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bitchimasnake-sss · 1 month

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Imagine telling op guys who has a crush on you, that you want to sleep with them. You just plop down next to them cuddle into them and fall asleep. It's just hem turning red and trying to calm down their thoughts

hehe, this is legit so cute. (tweaked the prompt to be a little more suggestive than just thoughts in the end.)

not a dream ft. the monster trio!

set-up: as anon asked! you happened to utter five simple words, "can i sleep with you?" to the op boys (who have a crush crush on you). now these idiots are contemplating if they'd make it out alive.

warnings: includes nsfw thoughts!! no actual things happen but the guys are thinking very very perverted shit, so, if not comfortable please skip!!!

luffy:

💗 you know luffy. do you think luffy— the guy who clings to everyone, doesn't know the word "personal" and "space", who will probably hug you even if you threatened to punch him— will really mind if you told him you wanted to sleep with him? fuck no. even if you stood in front of him with a "i like you, i wanna sleep with you" in a suggestive way, he would say something along the lines of "awh, i like you too. let's sleep."

💗 but well, this was different. cause he liked you. so when you decided to show up at his door after dinner with a cranky look, he was both confused and intrigued. "what's wrong with ya?" the captain mumbled as you sat next to him on the bed. "chopper and ussop. ugghhh." you groaned, "they're doing some stupid shit next door and making so much noise. there is no possible way i can sleep there. and im sure nobody else will let me crash with them tonight in their room." luffy would have probably leapt up and gone to join the other two fools had you not sprawled out next to him. you gave him a tired smile, "so, can i sleep with you?" 💗you hadn't even waited for an answer. mindlessly, you draped a hand over his torso and snuggled into his chest. he pulled you towards himself on instinct. this was normal. yeah. hugging a crewate. yeah. totally normal. atleast for him. then why was his heart beating so fast? mouth going dry? why was sweat clinging uncomfortably to his back although he knew the night air was frigid? 💗you shifted and your chest brushed against his. luffy swallowed wantonly as you shifted again. and then one more time. trying to find the most comfortable position, he guessed. mechanically, you pushed yourself further against him. and this motherfucker went as stiff as a washboard. "luffy?" you mumbled against his skin before tracing your eyes upward. from this position, your doe-eyes bore into his, "you don't mind right? it's just really cold, sorry." how could he mind? your soft body was against his. your fingers drummed faint melodies against his back and your hair smelled like some floral scented shampoo. every time you breathed out, the warm air caressed him and goosebumps painted his hands. he felt your peaked chest brush against his again and he almost swallowed his own tongue. "luffy?" you asked again, your voice saccharine. and he vaguely wondered how would the same voice sound if he tore open that flimsy top your were wearing and held your soft skin against his palm. or if he took the courage enough to dip his fingers below the waistband of your pajamas and felt you up. would you say his name like that? 💗 well, fuck. this was the captain had thought so much in his entire life. and they were thoughts about feeling up his crewmate's tits. and, as a result of such vigorous thinking, a problem had arose in his pants. he tried to think it away. tried thinking about sea-kings or hideous devil-fruit users. of alvida. or anyone else. he even tried to think of food so that his attention could be diverted. but even the most tastiest of sanji's pudding couldn't take away the throbbing in his cock. and the delicious feeling of your soft skin next to his. as a last resort, he prayed that you wouldn't shift more and feel his dick against you. he prayed you would take his silence as rejection and simply drift off to sleep. but ofcourse, this is a godless land. because you moved again. and when you felt his hard-on against your thigh, you looked up at him. lips caught between your teeth, blinking up at him almost innocently, you asked, "got a problem, captain?" before he could answer, you pressed forward, "i think i can fix it." on the other side of the ship nami burst into chopper and ussop's room. when she yelled, it probably could be heard over the entire ship, "LET US SLEEP, YOU MORONS. WE HAVE A LONG DAY TOMORROW. GO SLEEP OR I'LL FINE YOU BOTH A MILLION BERRIES PER MINUTE THAT YOU'RE UP." you're not sure if it was chopper or ussop crying in the distance. but oh well, you have a captain to please 🤭

zoro:

💚zoro's not even fucking sure how he ended up like this. he's sure it involved some higher-than-tolerable level of alcohol for both the parties involved. and he's sure it must have been your idea that he had drunkenly complied with. "let's sleep together" "okay" what was he thinking? because right now, you were sprawled against his chest. both of you were on his bed. his shirt was off, yours was barely on. a bit of drool peaked out from the corner of your lips. and he found himself quietly rubbing it away with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly to himself. ew?! was he still drunk?? as the realization set in, he pulled his hands back in wicked horror and looked around as if someone had seen him. it was still night, and in the middle of the night, the effects of the cheap booze must have wore off of him and he awoke to you as his bed. 💚"hey." he tried to shake you awake but you just groaned, sinking further into him. he hissed when you buried your face against his bare skin. he whisper-shouted, ignoring the goosebumps on both of your skins, "wake up. go back to your own room, woman." but you didn't shift an inch. instead, you stayed buried against him. he groaned but when his eyes fell back to your face, he couldn't help but fight off the impending blush that crawled up his face. your hair was a mess and your cheek was squished against his chest. you breathed softly and sometimes, your fingers twitched against his skin and you touched him fleetingly. and you were warm. too warm for his liking. he tried to look away but his hand carefully came up to your face. staying there not a moment too long, he dragged it downwards. over your shoulders and over your back. he stopped before he went too far and grabbed your ass, the curve so delicious in his eyes. but he stopped, pulling his hands back to lay on the linen sheets. he was a horny man, not an evil douche. 💚but you must have been hell-bent in proving flaws in his moral-code, because you shifted and your pelvis shifted over his. he bit back a grunt at the movement over the fabric. you were so cozy against him. the way you brushed up against him, the way your hair tickled him. would you like it if he pulled your hair? would you moan? god, what would you sound if you moaned out his name? he was a bad man. thinking all of those things. and he tried to focus on anything but the blood-rush to his dick, really, but the way you started moving against him, almost mechanically. god. that made all attempts to ignore his boner disappear. his hips moved upwards and he closed his eyes, giving into the friction of you against him. soft moans fell from his lips, hips still moving upwards to graze your clothed thighs. 💚"zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eye. you strained your neck up and he looked down at you, dazed. "you okay, zo?" when he found himself unable to talk and you found a harsh roll of hips under you, you connected the dots. a playful smile tugged on your lips, "need some help?" "no." the swordsman swallowed thickly. "fine." you shrugged, clamoring off him. your hips swayed as you made a futile attempt to find your discarded shorts somewhere in the room. you gave him a lingering look, "i should go back to my room. the crew will freak out if they find us like this." "no." he caught your wrist, tugging you towards him, "stay. i could use some help." 💚in the morning, sanji walked into the swordman's room to see if the moron could find you somewhere since you were nowhere to be found on the ship. what he found, instead, was you and the mosshead tangled in his sheets. when you and zoro had finally made it to the breakfast table, sanji may/may not have been crying. luffy, ussop and chopper were laughing in the background. nami decided it was a good enough reason to even high-five zoro. it was an awkward breakfast.

