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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Simple Math / Part 5

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Stalking. Brief mention of domestic violence. Feelings of fear, self loathing, and anxiety. Vomiting. Panic attack/comfort. Medical inaccuracies, hospital setting. A little bit of praise. Johnny is a flirt and a menace.

“Ye’re off yer head.”

“I’m not.” Johnny expects Simon to relent, to give it up, but when he doesn’t budge, something hot sizzles alive in the pit of Johnny’s stomach, desire roaring to life in his veins.

“Jus’ like that? Ye’re goin’ let me see yer bonnie face finally?” He slurs, lifting the bottle to his lips, and Simon nods.

“Only if you win."

“And if ye win?” Simon moves closer, his chest brushing against Johnny’s, balaclava covered face dipping down, noses nudging against one another’s in a tentative, teasing way.

“If I win, you’ll remove something of my choosing instead.”

Your phone is ringing.

In your sleep, you hardly recognize it, but your subconscious is well trained, and your hand seeks the source of the noise effortlessly, dragging it from the nightstand and next to your face, to squint blearily at it, awareness coming quickly when you recognize the charge nurse’s work line.

“Hello?” You clear the cobwebs of sleep from your throat.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“No, ‘s alright. What’s going on?”

“I know it’s your day off, but-“

“You’re short.” You fill in the blanks, and she huffs.

“We’ve got two out with flu like symptoms, and I’m floating another to-“

“It’s okay.” You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes. “I got you. Just give me like, an hour? I have to get ready and stuff.”

“Of course. Thanks so much, you’re a lifesaver.” You zone out for a moment, plotting out the rest of your day, and mumble something like ‘don’t worry about it’, ending the call with your thumb.

The hotel carpet is plush. It’s cushioned and soft, and it gives a little when you stand and stretch, pulling your arms over your head, twisting and turning with tired bones, shaking loose the stupor that holds your neck too straight, too tightly.

OT isn’t the worst thing in the world right now, considering you’re paying for a long term stay in a hotel, you tell yourself more than a few times as you shower and dress. You should be grateful for it. Understaffing has it’s benefits, financially.

The only wrench about coming in on your day off this week is you’re supposed to be collecting more things from your flat. Particularly, clothing. You’ve only got a short rotation of outfits, scrubs, both in short supply, and… no clean underwear. You had planned to move large chunks of your wardrobe over today, probably at least two trips worth, but will now have to settle for stopping by fairly quick to grab what you can.

It will be fine, you think, casually checking your surroundings as you step off the platform. In and out and on with your day.

You were wrong.

You see it immediately, stepping through the door. The locks are in place, handle, deadbolt, extra one at the top, but you can tell, you can feel, that someone has been in here. Your blood thickens in your veins, freezing to a stop, sluggishly propelled by your frenzied heart. You can hear it in your ears, the thunder of your panic, can feel the fear twisting itself into a sailor’s knot and holding you hostage.

Your feeling is confirmed, rationalized, when you push your bedroom door ajar and see the carnage of what’s been left behind on top of your bed.

Shredded panties.

The entire underwear drawer has been spilled out across your sheets, lace and cotton and silk all ripped to pieces, torn edges clearly made by hands, not knives, not scissors, but the personal touch of fingers, of fists.

Your breath catches in your chest, oxygen in the room falling away, leaving you panting, gasping for your next inhale as you cautiously pick up a pair close to you. They’re grey cotton boy shorts, and your stomach flips up into your throat when they stand as stiff as a board, some sort of dried substance splattered across them, rendering the fabric firm and inflexible.

Not… not just some dried substance… you realize in horror, scanning the pile of panties, noticing the stains on most of them, a milky white color shining against black silk.

You can’t breathe. You stumble away, back slamming into your dresser, sinking down onto the floor, hands covering your ears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

This is sick, even for him. An escalation of disturbing behavior that sends a chill down your spine, frightening you even more than you already were. You knew he’d get in, hoped he would buy your carefully crafted lie: the appearance of you still living there… but to act so brazenly, to do something like… this.

Does he know, does he realize, you’re not actually living in the flat now?

He’s really going to kill you this time.

You race to the toilet, heaving yourself over the seat as your breakfast rushes past your lips, a cup of coffee and half eaten muffin accentuated by the sting of bile, and you gag, spitting and hacking until you’re finished, flushing it all away.

You don’t look at the girl in the mirror. You don’t want to see her. Don’t want to tell her all the ways you’re letting her down. She thinks you’re smarter than this, stronger. Braver. She believes you’ve done it once before, you’ve escaped, you’ve hid, and you can do it again.

She doesn’t know you’re not sure you have the heart for it now. She doesn’t realize you’re tired, you’re afraid. She doesn’t understand that you like the life you’ve made, that running is exhausting, that sometimes, in the very darkest corners of your mind, you think that letting him win might be easiest.

So, you don’t look at her. You mourn your pile of panties for a too long second and lock the apartment up tight.

Get it together. Get yourself together.

You coach yourself the entire way to work, trying to ignore the rubbing and bunching of your scrub pants, an unfortunate consequence of being forced to go commando.

Deep breath. You can do this.

You still have your sanctuary.

You had hoped, for a miniscule moment, that your day might improve once you step foot in the hospital, and you pushed away the inkling that suggested that optimism may be linked the fact that you’ll get to see Simon and Johnny, opting not to even acknowledge the strange sensations swirling about inside your heart whenever you think about the other day. The day when the world stood still and Johnny touched your hand so gently, stroking his fingers over your skin, or when the elevator doors parted to reveal Simon and their baby, a sweet baby girl safe in his arms, his eyes alight and adoring, your knees almost giving out at the sight.

Needless to say, you’re eager to badge in.

The day is quickly derailed, when within a half an hour of getting settled into your routine, an alarm goes off for two sixty-eight: thirty-nine degrees.

Your mind immediately somersaults to the pain in his upper right quadrant from your last shift, logical thought leaping all around as you jog down the hall.

You notated it. You passed it on in shift report. It’s only thirty-nine. You did everything right. No one here would just disregard something like that. Deep breath.

Still…

Bile leak. Abscess. Infection. Or worse… hepatic artery pseudoaneurysm, hemorrhaging. Big things that could lead to worse things, worse outcomes, worse-

The door comes up quicker than you realize, and without hesitating, you slip inside.

“Hi.” You’re a little breathless, and Simon’s eyes snap to yours, taking you in, studying from head to toe, brow knitted together. Johnny’s asleep, and you’re not sure if that makes you feel better, or worse.

“Everything alright?” Of course. He’s too perceptive. Get control of yourself, it could be nothing.

“Yeah, I ah… have to draw some blood.” You really do not want to wake your patient, or alarm Simon, but you refuse to lie. You fire off a text to the attending on call, advising him of Johnny’s temperature and reminding him of the upper right quadrant pain, letting him know he can expect labs as soon as you get them downstairs. You give Simon a nod, turning to slide the draw open quietly, pulling out everything you’ll need. His gaze burns a hole in your scrubs, the ever-present scrutiny impossible to escape, and sometimes you wonder if he’s reading your mind.

“What’s wrong? He just fell asleep, Pen was here all morning, tired him out.” His protest is husky, and you think he’s frowning behind the mask. You imagine a strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation; wide jaw gnashed tight with worry.

“He’s running just a bit of a fever.” He jolts, and you shake your head, hoping to soothe his fear. “It’s not too high. I’m not super worried, but we’ll need to check his white cell count, just in case, okay? And then we’ll go from there.” He nods.

“You said this could happen.” You smile. It feels unsteady, but you hope he can’t tell.

“I did. I promised, that if there was something to panic about, I would tell you. We’re not there yet.” It’s not a lie. Your wild spiral from a few minutes ago was an extreme, not reality, and you need to keep your head on.

“Okay.”

“Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what’s going on.” Simon shifts uncomfortably, and you carefully squeeze Johnny's arm, wrapping him with the tie and swabbing the inside of his elbow as fast as possible.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he realizes you’re leaning over him, and his gaze darts to Simon before landing back on you. “There’s our bunny.” He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction, and Simon coughs. Loudly. Bunny?

“Such a flirt, MacTavish.” You playfully chastise him, relieved he’s feeling like himself. “I just need to get some blood and then I’ll leave you in peace to sleep.” He shrugs, but Simon rubs a thumb against his thigh in tiny little circles, too fast to be considered comfort, and Johnny clucks. “Ah, come on Si.”

“You’re runnin’ a fever, Johnny.”

“Ach. ‘s nothing.” He brushes it off, but his eyes are slow to track Simon’s movements, and you casually sneak a peek at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

“Could be.” You assure him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder and taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

The labs are inconclusive. The attending hems and haws before finally asking you to schedule a stat ultrasound of his abdomen, and you manage to bump him to the front of the queue, pulling a few strings here and there by rattling off some bullshit about being higher priority.

In the time it takes for the tech to get to two sixty-eight with the machine, you get a new admission. Intubated, but awake, and getting them and their family squared away takes longer than you would have liked, the patient’s middle-aged husband a wreck of nerves and worry, the kind of anxiety that makes you sit with him in the room for a little while, patting his hand and promising that you’ll be there for them, every step of the way.

By the time you step out of that room, it’s been nearly an hour. You catch a glimpse of Simon in the chairs outside two sixty-eight, and you throw him one of your best work smiles, hoping to reassure him, soothe his nerves. You want to go to him, want to sit beside him and talk him through everything, the outcomes, the possibilities, but you still need to add the notes for your new admit, and-

Someone catches your eye from the end of the hall. It’s a man, white, with brown hair, in regular clothes, and he stands taller than the others around him, shoulders rolled back just- just like-

No. You force yourself to look, to truly see him, taking in his facial features, the slope of his nose, and it’s hardly a second before you’re realizing it’s not who you thought it was. It’s not him.

The second doesn’t matter to your heart. It’s already racing, tripling it’s steady pace inside your chest. You’re shaking, trembling in the middle of the hall, frantically looking for the nearest closet, or empty room, or…

Stairwell. There’s a stairwell just beyond where Simon is anxiously waiting, and you beeline to it, nearly tripping over your own feet past him. You think you hear your name being called, but the blood rushing in your ears is too loud, and you can’t be sure. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is getting away. Hiding. Not letting yourself be noticed.

You take the first flight down, stopping on the landing to rest your face against the polished, cold wall, desperately trying to fill your lungs with air, encouraging yourself to breathe.

It wasn’t him. You’re safe.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Your fingers dig into your hips, squeezing through the numbness, through the overwhelming feeling of your impending doom, and your head swims, lightheadedness nearly knocking you off balance.

“It wasn’t him.” You whisper aloud. “It’s not him. You’re safe. Get it together.” You chant, eyes clenched tight. Your heart is still pounding, no sign of relenting, and your lungs burn, screaming inside you, desperate for air. The feeling of suffocating, of dying, grows stronger, gaining momentum, and your eyes slam shut, your mind and body locked in a tomb of panic and fear.

You hear your name again. It’s sharper, authoritative, but you can’t open your eyes, too overwhelmed to even make sense of it. Deep breath, just breathe.

Something touches your shoulder. It’s unexpected, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register it as gentle, but you’re too far gone, too far buried beneath your fear and your panic and your shame. It triggers you into a defensive posture, and you flinch so hard you jostle yourself into the wall, turning into the corner, hands out in front of your face.

“Hey, hey.” It’s Simon. Simon is standing in the stairwell with you, palms open, concern heavy in his eyes, and you vaguely realize he’s talking, soft, deep words washing over you. “-to breathe?” He comes closer, only half a step, but it’s enough to startle you back into the corner, and he stops short. “It’s alright. I’m not going to touch you.” He soothes, and you recognize the pitch, the calm, affectionate tone from Johnny’s bedside. Sour nausea surges in your stomach, and your lungs fight the invisible hand that tightens around them. “Can you take a deep breath?” You shake your head, and he huffs a soft chuckle. “You can do it, just try. Through your nose, like this.” His chest expands, eye contact never breaking, and you try to follow suit, getting halfway before your head spins, vision tunneling. “You’re alright.”

You’re not alright. None of this is alright. You’re having a panic attack, in the stairwell at your job, in front of a patient’s partner.

You can’t speak, so you shake your head instead. No.

“Yes, you are.” He assures. “Everything’s okay. Focus on your breathing. Try another one for me.” His hand covers his heart, and you focus on the way it ebbs and flows with the movement of his diaphragm, the pace of his breaths.

You manage to get one full inhale and exhale. And then you get another. Then a third, a fourth, until it’s coming easier, and your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy.

“Good job, that’s it.” Your fingers twist together, the grating noise of your jagged breathing smoothing out even more, and Simon nods encouragingly. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Nice and slow.” Sweetheart. The word is bright, boundless and sweet as honey, the sentiment settling in your belly and growing warm. The two of you stand there, just breathing, staring at one another, for what feels like an eternity, until you find the strength to summon words.

“I-I’m sorry.” You finally choke once you’ve got a better handle on yourself, hands going lax at your thighs.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” You’re about to brush it off, thorny lies starting to form in your mind, excuses and carefully crafted explanations fusing together when your work phone beeps, the low frequency different from the ones related to patient care. Shit. Already? Simon’s glances at it in your pocket and cocks his head.

“End of my shift.” You explain, moving towards the stairs, your hand trembling on the button to silence the alarm. The muscles in his neck flex, molars grinding together.

“Still feeling a little shaky?” He observes, and you look down to your feet, mortification crawling up your spine, blooming across your cheeks through heated blood vessels.

“Um…”

“Would you mind, maybe sitting with Johnny for a bit?” You do still have notes to do. “If his test is done? I have to run home, help the Prices' put Penny down. She’s been a bit fickle, lately. Missin’ her Da.” He rubs the back of his neck, chest flexing inside the charcoal grey hoodie, and for a weird, too long second, you wonder what it might be like to fall asleep there, or just close your eyes for a minute, even though it's something sweet and far away, unobtainable in every facet. Simon says your name, jogging your attention, and then takes the first step, partially turning like he wants to reach for you, but thinks better of it.

“Uh. Yeah, I… I can.”

You badge out and grab your stuff, keeping your tablet so you can complete your notes while you sit with Johnny. You’ve already checked his results, and when you slip inside the room, the attending is updating them, explaining how he has a very small bile leak, and will need an endoscopic procedure tomorrow morning.

The attending excuses himself, giving you a quick nod, and then Simon leans down, knocking their foreheads together tenderly.

“Keep an eye on him, I hear he likes to make trouble.” Johnny smiles, pink-red color creeping up his neck into his cheeks, and Simon seems like he’s smiling, before he turns serious. “Behave. I won’t be too long.”

“I always behave.” He pats the side of the bed, beckoning you, and you shake your head, plopping down in the recliner to his right.

“I hear ye’re keepin’ me company, pretty girl?”

“I am. Got some notes to finish, heard this chair was pretty comfortable.” You quip back easily, and it feels natural, to be joking and laughing, to be hiding again.

“Well, I’ll try not to distract ye then.”

Your tablet clicks dark with a satisfying shutter, and when you place it face down, Johnny gives you one of his stupidly handsome smiles. “All finished?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” His phone vibrates against the tabletop, and with his good hand, he opens the message, turning it to show you the screen. It’s a picture of Penny, half asleep against Simon, clad in a pink onesie covered in little ducks. Her cheek is squished against him, long baby lashes fluttering on her skin. “She’s so cute.” You say, and he nods, flushed with pride. You glance at the contact name, Lou, and before you can stop yourself, a question bursts out: “Who’s Lou?”

“Our captain’s wife. She’s been helpin’ a lot, with Pen. Which is great, they’re getting a lot of girl time.”

“Your captain?”

“Aye.”

“Is that…” you want to ask but trail off. You don’t want to admit that you’ve heard gossip about them.

“Military. Simon an’ I work together, in a task force.” A task force. A task force sounds eerily close to special ops, and your nausea comes back with a vengeance.

“What… what kind of task force?”

“Global ops. Anti-terrorism, domestic threats, the lot. How I ended up here, with ye.” The image of your ex looms, his body tense in his gear, or the memory of his boots, sitting shiny by the door, one of them pulling back, swinging towards your stomach. “Bun?” Bun?

“Huh?” you blink. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out there for a second.”

“That’s alright. Simon said ye had a bit of a scare earlier?”

“No I uh, just couldn’t catch my breath, but I was fine. It was fine.” You deflect, moving on as quick as you can manage. “Did you call me bun? And… didn’t you call me bunny, earlier?” He gives you a sheepish look.

“Aye. Is our nickname for ye.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Well… ye look a bit like a bunny, and ye had that sticker the other day that Penny noticed.” Your face heats. “I know ye’re probably real soft like a bun, too.” Real soft? Is he… does he mean- your eyes widen, and he smirks.

“Johnny.” You flounder, helplessly, confused by his attention, this flirtation that seems to have grown into real affection, and he shifts slightly, leaning forward, reaching for your hand.

“Ye dinnae need to be afraid.” He coos. The words are a moon above a tide, pulling and reaching, dragging the swell of the waves higher and higher, until they threaten to pull you under, overwhelm you and drown you.

“I…” I don’t understand? I thought you were gay? I don’t know what is happening here? Johnny grimaces, and you immediately forget about the conversation and leap into action, jumping to your feet. “What is it? Where’s your pain?” Your hands hover over his belly, and he points to where his liver currently sits, slowly leaking inside his body, spilling bile that could eventually kill him if it hadn’t been caught. You pull down the blanket, unsnapping his gown to push it aside, checking for anything physically observable, site swelling, a rash, anything. “Does this hurt?” You cautiously press down, tapping slightly, watching his face for a reaction.

“No.” he says, and when you reach over to his other side, turning to watch his facial expressions, he moves with you, barely leaning, chin pointed in your direction.

His face is suddenly incredibly close to your face. And he looks… so handsome. So pretty, with his bright blue eyes and perfect bones, soft lips that part with an inhale. He dazzles you. Distracts you.

This is your patient, get it together. You’re a professional, act like it.

“Does that hurt?” You croak, and his lips quirk into a half smile, a warm palm gliding over the small of your back.

“It doesnae hurt, bun.” He winks.

“Oh my god, were you faking?” You try to stand up, but the pressure on your spine is firm, and he chuckles.

“Can I tell ye a secret?” He’s fully serious now, question whispered just above your ear, and you nod.

“Of course.”

“Ye’v been drivin’ me mad today, pretty girl. Walkin’ around here wit’ no panties on.” Oh. Oh… my god. You shoot upwards, hand covering your mouth in shock, and he laughs, raising an eyebrow before his gaze drifts over the curve of your hip.

“Johnny!” you hiss, scandalized, and then guilt hits you like a train, like two tons of rocks have been dropped on top of you. Simon. “Johnny, you… you and Simon, you’re-“

“We’re lucky ye’ve come into our lives.” He finishes, and you frown, confused. “We think ye’re really special.” We. We?

“What did I miss?” Simon says from the doorway, and you jerk, stepping back like Johnny’s bed is on fire and you’ve just been burnt, eyes wide and wild. You feel like a child, caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but Simon doesn’t look angry. Just curious.

“Jus’ talking.” Johnny replies, and he starts to lower his bed, watching you with heavy eyes.

“Well. I should get going. I’ve got a few trains to make.” You glance at the clock, and then give them both a polite smile. Simon crosses his arms.

“Looks like you tired him out.” He comments, and they glance at one another, some sort of communication happening silently before he shrugs. “Let me drive you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. It’s not… you just got back, and I’m fine, really. It’s not that far, I-“

“If it’s not that far, let him drive ye.” Johnny pipes up, and Simon piles on easily.

"He's not going to let this go, and neither am I. Let me get you home safely, please." You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. "It's the least we can do." Your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s just a ride. It’s not crossing a line.

“Okay, then.” Johnny smiles, and Simon moves to his side, brushing his mask covered mouth against his forehead.

“She go down okay?” Johnny murmurs, tenderly cupping his cheek.

“Like a champ. Promised I’d bring her tomorrow morning. Think she understood me.”

“Aye. She’s smarter than ye, so probably.” He teases, and they share a lighthearted laugh before Johnny’s bidding you a goodbye, and Simon directs you out the door.

“Uh, right here is fine.” You point to the curb, and Simon slows the car to a stop, turning to face you with that ever-present scrutiny, brows shoved down above his eyes.

“A hotel?” You swallow.

“My um, my flat is being renovated. It’s a whole thing so I just figured I wo-would stay somewhere else.” You want to flee, run out of this car and away from him, but he holds you in place so easily with just his eyes, so you sit there, frozen, one hand on the door handle, the other splayed against your thigh.

“Is everything alright? Earlier-“

“I’m fine.” You rush out, cutting him off. It’s well practiced, the denial, the avoidance, these things that you normally excel out.

But nothing is normal with them.

He cocks his head, and then nods, and you breathe a little easier, turning to push the door open.

“Wait.” A hand tugs at you, thick, warm fingers lightly touching your wrist, and you whip back around to face him, eyes wide. “If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Oh, I uh… I’m fine, I don’t need-“

“That doesn’t work on me. Johnny either, pretty girl.” He tells you, and it’s so firm, so strong backed, that your mouth goes dry, and you gape at him. What? What doesn’t work? Is he… is he saying he doesn’t buy it? Doesn’t believe you? He’s reading your mind, subtly raising an eyebrow, and then nodding. “Put my number in your phone.” He instructs, and like a robot, like a vampire’s Thrall, you pull it from your bag, swiping open the contact list and pressing each number in the order he gives it. “We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks once you’re finished, and you mumble a shaky yes, finally pushing the door open, and climbing out.

“Alright, well. Good night.” You bend at the waist, giving him a wave through the window, and his jaw moves beneath the mask, shifting to the side, eyes squinting at the corners. He's smiling.

“Good night, bunny.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost

1K notes · View notes

kissitbttr · 4 months

Note

What happens if reader and Miguel get into another fight (it could be their first or second or anything really, whatever you prefer!) and it was like…bad. REALLYYY bad, like it effected reader mentally and physically. So they just leave and don’t come back.

I’m not sure if your comfortable with angst with no comfort but if you are can you do that?? And don’t forget to take your time!!

baby, i hope this is angsty enough.

Miguel and his architect!wife having their first argument

—

She knows not to ever pushes Miguel’s buttons. Especially when he has been working himself under pressure. But that’s the thing, she never wanted him to feel stressed or see the look of exhaustion across his face because it breaks her heart.

Her love language is taking care of him. Always. They both made a vow to always be there for one another and she’s never been the one to break a promise. So does Miguel.

Yet it seems that the past two weeks have somehow… changed.

He becomes distant. Colder. She notices how he keeps dodging her touch. Brushing her off with his hand while grunting a ‘i’m busy. later’ when she wants him to join her in bed. And it truly makes her heart torn because he had never been like this. He’s always so affectionate, if not clingier even. So what happened?

“Miguel? Baby, you need to rest. You’ve been dwelling in those paperworks for hours. Come on, my love” She smiles softly as she steps into his working office, tugging her silky robe closer against her body,

No response. His eyes only focuses on the scattered papers below him. Fingers furiously typing away on his computer.

She pretends not to be hurt when he chooses to ignore her. Bare feet finding themselves walking closer to his desk, she crouches down slightly to meet up with his eye level,

“Mig—“

“Not now, cariño . Go to bed”

His voice harsh. Whether he means it or not, it still makes her sad.

“I can’t” She frowns. “I want us to go to bed together. We haven’t done that in a long time and tomorrow is Saturday. Our day. Please?”

Miguel exhales heavily, removing his glasses before chucking it on the table. He straightens his posture, arms crossed over his chest as he shoots her a look.

