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slutforsilverfoxes · 11 months

Text

Damned Spot

TW: Canon typical descriptions of violence (guns, hand-to-hand combat, McGarrett being McGarrett)

You feel a gentle nudge at your side and you groan softly in protest, nestling deeper into the pillow and the comforting smell of the cologne you bought your fiancé for Valentine’s Day a few weeks ago. Another nudge sends your body shifting again, the pressure more insistent this time, and you open your bleary eyes to find Steve sitting upright in bed, a finger pressed to his lips. You can feel the tension rolling off him in waves causing a bolt of fear to run down your spine and effectively breaking the sandman’s grip on you. You mouth, What is it?, and he holds up one finger in lieu of a response, listening intently. Then he asks, “Did you leave a window open downstairs?”

“No,” you whisper, “never. Growing up with cats made me paranoid.”

Steve eases his legs over the side of the bed, carefully opening the drawer of his bedside table and retrieving his gun and clip. Reaching for his arm as he slides the magazine into place with a faint click, you murmur, “Baby, what’s going on?”

“I think someone’s trying to get into the house.”

He checks his phone, frowns, and replaces it on the nightstand. “No signal,” he reports, looking hopefully at you when you raise the landline to your ear. You shake your head. He stalks over to the bedroom door, then stops with his hand on the knob at the sound of fabric rustling from behind him. Turning to find you tugging on one of his Navy t-shirts, he furrows his brow and hisses, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re staying here.”

“Fat fucking chance,” you argue quietly, racking a bullet in the chamber of your own piece while joining him at the door. “You don’t take me to the range so I can sit up here worrying while you play Super SEAL. Let’s go.”

He puffs out a breath of air, jaw ticking as he considers his options. After a moment, he relents, “Stay on me, and stick to the shadows. If I say run, you run, got it?” You swallow thickly and nod, his eyes softening at the determination and fear swimming in your own. “You remember what I taught you?”

“Keep my finger off the trigger unless I intend to shoot.”

“And if you do?”

“Aim for center mass.”

He tucks you into his body and presses his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “That’s my girl.” Steve quietly opens the bedroom door and steps out onto the landing. With his dominant hand on his weapon, he reaches behind with his free hand and laces his fingers through yours, tugging you closer until your chest presses against his back. Feeling your pulse thrumming beneath his fingertips, he gives your hand a firm squeeze before lifting it to his shoulder. After a quick sweep of the living room from upstairs, he looks at you over his shoulder and whispers, “On me,” then begins your careful descent. Glass shatters somewhere in the kitchen, and Steve can feel your entire body tense as you muffle a gasp against his bare back. He turns at the bottom of the steps, guiding you into the corner there and shielding your smaller form from the wide open space of the living room, then raises his gun in the dark. Pressed so tightly into him, you feel rather than hear his authoritative voice carry through your home. “This is Commander McGarrett of Five-0,” he announces. “Put down any weapons you have, and come out with your hands raised.”

The house goes dead silent, or maybe it’s just impossible to hear over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. God, you think to yourself, how does he do this every day? The seconds tick by, and the tension hanging in the air is downright oppressive.

Then, an object goes clattering across the floor and all hell breaks loose.

“Get down!” Steve roars, spinning and crushing you into his body moments before the backs of your eyelids go stark white from the flash bang. You force your eyes open as the light dissipates, readjusting to the dark once again enveloping you as time slows to a crawl and the world spins around you. You feel Steve’s palm tapping insistently against your cheek, and you realize he’s been calling your name, trying to get your attention. “Y/N, Y/N, look at me,” he pleads, and you hear a distinct edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before. He’s scared, you realize with a start, bile rising in your throat at the prospect of this man, the very definition of bravery, being scared about what you’re facing. The scene unfolding before you hurtles back to normal speed, and you spot movement on the second floor by your bedroom. Acting on instinct, your index finger shifts onto the trigger and you squeeze twice in rapid succession, gulping in air and staring in disbelief at the body that tumbles down the stairs to lay at your feet.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the landing and the living room where you can hear Steve exchanging blows with one of the intruders. He lets out a guttural roar, and you can just make out his form ramming a figure clad in black against the far wall. Then there’s a sharp crack followed by the sound of deadweight hitting the floor.

“Baby,” Steve says urgently, wrenching the semi-automatic from the dead man’s grip before returning to your side, his hand a comforting pressure on your shoulder. “Get to the basement. They’re going to send a second wave-”

His intuition proves right, the front door breaking off its hinges from a powerful kick and more glass shattering before you hear the thundering of boots across the hall upstairs. “Go! Go now!” Pressing your body to the wall that supports the staircase, you make it as far as the kitchen before the clouds part and the crescent moon illuminates another three men running towards you from the beach, weapons trained on your beloved home. The acrid smell of smoke fills the air as Steve fires a series of shots, trying to fend off the intruders so you can reach the basement for a semblance of tactical advantage, the relatively small room devoid of windows and featuring only a single entrance and exit.

You move into the kitchen, glass cutting into the soles of your feet that you barely even register thanks to the adrenaline coursing through your body, and reach for the handle to the basement door. “I can’t feel it,” you cry, panic flooding your voice while you paw at the wood. “Steve, I can’t find the handle!”

He realizes then, with a rising sense of dread, that he didn’t hear a window squeaking on its hinge. They didn’t need a window to breach the house. It was a fucking drill.

“Okay,” he nods, resigned. “Okay. How many bullets do you have left?”

“Four,” you answer shakily, swiping at your eyes to clear your vision.

He pops off an expertly placed shot, and you flinch when the man’s head jerks back before he crumples to the sand outside. “I’m sure our neighbors have called HPD by now,” Steve says confidently, trying to imbue his strength into you despite the myriad of scenes playing out in his head of how this could all go horribly wrong. “Tell me again what you’re gonna aim for,” he coaches.

“Center mass,” you answer dutifully.

Steve rumbles out, “You’re doing so well, Y/N. You keep your eye on that hallway, okay?” You hear the crunching of glass beneath heavy footfalls, and you take a deep breath in a feeble attempt to steel your nerves. Then shots ring out across the kitchen, the sparks of bullets affording you snapshots of the chaos, accompanied by the soundtrack of blows landing and bones cracking.

As quickly as it started, it’s all over. The longest six minutes of your life. Just about the length of Bohemian Rhapsody.

The thought has a laugh bubbling out of you, and Steve turns at the sound to check on you, the air rushing out of his lungs.

“Baby?” He drops to his knees, cradling your head in his lap and pressing his hand against your chest.

“Hurts,” you gasp out, trying to pull away from the unwelcome pressure.

“I know, my love,” he soothes you, “just breathe through it, okay? C’mon, breathe with me.” Following his lead, you take deliberate breaths, each gulp of air sending a shockwave of pain radiating through your body.

“This sucks,” you laugh again, almost delirious now. “I just picked out my wedding dress.”

“And you’re gonna look so beautiful in it,” Steve croons, pressing his hand even harder against the bullet wound in response to your rapidly worsening pallor. “Keep breathing, baby.”

You take in an obedient breath, and he blinks away tears, joking, “You wanted us to have another thing in common, huh? Matching his and hers scars?” You smile lovingly at him before gasping from the pain, and he continues rambling to keep you conscious, “It’s a through and through, Y/N, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Jus’ a through ’n through,” you slur back.

“Stay awake, Y/N,” he says roughly, jostling his knees beneath your head. The sound of approaching sirens grows louder with each passing second, and you try to memorize Steve’s handsome visage, his features drawn together tightly in concern.

You muse, “So pretty,” as his face comes in and out of focus, and you let out a content hum before closing your eyes, the sound of Steve’s panicked voice blending into the wailing sirens, and then nothing at all.

__________

“Hey, babe,” Danny calls as he walks briskly through the hospital just after three in the morning, lowering his voice when he receives a disgruntled look from one of the few other people in the lobby. “HPD said you were on your way to Tripler.” Seeing Steve decked out in an EMT’s jacket, he quips, “What happened? You ride in the ambulance so much they gave you a souvenir, huh?” Steve turns at the sound of Danny’s voice, his disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes a stark contrast to his usual sarcasm and self-assurance. “Woah, hey,” the blonde’s voice drops to a soothing murmur, and he pulls his best friend into a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

“It’s um-” Steve sniffs and smooths a hand over his face, steeling himself. “A tactical team broke into the house-” His voice breaks and he clears his throat, his hand balling into a fist that he repeatedly hits against his open palm before blurting out, “She got shot, Danny.”

The blonde is dumbstruck, unsure of how to ask his followup question and grateful when his partner intuits his fear. “She’s in surgery,” Steve supplies, and Danny releases a ragged breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“How much longer?”

Steve merely shrugs in response, glassy-eyed stare trained on the floor in front of him. He pulls his hands out of the jacket pockets and studies them for a moment before concluding, “She lost a lot of blood.”

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, babe.” Danny guides his friend down the hall toward the nearest restroom. “I’m gonna call the team and let them know what’s going on. And I’ll have Chin bring you a change of clothes. Should I… call Y/N’s parents?”

“Not yet,” Steve intones, letting the rest of his thought go unspoken, then pushes open the door to the bathroom.

He stands in front of the sink for a few moments in a trance, unsure of what to do next until he glances down at his hands again, unrecognizable in their current state. He runs his palms under scalding hot water and scrubs at them ferociously, willing the liquid in the basin to stop running red. After several minutes, crimson has dulled to a blush tinge- the same color as your cheeks when he makes you laugh and the flowers you chose for the table settings at the wedding. He moves to swipe at his pooling tears but can’t bring himself to touch his face. Instead, he pulls out several paper towels, wets them, and dabs at his stinging eyes.

The cool water brings him marginally back to reality, although he’s not sure that’s a good thing given the state of his world right now. Suddenly feeling hot all over, and definitely too hot for this stupid jacket, Steve yanks at the zipper and peels off the heavy fabric. It takes him a few tugs to get the material detached from his bare skin, and when he looks up into the mirror again, he sees why.

On the other side of the door, Danny’s filling Chin in on the vague details he has of the night. “…won’t even say her name. No, I know, but he just keeps saying ‘she’ like Y/N’s a victim in one of our cases and it’s honestly freaking me-” Danny gets cut off by a gut-wrenching howl followed by the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. “I have to go,” he mutters into the phone. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you when you get here. Thanks.” He allows himself a moment to breathe and prepare himself for what he’s about to see, then enters the bathroom.

He finds Steve gripping the sink so tightly that fresh blood oozes from the wounds on his knuckles with each flex of his fingers, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stares blankly ahead into the broken mirror. “Steve-”

“Look at me,” his best friend rasps out, turning so that Danny can see his bare chest, a horrifying canvas painted with your blood. He opens and closes his mouth several times, clearly at a loss for words as he looks down at his hands in disbelief. “Her blood is literally on my hands, Danny. I was- I was supposed to protect her. My baby,” he whispers sadly, and then the dam breaks.

__________

As night creeps into morning, Steve sits in the waiting room with his team members poring over recent case files. He scratches at his chest for the umpteenth time, unable to escape from the hellish feeling of your blood on his body even after a hot shower in the nurses’ locker room and a change of clothes courtesy of Chin. “This is taking too long,” he sighs, slapping a file closed on the table before him and digging the heels of his palms into his raw eyes.

“Steve,” Kono starts gently, rubbing his arm, “why don’t you get some rest? We’ll keep going and wake you up if-”

“No,” he shakes his head, his voice rough with exhaustion and barely concealed rage. “I’m not going to sleep until I hunt down this son of a bitch and take away everyone he loves.” After a breath, he nudges Danny’s foot under the table and asks, “What’s Duke saying?”

“No hits through facial rec or even Interpol. It’s like these guys are ghosts.”

Chin sits up in his stiff hospital chair like an epiphany’s just struck. “What if this isn’t about Five-0?”

“Y/N’s a high school teacher,” Danny says, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Her biggest enemy is Mrs. Heifer down the hall who never replenishes the K-cups.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Steve smiles at his best friend and corrects, “Mrs. Hannifer.”

“I said what I said.”

“C’mon, you two,” Kono grins, squeezing their hands on the table. “Chin, what are you thinking?”

“When’s the last time you heard from Doris?”

Steve snorts out an incredulous laugh and answers, “When she got on that private jet a few years ago. She’s never met Y/N. Hell, she doesn’t even know she’s a grandmother now.” He shakes his head at that realization, gnawing at his bottom lip as he considers Chin’s line of thinking. “I’m gonna call Joe. You guys keep working through these files, okay?”

The older man answers on the ninth ring, his voice thick with sleep when he says, “Son, you have any idea what time it is where I am?”

Glancing at the digital clock at the nurses’ station, Steve replies curtly, “Four forty-seven in the morning. Where’s Doris, Joe?”

Steve can hear shuffling on the other end of the phone, and he can picture Joe sitting up in bed, trying to figure out an artful lie. “What’s going on, Steve?”

“There are at least eleven dead bodies at my house right now,” he says by way of an answer.

“Are you sure they were looking for your mother?”

“This wasn’t some intruder block party at the McGarrett household,” Steve snaps, ire overpowering his immense respect for the man whom he considers to be his second father. “They were in tactical gear with heavy weaponry and a clear target. This wasn’t just an op, it was a hit.”

“Christ,” Joe breathes out. “Are you alright, son?”

“No, I’m not,” he answers honestly, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Y/N’s in the hospital.”

There’s some shuffling again, louder this time. Steve can tell he’s getting dressed before he declares, “I’m on my way.”

__________

Joe’s baritone voice sounds garbled as it floats over to Steve’s ears like he’s stuck underwater, and the brunette sits up with a start, realizing he inadvertently dozed off while awaiting his mentor’s arrival. Kono places a paper cup with steam wafting out of it beside him, and he looks up at her gratefully. “I was just about to wake you.”

“Kono, hey,” Steve starts softly, reaching across their makeshift work desk to take her hand. “I just- I want you to know how grateful I am. For introducing me to Y/N and then giving me the push to-”

“Don’t,” she whispers emphatically, fighting back tears. “Save it for your reception, okay?”

He nods, sharing a bittersweet smile with your childhood best friend, before taking a fortifying sip of caffeine and heading towards Joe who’s being briefed by Danny. He pulls Steve into an uncharacteristically lengthy hug, then steps back with a sigh. “Son, there’s something you need to know. Your mother-”

“-never left the island,” Steve finishes the thought for him, spotting a concerned Doris rounding the corner into the waiting area. Then the other shoe drops, an all-too-familiar face stepping out from behind his mother.