sanji:

💙sanji was probably in heaven. yes, that's the only explanation. sure, the ship was en route to alabasta but he was on his way to heaven. because there's no way you had come seeking him out in the middle of the night. you had said, "i can't sleep." "oh?" the cook had wordlessly stepped aside and you took on the opportunity to slip in. he shut the door behind you, "can i help you then, love? want me to cook something?" "i would have really not bothered you but i don't know who else to ask. nami and vivi are sleeping together and the bed's not big for the three of us." you rambled, "and zoro probably showered five months ago. and luffy, ussop and chopper are passed out in the common room. so... can i sleep with you?" it's a miracle he didn't pass out on hearing those words. it's an even bigger miracle that that was three hours ago and he had still not passed out. now, sanji lay next to you— as stiff as a corpse— while you snored. your body shifted and your hands reached out towards sanji. your palm ran up and down his torso as to check if he was there. and once you had gotten a confirmation, you scooted in his direction and sanji held his breath as if one wayward puff of air will wake you up. 💙vinsmoke sanji was trying. he was trying o maintain his composure, to not pull you into his chest. he was trying not to think about the way your chest will feel against his, the way his fingers will glide over your thighs, the way your hand will fit around his dic— and it was as if you could hear his wretched thoughts. because your hands moved over his torso. gliding up and down. you leaned into his touch, molding your body against his. you might have been having an interesting dream cause he saw your hips gently rocking, your thighs pressed harder and you eyes clenched shut. you buried your head into his chest and the smell of your shampoo seemed to turn him on more. he ignored his weeping dick, decided to pay it no mind. but all of that resolve crumbled when he heard you moan his name into the fabric across his chest. your nails dug into his shoulders and your nose buried as deeply as it could against his skin. 💙 he gently guided his fingers to your thighs. and you shook under his soft touches. his thumb softly brushed over your clothed pussy and bucked towards his hand. he could probably just feel you up and you'd let him— "—shit." sanji quickly brought his hand back, realizing that you were sleeping and out of it. even if your lips chanted his name, he couldn't do the things his mind was convincing him to do. because if he started, he wouldn't stop. 💙so, to get himself rid of such sinful thoughts, he decided to hide in the shower and pump at his hard cock till he was tired. till you crawled out of his head. till your voice stopped ringing in his ears, making his cock impossibly harder. he slowly pushed you away, trying to climb off the bed. but as soon as you felt his warmth disappear, you cracked open an eye, "sanji?" "uh" his face went red, eyes averting, "just going to the washroom. i'd be back." you sat up, "did i go too far?" sanji's mouth hung agape as you pulled him back into bed, "i thought you wanted me to moan your name like that—" "—wh-what?" "i had a dream." you innocently traced your index nail down his torso and brushed it over his sleeping shorts, "think you can help me?" you blinked up at him, "pretty please." 💙 the next morning, the cook of the crew made the worst breakfast possible. wasn't his fault. all he could think about was you and your breathless moans and your eyes as— "this tastes like shit." the swordman argued. "thEN MAKE IT YOURSELF, FREELOADER." "might as well if you're gonna cook so bad." "—i think it tastes fine." nami sighed, "if i knew you getting some would make you a terrible cook, i would have let (yn) sleep with me and vivi." and the entire ship choked on their (terrible) breakfast.

a/n: i tweaked the prompt a bit (as i was getting stuck with the original ask), but i hope this was good enough anon!! as always, thanks for reading and send in req that you might have <3 (tagging: @bokutosbiceps cause i know you love luffy)

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delopsia · 8 months

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Stellar Ride | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 8,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, PBR!Rhett. Mentions of Rhett blowing up in the media, crowds, Maria flirting with Rhett in front of the Reader, Archie is a gem. Praise, grinding, mentions of past injury, unprotected sex, a dash of jealousy, post-coital snuggles. Please comfort and reassure your cowboy during sex. Brief Summary: When new fans and a childhood crush come seeking the hand of your cowboy, you take great pleasure in knowing that this cowboy is yours. Not Maria's. Not his fans. No, just yours.

The roar of the crowd is louder than the drum of your heart. Thrashing against your chest like a caged animal. The buzz of adrenaline jittering through your veins. Rattling what remains of your already shot nerves. That blinding jumbotron flashes a familiar name and face. But it's not what you can focus on.

And even the screams of a name you know too well aren't enough to rise above the deafening ring in your ears. A constant tone that makes your world blurry. Tunnel vision locked onto a mop of black hair lingering by the chutes. Beyond the sections reserved for fans, but not in the staff area. A familiar sight that has your heart beating harder. As frustrated as the bull thrashing in the chute.

Is that...

Thump.

...it can't be.

But then that head turns to speak to a friend. And the screams of Rhett Abbott's name floods your ears. No longer muffled. So loud that you jolt in your seat.

Maria fucking Olivares.

Two thousand pounds of pure muscle bursts out of the chute. Twisting counterclockwise. The big right hand of your beloved cowboy held high in the air. Muscles flexing as he clings to that thin piece of rope. Seconds spinning across the jumbotron screen.

