#in fic i write them as if they did get along fine and grow to show genuine care for one another
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rack 'em
the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍
pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader
summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets
word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)
main masterlist
When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.
You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.
The mom had tattoos.
Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.
One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.
They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.
But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.
As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.
His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.
Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.
One: do not enter his room ever again.
Two: no touching his stuff.
And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.
You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.
So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.
It’s like old times.
“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”
Santiago��s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.
You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.
“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.
“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”
He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”
You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”
He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.
“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.
“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.
“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”
Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”
Mal snorts.
“Hey, lil Santi!”
You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.
“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”
“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”
“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.
It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.
By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.
But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.
Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.
Well. All but one.
Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.
Always have, always will.
He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.
You hated him. Fucking hated him.
And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.
You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.
“You here to poison my drink?”
“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.
“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”
He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”
Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.
“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”
“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”
“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”
Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.
“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”
You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.
You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.
You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.
“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.
He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”
“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.
Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.
It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.
The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.
She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.
“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.
She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”
“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”
Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.
“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”
“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”
Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”
You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.
“Alright. Fuck it.”
You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.
The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.
“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.
He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.
But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.
Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.
Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.
You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.
“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”
He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”
“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.
“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”
You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”
His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.
“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.
“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”
Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.
“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”
“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”
“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”
“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”
“No way. Mom would kill me.”
“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”
He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”
“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”
Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.
“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.
Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”
He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.
“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”
“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.
You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.
“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.
“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.
But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.
“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”
He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”
You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”
“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.
On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.
“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.
Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.
“Just tell me when.”
“When what?”
“To start going easy on you.”
Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!
One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.
Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.
The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.
“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.
He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.
The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.
Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.
It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.
He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.
“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.
Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.
“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”
You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.
“It was a good attempt,” she says.
“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”
You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”
“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”
You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.
“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”
Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”
“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”
He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”
“I think you should mind your business.”
“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”
“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”
He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”
You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.
Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.
Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.
The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.
He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.
So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?
Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.
“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.
You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”
“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”
You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.
“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”
“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”
“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”
“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”
You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.
“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.
She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.
“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”
“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”
You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.
It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.
You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.
As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.
“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”
“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”
“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.
“Are you lost?”
He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”
“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”
He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.
“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”
Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”
“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”
He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.
Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”
You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”
The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.
It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.
So then, why can’t he walk away?
You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.
“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”
“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”
He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.
His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.
“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”
“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.
You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.
“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.
“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”
“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.
Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.
But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.
“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.
He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.
“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.
Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.
“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”
“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”
“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.
“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”
He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.
“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.
He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.
Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –
“I’m the asshole.”
He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.
His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.
Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.
“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”
And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.
“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”
“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.
Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.
If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.
The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.
The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.
You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.
And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.
You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.
You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.
“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.
He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”
“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.
Frankie nods again. “I should go.”
You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.
You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.
And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.
Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.
He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”
You cock your head. “Hm?”
“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”
“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”
He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.
Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.
“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”
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#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales fic#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales smut#francisco morales#bbf!frankie#bbf!frankie morales#pedro pascal#pedro pascal frankie morales#pedro pascal characters#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#enemies to lovers#frankie morales enemies to lovers
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sleepless in chicago // c. berzatto
HI!! here is my first ever dad!carm fic because i simply couldn't get him out of my head. i just love this sweet, little fic so much?? because it just felt so cosy for me when i was writing. i hope you guys love it, too :) and also, i'd like everyone to welcome little riley michael berzatto <3
- clarke
pairing: carmy x fem!reader (no description, use of fem pronouns)
The streetlights glowed like stars as you drove home, humming along to the radio. After a long lecture, you were ready to take a long, hot shower and collapse into bed with Carmy.
In the cup holder, your phone began to ring, Carmy's name popping up on the screen. Flicking the Bluetooth toggle on your steering wheel, you answered the call.
"Hi, Bear, I'm almost home."
“Hey, honey,” his voice was low, quiet, and you could hear Riley’s soft coos and babbles in the background. “How was class?”
“Good, yeah. Long, though. Is everything okay? Did Riley lose his paci again? Why isn’t he asleep?”
“Hey, shh, it’s okay, mommy’s coming home, alright?” Carmy cleared his throat, glancing at his son in the bassinet, unable to fight his smile as he watched Riley squirm, reaching his little hands up toward the mobile, sea creatures swimming through the air. “He was asleep, but I was folding laundry in our room and I just heard him start babbling, just saying ‘mom’ over and over. He’s not upset, he’s just, like, awake. And no matter what I do, he won’t settle.”
You smiled to yourself, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel as a red light gleamed at you.
“Try taking him out of his sleepsack, he probably just wants to snuggle.”
“I think he misses you,” he said, voice moving away from the phone with each word. “Isn’t that right, Bug? We miss mommy, huh? But she’s learning, Buggy, she’s so smart. Yes, she is.”
Grinning, you turned onto your street, able to see the lamplight from your bedroom already. One window lit up, a beacon against the otherwise dark house.
At first, when you’d found out you were pregnant, Carmen had been worried. The two of you had agreed to start actively trying to have a child, but when it came to fruition, there was a tumultuous night spent with him, clinging to you, worked up into a state of panic.
‘What if I can’t do it, what if I fucking suck and I fuck it all up, and our baby-’
‘Stop it. Stop. Carm, look at me. Look at me and just shut up for a second.’ You pulled him close, his head resting in the crook of your neck. ‘We will figure it all out together. We’re going to be fine.’
He’d been so worried that he’d grow to create a fucked up family, just like the one he’d escaped from. But seeing him now… He never gave himself enough credit.
Toeing off your shoes by the door, you crept down the hall and into the bedroom. Kicking off your jeans in exchange for a pair of sweatpants, you were lifting your shirt over your head when the bedroom door creaked softly. You glanced over your shoulder and there they were; Carmen stood in the doorway, shirtless, gold chain gleaming, in a pair of boxers. With Riley on his hip, sleepy eyes bright. Your son babbled, reaching for you with soft, chubby fingers.
“Hi, mama,” Carmy smirked, gaze darting over you. You wandered over to them, dropping your shirt on the floor, swatting your husband playfully. Carmen pulled you in, his hand cradled the back of your head as he pressed an almost desperate kiss to your lips.
With Riley sandwiched between you, his warm little body like a heater, his curious hands playing with the strap of your bra, you rested your forehead against Carmy’s, just relishing the moment with him.
Your little family.
And you’re struck, all at once, by the memory of every moment you’d spent wishing for something like this. It had all seemed so unattainable, so out of reach; but you’d just been a lonely teenager, stuck in your hometown. The world hadn’t opened up to you yet.
But now?
If your younger self could’ve seen this, this little moment between the love of your life and the joint result of it, your son…
Well, they’d be proud that you never gave up searching for that comfort, that peace, you’d always craved.
#the bear#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#jeremy allen white#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you
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DESTINY (m.) | zuko
↬ fem!reader, protector!reader & protected!zuko
↬ genre: fluff / smut
↬ one bed trope, reader & zuko are adults (i am not writing no minors), fake dating for like one second, suggestive language, mild swearing, awkward cannon zuko, submissive zuko, typos but pretend you didn’t see them
↬ word count: 6k
↬ summary: you are hired as fire lord zuko’s personal bodyguard. being the stubborn man he is, he doubts that you can protect him. you’re going to prove him wrong.
↬ a/n: i was upset i couldn’t find any sub!zuko fics so i said screw it and wrote one myself.
m.list
Destiny is a funny thing. And, of course, Fire Lord Zuko knows all about it. After firmly believing for so long that his destiny was to kill the Avatar, the world threw him a curve ball and he ended up joining the Avatar’s team to defeat his own father.
So when his palace staff appoints you, an experienced assassin, as his personal bodyguard, he rolls his eyes at your stupid destiny that just so happened to intertwine with his.
When he became the Fire Lord, Azula almost immediately tried to get rid of him so that she could steal the throne by hiring you to kill him. Of course, she would have done it herself if she weren’t thrown into an asylum after their Agni Kai. However, after one of his staff overheard the conversation between you and his sister, they offered you twice as much payment as Azula did, and you couldn’t refuse the offer. Besides, what was Azula going to do? At this point she had already been taken away.
Although it seems shallow and a low blow to betray Azula because of money, you had to do what you had to do to get by. Growing up an orphan on the streets wasn’t always so good on you financially. You discovered you had a talent for stealing things for money, and even though you weren’t proud of it, it was the only way to survive. After running into some gang members who had heard about your talent, you began to work for them. Eventually you went from stealing for money to killing for it. Although it was not the life you wanted, it was the life you lived.
So how did you end up coming to the royal palace as Zuko’s personal bodyguard with questionable work experience and blood on your hands? Simply put, you were skilled. As one of the few fire benders known to use lighting, you were pretty good at it. Being able to both generate and redirect it impressed those around you, and word went around with some saying you were even better at it than Azula.
•••
“A bodyguard? I’m not a child; I don’t need protection.” Zuko rolled his eyes, his voice echoing through the large meeting room.
“Nobody said you were a child,” his advisor clarified, his voice filled with anxiety. Zuko always had a short temper.
“I can protect myself just fine. Besides, what will people think if they see the new Fire Lord with a body guard stuck to my side all the time? They’ll think I can’t handle myself.” Zuko was offended that his staff thought he needed a personal bodyguard to be near him 24/7. Sure, he was young, but he is capable. He rolled back his shoulders in an attempt to calm himself as he tried to explain his thought process. He has never been good with words, and he was already losing his patience.
“No, the people will know that you are taking your job seriously. And besides, we found an excellent fire bender that is able to both generate and redirect lighting! She’s excellent, and—”
“You already hired one without asking me first?!” Zuko cut off his advisor abruptly, his loud and stern voice rising along with the wall of fire in the room. He was already fired up and upset at the thought of having a personal guard, but the fact that his staff had already hired one without telling him first set him off.
“Please, think about this.” his advisor’s calm and collected voice soothed his rising anger a bit. “As your staff, we are dedicated to protecting you and making sure you are safe at all times. The girl is a strong and smart bender and might even be able to teach you some things. Please, give her a chance and reconsider.” his advisor lowered his head in obedience and hoped for an answer.
After a moment of silence, with the only sound being the low flames in the room, Zuko took a deep breath and spoke. “Fine, but let me test her first. If I am able to knock her down, she leaves and you’re not allowed to hire a new one.”
•••
“He wants to fight me? Zuko?” you let out a fake laugh filled with arrogance as you stared down at his advisor.
“Fire Lord Zuko,” he corrected you. “And well, yes. He is against the idea of having a personal bodyguard and the only way he will accept it is if you are able to fight him and not be knocked down.” the man explained, gesturing to the training courtyard outside the hallway window in the palace.
You followed his eyes and focused in on the former prince in the courtyard, eyeing his grown out hair. While you understood that Zuko wanted to make sure you were as good as his advisor said you were, you found it ridiculous. As far as you knew, he was constantly being bested by his younger sister. Although you weren’t as good a bender as his sister, you knew for sure you were better than him.
“Alright,” you shrugged as you began to make your way to the courtyard, his advisor following your steps. “Whatever makes him feel better. Wanna bet I can knock him down in sixty seconds?” a smirk grew on your face. You were not cocky in your ability, but confident. If you were being honest, you could probably knock him down in thirty seconds.
“I’m sure you can, but I’m not betting with you on whether or not you can knock the Fire Lord down in a minute. That’s inappropriate!” his advisor shushed you.
•••
Although you had seen the man from afar, you never realized how short Zuko was. You were almost taller than him (not that it mattered, it just made you feel superior when you were taller than men).
“Your royal majesty,” you sarcastically greeted, your deep and exaggerated bow earned you a scowl from the Fire Lord. You were unsure of why you had chosen your first words to Zuko to be sarcastic and cocky, but you knew you wanted to show that you were a capable bender and not some little girl who knew how to throw a fireball.
“Your bending better not be as horrible as your attitude,” he stared into your eyes, unamused at what you thought would be taken as a joke. “Let’s get this over with. Try and knock me down, if you can, and I’ll reconsider having you protect me.” you might have imagined it, but it seemed like Zuko didn’t believe you could beat him. You smirked, excited to prove to the royal that he was wrong and you are in fact the better bender.
“Aw, you think I can’t knock you down. That’s cute.” you winked, distancing yourself from him and taking a fighting stance, readying yourself. “Well your majesty, I’m ready when you are. Take the first move too, I’ll let you have that.”
Zuko clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Only because I want to get this over with,” he widened his feet and took a stance, his arm coming down to shoot fire at the ground, coming towards your feet.
As he shot his first move, you took a deep breath, rolling your eyes to show him what you thought of his predictable and easy to avoid move. Avoiding it simply, you punched the air, sending red flames towards him. But what he didn’t know was what you were going to do next. Distracted by your punch of fire, you quickly generated lighting through your fingertips, taking a deep breath before you aggressively pointed your hand towards where he was standing, making sure to miss him on purpose. As quickly as you sent the first shot of fire, Zuko saw a large lighting strike heading his way. Too slow to react and try to redirect it, your strike burned the spot on the ground next to him, the blackened spot on the ground inches from where he stood.
“How,” he started in disbelief. “How did you generate lighting so fast?” his eyes widened as he looked at you. Still in shock from how quickly you created lighting and nearly killed him, you moved quickly, running towards him and jumping in the air and sending multiple strikes of fire at him through your hands. Still focused on how you created lighting through your fingertips with such speed, he held his arms up to block you. His attempt was sloppy and weak, and you knocked him down to the ground and stood over him.
Zuko grunted, sitting up quickly and looking through the bright rays of sun blocking his view of you. “No way,” his hand came up to shield his eyes from the sun rays.
“How long did that take me? Definitely less than a minute, right, Mr. Advisor?” you hollered over at the staff who was standing off to the side. You crossed your arms and stared down at the royal man below you.
“You lasted less than a minute in this fight and I barely tried. Hopefully you’re not like that in the bedroom, Fire Lord Zuko.” you smiled down at him crookedly, a laugh escaping your lips as you started to walk off. “I’ll see you when I officially begin tomorrow, sir.” you bowed once again exaggeratedly. You couldn’t help but beam, you already knew you were going to win, but you didn’t expect to feel this good. Zuko was a handsome and talented fire bender, so something about beating him at something he is good at made you smile.
•••
It has been three years since you began to work for Zuko and he has learned three things in those three years.
One. You never refer to him using his title as you should be doing because you apparently hate all “royal blooded bitches” as you say. But if Zuko was being honest with himself, he was pretty sure it was just because you simply didn’t want to. The staff around you always shot you looks when you yelled out his first name to grab his attention, but you never cared. He admired that about you. You didn’t care what other people thought of you, something Zuko himself always struggled with.
Two. You were an absolute thug. What did he expect? You’re an orphan with a criminal background and a couple bodies on your list of people you’ve killed. Past Zuko would’ve thought you were some low life peasant, but that’s not what he thought of you at all. With a questionable past himself, he knew not to judge you for your past actions and choices. After all, some of his own past choices were questionable.
Three. You wear your heart on your sleeve and have a massive crush on him. So naturally, you make it known. As someone who doesn’t have a lot of relationship experience, or experience with women in general, Zuko never knew how to respond to anything you ever said to him that was even the tiniest bit flirtatious. After the breakup with his ex Mai, he had told himself to focus on his people and to stay out of relationships. When you first made it known to him that you fancied him, he thought you were joking.
“So, Zuko,” you had begun while escorting him to a meeting. “People are asking if you’re courting anyone. You’ll need a Queen soon.”
“I’m not interested in that right now,” he sternly told you. “And besides, nobody’s interested in me at the moment.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I am.”
Zuko shook his head, pushing away the past conversation that confused him because did you actually like him and were you just casually confessing your feelings out of nowhere? Or did you only say all that because you pitied him?
She flirts with every guy here, he told himself (not true, but telling himself that helped convince him that you did not in fact like him even though you did and expressed that on multiple occasions). There was just no way you could ever like someone like him. He was easily upset, always busy with his royal duties, and only had one eyebrow. Literally. The scar his father gave him convinced him that he wasn’t handsome or in any way attractive. Who would ever want to love someone with a scarred face?
“Zuko,” you barged into his quarters, shutting the door behind you as you interrupted his inner thoughts. “Are you ready?” you stood there, feet firmly planted on the ground like you didn’t intend on going anywhere.
“Do you not know how to knock?” he stood and looked at you, gesturing to his small luggage sitting on his bed. “I’m ready.”
The two of you were going on a secret mission (actually it was just him and technically you were just coming along to protect him) to spy on an unknown enemy of Zuko’s, most likely someone who did not want him on the throne. He had wanted to do it himself, saying that he needed to get a good look at the person who wanted to dethrone him.
“Just because I’m your bodyguard, that doesn’t mean I’m also your servant,” you eyed his belongings. “Carry your own shit.”
•••
You and Zuko quietly arrived near the location in a close forest of the unknown person who was apparently planning to rebel and dethrone Zuko. Tightening your hood, you created a small flame in your hand and searched around for any sign of danger. It was midnight and the two of you were planning to camp here for the night before resuming the mission in the morning to search for the unknown person.
“Stay close to me,” you instructed in a whisper.
“I know that.”
“Then come closer to me, idiot.” you aggressively grabbed onto his sleeve, yanking him closer to you as you quietly stepped around the area of trees.
“Ow, can you please be gentle?!” he complained, attempting to pull away from your gorilla grip but failing.
“Zuko, shut the fuck up.” you warned.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“One more word and I’ll burn the shit out of you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh yeah? Then—” in the middle of your banter with the Fire Lord, you saw a flame heading towards the two of you. Reacting quickly, you pushed Zuko behind your back and pushed away the flame with your hands before throwing a punch and firebending towards the threat.
“Who’s there? One step and I’ll burn you,” you threatened, eyes frantically searching the dark for a sign of life.
You felt Zuko behind you, chest pressed up against your back and heart rapidly beating against your body. He was nervous and scared and if you didn’t feel his panicked heartbeat, you wouldn’t know. You had to get out of there.
“Relax little girl, I only want what’s in that satchel.” you heard a gruff voice that came from a few feet in front of you. Zuko gripped the satchel around his body, debating if he wanted to just give it up to the intruder or help you fight him.
“You want it? Come and get it,” Zuko taunted, standing in front of you and kicking a flame towards the mysterious man.
“Zuko!” you warned. “Get behind me!”
“You might be my bodyguard, but I don’t always need your protection.” He spoke with determination in his voice as he stood firmly, his hands in the air and ready to firebend at any second.
“Your bodyguard is a woman?” the mysterious man cackled, jumping out of the dark and attacking Zuko with fire.
“Yeah, and what about it?” he shot back, easily defending himself against the wannabe thief. You stepped back, wanting to see how Zuko would protect himself. They began to fight close up, engaging in hand to hand combat, which you knew Zuko was good at. You had seen him at times training and were impressed. He easily overpowers the man, knocking him out with a swift kick and turns back to you, the unconscious man laying on the ground.
“If that were me, I would’ve beat you.” you commented.
“I know,” he responded, searching the man for any weapons. After patting him down, he takes a knife from the man’s pockets.
“That was hot,” you said, winking at him in the dark and hoping he’d see it. You grabbed the knife from him and started walking.
Apparently he didn’t see the wink. Wonder why. “Well yeah, fire is hot.” Zuko responded.
You did a mental facepalm. “I know fire is hot, you dumbass. I was talking about you being able to defend yourself. That was hot.” you repeated. How many times would you have to hit on this guy for him to understand you liked him?
“Oh…” he trailed off, unable to form his confusion into words. Why would you find that hot?
You sensed he didn’t know what to say, so you spoke first. “Let’s go to a nearby village and hope that we can find a place to stay there. It’s too dangerous to be out in the woods.
•••
Luckily the two of you wandered into a village not too far from the forest, and were able to find an elderly couple kind enough to house the two of you for the night.
“It’s so late, a young couple like the two of you shouldn’t be out and about at this hour.” the woman lectured after seeing the two of you walking down the street and hurrying you in her home.
Zuko wanted to correct the woman. “We’re not a cou—”
“Thank you for your kind hospitality. We really appreciate it. We were a little lost on our way and are traveling.” you cut him off abruptly and offered a kind smile to the lady. You grabbed his arm, squeezing it aggressively as a warning to shut up.
After showing you to their guest room, Zuko lit the only candle in the room, the low lighting barely bouncing off his porcelain skin.
“Why did you let her think that we’re a couple?” Zuko questioned, shutting the door behind him.
“Are you stupid? It’ll be suspicious if we tell her we’re just two people traveling together. It’s easier to just pretend we’re a couple so no one questions us.” you explained, but secretly you were happy the lady called you guys a couple.
You set your bag down by the door, taking in the small bedroom. There was an open window across from the door, the bright moonlight shining into the room. Other than a dresser and a chair, a small mat that was big enough to fit two people laid in the center of the room. Eyeing the singular mattress, the silence turned into an awkward moment of hesitation between the two of you. While Zuko probably felt awkward, you were happy. The thought of snuggling up to him claiming you’re cold as an excuse to be close to him crossed your mind. You were secretly excited.
“So I guess we have no choice but to sleep next to each other,” you started, trying to hide how happy you were feeling.
“What? I’m not going to sleep next to you!” he complained.
“Then where are you sleeping?” you questioned, gesturing to the singular mat. “There’s only one.”
“I’m sleeping on that mat. You can sleep on the chair.” he motioned to the uncomfortable looking chair in the corner.
“What?” there was no way you were going to let him take the mat for himself. “But I’m the woman! You should let me have it.”
He was already pulling out his sleeping bag. “You’re my bodyguard, so sleep on the chair and protect me. A man needs his beauty sleep.”
“Beauty sleep my ass,” you were beginning to grow tired and cranky and laid on the mat next to him. “It’ll be easier to protect you if I’m physically closer to you, don’t you think?”
Zuko’s eyes widened, his eyebrow furrowing in annoyance. “Whatever. Just don’t touch me.” he sighed in defeat, turning his back against you and pulling his blanket up and laying on his side his scar is on.
Your eyes trace the lines of his back muscles that are showing through his thinly made shirt. His shoulders are broad, hair covering his nape. Combing his hair behind him, you get a whiff of his shampoo. You can’t help but stare, even though he isn’t facing you. And suddenly you feel nervous. Too nervous to say anything, too nervous to do anything, too nervous to even breathe. The room is filled with silence, the only faint noise being the single candle in the corner of the room burning. What if you’re breathing too loudly? What if he can hear it? What if he thinks you’re a loud breather?