“What the fuck?” Danny hisses under his breath at the sight of the two women arriving together.

“Steven,” Doris starts with a sympathetic click of her tongue, arms outstretched as she approaches her eldest. She stops short at the look in his eyes and the tight clench of his jaw. His rage is palpable, and the image of his hands around Doris’ throat flashes unbidden behind his closed eyelids. “They had plans of our house,” he says, his voice barely audible. “They took the handle of the basement door off so we had nowhere to go.”

If his mother is wondering who the we is, she’s doing an excellent job of hiding it. Her shadow, on the other hand, voices the question out loud. “Who was with you?” she asks, concerned. “Are you hurt?”

“My fiancée,” Steve spits out, trying and failing to tamp down the venom dripping from his words.

“I didn’t-” Tears brim in Doris’ eyes and Steve forces himself to look away. “I had no idea, Steven. I’m so sorry.”

“Of course you didn’t know,” he laughs sadly. Meeting his mother’s gaze once more, he says, “You shouldn’t be here. You need to lay low in a safe house until we figure out who’s running this op.”

“You need to play it safe, too, Steve,” the younger brunette speaks up. “Come with us.”

“Cath-” Her name catches in his throat like the shards of glass still taking up residence in the cracks along his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then we’re staying here with you,” Doris says with a sense of finality. “At least until she's out of surgery.”

“Y/N.”

“What, Steven?”

Doleful eyes look up to meet his mother’s, the mix of blue and hazel in her irises an exact reflection of his own. “Her name is Y/N.”

__________

The first rays of sunlight stream through the cracks in the blinds into your hospital room, casting an almost angelic glow on your sleeping face. Steve would find the sight absolutely picturesque if his eyes weren’t laser focused on the steady rise and fall of your chest, terrified that every breath you take could be your last.

The bullet lodged in a tertiary bronchus of Y/N’s left superior lung lobe, just shy of the cardiac notch, your surgeon had explained to him. We were able to safely remove a portion of her lung, and we didn’t see any bullet fragments penetrate the pericardium, the sac around the heart. She’ll have to take it slow and avoid strenuous activity, especially with the rib fractures healing, but we anticipate a full recovery in due time. Steve had done some extensive Google searching following his conversation with the surgeon, but an article detailing the amount of hemorrhage that could occur from damage to intercostal vessels had his skin feeling hot and sticky again, and he forced himself to stop.

The flurry of activity in the recovery ward outside your room is muffled by the drone in his ears, interrupted every so often by the steady beeping of your monitors, proof that you’re still alive. Leaning his elbows against jittery knees, he presses his clasped hands to his forehead and finally breaks the silence. “So… the CIA, huh?”

Catherine sighs, running her fingers through her hair before saying, “I would’ve told you if I could.”

“I see why they assigned you to Doris,” Steve huffs quietly. “You both have the same penchant for half-truths.”

“Steven-” his mother starts, but he cuts her off with a withering glance.

“The least you could’ve done, the very least, was warn me to be on my guard.”

“And what would you have done differently?”

“Reinforce the house. Have Y/N stay with Danny. I don’t know what I would’ve done, because you didn’t give me an option.” He rubs his face roughly and takes a deep breath, trying to ward off the crushing weight of exhaustion. “Look, uh, Y/N’s going to be fine, so you guys really should get going. Get someplace safe.”

The two women nod, standing and gathering their things. Catherine steps out into the hallway, but Doris lingers at the threshold of your room, turning back to her son with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Steven,” she whispers, her voice cracking on his name. “I thought- I thought if I went back to the only thing I was ever good at, I could keep you safe.”

He rises from his chair to meet her in the doorway and pulls her into a tight embrace, years of questions left unanswered and moments missed passing between them in the span of a few seconds. “That’s not the only thing you were good at, Mom,” he divulges quietly.

She cups his cheek in her hand, and Doris can see the little boy she left behind peek through the hardened exterior of her adult son when he leans into her touch. “When this is all over, I’ll come see you, okay? I want to get to know my daughter-in-law.” I want to get to know you, she thinks sadly, deciding it’s better to keep that thought inside for now. “Stay safe, Steven.”

He nods. “You too, Mom.”

He follows her out into the hallway, calling out for Catherine who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. Jogging down the hall to make up the distance, Steve stops in front of his long-time lover, ex, and almost-wife. “Thank you,” he says awkwardly, now unsure of why he even stopped her from leaving. “For watching out for my mom,” he clarifies.

“Of course,” Cath responds. “She’s family.”

“Right, well, uh-” He sniffs and scratches the back of his neck. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Steve.”

He turns to head back to your room, but Catherine’s hand on his arm stops him. “She wrote to me,” the brunette blurts out in a confession. “Y/N, she- she wrote to me, and I found it in my old inbox a few months back.” Her eyes are glassy when she continues, “She, um, thanked me for being there for you all those years before she came into the picture. And the way she talks about you, Steve, God, she really loves you.” Steve drops his gaze to the ground, overcome with emotion, and nods. “Y/N told me about the ring, too.”

His head whips up at that, concern flooding his ocean blue eyes. “Cath-”

“It’s okay, really. I’m glad she told me.” They’re silent for a few moments, then Catherine says, “Look, Steve, just because I’m not in your life anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. And Y/N… it’s so clear that she loves you. That she’s good for you.”

“For the first time in my life,” Steve reveals quietly, “I know what it feels like to be chosen. For the first time in my life, I feel like a priority.”

“You should be a priority, Steve. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be happy with her.” Catherine presses a delicate kiss to his stubbled cheek, and it feels distinctly like a final goodbye. “See you around, sailor.”

She turns and continues down the hall, but Steve has lived a life filled with one too many unanswered questions. “Cath?” he calls after her. “What would you have said? If I had asked, what would you have said?”

Catherine smiles at him, a bittersweet smile that holds years of love, friendship, and fond memories. “I would’ve said ‘yes’, Steve.”

__________

A few days later, you’re enjoying a small, simple breakfast a la McGarrett that tastes like a Michelin star meal compared to the hospital food you’ve been forcing down since waking up from your surgery. “An omelet has never tasted this good,” you moan happily around another bite, and Steve grins at you. “I hope you still feel that way when we get you back home.”

The mention of home has your smile faltering as you recall the destruction that ensued on that fateful night. “Do we still…” You hesitate, unsure of how to phrase your question delicately. “Can we go back home?”

“We’re fixing the place up for you as we speak, babe,” Danny jumps in, sharing a quick look with his best friend. The crime scene cleanup crew had done a stellar job over the past two days, but Steve was insisting on pulling up and replacing the entire kitchen floor, claiming a remodel was past due anyway. No one had the heart to tell him they knew exactly why he couldn’t look at the old linoleum tiles.

“You guys are the best,” you gush. “I was worried we would have to move.”

“No, baby, are you kidding me?” Steve tuts. “Mary and I were raised in that house, and we’re gonna raise little McGarretts of our own there, too.”

“Don’t tell me I have to deal with more of you,” Danny groans, and you laugh before your entire left side smarts and you suck in air through your teeth.

“Danny!” Steve admonishes, and you’re quick to soothe his ruffled feathers.

“Are you two upsetting my favorite patient?” Your lovely nurse, Lani, narrows her eyes playfully at your boys as she enters the room, making notes in your chart of your fluid rate and vitals on the monitor.

“No, ma’am,” they answer in unison, and she huffs at them skeptically. Turning her attention to you, she asks, “How are you feeling today, sweetheart?”

“Less pain, more so discomfort. My stitches are starting to get itchy like you said they would.” She nods and hums sympathetically, then smiles and says, “That means you’re healing.”

“Does that mean I can take a real shower today?”

“Nice try,” she laughs, adjusting the pillow you’re leaning against. “Not quite yet. But Mina will be in soon to take care of you, dear.”

With a pout you ask, “You’re leaving me?”

“You’ll be discharged by the time I start my next shift,” Lani answers, squeezing your shoulder in a sweet gesture. “And Commander McGarrett?” She turns to him, one eyebrow quirked, and the SEAL sits up at attention. “We don’t want to see you in here for at least a year, okay?”

As Steve nods dutifully, Danny jokes, “I mean, really, you oughtta give this guy a punchcard or something at this point. Nine sets of stitches and the tenth one’s free, huh?”

Shaking her head, she calls, “Goodbye, you two. Get well soon, Y/N, dear!”

“What a gem,” you smile, “I love her.”

Danny stands with a soft grunt and announces his departure, too. “Gotta collect my monkeys and drop them off at school,” he explains, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll bring the kids by later and make sure this guy hasn’t bored you to tears, yeah?”

“You’re a real comedian, Detective Williams,” Steve yells as he leaves, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s ribbing. You reach your hand out towards your fiancé and wiggle your fingers, gesturing for him to come closer. Your EKG lines only allow you to stretch so far, and you fall back against the pillows with a huff. “I don’t like hospitals, Steve.”

“I know,” he responds sympathetically, coming to sit on the edge of your bed and brushing some loose hairs off your forehead.

“I don’t like having all these wires and tubes connected to every inch of my body.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“And I hate having to ask for help. Not even being able to bathe myself? Hard pass. It makes me feel useless.”

“Y/N-”

“And the last time we were in this place, the roles were reversed and I was so terrified that you weren’t gonna wake up and-”

“Honey, baby, angel, light of my life,” he cuts you off gently, squeezing your cheeks between his large hands, “would you just- would you take a breath for me? Nice and easy, just like that,” he instructs, breathing with you. “Thank you so much.”

“Was that your polite way of telling me to shut up?” You smile lovingly up at him, angling your head to press a kiss to each of his palms.

“I would never-” He molds his lips to your forehead. “-ever-” Another kiss. “-do such a thing.”

“Perish the thought,” you snort. “Will you snuggle with me, babe?”

He glances down at the bed, appraising. “Are we both gonna fit?”

You pout at him, dramatically jutting out your bottom lip. “I make it work when you’re in here.”

“You don’t pull your punches, future Mrs. McGarrett,” he laughs warmly, wedging his large frame beside you in the comedically small bed.

You hum contentedly as his arm settles around you, resting gently on your injured side. “Who said I’m taking your last name?”

“Ouch,” he mock cries, hand going to his heart. “Another direct hit.”

“I’m not done yet,” you declare, and he challenges, “Oh yeah? What else you got?”

“My scar is gonna be cooler than all of yours combined.”

His fingers trace delicate patterns along your side and he scoffs, “Is not.”

“Is, too!”

“Who’s gonna be the judge, huh?”

“All of our friends.”

“Nu uh,” he shakes his head. “Unfair advantage. You’ll get bonus pity points.”

“We’ll take pictures. Make it a blind experiment.”

“You’re on, Mrs. McGarrett.”

“What did I just say to you?”

“My last name’s cooler. You’ll come around.”

“You’re so annoying, Steve.”

“I know.”

“But I love you.”

“…I kn- Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I love you, too! Stop pinching me, you cheeky little- How do you have the energy to do this right now?“

__________

[A/N: Woo baby this one was a doozy, but I’m actually really proud of it? 🥹 Writing this gave me anxiety and then big sad and then big smile for my goofy baby Steve, I hate myself fr. This has been sitting in my drafts inspired by snippets of various episodes of the show because, let’s face it, writing myself into one Steven Jack McGarrett’s life is my guilty pleasure. I love this man sm and I wanted to explore his more emotional side as opposed to the tough and sarcastic version of Steve we’re used to. I hope you enjoyed this lil piece that’s been living rent free in my head for months now 🖤 Also...peep the Macbeth reference 💅🏽✨]

#steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett x female reader #steve mcgarrett x you #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine #h50 #doris mcgarrett #hurt/comfort #angst with comfort #angst and hurt/comfort

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spacecowboyhotch · 5 months

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Blossoms & Whiskers

prompt: painting

pairing: jake lockley x f!reader

contents: anxiety, a couple kisses, avoidant love confessions

wc: 1.1k

an: the first of hopefully many promotional fics for the @moonknight-events’ bingo @juneknight & i have going on right now. DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

As soon as you enter the flat you know who’s fronting. There’s the faint smell of paint wafting through the space and the covered canvas that Jake keeps easeled in the living room is gone. The window to the fire escape is open and there’s a mason jar full of murky water in your view. His hand appears, dipping and swirling the brush.

“Jake?” You yell as you kick off your shoes and hang up your light jacket.

“Out here. I’ll be in in 20,” He calls back distractedly through the window, hand disappearing.

You’d never seen Jake paint, it was something he’d picked up in the last few months and something preferred to do on his own, like many other things in his life. But, you always like to imagine the expression on his face. Brown eyes under a furrowed brow, intense and scrutinizing as always. His nose scrunched in concentration, the tip of tongue sticking out the corner of his full mouth like it does when the two of you play Jenga. The lines he paints are as sharp and precise as the lines of his body.

You peg him for a structured modernist, dependent on clear contrast and definite shapes. One day you hope to no longer guess, you hope that he’ll share even the smallest bit of his art with you.

You decide to take a quick shower and put on a kettle for some tea. By the time he’s slinking through the window carefully with the canvas, you’re curled up on the couch with a book. His eyes linger on you, enjoying how incredibly cozy you look.

“Took longer than expected,” He explains as he sets the painting back on the easel, turning it away from you.

You don't look up when you respond, “It's alright, honey. Cover it up and come snuggle.”

Jake is quiet for a handful of moments, unmoving. Finally he says, “It's finished.”

Your eyes freeze on the page, but you don’t move. Your interest in piqued. “Oh?”

“It’s for you. I’d like you to see it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask gently.

“I’m sure. Always sure about you,” He adds his voice is still quiet, but firm.

You grin, throwing your book on the floor as you stand, uncaring about what page you were on. Jake was sharing this with you. For a moment you wonder if he’s shared this with Marc or Steven at all– they’d mentioned giving his privacy. But if he was sharing this with you, certainly he’d shared it with them.

“Eyes closed,” He instructs, and you quickly follow suit. “Good girl.”

With your eyes covered, you can hear your own breath more clearly, hear the quiet drag of the easel against the wood floor. Hear his quiet, even steps.

His hands come to rest on your waist, and you feel his mouth brush the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Open for me.”