Numbers that you can't bear to spare a glance at. You don't know if it's you shouting his name or if it's the fan next to you. Her shrill voice overriding all else.

The crowd shoots to their feet as the buzzer sounds. Blocks you from catching sight of him falling off the bull — always the scariest part. The familiar voice of the announcer blares across the speakers as if the victory is his own, crying your husband's name as loud as he can.

He's made it.

Rhett's going to the finals again.

...if he doesn't get disqualified for darting toward the fence.

On a one-way track to the stands, he hops up and swings his dirt-covered legs over the barricade, hat blowing off his head. Spurs jingle as his boots hit the ground. Darting through the collection of squealing girls that have congregated in front of you. A big, loopy grin sprawls across his scruffy face. Arms opening wide.

That's the last thing you see before a hundred sixty something pounds of adrenaline and excitement slams into you. Knocking you off your feet. His grimy nose burying into the crook of your neck, sweat dripping from the curls at the nape of his neck. Yelling something that you can only interpret as a "we made it!"

And you just know he's getting red dirt all over your new white t-shirt, but you're wrapping your arms around him anyway. Hanging on tight as he spins you in a circle, uncaring of the unfamiliar faces that crowd around you.

"My ring," he's already muttering into your ear, "where's..."

So impatient.

Your hand disappears into your pocket, producing a thin, golden band. Dented on the side from the time a bull stepped on his hand, broke it in three different places. That scarred ring finger of his crooks off to the left more than it should, but the ring slips over it regardless, hugging him just right.

"Can't go a second without it, can ya?" You're teasing, nose wrinkling as he leans in to steal a kiss. All sweat and grime and all the things that shouldn't be on your mouths.

The corners of his lips turn upward, wild blue eyes glittering, "nope."

Cute.

But fuck does he need a shower.

A flash is all it takes to break you out of your own little world. Cameras greedily snapping photos of a moment that wasn't anyone's to save or share. Hands are touching you; someone's behind Rhett, yelling for him to turn around and take a photo with her, the loudest amongst a clatter of voices that rattle around your skull.

It's the worst possible time for Rhett to be drawing away from you. Right at the start of the pushing and shoving, brought on by the rise in security surging into the stadium, frantic to get their photos and videos and everything else they could possibly get out of your cowboy. But he's grabbing hold of your wrist, downright hauling you underneath his sweat-drenched arm, safely tucked into his side as he shoulders through the crowd.

Rhett's head dips down, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers into it, "next time 'm makin' them put ya in the damn staff section."

"Don't let the win go to your head, cowboy," you tease him as if you don't know that you'll be in that section next time; at this point, you're surprised it hasn't happened already. These crowds grow with every rodeo, a sea of folks who had never heard of Professional Bullriding until they discovered the handsome mug of a small-town Wabang cowboy.

A familiar face emerges from the crowd, one over his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting as loud as his deep voice can possibly manage, "yer a goddamn fuckin' fool, Abbott!" That other hand waves a cowboy hat high in the air, the dark brown felt dusted in a light coating of dirt.

"I knew you'd catch it," Rhett's smiling, so drunk off the adrenaline that he doesn't seem to care when Archie slams that hat back on his head.

"Y' kiddin' me?" The edge of Archie's lip is rising, fighting a smile that is bound to work its way across his bearded face eventually, "I wrestled a gal fer this piece o'shit!"

You nearly wish that you had been present to see that. Big ol' Archie going toe-to-toe with a fan who had gotten her hands on the most iconic piece of attire your cowboy owns. "And you won," you don't mean for your tone to come off so snappy; the words nearly shoved out of your mouth by the collision of an elbow into your side.

"Damn straight I won," there's that grin, breaking out on its own accord, just as wild as Rhett's, "d' y' know how much them folks would sell that bloomin' hat on eBay fer?"

No, but you're still reeling from the prices that fanmade duplicates have been fetching. Hats crafted to look identical to Rhett's, with their deliberate tears in the felt and scuffs to high hell. Why someone would want to beat their hat to hell and back is anyone's guess.

You wonder if any of them have figured out about the polaroid of you two, taken on your first official date as a couple, delicately stitched into the inside of his hat. His good luck charm, he calls it.

Wading through the swarm is easier said than done; Rhett's squeezing you into his side, strong arm secured around you, and yet you can still feel yourself slipping out from his grasp. Forced away by the bustle of it all, unable to do anything but push forward.

Fuck, it must take an hour to get to the other side. Bursting from the flurry and into a small gap that a pair of grumbling security guards have created for you. Tumbling down the stadium floor, Archie perpetually a step ahead as Rhett leads you through unfamiliar gates and past bullpens. Such sweet, oversized animals these bucking bulls are. Intimidating at first. A massive presence that reminds you of your own mortality could hand your ass to you if they so desired but are almost always just looking for a good head scratch.

You could say the same for Rhett, now that you think about it.

It's so much quieter behind the chutes. Tucked away from the stands, its own private detachment in this oversized arena. Complete with a swarm of security and a thick, black curtain to keep out the occasional nosey fan who has yet to learn the concept of a boundary.

"Ah hell," Archie's arms flail. "That goddamn broad—"

"Hey, you two!"

Ugh.

You wish you didn't, but you recognize that voice all too well. The snappy click click click of Maria's heels across the stadium floor is all it takes to have your skin prickling. Shoulders rising with a tension that they've only just lost. Actively fighting the urge to grab Rhett's hand, drag him out of this damn arena entirely and pray she doesn't follow.

"How'd she get back here?" You're not sure if you're asking Archie or Rhett. But you might as well be speaking to a wall because all you receive are blank stares in return.

"I ain't fuckin' know!" Archie hisses, his thumb jabbing toward Rhett, "Ask this fool. He's the one she's 'ere fer."

But Rhett's got nothing more to offer than a shrug, teeth worrying his bottom lip, "I thought you let her in."

That's all it takes to get Archie's boots clicking across the floor, decidedly exiting this impromptu conversation before Maria can even enter it. Disappearing into the bustle of the rodeo once more, off to help another big-name bull rider get ready for his ride. Something. Anything that doesn't involve standing here and being forced into a conversation with someone you don't know.

