think #I hope whoever is reading this has a good day #you're loved and you deserve kindness #I have a very deep integral sadness that I can't get rid of and I think that as long as I just keep trying to be who I know I am #then the sadness can just eat a dick

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frauggiethecreature · 2 years

Text

reblog if you fully and intentionally are referring to aspec people as well when you use the word queer to refer to the community

clarification in tags

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

Note

I’m a little unhealthily obsessed with Silco’s graying hair in acts 2 & 3 and I’m just imagining him reacting to being a called a silver fox because he is and he deserves to have someone tell his middle-aged ass how hot he is.

Sweetie, there's nothing healthy about our obsession with this cartoon evil man. His hair is the least of our worries ❤

Warning: Crack, kinda fluffy, minor pining, Reader is simping a lil' bit & is so absolutely oh my god they are so far gone you guys drunk, if Silco had any physical self-esteem issues before, he doesn't have them after this

"I should tell him." Ran immediately raises their brow, turning as they observe you. You don't pay attention though, turning a glass to catch under the bar-lighting. It's pretty, the ever-changing colors sparkling the glass and the shine catches on your eye and makes you blink. After a beat, you smile. As if you had found the answer in the see-through material. "Yeah.... yeah, I'm gonna tell him!"

Your co-worker almost looked weary to ask. "Tell who what?"

You frowned, rolling your eyes, suppressing a giggle at how the world swirled. "Tell Silco he's sexy, duh!"

Ran needed a moment to process the words that just came out of your mouth, and when they did, they turned and made a swift-cutting motion to the Thieram-... no, Chuck. You thought with a snort at the new nickname going around the crew. Chuck sounded funnier. "I dunno if a lot of people tell him... have you told him he's sexy, Ran?"

Clenching their metal-hand, Ran looks physically pained. Like yourself, Ran liked to keep to themselves, following orders and doing the dirty-work without complaint, before camping out at base or heading home without much fanfare. It had taken a while for the two of you to become more regular-drinking buddies, and right now, Ran looked like they were seriously regretting it. "... No."

"Well, why not?" You scoffed, lifting your chin and crossing your arms to rest your head atop of them, fingers lazily tapping on your other wrist. "He is, and more people should say it." Sudden though flashing through you, you jerked your head up to look at the barkeep. "Hey, when's the last time you told Silco he's-"

The taste of metal on your tongue, but Ran is in enough control of her prosthetic not to crush your jaw as they effectively muzzle you. "Do not finish that line of thought." A glance to your glass, and Ran snatches it up with the other gloved hand. "And don't finish the drink, either. I think you'd be absolutely suicidal if you try to complete either one." Scoffing, you tugged at the metal grip on your face until it relented.

You spat out the taste of sharp metal and rubbed at your lips. "Well, it's true. And don't people, like... like compliments? What's wrong with me telling the truth and complimenting him?" Silco was enough of arrogant asshole that he would probably lavish in the praise. But he was still really, really attractive so you supposed it was fine if he wanted to be a jerk about it...

"Whoops." Apparently that internal-thought wasn't as internal as you thought, for Ran is rubbing the wrinkles between their eyebrows with a groan. "Please don't get up and call our boss... attractive. Or arrogant, or an asshole, Janna's sake..."

They're right - if you're going to tell him, you might want to cut out the negatives.

"You are right, I shouldn't call him that," You didn't even give Ran time to sigh in relief, tilting your head. "But like, I don't think there's enough in our language to say about him. Do I just, like... make-up words?" Your co-worker promptly chugged-back half of your stolen drink, but you were squinting too hard towards the ceiling to notice as you pondered aloud. "I mean, I know what's hot about him, but how do you like... put that into words when... he's just... that... hot?"

A poet, you were not, especially in this state.

But you were determined, and even though Ran half-heartedly made a grab for you, you slipped off the stool, regained your balance before you fell flat onto the floorboars, and started a half-shuffle, half-stumble towards the stairs.

Some distant, far-away part of you that still knew what the word 'sobriety' meant, was screaming at the top of its lungs. Do not go up those stairs, it howled. Don't even think about it. You know this doesn't end well, you are drunk, and he's SILCO.

Unfortunately, that sober-part of you made the mistake of saying the S-word, and you only smiled at the thought, and took the steps two-at-a-time. Only nearly-falling twice.

"I'm busy." Piltover's Industrialist, and the Underground's Eye didn't even look up at the sound of his door swinging open without warning. If it had been Jinx, she would've come in through the skylight, hanging from the rafters, and Sevika knew to knock.

And if it were any assassin, he knew one of the two ladies wouldn't be far behind to take care of it. Therefore, Silco could focus wholly on his paperwork, debating whether or not to actually approve this distribution sale...

"Hey, what's that... fuzzy... dog-thing? We don't have them here, but like... they live in forests and stuff."

"I believe it's called a fox." He doesn't know why he answers, but it's offhanded and short. The 'get out while you still have the chance,' is clear in his voice, but you don't hear it, and only grin with a snap of your fingers. "Fox, that's it!"