A look that she had never seen before being directed towards his wife. One that she almost jumped out of fear.

“You do realize that i’m working right now? That me” He points at himself, voice growing harsher by the second. “Miguel O’Hara. Doesn’t need a break. He needs to work! And he would appreciate it if his wife stop being a fucking nag!”

That one cuts too deep. But she’s raised to always stand on her ground. To stand up to any man who ever tries to done her wrong. And that includes her own husband.

Despite how much that hurt.

“A nag?!” She asks in disbelief. “I’m being a nag because i care about my husband’s wellbeing?”

He chuckles. But she finds no humor in it. Empty. Just like his eyes.

“And i cooked for you” her voice lowers, gulping as she wraps her arms around herself. “Made you that carribean dish that you love so much, yet you didn’t even touch it. I even walked to the bakery and bought a blueberry pie. Sofia misses her daddy too, you know that?”

She hopes the mention of their daughter would eventually help his emotions decrease but somehow, his expression remains the same. And it only hurts her more, what he chooses to say next.

“I didn’t ask you to do that. And stop bringing Sofia into this as if it would help me change my mind. It won’t” He crosses his arms. He sure doesn’t mean it. Of course, he doesn’t. But he’s got a lot of things on his mind and he needs to take care of them now.

“What is going on with you?” She asks, both concerned and upset. “You have been acting like a complete different person lately! Avoiding me like a damn plague!”

“I do not need this right now, Y/N. Go!” He yells

But she won’t back down. Hard headed as always. “No! Because i need you to close that fucking computer down, tell Lyla that you’ll work on it later and come back to bed! It’s almost eleven!”

“Fuck!” He roars, slamming his fists against the table making you jump. “It always has to be an argument with you isn’t it?! ‘Miguel this, Miguel that. Miguel come back to bed, i’m fucking clingy and i need you right now!’” He mocks her, earning a very frightened look on her face but he pays no mind to it,

“Dana was never like this with me” He grumbles, mentioning his ex girlfriend’s name. “She knew her boundaries and let me do my fucking job. Definitely didn’t fucking nag me like what you are doing now. You’re making me regret my choices now”

And it hurts. Real bad. Because all of the time they had spent together before this argument, he always reassured her that she is the one for him. That no woman had ever came close to steal his heart and make him feel the way she does. Not Xina, Tempest or even Dana. Miguel may had the longest history with Dana but none of it matters because he has her.

Now? She doesn’t know what to believe right now.

She’s heartbroken. Face falling and her shoulders slump in defeat. The tears begin to form in her eyes but she has to stay in her ground to not let him see. It’s not like he cared anyway, he’s too busy buried in anger than to actually see she’s hurting.

“I can’t believe you just said that” Her voice is weak and shaky. Hands frozen on the either side, hands clenching and she feels her nails digging into the skin of her palms.

At the sound of his wife’s broken voice is what finally puts Miguel into a realization. The words he had just said to her, spewing those bullshit in front of her face. The look of hurt flashes across her beautiful face. It feels illegal to see her not smiling because of him.

Oh my God, what has he done?

“Cariño, I—“

She shakes her head, a broken sob falling from her lips, clamping her mouth shut. Miguel carefully walks around his desk to reach out to her, eyes filled with its own sadness but it only makes her step back making his heart break.

He had never felt more disappointed in himself than right now,

“Baby, please.. I-i didn’t—“

The sound of Sofia’s cries suddenly stops him. Probably awaken because of her dad’s sudden loud voice from when he yelled at her mother,

His wife breathes out a shaky sigh, running her hands through her soft dark hair with eyes shutting in frustration. She feels like she’s ready to explode at any moment. And Miguel contemplates whether or not he should try to comfort her. But by the looks of it, she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Her eyes snap open. And for the first time, she looks at him with disappointment and anger. He searches for the love in those beautiful irises but find none. That’s when he knows, he had completely fucked everything.

“I’m fucking done with you, Miguel. Fuck you.” Her last words go straight to take a jab at his heart, before she turns on her heels to comfort their loving daughter in her room.

Miguel once couldn’t believe that he had everything. A home. A beautiful wife. A daughter. Second chances were given to him and he sworn to himself that he will do his very best to protect them all.

But now?

He might just lose everything he had built

—

if i were to write a part two, there’s going to be a slight change from ur request nonny if u don’t mind xx

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara x reader

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holylulusworld · 4 months

Text

Romanian Kiss

Summary: Your fiancè leaves you for someone else. You try to get him back and meet a grumpy taxi driver.

Pairing: Taxi Driver!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: cheating (not Bucky), angst, heartbreak, meet cute, fluff, bad Romanian

A/N: This story was inspired by the movie "French Kiss" but takes place in Romania (Bucharest).

A/N2: I'm deep down the Bucky rabbit hole again so bear with me...

Words: 1,4k

He left you. He went to Romania for an important convention.

Suddenly he didn’t call you back.

But he left a message, telling you he found the love of his life.

Love of his life? Not a week ago, he promised you forever, and suddenly, another woman took your place. One he met two days ago.

You had no choice but to catch the next plane and hit Romania to find John and win him over again. He can’t just throw three and a half years of a relationship out of the window because he met some girl half his age.

So, this is how you ended up in the cab of the grumpiest guy you ever met. He pretended to not understand your language and grumbled under his breath the whole way to the next hotel.

“Sir,” you sighed as he didn’t react. “Can you tell me where the convention is? My fiancé is there,” you tried again. “I know you understand me. Please, I need to find him. He left and met that girl. I—he can’t just throw our life together away.”

“Miss,” he suddenly said, “stop talking so much. Maybe that’s why he left you. I’ll drive you to the hotel, but I’m not a city guide.”

“Whoa, I thought European taxi drivers were nicer than the ones in New York City,” you huffed and looked out of the window.

“Maybe you should head back then and leave Romania alone,” he snapped at you and slammed his hands onto the steering wheel.

You bit the inside of your cheek. His words haunted you like an unwanted truth. Hot tears wanted to spring free. John leaving you. The stranger taunting you. Your hopeless situation. Torn between wanting John back and running away.

All damns broke when he grunted at you and accused you of being an annoying woman. You sniffled and the tears finally fell.

You couldn’t stop. He had to stop the car and talk to you. He opened the door and sat next to you in the backseat. “If you stop crying, I’ll drive you anywhere you want to.”

He told you his name, an odd one. Bucky. At first, you believed he lied and tried to make fun of you; but it was his real name. He talked and talked to make you calm down. While you tried to stop the tears from falling, he murmured words you didn’t understand.

He called you păpuşă and prinţesă. His words calmed you, and you allowed Bucky to hold your hand while you told this stranger about your past, and the love you just lost.

You believed him when he told you that he’d help you find John. He had no reason to help you, but he did.

For the next few days, Bucky drove you around town. He showed Bucharest, the most important places, and helped you stalk your fiancé and his new girl.

He even let you cry in his chest when you watched John meet the girl’s parents after knowing her for a few days. And the worst was, she wore a diamond ring, making your chest tighten.

“The convention is held in this building,” he said and pointed at the luxurious building. “Do you want to go inside and find out if your fiancé is in there?”

“I don’t know,” you said and meant it. If you met your fiancé right at that moment, you didn’t know what to say. “What if she’s prettier than me, or smarter…or younger.”

“Doll,” he placed his hand on your shoulder, “if you don’t talk to him, you’ll never know. If you want me to, I’ll drive you back to your hotel and you can fly back home and forget about him.”

“No, you’re right. I should talk to him but,” you sighed and looked down at your body. “Jeans and t-shirts won’t make him see me in a different light, don’t you think?”

“If you want me to,” he cupped your face and looked you deep in the eyes, “I’ll turn you into a maneater stealing his heart and mind.”

“You look stunning,” he said, watching you walk out of the bathroom of your suite. “I mean…wow.” Bucky eyed you up and down.

“I,” you shook your head. The dress felt like a second skin, but you felt like it was suffocating you. The heels were too high and the make-up too much for your liking.

In other words – this wasn’t you. But if wearing a short and figure-hugging dress, too much make-up, and heels makes John fall for you again, so be it.

“Go ahead, doll,” Bucky said and gently nudged you toward the entrance of the fancy restaurant. All you had to do was walk inside, pass John’s table by, and sit at the table Bucky reserved for you. He’d take care of the new girl by your fiancé’s side and distract her long enough for John to fall for you again. “He will love you.”

You took a deep breath and got the show on the road. While walking inside the restaurant, you held your head high and didn’t look at anyone. Including John.

For a second, you heard him gasp when you walked past his table, but you resisted the urge to turn your head to look his way.

You used the few words you learned in Romanian from Bucky to order water and food. The whole time you didn’t look at John’s table, always busy talking to the waiter, checking your phone, or reading the tourist guide Bucky bought for you.

“Y/N?” You only looked up when John was standing right in front of your table. He looked surprised and a little scared. “What are you doing here?”

“John?” You acted surprised too. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you about the convention, didn’t I?” He cocked his head to look you up and down. His eyes trained on your chest he murmured your name when you acted like you forgot about him, the convention, and the fact that he left you for some other girl.

“Oh, that was in Romania. I can’t remember, sorry. With all the things going on in my life, the cancellation of our wedding and buying a new apartment I forgot about you.”

He sat down and puffed his chest. John tried, just like he did before he asked you out on a date for the first time, to impress you. You smiled and let his compliments and charm wash over you.

John and you dined together, and it almost felt like back then. And when he asked you to join him in his hotel room, you didn’t hesitate to follow him.

A few days ago, you would’ve happily given in to his advances. A few hours ago, you dreamed of being with him again.

But at that moment, all you could think about was the guy you ran into while chasing your unfaithful fiancé.

His lips didn’t feel perfect against yours any longer, and the weight on top of yours didn’t make you feel how you should.

“No, stop,“ you pushed him off you. “This isn’t right.”

“Baby, it’s right. I was a fool,” you whimpered at his words.

“I came here to hunt you down and win you over again but..” You got off the bed and grabbed your dress. “Not a few hours ago you wanted to marry that woman. Tonight, you believe I’m some sexy wonder woman but in the morning, I’m still the same woman I used to be.”

He tried to stop you, but you shook your head. “Please give me another chance. I was blinded by lust and—” He trailed off. “Maybe I was scared of the future and getting married.”

“You weren’t scared of marrying that woman you barely knew,” you cocked your head and gave him a sad smile. “Just tell me the truth. You’re not made for normalcy and me.” You bitterly admitted. “I’m not exciting and wild. Only the reliable and boring woman you easily forgot about the moment you met someone else.”

“You did what?” Bucky threw his hands up as you ran to him after you turned John down. “Why? I mean…all the effort and you let him off the hook?”

“It didn’t feel right,” you murmured and dropped your gaze.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You asked.

“Why did you turn him down,” he stepped closer to gently cup your face. “Tell me why, prinţesă.”

“I can’t…”

“Why?” He softly asked. “Doll?”

“I’m scared.”

“Tell me,” Bucky leaned closer to whisper against your lips. “Please.”

“Te iubesc,“ you whispered.

“I love you too,” he pressed his lips to yours and wrapped his arms around you. Right at that moment, you forgot about John and your past together. All that counted was Bucky holding you in his arms.

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #female reader #fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #Romanian Kiss #beefy bucky

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sanakiras · 5 months

Text

TREAT YOU BETTER

PAIRING — lee chan x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 3.7k

SYNOPSIS — your boyfriend of five months has been treating you like hell, and one of your closest friends, lee chan, refuses to let it go on any longer, taking matters into his own hands.

TAGS — college au, best friends to lovers, cheating, explicit sexual content, mutual pining, mentions of reader struggling with low self-esteem, cheesy stuff, yes i did come up with this after accidentally listening to treat you better by shawn mendes, this didn’t turn out as good i hoped it would but oh well!

NOTE — first fic here. he looks so good in the wait m/v so i wanted to write something for him :D my beloved

the slam of the door behind you rings through your ears. you try to wipe your cheeks dry, hoping you don’t look like the tearful mess you are.

your voice feels raw from yelling for the past hour or so. it’s been going like this for the past two months at least twice a week, and you’re exhausted because of it.

as the rain pours, you notice the familiar car driving towards you, bright lights feeling heavy on your eyes. you open the door without hesitation to let yourself sink into the passenger’s seat, taking a few deep breaths, all without looking at the driver.

but the quiet sobs escaping you are enough to give it away.

chan has his one arm leaning on top of the steering wheel, the other gently touching your shoulder to make you look at him, but you refuse.

“i’m fine,” you stutter out, sniffing from the cold, “really.”

of course you’re not fine. both of you are more than aware of the toxicity of the situation. you getting into arguments with your boyfriend several times a week, resulting in you calling chan and staying over at his apartment for a night, only to hear you make it up to the guy the next day when you weren’t even in the wrong to begin with.

“we have a different definition of that, then.”

“it was just an argument. we’ll work it out in a couple hours.”

“it’s not normal.” he says, trying to get it through your thick skull without raising his voice. “it’s not normal, baby.”

you sniff, trying to somehow get rid of the pain beating against your forehead. “he can be so mean, and then… then he’s so sweet again.”

chan wants to rip his hair out of his head. five fucking months of this have passed at this point, and he doesn’t know how much more of it he can take. he’s not sure how to handle the situation the right way, either.

he’s been in love with you for years. years. since sophomore year in high school. it was never his intention to fall in love with you, nor did he think he would, but he did, and god did he fall hard. embarrassingly hard.

nevertheless, he was always too afraid to make a move. too afraid that you’d reject him and he’d be out of your life forever like he was never there in the first place.

but he’s grown up now. third year of university, twenty-two years old, longer hair, a leather jacket and a solid bunch of experiences. some great, some he’d rather forget.

and so five months ago, he’d finally mustered the courage. he was finally going to own up to his feelings and tell you the truth.

only for you to excitedly come up to him, telling him you’re seeing this guy. and it made his heart sink in his chest, but he pushed his feelings to the side for your happiness.

or so he tried.

your boyfriend treats you like shit. he was sweet in the beginning — they always are.

then the cracks in the façade started to show.

it’s not that you don’t see it. you do — but it’s difficult to leave when someone knows just how to keep you where they want you. every time you tell yourself you’re gonna break up with him, he sweet-talks you and says things can be fixed, and that going through a rough patch is normal.

but chan knows better.

he just needs you to know better as well.

it breaks his heart to see his favorite person let herself get hurt like this. he becomes a little more torn with every sob leaving your body, every tear spilling from your eyes.

he gently puts the buds of his fingertips on your chin and jaw, slowly turning your face to him so he can look you in the eye.

the tears are still quietly running down your cheeks, your face numb, now devoid of any emotion, ashamed to have him see you in this state.

“you’re killing yourself like this.” he whispers, voice laced with concern. “he’ll never make you happy.”

you sniff from your breakdown. “maybe it’s me. maybe i just need to stop giving him such a hard time—”

“don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

“please, chan, just… just go and get me somewhere else. all i need is some breathing space — please.” you beg him.

he wants to scream, wants to tell you to break up with him for good, wants to walk into that damn house and do it himself — but he can’t.

instead, he obliges, driving you to his place.

his cozy one-person apartment feels like the best place in the world to you — the one place where you can get away from everything else.

you watch chan as he locks the door behind him, then leaning against it for a moment as he watches you sit on the armrest of the soft chair. “you okay? want some tea?”

the corners of your lips curl up at the suggestion. he knows you awfully well. “that’d be great.”

his lashes flutter before he nods, kicking his shoes off by the door.

once he’s busy in the kitchen, you bite your lip as you recall the way he softly talked to you in the car, eyes trailing past the curves of his arms and the sharpness of his jawline.

he’s dated more than you have. not much in high school, but definitely during the past three years he’s spent at college. though it doesn’t surprise you. he has such warmth to him, with the beautifully infectious sound of his laughter, that big smile and some of the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen.

it wasn’t until recently you began to see him in a different light. whenever you saw him with a new girl, arm around her waist or over her shoulders, you secretly imagined yourself next to him more than once. you can’t believe you didn’t take notice of how handsome he was before.

but you’re too much of a coward to tread over that line of friendship, too much of a coward to see if maybe, just maybe, your feelings are requited.

“wanna stay here for a while?” he asks, hoping you’ll at least spend the night here before you go back to your boyfriend, as you’ve done countless times before.

“yeah. don’t feel like going back yet.” you smile, trying to somewhat make light of the situation.

“then don’t.”

you sigh at his response. “it’s not that easy.”

“why not?”

“because i don’t wanna throw something away the second things get hard.”

“there’s a difference between hard and unbearable. your case is the latter.”

feeling backed into a corner, even though he hardly means to do so, you turn the topic on him. “you’ve had some rough experiences with past girlfriends too and you stuck around.”

god. if only you knew he ended up leaving them because he never enjoyed being with them as much as he enjoyed being with you. “you’d be surprised.” he mutters under his breath, pouring two cups of tea, making yours exactly as he knows you like.

when you stay quiet, he tries to think of a way to get it through your head that you need to break up with your resident ass of a boyfriend.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“what’s it going to take for you to leave him?”

the question makes you look up before using a tone that almost sounds like you’re scolding him. “chan.”

“i’m serious. he’s treating you like shit. you call me crying every week.”

“it’s just—”

“no, it’s not ‘just a tough time’. you know it isn’t.” he interrupts, jaw clenched tight but voice controlled. he will not yell at you like that piece of trash does. “he’s a controlling, manipulative asshole. it’s not gonna get better. if anything, he’ll just treat you worse in the future.”

“yeah, well, not all of us have people lined up.”

the words have left your mouth before you can comprehend it, leaving you to lower your head in regret. not that it’s any less true. to you, anyway.

“what, and i do?”

“don’t you?”

he’s not sure what baffles him more — you thinking that he’s got girls lined up to date him or you thinking that you don’t have anyone else out there that would be willing to date you.

“what’s this really about?” he sits down on the empty coffee table, facing you directly. “what does my dating life have to do with yours?”

“nothing — it doesn’t. i never said it did.”

“then why the comment about me having people lined up? which i don’t, by the way.”

the answer sits at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say it without looking away from him. “maybe not. but at least you won’t end up alone. i can’t say the same for myself.”

and there it is. the sole reason you’re still with the guy. your crippling fear of ending up alone, your heavy insecurity that makes you believe no one could possibly want you.

the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt — but he’d rather have you suffer through your first heartbreak than end up with someone who walks all over you like a doormat.

“please don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but if you think that low of yourself, you’re a little stupid.”

the comment makes you snort. “well, it’s certainly fitting.”

he wipes some of your half-dried tears away, his one hand remaining to cup your cheek, an alarmingly intimate gesture.

“aside from the fact that there’s nothing wrong or shameful about ending up alone... i need you to know that you’re worth it. you’re gorgeous and intelligent and—” he halts for a moment, in a way confessing his love for you, not caring how cheesy it sounds, “—you deserve everything you want. ‘cause you’re one in a million.”

fuck, has he always looked at you that lovingly?

his words catch you off-guard for a moment before you press your lips together. “as much as i think it’s sweet of you to say those things, you’re only saying them ‘cause you’re my friend.” you interrupt him, having made up your mind.

after which chan shakes his head, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “i’m saying it because it’s true. any guy would be lucky to have you in his life.”

“i don’t think ‘lucky’ is the term my boyfriend would use.”

“yeah, ‘cause he’s a fucking dick.” he immediately comments, adding the next part with a softer tone. “if you were with me, i sure as shit wouldn’t be acting like that.”

that last sentence catches your attention, and chan realizes what he just said, suddenly very aware he’s treading on thin ice now.

but it had to come out one way or another.

though you seem to be going along with his words, not showing any signs of being uncomfortable with it. “and who’s to say you wouldn’t break my heart?”

he sees the intrigue on your face and decides to lean in closer. “if i broke your heart, i’d be breaking mine as well.”

“i’m not convinced.” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear, and chan feels his heartbeat quicken.

every rational thought going through his mind is thrown out of the window the moment he catches you staring at his lips. it’s enough for him to put his hand on your lower cheek and smash his lips against yours.

he kisses you like he always imagined he would. perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but he’s waited too long for this moment to care.

and you’re kissing him back.

you both get hot from adrenaline and arousal. his hands roam down your hips, but when you start pulling on the collar of his jacket, he finally has it in him to break the kiss.

“are you sure you want this? i don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“i’ve wanted this for so long, chan. take it off, please.”

maybe he should pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. you’re underneath him, lips swollen, gazing at him like he’s your whole world and more.

he leans down again to pick you up, ensuring you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist so he can carry you to his bedroom.

once he lays you down on the soft bed, you watch him take off his jacket and throw his shirt over his head, leaving him with his chest bare, elastic waistband of his underwear visible.

he’s a dancer in his spare time, but you know he’s been hitting the gym recently as well, and it’s paying off, noticing his bigger biceps and toned abs.

then he chuckles from the way you’re observing him, and that smile — that beautifully big smile is what you fell in love with.

one of many things, really.

you remove your basic long-sleeved shirt, exposing your skin before him, enjoying the way he’s looking at the black bra you’re wearing underneath.

you’re seated at the edge of the bed, at eye-level with his chest, which you kiss softly.

he follows your actions like a hawk, unable to keep his eyes off you. he proceeds to move your hair behind your shoulder, his right hand finding your jaw when he kisses you again, lips trailing down to your neck and collarbone.

his touches are slow and sensual. at the end of the day, it’s your first time together, and you both notice the pressure and tension that comes with it.

you’re both aching to touch each other more already, but it feels so much better like this.

he gently pushes you to lay on your back, hovering over you to kiss down your chest and stomach, smoothly pulling down your skirt before his fingers hook onto the fabric of your lace underwear.

“what’d you want me to do, pretty girl?” he asks while getting rid of your panties, looking you in the eye as he does it.

the nickname makes you shiver. “you can do anything you wanna do.”

“wanna eat you out. bet i’m better at it than that motherfucker.”

“not hard to beat when he never does it at all.” you mumble to yourself, but he hears it.

“are you kidding? has he ever even made you cum?”

you just give him a deadpan stare that has a hint of embarrassment to it, which is enough for him to know the answer.

just being aware of how bad that fucker treats you makes him want to prove to you that he can make you feel so, so much better. and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

he wastes no time, spreading your legs so his tongue can get to work. you shiver at the feeling of his mouth on you, biting your lower lip to not squeal already from sensitivity.

“no. none of that. i wanna be able to hear every sound you make.” he says after taking your hand away from your mouth. “you can pull on my hair if you like.”

“do you like that?”

“yeah, i enjoy a bit of pain.”

that makes you giggle a bit. “you masochist.”

to which he responds with a gentle pinch to your skin. “keep it in mind for next time, baby.”

fuck — you definitely will.

your hands run through his soft black hair. you’ve locked your legs behind his head, hips bucking up a little every time he hits a spot that feels good, his warm breath and wetness of his mouth on your pussy turning you on like crazy.

chan is pretty sure he’s descending into heaven when he hears you moan his name for the first time. he doesn’t know how many times he’s fucked his fist imagining that sound.

so he adds a finger to the warm and wet mess between your legs, sliding in easily, biting his own lip as he watches your reaction to it. you’ve got your head thrown back, one hand fisting the sheets, the other still holding his locks.

then he moves to a second, and not much later he’s got three of his fingers pumping in and out of you, arching them a little to find the right spot, rubbing and sucking on your clit.

“does that feel good?” he asks, just a bit out of breath, which is nothing compared to the writhing mess that’s you. he keeps messing with the pace, edging you a little every time, making you go crazy.

“please, channie, please let me cum—”

“i will if you answer me, baby.”

you whine, nodding at him desperately. “feels s’good, so fucking good.”

“want me to go faster?”