"Oh my god, I didn't know you were gonna be here," there's something about Maria's big, overjoyed smile that just makes your stomach twist in ways that it shouldn't.

Did she...did she not notice you standing here at all?

She's here too fast. A freshly manicured hand rising to toy with the ends of her braid, slung over her shoulder, on display for the world to marvel at. Not too close by any means, and yet her sugary perfume still hits you like a brick wall. So up there and in your face all of a sudden that it sends you reeling.

"I uh..." Rhett's boot kicks the ground, like he might be able to scrounge words out of the tile, "Didn't expect to see you out here."

"Well, of course, I had to come and see the legendary Rhett Abbott ride," her tone is so bright that it ought to make the arena lights jealous. "Nobody ever believes me when I tell them we were friends in high school."

You're not sure if you'd count on and off ghosting a man for several years as being friends, but to each their own.

But you've got no time to think about the stories that have been relayed from Rhett's tongue because Maria's already sparking a conversation with him. Chattering away about his recent blow-up in the media, like this is some sort of one-on-one interview. You catch yourself trying to speak, a gentle correction about a detail; it wasn't a lucky fan who got a tour of the Abbott ranch. She broke in while his family was at church.

If Maria hears you, she deliberately ignores you. Her big brown eyes focused solely on Rhett and Rhett alone.

Biting your tongue, you let your attention wander. Better to be distracted than make an ass of yourself. Gaze raking over this side of the arena; the swarm of cowboys tucked off in the corner, stretching as they chat amongst themselves, warming up for their ride. All big names from small towns, with stories so similar to Rhett's.

The only difference is that they didn't get a sudden spike in fame over a video of them coming up to their significant other during a rodeo with their arms full of kittens.

A box of strays that Rhett had found discarded near one of the bullpens. Six kittens in total: three oranges, two calicos, and a tabby. Fussy little things, Rhett's still got a scar on his jaw from the tabby. You'd only intended to keep one, but Rhett's somehow convinced you on two, so the other one won't feel like she's lost her family.

There's movement in the crowd of employees by the announcer's booth. Black shirts emerging from the collection of folks working to keep the event up and running; security.

And there's Archie, meandering along next to them; if he had their matching get-up, he'd blend right in. Head held high, shoulders square as they march right toward you. His beard conceals the cockiness in his grin, but the glint in his eye tells all.

Rhett's hand bumps into your wrist as it slides down, thick fingers interlocking with yours. Maria's still talking, but that warm gaze of his is solely on you. A smile lacing his sweaty face as you lean against him.

Before security can say a damn word, Maria's fishing out a laminated card from her pocket, flashing it alongside her too-white grin. "I'm interning for one of the vets on standby."

...that's how she got in?

A hand settles on your shoulder, Archie's minty breath meeting your nose as he dips between you and Rhett. "I tried."

And again, he's gone. Disappearing just as quickly as he did the first time. Leaving you to bite back your frown as Maria's voice drones on once more, a constant irritant that you can't seem to escape. Strange, because the tone of her voice doesn't bug you at all. It's pleasant, actually.

What's bothering you is the fact that it's coming from her.

Popular belief would accuse you of being insecure. She was Rhett's childhood crush, after all, but it's not that at all.

It's the fact that she deliberately ignores you every time she comes around. Talking to Rhett, and only Rhett, with some starry-eyed twinkle that you can only identify as suggestive. Curious about all the things she may have missed out on when she rejected him all those years ago.

She spoke to you that first time you met her, back at the pit bar. When you'd offered her one of your drinks because they'd just sold out. Hadn't known her from any other person in Wabang, just another twenty-something with a story that you didn't know yet. It's a fuzzy memory, old and warped at the edges, but you remember laughing with her, telling some story about one of the guys in the bar.

And you remember the way you vanished from her radar, the moment a particular cowboy ambled up behind you, kissing your temple as he apologized for being so late.

She ignored your presence at Rhett's last rodeo in Wabang when he won that championship title for the third time in a row. Didn't say a word when you said hello at that dinner the Abbotts threw. Her ears tuned you out when the two of you ran into each other in the Casper airport, but oh, did she perk up when she realized Rhett was behind you.

Just like her face had fallen when the word "honeymoon" had left Rhett's mouth, her nose wrinkling as if that new golden band on his finger would burn her.

Hot breath tickles your ear, the scruff of a cowboy's lower lip tickling the skin there, "'m gonna head out for a shower," he whispers, "maybe I can get us outta here 'n to the hotel early."

"Don't get lost," smiling, despite knowing that you're about to be left with the one woman who refuses to acknowledge your existence for longer than a few seconds.

Rhett's lips press against your cheek, lingering in a sort of fashion that makes you wonder if he's purposely making a show of it. But then his eyebrows are shooting upward, eyes alight with a suddenly recalled thought, "Should I shave?"

It's been a while since you've heard that question.

And by a while, you mean at least a week.

Usually, you'd say yes, but the stubble on his cheek has only recently grown to the point of a gentle give rather than the prickliness that comes after a recent shave. Soft under the pads of your fingers, the right amount of scruffy, but not too much so. Doesn't poke you, even when you fully grasp his jaw, just to feel him wriggle and try to shake your hand away.

"Nah," concluding aloud, letting your arm fall back to its place at your side, "I like this look on you."

"Long as y' don't call me homeless again," those eyes of his roll, and then he's pressing a second kiss to your cheek, "Stay close. I'll come find ya when 'm done."

With that final stolen kiss, he's gone. Spurs jingling with every step he takes, shoulders straining against that old, red plaid shirt that he refuses to get rid of. The same one he's been wearing since you met him. Says it's one of his favorites, but then again, he says that about all of his shirts.

Maria is gone.

You suppose she took off the moment Rhett turned his attention to you because even as you twist your head, you can't seem to spot her. No clicking heels, no sparkling white teeth. Nothing. As if she was never here in the first place.

The sound of your name cuts through the air; Archie, again, waving you down, "y' wanna come see this 'ere bull calf we got?"

How are you meant to say no to such a thing?