“No weird pickup line?” Zuko’s voice suddenly breaks the silence and your inner thoughts, his voice soft and low in a careful attempt to not wake the elderly couple.
Has his voice always been laced with such sultry and sexiness? Why was he suddenly making conversation? You thought he wanted to sleep, so why is he asking why you’re not flirting with him? Does he know you’re nervous?
“I thought you wanted to sleep,” a lame excuse, but some part of it was true.
Zuko’s body shifts and he turns on to his other side to face you, laying on his arm as his golden eyes search for yours in the dark. When he finally looks at you, you unintentionally hold your breath. The way he is looking at you makes you nervous. His eyes are staring into yours as if he’s all yours and you’re all his. As if you two are lovers and are sharing an intimate moment of eye contact before a kiss.
“The mattress is a little uncomfortable.” he whispers, his voice small and soft.
Was he already laying this close to you?
A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and his eyes refuse to break contact with yours. “What a spoiled royal,” was the only thing you said, you were feeling a little awkward and unsure of what to say. Normally you felt confident flirting with him, but something about tonight made it feel different.
“Of course you’d say that,” he lets out a small chuckle at your comment, his eyes moving down your body as if he is checking you out.
“You smell nice.” you say after a beat. You don’t know what came over you. Only that you thought it and wanted to say it.
“You’ve always been so straightforward,” he says and you’re not sure if he means that as an insult or compliment. “I admire that about you.”
Zuko admires you? You always thought he didn’t think much of you, but maybe you just thought that way because he never actually voiced his opinion of you.
“These last three years have been different,” he continued. “Good different. Ever since I took the throne I’ve been busy with my duties and haven’t had much time to relax. But spending time with you and getting to know you has been really… great.” Zuko has always been a little awkward, understandable since he often does not speak about his feelings.
“That’s it?” you laugh at his awkwardness. “Just great?”
“I think you’re amazing. Getting to know you has been so fun for me. And I’m starting to feel really comfortable around you. You make me feel safe.”
You make Zuko feel safe? Your heart swells at that compliment. “Well, I would hope so. I’m supposed to keep you safe, too.” you joke, and his eyes light up as he smiles. Or maybe it’s just the candle.
“I’m sorry I doubted your ability to protect me. You are a talented bender and an amazing bodyguard. But I want you to know, I will always be there to protect you, too.” he whispers, voice sweet like honey as he leans closer to you, his eyes moving down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your eyes again.
Zuko is even closer to you now, his face lit up by the moonlight. His tongue peeks out and he licks his bottom lip for a second, wandering eyes flickering down to your lips once again.
“You look beautiful in this light,” you comment, your eyes scanning his features.
“Are you saying I don’t look beautiful in any other light?” he asks, a teasing smile plastered on his face.
“Yeah, you only look this good when it’s almost completely dark and the only source of light is the moon.” he laughs at your response, a low chuckle escaping his lips.
“Can you see my scar?” he asks, insecurity in his voice.
“Yes, and it looks good. Scars build character.” As someone who’s received scars from living out on the streets and constantly getting into fights to rob people, you have a couple scars yourself. Although they may be an imperfection on the skin, all your scars tell a story and are unique to you.
Zuko wonders if you knew that he was feeling insecure about it. He has always been insecure about it since it’s a reminder of what his father did to him, and it’s never helped that he hears people always whispering about it in the palace.
“Do you have any scars?” he asks, unsure if the question is crossing a boundary.
“A couple.”
“Can I… Can I see them?” he anxiously asks you, his voice softer and more submissive. He is afraid you’re going to say no and afraid if you do that it will be awkward.
“Do you just want to see me naked, Zuko? You could’ve just asked.” you tease.
His eyes practically jump out of their sockets. His face flushes and his embarrassment travels down to his neck, red and and feeling even more awkward and nervous than before.
“W-What? That’s not what I meant! I was just—I didn’t mean for it to come off like that! I was only asking that because I’m insecure about my scar and—” Zuko keeps speaking, faster than before and more panicked. You chuckle, amused by how he tries to back himself up. He continues to rant and stutter a bit before you hold up your hand to shush him.
“You know, Zuko, for someone who doesn’t say much, you’re saying an awful lot right now. And you’re not even saying much. You're just rambling on and on.” you lecture, raising an eyebrow to prove your point.
“I’m just a little nervous,” he confesses.
“Why’s that?”
“Because. I can't tell if you’re joking with me when you say the stuff you say.”
“What do I say?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t. What kind of stuff do I say to you?”
He sighs in frustration. He doesn’t want to say it. “Like, like when you called me hot… earlier.”
“You thought I was talking about the fire.”
“Yes, and then you said that you weren’t.” he says all confused; all you’re doing is trying to get him to stop beating around the bush and be straightforward, but it’s too nerve wracking for him.
“Because I wasn’t.”
“Right,”
“Right.” you agree.
“So, then you said—you said you were talking about me.”
“I did say that.”
“Yeah…” he trails off, unable to form a sentence.
“What’s your point? What are you trying to get at?” you’re teasing him. You know exactly what he wants to ask. You know he wants to ask if you have feelings for him, but he’s too afraid you’ll say no and he’s afraid to make it awkward.
Cute.
“I guess what I’m trying to ask is… if you, maybe, perhaps, possibly…”
“Like you?” you finish his question for him. Because if you don’t, he’ll take all night.
He stops himself from saying anything, face full of uncertainty and confusion. He stares at you, waiting—hoping that you will speak first. You have always led the conversations between the two of you, so now that he has to do it, he is lost and looking for help.
“What do you think?” you ask, turning the question on to him. You want to see what he will say.
“I…” Zuko trails off once more. “I would hope so.” His voice is hushed, low and subtle. If you weren’t listening so closely and weren’t so close to him physically, you wouldn’t have heard him. Through his whispering, he sounds hopeful, almost as if he is asking—begging you to feel something for him.
“You would hope so?” you repeat and he nods in response. “And why is that?”
“Because… I think I would feel upset if you didn’t like me.” he confesses, taking a deep breath. He looks as if he is trying to control his breathing. Is he nervous? Turned on? Or does he just have trouble breathing?
You smirk. “Why would you feel upset, Zuko?”
A faint pout forms on his pretty lips. His eyes droop and he looks like he is about to complain. “Are you really going to make me say it?”
You nod.
“I would feel upset because I like you. I like you more than just my bodyguard. I like you more than just a friend. I like you more than just a talented bender who can take my life with a single lightning bolt. I like you more than you can even imagine.” Zuko finally confesses, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.
“You like me? More than you like your honor?” you joke; you don’t want him feeling so tense around you.
“Yes. A lot more.”
“Good,” is your only response before you lean in. His lips are warm and soft and inviting. You feel your loud heartbeat through your ears and it feels as if the entire world has paused just for the two of you to kiss.
To him, your kiss is intoxicating yet sweet. Addicting, so addicting he wants more. Zuko has never felt aroused by a simple kiss until now. He tilts his head, hopeful to kiss more of you. He feels himself losing control, his thoughts are wandering yet he is still staying put, his hands to himself because even though he wants more, he doesn’t want to make the first move. You have always led the conversations, so he is hoping you will lead this kiss too. Trying to control his breathing through his nose, he can’t help but moan quietly into your mouth, heat reaching his cheeks in embarrassment. He feels you smirk against his lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your soft fingertips cup his cheek, gently caressing his scarred skin with a tender love he has never felt before.
His hands hesitantly make their way to your waist, gently wrapping around your middle as he pulls you in closer to him. Zuko presses himself against you, desperate to feel more than just your lips against him. You feel his heart beating hard against your chest, the right grip on your waist firm. He quietly moans against you, slight whimpers being held back as he pushes himself into you, desperate for more. Desperate for something, anything.
“Ah,” he quietly whimpers, his hand grabbing at yours and holding it to his chest. You flex your hand slightly, taking the opportunity to feel his pecs. Someone has been working out. “Please,” he begins. He sounds so desperate; you’ve never heard him like this before, but you like it. “More, I want more. Please, do something.”
Zuko wraps his legs around yours, pushing his hips forward to meet yours, his body desperate for more affection and more friction. He is starting to slip, becoming more and more desperate each passing second. You can feel him through the thin material of his pants, dick hard and pressed up against your body. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. Looking into Zuko’s eyes, you can see everything he is feeling in them. Aroused, in love, submissive, and breedable desperate.
“Would you like to see my scars?” you ask, earning a gentle smile from him.
“Only if you would like me to see.”
“I don’t mind.” you smile back, pulling away from him and lifting the blanket. Eyeing the wet spot on his crotch, Zuko quickly pulls part of the blanket onto his lap, embarrassed that you noticed.
“Sorry,” he says shyly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you grin, sitting up and lifting part of your shirt to expose your lower stomach. “See this?” you ask. Zuko sits up with you and leans in slightly to look at your lower stomach. He can’t tell if you have been stabbed or sliced, but whatever happened, the scar looks deep and painful. “Got it in an assisination mission.”
“It must’ve hurt,” he whispers, his fingertips reaching out towards it. He looks up at you, eyes asking for permission to touch your scar. When you nod, his fingers gently ghost over the imperfection, feeling it slowly.
“Well I killed him, so he was probably in more pain than I was.” you laugh, remembering the man you killed.
“Do you have any more?” His eyes are full of curiosity, eager to learn more about your past and about your body.
“I have one on my thigh,” you tell him.
Zuko eyes your pajama pants. “You don’t have to show me. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Oh, so you don’t want me to take off my pants?” you joke. “I see how it is…”
“No! Of course I would like to see. Please?” he smiles shyly, hoping you’ll say yes.
“Hmm, I don’t know… you don’t seem very desperate to see…”
Zuko shakes his head in defeat, giving into you as he leans in. He kisses your cheek sweetly, his lips slowly moving down towards your neck. “Please,” he whispers. He leaves slow and sweet kisses, his hand coming up to your thigh to caress it. His large hand glides upwards on your thigh, nearing where you want it the most. “Please, show me…” his hand stops, gripping your thigh.
“Since you wanna see that bad, I suppose I could show you.” you begin to unlace your pants.
“You just wanted to see me beg,”
“Well, yes. And it was nice. I quite enjoyed it.” you laugh, kicking off your pants so you’re wearing nothing but your underwear and your top. Zuko looks, stares, admires your beauty. He looks down at the scar, smaller than the one on your stomach, but it still looks painful.
“I got stabbed. Another assassination.”
“Did you end up killing them?”
“Yeah, so no biggie.”
Zuko is quiet, unsure of what he should do. Should he let you talk about it, or should he ask about it? You’re quiet and he doesn’t know if that’s because you want something else, or if you don’t want to talk about it. Unsure, he leans down, his lips leaving a gentle kiss on your scar. At the same time, he eyes your underwear, a wet spot forming where he wants to kiss the most. He looks up, feeling himself grow hard again.
“Even with your scars, you are still beautiful.” he whispers, leaning up to leave a kiss on your lips.
“I know that, Zuko. I never said I didn’t feel beautiful because of my scars.”
“Oh,” he feels so stupid. Why did he assume you felt ugly with all your scars? You were not like him. “Sorry.”
“If you’re so sorry, make it up to me.” you smirk and lift your shirt up, exposing your breasts to him.
His eyes begin to wander, trying to memorize the curve of your breasts and where your scar is on your stomach. Leaning down, he buries his face into your chest. He leaves a gentle kiss on one of your nipples, his hand coming up to massage the other. His entire hand wraps around your breast, squeezing and kneading as he opens his mouth around your nipple, sucking on the skin. He leaves wet kisses as his lips move down on your body, stopping to kiss your stomach scar. Laying you back down, he starts kissing your lower stomach as his fingertips tease the band of your underwear. Your hips jerk up, signaling to him that he needs to do something. Gently pulling your underwear down and off, he crawls between your legs, eager to please you.
You spread your legs, exposing your wetness to his lips. He leans in, tongue carefully licking at you. You let a breath out, tugging on his locks to where you need him the most. He moans, almost more excited than you are and sucks on your clit. When you pull his hair, desperate for him to be tougher, he moans again, his hips grinding against the mattress in an attempt to relieve himself. Zuko pulls away for a second, sitting up in front of you. He pulls at his pants, impatiently yanking them down as he frees himself. His cock springs upwards, and he moans in relief.
“Can I touch myself?” he begs, his voice a whimper as he leans back down, face in between your legs again.
You nod and he leans back into you again, his tongue working at your clit again and sucking on it. One of his hands grips your thigh, slowly making its way to your entrance. His other hand strokes himself, his hips bucking into his own hand as his other hand begins to tease your entrance. You’re practically dripping, hips bucking up into his face as he pushes himself into you. Zuko’s fingers rub at your entrance, a mix of his saliva and your arousal allowing him to push a finger into you. He moans into you, his finger curving as he strokes himself faster. His hips desperately fuck into his hand as his lips desperately suck on to your clit. He moans, excited to please you as he also pleases himself. Feeling him moan and whimper against you and seeing him so desperate for his release he touches himself has you gripping his roots and pulling him into you. Your grip on him is strong and hurts, but arouses him more and his moans begin to grow louder.
“Ngh, fuck,” he pants, his hand stroking his dick. “You taste so good.”
“You’re too loud, Zuko,” it’s late at night and the elderly couple housing the two of you might hear and that would be absolutely mortifying.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” he moans again, pulling away to bite down on his lip. His hair has been messed up and there is a blush on his cheeks, his lips wet with your arousal and his saliva.
He leans down again, inserting a second finger and curling them, making you let out a loud moan. You cover your mouth with your other hand as the other one continues to grip his hair. He licks at you in desperation, eager and determined to make you orgasm. His long and thick fingers move in and out of you as he continues sucking at your clit, licking and tasting it as you move your hips towards him faster.
“Ahh,” he whimpers again, moaning against you as you desperately buck your hips upwards, the vibrations of his moans and the sweet sound of his whimpers sending you over the edge. Your legs wrap around his neck and he continues to finger you, his own hips moving faster as he fucks himself. The moans you let out make him move faster, desperate to hear you as he pleasures himself. He shakes, thrusts staggered as he finishes off of your moans and your own orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your heavy breaths and Zuko’s kisses he leaves on your thigh and stomach again, making sure to kiss your scars as well.
“So…” he begins. “Do you like me? Or….”
“What?” you ask, out of breath.
“Well, you never said if you do or not.” he questions, sitting up and reaching for his bag to look for something to clean you up.
“Oh my god,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss him. “I thought it was obvious.”
“It’s not.”
“You’re so clueless,” you smack his head playfully. “Yes, I do. I wasn’t lying the previous times I hinted at it.”
“Good,” he breathes a sigh of relief before kissing you again.
•••
“I told you that you were too loud!” you nag Zuko, angrily shoving his shoulder as the two of of you walk down the road in the middle of the night after being kicked out of the elderly couple’s house.
“Me? You were the one who wouldn’t shut the fuck up!” he rubs his shoulder in an attempt to soothe it. You were much stronger than you looked.
“No stupid, that was you! You were louder than me and got us kicked out! See what you did!” you yelled.
“Oh, shut up! You liked it!” Zuko fires back, rolling his eyes.
•••
a/n: bye i didn’t even mean to write smut it j happened 💀
m.list
#zuko#zuko x you#zuko x reader#atla zuko#atla#avatar the last airbender#zuko fluff#zuko smut#zuko fic#sub zuko#sub!zuko#dom reader#atla fic#atla fanfic#zuko fanfic#dom!reader#prince zuko#fire lord zuko#prince zuko x reader#prince zuko x you#fem reader#zuko x y/n
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Could I request an angst and fluff/comfort fic where the reader is the long lost half-sister of both Azriel and Cassian. (She shares a father with Cassian and a mother with Azriel.) She’s super shy and they are protective of her. Maybe they find her in a dangerous situation and save her. Thank you and I love your writing ☺️
hi my love! thank you for the kind words and for the request. I love this idea, I hope you like it💜 (omg I wrote and posted this whole thing before I noticed the “long lost” part I’m sorry)
A New Illyria
Cassian x Azriel x Valkyrie sister!Reader
Warnings: mentions of injury, violence, mentions of torture
Cold snow seeped through your combat boots, the familiar cold air of Windhaven bringing a pink tinge to your nose and cheeks. Teeth chattered next to you, a smirk on your face as you turned to see Nesta rubbing her arms as she fought the cold.
“How do you stand this?” she gritted through her teeth, eyes focused on the Valkyries sparring on the training mats ahead of you.
“I was born here. Velaris is almost too warm for me,” you joked, pausing the conversation to call out a correction to a young warrior’s form.
Nesta made a gagging sound at the mention of your childhood. “I will never understand how you turned out even relatively normal growing up here, and with Cassian and Azriel as brothers?” She rolled her eyes in jest, a small laugh escaping her at the thought.
“I wouldn’t have survived without them, really. Azriel protected me from our father, kept my wings from being clipped. And without Cassian, I never would have met Rhys and his mother either. They’re a better family, and brothers, than I could have dreamed of.”
Willing back the tears that lined your eyes at the thought of your family, you stepped assertively into the ring. Turning over your shoulder, you winked at Nesta, adding, “and best of all, they trained me.”
“Alright Valkyries, listen up,” you called, Nesta stepping up to stand along side you as you addressed your warriors. “You are dismissed from training for today. I suggest you get some good rest tonight, because we’ll being sparring with the Illyrian males tomorrow as we prepare to combine forces against Koschei.”
With a nod of dismissal, you and Nesta left the training center, heading back to the strategy tent where your brothers stood with Rhys and Feyre, all focused on a map of Prythian. Cassian wrapped Nesta in a hug, her attitude instantly improving at his warm arms wrapped around her. Azriel came over to you, your brother pulling you in for a hug as he brought you over to the strategy board.
“How did training go?” He asked, hazel eyes watching carefully as he brought his arm around your shoulder.
You glanced at Nesta, the two of you sharing a tired look as you let out a wry laugh. “It was fine. The Valkyries are more than prepared, but I can’t say the same for the Illyrians. I saw Devlon and some others watching our training. They’re still furious about our being welcome to train here.”
Rhys’s violet eyes pierced you, the raw power of a High Lord shining through. “They will follow the orders given to them, or face the consequences.” You nodded to him, his promise doing little to settle the unease that filled you as you recalled the looks you’d received since your arrival.
You ate dinner quickly at the Valkyries’ food hall before heading to your private tent on the females’ side of the camp. As feelings of restlessness and nausea roiled through your body, you tossed and turned in your cot for what felt like hours - until you heard a crack in the distance, followed by a shout.
Drawing your dagger, you crept through the flaps of your tent, vision struggling to focus in the dark night as you left to investigate. A rustling sound came from the edge of the camp, your instincts on alert as you prepared to face your attacker.
You released a deep breath as Nesta revealed herself as the cause of the noise, peering out of her shared tent with Cassian as her silvery eyes locked with yours. She strode towards you, looking around warily when she reached your tent.
“Did you hear that shout?” she whispered, a white-knuckle grip on Ataraxia as she examined the surrounding tents for any sign of disturbance.
You nodded, gesturing towards the other edge of camp where a light flickered behind a tent. “It sounded like it came from that direction. Might just be nothing,” you breathed, that nausea creeping in your gut from earlier.
Wiping the sweat from your brow, you looked to Nesta, who seemed as unsteady as you felt. “Let’s just go check it out. Make sure everything is okay,” she whispered, not waiting before stalking towards the light.
As you neared the tent, you heard muffled sounds, a clatter of metal before glass shattered to the ground. The tent caught fire, flames quickly spreading across the structure. Opening your mouth to let out a call for help, a hand wrapped around you, dagger piercing your wing as your vision grew blurry. You saw the glint of Ataraxia in the moonlight as it clattered to the ground from Nesta’s hand before the world faded to black.
The first thing you noticed when you awoke was the pounding against your skull, your vision fading in and out of focus. Your tried to bring your hands to rub your eyes, instead feeling cold iron shackled around your wrists. Alertness came to you at the realization, suddenly more aware of your arms stretched high above your head, the sharp pain through your wings, spread out and nailed to the wall.
Your voice echoed faintly through your mind, heavy head craning to see Nesta, Gwyn, and other shackled to the walls on either side of you. “Faebane,” you uttered out, recognizing the feeling from what you’d heard of the drug.
Gwyn nodded, her eyes heavy as she leaned against the cold stone. “They laced our food with it. All of the Valkyries.”
You didn’t have the energy to respond, searing pain cutting through as your wings twitched against their restraints. You had failed these females, your soldiers. You bit your lip to hold back the tears that threatened to fall when a heavy door swung open.
Devlon strode into the room, the smug grin on his face mirrored by the number of Illyrian males flanking him on each side. “Your halfbreed High Lord is a fool to believe he has control over these camps. Much less your bastard brother,” he clicked his tongue, glancing toward where Nesta glared at him from the other side of the room.
“We will not allow our resources and weapons to be sullied by females any longer. You are a waste of space, hindering real warriors’ abilities to prepare for the upcoming war.” Devlon pulled a dagger - your dagger - from his holster, a wicked gleam in his eye as he held it to the light.
“Despite our attempts at discussion as to why you are a plague on this camp, our message seems to have fallen on deaf ears. Unsurprising when halfbred bastards are in charge.”
Refusing to show your fear, you maintained eye contact with Devlon as he slammed your dagger into the stone just above your wing, grazing the blade against the sensitive membrane. “I think that your wings on display at camp would be a fitting memo, don’t you?”
Gathering what little moisture remained in your weakened body, you spat in Devlon’s eye, the warlord rearing back in anger as he delivered a slap to your face. You smiled through bloody teeth at him, the Illyrian visibly shaken by your reaction. Curling his lip in disgust, Devlon pulled your wing taut as he twirled the dagger in his other hand - only to be interrupted by the door bursting open, blue and red light flashing throughout the room as male warriors dropped dead.
Heads turned, a bright smile lighting your features as you finally let the tears fall at the sight of your brothers. Rage filled their eyes, Cassian cutting down any male who stood between himself and Nesta as he sought his mate. Azriel ripped Devlon off of you, flinging the male to the ground as his head hit stone with a sickening crunch.
Rhys followed behind, waving away your shackles with a flick of his hand. Azriel caught you, holding you close to his chest as your brother apologized profusely. You shook your head, holding him as close as your sore muscles would allow.
Cassian pulled Nesta along with him, the three of you embracing while Azriel went to help Gwyn and the rest. When you returned to the camps, they were noticeably more empty than usual, and one look at the dark swirls of anger in Rhys’s eyes told you all that you needed to know.
Your army would be down in numbers, but stronger in alliance as you prepared to defend your home. All of you slept in the cabin that night, finding comfort in being with your brothers, and planning for tomorrow when you would rebuild the Night Court - forming an army that defended and valued all of its citizens.