You open your eyes to rows upon rows of your favorite flower. The sun hangs low in the sky, just beginning to dip below the horizon, a few clouds dotting around. It’s much brighter than you ever imagined. Jake is a conglomerate of neutrals and darks, leather and basics. To see so much color, such an obvious lightness from his own hands stuns you. As you take more in, you see a black cat frolicking through the stems, batting at one of the flowers. Its eyes shine mischievously.

It’s your turn to fall quiet, your eyes whisking over the canvas time and time again, drinking in all you can.

“Don’t comment too quickly,” He says dryly, his hands squeezing your hips.

“Oh, Jake, its beautiful,” You breathe softly, taking a small step forward to examine it in further detail, wanting to see each and every stroke.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, that comfortable warmth that you bring to his chest multiplying tenfold. “You think so?” He asks, trying to sound noncommittal.

“I know so. Is this cat supposed to be ours?” You point to it, grinning up at him. He’d mentioned his want for cat a few times, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until the lease was up so that you all could move to a pet friendly place.

Jake hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to you before they return to the canvas. Jake was the last of the boys to come around. Your relationship is the newest, and though it is no less sweet, no less passionate sometimes he struggles to be open with you. You’re patient, knowing that every piece of the man standing beside you is worth waiting for.

“It's supposed to be me,” He admits quietly.

“You?”

“The cat is me, and everything else…is you.”

“Me?”

He grows quiet again, trying to figure out what to say. He so desperately wants you to understand. You gaze up at him, watching as he mulls things over, gathering up the words to tell you what this all means to him. What you mean to him.

“Its me, basking in everything that is you. You love the sunset, you love pointing out shapes in the clouds. You love these flowers. There’s more there, more intention that I could explain. But I hope that one day, the cat, that you’ll—“ He stops, realizing that he’d got too carried away. He was about to show all his cards.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I do. I do already, Jake. It’s easy.”

His gaze grows more intense as he studies you, searching for any dishonesty. There’s not a drop in your eyes. “Me too.”

Jake didn’t know it could be this easy. Sure neither of you have said the words outright, but he can feel it in the way you look at him right now. You lean in, closing the gap between you to press a soft kiss to his mouth before, one he gets lost in. And when you pull away, you simply turn back to the painting. Your hands reach out, fingers wiggling and his hand darts out, grasping yours.

“It’s still wet,” He reminds you, squeezing your hand gently before he lets it go.

“Right, sorry,” You murmur sheepishly.

All of this has you feeling a little shy— held but with hands that are afraid you’ll break. You could ask him to say it, you could say it yourself but you know that things are the slowest with him. Sometimes you have to treat him like the cat he’s painted. He’ll spook easily, retreating into solitude.

You tuck the idea of asking for more in your back pocket. Another time. Instead you ask, “So…where are we hanging it?”

Jake relaxes. He knows your thinking face, could see you weighing the pros and cons. It feels good to know how you feel about him and even better to know how well you know him.

He drops a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the fireplace. “I was thinkin’ here.”

“I’ll go get those sticky strip thingies,” You say, marching towards the closer that holds everything from spare linens, holiday decorations and yes— sticky strip thingies.

“Command strips,” Jake corrects you, snorting softly under his breath.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight fanfiction #moonknightevents #arson writes

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fayfayrxx · 6 months

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐅. 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭: It's your senior year at Hollywood Arts, and Prome is coming up. You're hanging out with your friend group after rehearsal, before suddenly, Andre asks you out, and your so-called "enemy" blows up in jealousy.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: enemies - lovers fluff/slight angst

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: enemies to lovers, cursing, yelling, angsty Jade ;)

"Y/n doesn't have a date to Prome..." Cat would point out, Robbie's arm around her shoulders. Of course, she didn't mean it in a rude way, but ouch, that hurt. I mean, Robbie had a date! You would roll your eyes. "Whatever, I can still go and have fun, right? I mean, I can hang out with you... right, Tori?" You would ask, your voice becoming slightly nervous.

Tori would sigh, sympathy on her face. "I'm sorry Y/n, but I'll be performing, I won't have much time to hang out with you..." She'd say, genuine sympathy in her voice. You would groan, burying your face in your hands. Suddenly, the voice of your childhood best friend would cause your head to shoot up.

"Hey, I'll go with you Y/n." Andre would cooly say, in a tone that felt reassuring, as he always was to you. You would smile, opening your mouth to speak before you were cut off by a rather opposing voice, one that instantly shot down your happiness.

"No, you won't. It's only Y/n's fault she doesn't have a date." Jade would say. She was leaning on the wall, observing her fingers, picking off the already chipped black polish on her short nails. Your eyebrows would instantly furrow. "What's your issue, Jade? Just because Beck broke up with you, I shouldn't be the victim of your anger!" You would snap back, which obviously shocked the dark-haired girl.

Andre did his best to pause this before it got more intense, "Woah there ladies, let's cool this down before-"

"Beck did NOT break up with me! I broke up with HIM! And I could care less about whether you have a date or not!" Jade would yell, her whole body stiffening. You would simply stare at her, saying nothing, as you knew she would easily be able to carry this conversation- or whatever it was- solely on her anger. She would scoff. "I'm leaving." She'd say after a pause, much to your surprise. And she did in fact, leave. She'd storm out of Sikowitz's room, slamming the door behind her, causing Cat to flinch.

"I'll get her." Tori would sigh as she stood before Robbie would suddenly speak. "Maybe... don't?" He'd suggest nervously. Tori would look at Andre, and he would nod. It was known that Jade just really didn't like Tori. "I will. Wish me luck." You'd finally decide, standing up. You'd brush off your jeans, before exiting the room.

You'd quietly walk the empty halls of HA before you came across the janitor's closet, which had its door slightly open. You'd take a deep breath, before approaching the closet, and slowly opening the door, to surely find a crying Jade, her face in her palms as she leaned against the corner of the closet. You weren't sure why, but it felt as if your heart was being tugged in all different directions.

"Jade?" You'd say softly, leaning down, seeing her back shake as she sobbed quietly. You'd bite your lip as you sat down right in front of her, yet keeping a foot or so of space, just in case she was to do something violent. You never knew with her.

"What do you want?" She'd choke out quietly, not showing her face. Her black torn jeans and combat boots looked much less intimidating than they were five minutes ago. You would sigh, and clasp your hands together.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright. I wanted to know what triggered you and made you upset, so I can know to avoid it later-"

"I love you, Y/n." Jade would suddenly say, cutting you off as she raised her head, her face stained with mascara trails and smudged eyeliner. "That's what made me upset. That I couldn't fucking get it together and ask you out and now I'm mad that anyone else could possibly think about it." She'd say, her voice monotone, yet stern despite the few sobs between her words.

You froze. You felt your face heat up as you listened to her speak. It had always been obvious that there was something between you and her, something when you looked at each other with cold eyes that made the both of you heat up, something that caused you both to get nervous whenever you had to act as a couple for a show. You always knew you had some kind of feelings for West, but you always minimized them to just hatred and annoyance. Now you realize it was more.

"Jade..." You'd say softly. You'd quickly embrace the other in your arms. She would start crying again, heavier now, as you allowed her to sob into your chest. Luckily, you wore a black shirt today, but you wouldn't mind the stains either way. You'd run your fingers through her black and blue hair, as you'd breathe slowly in an attempt to soothe the other. "Jade, can you look at me?" You'd say, in your same soft tone.

Jade would slowly raise her head, looking at you with those eyes. Those eyes. The ones that were soft, warm, and deep when she let them be. You felt yourself tearing up as you gently rubbed her back.

"Be my date to Prome, Okay?" You'd say with a soft smile. Jade's lip would quiver, a single tear cascading down her face.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you want to be seen dancing with me?"

"Yes, more than anything."

"Okay."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: AHH THANK U SM FOR READINGG <3 !!

I really appreciate it!! I haven't written in a LOONNNNG time but I've been having Victorious brainrot 4 weeks now. I hope you liked this, and PLEASE let me know if there's any plots you would like me to write for yall <3 - Fable

#victorious #wlw #sapphic #jade west #jade #jade x reader #jade west x reader #lesbian #fanfic #ao3 #fluff

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kinnporsche · 4 months

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hey guys, long time no kinn & porsche fic rec list! i miss these two so much it’s not even remotely funny. as always, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to share the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love! god bless y’all for my daily allotment of serotonin. [part 8/?]

— the empty crown by rainbowcolored7 – explicit / 106.3k words (wip)

Porsche was destined to rule his kingdom, but the throne and his family were taken from him, forcing him and his brother into hiding.

Kinn chose to rule to save his family from the untouchable threat of the Council who strictly guard the power of the Source.

When their worlds collide, everything changes. Hidden plans tumble into motion, enemies become allies and, above all, love conquers.

— you were there, written in my stars by bleakyblues – explicit / 70.5k words (wip)

Kinn is your everyday, ordinary guy. Well, as ordinary as the heir to the country’s underworld can be. But the point still stands. Kinn goes to school, helps his Pa with his work, hangs out with his friends and has a huge crush on his ‘good friend’ whom he is ‘not-dating’ (yet).

Enter Porsche Pachara Kittisawat with all the grace and stubbornness of a class five hurricane. And Kinn is lost, lost, lost... caught up in the winds never to emerge again.

— freedom is a sound/pleasure is a right ‘series by baby_droll – explicit / 31k words

Kinn stares at him, and then up at the ceiling, and then back at Porsche.

“Have you considered being professional even a day in your life,” he says, sitting back down in his desk chair and rolling away enough to get some space, “I mean really and truly, do you know what it looks like, barging into my office,” Porsche cuts him off, mouthing along to his spiel, mainly because he’s heard it before, “sitting on my desk, interrupting meetings, and acting like, Porsche, people are going to think things, things you and your shiny visa can’t afford to have them thinking. things that me and my giant internship program can’t afford for them to think—”

(Or: Kinn and Porsche meet, kiss, fall in love. Only one problem—Kinn is his PhD advisor, and there’s more than a few rules about them being together.)

— the bachelor by blue_grama – mature / 25.9k words

It’s Pete who explains, the next morning over breakfast, because of course the news has spread all over the compound. “Haven’t you ever watched a mob movie?” He asks Porsche, gesticulating with a spoon. “They have all the money they could ever need, but they can never get respectability. The old-money types look down on them. The new-money types take their bribes, but they don’t let them into the inner circle. This is public relations.”

“A kinder, gentler mob?” Porsche laughs. “Come on.”

“They’ll use it to look nonthreatening, highlight the legitimate businesses, that sort of thing,” Pete says. He lowers his voice. “Everyone knows the Theerapanyakuls are dirty, but if they’re on television, how dirty can they be, right? And… I don’t know, but Khun Korn is strange about Khun Kinn’s love life. Maybe he’s trying to keep him in line somehow.”

— i’m not a saint, but i pay like a sinner by haeseolar – explicit / 25.4k words

“I’m not sure how a lowly human like you called me, but here I am,” His voice is deep, but not gruff or harsh like he was expecting. Porsche doesn’t have many preconceptions about demons as a whole, but everything he holds is being completely turned upside down and thrown out the window.

“Who are you?” Porsche croaks out, somehow finding his voice.

The demon’s eyes sharpen as he speaks, the slitted black pupils contracting and opening again like a cat’s. It’s just as fascinating as it is unnerving.

“You’re the one that called my name,” He shrugs, gesturing around the room flippantly.

“Anakinn,” Porsche says, the name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “You’re Anakinn.”

— scale and bone by ahdriking – explicit / 25.2k words (wip)

Fairy tales aren’t real. There are no happy endings. These are the truths Kinn knows.

Ever since stepping into power, Kinn has been suspicious of the Russians—led by Mikhail Alexeyev—operating in Bangkok, suspecting them of stealing from him. He sends Kim to investigate, and the truth turns out to be much worse than his initial fears. He resolves to destroy them, even at the risk of all out war; he can do no less if he wants to avoid appearing weak.

It starts with reconnaissance at Alexeyev’s party, an event promising a ‘grand spectacle.’ Kinn is expecting something appropriately depraved, suitable for the Russian mobster and his tastes, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of what Alexeyev has been hiding. Nothing could have prepared him for the way it will change his life forever.

Because fairy tales aren’t real.

Until they are.

— moonchild (we’re born in the moonlight) by wicca – explicit / 24.1k words

“Let me walk you home, then,” Kinn offers, recalling the recent accidents and all the superstitions he’d heard about the forest ever since he was a boy. “Even if you live close by, these woods can get dangerous. You should always get home before nightfall.”

“Trust me,” Porsche smiles, teeth sharp and brown eyes glittering an almost golden hue under the late afternoon light. “I’ll be fine.”

He lets Kinn walk him home anyway.

— desire is so different when god bore you hungry ‘series by captainkit – explicit / 20.6k words

“Let’s get out of here,” whispered Kinn. His eyes were so very kind. Porsche wanted to keel over with the hunger gnawing at his bones. The kindness in his eyes made him ache a little more.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Starvation was an old friend of Porsche’s.

— force of attraction by nuwildcat – explicit / 14.3k words

Gravity (noun): the universal force of attraction acting between all matter.

Porsche never was the best student in school. She’ll be the first to admit that hands on lessons were always the ones that best made things ‘stick’ for her.

Porsche isn’t certain she wants to know whatever lesson Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul is trying to teach her. The problem is, resisting Kinn is like trying to stop a force of nature: impossible.

— if i go too far by p1n3appl3_p3n – explicit / 13.9k words

Kinn and Porsche are friends that fuck, and it’s totally fine until it isn’t.

— red-handed by martynax – explicit / 12.3k words

“Hello, gentlemen,” Porsche finally manages to find his voice and is proud of himself that he comes off as cool and collected. He doesn’t really feel like it, but as long as no one is pointing a gun at him, he can roll with whatever. He’s good at bullshitting his way out of tough situations. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The corner of the stranger’s mouth ticks up in amusement, eyes taking in Porsche’s silhouette. It’s a slow once-over that makes Porsche’s skin tingle.

The stranger takes a slow sip of the whiskey, tipping the glass elegantly and smacks his lips after he swallows. “It’s not bad.”

“Want a refill?” Porsche proposes, waving his hand at the almost empty tumbler while he slowly starts approaching the couch. He feels awkward just standing there. The two guys in black suits tense up, but make no move to stop him. Not giving his unwelcome guest time to answer, he adds, “I’ll do you one better, I make a mean cocktail. How about I make you one?”

“Such a kind host,” the man muses, titling his head as he observes Porsche. “Do your best, little thief.”