"Rhett—"

Your back thumps against the wall. Railing digging into your ass. Jean-clad hips part your thighs. Oversized belt buckle digging into your skin as he rolls into you, a careful drag that sends heat rushing between your legs.

"I know it," speaking between open-mouthed kisses against your neck, the hair on his jaw scratching the sensitive skin there, "I know it."

The elevator shifts, only just beginning its upward climb to the sixth floor.

Greedy hands wander beneath your shirt. Callouses catching on the softness of your curves, burning up your sides like they can't possibly get enough. His mouth frenzied against your neck, poorly concealed bulge grinding deliciously against your core. Whittling away at your resolve until your hands are rising from his shoulders and tangling in his hair.

Tugging at the damp strands, forcing him to tilt his head up to meet your lips. Greedily drinking up the saccharine moan that whispers from the back of his throat. Open mouths lazily tangling in a dance that has your teeth clattering together. Wet, sloppy, his kisses trailing across your cheek, on his way to your ear. Only to be drawn back by his hair once more, keening, defenses melting away like sugar in the rain.

The elevator chimes. A pitchy tune that ends just as your feet hit the ground, doors squealing open to reveal a never-ending hallway. Too pristinely white, adorning frames and decor, nothing but a blur as the two of you stumble down it. Hand in hand, vision tunneled on your door.

You've hardly had time to pluck the key from your pocket. Fumbling with the slick plastic, as hands return to wander your sides once more. Drawing you back into a big, warm chest, Rhett's chin coming to rest on your shoulder. His hips bucking up against your ass, shamelessly distracting.

The simple swell of his cock against you is all it takes to set a shiver into you. Seeping through your skin, past muscle, straight down to your bones. And you can't...fuck, you can't keep hold of this goddamn card—

"Oh, what a coincidence!"

Your hand freezes. Caught halfway between sliding the card through the reader. Neck feels like it's been filled with cement as you turn your head to look down the hallway.

"Maria?" Rhett's chirp is brighter than anything you can produce. His hands slip from your sides in favor of curling an arm around you instead. "What are..."

"I'm in room six o' nine," this hallway may be white, but her teeth are whiter. So blinding that you nearly miss the flashing green light of the card reader. The handle gives way as you twist it, door creaking open on its own.

An eight-floor hotel, and yet you get roomed next to Maria Olivares.

Of fucking course, that's how things would work out.

Rhett's saying something, too polite to leave her hanging, but you hardly hear it. His voice nothing but a familiar hum as your eyes fixate on the edge of that oversized bed with its fluffy sheets and cozy sheets. Still messy from your earlier nap in them, the best mattress you've seen since this whole rodeo circuit started.

Oh, what the hell? It's not like Maria's talking to you anyway.

Stepping out of those big, warm arms, you head into the room. On a one-way route to the bed, succumbing to its siren call with all the grace and beauty of a bull rider being thrown. Face down, with a guttural noise strangled out of you by the painful ache of muscles as they finally, finally relax.

You almost think you can feel it. The way a pair of darkened eyes focus on your ass. Probably the only thing your cowboy can see from his place in the hallway. Stuck entertaining the thoughts and whims of a woman who hasn't spoken to him in at least two years. Can't do a goddamn thing about the way you squirm, raising your ass in the air just for the hell of seeing how far you can push him.

He had you in this position this morning; you wonder if he can still feel the way your hips trembled in his oversized hands as you came around his cock.

Because you can still feel the way his ring dug into your skin. Left an imprint that still brands you, even now. On their own accord, your hand rises. Fingertips delving past your waistband to find that sore indent of flesh.

The tip of Rhett's boot thumps against the wall; a soft thump, thump, thump that has your head tilting to gaze out the door. You can hardly see him, but it's impossible to miss the way his hands have folded themselves at the front of his jeans, politely concealing the way he strains against the fabric.

Riding a bull may be hard, but the look in those wild eyes suggests that standing in that hallway is even harder.

That cowboy's bound to break, eventually.

Maria's voice is nothing but a distant hum as you slip off the bed. Toeing off your shoes, uncaring of where they land. Too focused on hooking your fingers beneath the edges of your pants and nudging the fabric down your legs, falling into a messy pile that you're sure to trip over later.

Fire burns into your bare thighs, set alight by a burning gaze that eats up the way your shirt lifts off your body. Leaving you bare, if only for a second, because your hands are already reaching for the soft, oversized flannel that he once wore earlier in the day. Two sizes larger than what he actually fits because the material hugged his biceps too tightly. His cologne still lingers on it, something torn between apple and wood smoke. Sweet with the slightest nudge of earthiness.

You can almost hear it. The soft crackling of his resolve. Crumbling away like an old bridge, pieces falling faster than you can keep up with.

His voice rumbles. Saying something you don't care to comprehend. Spurrs chiming. Boots thumping closer. Door hinges squeal as it all but slams closed. Kicked. You suppose.

Your socked feet twist beneath you. Turning. Coming nose to nose with him.

God, he's going to eat you alive.

If he doesn't get to you first, that is.

One foot steps forward, slotting your thigh between those long, muscled legs. Palms rising to his chest, pressing. You're hardly expecting him to give as easily as he does. Such a strong presence that you hardly believe he's giving way to the gentle pressure. Your noses nudge together with every hesitant step backward, a silent dance until his back hits the wall.

Bold, one of your hands drop down. The heel of it pressing into a warm heat between his legs. Rhett's lips part with the softest inhale you've ever heard, the back of his head thunking against the drywall.

You wonder if Maria heard that.

"Can't talk all of a sudden?" You hum. So nonchalant and casual that it sounds like a part of normal conversation.

"Y' look—" Cut short by the way you grasp him through his jeans. That pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Y' look good in my shirt."

But his eyes suggest that there's much, much more that he'd like to say. So many thoughts and phrases fluttering through that pretty little head that he doesn't know how to get them to his tongue.

Makes it that much easier to lean closer, your lips ghosting against his as you speak, "Is that all, cowboy?"

Rhett's hips buck. Wild. Set off by the thigh that nudges upward against his balls and the heavy underside of his cock. A tremor has long since arose in his hands. Weakly clinging to your hips. Can barely hold on when you lean in and meet his open mouth. Drinking up the soft noise that boils out of his throat, your eyes drifting shut at the soft scratch of his stubble.