“please. god—need you inside me so bad.”

even he can resist so much. you’re so good for him, so he increases the pace of his fingers, relishing in the way you start squirming underneath him, trying to push him away and pull him closer all the same.

then you pull on his hair almost violently, making him moan against your pussy as you hit your first climax in a long time.

and he doesn’t stop yet — only once he sees you’ve regained focus does he pull his fingers out of you, sucking on them to savor the taste right before kissing you again, your trembling body aching for him.

he only breaks the kiss to reach for the drawer in his nightstand, grabbing a condom out of it, getting off of you to push off the last pieces of clothing still on him. the realization of the fact that your best friend is about to fuck you after god knows how long finally begins to dawn on you, and it makes your heart beat that much harder.

once he’s slipped the condom on, you move your hands to his neck and shoulders, biting your lip when you feel him push your legs behind his waist.

you gasp when he bottoms out of you for the first time. his head is buried in the crook of your neck as he finds his rhythm, sucking at your sensitive skin, not giving a damn whether he leaves marks on someone that’s technically not even his.

yet.

“do you remember that time we went to senior prom together?” he asks breathily, not slowing down even a little bit. “you were wearing that pretty blue dress. god, i wanted to take you home that night more than anything.”

you remember that. it was just before you two graduated high school together — he looked so dashing in his suit. you’d even imagined kissing him underneath the basketball bleachers like some cliche rom-com.

“so why didn’t you?”

“was too much of a pussy to do it.”

you bring yourself to chuckle inbetween your moans. “that’s a shame. i would’ve let you.”

just knowing that his feelings are reciprocated turns him on. he lifts his head up a little, kissing the front of your neck, your jaw, your cheeks — everything, only halting for a moment when he fucks you just a little faster, watching the way your eyes roll back from pleasure.

your hands run over his strong back as he pushes in and out of you at a steady pace, your lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’re biting it.

he hisses and relishes in the burning feeling of your nails digging into his shoulder blades.

“chan—god, harder, please—”

“i know, baby, i know, i got you.” he breathes out, changing up the position by hooking your legs over his shoulders.

it hits the exact right spot when he fucks you again, harder and deeper this time, your hands desperately clinging onto his skin, teeth sinking into your lower lip until they're nearly drawing blood.

beads of sweat roll down his muscular back. he feels you’re getting closer to hitting that release, so he moves one hand down to rub your clit again, aching to see you fall apart underneath him.

“fuck, ’s too much, channie—” you whine, throwing your head back in the pillow for a moment.

but he shakes his head, continuing, knowing you’re close. “you can do it, pretty girl. cum for me again. i wanna feel it.”

and he discovers that begging you works wonders, because it’s enough for you to come undone, clamping on his dick, making it feel so tight that he spills his own release into the condom mere seconds after.

with a layer of sweat on your foreheads, he feels how sensitive you are when he pulls out. he throws the condom in the trashcan, turning his face back to yours and kisses your lips more softly this time.

“how do you feel?”

“a little worn out.” you sigh, proceeding to show a smile. “but better.”

“good. how do you feel about taking a bath?”

“sounds nice.”

chan can’t help himself and leans in to kiss you again. he’s already getting awfully used to this, but one issue remains. “i wanna be with you. i meant everything i said tonight.”

the sentiment warms your heart. he’s always had that effect on you. “i know. i wanna be with you, too.”

he nods, happy with your words. “you go on ahead to the bathroom. i’ll clean things up here.”

“okay.” you tell him, pressing another kiss to his cheek before leaving the bedroom, feeling utterly lovesick.

he shares your feelings — it’s like he’s reliving that exciting feeling of seeing you the first few days after he realized he was in love with you.

there’s something that pulls him out of it, though. a certain vibrating sound. what is that? he thinks to himself.

and after looking around the room, he discovers it’s a phone receiving a call. your phone, to be exact, sitting in the back pocket of the jeans you discarded earlier.

the screen of your cellphone lights up, and he picks up the device, about to let you know someone’s calling — but his voice gets caught in his throat when he notices it’s the asshole who made you cry in the first place.

scoffing to himself, he taps the red button and declines the call.

thank you for reading. x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

Text

Good Boy

Male Sub Yan Bully + G.N Reader

"I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight. I want an obedient pet. Will you be that for me?."

Warnings/Tags: Top/Dom Reader, Anal Sex/Pegging, Cross-dressing, Light Degradation and pet play. Reader's gender is (obviously) never stated, but their parts are referred to as dick for ease.

Anyone with working eyes could see how whipped that boy was for you.

From the day he pushed past you in the hall, a faint spark started his heart stemming from the dismissive glare you back shot his way. That flicker was the match that blew everything into an explosive mess for your attention, igniting any obstacle in its wake. Your fellow peers avoided you for the continued safety of their fingers and social life, and every which way you turned he was there. His physical harassment didn't go beyond shoving you out of his way or snatching pencils and things meant for trash.

You never acted out against him - to his. Never ratted him out or even raised your voice. You hardly talked to him at all and that pissed him even off more. To make matters worse you were cordial in your brief encounters, and even threw off-handed comments his way. Trailing your fingers up his bicep when he forced himself at your table. Saying he looked "nice" with his hair up and out of the way of those pretty eyes. It drove him mad. He knew you knew he was too chicken shit to actually put hands on you and didn't bother wasting your energy to provoke him.

Recently, your dynamic had taken yet another turn. One, uneventful Monday morning, you strolled right up to his locker and patted him on the head as you walked off to class. His knees turned to jelly, and he nearly had a locker door slammed in his face following your hand as it left his soft locks. At lunch that very same day, you sat in his lap and even fed him his food - so long as he rushed through that project for his next class he was intentionally planning to fail. When the grades were sent back and you caught wind of his score, you kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair like you did before. His goons spread rumors of the two of you dating, but now everyone believed it with the leash you had around his neck. If he didn't get himself into detention, another pat. Good grades? Two kisses - if he work school appropriate clothing. Your switch from pretending he never existed to dotting on him like you were actual lovers boggled his mind to no end. What made you see him differently?

"This thing is way too damn short. I told you I'm not putting on fucking her bra - that's gross. Where the hell is my phone.. What the fuck?... give it to me. Post that and I will fucking ki-"

Oh - that would explain thing. It would explain a lot actually. All those weeks back, Erin had been asked by a friend to help deliver his sister's clothing to a nearby shelter with a few beers as payment. One of them had the brilliant idea to have a drinking contest with the loser having to try on her clothes. When it was discovered he had been pouring his into the grass, Erin was immediately disqualified and given his dues. They took video and posted it to his private page - forgetting about the person he made follow back. In all honesty, Erin had no problem wearing feminine clothing. It was just that everything that girl had absolutely shit tastes in fashion and not at all to kiss liking.

What he had on now was exactly his style.

Sliding a hand up his outer thigh, you loop two fingers through the heart shaped buckle attached to his garters and thigh highs. The spaghetti straps of his crop top hand loose and torn off his shoulders; neck and chest decorated in dark bruises and teeth marks. Circling your tongue around his puffy nipple, you pull it between your teeth - just to watch him squirm as your lips break contact with his chest; the strip of leather hanging from his thigh crackling against his skin as you retch your fingers free. He whimpers mutely, rubbing the stinging flesh into the mattress to prolong that fading bite. Grabbing his knee causes him to stop immediately, looking up at you with those pretty, pleading eyes through the whispy, dark ginger locks clinging to his sweaty forehead and cheeks. You smirk.

"What a good boy."

It had all been a test. You saw that video, and you had to have him. You knew he could be obedient with the right motivations and there was none better than giving yourself - and a little praise, to him. As usual, Erin was pissed when he found out you were training him like some.. dog, but he couldn't deny the guilty pleasure of you turning him into your bitch in front of the whole school. His cock throbs in his panties as his hazy mind replayed the billionth loop of you calling him yours; the phantom heat of your breath against his ears sending chills. Erin bucks away from the hand placed over the bump in his skirt so you wouldn't notice the pulse, but you certainly had. You close your fingers around his length, stilling him as another gloop of drool rolls past his lips.

"Eager Boy! I would love to help you with this, but.... I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight."

You drop your lips to his ear, teasing the shell in just the way that made him cry out everytime. His little bated moans were the cutest thing.

" I want an obedient pet - and lover. Will you be that for me, Erin."

His cock ached at the first title; his heart sung at the next. He'd do anything to relieve the tension in both areas. Anything to be yours. Licking his bitten lips, he nods.

"I'll be good...."

You reach up to stroke his cheek. Erin nips at your fingers, rolling the metal ball of his piercing between each. He spits directly in your hand.

"Freak."

His chest rises with a shaky laugh, yet there's nothing but obedience in those eyes. It's a work in progress. You smack the meat of his thigh with your spit covered hand; the sound and force of the saliva hitting his send immeasurable. The e way his mouth falls open as he gasps - you would've thought he came right then and there if his solid erection wasn't in your opposite hand.

"You're lucky I'm nice. Turn over, pretty boy."

Leaning back, you help Erin lift his leg over your head as he turns over onto his stomach. Scooting forward, his ass falls into your lap as he sinks down. You raise the skirt that barely covered much to begin with and slip those lace panties down; pre-ejaculate smeared into its crotch. You wish you hand more time to appreciate his attire or shove those frilly garments down his throat, but as soon as he came through your door it was too your bedroom - and you wanted to hear his sounds nice and clear for your first time together. There would be plenty more nights in the future for you to do whatever your heart desired. Reaching forward, you tap his lips with your finger.

"Spit? Since you've already proven you don't mind getting your drool all over your master."

Erin opens his mouth - letting out a gagged yelp of surprise as your fingers shoot down his throat. He's never been more thankful for the lack of a reflex. Regaining what little composure he hand, Erin swirls his tongue around your fingers and hollows his cheeks as he suckles them as you drag them out his mouth. His head falls into the pillow as you draw your arm back to position; spreading his asscheeks as your lubricated thumb teases his hole. It slips in easier than you imagine and his back muscles go taught.

"Have you fingered yourself before?"

Erin buries his face in the pillow, eyes avoiding your stare. ".... toothbrush."

"Pfft - you whore. I was wondering what happened to that. Guess I don't have to ask who you were thinking about while you did it."

"At least you go your brains if anything ever happens to your face."

Frowning, you yank the hair still trapped in the scrunchie he wore. "Bad dog. Guess you won't need the prep then."

Removing your finger, you lend your cock to his hole. He hooks one arm under the pillow and reaches the other behind him. You take his hand and lock your fingers with his as you slip inside; pinning the limb to his back as you sink in. You pull your knees from under him and plant them in the mattress as you drag your girth out of his tight hole. Erin drops his free hand between his legs, but you quickly add your weight to his arm - immobilizing him.

"Ah-ah, I didn't say you could do that did I?"

Erin grumbles something under his breath, but thankfully you don't hear it. As a reward for staying still you kiss along his back up to the nape of his neck, right below his choker where you plant your teeth as you start off at a gradual pace. His skirt falls pack down a couple times which you lose care of after a while and let drap at your thighs. He keeps his lips separated from the pillow so his heavy breathes are audible - just like he knew you wanted. Such a good boy. Dropping your grasp to his waist, you tug him back with each thrust - virtually bouncing the drooling boy on your cock. His greedy hole and desperate whimpers suck you back in. Pleads he tempts to conceal with his moans ringing longer no matter how exaggerated his sounds become. Like everything when it came to you - he just couldn't keep it in.

"ngh...y/n...please...hah... give more."

"You want more this so soon? Hm, you've been good enough so far."

Yelping as your hips snap against the curve of his ass, Erin rocks his with a stutter - rutting his aching cock into the mattress chasing friction you refuse to provide. Your hand cracks hard against his right cheek and his back arches against your sweaty bare chest as he all but screams into the pillow now forced into snuffing his cries. You grab his jaw and his head pivots back to look up at you.

"So noisy.... It's unsightly of you, Erin. Like you're a different person now you've got a few inches in you. Tell me, are you my good little puppy or some bitch in heat using my dick to get off?"

Tongue petaled around your thumb, Erin cries out beneath its weight. "Mmph.." You lift your finger, smearing his drool into his cheek as you turn his head to face you.

"What was that, boy?"

"y-yours... 'm yours, I promise. I can be both. Please let me be both."

"We'll see about that." Standing on your knees, you yank Erin along with you and lock your arm around his neck to keep him from falling as you drill upwards into him. His cock bobs with each hammer of your hips into his and you have enough mercy to stroke him to completion as his eyes roll back in his head. You mouth more marks into his neck and shoulder blades, scrapping your teeth on the bone. Your name bleeds off his tongue like it's the only he's ever known and right now there couldn't be a truer statement. You suck one more fresh hickey to his neck and work on to his jaw, licking the stray tears that drip down to the corners of his mouth as you crush his windpipe in your hold - darting your tongue past his gasping lips. Erin groans in the blissful heat of the thirsty kiss, cumming into your hand and onto his thighs and your pillow. You rub the sensitive flesh for a few more strokes before letting him fall into his own mess. You join him on the unstained pillow and scoop your arm under his neck. He scoots over, resting his head on your chest - eyelids droopy and body slack. You brush his hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his clammy temple.

"A quick rest, then it's the showers before bed for you, Mister.. You did amazing for me. Clean?"

You extend your hand; palm glazed with his spend. Erin scoffs, lips twitching into a faint smile.

"You're such a dick."

He sweeps his tongue over the salty fluid and licks it off the ball of your fingers, cringing at the taste, but doing as asked for once.

"True, but I'm your dick now."

He stops - eyes soft and more vulnerable than the entirety of your session. "You... were serious about that?"

"Of course. You're a good boy, Erin - when you want to be. I like you."

His head falls back to your chest, hand finding yours. "i... love you."

The next day at school, you walk in together with your wrist in his hand. You'd let him keep his big dog act for just a little longer. Stopping at your longer, Erin spots the one that got away - some little shit that snuck a note in your locker and fled his fury due to the teacher standing in the hall. His right hand tightens into a ball.

"Erin."

The student looks your way, shocked seeing the two of you so close. His shoulders relax as he shoves the fist into his pocket. Thankfully, you didn't have every period together. "See, i wasn't doing nothing."

You peck his cheek with a smile. "Good boy.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #sub yandere #yandere bully #yandere smut #top reader

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awkwardauthorwrites · 6 months

Text

What If (You Were Made For Me)

Word Count: 6.2k

Themes: pining, angst if you squint, two idiots in love, fluff

Summary: Halsin realises he’s in love with his best friend, Tav

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol. Like one swear word. I almost made myself cry writing this.

(I haven’t written since The Devil Doesn’t Bargain, please be nice. BG3 and specifically this druid has me in a chokehold, your honour I love this man, I am feral for him, he consumes my every waking and sleeping thought)

Halsin watched Tav from across the campfire, his brow furrowed as she spoke to Astarion with a smile on her face. She had been avoiding him recently and no matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn’t seem to put a finger on why. It had started small, with going on supply runs with anyone except for him until she gradually stopped training with him, she steered clear of his favourite parts of camp, and eventually it built up to her making excuses to not spend any more time with him than completely necessary. The explanations she gave always sounded sincere, but it had all been happening for weeks, and now there she was, sitting on the opposite end of the campfire instead of next to him and laughing and talking with Astarion.

He felt himself begin to frown as Tav gave Astarion a playful shove, a laugh escaping her as the rogue tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders to pull her back in. He watched with bated breath as Tav’s eyes lit up when Astarion held his hand out in front of her again, slowly showing her how he twirled a coin in between his fingers and how to make it look like it disappeared with a flourish. Halsin couldn’t understand it - it felt like only a few weeks ago that Tav and Astarion had regarded each other with cool indifference, but ever since the days they took to recuperate she had practically been glued to the rogue’s side. Tav took the coin from Astarion and attempted the sleight of hand herself, her face one of pure concentration. She made it to the final turn of the coin before she fumbled it and it slipped from her grasp, a low groan slipping from her as it fell to the floor.

Halsin didn’t want to admit how he was feeling as he watched them interact, but he hated it. His chest felt tight and his gut rolled with anger and jealousy. Especially when Astarion leant in to murmur something in Tav’s ear, his voice too low for Halsin to hear what he had said to make her face flush the most delicate shade of pink. She laughed again and shook her head, her nose wrinkling the way it did when she found something unbelievable. She nudged Astarion again, softer this time as he scoffed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head as she let the pale elf know she would be right back before she wandered into the treeline. Halsin watched her disappear from sight and wanted nothing more than to follow her and ask her what had happened, to figure out when everything had changed between them. The thing in his chest clenched tighter at his heart with every second she was gone and he was torn between waiting for her return or going after her.

“You know,” Astarion drawled, breaking Halsin out of his thoughts. “You can go after her, if you’d like.”

“And you can mind your own business,” Halsin snaps back, feeling unlike himself as he glares at the rogue. “She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, especially when she’ll only be gone a few moments.” To his credit, Astarion doesn’t flinch at the druid’s harsh tone or at the way his eyes flash gold in warning to reveal the beast that is itching to be released.

“Oh?” Astraion smirks, his fingers twirling the coin Tav had been holding earlier with practised ease. “With the way you’re acting like a scorned lover I never would have guessed. Green may be your colour but jealousy doesn’t suit you.” Halsin’s fists clench by his side and before he can even think about what he’s doing he’s stood from his seat and stalking his way across to Astarion, his jaw tight with anger and annoyance. The more rational part of his brain is telling him to calm down, that he can’t beat Astarion to a pulp just because he had struck a (annoyingly accurate) nerve, but the bear inside him is fighting its way out and wants to -

“Halsin,” Tav’s voice rings out from behind him, her tone sharp. He stops a few steps away from Astarion and turns to face her, his ire slowly seeping away as he looks at her. She looks equal parts confused and concerned at his out of character anger, although she also seems to be a little annoyed with him too from the glare she’s giving him. “I don’t know what Astarion said to piss you off, and I’m sure he deserves the punch you’re about to give him, but why don’t we leave the violence for the near daily threats we face, hm?” Her eyebrow is raised and she looks less than amused at the scene in front of her while Astarion dramatically places a hand on his chest, feigning outrage at her words.

“I…I apologise,” he mutters, embarrassment settling in his gut at his behaviour. He risks a glance at Astarion, who is watching him with vague interest and a hint of a smirk, before shaking his head and turning back to Tav. “I don’t know what came over me.” Her gaze softens as he looks back at her and she takes a few steps forward until she’s right in front of him, standing closer than she has been in weeks. Her hand grasps one of his fists to loosen his body language and she gently tugs at his sleeve.

“Come take a walk with me.” It’s not so much a request as a demand as she lets go of his sleeve and takes his hand in hers and begins to pull him away from the campfire. Astarion begins to whistle the tune for a bawdy ballad and without missing a step Tav leans down to grab a rock and throws it at his head. She doesn’t stop to see if it hit him or not (because of course it didn’t, thanks to his ability to uncannily dodge every blow that comes his way) and leads Halsin into the treeline, ignoring how loudly Astarion is laughing behind them.

“What’s happening? Is something wrong?” Her touch is like magic, and if he didn’t know any better he would think she’s cast a spell on him with how fast the tension leaves his body as he wraps his hand around hers. All the anger, the annoyance, the jealousy that he had been feeling earlier fades away as she pulls him deeper into the woods until they come across the small river they use to wash up in.

“You tell me,” she says, letting go of his arm once they reach their destination. She turns to face him, a fire in her eyes as she crosses her arms and looks up at him. “You’re the calmest person I have ever met. So tell me why you were about to swing at Astarion with more anger than I saw you direct at Minthara when she tried to raze the Grove to the ground.”

“Astarion-” Halsin breaks off, feeling slightly uneasy with the glare she’s directing at him. He had seen her use the look more times than he could count, but it was never directed at him. “It was nothing. It was stupid.”

“Clearly it wasn’t nothing because you looked seconds away from shifting into your bear form and ripping him to shreds,” she snaps. Halsin’s head dips down and he runs a hand through his hair warily as her tone suddenly makes him feel like he’s a boy all over again being chided by his tutors. Tav sighs and she steps forward slightly, her hand brushing his. “Look at me,” she says softly, the anger draining out of her voice.

Halsin lifts his head fractionally to look at her and sees nothing but kindness and concern in her gaze. Her expression is soft as she steps closer, and he itches to pull her into his arms and never let go but he can’t. He can’t because she is his closest friend and he doesn’t want to scare her away and despite believing the heart should be able to roam free he isn’t sure if hers belongs to Astarion or not and he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“What did he say?” Tav asks again, her voice gentle. “I’ve never seen you that angry before, Hal, so it can’t have been stupid.” Halsin’s heart thuds in his chest as she steps so close he can feel the heat from her body, and the way the nickname she’s given him rolls off her lips makes him want to fall to her feet and beg for forgiveness.

“He called me a scorned lover,” he mumbles angrily, turning away from her again. His face feels hot under her gaze and he doesn’t have it in him to watch her reaction as he repeats the rogue’s words. “He insinuated I was jealous of him because you’re spending more time with him than me.”

“Oh.” Tav blinks, clearly not expecting that answer and stumbles back a few steps, her teeth tugging at her lower lip in a nervous habit that set Halsin on edge every time she did it. “So you...you were going to hit him? Because he made some false, asinine insinuation that he and I were together and I had tossed you aside?” Halsin can’t tell if she sounds angry or not and he’s suddenly apprehensive at replying to her. He can usually read her like the back of his hand - and she can do the same for him - so why couldn’t he tell what was running through her mind right now?

“Is it false?” he asks, turning to face her again, his voice quiet. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, you’ve been spending your time with him. How could I not think that?” Halsin knows he’s said the wrong thing the minute the fire flashes back in her eyes and she steps closer to him again, her finger prodding him in the chest as she speaks.

“So what if I was seeing him? We’re not together Halsin, we never have been. You don’t get to throw punches at every person I meet just because I spend a little time with them!” Her voice rises steadily as she speaks and she turns her back on him and takes a few steps away, a hand running through her hair in frustration before she whirls back to face him. “I’m not seeing Astarion, by the way, and not that it matters, but I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“So why not me?” he blurts out, his eyes shining gold in suppressed rage. “Why is he the one you spend your time with and not me? Why does he get to steal you away from me? Why can’t I be the one to make you laugh for hours and be the sole recipient of your affection and time?”

“You-” Tav lets out a hollow laugh. “You’re joking, right? I’ve waited months - months - for you to stop looking at me like a child that needs protection. For you to look at me the way I’ve wanted you to since the moment we first spoke properly at that party after we saved the tieflings and the Grove. And now you start acting like you want me back?” She’s not shouting, but every word has Halsin flinching as if she had. “Now that I’ve finally decided I shouldn’t pine after you anymore because I’m nothing more than your best friend and you’ll never look at me the way I want you to?”

“You…” Halsin can feel his heart pudding in his chest at her revelation. He feels like someone has just yanked a rug out from underneath him and he’s free falling, but at the same time his heart soars knowing she feels the same way as he does. That she wants him just as much as he wants her. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you just tell me?” He reaches out so he can touch her, so he can hold her. “I never thought…I didn’t want to let myself hope-”

“How could I tell you?” She steps away before he can touch her and he swears his heart cracks as her eyes go misty and tears begin to well up. “You’re my best friend, Halsin. How was I supposed to tell you that somewhere along these months of travelling you’ve tripped me up and I’m head over heels in love with you?” The tears fall down her face and she wipes at them angrily. “How was I supposed to tell you that after you slept with someone else only a few days after I drunkenly came onto you?”