— all of me (is all for you) by kurtstiel – explicit / 10k words

The water has saturated Porsche’s white shirt completely, soaking through the vest beneath. The translucent material clings obscenely to the swell of his pecs. His nipples are clearly visible through the sheer material, hard and pebbled, with the unmistakable shape of the metal barbells pierced either side of them.

Porsche’s head jerks up to check if he can still hide them from Kinn, but it’s already too late. Kinn is standing across the room, staring in Porsche’s direction, entire body coiled tight like a spring.

(Or: While Kinn is away on a business trip, Porsche gets his nipples pierced as a surprise for their anniversary. Kinn comes home earlier than Porsche expected.)

— whatever else that touches you by technicallyverycowboy – explicit / 9.4k words

“No, it’s fine.” Porsche shifts to be a little less plastered against Kinn’s side, straightens his shoulders and smooths out his jacket with great dignity. “The answer to your question is yes, I have really never been with any other men.”

(Or: Porsche answers questions, asks some of his own, tries new things, and fills in the knowledge gaps of his own sexuality.)

— i’ve been waiting for you, to slip back in bed by dearsidewalk – explicit / 5.5k words

Porsche is sound asleep on their bed, the cityscape casting a soft, warm glow against his skin, dipping and arching with his silhouette. Kinn sags, hands falling to his side, but that itch hasn’t faded—that heaviness in his chest, stomach, and throat multiplies, malignant and spreading, and in a blink of an eye, he’s at Porsche’s side.

— the sweetest thing on this side of hell by butterflylungs – explicit / 3.3k words

Being vulnerable with Kinn is always a dangerous game: she never knows when it’s going to be thrown in her face. After the forest, she thought—well. But Kinn had given her to Vegas, cold and stone-faced from her perch on the couch, still attached to an IV line after taking a fucking bullet for her.

#kinnporschsource #kinnporsche: the series #kinnporsche #kinn x porsche #fic rec #leila.txt #text #leave some kudos!

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pandorasfavorite · 2 months

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Man-Child

AN: I JUST THOUGHT A THOUGHT

No one pissed you off more than Dominik Fucking Mysterio. He was the most irritating and cocky person you know. Therefore, you'd do anything to punch him in the mouth, like actually anything. But instead of living out your fantasy, you are forced to work with him and listen to the way he shoots off at the mouth.

Dominik's feet are kicked up on the coffee table and his hands are behind his head. Something about him bothered you more than you could withstand, so yea maybe you were a bitch to him from time to time. "Could you get your feet off the table? People eat there", you mutter from your faraway spot on the same couch. Dominik whips his head around to look at you, so quickly his hair smacks him in the face. But just as you expected, he raises his eyebrows and lets the aggrogant look grace his face. He leans further back into the couch and pushes his feet farther on the table, the annoying squeak of shoes making your face go red in anger.

You scoff and turn your body towards him, "You're a real dick, you know?". His mouth quirks up as if he is close to smiling at your displeasure with him. However after a few seconds, it formed a smirk, "You make it so fun", he counters. AHHHH YOU COULD SCREAM. You propel a few inches closer to him on the couch, his stretched-out body not giving you much space in the first place. The rest of the Judgement Day is groaning and sighing, because this is a everyday encounter. Both you and Dominik couldn't get over this barrier of dislike for one another. You glare at Dominik, it seems like you are peering into his soul. You try to get out your fury-filled words but your mouth only opens and closes as you feel the words on the tip of your tongue.

Dominik has the same smug face and there were just a few seconds before something would come tumbling out of his big mouth. "Cat got your tongue chica?", he sticks out his tongue playfully. Yea. That was your last straw. Dominik Mysterio has officially figure-skated on your last nerve. You lunge at Dominik, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him with you off the couch. "What the fu-!", Dominik begins to yell only for it to be cut off short by your bodies crashing to the floor. You can hear the ruckus from Judgement Day as they yell at you both to cut it out. You and Dominik are rolling around on the floor trying to get the upper hand, Dominik yells out trying to prove his innocence. "She tackled me!", he hollers and grabs above your waist.

You were rightfully pissed but Dominik has always been stronger than you, so after you had your run of rolling around on the floor. Dominik grabbed you by the hips and picked you up off of the center of his stomach where you were sitting and smacking his chest. He sat you down on the floor beside him, he was so exhausted from the struggle he laid back down to catch his breath. He is panting and every so often glancing back at you; each time you see the way his lip twitches up in an almost smile.

"Is this going to be a problem, guys? Do we actually have to separate two adults?", Rhea asks in her commanding and motherly tone. Dominik sits up and stares at you, his teeth poking through as he smiles hugely. "I think we'll be fine", he claims while running a hand through his long hair. You cross your arms and stare back at him all the same, "Speak for yourself Mysterio" you grit under your breath.

He gives you an annoyed look, the one where his eyes are low and his mouth is just barely hanging open. For some reason it was endearing... or cute. You were fucked.

#dominik mysterio fanfiction #dom dom #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik my bbg #dominik mysterio #wwe #monday night raw #rhea riley #friday night smackdown #i need him biblically

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thosewickedlovelies · 1 month

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Conversation Pit | Dieter Bravo x afab!Reader

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: You’re viewing a mansion with Dieter, and it has a conversation pit. Does he have the discipline to keep his hands to himself?

Tags: friends with benefits, SMUT: Dieter’s favorite dom appears 👀 could it be someone we know?; mmf threesome, piv sex, semipublic sex but don’t worry, edging (m receiving), references to sex work

Word count: 4,112

Note: Listen. This fic was supposed to be conversation pit fucking and then it evolved into something else. I did not do her justice. I’ll come back to you baby.

This is the same universe as Coping Mechanisms. There's no plot connecting the two fics, but I recommend reading it if you want more sexy Dieter smut 😏😌

Masterlist

“It feels like a little much,” you say. Your neck aches from craning to look up at the many elevated features of this house. Or rather, this mansion. The sprawling, avant-garde chandelier in the foyer. The ocean-themed mosaics undulating across the domed ceiling of a bathroom. An enormous space lined with hanging walkways and tunnels and little nesting spots, for who knows how many cats.

This latest hallway is nice, though. Rustic wood beams pass overhead at a more average height, providing a sort of cozy, normal feeling for the first time since you entered. Here’s hoping they lead to a similar design style in the next room.

“I dunno, I kinda like it.” Dieter slings an arm around your shoulders. “Lots of walls to paint, you know? I could make it my own.”

“True,” you concede. “There are way more rooms than I was expecting, though. Like maybe more than even you could paint on your own.”

“You’re right about the rooms, actually.” The realtor gives you an sheepish smile over his shoulder. “The owner’s kind of a character- it took some real convincing to get them to send us any pictures at all, so they missed a few things. But they left the house in great shape, right?” He beams winningly.

This realtor has shown you and Dieter a few houses by now. He’s pretty okay for a chummy salesman type. His methods at least included giving you space to think and discuss, which you appreciate.

Not that discussion between you and Dieter was really necessary. He was the one buying a mansion, not you. He just wanted you here for impulse control, and a second opinion. “I trust your judgment,” he’d insisted.

A lopsided smirk overtook his face. “Even with your choice of fuckbuddy.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Dieter had shrugged. “Fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, booty calls. We know what we are.”

“Coping mechanisms?” you added drily.

He’d given you a wounded look- always so effective with those big brown eyes of his. “We can be friends and coping mechanisms.”

You’d laughed at that, and now here you were, touring the quirkiest LA mansion you’d yet seen together this week. Or maybe offbeat was a better word. You didn’t really have any idea how to describe these places. Homes, but also playgrounds of the rich and famous. They’d do the place up how they wanted (or how some expensive designer wanted) and then left the next person to clean up the mess- to paper over whatever was now deemed- *shudder*- out of fashion.

Or to paint over, you muse, thinking of Dieter’s impromptu artistic urges.

“Now, you may think you’ve seen the showstoppers of this house, but this next room might just make you reconsider.” Standing before a door at the end of the hall, the realtor pushes it open and stands aside with a flourish.

Your mouth drops open.

It didn’t just open up, as the rest of the house seemed to. This room also opens down. The beautiful wood beams do continue overhead, and the entire back wall is windowed, making the space feel both grand and homey at once. Bright sunshine streams in. The glass wall looks out over the backyard, which is less of a backyard than an entire valley, wild and forested, without a trace of the other mansions you’ve been informed are tucked into the hill. On the left wall of the room rises a stone brick fireplace; on the right wall, tall bookshelves. The sandy carpet underfoot looks thick and cozy.

And in the dead center of the room: a conversation pit.

Your mouth falls open again.

Is that even what it’s called? The word has a strange texture in your mind. Yes, a conversation pit; that architectural relic of the 70s. A great round depression, a huge circular couch set right into the floor.

It’s hideous.

Dieter hurtles through the door, down the short staircase, and bounds right into the pit. “Hey, check this out! A conversation pit, sweets! Have you ever been in a house with one of these?”

The realtor is prattling on about the other features of the room, something about adjustable lighting and special outlets.

“I haven’t.” You approach more slowly. The staircase below the door hugs the wall, presumably so that anyone who falls down it doesn’t carom straight into the pit. The carpeting is so luxurious that you almost feel bad about walking on it with shoes.

You carefully descend the two additional steps down to Dieter’s level. “This feels like a safety hazard.”

“Whaat? No way, it’s so cool! Like we’re in some classy old 70s porno.” In an instant Dieter has whirled to face you, grinning, a wily gleam in his eye.

Your eyes widen with what you hope is a forbidding look. “No, Dieter. Absolutely not.”

The realtor’s cell phone trills, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Excuse me, let me just check this.” He fishes it out and answers, and his eyes light up.

“You guys think about the house, okay? I’ll just be a minute.” The realtor heads back up the stairs. “Heya, Brad. No, no, I’m not busy…” He shuts the door behind him.

Dieter pounces.

“Dieter Bravo, you stay right there-”

The pupil in the eye of the pit is a cushy ottoman, which Dieter leaps over with unexpected grace. Your brain and your feet have different ideas on where to go; instead of fleeing, you stumble backward and fall to your ass on the sofa.

“Tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Dieter-”

“This room would be perfect for sex parties.” He’s practically glowing with excitement. He leers down at you, his shapely mouth turning up suggestively.

“D, that happened one time! And it wasn’t even planned, it was only because everyone drank too much of that Romanian liquor that Alexandra’s mom made her.”

The taste of cherries had haunted you for a month afterward. It was nothing like the syrupy-sweet maraschino flavor that smacked of childhood sundaes and red dye 40. This stuff was as black as the fruit itself and tasted of summer at its height, thick and ripe and heady.

Normally you’re not so keen to head off Dieter’s sex-related whims, but something about this moment, this room, feels different. Like your body can sense how little convincing it would take for you to give in.

Like Dieter can sense it.

“But it could happen again.”

Dieter crouches and pulls on something near the floor, and suddenly your feet are propped several inches higher off the ground. You blink, and in a fluid movement Dieter is kneeling between your legs, at the perfect height to put his mouth to your ear.

“Just imagine. You’re sitting here, just like this. I’m sitting here. Just like this.” His hand trails up your thigh. You swallow.

“The lights are low, low enough to see the stars in the sky outside. Maybe we have some music playing. Lying right there are John and Diana.” Dieter nods to the plush carpet inches from your face. “I know you liked watching them last time.”

As if in a dream, your head turns to look where he indicated. Your face heats furiously at the memory of your two attractive friends, and the heavy glances all four of you had shared that night.

“He’s fucking her, slow and easy. She’s watching us while he does. Maybe she’s telling you to join in- to let me make you feel good, like she’s feeling.”

Dieter’s low, husky voice is a potent aphrodisiac, and so is the picture it paints. The taste of cherries seems to coat your tongue. You fight down a little noise of want in the base of your throat, your body tightening and squirming. Your fingers dig into the couch cushions.

“We can invite Samya and Vish again. And maybe Dani and Riley. They’re so hot.” Dieter sighs, briefly indulging in his own fantasy.

Dieter’s hand has settled into a familiar shape- his thumb resting on your clit, but his fingers curled so the knuckles rest where they would normally slip inside you. Where they’d definitely be able to slide in right now. You can’t decide if you should thank or curse your past self for not wearing a skirt this morning.

“Remember how we could hear everyone? No one was hiding or acting shy, just enjoying themselves. Laughing and moaning…” Dieter’s voice drops to a whisper. “Diana was so wet you could hear it every time John thrust into her.”

His lips brush your ear. “And so were you.”

His teeth graze your neck and you can’t stop your moan. He sucks on the sensitive skin just the way you like, his thumb bearing down, and your head drops back.

The bright blue sky brings you back to your senses.

“Dieter!” You squirm away, gasping for air.

He immediately retreats. He remains kneeling on the foot rest as you pull your legs up and together, attempting to regain some composure.

“I think that courtesan part you played went to your head,” you say shakily.

Dieter’s last role had been a four-episode appearance in a new fantasy period show. He’d played a queen’s favorite courtesan in her harem; but upon hearing inklings of a coup, she’d sent him away, leaving the audience with tantalizing hints that he wasn’t just a mere prostitute. The show’s first season had been a huge success, and though it had been renewed for more, the reappearance of Dieter’s character was still only rumor.

Clearly he had picked up a few things from his character. You send him a half admonishing, half grudgingly impressed look.

Seeing that you’re not truly upset, he relaxes. “You like? There’s more where that came from.” Dieter walks his fingers up your calf. He smiles temptingly, his eyes still blown dark and beguiling.

Huffing incredulously, but unable to resist smiling in turn, you shake your head.

“Ookay. I’m just saying, it sounded like our guy was gonna be a while. Especially if Brad is whose PA I think he is.” Dieter shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “Wouldn’t hurt to do a little test run.”

“Dieter Bravo, I am not having sex with you in a house we’re viewing.” You laugh, a bit high despite yourself off the endorphins from Dieter’s fantasy.

You turn and rise, making to clamber right over the back of the couch.

Dieter gasps. “Wait!” All trace of seduction is gone from his voice. You only make it halfway out of the pit, your knees where you’d just been sitting and your hands on the floor beyond the back of the couch.

“Babe, this is the position we’ve been trying to find! Look-” He’s hushed but excited. Dieter scrambles up behind you, his hands appearing on either side of your own, his chest flush with your back. One of his knees further compresses the cushion beneath you. When you twist your head to look, you see that his other foot is leveraged on the footrest.