Arms curl around your waist. Heavy palm dipping beneath this old flannel of his, pressing into the small of your back. Gingerly drawing you up into his chest, and he's sighing into your mouth like you're a dream come true. God, you could melt.

Your unbusied hand rises, tangling loosely in those dark curls, still wet from his rushed shower. Tugging a little too hard. Yanking his head back, swollen lips parted with a grunt.

"Someone's gotten a lil' feisty tonight," that Adam's apple bobs, the veins in his neck putting on a show for you. Distracting, but nothing quite like the way he peers back at you from beneath half-lidded lashes. "I take it that it ain't 'cause of my stellar ride tonight."

Idly, your teeth sink into your lower lip. "I'm going to take you for a stellar ride if you aren't careful."

For a moment, the room is silent. No voices in the hallway, no clicking of heels out in the hallway. Not even an audible breath.

"...wouldn't mind that," he whispers.

You're not sure if it was you or Rhett who made the first move. But everything is spinning. A blur of color as your feet tangle together. Backing up. Dancing toward the bed. His hands crawling up your back. Your fingers clinging to those long curls. And his mouth is on yours, and his tongue is lapping at your lower lip, and your mouths are parting—

The mattress squeals beneath the weight of your bodies. And maybe it's the bounce that makes it so easy to throw your leg over his hips. Rolling over top of him before you can so much as comprehend what you're doing.

You've no recollection of it, but one of you has undone the buttons of his shirt. Revealing a broad, milky white chest, still marked by your earlier excursions. Bears the wound of a hoof to the ribs from last Sunday. A heart-stopping mottling of purple, blue, and yellow that has yet to fully fade, no matter how many times you've peppered it with kisses.

"I take it y' ain't gon' be easy on me," he says it like it's a hope.

A want.

A need.

"Did you want me to be rough on you, cowboy?" Your smile audible in your words; already know the answer to that question. Distantly, you think you hear his boots being pushed off his feet. Hitting the floor with two dull thunks.

Rhett's hips roll upward, muscles flexing, putting on a rippling show for your eyes only. "A lil bit."

That's all he needs to say. Those three little words setting you into motion. Scooting down his legs, your hands scurrying to pop open that obnoxiously large belt buckle. One of those things that felt like rocket science when you first met him, but now something you can do with your eyes closed.

Well-trained fingers popping it open and nudging it out of the way as you make a move for his button and zipper. Eager. Can't even bring yourself to waste time with fishing him out of his boxers. Instead hooking your hands into his waistband and pulling them down before he can finish pulling those lube packets from his pocket. Sends the little things scattering down his thigh and across the bed.

"Damn," Rhett grunts, fumbling for one that was practically ripped from his hand, "impatient."

Getting the bunched-up fabric past his ankles is the worst part. Stupid cowboy and his stupid long legs. Can't release the breath you're holding until it's finally sliding over his heels, belt clanking against the floor. Finally, finally, finally.

Only now, as you crawl back up his legs, do you remember to open your mouth, "I wouldn't be if you didn't spend the past few minutes entertaining Maria."

"Didn't wanna be rude—oh." Eyelashes flutter. His hips jerking up into your hand, wrapped firmly around his cock. Flushed red at the tip, precum shimmering in the dull light of the bedside lamp.

But it's not enough to wet him. The drag of your hand is rough. Firmly stroking, uncaring of whether he gets that lube open or not. Up and down, entranced by the way he twitches in your grasp. Thighs writhing against the mattress, squeezing together, only to spread apart again. A picture-perfect show of muscle, his heavy breaths like a melody.

"Too dry?" You know the answer to that.

He knows that you know the answer. Yet his hair bounces as he nods his head, the edges of two packets frozen between his teeth. "Uhuh."

But he's still not moving. In no hurry to relieve the discomfort that comes with your too-dry touch. Stomach flexing as he twitches up into it, chasing the touch of your hand, a soft noise emanating from the back of his throat. Rumbles out of his mouth and down between your legs.

"You'd better hurry up then," saying it to yourself more than anything. Can feel the uncomfortable wetness growing, a subtle throb begging you to do something about that. Only spurred on by the way he whines at you, fumbling with the packets.

The edges rip. Clear fluid spills out onto his lips and cheek as he pulls them away. Face wrinkling, pawing at his skin with the back of his hand. It's what he gets for opening things with his teeth.

"How many times are you gonna do that before you learn?" You whisper, the corners of your lips rising as you squeeze one of the packets over his length. Drenching him in a slick wetness that squelches when your hand passes over it.

He'd have something to say if you weren't starting to jerk him in earnest. His knees bumping into you, head tilting back. Can hardly focus on wetting two of his fingers with the other packet, dripping onto his heaving chest and running down his forearm.

"Quit—" his mouth opening and closing like a fish, "'m gonna cum if you keep—mmh, if you keep doin' that."

On its own, your hand freezes at his base.

He told you to stop. He knew you'd stop. And yet he jerks up into your fist anyway, keening high in his throat at the loss. Throbbing, balls flexing against your hand. So, so close, over something so little.

Rhett's shaky hand delves between your legs. Rough fingertips pass between your folds, over your clit. Shamelessly pressing inside without much warning, back into an open, dripping wetness that still aches from earlier in the day.

Your thighs shudder, fighting the urge to clamp together as he passes over a familiar bundle of nerves. Bumping into it on every deep thrust of his fingers. "Baby, you don't have to—"

"I know it," the lazy corner of his mouth lifts as he says it, an unnamed fondness sparkling in his smile, "don't wanna hurt you."

You can't argue. God, you can't argue. Not with him shallowly thrusting in and out of you the way that he does. Knuckles dragging sweetly against your walls, drawing your mouth open with a silent noise.

You've only just begun to adjust to it, but you're already catching him by the wrist, drawing those thick fingers out of yourself. All in exchange for scooting further up his lap, your other hand guiding his flushed length to your entrance. The head of him brushing against your entrance, burning hot.