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#azriel acotar#acotar cassian#cassian#rhys acotar#the valkyries#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfic#acotar azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel#cassian x reader#cassian acotar#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader#azriel x you#cassian imagine#azriel imagine#cassian x you#cassian fanfic#azriel fic#azriel acotar x reader#acotar angst
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Harry Potter’s Twin
Pairings: Harry Potter x twin!reader
Requested by: @insomniacwreck Could you do like Harry x twin! Reader? Like how he’d act, at the Dursley’s and Hogwarts maybe?
Warnings: idk, child neglect? the Dursley family treatment of Harry, the word murder is like once or twice other than that idk, not proofread
A/N sorry for not posting anything in a while, but I had to take a pause bc ✨depression✨, it just hit extra hard this time, but hey at least a bit of my creativity is back, but I’ve mostly been drawing, anyway here’s a headcanon bc why not
Did I know what I was writing half of the time, no the answer is no
I see a lot of fics where Harry and his twin sleeps together under the staircase, but if I’m honest I don’t think two people would fit to sleep there, even if they are small, so I’d say the Dursley’s would give the smallest room, that could be used as a actual room to the potter twins. Of course there’s be minimal decoration, two small beds that used to be Dudley’s, along with an really old wardrobe and nightstand, probably a really small desk if they could fit it, just so that they could actually do schoolwork (thank Petunia)
Both Harry and his twin would do most of the chores, except the few times Petunia does them, washing, making breakfast, dishing, cleaning, you get what I mean
Beating each others only friend growing up, until you started hogwarts that is
I’d think as you are both each other only way of affection you’d probably have a habit of falling asleep in each others beds cuddled up together
As cliché as it might be I do love the fics where the twin is like a replica of James (in looks and personality) and as Harry has his mother’s eyes his twin has his fathers eyes, but I wanted to say was every family needs a rebel, and if the twin acts like James they sure as hell would be classified as a rebel in the Dursley household
Getting in a lot of trouble, like a lot (some by accident some not by accident)
“Stealing” things from Dudley making him question his sanity as he knew he put it down just moments before (he usually blames you though)
Standing up for eachother whenever you get scolded or yelled at
“Stealing” food at night when you weren’t allowed any
Thinking you were both crazy the first time you both used magic by accident
Sharing clothes is a pain but you make it work
Being each others happiness, especially on your birthday as you smile at each other and say “happy birthday Harry” “Happy birthday Y/N” at the same time
Having twin powers, you know finishing each other sentences, knowing when something bad happens to the other, knowing what you’re both thinking (I swear twin powers are somewhat real, I’m a triplet and we have the same power)
Grabbing a letter from the floor instead of the one’s flying (I had to okay, Harry was really dumb that time)
Laughing hysterically when Harry accidentally makes aunt marge into a ballon
Time for the fun part starting Hogwarts
You’d probably be attached to the hip at the beginning, while you’re wandering Diagon Alley with all the knew strange people, you both got your own owls btw, even when on the train you’d be right by each other trying to calm down your nervousness, and anxiety over starting a new school with magic in which you know nothing about, let’s not forget you are both famous for some unknown reason to the both of you
Neither of you cared what house you got in, hoping it was the same house but if it wasn’t you’d be fine with that to, maybe a bit hard to sleep the first night, bc you usually sleep next to each other or at least the same room, personally I would love for Harry’s twin to be a Hufflepuff I don’t know why I just love the idea
A few weeks into the first school year you’d separate a bit, getting friends of your own, but you’d probably be friends with Hermione and Ron too, you could always go to Hermione if you needed help with anything, as she could always go to you with anything, Ron if I’m honest don’t go to him with everything we all know how he is with Harry and the triwizard tournament. But hey anything food related, Ron is your guy.
Yes I do love it when Fred and George are your best friends, and if I’m honest I can see the two older twins taking you under their wing and teaching you all they know, you knew about the map two years before Harry did.
Friends: Fred and George like stated before, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Luna later on when you meet her we all gotta have that one friend (me I’m that friend), obviously Harry as he’s your twin, probably Cedric somehow, it would be fun if you were more friendly to Draco too, oh I gotta as Oliver Wood love that guy, If I’m honest I don’t remember the names of any Ravenclaw s but you’re probably friends with some of them too , as well as Slytherins, we do not follow stereotypes here
Teasing Ginny about her crush on Harry
Detentions
Snape “hating” you
Everyone looking at you like you lit the stars in the sky because you survived the killing curse
It would be fun if you were somewhat oblivious to Harry’s shenanigans being to occupied with your pranks with the Weasley twins. But Harry does fill you in on things so you aren’t completely in the dark, you just couldn’t care less if someone was out to murder you again
Loving Fluffy and Buckbeak because they’re adorable 🥰
Defeating Quirrell/Voldemort together in your first year
You’d probably be able to speak with snakes too though, and in your second year you did it to scare people of who thought you was the one who opened the chamber of secrets
Getting paralyzed with Hermione by the basilisk
Fast forward to Sirius escaping, I’m going with Sirius being Harry’s godfather, and Remus being your godfather, because I cannot leave Remus out my boy doesn’t deserve that
Remus tells you a lot of stories about your parents
Remus doesn’t even want to know how many detentions you’ve gotten by know nor how many times you’ve been in the hospital wing
Getting Fred and George to try and find Sirius Black with you because you want answers and Draco might of let a few things slip when the two of you talked
You did not to your knowledge succeed in finding Sirius but you did find a dog who you brought food a lot of times
Remus and Sirius being proud of both you and Harry for being on the Quidditch team, two of the best players, you being chaser
Knowing Remus is a werewolf bc he told you, but you never told Harry because you wanted to have a secret with your godfather that Harry didn’t know, and if you’re ere honest you could never know how people would react to someone just casually saying “btw our teacher is a werewolf”
A lot of time is spent talking to Remus about your problems and everything else in your life the other time is spent with the Weasley twins
Not getting selected for the triwizard tournament but still somehow ending up at the graveyard with Harry and Cedric
Pranking umbridge a lot, did not end well for your hands, as they are littered with scars from the pen she made you use
I don’t want to cry today so we will just say that you saved Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Fred’s life so no tears today
Yeah that’s about it I think, a lot of chaos ensures after Dumbledore’s death, and eventually Voldemort is finally defeated and you live the rest of your life happily, probably becoming an Auror,
Bonus: would be fun if you published a book, “ the twins who lived” written by Y/N Potter, bestselling book and used in history of magic in the future when referencing to the events of the war with Voldemort
#x reader#x teen#x teen!reader#x you#harry potter x teen!reader#Harry Potter x reader#Harry Potter x twin!reader#harry potter x sister!reader#Harry Potter x sibling!reader#Harry Potter x brother!reader#Harry Potter x platonic!reader
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(Very late) Christmas special! Yuri Briar
Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader
Beware! This fic DOES contain SPOILERS for the manga and for the Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series: An Alliance (part 1)!
This can be read with or without reading my Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series: An Alliance (part 1).
Series information: Setting is AFTER the reader rejoined WISE (so Yuri and [Y/N] are married and [Y/N] becomes an official double-spy).
This is NOT a replacement or part 10 for the Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series!
The city air smelt like hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts. The town’s street lamps were decorated with yellow christmas lights and green wreaths. Children squished their faces against the cold windows of toy stores, gazing at what they want on their Christmas lists. Candies filled with marshmallows and peppermint advertised at the local grocery store. Yuri and I strolled through the town hand-in-hand, looking for gifts for the Forger family.
“Do you have any idea what they’d want for Christmas?” I questioned, looking into store windows for anything that caught my eye.
“I’m not sure. Yor said that she was fine with anything.” Yuri spoke, just as lost as me.
“Well what about Loid and Anya?” I asked, turning my head to look at Yuri.
“Do we have to buy them gifts?” Yuri grimaced.
“They’re family.” I huffed. “Don’t be mean. And don’t even think about going to the Christmas party with an attitude to Loid. I’ll whack you.” I threatened.
“I don’t even know what we’d give Loid. He’s so… reserved?” Yuri spoke. “He doesn’t talk much about himself other than work.”
“I see what you mean.” I hummed. “So work is obviously an important thing in his life.”
“His main priority should be caring for Yor…” Yuri huffed.
“We can talk about this later. The shops will close early because it's Christmas Eve, so we have no time to be complaining about stuff like that.” I pointed out. "Loid values work, we could get him something for work. Like, maybe a new journal to write notes? He is a psychiatrist after all.” I suggested.
At least his public cover is. I thought to myself.
I tried to think more deeply on what Twilight likes without accidentally revealing to Yuri that I know him more than just his sister's husband. Of course I know things about him that Yuri and Yor won't, I did basically grow up with him almost my entire life, so I consider him like a brother and my best friend. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I basically knew nothing of Twilight's interests or hobbies. He's always been so work-oriented compared to my laid-back nature.
My realization led me to questioning everything I knew about Twilight. Is the personality I've associated with him almost my whole life a cover personality? Am I such a bad sister and best friend that I don't even know his favorite damn color? What he likes to do in his free time?
While I had an internal existential crisis, Yuri dragged me out of my thoughts.
"Hey, there's a bookstore over there. We can go find Loid's journal there?" Yuri suggested, pointing his finger at a small bookstore.
"Yeah, okay." I nodded, dragging Yuri into the store with me. "Along with a journal, we can get Loid a book too. I'm just unsure of what types of books he'd enjoy."
"We have to get him more than one gift?" Yuri sighed, obviously displeased at the idea.
"Just wait till we get to Anya." I hummed. "She's a child, so she should get the most presents."
"When I was a kid, I didn't celebrate Christmas." Yuri pointed out.
I did. Growing up as a West spy, the Handler would put time aside and host a Christmas party at HQ. She made sure to give small gifts to all spies (most likely to avoid promotions). Since I was a kid and the youngest on the team, she made sure my gifts were a little more special than my fellow spies. I remember the first year I joined WISE, she gifted me a warm sweater with comfortable short fur inside and the exterior was soft and gray, along with a raspberry candy cane. I cried so hard that day because I was so touched she bothered getting me something despite our relationship being something of a teacher and student. Now a days, I see her more of the closest thing I have to a mother in my life, and I make sure to give her a present every year too.
Speaking of the Handler, I need to find a gift for her too. I might be able to sneak out later and buy something while Yuri is sleeping. I thought to myself.
"Maybe a book on psychology?" Yuri questioned.
"No. I wanna get him something for him to enjoy that's not all work-related." I spoke.
Besides, me and him already know quite a bit of psychology as it is. I thought.
Maybe something like mystery? No, he'd figure out the mystery too quick. Suspense? No, he'd just get mad at the character's decisions for being stupid. Romance? Nope, he seems to have little interest in the subject. Maybe something dystopian? Eh, we've faced a war together and live under oppressed governments with the possibility of war, we have our own silent dystopian going on. Maybe something involving self-help, like how not to be robotic. It'd be a good gag gift, but like I said, I want him to enjoy it. Historical? No, we know just about everything in history.
"Ah! Science fiction!" I exclaimed loudly.
"Like... robots?" Yuri questioned.
"I dunno, maybe. I think Loid would enjoy the genre." I spoke.
"How so?" Yuri questioned.
"He's smart, he is a psychiatrist after all. He'll probably like something that's mixed with reality but still have hints of fiction in it. Smart people like smart things like science! It'd be something to get his brain working and still enjoy it." I spoke.
"Pssh, anyone can listen to a person's problems and give out solutions." Yuri huffed.
"That's not all they do, Yuri. They also—" I paused, deciding it wasn't worth going in depth. "Ah, never mind. Let's just find something good for him to read."
Me and Yuri walked to the science fiction section, looking for anything that caught our eyes. Yuri didn’t exactly do much of the searching since it included being “too buddy-buddy with Loi-Loi” so I did the searching myself.
“Oh, what about 1984? I heard that was good.” I spoke. “I remember hearing it was featured in the newspaper, it’s relatively new, published in 1948.”
I might steal this after Twilight finishes reading it. I thought to myself.
“Yeah, sure.” Yuri spoke.
“Hm… what do you think Yor would like? I was thinking of giving her a new set of earrings as my gift. What’s on your mind?” I questioned.
“Well… she likes apples, specifically this Whistle Candy we had as kids, the apple flavored ones.” Yuri explained.
“That’s a good start. We can go to the market and buy those.” I smiled. “I want to stop by a jewelry store and buy her a set of gold earrings, I noticed her jewelry was gold so I figured she’d might appreciate it.”
“You noticed.” Yuri spoke, tears in his eyes.
“Why are you tearing up?” I questioned, a little confused.
“Just… you’re so thoughtful of her too. She loves you so much as her sister-in-law so it’d make her so happy to know you paid attention to her interests.” Yuri cried, wiping his nose.
I resisted the urge to tell him I was observing her to make sure she wasn’t an obstacle in STRIX’s mission or a hazard to Twilight’s mental health (now that I’ve spent time with her, I’m aware she’s a wonderful person, but I was on my guard when we first met, especially knowing how hard she can hit someone).
“Of course I care, Yuri. She’s family to me, just like Anya and Loid are.” I smiled.
The names of his sister’s husband and daughter leaving my lips immediately dried his eyes and made him grimace. “Blegh…”
“Wow. I should use that more against you when you’re upset if it makes you forget what you were crying about in the first place.” I smiled, a little impressed.
“Don’t you use those two… imbeciles... against me.” Yuri threatened, a glint in his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah.” I hummed. “Let’s find an empty notebook now. I'm thinking something blue, or blue and white."
Yuri nodded as we walked together, looking around to find a journal. I've seen empty journals in bookstores before, so surely this bookstore can't be an exception. I took Yuri to the front of the bookstore where there would usually be little souvenirs or many pens. I found a plain midnight blue journal and held it up to Yuri.
"What do you think?" I questioned.
"Looks like a journal." Yuri spoke.
"Helpful." I hummed sarcastically, before opening the journal.
I felt the texture of the pages and the cover, along with the page colors, the spacing and colors of the lines, and the sturdiness of the spine before deeming it acceptable.
"Okay, Yuri. Let's go pay for these then we can go for Yor's presents." I spoke.
Yuri nodded, grabbing my hand as we walked to the cash register together.
"How about you pay for Loid's and Anya's gifts, and I'll pay for Yor's? Her earrings will probably be expensive." Yuri spoke.
"I mean, I have certain earrings I'm looking for, so I can buy them." I explained.
"No. I got them. Loid's and Anya's gifts will probably tally up to around the earrings price." Yuri explained.
"And you wanna buy your sister's presents yourself?" I smiled.
"Yes." Yuri admitted quickly.
"Well, if you really insist." I sighed, deciding it wasn't worth fighting him.
When we got to the cashier, I took out my wallet from my purse and handed the cashier the amount of dalc they wanted from me. The bagged the books and handed it to me, telling us "happy holidays" as we left.
"Okay. Let's go to the jewelry store first, then the grocery store for that whistle candy you were talking about." I hummed, rearranging the fluffy red scarf wrapped around my neck.
Yuri nodded as I grabbed his red mitten, having him follow me. During our walk, I looked around at the shop windows to see if I could find any present for Yuri. I wasn't exactly sure what to get him; he was a pretty simple guy who'd love just about everything I'd give him, but I wanted to give him something that was actually meaningful and something he could really enjoy. The problem is Yuri doesn't have many interests besides Yor and work, so I'm really limited with potential gift ideas.
"Why are you glaring at me like that?" Yuri questioned, confused.
"I'm cold." I lied.
I'm glaring at you because you're a troublesome brat to make happy. I thought.
"Even in all those layers? We'll be at the store soon enough, so don't worry." Yuri spoke.
I nodded, thinking of what I could get him. Maybe he likes whistle candy like Yor? But that's so boring, not to mention unoriginal since we're getting Yor it. I could get him something like a candle? But that's not long lasting, and I have no idea what his favorite scents are.
"Yuri, I'm thinking of changing my perfume sometime soon. What do you think I should go with?" I questioned.
"I don't know? Something floral or citrus like most perfumes? It's your perfume." Yuri hummed.
"Yeah, but I want your input. You're my husband so I don't want to get a scent you don't like." I explained.
"I doubt there's a perfume that I don't like. Just don't have it too strong?" Yuri spoke.
Sometimes I wanna punch his stupid face for being so damn hard to shop for. Seriously, how can someone simple be such a challenge to shop for? Even Twilight is easier to shop for!
Yuri and I walked to the store to get the whistle candy Yuri said Yor liked. During the time, I thought of what good gifts Anya would have. I wanted to spoil the kid and give her a good Christmas. I've always wanted to be a cool aunt but now that I lost my entire family I can't do that anymore.
No, I didn't lose my entire family, only a part of it. I still have Twilight and the Handler, and Yuri and Yor and Anya. My mother is still out there too, somewhere in this world. The thought left me feeling a little better from the other sudden intrusive depressing thought I had.
Anya likes peanuts and stuffed toys, I know that. She likes that one spy tv show too, whatever it was called. The episodes I watched with her are a little interesting, I might watch it myself to be honest (perhaps I can learn a thing or two I'm unaware of). I briefly thought about getting her a coat or a cute dress, but then I remembered being a kid and disliked getting clothes as gifts. She does like sweets too.
Oh! They have dog too! I remember Twilight telling me about that, trying to train it to attack on command. Apparently the dog is a rescue from Project Apple, where he was trained along with many other dogs to become highly intelligent military animals. I wonder if the dog is huge and scary, like a German Shepard or a Pit Bull with that kind of reputation? Hey, maybe I can convince Yuri to get a dog or a cat!
Wait, focus. We're here for gifts.
"Yuri, when we get the candy let's go to the toy section next." I spoke.
"Aren't you a bit old for toys?" Yuri smirked, earning him a glare from me.
"Shut it." I huffed. "It's for Anya, I wanna see if there's any good toys around here she might like. I always wanna get her peanuts and stuffed animals."
"Peanuts?" Yuri spoke, making a face. "What kid wants peanuts for Christmas?"
"Apparently Anya." I shrugged. "Don't question it, kids are weird and have weird Christmas lists. Besides, it's better than like, I dunno, a 20 dalc dolly or something."
"I guess that's true." Yuri hummed, grabbing a bag of candy from the shelves.
It was the whistle candy Yuri was talking about. It's comes in a pack of eight circular candies with a hole in the middle. Yuri grabbed two apple flavored packs, holding them in his hands since we didn't grab a cart.
"Hey, it looks like the American candy Life Savers!" I pointed out. "This whistle candy you speak of, does it actually make you whistle?" I questioned, glancing at the candies.
"Yeah. You can whistle through them." He nodded.
"That's cool." I smiled.
I took a look at all the candies, grabbing a few chocolate peanut candy bars and other candies like gummy bears, Fun Dips, marshmallow Circus Peanuts, and Jolly Ranchers before my eyes spotted a familiar and bittersweet candy—M&M's.
"Oh hey, I remember these!" I spoke, grabbing a tube. "Hey Yuri, do you know how these were invented? Or more specifically why?"
"Wasn't it something about the war?" Yuri questioned.
"Yeah. During the war, normal chocolate bars couldn't be transported or eaten because it'd melt in the heat, so Ostanian soldiers couldn't eat them. Forrest Mars Sr copied the idea of Rowntree's Smarties, a British-made sweet small chocolate candies covered in hardened sugar syrup, when he saw soldiers from the Spanish Civil War eating them." I explained. "I had a buddy who would eat these like no tomorrow." I chuckled, before frowning.
Well, I guess he did eat them like no tomorrow, cause he's not alive anymore.
I remember infiltrating a small town and killing a couple Ostanian soldiers. Rancher was looting the bodies to see if there was anything interesting or see if there's any extra ammo that matched his gun model. While he didn't find ammo that could be shot with his gun, he did find a small brown and tan tube with the title "M&M's" on the tube. He opened it and ate one of the small candies, then he became hooked and popped them in his mouth like a pill junkie. Sometimes, I think he killed soldiers just to see if he could find some of that candy on them.
Yuri noticed how my smile faded and patted my shoulder, an attempt to console me. While it didn't quite work, I was happy to know he was trying, especially considering that war was where he potentially lost his parents and started his hate for the West. He doesn't talk about them, but I can naturally assume he lost them in the war considering Yor was the one who raised him.
"Do you have a favorite flavor?" I questioned, breaking the silence.
His hand left my shoulder as he thought, before speaking, "Maybe cherry?"
I nodded, making a mental note in my head for later.
"Well, we got the candy. Let's head to the toy section and see what's there." I smiled, keeping the M&M's in my hand along with the other candies I grabbed.
We both walked to the toys as I tried and figured out what toys I wanted to buy for Anya. I didn't want something lame or boring, and I didn't want to give her something too generic that every other kid has. Knowing Twilight, he probably got her stuff that's popular with the other kids along with things she liked, I wanna give her something meaningful other than snacks.
I noticed the toy guns and thought about getting her a toy cap gun, a small toy that made a small bang to represent a bullet and came with it's own bang roll cap refill that even made a smell, before I realized that not only would they have to purchase more paper roll caps every time it ran out, but I also didn't want to influence her with violence and guns (especially after I heard about her punching Donovan Desmond's son, Damian). I thought about those toy handcuffs, before realizing how boring they were since she couldn't really do anything with that when playing alone. Maybe snap-its? Nah, I don't want her throwing it at her parents or other kids, not to mention the hassle it is to clean them up. Maybe I can code a little morse robot for her to learn morse code (by me coding, I mean Franky).
I decided to ditch the entire idea of spy things in general, she's too young for such things, and I don't want her to start getting suspicious of Twilight and I's second-lives, children have an insane ability of calling out bullshit and having some damn accurate hunches. Maybe if I find pajamas or a jacket of her spy show, I'll buy it.
I grabbed multiple different teddy bears, a blue one (Twilight), a pink one (Anya), a red and white one (Yor), a red and black one (Yuri), a white one (their dog Bond) and a grey one (me) to represent her family. You can't do much with stuffed animals, so I grabbed other toys too such as a rainbow slinky, a Candy Land board game, silly putty, dominoes, and some coloring books.
"Does a kid really need that much toys?" Yuri questioned.
"Yes. Yes she does." I nodded. "This is her first Christmas with us! Christmas is a day that kids are always thinking about, she deserves a good one."
"Well, if you think so." Yuri sighed, deciding not to fight on the matter.
Yuri carried most of the toys while I carried most of the candy. I noticed the struggle between us and mentally scolded ourselves for not getting a basket, it sure would've made this whole process easier.