Dieter groans your name, low and pleading. “Tell me you wore these pants for a reason.”

You gasp as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants. LA weather means loose fitting bottoms, and high waistlines mean cinched elastic instead of button clasps. Dieter has no trouble sliding his hand into your pants and cupping your sex in a way that makes your elbows buckle.

“Dieter, we can’t.”

“Please, sweets, I’ll make you feel good- I won’t even come, this one will just be for you,” he promises. “You know I can be quick.” His voice goes velvety and dark with promise- with reminder.

Damn, but you did know. Dieter was a dedicated study; it didn’t take long before he could make you come faster and in more ways than any partner you ever had. The speed came in handy more often than you’d think. The man was insatiable, and his appetite could flare at any random moment- no matter how inopportune.

His persuasions are working. Your cunt throbs to have his hand so close and yet so far away through the barrier of your panties. You’re already wet from his earlier efforts, and the heavy drape of his body over yours brings your desire howling to life again.

“Hmmm?” Dieter traces a light circle around your clit.

You grit your teeth. The realtor could be back at any second.

Dieter flattens his hand over your cunt, rubbing just so.

Your resolves breaks. “Fuck, fine- but quick,” you implore.

“Oh, this is going to take so long,” you assure him. Dieter moans, helpless to your designs, the binds on his wrists holding fast. “What’s wrong, D? You didn’t seem to care about coming earlier.”

“Please, please let me come. I’ve been so good, your pussy feels so fucking good…” Dieter rambles, sobbing, his eyes rolling back in his head as you sink down on him again, achingly slowly, taking him as deep as you can. Dieter tries to help, his hips surging upward like he can’t get far enough inside you. That could well be the case, given that his ankles are tied together as well.

He moans again.

“Mmn, you’re so pretty like this,” you sigh. Dieter’s chestnut locks are tufted from your grasp and dark with sweat at his temples. Red blooms in his cheeks. His lips are kiss-swollen, teeth-bitten from trying and failing to hold back his cries. His body is thick and strong beneath you, and you attempt to spread your thigh still wider, take that little bit more of him inside you.

Dieter makes a choked sound. He turns his head to the side, desperation all over his face.

It’s been hours since Dieter seduced you into coming around his cock in the conversation pit of the house you were viewing. As promised, he’d been quick- you hardly had time to break a sweat before he brought you that familiar hot rush of release. You needn’t have bothered worrying, though. The realtor took so long on his phone call that your panties had nearly dried out again by the time he returned.

But true to his word, Dieter didn’t come, and you’re pretty sure his hard-on hasn’t flagged once since then. Some part of him had been touching you through the entire rest of the house tour that neither of you had realized was still ahead. He was so worked up he’d canceled lunch at his favorite diner, and then looked agonized when he remembered that you hadn’t taken the car with the privacy screen.

You follow his gaze. “What do you say, Ezra? Should we let him come?”

Dieter’s favorite dom is sitting in an armchair off to the side, observing, loosely guiding, your activities and stroking himself with leisurely enjoyment.

Abandoning his own biology temporarily, Ezra approaches the bed. “A hard decision indeed, gem. But in my professional opinion, I believe that you should come once more before we allow dear Dieter the privilege.” Dieter’s eyes are glazed, bleary with desperation. You’d had one orgasm since the start of this session, but another sounded fine to you.

“Should it be on his cock this time?”

“Hmmm. How would you feel about takin’ your pleasure on my cock first? Darlin’ Dieter got to experience it earlier; this time he can only watch, as a consequence of rushing his partner to the end so crudely.”

Surely that’s a little harsh. “Aww, I wouldn’t say it was crude. I did enjoy it,” you coo at Dieter, stroking his face reassuringly. Relief shines in his face, your words like a sunbeam breaking through the gathering clouds of his sudden anxiety.

“Oh, of course. My apologies; it was not my intention to imply otherwise. Nevertheless…” Ezra reaches over your thighs to give Dieter an apologetic stroke; then he runs his broad palms slowly up your body, Dieter’s eyes following like a starving man before a feast. Maybe like one of those ancient myths he's always drawing inspiration from- who was that one guy? Tantalus. Ezra tweaks your nipples and you shiver atop Dieter’s cock.

It had been your idea to text Ezra. On the car ride home, you’d suggesting upping the stakes, since Dieter had been so naughty in the house. He’d essentially already been edging himself since the conversation pit- why not make it a real challenge? (And maybe a little bit of a punishment, for being so cheeky.) Dieter had looked so torn, you might have asked him to choose between microwave chicken nuggets and taquitos for the rest of his life. But in the end Ezra was free, so you invited him over at three o’clock sharp.

Dieter sounds so anguished as you lift yourself off his cock that you think he might actually cry. You click your tongue. “You heard him, D. Consequences.” You lean down to kiss him, giving Ezra space to climb onto Dieter’s legs behind you.

“Stay there a moment, sweet,” Ezra requests.

Your breasts brush Dieter’s chest, and he automatically tries to lift his torso to meet you, forgetting that your hands are holding down his shoulders. He whines.

“Naughty Dieter, always pushing the rules. Trying to fuck me where other people might see.” You nibble at his neck and ear between murmurs. “Now you’re the one who has to watch.”

Your breath hitches as you feel Ezra’s cock notch at your entrance. “There we are, sweets. Sit back for me now, nice and easy.” His hands guide your hips, and you ease backward onto Ezra’s cock. A breathless moan falls free as you sit up, his length thick and full inside you. So joined, you shuffle forward just a bit- until Dieter’s cock rests against your sex. Dieter’s mouth falls open, mesmerized by the sight. He twitches, the movement brushing your clit, and you whimper.

“Mm, I thought you might like this, gem. If it sounds amenable to you, we’re goin’ to use darlin’ Dieter’s cock to make you come like this, slow enough for you to enjoy every second of it, and then, and only then, are we going to let Dieter come.”

It’s delightfully jarring to feel a cock inside you as well as outside against your clit; despite the pleasure winding heavy along your limbs, you manage to answer. “Perfectly amenable.”

Ezra cups his hand over Dieter’s cock and nestles it between your labia, coating it in your arousal and Dieter’s. The velvety ridges of him rub snugly against your clit- especially as Ezra begins to move. He starts gradually, thrusting into you with just enough force that you rock against Dieter’s dick at the same time.

Oh, fuck. This is more stimulation than you usually get via both methods at once- it won’t take long for you to come like this. You moan in approval.

“Does that feel good, gem?” Ezra asks.

His thrusts aren’t forceful. Rather, they’re constant, unceasing strokes along something inside you that makes your vision blur; and all the while he holds Dieter’s cock against your clit like the perfect toy.

“F-f-ffucking incredible,” you stutter. “Keep going, like that.”

Ezra rumbles in approval. Dieter’s eyes are as round as saucers as he watches his dom pleasure you with both their cocks, and he spills out a steady babble of praise. “Oh fuck, you’re so hot, sweets. Look so good like this. Can use my dick whenever you want…” Every muscle in his body jerks and strains, but whether trying to come or in effort to stop himself coming you can’t tell, and you stop trying as Ezra’s movements pour brain-numbing pleasure directly into your skull and down your spine.

You squirm and sob at the onslaught of stimulation. There’s no escape- not that you really want it. You can feel your peak approaching, a tingling creeping up every limb like vines about to fruit.

“Dieter- Ezra-”

“Ah, the end is nigh, is it, sweet? Go on then, let it come- give us everything you got.”

Ezra’s poetry is obliterated by the roaring in your ears. Something breaks open inside you, spilling bliss through every crack and crevice of your body. You quake and keen in Ezra’s arms. For long, long minutes, it feels like it physically rocks you, pleasure pulsing in an endless flood. Distantly you recognize that it’s Ezra’s movement creating the rocking sensation, prolonging your pleasure for as long as he knows you can last. You finally go still only when he does, the rushing pleasure slowing to a trickle.

Sagging into Ezra’s arms, you shudder as the bliss tapers off. As your breathing slows, other sensations come back to you, including that of something clinging to- or maybe dripping from- your thighs. Dieter.

Your paramour is gazing at you, awestruck, a familiar dopey, dazed grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. You make a questioning sound.

“You comin’ set him off, sweet. That was some mighty, powerful pleasure, if I do say so myself.” Ezra’s rasp in your ear sounds thoroughly satisfied. “It seemed unduly cruel to deny dear Dieter any longer after such good behavior, so I took the liberty of takin’ care of him.”

Indeed, Ezra’s hand is wrapped more fully around Dieter’s cock, though both are now somewhat obscenely mashed against your sex and covered in his spend. “Oh, good,” you sigh.

Ezra chuckles. “I’ll give us a wipedown, gem. Then you can untie his hands, if you wouldn’t mind, and I’ll get his feet.”

You blink yourself slightly more alert. Dieter didn’t like being tied up for very long after the fun stuff was over. “Mhm. Okay.”

You help Ezra wipe the various fluids from all three of you. Your brow knits at the sensation of him pulling out of you, but Ezra appears unperturbed, humming an idle tune as he rotates to unbind Dieter’s feet. You turn your focus to doing the same to his hands.

A serene, almost cherubic, expression lay over Dieter’s face; with his eyes closed and his breathing deep and steady, he looks halfway to sleep. When you lean back from untying him, his eyes are open. You start.

Then you chuckle. “Hey, D. Feeling okay?”

Dieter lengthens his already long limbs and then contracts them in a wiggly stretch. He rolls over toward you, resting his head on your thigh. “Mmhmmm.”

He looks for all the world like he intends to fall asleep right there. Honestly, the man resembles a giant cat sometimes. Or maybe some other, more exotic animal. Actorus libidinous.

A ferocious rumbles issues from what you can only assume is Dieter's stomach. His eyes fly open. "I'm so fucking hungry."

He appears astounded by this fact. Or maybe by the fact that he forgot his hunger in the first place- it’s truly a testament to how worked up he was that all other needs fled his mind so completely. (You made him eat a granola bar before Ezra arrived, but still.)

Ezra returns from the ensuite, and your eyes widen. Your hunch earlier was right- he didn’t come. Ezra’s still-hard cock bobs as moves around, flushed a deep red and still smudged with your arousal in places.

Dieter spots it as Ezra begins getting dressed, and his eyes go round. “Whoa, Ez, did you not come? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Ezra’s mouth quirks. Sifting through the scattered clothes on the floor, he extracts a pair of pants and begins turning them rightside-out. He gives an arch shrug. “What can I say, starlet? Your perseverance inspired me. I enjoy a good edging session myself; I thought I might wait until I arrived home to take care of it.” Ezra pulls his jeans on without anything beneath and fastens them snugly over his erection.

Ezra was an old hat at this profession. He didn’t entertain feelings of awkwardness or shame. If he wanted something, he asked for it.

“In that case, send us pictures,” Dieter says. His eyes wander Ezra’s sturdy, shirtless body with wanton admiration.

“That costs extra.” Ezra sends them a saucy wink. He reaches for his shirt without a hint of discomfort.

“Worth it.” Dieter rolls onto his back with a great sigh. His mostly-softened cock flops over with the movement, dribbling a bit more fluid as it does.

Now dressed, Ezra comes over to say his goodbyes. First he hands Dieter a tissue, nodding toward his dick. Then he gives you both a kiss on the forehead.

“Perhaps this time I might allow the debt to be paid with some of the takeout you’re about to order.”

Thanks for reading! 💕💕💕

You grin. "We'll schedule your delivery for an hour from now."

The Romanian liquor is real and exactly as delicious as it sounds- it's called 'visinata', which means '[thing] made from cherries'. I highly recommend making a Romanian friend and having them bring you a bottle of their mom's homemade stuff, although I cannot promise that it will lead to sex parties. That was just wishful thinking on my part 😬🤷🏻‍♀️

Dividers by strangergraphics

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #the bubble fic #the bubble #dieter bravo/reader #dieter bravo/you #dieter bravo fic

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chihirolovebot · 1 month

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being so normal and regular abt modern domestic physouma . he makes sure phys takes their antidepressants every single day. he knows when theyre having a bad day , when they curl up on the bed or sofa under the weight of a bunch of blankets, head turned against the sunlight , and he's just sort of there, hovering ,never leaving them alone. quietly opens up all the windows and brings them food under the guise of having leftovers . holds them a little tighter when they sleep. and you know he kicks up a fuss if phys doesnt want to share the bed ( or couch, or wherever because ouma can sleep anywhere ) .

like whatever . phys likes buying flowers and plants to look after because it gives them a routine and something to get out of bed for even on days when they dont feel like it. they make ouma sneeze but he'd die before he says anything about it.

theyre both bad at cooking but ouma can make a couple of basic meals and phys likes experimenting . i think phys makes breakfast and ouma makes tea/dinner and beyond that they Scavenge . phys drinks a relentless amount of tea and hot chocolate but ouma isnt allowed caffeine . neither of them like spicy food . phys likes making eggs in the morning but is finicky about texture and finds that the safest way for them to eat them is either as an omelette or hidden in something else ( ouma encourages them to keep making eggs because theyre good for you ) .

they have a strict laundry day because they both know they'd let it slip otherwise , ouma because he hates doing it and phys because they'd get distracted and forget.

phys starts working a salaried job with the professor as soon as they graduate university ( which they do at seventeen or eighteen ) and he buys them a cute little apartment in the city. ouma moves in not long after they get together ( maybe they met at hopes peak .. ? ) and they share the space . and phys watches this apartment with a nice view of osaka turns into Their Home. every time they come home from work exhausted , sensory overload with stuff sticking to their neck and shoes too tight and hair in their face , ready to throw their bag down and scream—they see him . curled up like a cat on the couch or experimenting (to detrimental effects) in the kitchenette or sometimes just waiting for them to come up and they just feel themself light up .

incompatible sleep schedules but once phys is asleep Theyre Asleep so its okay . they go to bed anywhere from 11pm-2am and ouma will go with them but not sleep for ages . combo of fucked up sleep schedule , undiagnosed insomnia and trust issues abt falling asleep in front of someone first . hes a creep and stares at them whilst they sleep bc he finds it kind of adorable and also , like , theres a person so close to him in a way that he never thought there would be , like theyre here and theyre asleep and vulnerable and they trust him and its so surreal he has to jam his fist in his mouth before he screams sometimes . hes a stick insect once hes asleep btw . phys wakes up at 7am and hes clinging to them like a koala bear.

the Big Light never get used . they have so many lamps and phys loves stringlights so much . ouma find fun and cute and creative ones with coloured lights and cute shapes and they hang them up everywhere , all over the doorways and walls, and instead of doors they have those beaded curtains that hang down because they both like how they swish and ouma loves using them to make dramatic entrances and exits .

casual touch . sleepy nights curled up on the couch watching shitty 70s spy flicks , ouma with his back to phys' chest with his head lolling on their shoulder whilst they fiddle with his hair to keep their hands occupied .