But you're not sinking down on him yet. Aren't quite sure what's made you freeze. Is it the recollection that Maria is on the other side of this thin wall? Hesitance to take what you want so quickly?

Rhett's hands smooth up your thighs, peering up at you from beneath thick lashes. "Take me," he breathes, voice barely there, "please."

Fuck, you can't say no to that.

A calloused grip squeezes either side of your hips as you begin to sink down on him. Sensitive, sore cunt opening to take that blunt tip for the second time today. An aching stretch that has you holding your breath, caught in the way that he slowly enters you. Such a familiar thing that you've experienced time and time again, yet continues to feel so new.

Rhett's mouth is moving, but not a sound escapes his throat. Voice suddenly lost as you take him in, wound too tight by the feeling of splitting you open. Frankly, you don't think you're much better. Can't even begin to find the words that you wanted to say just moments before.

Your palms settle on his exposed chest, feeling the way his heart knocks back against you. Vicious little thump thump thumps that spur your own heart on, pounding in your ears, so strong that your arms feel like they begin to shake with it.

But then your hips are meeting, and the underside of his length is twitching into a particular little spot, and—

"Fuck, Rhett," you whisper his name like its a praise.

A television blares from the next room over. Maria's. So loud that it's hardly muffled, and yet you can hardly hear it. The droning of a news reporter washed out by the breathy whine of a cowboy. Your cowboy.

Not Maria's. Doesn't belong to the fans who attend every rodeo and buy every object with his name printed on it.

No, just yours.

Those brilliant blue eyes sparkle up at you as you lift yourself up until only his plush head remains inside of you, then sink back down once more. A pair of gasps twist through the air at the way that he fills you, at the way you wrap around him so perfectly.

"Jus' like that," Rhett's words punctuated by his heaving chest, "feels good, feel's so..." He can't finish that thought. Tongue limp in his mouth as you repeat the motion, a little shorter now. Quicker. Too impatient for the slowness that comes with lifting yourself all the way up.

And that's okay because his hips twitch up into you. Meeting you halfway with a lewd smack of skin on skin. Hitting a set of nerves that have your eyes unfocusing, the softest noise rattling out of your chest. Those lazy thrusts have no right to hit what they do. Has your quivering cunt savoring the way that his cock head drags inside of you.

His mouth snaps shut. Eyelashes fluttering shut, weakly muffling a moan that you wish you could have heard. Always has been a sucker for feeling you flutter around him.

"Come on, cowboy," you're gasping, can hardly keep your own eyes open as you reach up, pressing a thumb to his soft lips, "open up."

Hesitant, his mouth opens to wrap around the digit. Sucking gently, his tongue swirling around the tip, moaning into it like it's a damn pacifier. And fuck, it's not what you were going for, but he's whining as your hips meet once more, and the sound is vibrating up your arm, and, and—

Your fingers grip his scruffy jaw. Thumb pinning that wriggling tongue to the bottom of his mouth, forcing it open.

That sound he makes is garbled. The weakest little 'huh?' you've ever heard. Wide eyes peering up at you, gaze torn between confusion and intrigue. Poor cowboy has no idea what you're doing, and yet he seems up to whatever challenge you're about to present to him.

"Wanna hear you," Your sentence punctuated by a jerky snap of his hips up into you. Fuck, fuck fuck, he's hit that spot again. Sends you clenching around him once more.

Rhett sputters. Tongue flexing under your thumb, eyes darting to the wall behind the headboard. His protest doesn't make it past his lips, but you hear him loud and clear.

"It's okay," for a moment, your thumb loosens enough for him to escape if he wants to say something, "I'm the only one who can hear you."

Distantly, it hits you that Maria's probably maxed out her television volume as bait to make Rhett come over and ask her to turn it down.

But Rhett's not talking, and his protest dies there. Big hands running up your sides, palms curling around your breasts like he's been dying to do it all night. Gently holding on as you find your pace, riding this ol' bull rider in earnest now. Punching the breath out of your lungs, the sounds whittling out of your throat covered up by the deep grunts from below you.

"That's it," praising, adding flame to that rising confidence, "such a sweet boy for me."

Your unbusied hand slides across his chest, pinching at a nipple. Pulling on it, rolling the rapidly hardening bud between your fingertips, dusky pink blossoming into a raging red.

There he goes.

Jerking up into you with a garbled cry you haven't heard since you began this rodeo circuit. Baby blue eyes grow foggy, jaw slackening. Such a sight that you can feel yourself grow wetter around him, creating this sickly, loud squelch that bounces off the walls of this hotel room. And he's trying—God, he's trying to return the favor. Weakly catching one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, trying his best to roll it back and forth.

Your shaking hand rises, wrapping around his wrist, dragging it away. Still determined to keep your thumb pressed against his short little tongue, forcing those whimpered noises to hit the air.

But then he's trying to do it with his other hand, and you've got no choice but to yank your finger out of his mouth. Your knuckle bumping against his teeth as it flies up to collect his other wrist, pinning them above his head. Forcing you to shift your angle, letting that thick cock of his rub against those nerves with perfect, unrelenting ease.

"Wha...?" Rhett's eyes are wide open again, his head shaking, "But I want—"

His arms strain under your grasp, biceps rippling, and he could easily break out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Stopping his efforts as soon as you don't immediately give way. Yet he's still jerking up into you, meeting your body halfway at the same lazy pace as before.

"What do you want?" Echoing his too-short request despite knowing what he was trying to say. If only to hear that deep voice grumble again.

"Please, I want—" Fighting for control over his speech, head swaying back and forth like he's trying to shake the fog from his thoughts, "wanna touch you."

But you're not letting him go. Collecting both of his wrists into one hand, letting your other one roam through his hair and across his cheek. Stroking that trembling jaw.

There's a glassiness in his eye that wasn't there before. Appearing so suddenly, yet already threatening to spill down his pretty cheeks. "'re you mad?" He croaks, bottom lip wobbling. "Was it—did I...? I didn't mean to..."

All at once, the room freezes. Bodies coming to rest against each other as you let go of his hands in favor of stroking those scruffy cheeks. And yet, his arms lay limp above his head. Unsure.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you whisper, lips brushing against his forehead, "I was just playing with you, sweetie; I'm not upset with you."