"Why don't we get a wagon?" I questioned. "Like a toy wagon for Anya?"
"That's stupid. What would she use that for?" Yuri questioned.
"Don't call it stupid without hearing what I gotta say." I huffed. "It can be used to carry her toys around the house, or when she's out and about with Loid and Yor, she can sit in the wagon as they roll her around—it's cute and convenient." I explained.
"Sure, whatever you want." Yuri waved off.
Yuri just doesn't understand the importance of Christmas. For an energetic and cheerful kid like Anya, Christmas probably means a lot to her. I remember when I was a little kid and still had the income, I was excited for Christmas too; Yuri probably stopped caring for Christmas when Yor started raising him instead since they would need to direct their funds to something nonessential that doesn't include food or shelter, so I can see his perspective on this matter.
Even though he doesn't quite care about Christmas, I still want to be able to buy a gift for him, I mean, I have some festive spirit this year and I'm excited to spend Christmas in a place that's not Wise HQ with people I have genuine attachment to outside of work.
Me and Yuri grabbed a red toy Radio Wagon, placing all of Anya's (and Yor's) candies and toys inside of it. I also grabbed a classical music and a IIse Werner vinyl record for Loid. I thought and decided that I'll come back to the store later when searching for Yuri's gifts, that way I can get Franky and The Handler a gift too. We grabbed red and white striped wrapping paper (Yuri’s choice) and white snowflake wrapping paper (my choice, along with green and blue ribbons. We also grabbed Bond some treats, I heard he was a big dog so I got him large bones and chew toys.
Yuri rolled the wagon to the receptionist as I followed, paying for all the gifts and gift paper. We paid and left the store, heading to the jewelry store next. I wanted to get Yor a set of earrings. I noticed she wore gold spike-like earrings (the only set I've seen her wear really), so I wanted to get her a different pair instead, a pair where me and her match together so that the gift is meaningful. Yuri rolled the wagon down the streets as I guided him to a jewelry store, opening the door for him so he can walk in with the wagon as I advanced.
"Do you have a set of earrings in mind?" Yuri questioned.
"Yep. I have a perfect vision for what I want." I nodded.
I spent three days going to every jewelry shop to try and find the perfect set of earrings for Yor that I actually liked and that would match her taste. It took some work and searching, but I found The Set. I lead Yuri to the jewelry shop I wanted to go to called "Himmlischer Ketten."
"The wagon is probably going to be troublesome inside of the shop, so you just wait outside with it, okay?" I spoke.
Yuri looked at me with a blank face, thinking, before making a pout.
"But I wanna see what you're buying for Yor." He whined.
"I'll show you after I pay for it. I'll be in and out in a flash, you'll barely know I left." I smiled.
Yuri sighed, his pout still relevant on his face but it had decreased, "Fine. Just hurry up."
I nodded and walked into the store, looking around to find the set of earrings again. I found the ones I was looking for and told the jeweler, grabbing my wallet from my purse and payed for the price. I also got the second set of earrings so Yor and I could match together. She handed me the two boxes of jewelry inside, handing them to me in a small bag. I walked back out to Yuri and placed the bag of jewelry inside the wagon where the rest of the gifts were.
"How much did it cost?" Yuri questioned.
"One hundred dalc in total." I answered.
Yuri reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing me a bit over 100 dalc.
"Whaddya doing?" I questioned as he took my hand, placing the currency in my palm.
"I told you earlier that I'd pay for the jewelry." He spoke.
"Yeah, but it's my gift to Yor." I pointed out. "Besides, I got a set for myself too."
I can very well pay for it too since I'm working two government jobs...
"Consider it one of your Christmas presents." He reasoned. "Besides, you spent enough at the store for Anya and Loid."
"Wow, you actually said his real name without much thought." I chuckled, causing him to glare at me.
"Shut up. It just came out of my mouth before I could stop it." He huffed.
"Sure, hon." I smiled.
"Doesn't matter, let's get home and get these presents wrapped." He spoke quickly, changing the subject as he rushed ahead of me, dragging the wagon with him.
He can be such a tsundere at times... I thought. Though I guess it's a little endearing in its own stupid way.
I followed Yuri back to our apartment, getting home and wrapping the presents in our chosen gift papers we bought. Yuri did the wrapping while I placed bows and ribbons on the boxes since it turns out, I'm terrible at wrapping presents. I wrote the names of who the presents belonged too (most belonging to Anya, but it's still fun to write the names).
Yuri and I conversed as we did our own assigned roles together.
"You sure like going out for Christmas, huh?" He commented.
I hummed, thinking of the comment and what to say to that.
Perhaps I'm making up for loss time? I don't have a family I can spoil, so I should spoil this one while it lasts. I might not live long being this double-agent, whether I get backstabbed from one of my jobs (most likely the SSS), or whether I die on a mission, or even just some sickness or such, I want to die knowing I at least meant something to someone, or die someone I can be semi-proud of. It's not like there's much I can ask for in life after all I've done, or even deserve much really. Sometimes I wonder if I should even be allowed to enjoy myself with this family, even if it'll potentially be my death.
Oh well, I guess it's a bridge I'll cross (or jump off) when the time comes.
"I like Christmas. I like the pretty lights, the snow, and buying presents for people I care about." I spoke, deciding to go for a simple answer.
It's not technically a lie or anything, so I'll go with it.
Yuri nodded, cutting wrapping paper for one of Anya's stuffed animals to wrap with. "Well, I think it's kinda endearing. You seem very excited when you were choosing the gifts, and I could tell that you were putting much thought into it."
I blinked, surprised at his sudden adoring words.
"Are you tryna get something outta me? Like a hint for your gift or a kiss?" I joked teasingly, choosing to ignore how my heartbeat sped up at his words.
"I don't got any ulterior motives. I was just pointing out an observation of mine." He huffed, his face turning red.
"Well, thanks." I chuckled. "I guess I just like Christmas so much since I didn't really experience much of it as a kid."
That's true, even when I still had my parents, Christmas wasn't much except a few toys and candy. Buying presents for five kids a lower-class town like Luwen, it was hard to find money to spoil my siblings and I with when we had to pay for necessities like food or water.
"Well, you can experience it more now." Yuri smiled. "Besides, Chihuahua Girl will probably appreciate the gifts, even if she is spoiled enough just being in Yor's presence." He huffed, envious of his niece's everyday life.
"You're weird." I sighed, placing a blue bow on one of the white snowflake-wrapped gifts. "But I guess that's kinda my fault for agreeing to marry you." I chuckled, writing Anya's name onto the present.
"I'm not that bad." He huffed. "I think I'm a pretty good husband."
"Whatever floats your boat." I teased, causing him to send a pouting glare at me. "I'm just messing with you, honey." I laughed.
"I know that." He lied defensively.
"Sure." I hummed. "Let's finish this up so that we can make some desserts for tomorrow. I don't want Loid and Yor to do all the cooking."
He nodded, agreeing. "Yeah, I'm ready to get all this done and go to bed so we can see Yor." He smiled.
"And Loid and Anya." I added.
"Ugh..." He groaned, his face contorting into disgust. "Yeah... those two."
We continued finishing up wrapping the gifts until we finally finished, heading to the kitchen and preparing sweets and appetizers together. When we finished, we put them in containers and aluminum foil, calling it a night. While Yuri slept, I carefully snuck out of bed and changed clothes, sneaking out of the apartment to go get gifts for Franky and the Handler. I got the Handler red camellias and dutch chocolates with a red envelope that has a thank you card and 100 dalc. I got Franky the same thing too, except I gave him an extra 100 dalc so he could have extra money for his inventions.
Speaking of Franky's inventions, I decided to go to Franky's place to give him his gifts (and get a favor out of him). After spending the whole day with Yuri and trying to figure out what to get him for Christmas, I finally came up with the perfect gift idea. I walked to Franky's apartment and knocked on his door, waiting a minute or two before he opened the door.
Franky looked surprisingly awake for it being two in the morning.
"Oh? I didn't expect you to be awake." I spoke, a bit surprised.
"I'm working on some new inventions. Did you need something?" Franky questioned.
"Actually, I have something for you..." I spoke, handing him yellow roses.
"Oh? Really? Thanks!" he smiled, accepting the bouquet. "What's the occasion?"
"Merry Christmas." I cheered. "Did you forget or something?"
His face paled as he turned his attention to the calendar on his wall. "It's Christmas Eve already?!" he exclaimed.
"What?! You didn't know?!" I shouted back, surprised. "How long have you been cooped up here working your ass off?!"
"I don't know?! Maybe the 14th? Or... or like the end of November?" He spoke, his brain looked to be scrambled.
"Sheesh man, take a break from work." I suggested (more so demanded).
"Yeah... Good idea..." He sighed. "Uh, you wanna come in?"
"Yeah, I got a favor to ask anyways." I accepted as Franky opened his door wider, allowing me to slip in.
"Just don't mind the mess." He spoke, having no embarrassment.
It's not the first time I've seen his place like this. I've known him since the war, and we rekindled when I joined WISE, so I've seen him in this pitiful state many times. A good inventor is always has a scrambled brain (or workspace).
"So, what's the favor? Do you need me to get intel or something?" he questioned, sitting down on his blueprint map-scattered couch.
"I actually need help learning something." I spoke. "You know how to weld, right?"
"Of course I do. I've invented all sorts of powerful and useful machines and inventions." He smiled pridefully, glad to boast.
"Can you teach me how to weld? I wanna make something for my husband for Christmas, and I wanna do it myself so that it's more meaningful." I explained.
"Huh... So Twilight was lying when he said you and Briar's marriage was fake?" Franky commented.
"Oh..." I paused, thinking.
Well, shit. I kinda completely forgot about that.
"Well... we got recently engaged, however it's best not to tell Twilight. You know how he is, 'don't form attachments' and yada yada." I spoke quickly.
"Yeah, that's Twilight there." He spoke, before smirking pridefully. "Once again, you and Twilight come to me for help, pleading for my assistance."
"Dude, don't start it." I sighed. "I don't got time for this. I gotta get this done in at least six hours, so I need you to help me get it done as quickly and as perfect as possible."
"Six hours?!" he spluttered. "How do you believe that I can teach you all about welding in six hours?!"
"Don't teach me everything! Just what I need to know to get this done!" I retorted.
"Fine. Fine. Let's hurry up, I wanna get back to my inventions as fast as possible." He sighed. "Do you have an idea on what you're trying to make?"
"I got the perfect thing." I nodded.
Franky helped me create the perfect gift I had in mind. Surprisingly, it ended with not much cuts or burns, so I feel happy about that. I only needed three band-aids for my fingers! I gave Franky an extra 200 dalc for all the trouble. In total he's received 400 dalc from me for Christmas, so I don't ever want him to complain about helping me again. I also convinced Franky to give my gifts to the Handler since I wasn't going to WISE's HQ anytime soon (and I didn't want to be stuck giving an update on what's going on with the SSS. I want to enjoy the holidays, not think about work).
I made it back home to Yuri and I's apartment, deciding to ditch sleep since Yuri will be awaking soon; I don't want him to know I snuck out while he was sleeping and if I sleep now then I certainly won't wake up in time for the Christmas party. I changed back into my pajamas so that it looked like I never went anywhere, and I used some light makeup to hide the evidence of no sleep under my eyes. I decided to get started on breakfast since I wouldn't be sleeping, making apple pancakes, sausage, and coffee.
Yuri came out of our room in his pajamas and bedhead, looking a bit tired but refreshed (compared to how I currently feel).
"Morning." He yawned.
"Morning, hon." I smiled, placing breakfast on the table. "How'd you sleep?"
"Slept good, though it felt a little cold last night..." He spoke. "Must be cause of the winter weather."
"Yeah, I thought the same thing too." I agreed, ignoring the fact he was so in tune with my body heat that he subconsciously knew I was missing during his slumber.
"What are you doing up so early? It's unlike you to be awake in the morning." Yuri questioned, taking his seat at the dinner table.
"I was so excited for the Christmas party, I couldn't sleep." I lied, taking my own seat at the table.
Yuri and I ate our breakfast, Yuri doing the dishes afterwards since I cooked. To pass the time, we did our own things such as reading and watching TV in the living room together, waiting until it was time to get ready and leave.
When it was time to leave, I changed out of my pajamas and grabbed a grey coat and red scarf to protect myself against the cold. Yuri and I grabbed the sweets and appetizers we made together yesterday; pfannkuchen, bethmännchen, and bratkartoffeln.
Yuri and I walked to the apartment, Yuri dragging Anya's wagon filled with all the gifts while I carried all the food, my gift for Yuri inside of my purse. We made it to the apartment and I watched Yuri struggle to find a good angle to pick up the wagon and carry it up the steps (no, I didn't help him, I wanted him to suffer a little since it was so hard trying to find the perfect Christmas gift for him). When we got to the Forger's front door, Yuri knocked for us, being greeted by Twilight and Yor.
"Yuri! (Y/N)! Welcome back! Always good to see you!" Yor greeted, a big smile on her face.
"Hi-ya, sis!" Yuri cheered.
"Thank you for coming. Come in." Twilight spoke, opening the door further, causing Yuri to glare at him once he realized Twilight was present.
I placed the food down on the table as Yuri placed the wagon near the Christmas tree in the living room. Anya was sitting on the ground near the TV watching her spy cartoon while the Forger's dog laid next to her.
"Hi, buddy." I smiled, crouching down and slowly placing my hand near his nose so he could sniff me. "You're a good boy, huh?" I spoke, petting his head as he let out a 'borf!' "Hi, Anya." I greeted, sitting down on the couch as Yuri took a seat next to me.
"Hi, Auntie." Anya spoke, keeping her eyes on the TV screen.
Yuri looked disinterested in the show while I stared at it every now and then. Yor joined us on the couch and talked with us as Twilight was in the kitchen cooking, jumping into the conversation easily whenever he pleased. After an hour, all the food was done and ready, allowing us to eat Christmas dinner together and converse with each other. Twilight and Yuri talked about business together (Yuri sending him his infamous glares) while Yor and I talked with Anya about her cartoons and how school was for her.
We finally got to presents and watched Anya open her gifts, each one she unwrapped having a big smile on her face and her voice getting to loud enough volumes to potentially disturb other residents.
Yuri and I gave Twilight his gifts. He seemed appreciative of them, mentioning how he'd put them to good use. Twilight gave me a book and Yuri an expensive bottle of wine (to repay him for the expensive wine Yuri bought the first time we came over).
I gave Yor the set of earrings I picked out, a set of golden suns, and showed her the golden moons I bought and told her the symbolism of us matching and being sisters now. It was enough to make her cry and earn one of her death hugs. I'm almost 99% positive that she would've broken my rib if Twilight didn't calmly tell her to not squeeze so hard. Yuri also gave her the apple whistle candy along with some other gifts he bought her. In return, she gave me a fruity perfume and Yuri a comfortable sweater.
Anya was happy about all of her toys and candies, excited and hyper about it all. It was like it was her first time celebrating Christmas. Even Bond was happy, showing his joy by jumping up and down with Anya and barking (borfing). Bond seems like a surprisingly emotionally intelligent dog, though I supposed that's probably expecting considering it's Twilight (and because Twilight got him from the Project Apple situation).
We all stayed and talked more before it was time for Yuri and I to go home, considering how late it was getting. Yuri and I walked back home, getting to our apartment before I gave him his gift.
"I got you something. I made it myself." I spoke, reaching into my purse and handing him a small wrapped up box.
Yuri opened it, revealing a small square card, made out of pure silver (just like our wedding rings) and a small poem on the card
Your eyes shine like the twinkle of mars,
How I wish to claim and explore every part of you as if you were a new constellation.
Your lips are like warm pillows,
How I wish to forever rest my own against yours.
Your voice could never compare to the delicate silk of Asia, the waves of the Pacific, or the luminous of the Aurora Borealis.
How you make me lose my voice to utter sweet delicacies in your ears, so let me express it to you in another way:
I love you, Yuri Briar...
- Love, (Y/N) Briar
"I just found a stupid poem for you..." I muttered, suddenly feeling a little flustered for how stupid and cheesy the writing sounds now.
"You liar." He smirked, a noticeable fondness in his eyes. "Thank you. You said you made it yourself?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "It took some time, but I made it from scratch. I welded the silver together and welded the words... Of course words from a poem in a book." I coughed the last part out.
"You don't gotta be shy~" He teased.
"Whatever..." I chuckled. "But I figured I'd get you something you can always have with you. You can put it in your wallet or pocket or something."
"Thank you. Really." Yuri smiled, grabbing his wallet and placing it inside gently. "You really beat me this year in presents." He chuckled. "I kept tryna think for a while what I should get you, you're surprisingly difficult to shop for even though you're so expressive."
"I'm a little eccentric." I smirked.
"That's an understatement." He smiled. "But, here."
He walked to our room and I heard him rummaging through drawers, before walking out with a large heart-shaped chocolate box, candies I enjoy, some books he noticed I've been eyeing over the months, and some fake flowers.
"it's definitely not anything compared to what you got me." He spoke.
"Nonsense." I smiled. "I love all of it. I really do."
"Yeah, I knew how much you liked sweets and books." He reasoned. "And I figured it must be a bit annoying replacing the flower bouquets whenever they die, so I decided to get some fake flowers, to make it easier to tend to, and to show permanency in our relationship since we're married."
"How romantic~" I teased. "Thank you, Hon."
"Merry Christmas, darling." He smiled.
"Merry Christmas, love." I hummed, kissing his cheek.
"You know, you didn't have to get me anything. You're the best gift for me, (Y/N)!" He spoke, a light blush dusting his face.
"Yuri please, never say such sappy words again." I sighed.
I apologize sincerely for the huge delay! I had a hard time trying to figure out what I want, and I got busy indulging myself in reading about German foods and such, and I had little time to write due to work so the only time I had to write was when I was supposed to be sleeping or relaxing, but I finally got this done! Better late than never!
I honestly do feel a little silly writing that poem since it's my first time ever writing poetry/a love note, so I do hope it wasn't too bad or cringy!
Want more Yuri content? Check out the Yuri Briar x reader masterlist!
My inbox is OPEN
#x y/n#x you#x reader#x yn#stellar constellations#fem reader#x fem!reader#x female reader#x female y/n#yuri#yuri x reader#yuri briar x reader#yuri manga#yuri anime#yuri sxf#yuri briar#sxf#sxf yuri#sxf manga spoilers#sxf anime#sxf manga#sxf spoilers#spy x family spoilers#spyxfamily#spy x family#spy x family manga
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Ropes or Cuffs?
Kayson x Reader
Kayson + tied up (NSFW)
Bottom Kayson for my soul🙌😋
This is my second time writing a fully nsfw fic, so I'm sorry if this is disappointing😭
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
It was a good day. A good to indulge in some mischief. A bit of tomfoolery. A smidge of misbehaviour and naughtiness.
Kayson sat across from you, scrolling through his phone, taking a sip of his tea every so often. His fingers are snugly wrapped around the cup's handle, they're so slender and pretty. They blend into the most perfect pair of hands. The very hands that’s able to touch your soul and make you feel ways you've never felt before. The very hands that make you sing out in pleasure every time he holds you. You're consciously staring, shamelessly staring. It makes you wonder, how would things go if he was powerless and without those hands?
"Kay?"
"Hmm?"
"Ropes or cuffs?"
He nearly spat out his tea, coughing violently at your question.
"Shit Kayson! You okay?" You rush to his side, taking the cup from his hand and patting his back
"I'm fine. I'm fine." He coughs again before continuing. "Just, heh I really wasn't expecting that"
"I guess it did kind of come out of nowhere. I was a little distracted by my own thoughts, sorry."
"Your thoughts huh?" He grins mischievously, setting his phone aside. "Honestly, I don't think I have a preference. Like, you look great tied with ropes or in handcuffs. As long as it doesn't hurt you, I'm down."
"Okay okay take this back a bit babe, I know you're down bad, but I meant on you."
"Oh oh-" His smug expression faltered, replaced by wide-eyed surprise when he processed exactly what you meant. "You want to tie me up?"
"I was thinking about it, but only if you want to."
"Well, I wasn't expecting that." The blush crept up his cheeks, but he smiles again. "I'd like to try that too actually. I don't know what I prefer though. I'd still leave it up to you to decide."
His answer alone had your bones tingling as you approached him again, dragging a finger along his jawline so he's looking up at you. "Wanna see which one I choose?"
-
This was something straight out of a fantasy. Something out of your wildest imagination.
"Is that too tight?" You ask.
He's lying below you, completely bare, with a blanket pulled across his stomach and lower half. His hands are caught in yours over his head, where you lock them in palace between the hoops of a silk lined metal handcuff attached to the headboard of your bed.
"No. When did you even get these?"
"A while ago, though I didn't think I'd be using them on you." The handcuffs click for the last time securing his hands into place. "All done!"
A shiver runs down his body when you're seated back down next to him. He's already half hard, the arousal steadily coursing through his veins. His growing erection was apparent through the blanket, an easy target for your impish fingers. You lean down to kiss him while your hand rubs over his crotch through the blanket. He sighs into the kiss, biting the corner of your lip when you press down harder.
When you pull away, you waste no time pulling the covers off him, exposing his cock to your lustful gaze. It takes you a minute to fully take in the scene before you, he looks so fucking pretty. Everything about him is just so pretty.
You snatch the bottle of lube from beside you, squeezing a glob onto your palm and spreading it to coat your fingers.
He hisses when your hand finally wraps around his cock, inhaling sharply as his breathe hitched. You look up at him, his forehead is creased and eyebrows knitted. When his eyes slowly reopen, he's staring right into yours.
"Cold, it was cold." He laughs.
Good thing your hands were warm, and so was his body. It didn’t take long for the lube itself to lose its coolness as well.
You've never been in such a position with Kayson, sure you've given him handjobs before but he always had some sort of power during the act, whether it was his voice or hands. Right now, however, he was completely at your mercy, vulnerable and detained under your touch and gaze. It was truly sight to behold.
Your hands moved slowly at first, working up a pace as his heart rate picked up.
"Ah just like that." A low guttural moan leaves his throat.
Up and down, your hand traced every ridge and every vein. He squirmed under your touch, low moans escaping his lips like honey dripping from a rose.
"You look so beautiful right now." You confess, catching his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss.
You hand slowed down, wrapped around his tip where your thumb rubs small, gentle circles around the top. His lips part from yours reflexively, gasping at the new sensation. You aren't bothered by it, kissing a path down his cheek to his jaw then his neck. Not only was he pretty, but god did he taste good. A heavenly combination that makes you want more and more of him.