He feels his heart shatter at the sight of her tears, as he vaguely recalls the evening she’s talking about. They had stopped for a much needed break at a tavern and every single one of them had gotten ridiculously drunk as they unwound for the night. She had come up to him, her face red from either the alcohol or nerves and had run a hand down his chest in a way that set every nerve of his alight as she seductively murmured in his ear and asked him to join her in her rooms for the night. He had declined, even though every part of him screamed not to. He didn’t want her to regret things in the morning when she woke and had a clear head, he didn’t want to put their friendship at risk like that. A few nights later in the same tavern an elven warrior had come over to him when they were all significantly less drunk and had barely finished propositioning him before he whisked them away to a room for the night.

“Tav,” his voice is hoarse and he feels like someone is running a sword through him. She never brought up asking him to sleep with her in the following days and he had assumed that meant she was embarrassed or didn’t remember doing it. When the elf had come up to him later and asked the same from him he never stopped to think about how it would make her feel. How it would look to anyone else. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks eventually, “because you’re in love with me?”

“Yes,” she takes another step away from him as he tries to get closer. “I’m not proud of it, and seeing your face drop every time I made an excuse not to be around you felt like someone was shoving a dagger into my heart,” she puts her hand to her chest, the tears falling freely down her face now, “but I had to do it. You…you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more and I couldn’t be around you because it killed me to know you would never feel the same. The final nail in the coffin was when you slept with that elf. They were fucking stunning and I knew then you would never want me like I want you.”

“How can you say I don’t want you like that?” he rasps. “Have you not seen the way I’ve looked at you? Do you know how much effort it took to resist you?” He tries to inch closer to her, his body screaming to wipe her tears away and pull her into a tight embrace.

“Congratulations, would you like a medal?” Her tone is sarcastic as she slips away from his touch yet again. “Well done on showing some restraint with me when the Oak Father knows you’ll fuck anyone else with a pulse.” Her breathing is heavy as she glares at him in equal parts anger and heartbreak. “You thought Astarion and I had something going on and you almost ripped him to shreds. Imagine how it felt for me, watching you take someone else to your bed.”

“You’re right,” he admits. “How many times have I done this to you? How many times have I pushed you away, assuming I know what’s best for you when you’re more than capable of deciding yourself who you want to sleep with. Who you want to be with.” He takes a deep breath and he lowers his walls so she can see just how much she means to him. “You’re everything I want - everything I have ever wanted. And you always will be.” His words have the opposite effect he was hoping for and she sinks to the ground, a gut-wrenching sob leaving her as she covers her face and begins to cry.

He falls to his knees beside her, his arms reaching out to pull her into his embrace and tell her just how in love with her he is, but he hesitates inches away knowing she will only pull further away from him if he follows through. His hands land uselessly at his lap and he feels his own eyes burn as tears threaten to well up at the sound of her anguish. He blinks them away, he hasn’t earned the right to be upset, not when he’s hurt her so deeply.

“I understand if you don’t believe me,” he says instead, his voice low and full of emotion. “If you tell me to leave right now, I will. Or if it will make you feel better to yell at me some more I’ll stay and take it. I’ll do whatever you want - whatever you need.” He pauses, hoping the words he’s about to say don’t hurt her further. “Please believe me, Tav.”

“Would you have told me?” she asks, her voice thick with tears. “If you hadn’t thought I was with Astarion, would you have ever told me?” She looks up at him and her red-rimmed eyes only cleaves his heart further in two. “If you didn’t think my heart belonged to somebody else would you even have realised how you feel about me?” He pauses as she speaks; he doesn’t want to lie to her, but he knows in his soul she won’t be pleased with the answer he’s going to give her.

“No,” he whispers eventually. “It took seeing you with him to realise I was in love with you, and I wish every day that I hadn’t needed that reminder. I should have seen it the moment we met, the way you made me feel…” He lets out a shaky breath and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m an idiot.” Tav inhales sharply at his words and nods to herself, her jaw clenching tightly as if she’s trying to stop herself from falling apart again.

“Well, you won’t hear any arguments from me.” She looks up at him for a few seconds before she looks away again, tears welling back in her eyes as she stands up. “I’m tired. I’m going back to camp.” She doesn’t ask him to follow her, but he does anyway, stumbling to his feet as he follows her back through the trees. He walks in silence by her side as she leads them back to camp, his body heavy and his mind spinning. The one person he wanted in the world was right next to him and he had never felt so far away from her. They return to the camp and all eyes are on them, especially when they take note of the tears that have yet to dry on Tav’s face.

Astarion sits up as she walks over to him and throws her arms around his shoulders and begins to sob into his shirt. The vampire clearly doesn’t know how to react, but after a moment he wraps his arms back around Tav and holds her close, walking her away so that everyone in camp isn’t privy to her breakdown. Halsin bites the inside of his cheek and looks away as Astarion does what he can’t and comforts Tav as she cries. He knows now that she doesn’t have romantic feelings for the pale elf, but that doesn’t stop his chest from clenching tightly as Astarion’s hands rest on her waist and run through her hair comfortingly.

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Shadowheart sidles up to him, her tone dry. She has an unamused expression on her face as she stares up at Halsin, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Karalch gives her a gentle nudge and offers Halsin an apologetic smile.

“I know,” he agrees instantly. “I want nothing more than to give her the comfort he’s providing her right now, and it breaks my heart that I’ve caused her this much pain without even realising it. Seeing Astarion hold her like that…I wish it was me, but I’m glad she kind find some solace in someone here.”

“She doesn’t love him, you know. They’re only friends.” Shadowheart nods her head towards Tav and Astarion. “He’s been trying to help her catch your eye for a while now.” Halsin blinks, the information catching him off guard.

“Astarion is trying to help her?”

“And you,” Shadowheart turns her head to glare at him. “Astarion has been trying to help her with her confidence so she could test the waters and flirt a little with you. And then you had to go and reject her when she finally tried to tell you how she felt only to sleep with someone else a few days later?” The cleric looks mad now, and Halsin has no doubt in his mind that if they were in a more secluded part of the camp she would be yelling and cursing him out for treating Tav the way he had.

“Nothing I say will ever be able to erase what I did, no matter how much I wish it could.” He lets out a sigh and looks over at Astarion and Tav again. The rogue has pulled her across the camp to her tent and through the open flaps he can see she’s lying down on her bedroll, her head in Astarion’s lap as his fingers run through her hair. “How long has he been trying to help?”

“Does it matter?” Shadowheart asks, her tone sharp. “You never even looked twice at Tav until you thought Astarion was interested in her. No one wants to be made a choice after they become unobtainable - or in this case assumedly unobtainable.” There’s a soft expression on Astarion’s face as he comforts Tav, one Halsin has never seen before. For a split second he wonders if she’s better off without him in her life, whether that’s as a friend or more, but the selfish part of him can’t bear to leave her.

“Just give her some time, soldier,” Karlach steps forward, ignoring the glare Shadowheart shoots at her. “She’s hurt, it won’t do any good to speak to her right now, you’ll only push her further away. Give her a few days.” He gives Karlach a nod and looks back over at the campsite, wanting to disappear into the trees and give Tav the space she clearly needs, no matter how much it will hurt him.

Shadowheart and Karlach walk away, leaving Halsin alone again. He watches Astarion cup Tav’s face in her hands and wipe away the last of her tears, muttering something he’s too far away to hear before he kisses her on the forehead. Tav lets out a weak laugh and shakes her head, and the scene grips Halsin’s chest painfully tight. He shakes his head and walks back into the treeline, his eyes glowing gold as he shifts into his cave bear form and darts into the woods.

One Week Later

Halsin trudges back into camp, feeling weary and more than a little exhausted, and is a little surprised to see everything is still in its place and the group hasn’t moved on without him. He shifts back into his elf form, shuddering slightly as his body protests and walks towards his tent, giving awkward smiles and nods to Gale and Jaheira, who wave in greeting at him.

“Hey, soldier!” Karlach grins when she sees him, raising her tankard of ale in greeting as she bounds over. “Welcome back, it’s good to see you.” For a moment it looks like she’s about to pull Halsin into a hug, but decides against it at the last minute. She watches his eyes dart around the camp, no doubt looking for Tav or even Astarion, and his hopeful expression falls when he sees neither. “She’s in town gathering supplies,” the tiefling lowers her voice considerably so no one can hear them. “We’re running a little low after she all but forced us to stay here and wait for you to come back.” Halsin looks at her in surprise, but she just shrugs as if she hadn’t said anything and takes another sip of her drink.

“I assume Astarion has gone with her?”

“You assume wrong.” The white-haired elf walks by, a book in his hands. “I’d say it’s good to see you again but…” Astarion grimaces and takes in Halsin’s dishevelled appearance. A week of wandering through the woods as a bear has left him looking more than a little worse for wear, with dirt and dust covering him from head to toe, and what felt like a small bird’s nest worth of twigs tangled in his hair. “You look like shit. You should get cleaned up before she’s back, the gods know she’ll only be more upset at you dragging yourself back here looking half dead.” He walks away and settles outside his tent, sipping idly from a glass of wine as he continues to read.

“Wyll went with her,” Karlach fills the awkward silence. “We needed a lot, so he’s gone to help her carry everything.” Her gaze softens as she looks him over, taking note of his tangled hair and the dust on his clothes. “She’s missed you, you know. She’ll be glad you’re back.” Halsin feels something in his chest loosen at the words and he hopes the barbarian is right.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Soon, probably. I’m not saying Astarion was right but uh…you might want to consider getting cleaned up before then. No offence,” Karlach wrinkles her nose playfully and Halsin can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, the sound foreign to his ears. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing as he catches on a large knot and lets out a quiet sigh. The thought of Tav coming back to see the state he’s in pushes him to move, and he mutters a quick see you later to Karlach before making his way to his tent to grab some clean clothes and his supplies.

He’s soon down by the river, trying not to think about the last time he stood there and the heartbreak on Tav’s face as he strips down and scrubs the week in the forest from his body and his dirty clothes. He pulls more twigs and leaves out than he thought possible and it isn’t long before he’s walking back to camp, a towel slung over his shoulder and his now cleaned and dry outfit in his hands while he wears fresh clothes. Karlach is still drinking when he returns, her feet propped up on a bench as she basks in the sun, Shadowheart curled beside her as she sips from her own goblet.

“Halsin?” He would recognise her voice anywhere. He turns around to see Tav a few feet away, a large supply pack hanging from her shoulder. It falls to the floor with a thump as she takes a hesitant step forward. “Is it really you? Are you back?” Her voice is as soft as a whisper, and he barely registers as Wyll picks her discarded pack up and walks away, giving them both some much needed space. Halsin feels like his heart is caught in his throat. All at once he wants to pull her into his arms, he wants to fall to the floor in front of her and beg forgiveness, he wants to hide from her again but he also wants to yell from the mountains that he loves her and will do anything to fix what he broke.

“Oak Father’s blessings, Tav,” he places his fist on his chest in greeting, his voice hoarse. He takes a small step closer to her before hesitating. He wants her to decide where they go from here. She is all he wants, but he doesn’t want to push himself onto her. He doesn’t have time to finish the thought in his head before she’s dashing across the camp and throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly, her legs dangling because of their height difference. Her head is buried in his neck and for a moment he forgets how to breathe let alone hug her back. He’s stunned for a few moments, and more than a little relieved that she hasn’t outright told him to shove off, and his arms wrap around her waist, holding her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t reply, and instead she holds onto him a little tighter and he can feel the collar of his short go damp as she begins to cry silently. His eyes slip closed as he pulls her closer and he wills himself to keep it together as he uses one of his arms to grip her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist so that they aren’t dangling in midair. He presses a kiss to her forehead, his heart stuttering as she doesn’t pull away or snap at him not to touch her and he’s only vaguely aware that the rest of the camp is being ushered away by Shadowheart and Karlach so the pair can have their moment. Once everyone has disappeared, Tav pulls back and steps out of Halsin’s arms. He itches to pull her back but the glare she’s sending him makes him reconsider.

“Don’t ever do that again!” she snaps, pushing him slightly. She doesn’t do it with enough force to move him, but surprise and confusion flits across his face. “You can’t just disappear like that for a week, Halsin! No one knew where you were, you didn’t leave a note - what if something had happened to you? How was I supposed to know you weren’t hurt or captured or even dead?”

His mouth flops open uselessly at her reprimand, an apology on the tip of his tongue that suddenly feels unbearingly inadequate. He can see it on the exhaustion on her face, in the dark rings under her eyes. He thought leaving and giving her some space was the right thing to do, but just like when he had slept with that elf he hadn’t stopped to consider how it would make her feel. At the time he didn’t think she would care he was gone - she was an inconsolable wreck when he left - he hadn’t realised that Tav, let alone anyone else, would have no way of getting into touch with him while he was away. The silence between them is so loud that his ears ring, and yet he still can’t find the words to say. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover the pain he’s put her through.

“You’re… you’re not hurt, right?” she asks, the anger leaving her voice as she stares at him, assessing him for any damage that she can’t see. He tries to respond with a quip or a clever comment, but he can’t. The guilt weighs too heavy on his heart right now.

“My pride, perhaps.” He offers her a weak smile as she scrutinises him. “I didn’t mean to worry you while I was away. I just wanted to give you some space.” She opens her mouth to reply but it seems it’s her turn to be unsure of what to say. She wraps her arms around her waist and looks around at the now empty camp and tilts her head towards the unlit fire.

“We should probably talk. I promise I won’t shout and poke you this time.” A weak smile falls on her lips as she makes her way over and sits down on one of the logs. Halsin gives her a weak smile and follows, sitting on the tree stump opposite her. He has so many thoughts rushing through his mind, so many things he wants to say to her, but when he opens his mouth to say them all that comes out is an incoherent mumble followed by a low sigh.

“I don’t know where to start, either,” she laughs nervously and runs a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry for how I reacted last week. I didn’t mean to explode on you. It’s not an excuse, but I was just so hurt and angry and I felt a little betrayed and…I’m sorry.”

“I deserved it.”

“Maybe,” she gives him a faint, teasing smile and he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Hal…” She hesitates again, chewing on her lower lip. “Did you mean what you told me? When you said I was everything you want and that you-” she breaks off, her face flushing, but the words hang in the air. Did he mean it when he said he loved her? His face softens and he nods.

“I did. I meant every word and I still do.” His voice is soft as he slides into a seat closer to her and holds a hand out in offering. He’ll let her decide if she wants to take it. From here on out she makes the calls on where they stand. He can live with being just a friend to her if it means having her in his life. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way about me anymore, given all that’s happened, but I want you to know.” She fidgets in her seat and her face turns the most enticing shade of pink as she places her hand in his and squeezes gently. Halsin has to struggle not to pull her onto his lap and wrap his arms around her, but he reminds himself that she’s in charge here.

“I meant what I said too. Somewhere along the way while we’ve travelled I...I just fell so hard and fast for you. You mean the entire world to me, Hal. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She swallows and looks up at him and how did he ever think she didn’t have feelings for him when she looked at him like that? He was blind to have not seen it before. “I’m not going to lie, it stings that you only wanted me after you thought I was taken by someone else. But...I’m selfish. I love you, Hal. I-I’m putting my heart on the line here, I want to be with you. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.”

“Tav,” he whispers, pushing himself to his knees in front of her. “My heart does not stir easily, but…” he pauses to let out a quiet, warm chuckle. “I feel like it never truly started beating until I met you. Nature outdid itself with you, and the Oak Father will have truly blessed me if he allowed you to be by my side. My heart is yours, as is every other part of me.” Tav lets out a breathless laugh at his words and sinks down so she is also kneeling in front of him, her hand winding around his shoulders so she can fiddle with his unbound hair.

“And mine is yours,” she murmurs, a smile flitting across her face as his hands come to rest on her waist. He pulls her onto his lap like he’s wanted to since he first realised he had fallen for her, and he’s rewarded with a beautiful blush and coy smile.

“You’re all I want. I don’t even want to look at anyone else but you.” He leans in, his lips brushing across her jaw softly before he places a kiss on her cheek. “My love, my heart, my soul; they’re all yours.” Her breathing hitches and her fingers tangle themselves in her hair in response and she leans in, her lips a breath away from his

“Halsin, may I kiss you?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” He closes the gap between them, his lips brushing hers tenderly once, twice and a third time before he grips her hips and kisses her like he’ll never have the chance to again. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of her hands in his hair, or the sweet sounds she makes as he pulls her impossibly closer, but he relishes the feeling all the same as they more than make up for their lost time.

#halsin fanfiction #halsin x tav #halsin x y/n #halsin x you #halsin x reader #halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x fem!reader #halsin fluff #halsin angst #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #awkwardauthormasterlist #awkwardauthorwrites #awkwardauthor

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jhoneybees · 5 months

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Little green thumb

Characters: Elvis X Innocent!reader

Warnings/triggers: Nothing hehe

Prompt: Elvis surprises you with something special but then an unfortunate incident happens but he makes sure you feel better about it.

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You've always had a soft spot for flowers, often going to the gardens of any hotel Elvis and you were staying at in Vegas, just to quietly admire the pretties. One day Elvis saw how your eyes would wander to the sunflowers in the vase sitting on the dining table as you ate your breakfast and that made him think of an idea.

After a few weeks of being in Vegas, Elvis and you finally arrive back home, you decide to sit down and relax in the living room for a while. Being so focused on the magazine you were reading, you didn't see Elvis in the doorway until you randomly looked up, you jumped in fright “Elvis you scared me!” a hand to your chest to catch your breath. He chuckles “M’sorry honey” you shake your head with a smile then your eyes lower, noticing Elvis holding something behind his back “What's that behind your back?” Elvis grins, walking over to join you on the couch. “Well I got ya somethin’ “ showing you a small packet, labelled ‘Sunflower’ a gasp leaving your mouth as you took it from his hand “Sunflowers!” Elvis' grin grows and he chuckles again “Thought you'd like to grow ‘em..” you happily wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him excitedly “Thank you, thank you!” giving him a soft peck on the cheek.

The next day, you prepare a flower pot and after planting a seed, you place it outside just next to the front door of Graceland, thinking it'd be a delightful sight to see every time anyone walks up the steps. You took care of the plant, watering it every morning and just before going to bed; Regularly pulling out any weeds that invaded, it’s almost like your own child.

One morning the flower blooms making you overjoyed. Giddily walking up the stairs to drag Elvis down to show him the sunflower, not caring if you interrupted him from something important, you were so excited. Elvis smiles when he sees the flower and praises you “Aw it's gorgeous sweetheart” pecking your cheek with a chuckle. Elvis adores you. He knew you loved flowers and just seeing you lean over the couch to peek outside the window to look at the sunflower that sat on the steps with a content smile on your face made his heart melt into a puddle but then a storm came one night, neither of you or Elvis thought of bringing the sunflower inside because you were too distracted from the scary sounds of thunder, wanting to just curl up in Elvis' arms “ ‘s alright baby, I ain't goin' nowhere” stroking your hair gently as you squeak and grip his shirt tighter from a loud crash of thunder.

The thought finally clicked in your head as you woke up the next morning, you forgot about the sunflower. You abruptly rush out of bed making Elvis stir in his sleep. “Honey?” ignoring him as you race downstairs then as you opened the front door, the sight you saw made your eyes brim with tears. Your precious sunflower that you adore so much got torn to pieces from the storm. “No..” kneeling down on the ground, you pick up the broken stem and the petals that were scattered everywhere, your vision getting blurry from your tears. Elvis sluggishly walks down the stairs whilst wiping the sleep out of his eye and when his eyes land out the door and sees you crying, they widen “woah, woah! Darlin' why ya cryin'?” bending over to pat your back and wipe your tears away with his thumbs. You hiccup adorably “M-my my flower…” Elvis realises what you were pointing at and his expression softens “Aw sweetie…” turning his attention back to you, he presses his lips on your forehead. Rubbing slow circles on your back as you pitifully sob. Soon your breathing slows and Elvis helps you inside in the jungle room to sit somewhere more comfortable. “M-my sunflower daddy…” you whispered and Elvis cooed “I know honey, I know” he feels so bad for you, little sweet you who always finds the value in everything when other people would just shrug and not raise an eyebrow, your sweet nature is one of the things that Elvis just absolutely can't get enough of.

Your fingers playing with the hem of your nightie as you sniffle quietly, Elvis cards his fingers through his bed hair and sighs. “I don’t like storms..” you pout, Elvis chuckles low “Now that’s a little mean, ya think the clouds would like to hear you say that?” you thought for a bit before you shake your head and pout even more “No…but the storm hurt my sunflower…” Elvis breaks into a small grin, lifting you onto his lap. “I guess you’re right, that wasn’t nice of the clouds to do that huh?” you nod sadly. Elvis kisses your temple lightly and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his large hand “Y’know there’s still plenty of seeds in that lil packet I got ya” he reminds you. Looking into his eyes “ Yeah?..” you frown in confusion “You can grow another one” a small smile creeps up onto your face and you shyly look back down to your fingers playing with your nightie, you didn’t think of that.

After eating breakfast, you and Elvis started cleaning the mess outside before planting a new seed in the same pot but this time, placing it in the jungle room, on a window sill that the sunshine beams through most of the day to make sure no storms would harm it and in a matter of weeks the new sunflower blooms and your happiness comes back. “My little green thumb” Elvis whispers before pecking your cheek lovingly as you excitedly but gently touch the petals.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #70s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis x innocent reader

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imaginesandbandfiction · 3 months

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Triad Part 7 — Trouble in Paradise

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

A/N: MFW the silly little smut drabble series I started over winter break starts developing a plot :o

Lmaooo I should have seen this coming. Be patient with me, I'm in a creative writing MFA program so fanfic isn't my priority rn but this series is begging to be written so I'm going to follow those vibes as far as they take me, just bear with me if updates are sporadic.

Click here to be added to the taglist so you never miss an update!

Warnings: Angst, some smut

Of course, there’s a learning curve that comes with a Triad Bond. Sex is the easy part—being in a relationship with two bullheaded Illyrian males is more complicated.

Rhys tried his best not to send any of you on solo missions but, inevitably, something came up and Azriel had to go undercover in the Court of Nightmares. It’s a top-secret mission and he has to block you and Cassian out the entire time he’s there, lest someone learn the true reason for his visit.

And… it was a lot easier to be a spy without two mates waiting for him back home. His mental shields are ironclad, trapping all the frustration and sadness behind closed doors, but it seeps out in other ways. His shadows are way more vicious than they normally are and, after long days spent playing nice with Keir and his cronies, as soon as his bedroom door locks behind him, he fists his cock in quick strokes. It takes a matter of minutes for him to spill himself into the mattress with how pent-up he is.

Things aren’t much better in Velaris. Sure, you and Cas have each other, but the bond hates the dark hole where Az should be and no matter how hard you try to soothe the ache, it never goes away.

Cassian throws himself into training; on days he doesn’t have other work to do, he flies out to Windhaven and spends the day beating the shit out of anyone who dares challenge him. When he comes home late at night, you patch him up with soft, delicate touches and hold him until his tears dry up.

Sex isn’t the same without Azriel there, either. You try to hold out; it feels wrong without him, but everything boils over a week into his absence.

Cassian spent the day in Windhaven, again, and you wait up with a book and a cup of tea but it’s morning when he slams through the door drenched in blood and reeking like the mixed-together contents of a liquor cabinet.

“Cas?” You mumble, lifting your head off the couch cushion and rubbing your eyes as you push yourself into a sitting position. He stomps past you into the bedroom and you hear the water running as he fills the bath. Stifling a yawn, you push through the nausea swirling in your gut and follow him on your tiptoes.

When you push the washroom door open, you see his broad shoulders bent over the edge of the half-filled tub, bloodied and shaking with the force of his sobs.