You flop onto the plush couch, letting out a coo underbreath at how comfortable it is as you set your feet on the arm, one crossed over the other with a grin as you proudly declare, "You're a real silver-fox!"

Silco, whose decided to approve the sale, promptly smears the ink of his pen halfway across the page.

A blink from his eye, and, very slowly, he sets the pen down atop of the paper. Folds his hands together. And lifts his chin to look over at you. "What," His tone was calm, measured, and both red and green eyes were downright murderous. "Are you doing?"

"Shh, don't interrupt," You pout, and miss the way his knuckles go white when you wag your finger at him.

Crossing your arms overhead, a sigh sounds from you as your boss fumes at your gall, but you're too far gone to even notice. "It's like... ridiculous how amazing you are. I'm talking head-to-toe, just... my Gods, have you ever seen yourself in a mirror??"

Again, you wag your finger in the air. "Nuh-uh, I'm not finished! Like, it's everything about you, from the silver-hair, to the biceps, and that tight little ass..."

You sighed dreamily as Silco prompted choked on his own air at his desk, hand darting to grab his glass of brandy.

"But like... I don't see how everyone doesn't see it! You're just like... incredible." Again, you hate the fact that you can't even spell the word sobriety anymore, for you wish you had a better grasp on your vocabulary at the moment. Words are swirling around your head faster than the ceiling is, so you press the heels of your palms against your eyes with a frustrated grumble. "Like, just fucking beautiful. Do you know how stunning you are?"

The fact that you sounded genuine, and also absolutely plastered, made Silco grit his teeth as he set his glass down with a sharp clink. "Is this a joke? Do you think I renovated The Last Drop into a comedy-club? No one is laughing."

You frown, and somehow, find yourself on your feet. Arms sway in air as you caught your balance, and with the world swooping and swaying around you, make your way over towards the desk. "Oof, no, hey-" You nearly fell over it at the same time as Silco shot to his feet, face twisted in a snarl, reaching for the nearest sharp-object-

Smack

The reigning crimelord of Zaun flinched as both your palms landed on either side of his face. You were too out-of-it to avoid the sting entirely, but it faded quickly as he realized you were standing there. Smiling like a complete idiot, but standing there and beaming as you held his face in between hands, like it was something precious.

"See? Even when you're cute when you are angry... or, other-way," You giggled, lolling your head to the side. "Just... I don't know how everyone doesn't see it. How amazing you are, every part of you is just... words suck." You finally gave up, pouting as you lifted one hand to gently pat his scarred cheek, still holding his face as you leaned over the desk to gaze up at him, in true adoration.

"Words suck," You repeated. "You? Perfect."

Then you closed your eyes, finally hearing the far-away sober part of you wailing at your idiocy, and already drafting your eulogy. Distantly, you were aware of long fingers reaching around your wrists, and lowering your hands from his face. You assumed the slight tremble was from your own intoxicated muscles, all out of sync.

"How... much did you drink?"

"A lot." You hiccuped, cracking open your eyes to chuckle sleepily as you watched the world seem to smear and smudge past. "Would still mean it if I was sober, though."

"I'm..." A pause, so long you thought you fell asleep. As your eyes slipped close, you felt something slim and warm wrap around you, and you let out a happy murmur as you felt the couch beneath you again. "... I'm sure you would."

You frowned, blindly reaching a hand up when you felt the warmth leave you, after propped your hand on the armrest. Fingers caught the edge of an designed, leather vest, and tugged slightly. "Hey, nuh-uh. I would. I've been wanting to say that for months now, don't you go... not-believing me. I'm serious."

"Months... is that right?"

You snuggled back against the couch, hand limp and falling as you felt something heavy but comfy fall over your form. Almost hesitant, but you all but snatched it up around your body, smiling happily at the faint musk of smoke surrounding you. "Yep."

Again, it was quiet for so long you thought you'd fallen asleep. You felt that you could, honestly, and curled your legs up so you were nearly buried under the jacket.

Heh. Buried.

You'd probably be dead by morning for this ridiculous transgression, so the humor of mortality was becoming truly funny to even your dazing mind.

"We can discuss this further. When we are sober, and able to speak naturally." You hear a shuffle of something being set by the couch, but only frown. "What if this is how I naturally speak?"

"Ha," He doesn't sound impressed. "There's a bin beside you. If you even think about staining my couch, floor or coat, you won't get a chance to sober up. I'll kill while you're suffering from the worst hangover of your life, but I will not make it a merciful death. Understood?"

"Sure thing, handsome." Lengthy silence, but you strove to fill it. "My silver-fox. Cutie-pie. Hotstuff. Mr Right. Mcdreamy. Apple of my Eye..." You had to giggle at that one, and heard a small sigh, before a press of a finger at your lip, attempting to silence you. "Stop talking," The order isn't biting, but firm. "Go to sleep."

You were one to follow orders, and do as they were told. So obediently, you felt your weighted mind start to sink deeper into those depths calling to you, pulling in for a long, dreamless sleep...

But you didn't go quietly, not without ignoring his orders one last time to whisper with a smile playing on your lips as you drifted to sleep.

"Whatever you want, sexy..."

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