You go back to working your hand up and down his shaft, occasionally running your thumb over the blushed tip. Your lips lingered around his neck, kissing his skin softly before adorning it in dark red marks. By now, he's more vocal, moaning, and grunting loudly each time you stroke him.
"Fuck I'm so close baby." He whispers between moans.
His hips could no longer stay still, thrusting upwards to meet you awaiting hand. His body twitched and you knew he was close, unfortunately for him, you haven't had enough just yet. When you slow down and pull your hands away from him, he lets you know how disappointed he is with a desperate cry.
"Why'd you stop baby? Please I was so close!" He whines.
"I know, that’s why I stopped."
You leaned back onto your palm, supporting your weight on the mattress, admiring his dishevelled state, his laboured breathes, lust filled eyes and a desperate expression that makes you want to toy with him even more.
"Come on baby, quit staring! I need you."
You don’t even bother to answer him, pulling your shirt over your head. He watches in awe as you pull your underwear to the side, ghosting your fingers along your exposed self.
"Oh you're so fucking evil for this" He fakes a laugh before demanding, "At least uncuff me!"
He pulls at the handcuffs, but at most, all he achieved was a creaking sound from the bed frame. You're wearing that mischievous smile on your face, the one he usually has when he's in a playful mood. He watched as you pleasure yourself, head thrown back and huffs of his name, leaving your lips. When you catch the look in his eyes, silently pleading with you to give him what he wants, you decide to mess with him even more. You bend forward, using your free hand to tickle your way up his thighs and ghost your fingers over his shaft.
"Fuck, just put it inside already!" His voice full of desperation and need as he lifts his head to look at your fingers gently running down the side of his cock. His hips buck upwards, into your touch.
"I'll think about it." You retract your hand, placing a finger against your bottom lip, pretending to think. "Hmmmmmm, nope! But I do have a better idea."
He whines at your response, his head dropping hard onto the pillow below him.
He doesn't fight back, not with his words, at least. Instead, he yanks at the cold metal around his wrist furiously.
He's too busy pulling at the chains that link his hands together, he doesn't even notice when you strip off your last piece of clothes. But when your legs part to accommodate his hip between them and you lower yourself, his attention is all on you again. He loved the way you felt on him, but this wasn’t what he wanted at all. He pulls at the headboard, and it creaks again, his head thrown all the way back as a languish whine falls from his lips. The length of his cock is pressed right up against you, you could very well adjust yourself so he’d be able to slide inside but where's the fun in that?
"Fucking hell you're gonna be the death of me." He croaks between erratic breaths.
"Did you prefer my hands over this? I could get of-"
"No!" He shouts. "No please don't. Just- just move please"
"I didn't quite get that last bit baby, mind repeating for me?"
"I said please move. I want you to move, I need you to move please!" He sounds tortured, the pitch of his voice increasing as he begs.
You place a hand on his cheek, catching the tear that slips past his lashes. "So cute, and such a good boy for me."
You focus on your hips, dragging yourself along the length of his shaft, slowly. Too slow apparently, because it draws a loud grunt from him, though that doesn't stop you. You keep the same pace moving all the way to his tip then all the way back down where his balls greet your ass. It wasn't just pleasure for him, each time you grind against him, his length stimulates your own needs and sensitive spots.
You can't control the way your body reacts, matching his unsteady breathing pattern and his grunts with soft, blissful moans.
It feels even better when his hips jerk upwards to meet yours, send a zap of electricity right up your spine.
You're supposed to be having your way with him, but the way he begs you to move, the strained pleas and desperate whines, it was easy to get lost in the feeling, and before you knew it you were desperately rutting yourself against him.
His voice only gets louder, "Please please please, faster please!" He pleads.
He's still desperately tugging at the handcuffs, surely by now he's left a noticeable mark on the wooden headboard where the metal wore away its surface.
When you finally had enough of just rubbing yourself against him, you finally lift your hip, aligning his tip between your legs. Slowly, you descend, savouring the feeling of being stretched to take him. His eyes are glued to your body, groaning loudly at the feeling he's been waiting for so damn long.
When you've finally taken him all the way in, you lift your hips to do it all over again in the same antagonisingly slow action.
Maybe that's what did it, what finally was the last straw for him. You flinch at the sudden noise metal snapping, but before you could find its origin, strong hands grip onto your thighs, pulling you down onto him. You're caught by surprise, choking on a moan that is matched with a satisfied one of his own.
You were into some real trouble now.
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hey you wanna hear another fanfic idea (based on an old doodle) i'll probably never write ok here it goes-
(What if, in her dying breath, Onyxia split Anduin into two, and nothing Varian tries is putting his son back together.)
Varian was able to fuse back together, but to his surprise, he found two boys where one once was. In her final moment, to further soe chaos and seek revenge, Onyxia channelged her power into the boy. And despite their attempts, they cannot get the boys back to one. (They try and use shalamayne, but really they can’t fully recreate Varian’s rejoining, for it would threaten the boys’ health and saftey. They spend the next year trying to locate any magic users who could help, but unwilling to risk their lives, there isnt much they can do. They must be raised as twins.)
Ann and Dulin are identical as young kids, and seem very happy with eachother, and it almost seems like they are better off now that Anduin isn’t really an only child. But then, as they enter their teens, a distinction between the two forms, and it slowly becomes clear that they are halves of a single soul. And their flaws are ever stronger for it. That they arn’t balanced.
(-Little moments as the boys grow up, playing together, learning together, etc.
-Varian hoping at least one picks up the sword, but so far both boys are awful. He struggles, but is reminded they are the same person, of course if one cant do something the other cant either.
-they both shared an interest in light, and learned fast bouncing practice off eachother. Both learn under Velen.)
Ann and Dulin are priests, but Ann is more rebellious and runs away more, and is more open to voicing his opinion, even at the wrong times. Dulin is much more clinging to rules and professionalism, and is quiet and more hiding of his voice, preferring to listen. They bicker more, disagree, and it slowly reminds Varian of his struggle as he and Lo’gosh could not come to agreements despite being one person. And he fears that as they age, Ann and Dulin will further be torn apart.
It does happen, when Ann and Dulin get into an argument, and Dulin uses shadow.
-
MoP is Ann and Dulion getting shipwrecked. Despite his interests in Pandaria Dulin wants to go home as soon as the Alliance finds them, but Ann refuses too, and so Dulin follows along. Ann is the one to confront Garrosh, and Dulin is the one to get him help.
After the Bell scene.
Ann nearly died, and while Dulin didn’t get hurt, it seems he’s fallen ill too. He’s fine, up until he faints infront of everyone. Confused, someone reminds Varian, “They are not complete people. They are halves of a single individual, and that brings with it consequences. They were never meant to grow up apart, their souls are joined and that greatly effects their mind and bodies. I suspect if Ann had died, Dulin would’ve passed away soon after. If you lose one, you lose them both.”
“When you were two, one half was a spineless noble easily charmed by wealth and beauty. The other half was an angry warrior, hot headed and unwilling to listen to opposition. Apart, you were two deeply flawed people who could not agree on anything, and you came close to killing yourself, until one made a sacrifice for the other. It was only because you shared a son did you come to terms with one another.” “I believe having the boys raised together is partly the reason they still get along, but they are very different from one another, and their lives would be better if they were joined again.”
Wrathion believes he knows how to rejoin the twins, and Dulin seeks that help, even behind Ann’s back. (It does not work).
(war crimes scene where Anduin holds his AU self as he dies, only in this fic it is Ann and Dulin watching an au version of Anduin die, seeing what they would look and act like if they were one person, as they should be. This event deeply effects them, acting as a constant reminder that their fractured existance is wrong)
-
-Because of their bickering, it's decided one will take the throne and the other remains prince. Dulin takes the throne, which is actually one of the only things the two agree on, for Ann dislikes the restrictions the title of King would place upon him. Ann still does work for Dulin, represents him in meetings he cant go too, etc, especially durring war, but still runs off sometimes.
-Dulin is taken by Sylvanas to the Shadowlands, and it is Ann who demands to go to find his twin. He felt the moment Dulin crossed into the veil, He feels the moment his twin is corrupted, and feels his soul aching. If Dulin dies so will Ann, and Ann can feel his brother's soul weaken by the day.
-JAILER RAID SCENE but Ann runs into the black smoke, Sylvanas cannot stop him in time- Ann embraces his brother, and a rush of energy envelopes the area. Sylvanas believes it to be the bomb, but as the smoke clears and they live, a single man is left in the middle-
Ann and Dulin fused back together.
the end.
-
Epliogue:
Anduin, newly rejoined into one person, disappears for several years in order to 'find himself', soul searching or whatever. Now that he is one person, who is he really? Who does he want to be? How does he cope with his past truamas was one person, when half of him experienced things differently?
Epilogue explores how Anduin honestly still feels like two people in one body, that being fully one in heart and mind may be truely impossible, but as time passes, years go by, it seems that healing truely may be possible.
#world of warcraft#anduin wrynn#fanfic idea#i think it would be very funny if Varian had his sons split into two and was just like ight lets split your name in two too#'you get the first half annnd you get the second half'#fuck it lets put an L in there somewhere
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a/n: pouty geppie >>>> enjoy this drabble pouty geppie enthusiasts because i enjoyed writing it for a friend too!! i forgot the english for “suyuin” a word in filipino BUT THIS IS TECHNICALLY WHAT WE’RE DOING HERE… i think it’s wooing? that doesn’t sound quite right… anyway we’re fighting geppie a little here but we’re weak so he gets his way!! knowing about him being a plant killer tore my heart a little bit as a gardener/green thumb <\3 love him nonetheless. i have another fic for argenti about plants!! stay tuned (he does not kill the plants dw)
gepard x gn! reader as always kiss kiss
cw: minor arguments but it goes alright in the end, cutie geppie, plants dying (pls be careful with plants! take care of them or i’ll burn you :3), feisty reader but they love geppie anyway
—
despite gepard’s best efforts, the plants he tries to grow always wither. it seemed cute at first until he started tending your perfectly tended plants. as expected, your plants withered. you confronted him about his inability to care for plants and insisted you take care of the garden instead of him. gepard argues back, saying it isn’t his fault, escalating to a point you proposed to ban him from ever stepping foot in the garden.
“…absolutely not! i will not have you killing the rest of our plants, we’ll have no flowers to look at!” you said, hitting his forehead repeatedly with your finger.
“but-“
“no buts! you know what you did!”
gepard’s eyes droop at your adamant refusal, seeming genuinely guilty. his hurt expression reminded you of a kicked puppy or a kitten that got shut out of the house, imaginary animal ears drooping down along his downcast look. to stand your ground, you look away and huff. in all actuality, he did not look as sad, but your lovestruck eyes made him look sadder than he is. your resolve dissipated quickly when poor geppie tugged your shirt.
“please? i’m not a green thumb like you…”
a shotgun bullet of guilt tore through your heart instead of a silly arrow of love as gepard pleaded. when gepard gets all pouty and needy, who were you to refuse? that gepard had you wrapped around his finger, gnawing in deviance but still powerless to his puppy-like look. you wondered if his name really fitted his attitude. feeling guilty, you immediately turn back and ruffle his hair, taking back his banishment from your garden.
“aiya, you sneak. fine,” you surrendered. gepard tilts his head in confusion at your comment.
“i’m not a sneak,” he says through a pout.
“fine! ugh, geppie. you should learn to water plants at the right time, transfer plants gently, and toning down on cutting too much of them! i want us to have a flower and herb patch, not a sad field of mud and poor withered plants,” you reasoned. “they need love and care as you do. how would you react if someone pulled you up and left you on cold, cold concrete? with no water to sprinkle over and no soil to burrow in too.”
“i know, i know,” he chided. “i’ll listen to you this time.”
you give him a doubtful look and poor gepard immediately promised you a reasonable compromise.
“i won’t kill them, dear. i’ll keep my hands off the flowers, but give me a plant i can take care of. a flower at least, and i’ll give it to you. i’ll grow you the fairest flower you’ve ever seen in our garden.”
“…i wish i can believe that.”
#honkai star rail#gepard x reader#hsr gepard#gepard x you#gepard landau#gepard fluff#honkai star rail x reader
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daze. (chuuya x reader)
note; @akutagawasbitch love u thank u for giving me inspo to write for bsd again TEEHEE🥺🤍 was obsessed with the idea of jealous chuuya so hopefully this fic did him justice AAAAAA-
cw; not really proofread, reader is a little more feminine (they wear a dress), reader is also not in any of the organizations, suggestive, drunk chuuya!!!
masterlist.
when they said it was supposed to be a party like always, chuuya definitely didn't expect to be met with hundreds of other faces he'd never seen.
he certainly did not expect for you to want to tag along, too. it wasn't like you haven't already - sometimes curiosity gets the best of you, and you couldn't resist your ravishing looking man in one of his best suits.
a suit that you'd picked out for him during one of your dates. wine red - just the way he likes it - traces amongst the silky black fabric. it was tough choosing between a bowtie or just a tie, but he preferred the tie; tucked underneath the vest that hugged his build perfectly. buttons glimmering gold under the chandeliers and a rose that he'd picked to match the one clipped on your hairdo.
you seemed to give chuuya motivation to go when he saw your outfit for the night. a dress that complimented his color palette, with the set of jewelry he'd bought for you one fine day. you felt really proud of how well you dressed (just for him, mostly.), so there you were, strutting down the steps of your shared home, an elegant twirl in the end to show him your completed look.
if you looked closely, you could've caught him drooling. he walked towards you, gloved hand loosely wrapped around your waist.
"i'm so in love with you."
"oh, you. i cannot take my eyes off of you either."
it felt so surreal that his boss decided to have a party out of nowhere, but you soon learnt the sole purpose being gaining new intel from a neighboring organization. this was just his way of thanking them. quite extravagant, but thrilling nonetheless.
"old man has so much time on his hands," chuuya grumbled, his arm entwined with yours. "or maybe it's because he wants us members to make up with 'em."
"hey," you slapped his shoulder playfully. "you gotta let it loose once in a while. i bet he even prepared your favorite drink tonight."
"for real?"
"mhm."
he sighed. "i'm only doing this because i love you. oh - and i also wanted you to see me wear this," he raised his head, adjusting his fedora triumphantly.
***
it didn't take long for chuuya to be dragged away by one of his colleagues. the so called ice-breaking session was currently underway and he promised to be back with you the moment he was done. you giggled as you heard him curse under his breath, followed by a toothy smile when he was greeted by a new face.
you found a seat nearby to wait when you met higuchi, a familiar face you've come across every time you tagged along for small matters (at this point he might as well recruit you here, but you'll leave that decision to him).
"higuchi, right? gorgeous as ever. where's um...," you wiggled your finger around, trying to remember the pale-skinned man you always saw her with.
"y/n! you look lovely yourself," you watched her rosy cheeks turn red within seconds as she fanned them off before continuing. "you mean akutagawa senpai? i was told to wait for him here. he seemed to be in an okay mood tonight, so i didn't want to be the first to ruin it," she concluded, straightening the fabric of her dress.
the two of you continued chatting. you followed her around, being introduced to other members of the port mafia. many of them were familiar faces, so it was nice to call them acquaintances now.
it wasn't until you noticed the back of the hall serving a variety of drinks. your ears picked up that it was first come first served, so why would you miss the chance?
though, there's always one thing you always forgot when you attended parties.
the watchful eyes around you.
you and higuchi lost each other in the slowly growing crowd in the drinks corner, so your first mistake was to assume she was the one snaking an arm around your waist.
your second mistake was thinking that it was chuuya trying to pull you away from the crowd.
chills ran down your spine as you peeled yourself away from the foreign arm around you, eyes glaring up at the bigger figure.
"do i know you?"
his words were only drowning along with the background noise, which only infuriated you more.
how long has it been since i last saw chuuya, by the way? you thought to yourself. he promised he would be back soon-
you watched as a gloved fist landed its first hit on the man's face.
did it all happen in a flash? was it in slow motion? you didn't know, you couldn't tell - he continued jabbing more punches around his face, adding a few more to his chin, his jaw.
you finally realized it was your boyfriend when a wine bottle flew past your face. it was gravity he was manipulating - it was nakahara chuuya.
"chuuya! stop it!"
he froze. his once droopy eyes darted towards the now broken wine bottle, back to you, and the man now laying on the floor.
he let out a frustrated grunt, tossing the bottle to the side.
"hear that? yeah. 's my name she's calling," he drawled, squatting to get a better look at the man. with the position he was in, it was like he wasn't ready to show himself till chuuya left his sight.
"touch her again and you would see your grave next."
restless, you grabbed a hold of his arm, hoisting him up only to end up stumbling from his weight.
he's either going to regret this, or brag about it to me, you thought, you inner self shaking their head in defeat.
"we'll get this mess cleaned up; he's drunk. why don't you bring him home, my dear?"
***
you walked in, with him abruptly freeing himself from your hold.
"honey, you're gonna fall. come on."
being drunk was no biggie for chuuya's strength. despite the different world he was in, he seemed to have heard you loud and clear.
it didn't even take five seconds and he had you pinned against the wall, arms slamming against each side of the hard surface.
"what are you-,"
"i'm sorry."
"wha-,"
"i'm sorry, baby," he finally looked into your eyes, the same droopy look you saw in the event earlier. only this time, it was mixed with rage, confusion and regret.
"okay," you whispered, placing a hand on his cheek. "chuuya, let's see if you're hurt anywhere, okay? then we'll talk-,"
he practically crash landed into your lips, causing his fedora to slip off of his hair, landing with a soft thud against the floorboard. you didn't realize until this very moment that it had been quite a while since you felt this sensation with him.
he forcefully pulled himself away from you, worried you might do so first.
"i.... i just... i need to kiss you."
his words were firm. his eyes flickered down to your lips before looking back into your eyes once more, and you could tell they were pleading, begging for you to say yes.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his figure in close to yours. doing the honors, you closed the final bit of gap between the two of you, earning a satisfied grunt from his throat.
he pushed you back further against the wall, keeping you trapped within his embrace. his hands now gripped each side of your waist, fingers digging themselves into your fabric like they were trying to find your skin. he tasted like wine - you figured he actually found his favorite on display. his teeth was sinking into your bottom lip. it didn't hurt, but you could tell he was tugging at them.
chuuya let go but left long, luscious pecks on your lips, allowing you to catch your breaths in every interval. his breath was now hot and heavy, his tongue successfully finding its way through, and exploring your mouth like he had been craving for it all night.
that's how he'd always kissed you. he craved for them. and if it were a meal, he would take his time with it, relish it even.
but he also does this when he's jealous. obviously you could tell what he was feeling right now.
you could feel him smirking through the kiss as he heard a soft moan escape you. with that, he moved you away from the wall, gracefully landing you with a plop! onto the sofa.
"you're drunk," you whined breathlessly, finally pulling away. all he did was silently chuckle in response, removing the first two layers of his clothing. the tie made a loud whip sound when he loosened it, as if reminding you to get a grip of what he was about to do to you.
rolling your eyes in amusement, you helped him remove each button of his shirt, sitting up a little to help him slide it off of his body.
he wasn't done with you though. he leaned in closer to you, causing you to lay back down. his lips continued their journey towards your exposed collarbones, reaching at one of the straps of your delicate dress as he pushed it further down your shoulder.
"....i'm sorry i wasn't there when he touched you."
"god, chuuya. i don't think he's gonna dream of it after this," you giggled, fingers tracing his exposed skin. he breathed in sharply as he held your wrist tenderly, kissing it.
"i'm sorry for being so rough with you."
"you did not hurt me at all, chuuya. i promise."
you reached for the back of your dress, but your action was soon cut off by his hands once again.
"let me take care of you, baby. please."
all created content belongs to mitraoki. reposts/remakes are not allowed.
#snow.writing#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#nakahara chuuya#chuuya x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x you#chuuya x y/n#chuuya nakahara#bsd scenarios#bsd chuuya#bsd x y/n
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Sinned Awakening pt. 11 🩸
An AU Elvis fic
(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Request: No
Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]
TW: Cussing, tension, angst, mentions of blood/gore 🩸
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 3.8K
A/N: Hello everyone!
Welcome to part 11! I couldn't stop writing these last few days and needed to share with you all what happens next🤭 It's a bit shorter but I wanted to break up this part up accordingly. I love this pic of him here and the red glare makes me giggle.
A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.
If you'd like to start from the begining, start here 🩸
I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think!🖤
The crunch of leaves under your feet breaks the stillness of the forest. The wind whistles through the trees and brings a slight shiver to you but you don’t mind. The trees break away and a sparse area comes into view. There you see a lone white piano in the middle of the clearing and you grow curious.
You walk closer to it and that’s when you can hear it playing music with no accompaniment. It’s a familiar tune but you can’t seem to remember the name. The song becomes louder and you look around for any other people around. The wind picks up and you bring your arms up to your chest, hugging them tightly as the temperature begins to drop.
The notes on the piano become distorted and jumbled no longer the melodious sounds a moment ago. You hear a whisper behind you and snap your body in the direction of the sound, not seeing anything though. You look back at the piano and the keys are slamming down violently, blood starting to come streaming out of the keyboard and the top board.
You stumble backward, frightened at the sight before you. The blood keeps flowing and reaches your feet, making you scream out in horror. As you’re retreating, your back hits something hard and you grunt at the feeling.
You turn around to see Elvis’ bright eyes stare down at you and grab onto your shoulders.
"Run." he growls.
You gasp as you pop open your eyes and revive back into consciousness. You grab at the bed sheets, unaware of where you are. Anna quickly comes rushing to your side and holds your hand.
“Woah, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here,” she assures. “Are you okay?”
You’re not exactly sure how to answer that. The last few hours were a blur for you and you hardly remember getting to Anna’s apartment. You realize you’re in her bedroom with blankets covering your body.
Your body feels exhausted and soreness spreads along it when you try to move.
“Woah let’s take it easy. You took quite a fall,” she says softly.
“What time is it?” You grumble, rubbing your eyes.
“Uhh, one o clock. Honey, what happened? You scared the hell out of me and-and your neck…. What’s going on?” She asks concerned.
You put your hand over your neck and feel it’s been bandaged.
“I’m okay. I really can’t tell you about this but I’m fine,” you say referring to your neck.
“No, you’re not! You come in here bloody and collapse on my floor! When was the last time you slept?!” She presses.
You stay silent for a moment, trying to figure out when you did get a good night's sleep.
“Umm, a few days ago…” you say embarrassed.
Anna covers her eyes and worry shrouds her face.
“That’s not good! You need to take care of yourself. Does Elvis have something to do with this?” She accuses.