You surge forward and fall to your knees next to him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you whisper, rubbing his back. His head drops to your chest and you feel his rumbling anger in your soul.

Y/N? It’s Rhys’ voice in your head, tentative and sheepish. Is he okay?

No, you snarl back, immediately feeling guilt for the harshness of your words. But Ariel is gone, Cassian is broken, and your heart is torn in two. You force yourself to be gentler as you ask: Is there something I should know?

Rhys hesitates. Devlon called me in to fetch him this morning and… it wasn’t pretty. I’ll send word to Madja and tell her you’re going to be out for a few days.

Before you can protest, he continues. I know you’ve been working overtime. You’re running yourself ragged, Y/N. You need a break just as much as he does.

Rhysand cuts off the mental connection in the middle of your indignant huff, but the gears in your mind are turning. Instead of turning to each other in Az’s absence, you’ve been burying yourselves in solitude and work. Clearly, something has to change.

You loosen the strip of leather holding Cas’s hair up and sprinkle deep purple healing magic into it as you run your fingers through his thick locks. It’s just enough to calm him down, sobs tapering off into shuddering breaths.

“Cas?” You ask when he finally stills, slumping boneless against you. “Whose blood is this?”

He tilts his head back, guilt filling in every line on his face, and your heart clenches. No wonder Rhys offered to talk to Madja for you; he probably needed her to fix whatever damage Cassian’s misplaced anger had caused.

“‘M sorry,” Cas whispers, burying his face in your neck again. “I didn’t mean to, I just…”

“Shhh,” you shushed him, curling one arm to cradle his head. “I know you didn’t, baby. Rhys does too. This is new territory for all of us, and there were bound to be some kinks to work out.” Cas nods against you and you squeeze him as tight as you can, channeling love and healing magic through the bond. Behind you, the tub is full of steamy hot water, so you wave your hand to get rid of Cas’s clothes and help him into the bath.

When he’s settled, you shed your nightgown and get in with him. He rests his head against the side of the tub and lets you run a bar of soap over the planes of his muscles, healing bruises and scrapes as you find them.

"Thank you," he whispers once you’ve finished. He reaches one hand out and pulls you against his chest without opening his eyes.

The bond settles as much as it can without a third anchor to tether itself to. You lay there, basking in the soft glow of your mingling magic, until suddenly Cassian stands up, pushing you off him.

“Sorry,” he grunts when you fall forward, splashing into the water. “I just…” You follow his gesturing hand down the V of his hips and the problem stares out at you—long, thick, and hard. “I dunno, it feels wrong without Az.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, torn between the mouth-watering sight of him on display, just inches from your face, and the guilt bubbling up inside you. In the end, the bond makes the decision for you, practically shoving you forward to pull Cas’s cock in between your lips.

His protests are dead on arrival; you don’t even hear them, too focused on pouring all your pent-up sexual frustration out onto him.

After just a few minutes, his hips are bucking wildly and he forces himself to pull back. You look up at him with wide eyes and saliva dripping down your chin, and he growls, tugging you out of the tub so he can shove you against the wall. He drops to his knees and drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, devouring you like a man starved.

With no patience left for teasing, he fucks you with his tongue, plunging deep into your core until you’re writhing against him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, tumbles out of your head and into his as the pleasure builds and builds.

That's it, baby, he sends back down the bond, digging into your sweet spot with one of his fingers. Let go for me.

Your body follows his command, the tightly wound coil inside of you snapping as soon as you have permission. He grins against you as you fuck his face, riding out your high.

As soon as he pulls away, he’s got his hands under your ass, hauling you up into his arms as he presses his cock into your slick folds. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as your head drops back against the wall.

It’s quick and dirty. Without Azriel there to force you to slow down and savor each other, you’re teetering on the edge of a second orgasm before you’ve fully recovered from the first. Cassian’s thrusts grow sloppier and you feel through the bond that his release is looming.

When he ducks his head to pull one of your nipples between his teeth, both of you lose the last of your self-control. Cas drives his hips into you and fills you up, tipping you over the cliff. You clench your walls around him as your release comes gushing out.

Meanwhile, in one of the training rooms under the mountain, a wave of something washes over Az as he’s running through drills against a training dummy with Truth Teller. At first, he thinks it’s nausea and regrets not stopping by the kitchens to grab a bite earlier, but the ache is too low to be coming from his stomach.

When he reaches one gloved hand to palm himself through his leathers, he’s shocked to find his cock solid and straining against the fabric. He thanks the Mother that he’s training alone today and makes quick work of it.

Three weeks into Az’s mission, Mor heads under the mountain to check on him under the guise of visiting her father. She enters the dining room and immediately realizes that something is wrong. There’s a woman sitting to Kier’s right, and Az is on her other side. His shadows nip at Mor’s toes like she’s the enemy as she takes her seat on her father’s left.

He refuses to speak to her, but when they make eye contact during dessert, his eyes are dark and stormy, filled with shadows of their own.

When she retires to her room later that night, she reports back to Rhys who orders her to pull Az out as soon as she can.

Despite the fact that they haven’t slept together in decades, it’s easy to slip back into old habits. The next morning at breakfast, she lays it on thick. By dinner time, her father merely waves them off when she requests the Shadowsinger for her own personal reasons.

“Go on then,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “I’ll let the High Lord know when I require your presence next.”

As soon as they’ve both gathered their belongings, Mor winnows them away. When his feet touch solid ground, Az shoves her away with a snarl. His shadows surge forward to cushion her back and prevent her from falling; even blinded by his anger, he doesn't want to hurt her.

“What the fuck,” he growls. “I wasn’t done!”

“I have orders to pull you out of there. Rhys thinks you’ve gone in too deep.” Az growls like a feral animal being forced into a cage.

“Rhysand needs me in there now more than ever. Something’s happening, Mor. Something big, and I was working my way in, I—“

Mor cuts him off, holding a hand up to silence him.

“You think I don’t know that? Whether I like it or not, that’s my father. I know something’s up, but Rhys needs you in there, Azriel. And you’re not you right now. You’re cold and ruthless, not thinking clearly after too much time away from your mates.”

Az deflates and drops onto the sofa behind him. It’s the worn old leather one in Rhys’s mother’s cottage, in Windhaven. Mor sits down next to him, rubbing a hand across his shoulders, careful to avoid brushing against his wings which are rigid and full of tension.

“It’s not your sole responsibility to save the world, Az. You’re an excellent spy, but you’re more than that, too. Don’t let the tunnel vision take over.”

Az drops his head into his hands, letting out all of the air in his lungs with one deep sigh. He knows she’s right, that the bond should be a strength and not a weakness, but he’s terrified that something will happen to his mates. He couldn’t risk it, not when he was down there.

But that wasn’t his decision to make alone. The more he fought against the bond, the more it fought back, rattling his brain and tugging at every one of his senses. The effort to keep it bottled up drained his energy until all he could see was the mission, his purpose. Gathering information about the woman, Amarantha, became the most important thing in his life.

So he feels like a bit of an asshole when he turns up on your doorstep with his rucksack slung over one shoulder and only a faint shimmer of the bond left flickering inside his chest. It’s not enough to keep him tethered to the two of you, so he has no idea how you're feeling, but he forces himself to knock on the door, anyway.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting your arm drop from the doorknob to your side. On your end, the bond bursts into bright golden flames that shoot down, making a beeline for Azriel.

It tugs at Cas’s side, too, and then his head pops up behind your shoulder.

“Hi,” he says, flashing the dopiest grin that Azriel has ever seen.

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @hnyclover

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leanchugger420 · 1 year

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₊ ׅ ֹ 𓈒 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐧𝐦.𝐫 𓈒 ֹ ׅ ₊

pairing – boyfriend!niki x fem!reader

warnings – fluff, heartbreak, established relationship, depressive state, mentions of heart being torn out and bleeding, fluff <3

wc – 0.8k

A/N – i love love love this so much! hope u enjoy <3 please do like and reblog!! it helps me reach more impressions :)

today for the first time ever, niki wasn’t speaking to you. every single question you asked him was shrugged off.

‘hi niki!’ ‘hi’.

‘what’s up?’ ‘nothing’.

‘how are you?’ ‘fine’.

‘is something wrong?’ ‘no’.

niki was always enthusiastic to be with you, to talk to you, or just see you. you wondered why your oh so loving boyfriend who behaved like a little puppy when he saw you, was being cold and ignoring you today.

ever since you and niki had started dating, you’d always be co-dependent with him. if he was happy, you were happy, if he was sad, you were sad, if he was angry, you were angry. you guys were a twin flame.

two months ago, when enhypen’s manager permitted niki to move in with you, you both were more than ecstatic. that entire first week, you were in paradise. pillow fights, movie nights, midnight snacks, playing games together till 4 am. it was everything to you. he was everything to you.

it killed you to feel this way. to feel like you had made him upset. to feel like you made him feel anything less than happiness.

you analyzed every single thing you could’ve possibly done and every single thing you could possibly do to make him feel anything but this way. you were pondering your options while staring off into the distance, but just then, you took a glance at his face. the dead, emotionless expression in his eyes broke your heart in a million pieces.

“niki”.

no response.

“do you want to go get bunggeopp-“

“i think i’m going to move back to the dorms” your face dropped immediately. he’s pushing you away. why is he doing this? he loves you. right?

“w- what? niki, are you joking?” you had to ask even though you knew he was in no place to joke around right now especially about such a serious topic.

“i think we should break up, y/n. my feelings have changed” you felt your heart rip out of your chest and bleed all over the ground. he walked away from you. he doesn’t love you anymore. he’s moving out. niki was no longer your boyfriend.

you lifelessly wandered around seoul city for hours, feeling no reason to want to go home. the one thing that made it your home was gone. it was 2:47 am and you finally stepped into your (ex) shared apartment with niki.

it felt brand new. all of niki’s stuff was gone. it was almost as though he never lived with you in the first place. you dropped to the floor and tears fell out of your eyes. you felt the wetness on your cheeks pouring out and you screamed at the top of your lungs. you didn’t cry, you didn’t speak. you didn’t leave your apartment the next day and you continued to do so for the next two weeks.

it had been two months since niki had moved out and ended things. you were functioning but you lost your spark. you were no longer the person you used to be. yhe y/n that everyone loved. the y/n that niki loved.

for once, you decided to go out for dinner alone. you thought if you were going to be alone, you could at least learn to be happy by yourself. you went to the ramen place a couple of streets away from your flat where you and niki used to go. you sat there for ten minutes after eating your meal to gather yourself. the entire time you had only missed niki and reminisced about your memories in this place.

you wiped your tears from your face while walking into your apartment. you felt your stomach drop when you saw niki sitting on your couch. you were hallucinating, you had to be, but that didn’t stop you from calling out his name.

he looked at you. your flat was completely dark, but you could see stars in his eyes. you had really gone crazy, you thought, as you walked towards him slowly, he got up from the couch and ran towards you. he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and you heard him sob.

this is real. he is real. these words rang in your ears and as soon as you came to your senses you put your arms around him, and the tears poured.

“y/n, i’m so sorry. i miss you so much. i love you so much, i’m so sorry, please forgive me. i lied to you, nothing changed. i love you, i love you. please don’t leave me. you’re all i have left. i wasn’t thinking properly. i miss my mother, i miss my family, i miss japan. i lost everyone. i can’t lose you too.”

you didn’t say anything at all for a while. you stayed still and quiet in his embrace.

“y/n, please say something” he searched your eyes for any sign that you might have moved, that you might say no and turn him away.

“you didn’t lose me. you never will. i love you too, niki. i missed you so much” he held your face and and caressed your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

#niki fluff #niki x reader #niki #enhypen niki #enhypen #nishimura riki #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #niki imagines #kpop fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction #enha fluff #enhypen soft hours

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sunvmars · 7 months

Text

sickeningly sweet | s.r. [5]

pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader.

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word count: 4.6k summary: just steve trying his best to prove himself to you warnings: swearing, smut implications/mentions a/n: this fic is not actively on hiatus, however i've recently broken my elbow and have a full arm cast which makes it hard to type. i've been having brief writers block as well, but the upload schedule will become more regular soon, enjoy! :)

Warm, soft yellow rays from the sun peer through your curtains. The light catches your eyes perfectly and wakes you up from your slumber. You blink slowly, squinting at the sudden bright intrusion as you adjust to the new day. It only takes you a moment to become fully aware of your surroundings. Then a wave of confusion washes over you.

The first thing you notice is that you're not laid out in your usual sleeping position. Instead, you find yourself curled against a warm and soft, yet solid, presence. Your head cranes back to rest on an all-too-familiar chest. The soothing rise and fall of the person's chest behind you is recognizable too.

It becomes increasingly obvious that there's only one person it could be behind you.

You lift your head and turn carefully to see Steve fast asleep with his arm securely wrapped around you. He's usually got a stoic or rugged expression, but he looks calm in his sleep- like he always has. His grip is tight as you're flush against him. His eyes are closed, lips are parted slightly, and strands of his blond, messy hair fall onto his face. The soft glow of the morning sunlight illuminates his features elegantly.

How did you end up like this?

You simply lie still and watch him for a moment, taking in the sight of the man you fell in love with. He must've fallen asleep because he's still got on the same thing from last night. The faint thumping of his heart provides a soothing melody that makes your heart swell with affection. As safe and comforted as you feel in his embrace, which threatens to put you back to sleep, you're well aware that you have a long day ahead.

You shift around slowly in his arms. You're able to almost wiggle free, but then he stirs again. A low, hardly audible groan slips from between his lips before he's pulling you against him tightly. He doesn't realize it, but he nuzzles his face into your shoulder before pulling back and loosening his grip a little.

"Morning," he murmurs, his voice soft but husky.

When you turn to look at him you see his thick lashes fluttering. He attempts to adjust to the bright light, just as you did earlier, and then his eyes peel open. His mesmerizing blue eyes glance up from behind you to meet yours. The corners of his lips turn up tenderly at you.

"Morning," you reply with a voice equally as soft.

It's then that he realizes he's still got you held under his arm. "I'm sorry, do you want me to move?"

Your brain goes blank causing you to hesitate; finding yourself torn between leftover bits of your anger and the undeniable comfort of his presence. The last thing you want is to make this into some confusing relationship, but it is confusing, so what's the arm in a comfortable cuddle every now and then?

"No, this is fine," you respond after a few seconds.

Steve's expression softens. "Are you sure?" he questions, his thumb stroking your arm slowly.

You answer him before you get the chance to second-guess yourself. "I'm sure, this is...perfect, actually. I haven't slept that well in weeks."

He smiles gratefully and pulls you back in. "Good, I didn't want to let go yet."

"We do need to get up soon, though. When did we even fall asleep?"

"You started falling asleep while we were talking. You were exhausted in every sense of the word so I laid you down and tucked you in. I wanted to respect your boundaries, so I got up to leave. But you got restless every time I tried to go, no matter how long I sat down next to you."

He pauses as if trying to gather his words. He contemplates for a moment, then continues.

"I remembered that, when we were together, you'd always fall asleep easier when I would hold you and trace little patterns on your arm," he says. "So, I thought, just for tonight, that I'd do that until you were asleep and then I'd leave. But then..." He trails off and a hint of embarrassment shows on his face, his cheeks growing the lightest shade of pink.

"But then you fell asleep too?" you finish for him.

Steve nods. "Yeah. I didn't plan on it, but it was comfortable being so close to you again."

You can't help but crack a small smile at his confession. Being wrapped in his arms after so long is comforting, confusing, and frustrating all at once. The hurt he'd caused you should be making you want nothing to do with him. For the time being, though, the ache for things to be how they were before trumps it; the security and warmth that only Steve himself can provide overtakes you.

"It has been a long time since we've been this close," you say, your voice filled with reminiscence.

"Yeah, it has." His gaze meets yours and there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you missed desperately. "I miss this and you and... I just miss us," he admits, his voice hardly above a whisper.

You swallow hard as you try to keep down the tears that brim your eyes. You're more than sure that you miss it too. You miss all of him, actually; the intimate nights and loving days, the feeling of being truly understood and cared for, the shared dreams for your future.

"I miss us too, Steve," you confess, trying to hide your weak-sounding voice.

Steve's grip on you tightens again. The pair of you lie there basking in the fresh morning rays, the gravity of your shared longing floating around in the air. You know that this doesn't solve everything and there's still more to be mapped out, but you find your peace in his arms and he finds his in holding you. So, maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to each other.

"How are you feeling today?" he asks, breaking the momentary silence.

You take a moment to assess yourself. How were you feeling? You felt like you hardly knew yourself at the moment. Everything you feel conflicts with each other. Confused would be the perfect word for it, but it's so much more than that.

"Overwhelmed," you sigh deeply. "I feel like I'm supposed to be hating you but I can't find it in me to do it. I'm supposed to be so fucking angry with you that I can't stand to look at you, and part of me is, but mostly I just want to waste away in this bed with you. And, fuck, I feel horrible for bringing a baby into this whole mess."

He feels a pang in his heart upon taking your words in. "Please don't feel like any of this is your fault. Had I told you earlier, maybe we could've had this fixed already- that's on me," he says reassuringly. "And please don't tell yourself you need to feel a certain way; you're allowed to feel nothing or everything all at once. We'll figure all of this out, I promise. I'm here to protect you and our baby, dove."

Your heart hums at the new pet name and the usage of 'our baby,' again, but you can't conjure up a response. All you give him is a brief nod before turning your head away from him.

"You remember what I used to tell you when you felt unsure of yourself?" he asks, hooking a finger under your chin to turn your face towards him. "You are remarkable and resilient, honey, and your path is yours to make."

You smile lightly at the sentiment. It was a simple notion, almost corny with how cliche it sounded. He had drilled the idea into your mind whenever you felt less than during the first few months of dating. It started as something he'd say to help you get back on your feet, but he repeated it so often it turned into your personal mantra. He'd told you to keep it as a reminder whenever you forget who you are, and you did.

"Repeat it out loud for me, dove."

"Steve, I don't think I need-"

His eyes narrow at you, effectively cutting you off. "Wasn't a question, love. I know you, and I know it won't stick unless you say it too."

You inhale and exhale deeply with a dramatized eye-roll at his persistence. "I am remarkable and resilient and my path is mine," you recite.

Steve smiles warmly at your perfect recital. "That's right," he coos gently. "There's my girl."

He leans down to brush your hair back, allowing him room to place a soft kiss behind your ear. An electric shiver runs down your spine when Steve's lips touch your skin. Your eyes close and you hum in satisfaction at the sensation. The affectionate gesture is so achingly familiar but it feels like something you've just discovered. Both of you know where this is going, and you stop it before things get too confusing.

"Steve, we can't," you mutter before rolling on your opposite side to face him. "If we keep acting like us then it has to mean something, right? I just...I don't want this to get frustrating for either of us."

He looks into your eyes longingly but you turn away under the intensity of the moment. His hand raises to cup your cheek in an attempt to sway your gaze to him. His thumb traces slow patterns on your cheekbone to soothe your overdriven brain.

"What do you want it to mean, poppet?"

You ponder for a second. What did you want the two of you to mean? Did you want it at all? Is it really a good idea to be this close again already?

"Promise," you respond, eyes finally locking with his. "A promise for us, our future, and our family."

The movements of his thumb on your cheek pause briefly while he dwells on the word. "Promise, hm?" he repeats, tasting the syllables on his tongue as they roll off. "I quite like the sound of that, dove."

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You're pulled in by the vibrant, yet soft, eyes staring back at you as they twinkle under the rays of the sun. And he must feel it this time too, that same longing from last night, because he leans in towards you. His lips ghost just centimeters over yours and his warm breath fans over your mouth.

His glance flickers from your eyes to your mouth then back again. "Does this promise for our future include me being able to kiss you again?" he asks lowly.

Your heart races, torn between the fresh wounds of your past and the undeniable temptation of the present. "Maybe just this once it does," you mutter. "And maybe there's some room for a little more now and then."

A smile graces his lips. "Good."

Steve leans in to close the minuscule gap between your lips. The kiss is tender, warm, and chock-full with a quiet longing. An enveloping sense of familiarity washes over you as your lips work against his. His lips mold with yours perfectly like they're meant to be there. You melt into the kiss, completely forgetting everything that's not him.

His hand trails from your cheek to the back of your neck. Long, thick fingers grasp your neck with a small amount of pressure. A hardly audible squeak falls from between your lips and into his mouth. Your hands find his chest to rest on as he deepens the kiss. He pours all of him into the kiss, surrendering himself to you as he always does.

Gently, his teeth tug your bottom lip between them as he pulls away. "I'm never letting go of you again," he breathes out, his forehead resting against yours.

It's your turn to smile this time, a warmth spreading throughout your chest. You press yourself closer to him to rest your head on his chest. The grip of his arm around you tightens, your heart now beating against his. A few soft kisses are peppered on the top of your head as you revel in the moment.

"We should probably get out of bed," you say, voice almost completely muffled by his chest.

"After I just said I'm never letting go of you again?" he jokes. He chuckles softly, his fingers idly tracing lines on your back. "As tempting as it is just to stay right here all day, I suppose you're right, poppet."

A lingering kiss is placed on the top of your head before his hold on you is slowly released. You, rather reluctantly, untangle yourself from his embrace to sit up in bed. The comforting warmth that had wrapped you up only moments ago has you regretting your words. You glance around the room as Steve sits up beside you, his expression unreadable as he looks at you.

"I hope you believe me when I say I'm going to fix this."

Your hand comes to rest on his cheek momentarily. "I do," you reassure him.

After a few seconds, you get off the bed and pick out clothes from your closet. You grab underwear from your dresser then step in front of your mirror beside it to begin getting dressed. There's no need to go to the bathroom to change; you were engaged and are currently carrying his baby after all. He watches you slide your clothes off with upturned lips and an odd sense of pride. While you weren't officially his again yet, he was more than proud that it was you he was starting a family with.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, y'know that?"

"Is that so?"

Sea-blue eyes track your movements as you slide your panties up your legs and thighs and over your ass. He sucks in a deep breath at the sight. He'd certainly be lying if he said the view wasn't one he missed.

"There's no doubt about it, poppet," he admits, trying to hide the growing desperation in his voice.

Your gaze stays glued to yourself in the mirror, brows furrowing together as you cringe at the lacey texture of the fabric. Bending over, you slide the panties back off before leaning to the side to shuffle through the drawer again. It takes all of him to hold in the arousal he feels building up when he catches a glimpse of your bare ass for the second time. He gets out of bed quickly and then comes to stand directly behind you. He knows he probably shouldn't, but his hands hover above the sides of your thighs.

"Can I?"

His voice and sudden presence behind you make you jump. Your body straightens and your eyes lock with him behind you in the mirror. He rests his hands on your thighs as soon as you nod at him and rough, strong hands trace your curves. You shudder as his palms glide up your body with ease, his fingers occasionally digging into your flesh. The movement comes to a stop on your waist before sliding back down to your hips.

"So fuckin' pretty." Hesitantly, he leans down to whisper into your ear, "I love you, dove."

Your breath hitches upon hearing Steve's words in your ear. The sensation of his touch on your skin and his whispered affection have you swooning all over again. It's like time hadn't passed at all and instead picked back up on your past relationship.

"I love you too, Steve," you whisper back.

He ponders on his thoughts for a moment. "You think there's room for some of that 'a little more' right now too?"

Just like him, you know you shouldn't, but you give in. You're still not completely sure if it's hormones or just how badly you've missed his touch, but you need his hands on you.

You nod briefly and urgently, "Yes."