#im SO . SO NORMAL . SO FUCKING NORMAL .#🏚.sleep awake #veetxt

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talesofesther · 2 years

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cats

Eddie Munson x Reader

This story belongs to the Moonstruck universe

Summary: You meet Eddie's cat.

A/N: Eddie + cats = cuteness overload. Requested by @tvserie-s-world

Masterlist

"Just uh- don't mind the mess." Eddie scratched the back of his neck, walking up the stairs to open his trailer's door.

"Eddie, I've been here before." You raised an eyebrow at him, following behind.

It was true, you had been at his home once before, but it was weeks ago before he called you his girlfriend. Eddie knew it was a bit foolish and you'd never judge him, but deep down he always wanted you to see the best side of him, in all senses.

Eddie walked inside the empty trailer and held the door open for you. "Welcome to my humble abode, princess."

You took slow steps in, looking around at the many baseball hats and cans on display; a TV, worn couch, lamps, and haphazardly thrown clothes and pillows all were cramped in the small space, along with the small joined kitchen right beside and the only bedroom in the house, Eddie's. In its own messy way, the place was incredibly cozy.

The door closed behind Eddie with a soft thud and you felt his hands closing around your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against the back of your neck. "Wayne won't be home until tomorrow morning, we have the house all to ourselves." He quietly dragged the words.

You chuckled under your breath, hands covering his as you swayed your bodies lazily from side to side. "Is that so?"

Eddie hummed, peppering gentle kisses on the skin of your neck.

You were losing yourself in the warmth of his body when you felt something fluffy rubbing against your ankles. You glanced down with a frown, only to see a black cat curiously looking up at you.

"Eddie, you didn't tell me you had a cat!" You exclaimed, unceremoniously moving away from Eddie to crouch down. You picked up the ball of fur, embracing him to your chest, your mouth hung open in silent awe when he started purring.

"Yeah, technically-" Eddie started, pout on his lips because you traded him for the animal.

"Oh god, he's adorable, what's his name?" You placed a kiss behind the cat's ear.

Taking a step towards you, Eddie raised a hand to stroke the black fur under the cat's chin. "Doesn't have one."

You raised your eyebrows, unimpressed. "You didn't name your cat?"

Eddie chuckled and walked to his kitchen, he started rummaging through the cabinets for a bag of popcorn. "He's not exactly-" he glanced your way, you stood in the middle of his trailer, black cat cradled in your arms whilst you played with his paws. Eddie felt his stomach turning pleasantly, he had a lovesick smile on his lips, "well, I guess he is mine now. He was one of the strays here and just sorta… started living here."

Holding the half-full bag of popcorn, Eddie fidgeted with the lighter and turned on the stove. "So I uh- haven't named him yet."

"I think it fits you." With the cat held in one of your arms, you closed the distance between you and Eddie, backing him up against the counter. "Having a cat I mean, gives me all the more reason to hang around."

Eddie's arms closed around your waist, he started planting greedy kisses on the corner of your mouth and on your cheeks. "Am I not reason enough?" He whined.

You felt his words against your skin, biting your lower lip with a smile. You answered him with a proper kiss, a hand behind his head pulling him towards you. Eddie obliged happily, he always did.

And you always had to pry his hands away from you, giggles escaping both of you; otherwise, if you let him, he'd be happy to make out all day and not get anything done.

You sat down on his worn couch, cat resting on your thighs. You threaded your fingers through his fur in thought. "How about Ozzy?"

From his place sitting on top of the counter, Eddie furrowed his brows. Playing with the lighter in his hands as he waited for the popcorn.

"For the cat's name." You clarified, both hands raising the cat in question.

Flicking the lighter on and off, Eddie grinned widely. "Oh, that's perfect, sweetheart."

After a few minutes of you choosing the movie you'd be watching and Eddie making popcorn, you had your feet up on the coffee table and Eddie walked up to you holding a big bowl of popcorn, already munching on some.

"Nuh-uh, he's in my spot," Eddie grumbled, mouthful and pointing a finger at the cat in your lap.

His downright offended frown was childlike, making you smile. "You mean my lap?" You raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Yeah," Eddie said matter of factly.

You snorted, nonetheless carefully lifting Ozzy up in your arms. Eddie threw himself on the couch and laid down, his head now resting on top of your thighs and after he was comfortable, you laid the cat on top of his chest.

Eddie's doe eyes stared up at you, his lips curled up softly. You ran a hand over his fringe and he closed his eyes. Eddie reminded you of a cat sometimes.

"This feels nice," Eddie said quietly.

He said the words you'd been thinking about, running a finger over the outline of his eyebrow, admiring the curve of his nose and the turn of his lips; "it does," You agreed. To this, you two, and the ever-present feeling of home that followed you everywhere.

With both your hands occupied, petting both Eddie's hair and the cat's fur; your boyfriend raised a few popcorns to your mouth as the movie started.

Ozzy was sprawled on top of Eddie's chest, fast asleep. Eddie's fingers bumped into yours amongst the black fur. A light drizzle could be heard outside, hitting the trailer's roof, the faint pitter-patter of rain mixing with the ongoing movie on the TV.

Here, inside Eddie's trailer, with his head resting on your thighs, your fingers buried in his hair, and with a little black cat sleeping on top of him; you had your own personal piece of heaven.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Eddie’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @boooil @science--hoes @cherrypieyourface @tssf-imagines @daph-505 @astream-ofconsciousness @fentyreligion @fantasylovestoryme @justabeautiful-letdown @crazyrapunzel @yessica41 @dancing-hillary @bakugouswh0r3 @hehehehannahthings @jakebasement @zervopoulouu @forverdaydreamer-blog @fromthedt @oeuryale @mcueveryday @palah @witchbinchstories @call-me-magpie @loveshineslikethesky @luvmybbies @tvserie-s-world @agirlsguidetolove @hallothankmas @ribyourtoplip

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #strangerthingsedit #stranger things #eddie munson x you #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddiemunsonedit #joseph quinn #stranger things x reader #st #my story

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denim-devil · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 5 — Wall sex/Hickies

Pairings — Bully!Billy Hargrove x Wheeler!Male reader

Summary — Having the house to yourself was always a bonus but a certain Hargrove stumbles in and breaks apart your plans for a relaxing night…

A/N — Okay so I lied, I’m back on with Kinktober I just needed to clear my head and really decide on characters I find easy to write, so here it goes…

[ NOT EDITED ]

──────. • ☆:*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ• . ──────

He pushed past you, making his way into your home through the open front door. You shivered at the cold draft he brought it, he looked to be cold himself but you didn’t say anything.

Instead you sighed, slamming the door shut before turning to Billy. He made himself at home, sitting on one of the counter top- stools, his ring clad fingers travelling over to the freshly made batch of cookies.

The smell almost had Billy weak in the knees, he didn’t waste time, placing the warm crumbly biscuit in his mouth.

“Hands off Hargrove, there for my little sister’s baking stall-“

You were angry, you spent all night trying to perfect the recipe and once you did, Billy had to come and tear it all down, like he did with pretty much anything you did.

He stood before wrapping one of his much larger and warmer hands around your mouth, pushing you back into the wall behind you harshly causing a thump to ring out into the open space.

He was close, practically breathing down your neck.

“But there so damn sweet-“ he teased before taking another bite of the soft, halloween themed cookie. A certain blush crept up into your cheeks, blossoming like a tree’s branches.

Billy took that as an invitation, removing his hand his darted forwards, lips crashing into your own. Your anger was replaced with an almost tethering hunger, one that had you give into him, to your previous feelings for him.

This whole year was like a chase of cat and dog, Billy always coming out on top, including tonight.

“Get off of me you dick-“

You struggle to get out of his grips but of course, Billy wasn’t going to make it that easy for you…was he?

Another chuckle and a shove later your turned, now facing the cold, wooden wall. You begin to panic knowing full well Billy had some shitty trick up his sleeve.

He secured your hands together with one of his own before using the other to twist your face towards him gently. Your met with his ocean blues, his messy, dirty blonde curls hanging over his forehead…you really needed help.

“You know…this game, it’s got me thinking” Billy pressed his front into your arched back, before looking back up at you, licking over his teeth before his lips stretch into a menacing smile.

“Thinking what?” You slightly stutter over your words but the shyness only added fuel to his fire. He cockily began attacking your neck with his lips, kissing the sensitive skin residing underneath your right ear, toying with it before sinking his teeth in, sucking, creating a dark, red blotch.

“Thinking that maybe…just maybe you’d be into me” his voice continued on it’s low tone, it’s raspiness causing your thighs to press together, relieving the ache between your legs.

“You t-thought wrong” your cheeks heat up, you were the same colour as Billy’s open, burgundy shirt. He took note of that and used it to the best of his abilities. Releasing your hands, you rest them above your head, against the wall like the rest of your body, giving into him.

His finger tips graze over the waist band of your denim jeans, already they unclasped the button seductively, which helped Billy push them down, along with your boxers, that alone had you squirming in place, you were lying if you said you never thought about this…

“There we go, fucking perfect sweetheart” the nickname alone had you pushing back into him, your bare ass rutting against his clothed ass.

Quickly, due to his own aching member, Billy too unfastens his belt clasp and button, shoving his denim jeans lower until they pooled around his ankles, his cock slapping up into his flat stomach suggesting his boxers had also joined the mess of denim material on the kitchen floor.

He settled into you, his girthy cock slotting perfectly between your ass. You melted into his touch, clearly giving up your tough demeanour.

“How wrong was I…?”

The question left you speechless, you could only concentrate on the way his cock felt…down there, you’d give anything to know what it felt inside.

“B-Billy please; I’m begging- fuck” your whimpers of neediness encourage Billy to spit into his hand, reaching down he began fisting his dick, lathering the slick until he was satisfied.

He pressed the tip against your hole before silence fell over the both of you, preparing yourself’s for what was to come.

Once you breathily sighed, wiggling your hips antagonistically, Billy pushed forwards, stretching your pucker uncomfortably, he was big, so damn big you were scrambling to grip onto the hands securing your hips in place.

“Stop- please, it hurts”

Billy understood, slowing down but still pushing forwards, willing to break the boundaries you’ve had in the past, you were his now…nothing could change that, especially judging by how your body was reacting to him.

“Look at that- so fucking accepting, this body needs it- fuck, that’s it sweetheart”

The burn slowly sizzled down into a dull pleasure that began to ring from your gut upwards, blooming across your body. Billy was fully sheathed inside, he’s never felt more at home.

“Ready?”

You nod before allowing your bully to start his ravishing, you were certain by the end of this, you and your body wouldn’t be the same, that’s for sure…

#male reader #x male reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #kinktober 2022 #smut #fluff #BULLY BILLY HARGROVE #screaming

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thcfountain · 3 months

Text

Dating Noah includes:

bisexual afab reader edition. (Dating Noah headcanons are now by request only.) MDNI.

You and Noah point out hot people together.

"Hey," Noah gets your attention immediately by putting his phone in your face. "Isn't she hot?"

You take the phone from his hands, looking over the gorgeous instagram model on the screen. "Fuck yeah," you agree, passing his phone back. "She's beautiful."

"She has nice tits," he adds. "I wanna suck on them."

Although you two oggle hotties together, he sometimes gets jealous. There's a little jealous streak in Noah that acts up when he sees you with someone too hot.

An arm drapes around your shoulders, pulling you taught against his side out of nowhere. You look up at Noah and see him hardcore eying the person you'd been in conversation with. "Hey, sweetie," he says to you, looking directly at the person so they get the hint. "How's my girl?"

you, Noah, and your collective friend group sometimes go do karaoke together. It's definitely a little obnoxious to karaoke with someone who sounds as angelic as Noah does though.

Noah is a Nerd with a capital N and sometimes you surprise him by dressing up as his favorite characters.

His eyes practically bug out of his head when he sees you in the Legolas costume. You sit on the bed, leaning back on your hands and watching him with a smirk.

"How do you feel about getting blown by an elven prince?" You ask and the words are barely out of your mouth before his pants hit the floor.

gay jokes. so many gay jokes.

"Does this look okay?" Jolly holds the picture frame he's trying to hang, as level as he can get it. "What do you think, Noah?"

Noah eyes it for a second. "It's about as straight as my girlfriend," he replies jokingly and Jolly sighs.

"What about now, is it still gay to the left?" Jolly asks, after adjusting the frame and you choke out a laugh.

"It's gay to the right now," you answer.

Noah asking you to help him do eyeshadow in the bi colors (or in his pride colors) for a concert during pride month.

Someone throws a bi flag at him on stage and he immediately ties it on like a cape.

"Someone gif this and send it to y/n. I'm Captain Bisexual now."

helping Noah explore his own sexuality. He feels safe and secure enough with you to do it and even if he settles on being straight or realises he's LBGT+, you're both just proud of him for being open and secure enough in his sexuality.

adopting a cat with Noah and the two of you write down a bunch of pronouns, genders, and sexualities on pieces of paper, crumble them up, and throw them on the floor so your cat can choose it's identity like the old tiktok trend.

as long as it's discussed and consented to by you both and then other parties, sometimes you and Noah bring other people into your bed. Sometimes for threesomes or orgies and sometimes just because one of you wants to watch the other fuck.

Devin Oliver shoves your face down into the mattress, fucking you hard and fast from behind. You turn your head, catching Noah's eye as he watches. The sight of him stroking his cock while watching his friend fuck you, paired with how well Devin was fucking you, made your walls tighten as another orgasm washed over you.

Noah goes down on the girl that you two had brought home and her back arches immediately under his ministrations. You cup her cheek, moving her to face you so the two of you can share a kiss, one that she moans into when Noah flicks his tongue over her clit.

Putting together DND campaigns/characters together. You two and your friends have absolutely had a campaign based on the Concrete Jungle.

The table is covered in game play items - maps, character sheets, dice, etc and bowls of snacks line every surface of counter space in the kitchen.