You look at the ceiling, frustrated with the entire situation.
It has everything to do with Elvis.
“It’s not about him. I just need some time and figure things out.”
Anna sighs, frustrated at how you’re deflecting everything. But it’s the only way you know how to. You sure as hell couldn’t tell her that he’s a Vampire and he lost control. It felt wrong to lie to your best friend but this was necessary. You knew you had to protect Elvis’ secret.
“Did you call out of work?” You ask.
“Yes of course I did, I was worried sick. I’m not going anywhere til you get better and rest,” she says firmly.
You nod in agreement, not in the mood to fight. She hands you a glass of water and you take a few sips.
“Can I take a shower to freshen up? I’ll be fine, I promise I feel a lot better,” you assure her.
“Yeah, I’ll grab you a towel from the closet,” she says before walking to the other room.
You shut the bathroom door behind you and flip on the light. There's a full-length mirror in front of you and you unwrap the blanket from yourself. You didn’t want to look at your body at first, you knew what you’d see.
You look anyway and see the welts that he sucked onto both of your breasts and the marks his hands left as he squeezed your hips tight riding him.
The more you look at the marks he left behind, the more you can see and feel how those talented hands felt on your body, making you ache for more from him. How he knew just where to touch you and make you feel things you’ve never experienced before. And that mouth of his, it must have been one of your favorite things about him. How it can turn you on with a kiss or eat you out like he was starving for it.
You snap yourself out of the memories surrounding him and turn on the shower, needing a distraction from your aimless thoughts of him. You’re about to step in when you realize you still have the bandage on your neck. You take a deep breath to rip it off quickly so it doesn’t hurt as much. You close your eyes and rip the bandage off in one swipe. The idea of how your neck looked terrified you, knowing it wasn’t going to be a pretty picture. You open your eyes anyway and assess the damage.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at what you see. The bruise has grown but the bite mark was visibly gone. You lean closer to the mirror to get a better look and swear you could be going crazy.
There wasn’t even a scab. He never told you how or if a bite from a vampire could heal so quickly. It scared you either way and you wanted answers. You knew that wasn’t going to happen any time soon with Elvis’ lack of control. But you honestly didn’t care. You needed to know.
You take your time in the shower and let the hot water run down your body. You had to figure out a time to see Elvis and see how he is. You’re sure he felt bad about what he did but there was a lot to talk about like the next steps to get out of your apartment and somewhere away from Daniel.
Everything that’s been going on with Elvis, it felt like part of you was stalling from fully moving out from Daniel’s. For a time, you thought you’d stay with Elvis and have him help you figure things out but now, a lot has changed. You found out the truth about him and you weren’t sure if he could handle you around him all the time.
But every part of you didn’t want to give up on him. There was no way you could leave him so broken and lonely. He tried so hard to be good. And it was all because of you. He found a reason to try and not be so ravenous. In a way, he made you see more clearly how awful Daniel treated you and how you do deserve better. You borrow some clothes from Anna but you know you need to go to your apartment and pack your stuff up. You also ask her for a scarf, not wanting her to stare at the huge bruise that's sitting there.
You join Anna in the living room and she starts fixing you lunch. She makes you a sandwich and you eat it quickly, not realizing how starving you were.
You small talk about things and she convinces you to go to a bar with her. She thought it would be a good idea to get your mind off things and honestly, she wasn’t wrong. A distraction was exactly what you needed.
Her phone suddenly rings and she walks over to answer it.
“Hello?” She says cheerfully. Her eyebrows suddenly furrow and she shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
She looks at you confused.
“It’s for you,” she whispers, taking the receiver off her ear and offering it to you.
You sit there in shock, not understanding what is going on as you haven’t given anyone Anna’s number to call you on. You take the phone from her and raise it to your ear.
“Hello?” You say unsure.
“Mr. Presley needs to see you,” the familiar voice grumbles.
“How did you get this number?” You snap.
“He will not be kept waiting, I suggest you hurry.” The click of the phone ends the call and you look up at Anna perplexed.
“I uh, can you take me to work?” You ask.
“What? Are you insane? No! You really want to go back there and see him?” She accuses.
“Please, I need to go. I’ll be fine I swear,” you assure her.
She huffs in protest, rubbing her temple and shaking her head at you, “let me get my shoes on,” she says frustrated.
You both get in the car and she drops you off in the back of the hotel. Something about it seemed so eerie. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it but deep down, you knew you should not be here. You know you should trust your instincts and stay in the car, but you open the car door anyway and hug Anna.
“Thank you. I’ll be okay and I’ll call you if I need you,” you say, squeezing her hand gently. She nods her head at you and gives you a quick smile.
You make your way through the locker room and up to the elevator. The amount of times this elevator has made you anxious is becoming too much of a regular occurrence.
You get to the penthouse floor and the elevator doors open. You’re scowled at by the same men in the hallway and quickly rush to the suite’s doors. The man standing in front of the door steps aside and opens the door for you. You cautiously step inside and see Elvis at the piano, his back turned away from you. A flashback from your nightmare earlier flashes in your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut to try and get that out of your memory. You continue to stand by the door as you hear it get shut behind you. He’s wearing a midnight blue shirt and black pants with his hair tussled out of place.
His fingers lightly press the keys, not making any particular music but aimlessly touching the key to distract himself from something. You don’t want to say anything, he called for you, not the other way around. You thought for a second he couldn’t stand the sight of you after what happened early this morning.
He turns his head slightly, his back still facing you, “come here,” he says shortly, his voice raspy.
You can feel your heartbeat grow louder and louder with each footstep you make closer to him. Your instincts told you to run away, there was danger here, but the other side of you knew there wasn’t. You had this unwavering trust in him, one you couldn’t quite explain. You knew there was good within him. He needed someone to help him see that. And you really think you might be able to do it.
You reach the side of him and stop there, waiting for him to say anything else. He’s wearing his sunglasses and is puffing on a cigar. You pinch yourself from staring at him for too long. He was always looking so tempting and your brain always threw the danger out the window when it came to being so close to him. He pulled you in every time even without trying. You notice how abnormally pale he looks today, sickly almost. It was pretty dark in the room so you weren’t sure if your eyes were seeing things.
“Thank you for coming… how do you feel?” He asks gently, still not looking at you.
“Fine.” You say shortly.
“Don’t lie to me.” He grumbles.
“I’m not, you don’t need to question me like that,” you snap.
He finally snaps his head to you, looking at you with hunger. Your heart leaps out of your chest as he looks at you, not making a move.
“I will do whatever I want.”
“What did you call me in here for?! I don’t think it was to berate me with stupid questions,” you scathe.
He stands up quickly and and points a finger at you.
“When are you going to learn to not speak to me like that?! I will not tolerate it,” he reprimands.
You stay silent, staring at him with a scowling stare.
“What. Did. You. Need.” You say again, “And how did you get Anna’s number?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m not that inconsiderate,” he growls.
“I’m fine, just a bit sore.” You quip.
He hums to himself lightly and circles you slowly, making you wary.
“I called you up here to let you know I won’t need your services for a while,” he explains.
You’re confused and shocked, this felt like he was firing you in a way?
“What? I don’t understand. I-I-I work solely for you. I have no other way of income,” you tell him not understanding what is happening.
“I’ll pay you still don’t worry,” he says shortly.
And then it hits you, his Vegas engagement is going to end soon. He won’t be back til the summer. You didn’t want to wait that long to not see him. You figured you were more to him than just some hook-up.
“Well, how long do you not want me to come by? You leave in a few weeks…” you trail off, not wanting the answer.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly.
You look at him annoyed, shocked he’s treating you like this.
“What do you mean?! Elvis, why does this feel like you’re just pushing me away?” You spat.
“Because I can’t stand to be around you! I can’t do it anymore y/n! Every time I am, I risk hurting you and losing control. Just like I did this morning. I’m not good for you,” he scowls.
Your heart races out of your chest and you look at him in disbelief. You feel the tears well in your eyes and wish you could wake up from such a bad dream.
“Elvis- you, you can’t do this. Not after everything you’ve said and done to me. I wanted to help you become better because I see it in you. But now I don’t know what to believe in anymore,” you snap at him.
“Don’t waste your time. It’s not worth it,” he says walking away from you and pacing the room in frustration.
“You haven’t let me even help you! Why do you always do this! You always block me out and wallow in self-pity. No wonder you’ve been so miserable all these years!” You yell at him.
You can see him fuming, looking at you like he could attack you at any moment.
“You better watch it,” he says through his teeth.
“So that’s it. You want me gone,” you say bluntly.
“Yes. I can’t hurt you again. I’ll never touch you again,” he says weakly, regret coming out of those words.
It feels like a punch in the gut. His words cut you like a knife and you felt like all of this was for nothing. The way he can just toss you aside like you are nothing. Your entire life felt like it was in shambles now with nothing going right. The men in your life have ruined it beyond comprehension and there was no clear exit route.
There suddenly comes a harsh knock on the door and makes you jump. Elvis quickly goes to answer it and opens the door.
“What is it Jerry,” he spat.
He looks down as he speaks to Elvis, “Sir your um… meal is waiting for you,” he says quietly but you can hear him loud and clear.
You stare craters into the back of Elvis’ head, fuming with anger.
“Your what.” You yell, feeling your cheeks redden.
In comes walking in a long-legged blonde, hair piled high and enough makeup on to cover you twice over. You realize this is the same girl from the party that was sitting on his lap. That’s why she looked so familiar. She looks at you and scoffs, putting her attention on Elvis and reaching up to kiss him. She makes a spectacle of it, making sure to press her body into his as much as she can to make you jealous and moan into his mouth.
You know he can hear your heart leaping out of your chest and you hope he can smell the rage that is boiling off of you. He looks at you for a brief moment, seeing the hurt on your face.
“Wait for me in the bedroom honey, “ he whispers in her ear.
She giggles and nods up at him, going to the bedroom before staring you down like you’re a piece of trash. You hear the click of the door behind you close and you rush up to Elvis, not giving a damn whether he can’t control himself around you.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! You couldn’t have waited an extra minute so I could leave?!” You yell, pounding your hands on his chest in anger. He doesn't move an inch as you try to push him and feel stupid for even trying to.
"I don't understand why you're so upset..." he scoffs.
"Are you kidding me?! Because I know what you're going to do to her in there! Did you forget I've walked in on you before! You're probably going fuck her and wish it was me!" you say spitefully. "But the only difference is you can compel her to forget it all so that makes her your dream girl doesn't it?" you rasped.
He looks down at you with regret on his face and you can tell he doesn’t like to see you like this. He doesn’t answer you, just keeps breathing shallowly. He looks down at you hungrily, smirking as he looks you once over.
"Hmm... maybe I will," he snarls.
“Why?! Why did you tell me that you wanted to change and then go around doing this! Falling back on your old ways because that’s what’s easy,” you snarl in his face. “I thought you had blood vials, I thought you’d feed from those,” you ask.
“They’re not enough,” he rasped.
“What- I’m not understanding I thought-.”
“You make me starved! Having tasted your blood makes everything else not enough! Nothing is fulfilling like yours! That’s why I need to feed from something… alive!” He yells, sending chills through you.
You couldn’t hide how this scared you. It took his possessiveness to a whole different level. You didn’t need to know much about vampires to know that this was not normal. You thought all blood was the same to him. But it seems he is ruined now and any blood won’t do.
You stand there trembling, unsure what to say.
“What does that mean-,” you ask and watch as he starts to walk away from you.
“I don't have time for this,” he bellows.
“Don’t walk away from me! I deserve answers!” You snap. “What happened to my neck?! What do you call this?” You ask as you pull the scarf off your neck and show him.
“What do you-,”
He doesn’t look right away until you step closer to him and he does a double take, furrowing his eyebrows together. His eyes grow large, shocked at what he is seeing.
You watch as he fights the urge to touch you, clenching his hands into fists on the side of him.
“I… I have no idea. I’d call it luck that I didn’t bite any deeper," he says menacingly, "I need you to leave now so you don’t also become my next meal,” he growls, heading for the door of his bedroom. He gives you one last look before entering, a look of astonishment and hurt.
You too make it quickly out of the suite doors and rush to the elevator. You feel sick to your stomach and wish you could actually talk to him and get the answers you need. You’ve never felt so low in your life. It was bad enough you saw Daniel be unfaithful to you but you never thought Elvis would do something like this to you. You truly believed it when he said how much he needed you in his life. That you weren’t just anyone to him.
You decide to not call Anna and just take a cab instead back to your apartment, you needed to pack your stuff up eventually and tonight seemed like the perfect night to do so. You feel like you lost all sense of direction in your life. Nothing made sense with or without Elvis in your life and you wanted to erase it all. In a way, you wish you could be compelled and forget all the memories you two had. But for whatever reason, you couldn’t and now you have to figure out a way to move on.
You get to the apartment and thankfully, Daniel isn’t home. The place looks disheveled but you don’t care, you just had to focus on your stuff so you don’t have to come back here.
You lock the bedroom door and get the suitcases down from the closet and start piling everything in, you didn’t care how much of a mess it was. You’re moving too fast and you stop to take a breath, feeling the tears fall from your eyes.
You realize you have nothing now. You’re completely on your own and have to start from scratch. It all scared you and made you regret some of the decisions you’ve made. You lay on the bed and let all the events that happened sink in. It’s time for a change and you were the one to make it. Maybe you should look for other jobs in the area. You had plenty of experience and you were sure that another hotel would hire you. The room feels like it’s spinning and you close your eyes, praying that this was all a bad dream.
*
You slowly wake up groggy, rubbing your eyes and trying to get your bearings. The sun was starting to come up and was lighting the room a bit. You look at the clock and it is four-thirty already. You decided to put your two weeks in today and start looking for another job, it was probably for the best. Getting as far away as possible from Elvis might be the best thing for you both.
You sit up in bed and feel a set of eyes on you coming from the side of the room. Your heart pounds away, not wanting to look because you know what you'll find You quickly look over anyway seeing Elvis standing there motionless.
“What are you doing here?” You say coldly.
“I told you, I can’t stay away from you,” he says weakly.
*
Tagging 🖤:
@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxo @loving-elvis
@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen
@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl
@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997
@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut
#elvisaaronpresley#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presely smut#elvis presley imagine#elvis x reader#elvis x y/n#elvis x you#elvis x oc#elvis imagine#sinned awakening#70s elvis#samfangirls#elvis fans#au fic#elvis presley
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you are so real with being disappointed on nightbringer cause i feel the same way
Oh, I have complicated feelings about Nightbringer.
(I’ll use a Read More link here because of vague OG S4 discussion.)
I didn’t whale in OG but I was much more willing to spend extra money chasing cards I wanted. I was really motivated to catch up on all the story content too since I didn’t start playing until the later part of the pandemic. I know S3 and S4 aren’t the greatest bits of story-telling ever written but I had hopes for more Celestial Realm content (a visit and maybe Michael appearance) in S5 based on where Simeon’s storyline was heading.
(I usually picture MC traveling to the CR to see Michael in S5, and maybe another visit of new angels to the Devildom in S6 once tensions are resolved.)
Overall I really liked getting involved with the fandom and I started posting fanfics here. I was so happy with my curated little card collection of favs — Lucifer was my original favourite, followed by Simeon, Barbatos, Solomon and Asmo — and exploring the game with my writing.
And then Nightbringer was announced.
After I spent probably too much money collecting all the HDD cards I wanted not long before that.
And the cards weren’t going to be transferable to the new game! ISN’T THAT FUN?! (Solmare logic, probably.)
I mean, I get it. It’s the nature of gacha games and the motivation is to grow the player base and revenue potential.
Sure, whatever.
And some parts of Nightbringer are fine, while other parts leave me desperately wanting more. Detailed lore that ties into the OG game and characters I care about, more in-depth characterization. Another slow burn love interest would be nice too since NB completely changed the direction of Barb’s development compared to OG S4 (side-eyes Mephisto and Raphael as new potentials). Also, as time goes on, I find myself not really caring who Nightbringer is. Does it even matter anymore? Like…whatever, you do you, buddy. lol
My face if they reveal it’s Barbatos/Solomon/Michael all along:
Oh, and more ROMANCE? Hello??? The babysitter role and goofy family dynamics are satisfying to a point but then it gets stale. Some of the Devilgrams are boring too, and don’t get me started on the EVENTS. I enjoyed the vampire one last year that sparked a random writing frenzy of vampire AU fics, but so many of the events fall flat for me. Anyone else just use S or A Rank skips to breeze past the story bits because 90% of it is boring as hell? Yeah, same.
It sounds like a lot of complaints, but there’s still more about the game I love or I wouldn’t be here: my favs, most of the artwork, the music! The new Dateables song is so goofy - what are those lyrics? - but they didn’t autotune Simeon to death and he sounds so much better than he did in Question Love (the only song whose remix I like better than the original).
I love the people I’ve met in this fandom and being able to share story ideas and headcanons. It’s so exciting when new lessons and cards are announced because the player base gets invigorated again (even if things fall a little flat upon arrival). I’ve splurged on some merch (official and fan-made) and I love being self-indulgent and commissioning artwork of my favs and MC together.
Oh, and I love my OCs. 😚 @ them all.
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girl, I’m not gonna lie to you, I have some free time, and sometimes I really like to use it uselessly. and I found your ig account, then I did some other research and I found a lot about you and your family, so I could really rate you. And yes, I can say properly: you’re ugly.
now, you're kinda right, I give you that. some fit guys do like fat women, maybe one guy out of ten. but these are REALLY PRETTY WOMEN, 'cause I don’t deny that there are beautiful fat women, but they are usually rare, and that’s definitely not you.
I’m not seeking validation wtfff has nothing to do with anything, girl… you seem stupid. I just really found your behavior hilarious. like, how the false illusion of the new age got you, making you really believe in fairy tales. I mean, you're clearly so insecure, trying to pass as “I’m fine with my weight” while really trying to convince yourself that you’re desirable. and like, you’re not 😭 and it’s so fun when you talk about validation, because, you see, I may be petty or bitter or mean, or whatever it is. but, if you really felt confident, pretty, and good about yourself, you would just turn off the anon or ignore me. but no, you’re here, writing answers so you can post and be consoled. that’s how I know you feel pathetic and horrible about yourself, and need these other weirdos to help you fool yourself. you can ignore me, or reply me, it won’t make difference. you too fucking transparent, so easy to read.
or you wouldn’t be doing headcanons of really fit men attracted to you, because if you were desirable and if you really felt that way, you would just know, and not try to reaffirm yourself along with other equally UGLY FAT GIRLS. the main thing here is how out of touch you are with reality. close the tumblr, go to a nice spot in your town, where you KNOW there are hot guys, and please record yourself being chosen by them. if you're so sure of yourself. and open your instagram account, since you have nothing to hide and being ashamed. I mean, you’re pretty right? lol
y’know i’m not doing this cuz i’m insecure💀 also, i never said those hc’s were about me LMAO. i’m very aware that he and every other cod character is fucking fictional💀. this is just my hobby😗✌🏼.
also, why are you so keen about finding out about my personal life? wtf do i have to do with you? it’s fucking creepy to stalk my ig and all that💀. who tf do you think you are?
the only one being pathetic here is you, because you’re out here insulting me via anon haha. at least grow the balls to confront me correctly lol.
but yk, your stupidity and insecurity is pretty hard to ignore. you can have your opinion about me but let me be. i didn’t ask you for it lmao. also, i couldn’t care less about your opinion. you can think i’m ugly, idgaf, but stop annoying me with it.
and idk if you know but talking down on other people has to do with one’s insecurities, so maybe you’re the insecure one here😘.
and yes, i’m fine with my weight. i’ve come to terms with it, since i can’t change it without a medical intervention. is it so hard to believe that someone overweight actually accepts that fact or what? it says that says a lot about you actually.
also, i’m posting this so people can see that there are, unfortunately, still people with the iq of a fucking brick out there. i couldn’t care less about what they tell me. as i said, i’m perfectly fine on my own.
i’m actually laughing writing this because i won’t ignore you. people like you should rethink their life choices ngl.
you’re going crazy over a tumblr post and start to insult me as fat and ugly and you started to fucking stalk me. you’re being the prime example for insecurity rn💀.
your messages can get as long as you want them to be, i will respond to them because it’s sad people still think like you.
there are people out there saying all things about cod or ghost or whoever. if i don’t like them, i scroll, but i don’t start insulting and stalking the author of that post/headcanon/fic or whatever.
grow tf up and get a helmet💀.
#writing#ao3#fanfiction#archive of our own#call of duty#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley headcanons#simon “ghost” riley#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#i’m already starting to love them😍#never seen that much insecurity in one place#truly incredible those messages#keep ‘em going🤞🏼 i love the entertainment#cod
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Hi hope you are fine can you make a fic where Charlie and ruby had a younger brother ,who is Lizzie's pet. so both Charlie and ruby along with their cousin Billy played a prank on him saying he is adopted. So after that whatever happened he thinks that is because he is adopted then the truth came humorously that he is not adopted infront of whole family.
Hey love,
This is a bit on the shorter side and I did change it a bit, but hopefully you like it! Today went well for me and I'm avoiding falling into the pit of despair by writing. Thank you again to everyone who offered support <3
Warnings: Sad kids
Things were always moving a little bit faster than you at Arrow House. No matter how hard you tried your little legs couldn't keep up. They were clumsy, and you often skinned your knees on the ground. Ruby used to help you all the time, but you felt that she would rather run ahead with Charlie these days.
While sitting in the patch of mud you had slipped in, you sighed remembering the real reason you didnt fit. You were adopted. You thought back to that night, angry at yourself for not having been tough. The cousins were telling spooky stories, you had gotten scared and tried to cling to Ruby. Such a baby’s mistake. Billy had said that you were scared because you were adopted. That your dad never got scared, which was true, so naturally you weren't his son.
You had tried to push his words out of your head since, but every time you landed on the ground, knocked something over, or couldn't play the game well, the words came back to haunt you. You weren't really a part of the family.
Lizzie came to help you and you looked up at her feeling embarrassed. She wasn't even your mum, she shouldn't have to help you all the time. You got yourself up and walked back to the house. You brushed off her attempts to help you no matter how much you wanted her help.
These feelings only weighed you down further as the family came around. The other kids were too loud to compete with. Tommy was busy, he didnt have time to waste on a little boy who got scared. This information didn't soothe the ache in your heart as he would twirl Ruby in the air, or ruffle Charlie’s hair.
You pulled away and tried to get used to doing things on your own. Charlie and Ruby seemed happy that you didnt bother them anymore.