His lips attach to your neck and start to plant soft kisses on the sensitive skin. Instinctively, your head tilts to the side to give him better access. One hand rests on your hip and the other moves torturously slowly back up your body as he places tender kisses on your skin. He explores the familiar terrain of your body, grasping and savoring every single inch he brushes over. Your head tips back against his shoulder, eyes closing when he allows his fingers to brush the underside of your breasts.

Slightly rougher kisses are placed along the path to your shoulder before making their way back up. He locates the sweet spot on your throat fairly quickly seeing as he'd remembered everything about your body. His tongue darts out across the skin after he bites gently on it. You gasp when he cups your breast harshly, his fingers digging into your hips to pull you closer to him.

His voice comes out as a husky rumble in your ear. "You don't know how horribly I've ached to see you like this for me again, dove. Being this close to you, it's driving me crazy."

Your eyes peel open to meet his in the reflection of the mirror. You reach behind you, your fingers tangling in his soft, blond hair. His fingers find your nipple and begin rolling it between his digits. He sucks on the side of the base of your throat. The resolve you held can be felt slipping by the second. Only minutes ago you were telling him why you couldn't take things so fast, yet now you find yourself more than willing to on it.

He moves down to your shoulder again and, carefully, his teeth sink into the skin. His hand removes itself from your breast to return to your other hip. His grip tightens as he places a chaste kiss on the bite mark.

"Stevie," you whine.

Steve tsks at you with a smirk plastered on his face. "'We can't'," he mocks teasingly. "Your rules, darlin', and I'm not going to give you what you need until we're an us again. Of course, there's no pressure, but I can't go making things complicated for my doll, now can I?"

You wiggle in his grasp, your ass accidentally brushing over his clothed length. "But 'm giving you permission- please, Stevie," you beg with a pout.

A low growl emits from his chest and his hands pull your hips backward so your ass grinds down onto his cock. "This what you wanted, poppet?"

You squeal at the quick movement, a whimper falling from your lips. The only thing you manage to get out is a hum of approval. He's so, so close to giving in like you have, but he won't let you do something you'll regret. So, almost as soon as the sensation is there, he removes it. He lets his hands drop as he takes a step back.

"No," he growls lowly. "I'm not giving anything to you until you're begging me for it."

Irritation and disappointment seep through you. "Fuck you, Steven," you pout again.

"Don't worry, I'll fuck you eventually," he says, lips now turned up into a grin as he places an arm around your waist. He places a kiss on the side of your head before whispering in your ear, "And I'll take my time with you when I do."

His words send a chill through you. However, that electric shiver doesn't replace the annoyance coursing through you.

"I hate you," you grumble, "You came over here just to tease me?"

"I came over here with every intention of teasing you as far as you'd let me, yes," he says with a smirk. "You almost had me willing to give it to you, but I know you'll only kick yourself for it later."

You frown upon realizing he's probably right. As badly as you did want him, you know it would trouble things within you.

"Fine," you mumble, fake defeat laced in your tone. "Whatever."

Steve then spins you around to face him. His hands raise to gently cup your face. He smiles down at you warmly, planting a kiss to your forehead before speaking up.

"Come on, don't be so upset," he coos, eyes never leaving yours. "I'll make you sing for me soon, dove."

Amongst the desire, you can see a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he speaks. Despite your lingering frustration with him, a soft pull tugs at the corners of your lips and forces you to smile. Steve has always had a way of getting under your skin and probably always will. Yet, you can't deny that his presence, touch, and teasing are all things you've missed like no other.

"Alright, fine," you reply with a sigh. "But you better make damn good on that promise, Rogers."

He chuckles in response to your dramatic act and places a fleeting kiss on your lips. The quick kiss is a promise in itself, a promise that there's still something between you that's completely worth exploring. He removes his touch reluctantly to help you finish getting dressed. There's a comfortable and well-known silence in the room as he helps you get ready.

You follow Steve to the kitchen and plop down on a stool at the kitchen bar. Your eyes stay glued on him as you watch him with a fond expression. He opens the fridge and reaches in as if to grab something, but he retracts his hand almost immediately. A warm sensation spreads through your chest when he turns to face you.

"What are we feeling for breakfast this morning, love?"

You cock your head to the side, thinking about it for a moment. "Pancakes," you sigh deeply, your stomach growling in response.

He chuckles, offering a smile in return. "Fruity or sweet?" he asks.

"Surprise me," you beam.

"My favorite answer," he grins before turning to grab certain ingredients from the fridge.

He whips together the ingredients in a large bowl. You occupy yourself with games on your phone and the occasional small talk as he cooks. Only a few minutes into his cooking, a siren sounds from inside the building. It was the mission siren signaling that the jet was there, but there weren't any missions coming up, and-

"Fuck," you groan quietly, rising from your stool. "Steve, why didn't you remind me about our mission today? Now we're gonna be late."

He turns to face you with his eyebrow cocked up in confusion. "I'm sorry? Love, neither you nor I are going on that mission today. I reassigned it last night."

"You did...?"

A chuckle slips from his lips. "Of course I did," he says, refocusing his attention on the pancake batter he was making. "You think I'd let you go out there with the danger you're in and with our baby in you?"

A wave of emotion swells in your chest, tears welling up in your eyes. Your child's father keeping you out of life-threatening situations is the bare minimum, so now you're sure it's the hormones talking. You walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his mid-section with your head resting on his back.

"Thank you," you murmur into his shirt.

"It is quite literally the least I could do, dove," he laughs.

He pulls away from the stove and wiggles in your grasp to turn around. His fingers coax your chin up so that your eyes meet his. Delicately, he lays his free hand on your stomach. This time, you make the first move. Your lips meet his in a quick and loving kiss.

Steve smiles against your lips again, the warmth of the morning sun washing over the two of you. The soft glow bathes the kitchen as it did your bedroom, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. His lips work on yours as he deepens the kiss, yet another silent promise to protect you and your growing family.

You hesitantly pull away, the smell of the pancakes cooking on the stove overtaking your senses. "I appreciate you looking out for us," you coo, your voice filled with affection.

Steve's eyes gleam with affection as he replies, "I'll always protect both of you, no matter what, love. That's a promise I intend to keep."

His touch lingers on your cheek before he releases you and turns around to face the stove. You step away and take a moment to appreciate the domestic scene in front of you; the man you so helplessly love cooking breakfast for you and your unborn baby.

"I guess that means we have some time to ourselves today," you muse, your eyes locked with his.

He nods briefly, a grin on his face. "Seems like it."

As the pancakes continue to cook on the stove, you and Steve somehow find yourselves wrapped up in each other's arms minutes later. You allow yourself to bask in the comfort of his presence. You've already let yourself do more with him than you thought you would want, what's the harm in appreciating the smaller things?

Of course, this doesn't fix things. The breakfast, the heavy petting, and the affection are nice, but you don't forget why you're angry. However, this doesn't feel like the same relationship you'd had a few weeks ago. It feels new and refined, healthy and fresh- and that's why you allow it.

Eventually, the pancakes are ready and Steve forces you onto the stool you'd previously sat on, insisting that he makes your plate. It's chocolate chip pancakes with a side of fruit and a glass of water and God it smells fucking good.

"Thank you, Stevie, for doing all this for me."

"Anything for you, you know that, hm?" he says with a smile.

He takes the seat next to you as you quickly cut a piece of your top pancake and shovel it into your mouth. The chocolate melts in your mouth causing you to moan lowly.

"When did you get so good at this, huh?" you inquire, face lighting up at the delicious flavor in your mouth.

"I've been practicing," he replies before popping a blueberry from his plate in his mouth.

"Very impressive," you tease playfully.

You both enjoy your meal at the kitchen bar, soaking in both the taste of your breakfast and each other's company. The atmosphere, when it isn't filled with small talk or quips, fills itself with a comfortable silence. The ability to look at him, talk to him, and not immediately feel sick already feels like an improvement from just two days ago.

After finishing your meal, Steve takes care of the dishes while you sit in the dining room chair he'd made you move to.

"Please? You need to support your back," he'd said with a false pout.

You lean into your chair and watch him again with a soft smile. He moves with a grace and ease that's abnormally captivating, and you can't help but admire him and all he is. Everything always seems like it's second nature to him and you almost envy it.

"What time do we need to go see Stark?" he asks, setting the last dish on the drying rack.

"Maybe here in the next half an hour?"

A hum and nod is all he gives as a response. He dries his hands before sauntering over to you. His arms slip around your neck to carefully crane your head backward against his abdomen.

"I'm glad we have this time together," he confesses as he looks down at you.

"So am I," you agree, your fingers resting on his arms. "It feels like a step in the right direction."

And it is- it's the start of something fresh, something untainted.

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willalove75 · 7 months

Note

Hello there!

Happy Kinktober And guess what I just realized?

WE NEED A MONSTER SEX WITH OUR BELOVED LADY D'S DRAGON FORM!.

(only if ur comfortable with it)

This is my request and Hope your doing a great day 🤍

Hiya!! Happy kinktober! AND YESSSS!!!!

I've actually never written smut with her dragon form before so this should be fun!!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

Tags: Teratophilia, monster fucking, praise kink, degradation kink, mommy kink, oral/face sitting, dom!Alcina/sub!reader, masturbation

Alcina had been gone all night. The two of you were supposed to have a romantic date night but it was cancelled last minute when she found out there were hunters trying to breach the castle walls. She insisted you stay home, that she would be more concerned for your safety and didn't want to worry about you getting hurt while she was taking care of the pesky hunters. You tried to fight her but eventually you gave up knowing it was a losing battle.

Laying in her massive bed, you tossed and turned and after a few hours you gave up on trying to go to sleep altogether. It was hard enough falling asleep without her next to you, but knowing she was out there fighting against who knows how many hunters, you were too worried and too frustrated to sleep. Frustrated that you couldn't help, that all you could do was wait and hope she returns home safely. You were also frustrated because the two of you haven't been able to have sex in almost a week. To most people that's normal but for the two of you that's almost an eternity.

As you laid there with your mind spinning your hand wandered down your stomach and traveled down between your legs. Your fingers danced along the lace hem of your underwear before slipping underneath it. A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as your fingertips found and slowly began to circle your clit. It's not that you were trying to make yourself cum - Alcina all but forbid you from doing so without her explicit permission - but you were just trying to release some of the built up tension. As you pressed harder against your clit a small moan rumbled in the back of your throat.

Your fingers dipped lower and you collected your arousal onto them and brought them back to your clit once more. Soon your underwear became too confining so you peeled them off and tossed them aside, spreading your legs wider as you pleasured yourself more.

The circles you were making around your clit became faster and tighter before you brought yourself to the edge and back down again. After doing that a few times you slid two of your fingers between your folds before pushing them deep into you. You were so focused on the sensation of your fingers pumping in and out of you you didn't hear the balcony door open or hear Alcina walk into the room.

"Well, well. What do we have here, little one?" She asks, her voice dark and sultry.

You immediately slammed your legs shut and shot up in bed, your head snapping towards the direction of her voice.

"A-alcina, I didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously. You were much too enthralled with pleasuring yourself. In my bed."

You can practically hear the smirk in her voice and you know in your heart of hearts that her brow is raised in your direction. As you open your mouth to respond, Alcina steps out of the shadow and into the light. The first thing you notice are her gigantic, beautiful wings. The second, her tentacles writhing around her.

"Speechless already?" She teases and you realize your mouth is open and you snap it shut.

Alcina's dress is torn and covered in blood, as are her hands, face, neck, and chest. Somehow her lipstick is still pristine and her perfectly plump lips are curved into a smirk as she glares down at you. She saunters towards the bed and drags one of her nails up your leg, stopping at the hem of your nightgown.

"Such a naughty little girl." She mutters as her eyes rake over you. "I suppose it's time I've taught you a lesson, isn't it?" You stare up at her wide-eyed and speechless. She places her finger underneath your chin and lifts it. "Use your words, little one."

"Yes." You breathe.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes mistress."

Her smile widens into a bigger smirk and her hand leaves your face.

"Very well then. I shall be right back, stay put." She says before turning around and heading towards the bathroom. Just before she closes the door she turns and looks at you. "And do not touch yourself. Understood?"

"Yes mistress."

"Excellent."

A few agonizing minutes later Alcina emerges from the bathroom, naked and free of her ruined dress and blood. To your surprise - and excitement - her wings and tentacles were still out. You would have thought that she would have let them dissolve when she was in the bathroom but a new excitement pulsed in your core as she stalked her way to the bed - eyeing you like a predator focused on its prey.

You stared at her with wide eyes as she towered over you. Before she was even able to speak you raised your arms above your head. An almost sinister smile spread across her lips when she saw you submit to her without her even needing to say so.

"Being good now, are we?" She asks as her eyes raked over your body.

"Yes mistress."

The bed dips as she kneels on it and you instinctively spread your legs for her.

"So obedient. And without me even having to utter a single word." She says as she drags one of her nails down your chest, leaving a light red mark in its trail.

Alcina leans over you, placing each of her hands on either side of your raised arms. The smirk on her face grows wider and you feel something smooth wrap around your wrists, binding them together. Looking up you see one of her tentacles wrapped around them. Your heartbeat begins to increase with excitement. She's never used her tentacles in bed before and you're just as excited as you are nervous about it.

Just then you feel two of her tentacles wrap around each of your thighs and they spread your legs wider. Alcina settles herself between them and brushes her lips against yours, teasing you. Her warm breath skates across your face and you have to stop yourself from trying to grind your hips into her.

She continues to brush her lips against yours and when she pulls away you let out a small whine.

"Whining already, are we? Draga mea I've barely begun."

"Please." You whimper.

Alcina cocks an eyebrow at you and leans back down. She presses her lips into yours and kisses you hard. Her tongue glides over your lips and you part them. The second your lips part her tongue forces itself into your mouth and begins to circle yours. Alcina places one of her hands in the middle of your chest as she kisses you. Her nails graze your skin and as she kisses you harder her hand slides up to grab your throat. Her grip around your neck tightens just a bit and you groan. Alcina is able to feel the vibration against her hand and she breaks the kiss to look down at you.

"Gods, look at you. All pretty and tied up for me. You'll let me do anything I want to you, won't you draga?"

"Yes mistress."

"Such a good girl. So obedient for your lady. If you behave maybe I'll show you some mercy and make you feel good. But if you are disobedient," she tightens her grip around your neck just enough to barely cut off your airflow. "I won't be so gracious. Understand?" She growls before loosening her grip on your neck.

"Yes mistress. I'll be good. I promise."

"Good." She says before diving back in and kissing you hard once more.

With each movement of her tongue she pulls moans and groans from the back of your throat. She swallows each of your sounds with an eagerness you don't see often.

Alcina finally breaks the kiss and sits up. She crawls up so each of her knees are on either side of your still bound arms. Looking up you can see her dripping pussy just inches from your face. As you look further up you see the soft curves of her stomach, the undersides of her gigantic breasts, her hardened nipples, and finally her glowing gold eyes.

"Be a good pet and make mommy feel good. If you do I just might reward you."

Before you can even nod in response Alcina lowers herself onto you, the taste of her juices flooding your mouth. You eagerly lap at her cunt, licking through her folds, circling her clit and diving back between her soaked lips. You repeat this a few times before giving extra attention to her swollen clit. Taking it between your lips, you suck on it and flick your tongue over her soft flesh. Alcina's hips buck and she lets out a moan. As you lick and suck at her clit more she begins to rock her hips against your face. One of her hands grabs at your hair as she fucks herself with your mouth.

"Yes draga, right there!" She cries out.

Alcina must have been as desperate as you were because before you know it, you feel her walls clench down around your tongue as you dart it in and out of her cunt. Knowing she's close, you latch onto her clit again and suck and flick your tongue over it until you feel her shake above you.

"Don't you dare stop." She growls. "Just like that, you're gonna make me - fuck - you're gonna make me cum baby."

Small mewls and moans escape from her lips before her shaking legs tremble and her moans grow louder. She grinds down harder on your face before throwing her head back and crying out.

"Yes! Oh fuck yes!" She screams.

Her juices drip out of her as she cums in your mouth and you lap up every drop, not giving her a moment of reprieve. You can feel her arousal coating your mouth, chin and cheeks. After one more suck to her overly sensitive clit she sharply inhales and pulls away from your mouth, trying to catch her breath.

Moving back down, she wipes your face with her thumb and slides it into your mouth. Letting out a moan when you taste her cum on her thumb, you lick and suck at it until it's clean.

"Good girl." She purrs. "You did so good for mommy. You made me cum so hard with your diligent little tongue."

A cool breeze passes through the room and you feel the wetness between your legs as her tentacles are still spreading them wide. The feeling of the breeze across your pussy sends a shiver down your spine and Alcina feels you shake underneath her.

Alcina leans down and kisses you. Much to your surprise, she kisses you with a softness you weren't expecting. Just as you melt into the kiss you feel something prodding at your entrance and then slide into you. You moan into Alcina's mouth as you feel your walls stretch against the size of whatever just went inside of you. She breaks the kiss and pulls away. You notice her hands are once more on either side of your arms and you see a wicked smile across her face. Looking down, you see one of her tentacles withering inside of you.

The moment Alcina sees you see her tentacle she pulls it out and slams it back into you, causing your back to arch and for you to cry out. It slides deeper inside of you and twists and turns, hitting spots inside of you that you never knew existed. She thrusts it in and out of you and you whine and moan with each movement.

The tentacle curls into your walls and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you cry out her name.

"Oh fuck Alcina!"

"Good girl draga, look at you, my little slut. Letting me fuck you in this state. Are you mommy's good girl? Her little slut? To play with and fuck?" She asks as she thrusts it faster in and out of you.

"Yes! Fuck! Yes I love it. I'm your little slut mommy." You whimper.

"Mmm, I love hearing you say that." She says as she leans over you once more. "Do you know why, draga mea?" You shake your head "no" as your eyes roll back again. "Because, you. Are. Mine." She growls, punctuating each word with a hard thrust into you. "Mine to fuck. Mine to dominate. Mine to kiss. Mine to touch. Mine to love. You're mine." She says, thrusting harder and harder with each word she emphasizes.

You nod your head as your vision clouds with bliss.

"Say it." She growls.

"I'm yours, all yours. Forever, Alcina." You whimper.

You hear Alcina moan and you muster up enough strength to open your eyes as she fucks you. Her head is thrown back and her hips are gyrating between your legs. You see one of her larger tentacles deep inside of her pussy. A moan slips from your lips as you watch her and she slowly looks down at you. When her eyes open you see that there's only a sliver of gold left in her irises, the rest swallowed up by her blown pupils.

Alcina brings you to the edge, you feel yourself clenching down around her tentacle and just before you cum she lowers you back down. Crying out in protest, you hear her dark chuckle.

"Oh draga mea, did you really think it would be that simple?" She says with a devilish grin.

She thrusts her tentacles in and out of the both of you, slowly building up her own orgasm as she brings you to the edge and back down over and over again until you're pulling at your restraints.

"What's the matter?" She says with a pout.

"Please." You whine.

"Please what?"

"Please make me cum!"

"Have you learned your lesson, little one?"

"Yes!"

"And what was it?" She asks as she teases you with her tentacle.

"I won't touch myself without your permission ever again. I promise!" You cry out.

"Good girl."

"Please, please let me cum!" You say as tears well up in the corners of your eyes.

"Not yet draga mea. I promise I will, but not yet. Mommy wants to cum with you." You nod your head and a tear escapes. Alcina leans forward and wipes it away. "Oh, draga mea fata. I love how desperate you get when I deny you over and over again." She coos. (my sweet girl.)

You can feel your orgasm building up again and you're convinced you're going to lose your mind if she denies you one more time.

"Please! Please!" You cry out.

Alcina's moans grow louder and louder as she grinds down on her own tentacle. Her movements become more and more erratic and you feel her tentacle frantically thrusting in and out of you.

"Fuck mommy, I'm gonna cum!" You cry as you feel yourself clenching down around her tentacle.

"Good girl, mommy's so close. Oh, fuck! Fuck yes." She moans into your neck as you grind into her.

"Mommy, please!"

"Cum with me, baby. Oh fuck! Cum with me!" She cries as she throws her head back and her body shakes over you.

Less than a second later you're sent into outer space. Finally reaching the climax you've been so desperate for. Your back arches off of the bed and you cry out as she relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm.

"Fuck!!!" You scream.

Alcina keeps fucking you and herself before finally slowing the pace of her tentacles down.

As the two of you come down from your highs Alcina slips the tentacles out of both of you and she rides out the remainder of her descent by grinding onto your leg. You grind back into her and she kisses you before moaning into your mouth.

Her frantic kisses slow as she comes down from her high. She stops grinding on you and continues to passionately kiss you. The tentacles she had wrapped around your wrists and legs release you from their grip and you run your fingers through her hair as you kiss her.

Alcina rolls to her side without breaking the kiss and you follow. You feel her smile into the kiss as it comes to a stop and Alcina rests her forehead against yours. She rubs her nose against yours before placing a kiss on the apple of your cheek. When you open your eyes you're met with her gorgeous gold irises.

"Although I didn't appreciate you breaking my rule - thank you, draga." She says before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "That was exactly what I needed after dealing with those hunters."

"Of course, my love. I'm glad I was able to help." You say, kissing her back. "And in my defense, I didn't make myself cum." You say with a smirk.

"Brat." Alcina says, not bothering to mask her smile before she kisses you again.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 alcina #re8 village

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loggiepj · 1 year

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BLADES AND BULLETS

Summary : You and Wanda are both the leaders of your respective mob groups before you started a relationship together. But you have betrayed her trust and broke her heart. Now, she's going after you to kill you for what you have done. (This was inspired by that time I played GTA 3 😁. Oh, it's a G!p reader!)

Warnings : 18+, Mature, Smut, Violence, Hurt, Heavy Angst

You woke up disoriented and lightheaded, as if you just came from a week long sleep and you didn't know what day it was. Before you could give yourself time to think about it, the foreign surroundings met your eyes. It made your eyebrows furrow in deep confusion since you haven't been here before, yet the place felt familiar and the smell felt like home.

It didn't take long before an agonizing pain made its way through your head, making you think as if your head was going to explode any minute.

All you could do was groan and grunt. You attempted to move your hands, making you realize they were bound behind your back. You tried to pull it loose but to no avail, it would seem as if the captor knew how to do their knots.

Your eyesight then travelled towards your legs, which were also tied to the feet of the chair. You were fucked.

"If it isn't my favorite person in the world." You haven't heard that voice before for a long time now, hoping everyday you'd never forget it, never forget about her.

You turned your head around to find the source and finally, the very beautiful redhead who hasn't left your mind for months made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. You would have cried but you controlled yourself.

"Wanda, baby-"

Wanda scoffed, her arms crossed over her chest, making her look so fiery hot in a short skirt and leather jacket. "Don't you call me that. . . . You've lost that right when you decided to cheat on me."

You tried to pull from your restraints to approach her but you couldn't. So you went on, "You know I'd never ever do that to you, Wanda. . . ."

The redhead only chuckled as she walked closer towards you until it would only take one step before you were within her reach. "Never?" she playfully mocked. Bending her body, she then leaned her face towards you and her perfume that you had grown to miss suddenly infiltrated your nostrils.

You closed your eyes as you savored the moment, breathing everything about her even when all you wanted to do at that moment was open your eyes and stare at her all day.

"Tell me, Y/n," Wanda went on, seemingly unbothered by your behavior, "If Pietro didn't go after you when he found out you had sex with someone else, would you have spared him?"

You finally opened your eyes and all you could see was red in hers, too much fury and hatred swirling within her orbs. "Wands-"

"And you know what's worse?"

"Wanda, please-"

"What's worse is that you were not just having sex with someone else, but my half sister Monica," she spat with gritted teeth as she cupped your chin harshly, her fingernails digging through your skin.