"I can't believe you named your character Haon," you laughed as Noah rolled the dice, rolling a charisma check to see if he could flirt for information.

"You wouldn't let me name my character Noah," he says, sticking his tongue out and then cheering for his nat20.

joining the band for a stop or two during tour and cuddling with Noah after concerts or watching him perform from the side of the stage.

if he knows you're watching the concert, he sometimes gets horny. Dance moves that contain a lot of hip thrusting or even once grinding on Nicholas who got a little too into it when playing. (And was immediately afterward asked if he wants a bj from Noah as long as you could watch)

wearing matching Naruto inspired outfits with him.

implying that you're interested in learning guitar and sitting on his lap as he helps show you the different chords.

Noah teaching you a few simple songs on the guitar and accompanying you on the keyboard/piano so you can have a jam sesh.

showering with Noah and having him sit or bend down so you can wash his hair for him. lots of smoochies in the shower but no sex because one time Noah slipped and almost cracked his skull.

one time Noah surprises you by wearing lingerie.

getting boudoir photos done for/with each other

he gets very good at masturbating silently so he can send you videos while on tour.

doing fancy baths together. you guys have a huge collection of bath bombs, bath salt, bubbles, etc, for bath time. One time he brings home bath tub crayons as a joke.

You draw some stick people on the side of the tub and he laughs. "You are such an artist, baby," he teases.

"Hey at least I didn't draw 3 dicks with arms," you reply, pointing to Noah's drawings.

one time he buys a glitter bath bomb and glitter is immediately banned from the house afterwards.

He gets out first and your jaw drops, noticing the glitter that covers every inch of Noah's skin. "You look like Edward Cullen," you point out as you get out of the tub and scrunch your nose at your own glitter covered body.

The tub was a glitter disaster and it took you both several days to scrub off the glitter off yourselves.

sharing a secret spotify account with him so you can both make playlists and share music with each other.

#noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian

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celandeline · 3 months

Text

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (11)

On screen, the girl slowly crawls out of the television, her long black hair dripping wet and obscuring her face.

Above me on the couch, Venetia watches in horror, her mouth hanging open as she turns her head away from the screen. “Oh my god!”

The library is dark - the sun having long disappeared behind the maze and no one having bothered to turn on the lights. It adds to the ambiance, I think, the how the long shadows cast by the bookshelves seem to make the corners of the room into deep recesses where monsters might hide. All of us are gathered here - the sectional sofa not big enough to hold the eight of us.

On the end of the couch, James watches with his head propped up against his hand. To his right, Elspeth and Pamela gossip in whispers, barely paying attention to the movie. Squished together at the other end, Venetia is all but sitting in her brother’s lap, and Felix is hiding his face in her hair - anything to not have to watch the horror on screen.

Three of us sit on the floor. Oliver is tucked between Felix’s legs. I lean against Venetia’s knees next to him, and Farleigh has his head leaned back in the space between Venetia and Pamela, his gaze unflinching as he takes in the atrocity.

“Why is she wet?” Elspeth asks aloud as the girl mercilessly kills the journalist’s boyfriend.

“Because she’s been down the well Mum, geez.” Felix says, barely moving from the safety of hiding behind his sister.

My attention moves from the screen and I tip my head backwards, looking up at Venetia. Catching my look, she grins, and winds one of her hands into my hair, stroking like a cat, her fingernails gently scratching against my scalp. I close my eyes as she sifts through my curls, and savor her touch. I swear, I would do anything for her if she only asked.

Her hand retreats from my head, and I let my eyes flutter open. Farleigh is looking at me, amused, his big brown eyes reflecting the light of the TV screen. I quirk an eyebrow, a silent question.

“You really are her dog.” He says, low under his breath as he turns back to the movie.

I roll my eyes, and go to hit him in the thigh, but he grabs my hand in the air, and brings it down gently against his leg instead of the blow that was coming. He keeps his hand there, on top of mine, sandwiching my palm against his thigh.

I turn my eyes back to the screen to pretend that he didn’t just win whatever that was. I can’t wrap my head around him. At all. One minute, he’s perfectly friendly - we joke, we share cigarettes, we talk in the way that people that have mutual friends do. But then, like a change in the wind, it’s that night on the steps all over again - he’s teasing with narrowed eyes with the word ‘dog’ on his lips. And now, he’s holding my hand on his thigh like we’re-

A loud screech from the TV startles me out of my thoughts, and I jump, hands clenching from the jolt of adrenaline that shoots through me. Next to me, Farleigh swears as my nails dig into the meat of his leg. I pull my hand back to see blood on the very tips of my fingers. “Oh- shit, fuck, sorry, Farleigh are you-?”

Farleigh stands up. “I’m fine.” He says, sounding pissed off and not fine at all as he scoots past me towards the bathroom.

Venetia leans forward. “What’d you do?”

“I accidentally clawed him in the leg,” I say, getting up to go after him. “I’ll be right back, I just want to make sure he’s good.”

Venetia nods, and leans back against her brother as I step over Oliver’s outstretched legs and follow Farleigh’s path out of the library. The house is just as dark - darker, even, without the light of the TV from the library - but the light streaming into the hall from the little cabinet bathroom makes it easy to find him.

Farleigh’s got his leg propped up on the toilet, dutifully wiping the beads of blood away from his thigh with a tissue. He doesn’t look up when I come to a stop in the doorway, but says, “I said I was fine.”

“Well you don’t sound fine.” I say. “You sound like you’re going to cut my leg off while I’m asleep tonight to get revenge.”

He snorts, and looks up at me. “It’s basically a cat scratch, Eves, I’m good.”

“Okay.” I say, but I still linger in the doorway, watching as he places a band-aid over his leg at an angle. There’s a million things I want to say dancing on the tip of my tongue - to apologize again, to ask him what his problem is, to ask why he was basically holding my hand - but what comes out of my mouth is none and all of it at once. “I’m sorry. Do you like me?”

The grin on his face falls as he stands up. For a moment, we just look at each other - him, bathed in the warm light of the bathroom, a halo through his curls like the sun, me, half in the darkness of the hallway, looking up at him. “What?”

“You-,” I start, and then pause, gathering my thoughts. “You keep doing this thing, where you act like we’re almost friends, and then you’ll call me Venetia’s dog, and then you’ll pretend nothing happened, and you were just holding my hand-”

“I like you.” He cuts me off.

I expect him to elaborate, to say something else, but he doesn’t. Instead, we just look at each other for a moment, before I break the stare. “Okay.” I say. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He says, looking back down at his leg, and then grinning at me. “Hardly the worst thing a girl’s done to me.”

I roll my eyes, but smile.

< previous part | next part >

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start

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satansaidnottoday · 3 months

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Twinning: part 2.

Part 1

Info: Human AU, Lucifer's Mc, Mammon & GN!Mc.

Summary: Mammon helps out with preparations for the party.

Every day you make up at 3am sharp to start baking. Nonstop measuring, mixing, pipping, and decorating until it's opening time. Mondays are the only day off, the only day a week you close down the café and take time for yourself.

Yet today you're awake at 3am on a Monday, bending over a DIY starlight curtain. And for what? Some kids you barely know the name of? Pity for a man who probably makes three times more than you? You didn't even know this family two weeks ago. And still, you keep gluing strips of LED lights together. It takes about two hours to be done, but it's beautiful and completely worth it. It takes another three hours until you've finished hot gluing starts into constellations on a navy blue banner. You would hang it up behind the glittery letters that spelled out their names.

You needed to prep just one last thing before the day. You know two things about these kids, one likes constellations, and the other will finish a cupcake in a single bite. So, a space cake it is. You would make it with leftover sheets, fondant, and cream to reduce cost. Making all the decorations for free was a lot on your wallet already. You got ready to have breakfast before starting when the doorbell rang. You make your way down the stairs, expecting maybe a delivery or a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar.

Instead, you find a man with messily bleached locks and the biggest yellow-tinted sunglasses you've ever seen. You wondered how he managed to see on a cloudy day.

"Hey! What's up with the door? It won't open!" He asks, before looking you up and down. Probably surveying the glue and glitter covering your old clothes.

"We're closed today..." You say, ready to close the door on his face, until you remember where you knew him from. The one very loud teenager following Lucifer around. "Are you Lucifer's brother?"

"Ya, Mammon, remember my name next time, I'm not just someone's brother." He says, indignant. "What even happened to you anyways?"

You would feel offended if you had any energy left for that. "Your brother."

"What?" He lifts an eyebrow, and you barely see it through his glasses.

"I'm making decorations for the twins's birthday," you explain, asking yourself why you are even entraining him.

"Ah, Lucifer did say something about that. But it's like a week away, why are you doing it now?"

"Because today is my only free day," you answer, patience wearing thin. "And I still have stuff to do, so..."

"Wait, but isn't that part of your job? Decoration and shit." He looked at you with a confused face. You felt a headache building up.

"No, I just rented him the place," you said sharply and opened your mouth again to say goodbye, before he interrupted.

"Since you're already working on your free day, can I have a caramel late? With soy milk, please." He smiles.

You close the door on his face.

"Hey, wait! I'll pay for it! Don't leave me out!" You hear him scream, but you just turn around and start going upstairs. He doesn't stop at all, just screaming louder with every step you take. "I'LL HELP WITH THE DECORATIONS!" He tries again, and you stop to think about it for a moment. "COME ON! I KNOW THEM BETTER!" He did make a good point.

After some more consideration (and some more screaming), you turn back and open the door for him.

"You're unbearable." You say when he finally stops screaming.

"Unforgettable, you mean." He runs his hand through his hair.

"Does this usually work for you?"

He does a weighting motion with his hands. "Fifty-fifty."

You let out a deep sigh, starting to understand Lucifer. "I can offer café con leche and leftover cat croissants," you tell him.

"Can it be soy milk? Please," he asks, tilting his head on what you think is an attempt to look cute.

"No."

He sighs this time, with fake exasperation. He looks at you pleading. You start to close the door again.

"Okay, I'll take it!" He says, launching himself inside before you can close the door.

He, in fact, didn't have a single problem gulping down the coffee with whole milk. Nor eating three whole croissants before even speaking.

"You got a nice place, how much do you pay on rent?" Of course he started with that. No thanks, no sorry for screaming my lungs off in front of your house.

"I own it." That was your only answer.

"Shit, really? You must be loaded!"

"I'm not, I just inherited it from my grandma. I had to pour all of my life savings and get a loan to open up the café. So I'm less than wealthy, I'm in crippling debt." You take a sip of your black coffee, washing your worries down your throat.

"Damn," he said, mouth half full of croissant. "That sucks."

You nod in response.

"You looking for a roommate? I can pay rent when I get a job."

"So, you can't pay rent now?…" He shakes his head. "So you would live here for free until you get a job?" He nods. "I'll pass for now."

"That sucks too..." He doesn't stop eating to feel bad tho.

"You don't like living with your brother?" You question, taking away the empty plate of croissants.

"It's not that, I'm just tired of depending on him."

"So your plan was to depend on a total stranger instead."

"I didn't think about it like that, okay?" He leans on his hands over the table.

You laugh and his cheeks grow red.

"Whatever, let's make festoons or something." He says, trying to change the subject.

"Ah, I'm already done with decorations," you admit.

He immediately stands up from his chair. "Oh well, then I should get going so I don't mess up your schedule anymore." He said, leaning down to grab his jacket, you stop his hand mid-air, holding his wrist.

"I do need help making the party hats, though."

He lets out an exhausted moan, letting himself fall backward. You're both sitting down on the floor, surrounded by cardboard paper and glitter stars. You had a system where you cut out the hats and decorations, and then passed them to him to assemble. In an hour, he has managed to finish a total of three hats. You had nothing else to cut, so you scooted closer and started assembling yourself.

"Come on, only six to go," you encouraged him.

He begrudgingly sat up again and grabbed one of the paper sheets to roll it into a cone. "This is so boooring. And your music is all old and sad."

You refrained from answering, instead opting to make conversation.

"How are you guys liking the new neighborhood?" You ask. You really wanted to inquire more about their family dynamic, but figured you weren't close enough yet.

"It's... nicer than our last place," he says. "It's safer, you know. There's kids playing outside and shit."

You nod.

"And you have some pretty nice neighbors." He looks at you confused. "I hear they will make you coffee even if you're annoying."

He scoffs. "In exchange for physical labor!"

"Oh, come on, it's putting double-sided tape on paper stars."

"It's abusive," he retorts, yet keeps on taping the stars on.

"It's for your brothers, don't you want to give them a cute birthday?" You ask with a playful tone.

"Of course I do! What I don't understand is why YOU are so invested in this if Lucifer isn't even paying for it."

He looks at you expectantly. After a few seconds pass by and it doesn't seem like he will relent, you stop to think. He is right, you have no stakes in this. So what if the kids don't have a nice cake and personalized decorations, it doesn't affect you. And it's not like they would have nothing. A lukewarm birthday party has never killed anyone. So why even bother? You would like to pretend you didn't know the answer.

"Heeeey!" He snaps his fingers a few times. "I'm serious, why are you so invested in this?"

"Because of your brother."

"Belphegor or Beel?" He asks, looking confused.

"Lucifer..." You admit.

"What? Why? It's not his birthday."

"It's not but this matters to him," you drop the finished Ursa Minor party hat into the box with the rest.

"How do you know that?" He insists.

"Because he looks so fucking sad!" You explode on his face. He backs up a little. "Sorry..."

"What do you mean sad?..." He asks in a smaller voice than before.

You take a deep breath.

"He looks so sad whenever he can't give you guys something you want, I can tell he feels bad," you say, putting into words a thought you've had since the day you met. "I know this is important for him, so I want to help him out."

Mammon stays silent, staring holes into you. After a few moments, he grabs the hat he was working on and keeps going. You both work in silence until they are all done.

"Well, you probably should get going now that we're done," you said, standing up.

He nods and follows you downstairs to the door.

"Thanks for the help, you can come back for your late tomorrow when the café is open." You hold the door open for him.

He nods again, but stays still, thinking. Finally, he turns to you.

"Thank you…" he says. You tilt your head, confused. "For caring for him, I mean. I try to, we all try to care for each other but, you know. He's the oldest and I guess we all expect him to care for us, so it's nice to know someone cares for him."

He quickly walks away, leaving you speechless at the doorway.

Feeling decent now. I tried something new with the writing in this one. Let me know if you like it.

Thanks for reading!