____________________________________________________________
There was a big ball being held at the house and Ruby was convinced that it was because she was a princess. That Tommy was looking for her prince charming. You felt even more sick at the thought of being introduced and shown off as one of the Shelby family. They were supposed to walk out with Lizzie and Tommy, and then Esme was to take them downstairs to hang out with the cousins and Finn.
You looked down at the fancy suit they had put you in and tried to imagine yourself being tall like Tommy. Tall, and Feared. But no matter how tall you imagined yourself you knew that you wouldn't grow right. You would look however your real parents looked.
Were they tall or short?
“Come on, times almost up.” Tommy’s voice made you jump. He surprised you by picking you up into his arms. You tried to hide your face ashamed of the tears forming in your eyes.
For a small moment, you felt that your dad had tried to find you specifically like they wouldn't go out without you.
“Hey, now. What’s wrong?” He asked.
“You don’t have to take me out there.” You whispered feeling so small.
“Can’t be a Shelby entrance without all the Shelbys” He answered easily. “It’s alright if you're shy, I’ll carry you.”
“No, but I’m not a Shelby.” The tears fell and you looked up at Tommy watching his eyebrows come together.
“Not a Shelby Eh?” You nodded sniffling.
“Look at me.” You tried to maintain eye contact with him but it was a challenge. “You are a Shelby, I’ve worked very hard to build a life for you that you can be proud of - ”
You didnt understand what he meant.
“But everyone told me I’m adopted it doesn't matter what kind of life you're proud of.” You stumbled on the words and it took Tommy a long moment to answer.
“I watched over you in your mum’s belly for nine months, I watched you come into the world, and I was the first person to hold you. There is no way you're adopted.”
“Your lying. I get scared, you never get scared so cousin Billy told me that it’s because I'm adopted.”
“Cousin Billy is full of shit.” He laughed. “I’ll tell you a secret.” He lowered his voice to just a whisper. “I get scared all the time. I just learned not to show it.”
“Oh. I should hide it then? Just push it down?” You were so relieved that there was a way to get better. Your father stared ahead for a long moment till Mum yelled at him from the top of the stairs.
“No” His eyes flashed down to you finally. “If you're scared, tell me.”
“THOMAS” Your mother called from the stairs and you watched your dad roll his eyes.
“You ready then?” He asked you and you nodded happy that he held you tightly the whole time. He carried you down the stairs as everyone was announced. Some old people pinched his cheeks and cooed at him. Then your dad sent you off with Esme with a wink.
She held your hand and you thought about telling her about Billy. Anger filled your tummy and you decided you would have to handle this like a grown-up. How your dad or uncles would handle it.
“Alright, Finn?” Esme called and Finn rolled his eyes from where he had perched himself in the widow sill. Esme laughed then let go of your hand and left. You looked around the room still angry.
Finn was on the opposite end of the room as Billy, so it seemed like a good time to strike. You walked over grabbing a toy truck from the ground.
He paid no attention as you walked over.
“I am not adopted.” You announced with a new sense of power.
“Yes you a-” You didnt let him finish as you smacked him hard across the cheek with the toy truck. You felt guily as soon as you had done it. Finn almost fell trying to get off the window sill and scooped you up into the air before the bigger boy could retaliate.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR -” Billy let out a loud groan. Finn tried to compose himself, but you could tell that he wanted to laugh.
“I AM NOT ADOPTED.” You shouted at him.
“Alright, no one is adopted. No hitting.” Finn looked at each of the boys. Despite the age difference between you and Billy both of you knew that Finn was the coolest person on the planet. He had cigarettes and girlfriends, he could drive, and his hair was all swoopy.
Both boys apologized and the night continued on. You didnt try to chase after everyone, and eventually, Finn came and put you on the window sill with him. He read you a storybook that had no pictures, but it was just as good because he did the funny voices. You hoped that he had enjoyed it just as much as you did.
#Shelby family#Thomas shelby#Lizzie Shelby#Peaky blinders#peaky blinders oneshot#peaky blinders request#Kid Reader X Shelby family#Thomas shelby oneshot#Tommy shelby oneshot
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Paint me red.
PART 4
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Summary: You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.
CW / Disclaimer: A bunch of cute stuff, just a nice feel good fic about our dear boy Steve.
Author’s note: It was time to write about Steve Harrington, so here it is. Four parts, can find them both on here and on my ao3: eddiemunsons. Enjoy!
Words: (of current chapter) 2783 / (complete fic) 13059
Steve’s POV
Steve had himself draped nearly flat over the counter, arms folded under his head as he watched Robin dart from left to right in front of him while she talked. He watched with mild amusement as she gestured wildly along with her words. In all fairness, he wasn’t exactly following what the point of her story was anymore as she had redirected the course of it about six times now, but he loved hearing her talk.
“… so. You’re coming to the fair with me.”
He frowned.
“Huh?”
Robin rolled her eyes affectionately and ruffled his hair, which immediately caused him to straighten his back to fix it.
“Have you even been listening?” she asked. Steve nodded, then shrugged, then shook his head.
“I… tried?” He provided a crooked smile.
“Vickie and Y/N are working at the fair. I’m gonna give Vickie a visit so you should come. They work at a food stall so… can have a nice chat and stuff.”
Steve thought back on the last time he had seen you and suppressed the smile that threatened to grow on his lips. He remembered how fun it had been during the paintball game, how you had painted a flower on his cheek and how he hadn’t wanted you to get out of his car in favor of talking to you for a little while longer.
“Won’t that be weird?” Steve questioned, considering that maybe you wouldn’t want to see him. It wasn’t like you had given him the idea that you were interested at all. Normally, girls would fawn over him before he even had to woo them. Except with Robin, but Robin was gay. Even Nancy had given obvious signs that she was interested. What if…
“Are you sure she’s into guys?”
“Uh, yeah? I think she’s definitely into guys. Why does that matter? Are you into her?”
Steve avoided her smug expression. Robin was having none of it and moved her head into his vision, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“She’s nice,” Steve mumbled.
“Nice.”
“Yeah! She’s nice. Can’t people be nice?”
“Just nice?”
Steve sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. Robin always did stuff like that. Asked questions in a way that made him want to defend his answers.
“She’s nice and… funny.”
Robin raised her brow.
“Fine, she’s also hot. Her eyes are really pretty. Nice hair too and… well, everything,” Steve admitted with a sigh. Robin could read him like a book, as usual. He just hoped he was only obvious to her. His crushes on people blossomed way too quickly. People could simply portray some basic human decency and he’d feel a subtle notion of butterflies. Not actual butterflies, but his brain could easily trick him into believing they were.
Robin’s subtle smile spread into a grin.
“I thought so. You like her. So. Fair? Yes? Can I tell Vickie we’ll be there?”
“Sure, yeah. Do that.”
Robin smirked and grabbed her pack of gum from the counter.
“Perfect. Want one?”
“Yes, thanks.”
The fair was bustling with people all around, visitors a mix of children to elderly, though teens and young adults were mostly prevalent. While Steve took in the various stalls and attractions they had, Robin was trying to make a beeline towards the stall you and Vickie were at. It was when Steve glanced up at a giant pink teddy bear, his footsteps faltering, that Robin sighed and hooked her arm through his.
“Don’t get any ideas, she might be one of the many girls that don’t like pink.”
“I was just looking,” Steve argued, turning his head to look at it one more time. “It’s just… massive, isn’t it? I never understood why anyone would want a big plushie like that.”
“To hug it, sit against it, I don’t know. I don’t like them either.”
“Don’t they have their partners for that?” Steve questioned out loud, to which Robin shrugged.
“Maybe it’s for when they miss them? Anyway, maybe plushies hug better than some people.” A beat and then: “Vickie gives the best hugs.”
Steve smiled softly at her and let her lead him towards the food stall. It was easy to spot Vickie in the distance, though he didn’t see you yet. Perhaps you were taking a break or something. Once they arrived at Vickie’s stall they were met with a bright smile and she quickly walked around it to hug them both.
“Hi guys!” She immediately eyed Steve apologetically. “Sorry, Y/N isn’t here.”
“Oh,” Steve said, unable to hide his disappointment all that well. “That’s— she’s not sick or anything, is she?”
“Oh, no! She’s just not here,” Vickie said, pointing to the ground. “She had to cover for someone at the haunted house.” Steve followed her gaze towards a creepy looking attraction where several people stormed out of every now and then. Fun.
“Oh okay, cool. I’ll see if I can spot her later, maybe.”
“You should go in! It’s really fun. And scary of course,” she said with a giggle. “I’ll be here when you get back,” she told Robin then with a bored roll of her eyes. “I’ll be here alllll night.”
Robin squeezed her hand sympathetically and smiled.
“Will you have time to walk around with me later? I saw a giant bear plushie that I want to win for you.”
Steve gaped at her and she shrugged as a smile tugged on her lips.
“So that’s why you were so damned to drag me away, huh? You wanted it all for yourself,” Steve concluded with narrowed eyes.
“She likes pink,” Robin said, as if that was enough of an explanation. Vickie beamed at her and nodded excitedly.
“Yeah! I’ll get off at ten so we will have two hours or so. Just promise me you won’t waste all your savings, please. Let’s agree on an amount.”
“Who says I’m not a professional at balloon popping?” Robin countered with a playful smile. Vickie batted her eyelashes at her and wrapped her arms around her neck before giving her a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Alright. Show me your best!”
After that, Steve and Robin headed to the ticket booth of the haunted house and he was surprised not to see you there either. For some reason that had seemed to be the most logical place to spot you next. It bugged him a little that disappointment swirled in his stomach. When did his desire to see you become so strong all of a sudden?
“Maybe she’s inside?” Robin offered, noticing his confused expression.
“To do what?”
“I don’t know, scare people?”
Steve shrugged and joined Robin in the row to the haunted house. Many screams were heard from both inside and at the exit and if he was honest, he was already dreading it. He wasn’t scared that easily, he liked to think (it was a lie), but haunted houses just gave him the type of fright that was hard to ignore, especially if someone ran after him unexpectedly. There was no way he was backing out though, he just hoped he’d see you somehow. Maybe they did some storytelling inside? He doubted you were a scare actor since they usually went all out for that with make up and costumes and what not. According to Vickie you had been called upon pretty last minute.
It was extremely dark inside and he fought the urge to grab Robin’s hand immediately. She’d never let him hear the end of it. Cautiously, they walked forward, the first room being filled with eerie sounds and cobwebs hanging low from the wall. They even added a giant spider on one, which creeped him out already. This was going to be hell. His eyes flickered over to the jail bars next to him as they entered the next room and he noticed actors were standing behind it, occasionally snaking a hand through the bars. Robin however hadn’t noticed, and when one of them lightly grazed her arm, she bolted with a scream.
“Oh, great,” Steve mumbled dryly, earning a giggle from an actor breaking character for a second. He hoped Robin was alright, as he didn’t find her in the next room, or the next. His eyes were so focused on finding the entrance to the following room that he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. Out of nowhere, an actor jumped in front of him, arms wide open as if to grab him.
“AHH!”
As he jumped backwards he saw that they were smaller than him and wearing a mask and, he vaguely noticed through his own screaming, were calling him by his name.
“Steve! Steve, it’s me!”
Y/N’s pov
Steve relaxed cautiously as you put your hands on his shoulders after lifting the mask up to rest on top of your head.
“Steve.” A soft giggle escaped you. “It’s me, Y/N.” You gave his shoulders a quick squeeze and pulled him aside in case the next group would show up.
“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Steve sighed exasperatedly as his hands searched for a way to hold onto you. He settled for a brief brush of his hands against your shoulders before he dropped his arms again. “Ever thought of saying hi instead? I think I lost three years of my life just now.”
You couldn’t help but giggle some more and squeezed his shoulders lightly. Your hands traveled down his arms until it felt right to remove them and you shrugged.
“It is a haunted house after all. Wait, then I guess it was Robin who I saw running past just now then, huh? I was still processing that but then I saw you and I was certain it was you, so…”
“It’s me. Steve “The Deceased” Harrington. I might as well stay here forever now, become a corpse,” Steve said with a heavy hand gesture.
“You’re so dramatic, Steve.” You smiled. “Go on, before the others come. I don’t wanna keep you.” You urged him towards the next room but he shook his head.
“Wait— Uh… Do you also get off at ten? Like Vickie?”
“Yes…?” you asked, feeling there was more to that question.
“Do you want to hang out with me after? Vickie and Robin are going to and I don’t really want to be a third wheel and uhm… Well no it’s not just that, I also had fun with you last time, so. Yeah. Just a question. If you like.”
He ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck all in one motion and sighed, unsure what to do next. You smiled at him.
“I’d love to. We can meet at the food stall? I’ll for sure be hungry and I’ve promised myself some churros.”
Steve nodded.
“Alright, meet you there.” He glanced towards the next room. “I don’t trust this place after what you did to me just now.”
“You’ll be fine. Just be prepared for when the guy with the chainsaw comes running after you and don’t break a leg, please. ‘S gonna be hard to walk around the fair with me otherwise.”
“A guy with a— Okay, I’ll do my best,” Steve groaned. “Nice seeing you again, despite these circumstances,” he added with a soft smile. You nodded in agreement.
“Nice seeing you too, Steve “The Deceased” Harrington.”
Ten couldn’t come around soon enough. Luckily time passed faster in a haunted house than it did at a food stall, as the energy of people in an attraction was vastly different. You managed to scare quite a few people, though you didn’t jump in front of anyone like you had with Steve. That had been personal, for the sake of it. Other than that one time you spent your time walking through the room slowly, dragging a fake ax behind you on the ground. That was scary enough for most people. Being in a haunted house usually made them skittish for the mere fact that they were in it.
Aside from time passing by fast, you wished you had spent it at the food stall instead. It would have meant you didn’t smell like a stuffy mask and your hair would still be perfectly in place and Steve would probably— Hold on. You stopped your train of thought quickly. Since when were you focusing on appearance when it came to Steve? You shook your head, quickly shrugging it off. Nonsense, you just wanted to be presentable in general. That was all. A relieved sigh left your mouth which coincidentally startled a person who had just wandered into the room. Oops.
You left a little past ten as you waited for someone to replace you since you had only agreed to take over until that time. After handing the guy your mask and long, oversized coat you had been wearing to hide your clothes, you quickly made your exit towards the staff bathrooms to freshen up a little. Wearing a red t-shirt to match the food stall had all been fun until you didn’t spend most of the night there, as well as the red lipstick you had decided to wear. Your light blue washed jeans and black boots finished the look and to your relief you still looked presentable enough after a quick touch up.
You were only half surprised to just see Steve standing there and you couldn’t blame Robin and Vickie for wanting to get as much time together as they could. Seeing Steve all by himself did make you feel a little guilty though, considering it was already twenty minutes past the agreed time. Once you got closer, you realized he was wearing a paper cone with churros and your heart swelled a little. Vickie had already cleaned up the food stall, so getting them yourself would have been out of the question. He seemed to be lost in thought still when you halted next to him and decided to give him the lightest poke on his bicep.
“Don’t wanna scare you a second time,” you told him softly. Steve turned around, still a little startled, and you watched his face break out in a smile.
“Hey you,” he greeted you.
“Hi,” you quipped with a grin. He gave himself a moment to drink you in before he held out the churros.
“Here, for you. Told Vickie you wanted some.”
“You’re a hero, oh my god, thank you!” you groaned at the sight as you accepted it from his hand, fingers sliding past yours. “You want one too?”
Steve shook his head, his smile soft.
“I’m good, I had some just now. I uh… got you a drink too,” he said as he held it in view. “You wanna go for a walk around?”
You smiled at how considerate he was and nodded with your mouth full of your first churro bite. He took it as a yes and smirked as he nodded over to the right.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
There was a comfortable silence between you while you devoured your churros and gratefully accepted the drink he had gotten you on Vickie’s suggestion. You spotted her and Robin at the balloon popping stand and tugged Steve along by his arm when he wanted to make his way over.
“This is their date, let’s give them some privacy,” you told him softly as Steve willingly let himself be pulled along. As you passed a ring toss booth, your eyes flicked towards a cute plushie. It was a weird, purple little mushroom supposedly standing on a rock. Steve followed your gaze and lowered himself a little to catch the right one into view, his hands resting on his hips.
“Hmm… the dog?” he tried, pointing at an adorable dalmatian dog plushie.
“Nope, the purple mushroom.”
A giggle left his mouth, surprising himself it seemed as he clasped a hand over his mouth and he pulled his hands up defensively as you quirked a brow at him.
“No it’s— adorable! Really. Just didn’t expect it.”
“No? Well lucky me, I love being a little unpredictable.” You shrugged and Steve chuckled, pulling gently on your wrist as you set another step away from the booth.
“Oh you are, believe me,” Steve mumbled with a soft sigh. “Come on, let’s get you your weird little mushroom.”
“You’re gonna win it for me, huh?” you asked, eyeing him provocatively as if you didn’t believe he could.
“No,” he told you, lowering himself to your height. “We are going to win it.”
After a couple tries, you fought a smile at every failed attempt. Not because it was funny to see him fail, but because the soft little grunts he made were simply adorable. He tried not to show it, but he definitely started to get worse the moment he realized it wasn’t as easy as anticipated.
“Now I see why you said we were going to win it,” you teased, a grin almost permanent on your face now.
“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled, nudging you with his elbow. “If you’re so good, show me how it’s done then? Come on.”
“Oh I couldn’t possibly be as good as you. We stand no chance if we waste our tries on little ol’ me.” Acting like a damsel in distress had never been this funny to you. Steve rolled his eyes affectionately and put his hand on the small of your back to move you in front of him.
“Here, hold this. Swing it towards the red ones, they are worth the most.”
“He says as if I haven’t been paying attention,” you remarked dryly. “You didn’t think I was just staring at you, were you?”
“Wouldn’t mind if you were.”
It left his lips so naturally that your grip on the ring faltered for a second. You could feel him smiling. Oh, he was loving this.
“Well, too bad, Steve. I was too focused on watching you try.”
Steve whistled softly and pretended to clasp his heart, though you couldn’t really see it as your back was still facing his front. You definitely didn’t miss the sound of him slapping his own chest, though.
“You try it then,” he challenged.
“Hmm, not gonna show me how it works? That’s surprising.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
A chuckle left your lips. He was getting bolder and you found that you liked it. Kept his distance, yet hovered closely behind you. Gave you lingering looks but didn’t push for anything after them. It was a playful game.
“Oh, no need, I’m good. I just figured since you’re breathing down my neck a little, that you were gonna pull a move or something.”
Games aside though, you slightly cursed yourself at your need to bite back, wondering how long it would take before you crossed a line with him. It wasn’t as if you knew him that well. To your surprise, he laughed.
“I didn’t think you were the type that enjoys cliché moves like that.”
“So what type do you think I am?”
“Someone determined to win her own weird mushroom plushies, probably.”
You laughed at that and finally gave the ring a flick of your wrist, landing around a green stick which was thirty points.
“You make it sound so…” Unsure how to finish the sentence, you simply threw another ring, and another, not bothering to really try. After three more throws you had seventy points in total, which wasn’t a lot.
“You’re not even trying,” he remarked dryly as he nudged your shoulder gently.
“So rude,” you retorted, a playful smile on your lips as you turned around. “I guess you should show me how it’s done then,” you quipped with a shrug of your shoulder. Steve leaned closer, his front and your back nearly squeezing out the warmth that was gathering between you both as he picked up the remaining rings you had. Where you expected him to do the whole touchy feely thing, he did the opposite. Instead, he stood next to you and nudged your hip with his own to make room.
“Alright then,” he smirked and, oh. The bastard had the audacity to wink. Apparently your little back and forth had caused a surge in confidence within him though, because he managed to hit the five remaining rings all in either fifty or forty. With your points counted together you were just a few tens short, but with some convincing words from Steve you got it anyway. The man in the booth handed it to you and you squeezed it with delight before holding it up to Steve, nearly pushing it into his face.
“Look at it! Isn’t it cute?!”
Steve laughed and nodded at you, pushing the plushie down with his hand a bit to meet your eyes.
“Almost as cute as you are right now.”
Well damn. He did it again. A faint blush tainted your cheeks and you quickly lowered the plushie to hold it against your side. Steve cocked his head, amused at your reaction and tapped the back of your hand with his finger.
“Where to next?”
Since the ring throwing had basically been for you and your plushie, you decided that it was Steve’s time to pick. Without missing a beat he decided on the ferris wheel. Curiosity built up in your belly, wondering whether the ferris wheel held any other implications than admiring the view, which wouldn’t be too impressive at this time of night. The lights were nice, sure, but other than that you couldn’t really see far and wide like you would during the day. Though, that would be less romantic, you supposed. Not that you were hoping for it to be romantic, although…
Your eyes found Steve’s face again, as they had quite a bit tonight. You had promised yourself not to let yourself be tempted by him so easily. But what could you do? He was funny, kind, charming, a flirt in a fun way, handsome as hell and just… really sweet. Making sure you had your churros had been really thoughtful and it was nice how he wanted to win the plushie for you without being all alpha male about it.
“Something on my face?” Steve interrupted your thoughts. You blinked rapidly, turning your head away as you shrugged, trying to remain casual.
“Just your freckles. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but you have quite a few.”
Steve sighed and when he answered that he did in fact know, he actually sounded a bit self conscious, which was the last thing you wanted to achieve with that statement.
“I like them. They’re really pretty,” you stated.
Now it was Steve’s turn to look at you, eyebrows lifted in surprise, as if no one had ever told him how pretty his freckles were. As if. There was no way all those girls looked at that man and didn’t compliment him on it, right? From the looks of it, your words had an effect on him as he positively started blushing a deep crimson and mumbled something incoherently that mostly seemed to resemble ‘thanks’. Damn. Add cute to that list.
“Here we are,” you announced as if the giant ferris wheel in front of you wasn’t enough of a confirmation. “Ready to get high?”
Steve smirked. “Eddie would love that joke.” He frowned to himself, awkwardly gestured towards the sky and sighed. “The uh, high thing. He’s a friend.”
“I remember him,” you told him with a nod. “Wouldn’t have imagined you two together as friends though, somehow.”
“We both happened to hang out with this kid and— I’m making it weirder,” Steve sighed. “Dustin. Henderson? He lives near you.”
“Oh! Yeah I know him. He’s alright. Seems like an old man in a kid’s body sometimes, so I’m not surprised he keeps up with you two.”
“Uh… thanks?” Steve responded unsurely, though he seemed to understand exactly what you meant.
“Did you find it funny though?”
“What?”
“The high joke.”
“Oh! Yeah. I did.”
“Oof… no need to lie, Steve, that hurts…”
“I’m n— Y/N. You're making a fool of me again, huh?”