"Wanda, I can explain-" Her hand went to cover your mouth aggressively as she shushed you out.

"But it doesn't matter now, Y/n," Wanda sneered on. "Because I'm going to finally . . . kill," she then traced her fingers from your temple down to your cheek, "you."

What surprised you was what she did next. Wanda stepped closer before she straddled your lap. "Although, there's no harm in seeking fun before doing the deed. . . ."

The redhead pulled her hands off your face then hurriedly unbuckled your pants, the zipper torn apart as quickly. Her hand went to cup your cock, suddenly throbbing and pulsing due to the familiarity, as if it only answered to her and only her.

Fuck.

"Tell me, Y/n, does Monica touch you the way I touch you?"

A moan managed to escape from your throat as she grabbed your cock in one hand and began leisurely pumping, turning it hard in just a matter of seconds.

Wanda would always have that effect on you. Before you could complain that Wanda shouldn't be doing what she was doing, that her followers could literally walk in and catch her, she was already lining your head up to her entrance by pulling her underwear to the side.

Your eyes could only roll to the back of your head as she began to go down.

"Fuck, Wands, you're so tight-"

A slap. Your head turned more than an angle, making you realize you probably lost a tooth in the process.

Wanda continued bouncing on top of you, her eyes glaring with lust and fury you hadn't seen before. "Does this turn you on, Y/n? Having sex before I kill you?"

You chuckled softly. "It would be the best way to die."

Wanda ignored you and your adorable charm. You betrayed her. She loved you so much. And you betrayed her.

But none of that mattered now, because she finally found you after months of searching, she'd finally get the revenge she wanted. Being the daughter of the most wanted high profile criminal in the city, and having given a group of her own, she took traitors to heart. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. That was what her father taught her.

You could have just cheated on her. But no. You killed her brother too.

But Wanda's train of thoughts stopped when she felt herself getting close. Her hands ended up on your shoulders, clutching as she continued on rolling her hips. You would always feel so good inside her. No one would compare. In fact, Wanda didn't dare have any affair since you. And she hated you for ruining her like that.

Wanda whimpered, her head buried into your neck as she fastened her pace. You must have lost it, but you knew better than to challenge her. She would always come first. You loved her so much.

When you felt her clench around you and her movement getting sloppy and disorganized, you decided to help her by thrusting your hips towards her, meeting her rhythm as if your bodies were meant to dance like this forever.

It didn't take five seconds before Wanda came moaning into your ear, her body shuddering in waves and waves of extreme pleasure. Wanda wouldn't admit it but you were the best thing that happened to her.

You didn't get to finish, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was Wanda. You only laughed breathily, "God, I've missed that. . . . I miss you. . . ."

When your eyes finally met as Wanda began to pull away, it seemed like it was just yesterday when you and her made love for the first time.

"It's a sad thing, though," Wanda said, her breathing still ragged as she pulled off from your cock, making you moan from the loss. "That I have to kill you tonight." She grabbed something behind her back and a handgun was immediately pointed at you. She pulled the hammer, ready to shoot, and aimed it at your still rigid length. She laughed. "Look at it missing me too, Y/n. . . . I'd probably chop it off from your body and give it to Monica."

"Wanda, it's not-"

Then she pointed the gun at your forehead instead, pressing it so close you could feel the coldness from the muzzle. This was it. This was how you were going to die.

"I-I love you, Wanda, you know, I'd never. . . ."

A tear slipped from her eye. And all you wanted to do at that moment was to hug her.

There was a moment of silence before she eventually lowered her gun. Wanda couldn't do it. She still loved you so much.

"Why did you have to kill him, Y/n? To cheat on me with my half sister is a lot. But you didn't have to kill my own twin brother?"

There was a sudden explosion inside the room before you could explain, boulders of cement and shards of glass thrown in the air. The explosion was huge that Wanda almost stumbled down and lost her bearing. You somehow managed to get yourself out of the now broken chair when it flipped to the ground.

You tried to escape after pulling your pants up but Wanda was quicker, her hand yanking you back towards her before she punched your face with the grip of the gun.

"You're making it easy for me to kill you," Wanda warned.

There was another explosion which sent you both flying. This time the place was covered with smoke that visibility was scarce.

Wanda felt someone grab her from behind. It was one of your followers, a kobun. Groaning in frustration when you managed to escape from her grasp once again, Wanda didn't notice the punch that sent her kneeling to the ground, hugging her stomach from the pain.

Fighting ensued everywhere, Wanda's followers against yours. Bullets against blades. The thing about your group, the Yakuzas, most of them were Samurai. Without her weapon, the redhead was helpless avoiding the attacks of one of your followers holding out a katana. She was hoping she could get away and buy her time before someone would notice she needed help but her back suddenly hit against the wall, and she was trapped with nothing to do.

Wanda shielded her body from the attack that was heading her way, closing her eyes as she prayed it would be all over soon anyway.

But nothing came.

"Fuck." Wanda opened her eyes when she heard you gasp in pain. The edge of the sword went through your chest and you could see red forming around the center of your shirt. It was a beautiful shirt. Wanda gave it to you on your birthday.

"Oyabun, forgive me, I didn't mean it. . . ," the kobun said, fear in his eyes.

You wanted to tell him it was okay but only blood gushed out of your mouth, dripping its way down to your chin and neck. You fell down unto your knees and looked at the wound. The kobun immediately got scared and ran away.

"Why did you do that? Did you think I'd forgive you if you saved me from getting hurt?" Wanda kneeled before you, shakily assessing the damage, afraid she'd hurt you more if she so touched your body.

But before Wanda could help you, Natasha came and pulled her away. "We have to leave. Everyone here thinks you killed Y/n."

When Wanda was ushered towards the car before they left the scene, all she could think about was your bloody self and how she was about to forgive you for what you did. She shouldn't feel guilty. She was actually more mad than guilty, because now that you're finally gone, what else was she supposed to do with her life?

What she didn't expect was the ghost of Pietro in her office once arriving back at their headquarters.

"Pietro?" Natasha exclaimed in surprise. So he wasn't a ghost.

"Hey, Nat!" he greeted with guilty eyes, then towards Wanda. "Wanda, sis! It's been ages since the last time I saw you."

"How- . . . how-"

Wanda was completely losing it, as if nothing was making sense anymore.

"Okay," Pietro went on, stopping Wanda from hyperventilating. "I visited because I think this fight between you and Y/n had gotten out of hand. Father said the Yakuzas are infiltrating the camp bases. And I just want you two to make up."

There was a cough in the background, making their presence known. "Heya there, sister!"

It was Monica. Wanda's eyes immediately went red.

"You!"

But before Wanda could attack her half sister, Pietro stopped the redhead by her arm. "Wanda, stop! It's not what you think."

Wanda only grew confused.

"Y/n didn't cheat on you with Monica."

"What?"

"That night you saw Y/n and Monica together in the bedroom. . . . It wasn't Y/n who was doing it with Mon. . . it was. . . ." His voice trailed off, looking at Monica, who linked their hands together.

Connecting the dots, Wanda could only do was freeze on the spot.

"What?!" It was Natasha who reacted badly. "You and Monica? Your own sister?"

Pietro corrected, "Half sister. . . . And this is exactly why we didn't tell you. I mean you wouldn't approve of us. But it just happened, sis. . . . Y/n just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I was . . . hiding in the closet when you saw the scene."

"But Y/n, Y/n killed you-"

"Almost killed me," he argued. "She wanted me to tell the truth to you so you two would get back together. . . . But Mon and I weren't ready at that time. . . . So, Y/n and I started a fight. The rumor of me dying spread like wildfire. I just took advantage of it so Monica and I could elope together."

"You made me want to kill Y/n for- . . . for this?!" Wanda was going insane.

Pietro only sighed. "Come on, sis. . . . It's not like you were actually going to kill her, right . . . ?"

There was only utter silence as tears began erupting from Wanda's eyes. Y/n. Detka. The love of her life.

Pietro glanced at Natasha for help, who was avoiding his eyes as she muttered, "Y/n's dead. . . . She died protecting Wanda against her own followers. . . ."

Wanda fell on her knees as she broke out into a sob. But even when not a blade had gotten through her chest, it still felt like her heart was taken away from her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE :

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#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda #wanda angst #mobster #enemies to lovers #g!p reader

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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something in the back of my mind

Eddie died.

They all know it. Robin and Nancy and Steve all checked for a pulse. Steve tried CPR while Dustin shouted and sobbed that he was going to hurt him, even as Nancy said in a voice that was much, much too soft that he was gone. Steve had Eddie’s blood on him for days, under his nails, in the creases of his palms, on his lips and chin and cheeks from trying to give Eddie the breath from his own lungs. When he finally washed it away, he fell into grief all over again, watching it run across the tile floor, down the drain.

It took him a while to give up on the CPR. It might have been hours. He doesn’t know. He only stopped when Robin physically grabbed his hands and jerked them away, and he could barely even see through his tears, but he could hear her well enough.

He’s dead, Steve. He’s gone.

He left Eddie’s bandana on his chest. He didn’t know why he did it, why he carefully, tenderly pulled it off Eddie’s head as Robin and Nancy and Dustin watched, and folded it around his hand before placing it just over where Eddie’s heart should have been beating. He’d stopped there for a few moments, just looking at Eddie’s face. It would have looked like he was sleeping if he hadn’t been torn apart. Steve fixed his hair for him, fluffed it out and smoothed it down, barely noticing when it became streaked red with blood. And then he carefully took the guitar pick hanging from Eddie’s neck, and the ring on his left hand. (He gave the guitar pick to Dustin the next day as they sat in the hospital outside Max’s room. Dustin was all out of tears by then, but he took it with a trembling hand and clutched it to his chest, his whole body shaking. Steve kept the ring for himself. He knows they all saw it on his left index finger, but no one said anything about it.)

They had to leave him there. There was no way to get him back up through the ceiling. Dustin was sobbing the whole time, crying that they had to go back, that they couldn’t just leave him there. That he needed a nice grave, or to be cremated, that they needed to love him. That it was cruel. Steve had steeled himself, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and telling him It’s not possible, Dustin. We did what we could. And Dustin had just fallen against him, holding him so tightly it hurt, crying so hard Steve could hear his voice become rough. He held him. He got Eddie’s blood in his hair.

When Steve got home, he fell apart.

There was no one around. Everyone was at home or the hospital, safe and healing, and he was…

Covered in blood. On his kitchen floor, sobbing and screaming and clutching at his shirt because it was suffocating him. Until the white tile was covered with Upside Down dirt and grime, with dark blood and tears.

It wasn’t fair, he didn’t think. Eddie had only just gotten involved. He had only wanted to help Chrissy, and now he’s in hell, bloody and eaten and raw, all alone.

If Steve had been there, maybe he would have been fine. If Steve had been there, maybe he could have fought the bats off, and Eddie would have gotten off with the same injuries Steve has. If Steve had been there, maybe he could have convinced Eddie to run. If Steve had been there If Steve had been there If Steve had been there If Steve had been there If Steve had been there

It wasn’t until two weeks later that he realised why he was grieving Eddie the way he was. Why he slept at night with Eddie’s battle vest in his arms, why he found himself staring at the ring on his finger for hours on end, why he saw Eddie’s eyes late at night when he was sleeping. (Those are good nights. All the other nights come with demon dogs and bats and blood and flashing lights. Often with one of the kids lying, unmoving, eyes staring up at the red sky, blank. Gone.)

When he realised, he couldn’t even cry. He just held Eddie’s vest tighter and closed his eyes against the dim glow of the overhead light. And wished they could have had a little more time. Wished he had kissed Eddie before they parted. Wished he had made Eddie promise to come back to him. Wished and wished and wished.

The others began to heal.

Max can’t see. Her legs are still healing, but her arms are okay aside from the occasional burst of pain, and Lucas barely lets her out of his sight. The first time he leaves her hospital room to go home, he has a panic attack. Erica helps him through with Robin, who always seems to know just what to say, what to do.

Dustin began to recover with the help of a therapist that Owens sets him up with. Steve sees her too. She’s nice, and helpful, even if Steve doesn’t feel much different than he did that first night without Eddie. When she asked how long he knew Eddie, he said quietly Not long enough. She seemed to get it.

Eddie is dead.

Everyone knows it.

The fact settled in Steve’s chest like a brick of ice that refuses to melt. He got used to it. Just like he got used to wet pillowcases under his face and Eddie’s vest resting on his chest in the morning.

Which is why he falls heavily to the floor when, two months after Eddie’s death, he hears Owens’s voice say, crackly over the phone,

“We’ve recovered Eddie Munson. He’s alive.”

• ───────────────── •

They’d gone down to try to recover his body while checking that everything was in order in the Upside Down. For Wayne.

He was breathing.

Still unconscious, unmoved, covered in dry, matted blood and torn clothing and dirt streaked with tears, but the bandana on his chest was moving up and down, and one of the men in the yellow hazmat suits said in a voice too loud, Holy shit, he’s alive.

And he was.

He is.

In a secret room at Hawkins Memorial Hospital, sitting in waiting while Owens talks to everyone in another secret room. This room has coffee that no one is drinking, and comfortable-looking chairs that no one is sitting in. They’re all listening intently to Owens, almost leaning closer to him in concentration, some of their eyes tear-filled.

He tells them.

They can go see him, but he won’t be what they’re expecting. He’s not the same Eddie.

No memory past meeting Chrissy in the woods. No good memory of anyone involved in the whole Upside Down business, only the vaguest recollections of some kids in the Hellfire Club. He’s scarred and scared and trying his hardest to not be, to pretend everything is fine. Be gentle is what Owens tells them. Don’t scare him, or startle him, be slow and patient with him when he doesn’t remember anything.

The kids go in first.

Robin and Nancy go behind them, lingering in the doorway.

But Steve stays behind, in that room with the coffee and the chairs, eyeing Owens.

“You’re not telling us something,” he says when the others are out of earshot, and Owens turns back to him with this resigned look in his eye. He shuts the door quietly.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Steve?” he says lightly, his tone too casual, too friendly for this all. Steve sits anyway.

“What’s going on?” he asks tentatively, his heart still reeling with He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive.

“You were actually the person I wanted to speak to about this,” Owens says, sitting heavily in a chair near Steve. He pauses, looking at Steve, analyzing him for a moment. “You remember… We spoke about your side effects?”

“Yeah,” Steve says suspiciously.

It was the bats. Nothing bad, he had to assure Robin after his third appointment with Owens. Just weird things that didn’t happen before the bites. Things he couldn’t do but can now. Hear things from seemingly miles away. (The kids can’t sneak up on him anymore, no matter how quiet they are. It’s like he can hear their hearts beating.) Move things he would never have been able to move before. (Which he discovered after slamming his car door shut while angry and shattering the window.) See in the dark. (This one frustrates the others the most. (Except when he breaks things.) The kids complain about how creepy it is to hear him skulking around in the dark during sleepovers, and Robin complains that she can’t see in the dark too. It’s unfair, quite frankly. He just tells her she should be glad she wasn’t maimed by demon bats.)

“We believe Eddie has something similar,” Owens says slowly, carefully. “Just… A heavier dose, in a way, of the bat venom.”

Steve blinks.

“Explain?”

“Well. You know about his blood loss.”

Steve’s stomach twists. Eddie’s bloodied limbs and chest and face flash in his mind, followed by the blood running down the drain.

“Yeah,” he says weakly, feeling sick.

“When we tried a blood transfusion it didn’t work,” Owens says. “But he woke up. And… Started drinking the blood.”

Steve blinks, confusion momentarily replacing his sickness.

“Like… Like a vampire?”

“Well.” Owens tilts his head, shrugging lightly. “Yes.”

“What… the fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Steve lowers his head to the table in front of him, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Owens waits for him.

“He’s okay, though,” he says after a few moments, lifting his head and looking at him. “Right?”

Owens’s eyes lock with his intently, his face hardening with almost uncomfortable sincerity.

“He will be.”

Steve stays in there, scratching at the wood of the table as Owens talks to him. Tells him about what Eddie needs: blood, fresh or frozen, which they’d learned through carefully monitored experiments, and endless, gentle support. He’s so confused, Owens says, his brows furrowing the first exhibition of earnest emotion that Steve’s ever seen. He always seems so put together, so professional, that it makes Steve’s chest clench.

Owens brings him a cup of coffee. Black. The way Steve likes it. Steve takes the cup, and he watches the coffee ripple as his hands tremble. He sets it down after a moment.

They told Eddie about the Upside Down. He doesn’t remember any of it. The vines, the bats. Nothing. Steve covers his face as Owens talks, taking slow, measured breaths to try and stop his eyes from stinging.

“So what do I do?” he asks when Owens finishes.

“What do you mean?”

“You said…” He pauses to clear his throat, blinking his eyes and shifting in his seat. “You said you wanted to tell me about his… condition. Or whatever. Why me? What do I do?”

“You have some experience similar to his,” Owens says gently. Steve can practically feel the teeth of the bats in his skin for a moment. The serrated tails digging into his neck, into his palms and fingers.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing the memories away with a tiny shake of his head. He does that a lot.

“And you seem to instinctively take up the role of protector,” Owens adds lightly. It makes Steve laugh. Just a little.

“Yeah.”

“He’ll be staying here for observation,” Owens says. “And then he’ll need somewhere to stay.”

“He can stay with me,” Steve says a little too quickly. His face burns, but Owens smiles softly.

“Thought you’d say that.”

He runs into Robin in the hallway on his way to Eddie’s room. (Room 236. He can’t stop repeating it in his head.)

“How is he?” Steve asks weakly. She sways forward and pulls him into a tight hug. “Like that, huh?”

“He’s confused,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “About everything. But he’s, like, doing that thing where he pretends he’s fine even though we all know he’s not.”

Steve sighs. His hands are shaking. He presses them to her back.

“He doesn’t remember us.”

“Owens said he wouldn’t.”

“He, like…” She sighs. They sway. He tightens his arms around her. She likes to be hugged tightly. “Says he recognizes us. Like he knows he knows us. But he didn’t know any of our names, or how he knows us.”

He pulls away and presses his forehead to hers, running his hands down her arms firmly as she exhales slowly.

“Was… Kinda scary.”

“‘S okay,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

He can feel her trembling. He pulls away to press a kiss to her forehead, letting her fall against him as he presses his cheek to her forehead, feeling her breath on his neck.

“Kept seeing all that blood,” Robin says weakly. His throat tightens. He sees that blood almost every night.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Steve whispers.

“I know. I know.”

He sighs, closing his eyes and swaying with her, pulling her around gently in a way that makes her exhale sharply. Her arms wrap around his waist.

“I’m nervous,” he says after a moment. “I’m gonna cry when I see him, for sure.”

“Oh, we all did,” she says, and he knows without looking at her that she’s doing that thing she does, staring wide-eyed, blankly at nothing. “So many tears. He had no idea why. I mean, he kind of did, they told him that he… you know. But it was kinda weird. But he’s also weird, so.”

He scoffs against her head.

“Didn’t even question it when Dustin almost killed him again by tackling him in a hug,” she says. Steve smiles, closing his eyes.

“Funny.”

“If I don’t laugh, I’ll… break down in tears, so.” She lifts her head, looking into his eyes. “‘S gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he sighs.

She reaches up to hold his face, squishing his cheeks between her palms.

“I can tell you’re still freaking out. Stop it.”

“It’s not entirely within my control, Robbie.” His voice is muffled, his lips squished.

“Stop freaking out. Deep breath.”

He inhales, raising his eyebrows, and she does the same, squishing his cheeks harder and suppressing a smile.

“Fishy.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Hello?”

Steve looks over Robin’s shoulder at Nancy’s voice, and Robin looks back without removing her hands from Steve’s face. Nancy is raising an eyebrow at them. Her cheeks are rosy. She’s been crying.

They all have, Steve notices as they all appear behind her. Erica is sniffling, wiping her nose with the end of her sleeve, holding onto Dustin’s arm.

“I’m emotionally preparing him,” Robin says. Her cheeks flush pink, and Steve snorts, poking her side. She yelps and lets go, smacking his cheek lightly as he snickers.

“Get outta here,” he says, looking at Dustin and lifting his chin, silently asking how he is. Dustin gives him a watery smile. Steve’s heart aches.

“You staying behind?” Nancy asks as Robin approaches them, reaching to touch Max’s head gently, fondly.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I was talking with Owens, I’m just…”

She nods, understanding.

Dustin hugs him. He’s crying again, his shoulders shaking as Steve presses his cheek to the top of his head. He feels little. Like he’s aged backwards, just a little boy again, crying into Steve’s chest.

Steve kisses the top of his head when they part.

He watches them go, lingering by a window and watching them all, watching them half-hug each other, hold each other close. Dustin is still crying. Mike pulls him into a hug outside the van.

Steve exhales slowly. His heart is beating too fast. His hands are shaking.

He wanders down the halls slowly, meandering, taking slow breaths, letting his lungs fill and empty as he counts in his head.

One, two, three, four.

His therapist calls it combat breathing. (He’s going to have to tell her about this. Seeing Eddie.) He hates that phrase, even if it’s accurate. He’s never been to combat. Not combat combat. Neither has Dustin, or Max, or Erica, or any of them. And yet.

They’ve all got it. The flashbacks. The dreams. The days they can barely get out of bed, or feed themselves. Sometimes Dustin can’t talk.

Steve stops in his tracks when he sees it.

Room 236.

He’s stuck. In the middle of the hallway. His breath catches in his throat, and he chokes a little bit, exhaling hard as he rubs his hand across his chest harshly. He only moves when a nurse looking down at her clipboard bumps into him, apologising breathily as she briskly passes by him, and he moves closer to the door. The numbers are metallic, gleaming in the too-bright fluorescent lights of the hallway.

He approaches tentatively, like he’s trying to hide, until he can see the window.

And Eddie.

He’s sitting on the bed, arms wrapped in bandages, wearing a hospital gown, looking down at a book in his lap. His curls are tied into a messy bun at the top of his head, a few escaping and brushing his neck. Steve hears him huff and watches as he tries to brush them away, but after a moment he just rips the hair tie out of his hair and reties it all, dragging his fingers through it so hard he catches tangles.

He looks away from the book, across the room at the wall, finishes his hair, and drops his arms heavily, sighing. Steve can hear it.

He’s pale. He’s almost glowing.

But the marks around his neck are dark, almost burgundy. And his cheek is mangled, part of it covered with a bandage, red and purple and pink. Steve aches.

He turns away, pressing his back to the wall next to the door, closing his eyes as his lungs constrict. He takes a slow breath, pressing his hands to his face as Eddie’s bloodied face flashes in his mind. He remembers how it smelled. His throat hurts.

It takes a while for him to breathe properly. When he gets it, he exhales sharply, huffing, pinching the bridge of his nose, and his skin tightens when he hears Eddie’s voice say, “Hello?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, scolding himself, remembering that Eddie has the same shit he does, the damn hearing and sight and fucking everything.

So he exhales again, turning around and taking the door handle, pushing the door handle before he can talk himself out of it.

“Hi,” he says quietly, stepping inside, watching as Eddie’s eyes widen. “Sorry, I was just…” He shakes his head, unsure of what he’s trying to say, stopping. The door closes behind him.

Eddie stares.

Steve hurts.

Eddie’s almost gaunt, too thin, haggard. His eyes are still shining.

“Woah,” Eddie says, staring, wide-eyed.

“Woah?” Steve questions, forcing himself to inhale. He feels like he’s on fire.

“You, uhm. Sorry.” Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. His book falls shut in his lap. “I don’t… remember.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, shaking his head, pushing his trembling hands into his pockets. “No, Owens said. It’s… It’s okay.”