#dividers by @cafekitsune #OB!HumanAU #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me nightbringer #om! shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #obey me! mammon #om! mammon #shall we date mammon

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covenantofthedeep · 1 year

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electric love ☆

feat. | mona, childe, zhongli, & jean summary | they have a crush on u! a/n | i am trying to write so bad. pleeaseee rb if you see this it really helps esp since i haven't written in a while <3 thank u

mona megistus |

mona's not sure how to explain the crimson flush that spreads from her cheeks to her fingertips when you're around, nor is she willing to.

she doesn't know what's happened; just a couple of weeks ago the two of you were hanging out every day, friends forever, but now it's like something's changed. she can't think of you without picturing your lips, or the sparkle in your eyes, and that throws her off so much she goes out of her way to avoid you.

sometimes from her window she can see you talking to someone in the square, the sun highlighting your face and it's like you've been bathed in an ethereal spotlight. when she thinks about talking to you, her mouth goes dry and she finds herself at a loss for words, and she's not sure how to carry a conversation with you anymore. she hates it, actually. she detests it. you? distracting her so much from her every day tasks that she drops a stack of books on her foot when she sees you sprinting after a cat? how dare you.

the last straw is when she takes a walk through the woods and ends up in a sunny clearing, and she starts to daydream-the sun is just so nice on her face like that, and she's needed a break--and her mind wanders to you. your hands, she can imagine them intertwined with hers. would they be callused, she wonders, with all the sword-wielding you do all day? and then she catches herself and her eyes fly open and she stands. this can't go on any longer. you're taking up too much space in her mind.

she never used to feel this way. what a curious thing.

tartaglia |

childe would rather saw off his own fingers than admit he cares for you, and that's quite a sacrifice, seeing as he needs his bow and arrow. he has tried denying it, going so far as to shoot you down when you ask him to go monster fighting with you, or telling you he's "busy" when you ask him if he wants to hang out.

the crease in your brow when he tells you no kills him every time, making him want to turn you around and shout, i like you!

but that's a childish move, and childe doesn't resort to such tactics. he's decided the best option is to squash down his feelings and act as though everything's okay, despite the fact that taunting you isn't the little game it used to be--the two of you firing insults at each other for ages. now he takes real digs at you, because maybe that'll convince his stupid heart that he doesn't like you. the wounded look in your eyes before the whip-quick insult you spit back makes him want to kiss you, and he's embarrassed to admit that your lips take up more time in his head than they should.

he has no words to say how much he likes you, and he doesn't want any words, either, because that would mean he would have to tell you. even if he didn't want to tell you, he's not confident that his lips would stay sealed around you--one quick smile throws him off his balance these days, and sometimes when you wink (you've always done that, how has he just now noticed how cute it is?) he thinks he sees stars.

jean gunnhildr |

jean's already busy enough without you bothering her. that's what she tells you when you hang in her doorway, complaining that you're bored and will she please hang out with you? she always felt like tearing out her hair when you bugged her, although lately it's been for a different reason.

sometimes when you come in and throw yourself across her desk, she can't focus anymore; she used to be able to tune you out, but now, for some reason, you've been a distraction, one that she can't afford. she's had so much paperwork lately, so many requests from the townspeople asking her to take care of this, look over that, does this sound good. she's just so tired of it all, and she finds herself looking forward to you coming in and throwing her off kilter.

there's something almost magical about the dust motes floating through beams of sunlight that cut across your face when you lie on the floor, an arm thrown over your eyes and paperwork strewn on the ground beside you. she can't put a finger on the emotion she feels, she just knows that on the days you don't pop in, it feels empty and lonely. on those days, she catches herself staring out the window, watching for you, waiting to see if you'll drop by with some sweet madames and an offer to go to the tree by the statue of seven.

thoughts of you won't leave her mind, and it irritates her to no end. her work's been sloppy for the past few weeks, and that's not her brand. she wants to yell at you for distracting her this way, but those arguments just end up with you taking her hand and kissing her on the cheek, which is a strange thing to be imagining about you.

and she asks herself every day, is it odd that she wants to kiss you?

zhongli |

zhongli prides himself on his emotional disconnection from this world, and the way he can stay stable in every situation. except, the other day, your arm brushed his when you were laughing, and his arm tingled. maybe he could've convinced himself that he's imagining things and you just shocked him, maybe, which sometimes happens between people when there's static, except it happened again, and this time when you were handing him a pile of scrolls and books you thought he'd like.

he had dropped them all, sending the scrolls unraveling and the books landing splayed on their spine, which he knew would bend them. you had flashed him a dirty look, but laughter danced in your eyes. and you'd helped him pick them up while he wondered what had just happened.

sometimes he thinks you've noticed that he's been stumbly and stuttery and a mess around you lately, but you choose not to comment and instead tease him about it, which irritates him, and makes him wish that he could fluster you the same way. unfortunately, you remain the same--irritatingly, frustratingly perfect.

he wishes he could invite you to dinner more often without it seeming strange, although you are his closest friend--it can't be that weird?

but he regrets it instantly when you show up dressed up, as though you were going somewhere else than his dining room. after apologizing profusely for not telling you that it was just with him, he feels bad the whole meal and decides to make it up to you by taking you outside to see the stars (although you don't seem to mind being overdressed).

the stars shine and mirror in your eyes, pools of night set into your face. he wonders how much he could possibly love you without his heart exploding.

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soap143 · 4 months

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would you mind making a mini fic of the photo booth incident with minchan with prompts #2 8 12 & 19???

Of course! I was actually thinking about writing it. I think Minho might have PTSD from all these photo booth incidents… Enjoy! (A little angst at the end I guess)

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2 “wait! wait! i didn’t have enough time to prepare!”

8 “can you stop laughing? i’m trying to talk to you. how rude!”

12 “come on, let me see that smile!”

19 “i’ll never talk to you ever again.”

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Stubborn

Lee!Minho

Ler!Chan

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“Yah, why are you being like this” the leader scoffed, shoving Minho off his shoulder.

No matter how surprising this might sound, but the second oldest had forced Chan out of his dorm to hang out with him. Who could’ve though that the Lee Know would be the one begging to go out? Wonder why he would do that…

To say the truth, the mischevious bunny had woken up in a massive lee mood. And he felt like only Channie could satisfy it. Hypothetically, he could have asked Han to wreck him, but Minho just felt like Jisung’s tickles would not do the job. He was just stubborn like that.

Thanks to his mood, the dancer could not help but be all cute and clingy toward the older “Let’s go get ice cream, Channie-hyung~” Minho whined straight into the kangaroos ear for the hundredth time.

“Alright, Minnie, that is enough. What is up with you?” the aussie finally ran out of patience “Huh? Nothing, hyung. What could be wrong?” the cat lover naively answered, his boba eyes big and mouth slighly open in confusion.

Even though the leader, eventually, agreed to eat the bunny’s desired desert, he still remained suspicious of his bandmate’s strange behaviour.

Soon, Minchan were walking out of the shop with a an ice cream cone in each one’s hand “Is it good?” Chan asked, looking at Lee Know’s cone “No. Channie-hyung, you have your own ice cream. Don’t even try to bite mine.” Minho angrily rambled “Where’s the cute, clingy Minnie that was here just 20 minutes ago?” The leader of danceracha turned red at the comment “Shut up!”

They kept on walking until something cought the wolf’s attention “Is that a photo booth? I haven’t been in one ever since I was a teenager!” Chan childlishly giggled, dragging his grumpy companion by his arm “9000 won(thats’s 6.3eur)… Hyung, that’s like, expensive.” the bunny mumbled, looking at the price table “What? That’s pretty average, Minho” the older furrowed his eyebrows, digging thru his wallet.

Once the kangaroo took out the neccesary amount, he agressively showed the cat man into the tight space “Yah! Calm down, what’s wrong with you…” Lee Know whined, rubbing his shoulder which had been smashed into the thin metal wall “Ugh, this we’re going to be so cramped in here. Finish up your ice cream, quick!” Chan said, sitting down himself and getting the bills and coins out of the jacket pocket.

Like Channie had mentioned, there was not enought space for two grown men. So, he did the only thing he could think of “Come on, sit on my lap.” the leader instructed “WHAT?! No! That’s so weird…” Minho dramatically yelled. Can you blame him? He was afraid to trigger his mood even more. One arm around his sensitive waist would make his jump so high that he would bump his head on the ceiling of the photo booth.

“Why are you making such a fuss? We can’t fit in any other way. Just put one leg on my thigh. You know, partially sit on me. This doesn’t have to be strange if we don’t make it like that.” the mischevious bunny gave in, situating himself on his hyungs lap.

“See? Not that bad, is it? Why were you so dramatic anyway~” the aussie teased, lighly poking the taller’s sides. Like I mentioned earlier, that did end up eliciting quite a reaction…

The younger violently flinched, pushing the older’s hands away “What was thahat…? I didn’t think you were that ticklish…~” Oh, Channie was going to take advantage of their current position so badly “D-Don’t please. Let’s just tahahake the pictures and goho, Channie-hyung.” said man just smirked, only pulling his victim deeper into his hold.

“You know, I don’t understand how you were being so silly and adorable all day long, just to chicken out now. Why don’t you annoy me now? Huh? Are you, perhaps, afraid of the tickle monster?~” Lee Know could feel his ears reddening up at the wolf’s skilfull teasing “No, I’m n-not.” this was his last chance to avoid what this situation could, pottentialy turn into “Come on, let me see that smile!” In a desperate act, he covered his hot ears with his hands. Unfortunately, he handn’t though about the vulnerable position he would put himself in after doing that…

Not even a second after the dancer accidentally exposed most of his torso, the kangaroo harshly dug into Minho’s sides“Wait! Wait! I didn’t have enough time to prepare!” Chan just snickered, switching to the younger’s ribs “Come on, you’re gonna have to try harder to hide the fact that you like this than that~” the tickler pointed out. He was right though, the cat lover handn’t really moved his hands from the spot he was covering.

“IHIHIHIHI DOHOHOHOHON’T LIHIHIHIKE THIHIHIS, STOHOHOHOP!” Chan stopped tormenting his ribs and instead opted for quickly spidering and switching between the younger’s side, ribs and armpits “YOUHU’RE CRAHAHAHAZY!” it all soon became a bit too unbearable for the poor lee, as he had to bring down his arms to protect his sensitive torso.

“Oh, so now you’re trying to stop me? And you’re calling me crazy? Let’s see how like this then~” the aussie gripped the rabbit’s thighs, squeezing so quickly that Lee Know honestly thought he was about to ascend “NOHOHOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHEASE CHAHAHAHAHANIE! MIHIHSTED BAHAHANG! CHRIHIHIHSTOPHER!” the poor boy called out every single name to make he could.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out! Wow, I don’t remeber your legs being that ticklish… What do you think about your knees? Would those be bad?” the elder teased, never letting go of the sensitive body part “ANYWHEHEHEHERE BUHUHT MY KNHEHEHES PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” the bratty cat lover tried to maneuver his way out of the situation.

“Nah, I think I’ll go just for your knees!” the older’s crazy fingers latched on firmly on to the mentioned spot, which was crazy ticklish “ANOTHEHEHEHER SPOHOHOHOT, ANO-ANOTHEHEHEHER SOHOHOT PLEHEHEASE” the dancer begged, leaning back all the way onto Chan “I didn’t hear a stop~” the leader mumbled into his dongsaeng’s back, only making the whole situation even more ticklish.

The wolf kept on switching tactics. Sometimes he would tickle the soft bottom of the knee, then he would claw at the equally as sensitive top. The worst was when he would use both hands on one knee “BAHAHAHAHAHAHA CHAHAHAN, I-I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T” Lee Know shined through his hysteric laughter “Can you stop laughing? I’m trying to talk to you. how rude!”

The way that the aussie’s fingers stuck to Lee Know’s kneecaps made the victim crazy. He was sweaty, giggly, had messy hair, tears running down his neck. Did I mention his wine-red ears and face? Every single vein in his body was popping due to the uncontrollable cackles that kept on leaving his throat.

“Alright, I don’t want you to actually die. Yet.” the kangaroo lifted his torturous fingers, switching from mercilessly squeezing the taller’s knees with them to massaging Minho’s back with them “Wait, c-cahan you not stop here? I-I was liking this…” Minho shyly admitted.

“Oh? You want me to continue?” Chan dug into the muscle of Lee Know’s back, which wasn’t as ticklish as anywhere else, but was enough to elicit some cute giggles and squirms “Yehehehes, juhuhuhuhst lihihke thahahaht…!”

“Wow, your ears are soooo red, mister Lee. You should cover them up and keep your arms there before the tickle monster get them!” the childish teases were making the rabbit’s stomach do flips. He did listen though.

However, obeying Chan’s orders was a pretty rookie move. Once his arms were ocupied with protecting his sensitive ears, the aussie dug into the dancer’s hips, making him mive and twitch like a tube man “CHAHAHANIE PLEHEHEHEHEASE! NOHOHOHOHO” his pleads were totally ignored. I mean, why would Chan stop? His victim’s hands were not even trying to disturb him. They were still stuck on Lee Know’s ears.

“I think that’s enough now, Minho. You’re gonna pee yourself…” the wolf giggled “Yah! I’m not six years old!” the dancer protested, slapping his only hyung’s chest “Nof a six year old? You’re the one that enjoyed every second of this!” the leader pointed out.

Apparently the older’s joke wasn’t so funny to the cat lover “You think it’s weird, do you?” Minho sighed, starting to get off the kangaroo’s lap, thinking he migh be uncomfortable now that he knows the truth “Wait, wait, wait! It’s nor weird! It’s sooo very cute. Like, Minho. That is the most adorable thing I’ve heard ever. I’m so glad that you like this!” the leader reassured, forcing Lee Know back onto his lap.

“I was scared for a second… Although I don’t think I’m gonna be safe from your tickles ever again” the mischevious bunny commented “Now that I know that you enjoy this, prepare yourself for at least 3 or 4 tickle sessions daily.” the second oldest’s eyes quickly filled up with fear, as he scrambled away as fast he could out of the vulnerable position he was in. “I’ll never talk to you again”

Or will he…?

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This one is shorter, but I think it’s pretty good! I live, laugh, love for lee!know. It’s even in his name! Happy holidays❤️🙂

#tickle #rough tickles #stray kids #bang chan #lee know #tickle community #ler!chan #lee!know #lee minho #sfw tickle community #kpop tickle

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