Just as you wanted to respond, the guy at the ticket booth interrupted you.
“Hey, lovebirds, are you gonna go in or not? We’re about to start the last round.”
“Jeez… already?” you mumbled to yourself. “Yeah, Frank. Two tickets please.”
“Oh just go in already,” Frank grumbled, but answered your smile as you gave him a grateful nod. Steve let you get in first and watched how you clutched the plushie between your thighs.
“Can’t risk losing it,” you explained. Steve nodded in understanding and settled next to you, making the cart wobble a bit as he did so. As soon as the cart started to move to the next spot, you felt how Steve put his arm behind your back, his hand wrapping around a part of the frame.
It was the first time the usual comfortable silence between the two of you actually felt a little awkward, especially when you felt his thigh press against yours. Steve seemed to be focused on the view although you could feel how he was drumming against the frame with his fingers since his arm flexed against your upper back. When you reached the top, Steve finally broke the silence.
“Can you point out where your home is?”
Startled by his sudden question, you looked around for things you recognized and narrowed your eyes.
“Hmm… I’m not good at this. Somewhere in that direction though, you said as you stretched out your arm to point.
“Almost,” Steve mumbled, lifting his own arm to circle his hand around your wrist and adjust it. “Right there.”
You smiled softly and turned your head to respond, but quickly found that his face was so close that it felt safer to just talk towards the darkness of the night.
“You could be pointing at the other side of town and I’d still believe you,” you mumbled. Steve chuckles softly and your current position made it easy to feel the vibration of his laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up again.
“Now that’s a little worrying, trusting me blindly.”
“I trust you won’t take advantage of that. And anyway, it’s not like I won’t know my way back after that.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” The atmosphere finally felt a little relaxed again. Your chest didn’t feel as tight anymore and words came more easily to you. At least until Steve let go of the frame and wrapped it around your shoulder instead.
“You need a ride home?”
“Yeah, that would be lovely, thank you,” you answered without thinking twice about whether you and Vickie would be going home together. All you could think about right now was his hand, that was currently grazing your arm gently with his blunt fingertips, giving the subtlest scratch.
“Okay.”
He felt so close. So goddamn close. You could feel his breath on your neck, the press on your thigh heavier and you closed your eyes for a moment, facing forward still.
“Would be a little cliché if we kissed now, huh?” he murmured softly, daring to use his hand to pull you against him a little.
“So cliché,” you agreed, your brain working hard to grasp at every word to give it some meaning.
“And you don’t like clichés.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No. Doesn’t matter though,” you responded weakly, unable to come up with a better retort.
“Because?”
“Who says I’ll let you kiss me?”
Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. You were close to psychically groaning when yet again, he managed to surprise you with a soft laugh. How you had managed to not fuck this up yet with your responses was a miracle to you.
“Who says I was gonna make the first move?”
“Too cliché?” you asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just nervous. Come on.”
Without you realizing, you had arrived at the bottom again and it was time to get out. He held out his hand to help you out of the wobbly cart and didn’t let go once you were back on the grass, a few feet away from the ferris wheel exit. For a moment, you just stood there and watched as several booths turned off their lights until Steve squeezed your hand gently.
“To the car?” he suggested, his glance at you a slightly nervous one. He had been serious about feeling nervous, then. You nodded and gave him a soft smile and returned a squeeze to his hand. All the way to his car, your hands never let go and you even managed some casual conversation, such as Steve mentioning the pink bear he had spotted with Robin earlier that evening.
“Oh, Vickie would love that,” you said. “I hope they managed to get it.”
“Hope so too,” Steve agreed. “Still happy you went for your weird mushroom?”
“Absolutely. It’s the best combination of weird and cute. Plus, I like purple.”
“That’s good, I’m glad.”
Steve opened the passenger’s side for you first before joining you in the car behind the wheel. He drove off slowly as many people left the fair on foot and didn’t exactly pay attention to whether they were about to be hit by a car or not. You already missed his hand holding yours. Apart from listening to the tape Steve had put on, not much happened during the ride. You talked a bit about other funny encounters in the haunted house and he shook his head, remembering his own fright.
“Can’t believe you jumped in front of me.”
“Can’t believe I actually scared you.”
“That’s what jumpscares are supposed to do, isn’t it? You literally jumped and scared me,” he pointed out. You giggled, again reliving the moment and he groaned.
“You’re enjoying this so much.”
“Come on. It was funny.”
“If you’re evil maybe.”
“I’m evil now?”
“A little.”
“Hm. So what would make me a whole lot evil?”
Steve mulled it over for a moment, stopping the car in front of your home in the meantime. Eventually, he shrugged.
“I don’t know, man. I’ll let you know when you do, how about that?”
You chuckled.
“Alright.”
Glancing at your front porch, you sighed softly. Yet another night had come to its end and this time, you really didn’t feel like leaving the car. Steve leaned forward a little to block your view.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked curiously.
“Time.”
“Time?”
“Yup, time. Goes by too fast,” you sighed and he smiled and nodded to show he agreed with you.
“Sure does.” He rested his head against the headrest sideways so he could look at you, his index finger tapping the back of your hand gently like he had done earlier this evening.
“You looked really pretty tonight. Red suits you well.”
Oh how grateful you were for the dim light surrounding you, because you were definitely, definitely blushing now.
“Oh— thanks.”
A professional at taking in compliments, you were definitely not. Steve smiled and you watched how his eyes lowered to your lips for a moment as he wet his own with his tongue. You swallowed. You felt his hand trail upwards from yours all the way up to your shoulder, only to then cup your cheek gently.
“Would be cliché, huh,” he murmured softly.
“So cliché,” you agreed once more.
A smile crept onto his lips and he leaned back, leaving you a little confused. Yet, you didn’t dare say anything, not even when he drove off again and parked around the corner.
“Better,” he concluded. “Doubt you’ve ever had a guy nearly kiss you only to then drive his car around the corner to actually do it, and even explain the whole ordeal to you,” he added, fighting a grin that broke through regardless. You giggled and shook your head, gently biting down on your bottom lip.
“Never. Now kiss me,” you sighed impatiently, unbuckling your seatbelt as you did. Steve didn’t waste a second to cup your face again and smirked when he felt you undo his seatbelt as well.
“Thought you’d never ask. Or… demand, more like.”
“Steve.”
Another giggle, this time it was him.
“Okay, okay.”
His lips found yours easily, pressing closer the moment the first touch was initiated. Lips parted and tongues slipped past, earning you both a kiss you had longed for longer than either of you was willing to admit. A kiss that just felt right. A kiss where thoughts didn’t matter, overthinking didn’t exist and the feeling only grew stronger as you went on. The soft sounds escaping your lips were reciprocated by some of his as you both worked hard to be as close as possible with the nuisance of being in a car. He hummed pleasantly as your hand tugged gently on his hair as you combed through it, kissing you a bit more demanding. His hand rested on your waist now, thumb stroking your shirt gently wherever it could reach. When you finally parted, your dazed state soon turned into laughter when you realized your lipstick had traveled all across both your faces.
“Red suits you too,” you told him sweetly. Steve smiled and couldn’t resist another peck on your lips, which inadvertently resulted into another make out session. Maybe, just maybe, you liked Steve Harrington quite a bit after all. Lucky for you, he liked you too.
- FIN
Masterlist
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things fanfics
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Text
Comfort
(Eddie Munson x Female Reader x Steve Harrington)
Summary: Mother Nature is a bitch, and well, so are you. Until your boyfriends decide to help out a little…
Pairings: Steddie x Fem!Reader
Word count: 2,757
Warnings: Language, NSFW, bodily fluids, anxiety, thrupple fighting, blood, period stuff, period sex, vaginal sex, obvious threesome, tooth rotting fluff & comfort, and MORE!
A/N: You know, I can’t ever write a fic with the general idea in mind, and stick to it. I always have to develop additions along the way. Anyways, I’m gonna try and keep this one short, and I hope it makes sense, lol. It started out as comfort and I decided to just go for it, so if period sex/blood in smut is not your thing—AVOID! I also couldn’t decide between the two men, thus I am doing a three way again!
The feedback on She’s Trouble has been immaculate and astounding to me! I thank all of you so much, with all my heart! I’m sorry I couldn’t reply to everyone, it was just a lot! But I saw every comment and tag! 💘🥹
Also, I’m not using tags, because I don’t know who will and will not be comfortable with this kind of content!
I hope y’all enjoy this?! <3 - Kristen
~*~
You tried to be still at the Wheeler’s kitchen table, you really did. Listening to Nancy get lost in a speech about her latest editorial, Robin hyping her up on the sidelines, and the kids throwing popcorn at each other in the living room, with Mike bitching about it getting in the carpet and pissing his mom off. Your heels haven’t touched the floor since you began bouncing your feet about ten minutes ago, fingers fighting twitching urges to staple themselves to your temples. There’s probably a sour look of disgust on your face, but you’re starting to pass that point where do not you care. With the last dousing of humid air over Hawkins, Indiana, you feel as if your entire core temperature is a blazing inferno.
Combine that with the lacking effects your morning shower had to keep you cooled down, and you make for one pissed off person. You roll your eyes at your own dramatic antics, squirming in the seat and causing it to make a shifting squeak. It must be louder than you heard, as Nancy is questioning you. “Hey, you okay, Y/N?”
Dear god in Heaven, why is she drawing attention to me?
You fold your arms across your chest, tucking them neatly, teeth grinding as you force out, “I’m fine, Nance.”
“You don’t look fine. You actually, kinda look like you’re about to puke.” Robin interjects, hand draped across the chair adjacent to yours.
If you could move without that disgusting flood between your legs, then you would probably kill your best-friend for stating the obvious.
“Who’s gonna vomit?” Comes a deep voice that takes his place beside Nancy, who now has her brows knit in concern. Steve.
And wherever he goes, Eddie has followed, as of lately. You’re clenching your lids closed, head bowing, hands resting across your heated cheeks. When you look up, Eddie has that stupid shit eating grin on his face that you can’t decide if you want to punch or kiss. An automatic shared stare is directed your way, making you sink under its observation, nausea growing.
Steve speaks first, noting your disheveled appearance. There’s sweat beading all over your face, tension in your normally relaxed muscles, and you give an air of a trapped animal. He frowns, moving around the table and readying his large hand to place on your forehead. You quickly dart off, waving your hands. “How about no, dude?”
Dude? Since—
“when do you call Harrington a dude, baby?” Eddie cuts Steve’s internal questioning, confusing himself.
“When he starts crowding my personal space, Edward. That’s when.” You snap, Nancy clicking her tongue as the wheels spin in her head and she lands on knowing exactly what is going on with you.
Eddie’s jaw unhinges in a comical pry, hand splaying across his heart. “Okay, now that was just nasty.”
“Um, do I look at all like I care?” Hands on your hips, that crowded anxiety begins tangoing with your hormones, anger seeping from your pores like acid.
You know your mood towards them is irrational, you are too aware. But there’s a devil on your shoulder that goes by Aunt Flo, and she’s getting her kicks by pulling your strings.
“Okay, that’s enough. What is going on with you?” Steve raises his deep voice a few octaves, annoyed and defensive of himself and your shared partner.
Ever-changing moods, guilt swells in your chest, carving out its permanent residence for the next several days. Your vision blurs and you clamber from your seat, apologizing to Robin and Nancy, before walking over to where Eddie and Steve stand side by side, your fingers brushing over their hands, voice barely above a whisper. “M’ sorry. I just wanna go home, please.”
Eddie is perturbed. It was his week to pick out the restaurant for date night, and you’d all planned on driving over there after your excursion at the Wheelers. And now you’re acting like he and Steve are dog shit on your shoes. He’s nauseated.
Nancy is quick to catch you in a hug before you can leave, rubbing up and down your shoulders, her voice by your ear. “They might be guys, but I’m pretty sure they’ll understand if you tell them what’s going on.” She pecks your cheek and gives you another squeeze, sliding back and away, dropping off with an, “I’ll call you later, okay?”
You’ve never been more grateful for her and that mutual understanding.
~*~
The ride back to your house is silent. You’d opted for the backseat of Steve’s BMW, leaving your boyfriends up front with each other, stealing glimpses of your exhausted face in the rear view. When you do arrive at your cul-de-sac, you linger on the door handle, partially expecting them to object to your retreat. Eddie, whom can read you like a fucking textbook he’d studied three times over in school—isn’t having it. You can’t blame him.
“We’re goin’ on the date. You can stay home and mope and bitch at the wall. We’ll bring you somethin’ back later.” He’s got his hands folded across his black t-shirt clad chest, opting to cast his gaze elsewhere as you silently remove yourself from the car, heart being pulverized beneath your breast.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t… just don’t worry about it, yeah?” It comes off jagged and fragmented, versus how you wanted it to sound—reassuring and strong.
You watch them both in the beginning stages of blurred vision. Steve is holding onto the wheel tightly, his expressions fighting for dominance—ones that you can’t decipher in the moment. Anger or defeat, maybe? You nod, at who, you aren’t sure. You wring your fingers together.
“Well, okay. Be safe and have a good time.” As if Aunt Flo didn’t destroy your entire day, she up and leaves you for vacation, obliterating all your previous anger.
Stupid fucking hormonal bitch.
“I love you.” Comes off your lips in a softness that is directed at them both.
Eddie does seek you out then, nostrils flaring, chocolate irises softening. Steve opens and closes his mouth, words caught. You don’t stay behind to embarrass yourself any longer.
~*~
Cramps that are absolutely devouring your insides, you figure that’s a good punishment for your attitude today. Tylenol, nor the heating pad are helping, and your migraine has only worsened since you got off the phone with Nancy and an apologetic Robin, who made enough ‘crimson tide’ jokes to take you into the next century. Smoothing things over with them eased some anxieties, but you can’t stop thinking about how your boys are enjoying the date that Eddie was so excited about. Is it a burger joint that will be followed by chocolate shakes and handcuffs? Or maybe it’s a fancy little pizzeria and some cheap wine, with Eddie’s finest stash and his sinfully gifted mouth?
Whatever it is, it’s your fault that you’re not partaking. Scrubbing a hand across your tear stained eyes, you discard the heating pad and opt for some good ol’ fashioned sulking in your room. However, you don’t make it to the stairs before your front door is being unlocked and opened by the spare key, making you swallow in fear, uncertainty about who is there, until sunsets’ golden hues cast a halo around Steve Harrington’s beautiful face, his form framed in your doorway. His chestnut locks are discombobulated, but those freckles are crystal clear consolations. When he drinks you in, you immediately run into his embrace, his biceps flexing to hold onto the bags in each hand, letting them go, not even seconds later, enfolding you in a cocoon of: aftershave, Eddie’s lingering cigarette smoke, cologne, and freshly washed clothing. Steve.
You bury your face in his baby blue Henley, cheek tickled by wisps of chest hair that peeks out from a few undone buttons. He begins rubbing your back, strong hands kneading that specific tension at your tailbone, a moan dipping off your lips at the muscular relief. You mewl into him, his hands cupping your cheeks as you pull away with closed eyes, head tilted back.
“There we go, honey.” He’s praising, thumbpads scraping your cheekbones, down to your jawline. “What a good-fucking-girl.”
Broken syllables are uttered from you, a diaphragm depth voicing of neglected need, staved off by hormones. Steve knows what words and phrases get your bones dusted to ash, your body a pile of goo. And through a confusing midst, you’re worried about having to turn away his implications. These kinds of sensual conversations always lead to you underneath your boyfriend, cunt stuffed full of his fat cock, tears cooling in your lash line, Eddie encouraging Steve to fuck you just a little past your limit, because that limit is heightened each time. But right at this very moment… you can’t.
You feel the shiver overtake you, and Steve holds you closely again, fingertips striking goosebumps alive along the expanse of your arms.
“Leave me with half the load out here, Harrington. And look at this? Hogging our girl, dude?” Eddie interrupts, a little winded and depositing more grocery bags in your doorway beside Steve’s feet. His repeating your earlier phrase—sans malice or biting sarcasm, it has you grinning, making Eddie help himself to wrapping his arms around you from behind.
Eddie’s spicy and earth scent, cluttered with that cigarette smoke off his fresh pack, it collides into Steve’s, rendering you into that overlapping heap of stupid slut. And your little shits, they know. It’s what has you trying to pull away, remembering your situation. Eddie knocks his knuckles beneath your shirt, caressing and massaging that same spot Steve had pinpointed. You’re whimpering, pleading. “Don’t. I can’t right now, Eds.”
And if you thought Eddie Munson couldn’t surprise you anymore in this lifetime, you’d be damned for eternity. His lips find the shell of your ear, that smirk that causes his teeth to graze your lobe. It works itself off his tongue, hot and offered. “A little blood won’t stop the fun, sweetheart.”
Your eyes widen so hard that a protesting sting takes place in the muscles. You want to bury yourself in the floor and never come out, sidestepping their holds and becoming guarded. “How do you even know?”
“Nance,” Steve answers nonchalantly, “we called her when we went back to Eds place after dropping you off.”
“Wait, what about the date?” You’re in a stammering disbelief. “You didn’t let me ruin it, please fucking tell me—“
“Babe, and I mean this in the most respectful of ways,” Eddie says as he steps forward, gripping your shoulders, “can you please stop talking for five minutes and let Harrington’s sweet mouth explain? Besides, no way we were actually gonna go on that date without you.”
Steve smirks. Your brows pinch together and you huff, giving Steve the leeway to continue, meanwhile your heart is swollen with affection at Eddie’s admission. “At first she didn’t want to tell us, saying it wasn’t her place, but then Munson over there wouldn’t quit doing that begging thing he does, and then Robin started in by telling Nance that she can��t imagine his cute puppy eyes in agony, so… yeah.”
“Really?” You snort, shaking your head at your rocker boyfriend.
“Hey! It worked though, didn’t it?” Eddie is grinning, a grin that you most definitely want to kiss. “Found out our girl’s got a case of bein’ on the rag.”
“Must you use that phrase, Eddie?” You wince, your hand resting on your lower abdomen.
Steve remembers the bags and nudges Eddie’s shoulder to help him pick them up and take them into your kitchen. You’re stealing peeks when they’re discarded onto the kitchen counter, like a kid at Christmas time. Steve places his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and using his palms to dig into that ache in your stomach, soothing it.
This guy is a fucking Adonis…
“Go ahead, baby. The stuff is for you. Well, some of it is for the big kid over there.” Steve chortles, Eddie flipping him the bird as he snatches his gummy worms from a sack.
“I don’t deserve it. I was a bitch to you guys.” You are mortified and saddened, hand pausing on the crinkling plastic.
Steve pecks your shoulder blade, pressing his cheek into the curvature of your neck. “Yeah, you were, but it’s not like you didn’t have a reason. And this stuff—total magic. An aphrodisiac to Mother Nature.”
“Nance totally told you guys what I’d need, huh?” You laugh, Steve joining in.
“We still remembered your favorites though. Lots of chocolate, Pringles, half of the gummy worms from Eddie’s bag.” At this, Eddie looks up, candy pinched between his milky white teeth. It’s endearing, really.
“Don’t forget about all the movies we hoarded from your work!” Eddie adds in. “Chick flicks galore, and lotsa horror. Maybe even a porno or two.” He sucks his sticky fingers into his mouth, letting them drop out with a pop.
Steve hums, nipping at your neck. “Let him talk me into bondage this time. He promises we’ll like it.” A kiss is seared into your skin.
You aren’t aware that you’ve began grinding back against Steve, tongue licking across your parched lips, hands shredding the bags’ handle, pupils blown as you watch Eddie, until Steve is groaning and pumping his hips into your backside, beckoning you closer. “Aw, fuck. That’s it, babygirl, rub that ass all over my cock.”
“Too m-messy.” You try, but make zero effort to stop.
“Messes are made to be cleaned, Y/N. You think we’re incapable of doing that?” Eddie is stalking closer, wedging himself between you and the counter, leaving you smashed between your guys. Eddie dips in a bend, then drags his already growing bulge over your clothed cunt. Steve is swelling against your ass, making you a simpering mess. They pass you back and forth in bumping thrusts, each matching the other, dominating your own, their mouths attaching fresh marks across each side of your neck.
You toss your hands back, pulling on two textured sets of hair. “Gotta stop. Fuck, s’ not… I can’t.”
And then they do stop. It makes all the blood rush to your head, dizzy. Eddie’s fingertip nicks your chin, tilting. “Ask us to stop then, Y/N.”
“And we will. You know we will.” Steve is speaking behind you. They share a look of love and strength.
You’re brimmed with an engulfing desire that is smothering every cell of common sense you possess. “I want. I just want…”
“You want Stevie’s cock in that messy little pussy, or mine?” Eddie kisses the corner of your mouth.
“Can’t decide. Need someone.” Oh yeah, you’re a goner.
“Think you’re lucid enough to follow us upstairs and help put some towels down, lover?” Eddie is amused, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
~*~
“That good?” Strong and thick thighs are pressed into the globes of your ass, hair tickling your flesh.
You bury your face into Steve’s freckle littered neck, muttering, legs trembling. “Mhm.”
“She’s so warm, Eds. Wait until you feel how different her pussy is like this.” His pupils are blown into a glossy black, flecks of cinnamon being all that remain of his hazel irises.
You can’t help but to tighten around Steve, legs locking around his waist, tugging him in closer as Eddie drapes himself across your chest and sucks a sensitive nipple into his mouth, cushioning his bites with those plush lips. Steve lets out this feral whimper, stifling it in your neck as he falls forward, driving himself into your overly wet pussy, the blood and arousal making it a slippery, but too easy of a glide. You’ve soaked the towel below, a fascination Eddie can’t take his eyes off of, stroking his cock in time with Steve’s rhythmic movements. That spot is hit inside of you and it’s more intense than you ever remember, making your vision black out, thigh trembling beyond your control. Eddie, patient and awaiting his turn with you, brings your mouth to his for a kiss, his tongue caressing your own in a sloppily slick push.
Saliva strings on the break-away, Eddie’s fondness of you growing. “S’ all tender and soaked inside? Gonna make me feel as good as it’s makin’ Stevie feel?”
You’re trying to nod, but it’s weak. “It’s amazing. You’re both, so fucking good. You’re everything.” You babble on.
Steve lifts his face from the cove of your jugular, licking at your sex-drenched skin. “That’s comfort, baby.”
#kristenwrites#my work#my writing#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington drabble#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x female reader#stranger things 4 fanfiction#stranger things 4#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#stranger things 4 fic#steddie x female reader#steddie x fem!reader#steddie x you#steddie x reader
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