“Are we friends?” Eddie asks in a small voice.

Steve blinks. His eyes burn.

“Not really,” he says weakly. “We could have been, I think. If we…” His throat tightens around his words and he pauses, swallowing, blinking. “Had more time.”

Eddie nods, unblinking.

For a while.

Steve stares back, holding tears back.

“What?” he asks after another moment, scoffing, laughing lightly, uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, finally blinking. “Just… Wondering how I could forget a face like that.”

Steve blinks. His cheeks burn.

“Oh.” He exhales, dropping his shoulders. “Okay.”

Eddie stares again. Steve lets himself stare back, watching as Eddie’s eyes narrow so slightly Steve almost doesn’t notice.

“What?” Steve asks again, whispering it.

“You look familiar,” Eddie says. “Like…” He pauses for a long stretched moment. “Like a song I’ve heard once. But don’t know the words to. You know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again. “Yeah. I mean, no, but–”

Eddie snorts, gesturing toward the chair next to his bed.

“C’mere.”

Steve takes a breath, looking at the chair like it’s about to come to life and eat him, hesitating. But he sits down heavily, staring at the floor for a moment before he looks back at Eddie.

Who’s still looking at him.

He looks almost awestruck, eyes wide and shining, almost curious.

“You don’t remember my name,” Steve says.

Eddie shakes his head before he stops, eyes narrowing again, brows furrowing. He turns a little bit toward him, setting the book aside, his fingers tangling in his lap.

“It starts with an S,” he says after a moment.

Steve’s chest clenches. He nods.

Eddie’s face lights up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie does it again, that thoughtful stare, thinking hard, like he’s trying to use telepathy.

“...Sam?”

Steve smiles, relaxing a little bit, shaking his head.

“Simon?’’

Another shake.

“Samuel– No, that’s just Sam again. Sean?”

“No,” Steve says, laughing lightly.

“Shawn? With a W. It’s different.”

Steve laughs a little harder, scrunching his nose and shaking his head. He can tell Eddie’s doing this on purpose, being silly just to make him laugh, but it works anyway.

“Fuck. Sawyer?”

“No.”

“Spencer?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Uhm.” He pauses, thinking, his eyes searching Steve’s face like he’s going to find his name written in his skin, spelled out in his moles. “S-S-Sebastian?”

Steve shakes his head, smiling.

“Jesus, how many S names are there?”

“You want me to just tell you?”

“No. Shane?”

A shake.

“Uhm.” He stares again, scrunching his nose and shrugging to himself. “Sunny.”

Steve laughs, giggles, shaking his head.

“Good God. Uhm. Smith.”

“That’s a last name.”

“Maybe your parents are weird, I don’t know.”

Steve drops his head, laughing. When he looks back up, Eddie is smiling at him, his expression soft. Too soft.

“You want a hint?” Steve asks, ignoring it.

“A little one.”

“Uh.” Steve exhales, relaxing into the chair. Eddie moves closer, his legs crossed, tugging the blanket with him. Steve tears his eyes away, looking at the ground as he thinks. “Five letters.”

“Oh, hangman?”

Steve nods.

Eddie is grinning. Steve loves his smile. There isn’t any blood in his teeth, and it makes his cheeks squish up, makes his eyes squint, makes those perfect lines form in his skin. Steve lets himself gaze as Eddie looks up at some random spot across the room blankly.

“Five letters,” Eddie repeats, his eyes jumping around, envisioning the lines. “Starts with S.”

“Mhmm.”

“...A.”

“No A.”

Eddie lifts a hand and draws a circle in the air. Steve smiles.

“E?”

“Two Es.”

Eddie’s eyebrows fly up and his eyes jump around again, the Es finding their places before he gasps, jumping and grabbing at Steve.

“Steve!”

“Yeah,” Steve says, laughing, his skin lighting up again at the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him.

“Steve,” Eddie says again excitedly, beaming brightly, shaking Steve’s shoulders. “Steve, Steve, Steve–”

Steve is giggling again. His hands find Eddie’s forearms, holding him back. His skin is cold.

“That bring anything back?” he asks when Eddie stops shaking him. Eddie’s smile falters, but it doesn’t fall. He’s still grinning at him, staring intently at him.

“No,” he says. “‘S just nice to have a name to put to a face. I think Sunny is nice, too, though.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head and letting his hands fall. Eddie is closer. Close enough that Steve can see the faint lines in his skin, that he could count his eyelashes. Eddie stares back, almost smiling, his expression light and almost careless, like he isn’t covered in bandages.

“Steve.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. Too softly. He didn’t mean to do that. But Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, just tilting his head like he’s analyzing Steve the way he is Eddie.

His eyes catch on Steve’s neck and he tilts his head the other way like a curious puppy, leaning closer and narrowing his eyes. He lifts a hand before Steve can say anything, reaching up and touching his neck lightly, tracing his scars.

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Didn’t really get it as bad as you, though.”

Eddie smiles softly, still looking, tracing so lightly that Steve almost shivers. His fingers hover over his throat, tracing a line down it, and Steve swallows nervously.

“They told me,” Eddie says quietly. “About the Upside Down and everything. About the bats.”

Steve blinks hard, staring at him as he looks at Steve’s scar.

“Pretty wild, isn’t it?” he says. His voice is quiet. If he speaks louder, it might break.

“Unbelievable,” Eddie says. “But…” He shrugs, sighing, fingertips still touching Steve’s neck. They’re not on his scar anymore, instead tracing a line in a pattern that Steve recognizes at his moles. “The blood and everything. I don’t know if Owen’s told you about that.” His eyes meet Steve’s, and Steve blinks tears back, hoping Eddie doesn’t notice them. He nods.

“He did.”

“You too?”

“Not that. But the other stuff. The… hearing. And you can see in the dark, can’t you?”

Eddie nods, cracking a small smile.

“‘S nice to not be the only one.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie is quiet. Still looking at Steve. His fingers are twisting in his lap, fidgeting with his rings absentmindedly.

“So it’s all true.”

Steve nods.

And then his eyes are welling with tears, and Eddie’s eyes are widening, and Steve chokes out, “I left you there.”

Eddie shakes his head, shifting to face him, looking at him intently.

“No, Steve, you…”

“I left you down there,” Steve says weakly as tears finally fall down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Eddie, I wanted– I wanted to bring you home, I– I–”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Eddie says gently, reaching out to touch Steve’s shoulder, holding him firmly. “You– Steve. C’mon.”

Steve gasps for breath, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward to hide his face.

“You did everything you could, man,” Eddie tells him, pulling at his shoulder, and Steve falls forward, a sob ripping its way out of his chest, and then he’s actually dying, because Eddie is pulling him into a hug, whispering quietly to him. “‘S not your fault, Steve.”

“I wasn’t there,” Steve chokes. His face is pressing into Eddie’s neck, and he draws his hands up to clutch at his hospital gown. “I wasn’t there for you, and you– you weren’t breathing, and I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie says again, more firmly this time, leaving no room for argument. He shifts to take Steve’s face between his hands.

Steve’s chest aches.

He melts.

He exhales, closing his eyes, and Eddie’s thumbs wipe away tears that fall, and Steve didn’t realise this is what he’s been missing. Eddie’s hands on his skin, his whispers just reaching Steve’s ears.

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.

A sob rips out of Steve’s chest, and Eddie pulls him closer, tugging him onto the bed and carefully pulling his head to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. His fingers are pressing into Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp, swaying with him, like he’s doing everything he can to make Steve feel better.

“God, Steve,” Eddie breathes when Steve’s crying slows, smoothing his hand over the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, pulling away, avoiding his eyes. “Jesus, you don’t even know who I am, I’m—”

“You’re Steve,” Eddie says softly, grabbing at his arms and tugging, keeping him from getting up. Steve exhales shakily, his lip trembling. “You…”

Eddie pauses, his fingers tightening on Steve’s arms. Steve can hear his heart beating.

“I don’t… remember you,” Eddie says slowly, carefully, thinking. His eyes are trained on Steve’s neck like he’s looking at his scars. “But I… I remember how you made me feel.”

Steve swallows, looking down at Eddie’s hands. He’s not wearing his rings, but Steve can see the indents of where they belong. His nails are trimmed, and clean, and Steve wonders if a nurse washed the blood away before or after he woke up.

“How did I make you feel?” he asks quietly, almost whispering.

Eddie is quiet, his jaw working, and Steve shifts to hold his arms back. His skin is cold. Steve’s thumb brushes over the bats inked into his forearm, gazing at them, wondering if Eddie looks at them differently now.

“I don’t know if I can say it,” Eddie whispers.

Steve’s stomach twists.

“You can say it,” he whispers. “Please. Say it.”

Eddie closes his eyes, sliding his hands to meet Steve’s.

“Think I… might have. Maybe. Could have. Had a crush on you.”

Steve closes his eyes. His fingers tighten on Eddie’s arms, and he exhales.

“Really?” he whispers.

He opens his eyes when Eddie doesn’t answer, and Eddie looks like he might cry, eyes wide and shining. A jolt goes through Steve when he sees them. Real. In front of him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “I don’t…” He shakes his head, hesitating. “Remember, like… Why. I guess. But you…”

He smiles a little bit, softly, almost fondly, and he lifts a hand to touch Steve’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his skin. Steve’s chest squeezes, and he can’t breathe, but he doesn’t really mind, because Eddie’s gaze is soft, and warm.

“You’re even a pretty crier,” Eddie murmurs almost absently like he doesn’t even realise he’s saying it.

Steve’s face crumbles, and he falls forward against Eddie, who catches him and mumbles a soft, “C’mere,” and pulls him closer, until Steve shifts farther onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist carefully.

“Does that hurt?” Steve asks, conscious of the stitches and bandages and tape under Eddie’s hospital gown, but Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m on so many painkillers right now, man,” he says quietly, making Steve laugh lightly, stretching his legs out slowly. “I’m totally numb.”

They fall into each other, arms wrapped around each other, and Steve’s cheek rests against Eddie’s chest, against his skin where the gown has fallen a little bit. Eddie’s fingers push into Steve’s hair again like that’s where they belong, like he does this every day.

Steve closes his eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest with every breath, on the quiet beating of his heart against Steve’s cheek.

“God, I missed you so much, Eddie,” he says weakly. Because he needs Eddie to know. Eddie’s hand slides up his arm, squeezing.

“‘M right here, Stevie.”

Steve exhales.

Eddie smells like the hospital. Sterile. But the smell of cigarettes and weed still lingers in his hair, and Steve kind of wants to sit up and bury his face in it.

He settles against Eddie’s chest, lulled to sleepiness from Eddie’s hand in his hair, his other hand tracing down his arm.

Until Eddie’s hand rests on his.

“My uncle gave me that ring,” he murmurs. Steve’s stomach drops and his eyes fly open, and he starts to sit up, reaching to take it off.

The ring he’d taken from Eddie’s lifeless hand and scrubbed clean days later, because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing any part of Eddie, even his dry blood.

“Jesus, sorry,” he mutters, face flaming, heart pounding, more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his life, because he was just sobbing into the chest of a boy that has no memory of him at all, and his cheeks still feel tacky from his tears, and Eddie fucking died and he’s the one comforting Steve, and Steve fucking stole his ring off his dead body—

“Don’t be,” Eddie says smoothly, his voice soft. His hand stops Steve’s, grabbing it and pulling him back down against him, twining their fingers. “‘S okay.”

“It’s…” Steve lets him pull him back, stiff, anxious. “I shouldn’t have taken it, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Steve,” Eddie says. “Keep it.”

“But… Your uncle…”

“He won’t mind,” Eddie says softly. “‘S okay.”

Steve hesitates for another moment before he turns and buries his face in Eddie’s chest, taking a shuddering breath.

Eddie says it one more time. Murmurs it. Breathes it.

It’s okay.

Steve believes him.

Eddie hugs him tightly, one hand sliding up to hold the back of his head.

“‘M really tired,” he mumbles. Steve opens his eyes. He must be. Waking up after dying just to find himself ravaged and wounded, learning all the shit he had to learn about the Upside Down, meeting the Party all over again.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, his arms tightening. “I don’t want you to go.” He’s quiet for a moment, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “…Will you stay?”

Steve just presses closer, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck, groaning quietly when Eddie rolls slightly, one arm around Steve’s neck, the other sliding up his arm to his shoulder, pushing his hair back. Steve shivers.

He stays awake after Eddie falls asleep, listening to every breath, to every beat of Eddie’s heart. Feeling Eddie’s fingers twisted in his overgrown hair, feeling his legs pressed up against Steve’s, and Steve kind of wishes he’d worn shorts today so he can feel their skin press, which is probably a weird desire, but what even is weird anymore?

He wants to stay awake there until Eddie wakes up, to be conscious and aware of every second he gets to have with him, but Eddie’s pulse is steady, and his skin is cool against Steve’s, and Steve starts to drift off long before he wants to.

He lets himself, because he can’t move to wake himself up without moving Eddie.

He doesn’t have any bad dreams.

Or good dreams, for that matter. For hours, until a nurse comes in to check on Eddie, Steve’s mind is peacefully, blissfully blank. Empty.

It’s awkward when they both stir to find the nurse looking down at them with a smile. Steve’s face is hot, hotter than it’s ever been, and he knows he must be fucking red as he sits up and detaches from Eddie, but the nurse just asks if they slept okay.

• ───────────────── •

“Steve, how are you today?”

“I’m alright.”

“So… A lot to talk about today.”

“…Yeah.”

“Would you like to talk about that or start like we usually do?”

“Uhm. I guess like we— like we usually do.”

“So how was work this week?”

“Okay. I’m… working on being patient with customers. Even though they’re not patient with me.”

“How are you working on that?”

“Uhm. Deep breaths and everything. Reminding myself that I’m… Like. Not responsible for how they treat me. And that, like… They might be having a shitty day. I don’t know what’s going on with them. ‘S also easier with Robin there.”

“How does Robin help?”

“Makes faces at me behind customers’ backs. Which maybe isn’t very professional, but it’s funny.”

“How’s Robin doing?”

“She’s good. She’s trying to spend more time with her dad, I think it’s going well.”

“And the kids?”

“Good. Mike asked me to teach him to drive. Begrudgingly. I think he just doesn’t want Nancy to teach him.”

“Seems like that makes you happy.”

“I guess.”

“How’s your eating been?”

“Eh. Alright. It’s… easier to eat during the day if I’m… I don’t know. Eating with Robin or bringing the kids lunch and stuff. It’s easier at night.”

“How can you work on that? Getting your nutrition during the day? Just dinner isn’t enough to nourish you.”

“Uh. I guess I could… I don’t know. Bring food with me to work?”

“That sounds like a good idea. What about keeping some in your car, too?”

“I could do that. Like crackers or something. Stuff that won’t go back in the heat.”

“That sounds good. …And how’s your sleeping?”

“…”

“…Steve?”

“Not… great.”

“Nightmares?”

“Sometimes. A lot of the time. But it’s also… Just. I don’t know. ‘S hard to fall asleep.”

“What helps?”

“…Robin sometimes. When she sleeps over, she’ll stay in my bed. ‘S nice to listen to her… breathe.”

“Are your nightmares still the same?”

“…No.”

“When did they change?”

“After… I guess we can’t really avoid talking about it that long.”

“Guess not.”

“...After Eddie came back. That night.”

“Would you like to tell me what happened in it?”

“…I was… in my room. And the— the lights started flickering. It was, uhm. Morse code. I don’t even know Morse code, but I—I recognized it in my dream.”

“Right.”

“It was…”

“…What was it saying?”

“I don’t… remember. But it was Eddie. I just… knew. He was in the Upside Down, trying to– trying to talk to me. Tell me he was alive. And I’d just… left him there. And I– I know he was dead, and it wasn’t my fault, and I did– I did everything I could, but I just…”

“What did you do when you woke up? How did you cope with it?”

“Just… moved on. I think if I— if I lingered on it, or, like, thought about it I would have just… I don’t know.”

“Do you think… maybe burying your emotions might not be the best idea?”

“I know, I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You’re allowed to have feelings, Steve. I know you weren’t allowed when you were little, but you are now. And I know you know it’s unhealthy to suppress them.”

“I know.”

“…What was it like seeing Eddie again?”

“…Sorry.”

“It’s okay to cry, Steve.”

“I know. It was, uhm. I don’t know.”

“…”

“I think I was just, like. Confused. I guess.”

“What was confusing?”

“Just… I don’t know— I mean, I grieved for him. I mourned. And then he… Like, obviously I’m happy he’s back, and I’m— I’m so happy he’s okay, I’m really really happy, I just… Why does it feel like I’m grieving all over again?”

“...Do you think it may have something to do with that he doesn’t remember you?”

“Probably. It’s just… I don’t know. Frustrating. I shouldn’t be grieving him when he’s right there in front of me.”

“Steve, you’re allowed to feel whatever it is that you feel.”

“I know. ...It’s hard being around him. But I also don’t want to leave him.”

“What’s hard?”

“...Remembering. And just… God, the way he looks at me.”

“How does he look at you? Why is it upsetting?”

“He… He looks at me like he remembers me. But also like he’s trying to figure me out. He doesn’t remember me, he told me. But he said that he… remembers how he felt about me.”

“How did he feel about you?”

“...”

“When you told you, whatever it is, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, was it upsetting? Or did it bring you peace?”

“...Both? …I think I’m just tired.”

“Are you letting yourself rest?”

“...I’m trying.”

• ───────────────── •

read the rest on ao3 bc this ended up being over 30k oops lmao

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#cannot believe the word count on this #entirely unintentional i swear #but also im not sorry it was fun to write #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #something in the back of my mind

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artiststarme · 1 year

Text

Exes and Oh’s

Based on a prompt from @nburkhardt and some comments from @i-less-than-three-you. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

Title brought to you by @kissaphobic-kas

~*~*~*~

When Robin told Steve that she and Nancy were dating, he was happy for her. Of course he was, his best friend was finally in a true relationship and he was thrilled that Nancy could be who she needed. He had no reason not to be happy and supportive of them. And yet, there was still something holding him back from giving them his full support.

While it had been literal years since they dated, Nancy had broken his heart. She’d torn it from his chest, trampled all over it, looked at the bottom of her shoe, and called it bullshit. Deep down, Steve was afraid she’d do the same thing to Robin.

Robin was his best friend and he didn’t want to see her hurt. He’d already had to coach her through the disappointment and dejection of losing the potential of dating Vickie and he’d seen how upset she was after that. He couldn’t even imagine how she’d react to getting her heart broken by Nance or how depressed she’d get when Nancy called her bullshit. It had taken Steve months before he could even look at Nancy without feeling his heart break and he certainly didn’t want that for Robin.

With every happy smile he gave them came a look of wariness and after a few weeks, everyone started noticing it.

Robin started creating more distance between them, Nancy started glaring at him when she picked up Robin from work, and even the kids started calling him out on it. Dustin, in particular, made sure to voice his thoughts on the matter.

“You have to move on from Nancy, Steve! She’s with Robin now. You had your chance with both of them and now it’s just pathetic!” Dustin told him one night when he picked him up from DnD. The little bastard had staged some sort of subpar intervention for him.

Steve was not amused and was quick to come to his own defense. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a thing for Nance or Robin. I’m happy for them!”

“Steve, we can see that you still like Nancy but Robin is with her now. You have to get over her,” Lucas said gently. The other kids nodded in agreement and even the other Hellfire guys tilted their heads in agreement. The only kid that didn’t nod or make a nasty remark was surprisingly Mike Wheeler. He had a look of understanding in his eyes like he understood why Steve was hesitant and it was throwing him off.

Steve sputtered at them, unsure of what to say to make them believe that he truly was 100% over Nancy Wheeler. Eddie, as usual, came to his rescue.

“Hey, listen up you little shits. Steve says there’s nothing going on so that means there’s nothing going on. Drop it or your characters are going to take some serious hit points.”

The kids grumbled a little bit but they did drop the subject for the time being. They all shuffled around to collect their items before marching outside to plan yet another ambush on him, probably.

Then there was Eddie. His boyfriend that he’d been dating all summer, the best friend turned boyfriend that no one knew about yet. Steve could tell that he was curious. When wasn’t he? But he was trying his best to be respectful despite the obvious tension between Steve and the rest of the Party. Steve couldn’t help but love him just a little bit more for having his back when no one else did.

Steve mentioned it to Eddie the next day while they were lounging around the Munson’s trailer. “You know I don’t love her still, right? Like Dustin said? That ship has sailed, definitely.”

Eddie’s eyebrow quirked and his face brightened with a cocky smirk. “Yeah Steve, you had my dick in your mouth an hour ago. That ship hasn’t just sailed, it sank to the bottom of the ocean and disintegrated into dust like your heterosexuality. What’s the real issue that’s got you so upset?”

Steve gave him an unimpressed look at his crass but he had a point. Eddie had absolutely nothing to worry about between him and Nancy. He deserved to hear the full story.

“You remember what happened at Tina’s Halloween party?” Eddie nodded. He’d already told Steve in the past that he’d heard the entire train wreck of a conversation through the thin walls of Tina’s house so he’d had a front row seat to their breakup. “Nancy really hurt me. She called our entire relationship bullshit. She called me bullshit! And that really fucked me up for a long time, still does sometimes. I can’t even hear the word ‘bullshit’ without feeling like a failure even still. I just… I don’t want Robin to have to feel like that. You know?”

Eddie thought for a second before he nodded. “You’re worried about her, that’s understandable. Nancy hurt you and she might hurt Robin too. But she might not. And Robin knows the risks, you told her about how Nancy hurt you, right? She knows what she’s getting into and she’s willing to take that chance.”

“Um no, I haven’t told Robin about it.”

Eddie’s head jerked over to him and he looked at him in shock. “Why not? She’s your best friend, why wouldn’t you complain about your crappy ex with her?”

“Well first of all, that crappy ex is her current girlfriend-” Steve started.

“I mean before she started dating her and you know it-”

“Second of all, it’s embarrassing. What was I supposed to tell her? ‘Hey Robs, I wanted to let you know that Nancy broke my heart and hurt my feelings because I was a bad boyfriend and I don’t want her hurting you’? That wouldn't go well.” Steve shook his head. No, he didn’t quite know how to fix things with her but talking about his past heartbreak wasn’t going to do it.

“Stevie, baby. You just have to talk with her and she’ll understand. You guys are Platonic with a capital P soulmates. Just tell her and she’ll understand,” Eddie murmured to him. He kissed the back of Steve’s hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You really don’t care?” Steve asked him.

“Do I care that you’re concerned for your best friend? Stevie, you could be doing so much worse. Caring for your friend isn’t a red flag. I was accused of murder, which is a pretty big red flag, and you’re still with me,” Eddie laughed.

“Well that’s because you didn’t do it!” Steve protested.

“Steve, you could do anything and I would still love you,” Eddie told him earnestly.

“What if I actually killed someone?”

“Then we’d have to bury the body and then move because my reputation can’t handle any more murder accusations.”

What was Steve supposed to do in response to that besides kiss him?

He did end up talking to Robin a few hours after his talk with Eddie. There were tears, hugs, and a particularly memorable shovel talk between Steve and Nancy. Everything went back to normal and it stayed like that until Mike Wheeler walked in on Steve and Eddie making out. Then, the tentative understanding that existed between them flew right out the window.

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#Steve told Nancy that if she hurt Robin he would steal one of her guns and shoot her with it #she told him that if he even tried to touch one of her guns she would shoot to kill #Robin and Eddie watched them like a tennis match until Nancy started threatening Steve about his relationship with Eddie #Then Eddie conveniently disappeared through the back door #I'm too tired to proofread this- if you find a typo let me know #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #hellfire

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