It's not much, but it's enough to get him moving. Hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling into the hands that cradle his face. Your fingers stroking away the wayward tear that spills over until it's nothing but a damp sheen beneath his eye.

"What's got you thinking I'm mad at you?" Not sure if you should press it or not, but you're asking regardless as you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. Peppering them across his cheeks in the way that always gets his face scrunching.

His eyes dart toward the wall, then down to the floor, "...Maria."

"Maria?" You echo. That's what has him upset?

"I know y' don't like her and, and I know it didn't feel good havin' her follow us around all night." That pretty mouth is going ninety words a minute, rambling like it'll take the edge off of his nerves. Sweet blue eyes watering the more he talks. "I tried sayin' something to her earlier, but she wouldn't listen, 'n I didn't wanna be an ass..."

"No, no, I'm not upset about that," you're saying it so quietly, nearly covered up by the drone of Maria's television, but raising your voice feels like it'll break another piece of him. "I would've told you if it bothered me."

He's still searching. Scanning for a hint of a lie, a shred of anger that doesn't exist.

He doesn't find it.

For a moment, he's still. Breath caught in his throat. But then he's leaning up, nose bumping into yours as he catches your lips in his own, the both of you sighing into it. Some simple lock that ends as quickly as it started. Sharing a heated breath, as unified as your bodies are.

But there's still a flame kindling behind his eye.

"C'n I flip us over?" His hands draw up your sides, stroking your skin. "Please?"

"Go ahead, cowboy," you've hardly gotten the final word out, and yet he's already moving. Arms firm around your waist as he rolls your bodies over, your back settling into the mattress. Unintentionally jostling his cock inside of you, bumping into something spongey.

Rhett's warm nose buries itself in the space beneath your jaw, hips already beginning to move. Searching for that same pace you'd worked up mere minutes ago. Heavy balls smacking into your ass, your legs split wide to make space for his sweaty body. Slow at first, but then—

"Ah!" Stars sparkle behind your eyelids, mouth agape. "There, there, good boy."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's only just started fucking into you, and yet his cock head is already kissing those nerves on each inward pass. Meticulously striking every little spot. Has your cunt growing wet once more. Your blunt nails bite into his flannel-covered bicep, dominant hand venturing down between your legs.

"Feels so good," Rhett's babbling, right into your ear, "fuck, can feel your lil pussy spasmin' 'round me."

The pads of your fingers find your clit. Neglected and swollen, so sensitive that your own touch is almost too much. "Rhett..."

"Uhuh," and then his head is rising, and his mouth is on yours again.

Your lips can hardly stay together. Breaking apart with every shaky thrust, yet always finding each other again. Over and over, gasping into his mouth, swallowing down his pitchy whimpers. Chasing a high that you can feel burning to life between your legs. A dull heat that's already sparking, sending your skin prickling and your head spinning.

"Wanna..." he's muttering against your mouth, searching for words he can't find"Can I—please can I—"

And yet he's cut off by his own cry. A shattered noise brought on by the way your cunt squeezes him, fluttering like a damn butterfly. Your fingers spiral around your clit, chasing a lone flame that blooms into a raging wildfire. God, his rhythm is falling apart, jerky thrusts slamming into you without synchrony.

All of a sudden, Rhett finds his voice, "'M gonna cum."

Fuck, you said this morning that you weren't letting him cum in you again this week. But the thought of the cleanup pales in comparison to the vivid memory of him snuggling into you as he fills your pussy with his cum.

Oh, oh, oh, you want to feel that again.

"Cum in me, angel," your hand flies off his bicep in exchange for tangling in his hair. Holding on tight, like you'll float up to the ceiling and out the window if you don't hang onto him.

The corner of his eye twitches. Keening high in his throat, head dropping down as his hips quicken. Short, rapid little thrusts. Chasing the heat of it all. Pushing your head higher and higher into the clouds. Grunting beneath his breath.

His hips stall.

A sputtered cry falling off his tongue. Head burying into the crook of your neck as his orgasm washes over him. Cock spasming inside of you, twitching, filling your sweet pussy with his cum for the second time today. Painting the inside of you with white. Panting heavy against your skin.

His hips jolt involuntarily

And that's all it takes to push you over the edge. Cumming around his cock with a noise that your ringing ears don't catch. Head tilting back. Cunt clenching around him like a vice. Spurred on by the pitchy, oversensitive whimpers that you draw out of him.

Your head might have fallen off of your shoulders. So light and airy that you think you might feel a cloud brush against your cheek.

Or maybe that's the feathery brush of a cowboy's lips against your cheek. One, two, three, four kisses. Working you down from your high, grunting at the way that you relax around his spent cock.

Unfocused, your eyes open. Blinking back at him. "Some stellar ride, huh?"

The corner of his lip rises with a smile as your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. Chuckling, his head dips down to rest against your chest, soft cock slipping halfway out of you. And you can already feel his cum beginning to spill down your walls, stopped only by that sensitive, plush tip. Even then, you think you can feel it running down your inner thighs.

"We should clean up before we get the bed dirty," you whisper, but just because you should doesn't mean you will.

Rhett's head shakes, dark hair bouncing with it. "No."

"No?" Echoing dumbly. Though you can't say that surprise is your primary emotion.

"Want y' to keep holdin' me," that voice of his is deep, but his smile is light. Sparkling eyes peeking up at you like he thinks it'll get him extra time, "jus' a lil longer."

You've always been a sucker for that soft, cozy gaze.

And maybe you fall asleep because the next time you open your eyes, it feels like forever has passed. Your bones heavy, thighs sore from your borderline workout. Rhett's heavy body still lays on top of you. His fingers walk across your naked skin, transfixed by the way your skin gives to his gentle touch. Lost in his own little world.

Lazy, your fingers comb through his hair. The ring on your finger glints in the light as your nails rake across his scalp in a fashion that always makes him purr.

"Would y' care if I called the front desk 'n changed our room?" His voice rumbles against your collar, its own little earthquake.

"I don't mind," your neck strains as you try to press a kiss to his forehead, his skin still sticky with sweat, "if it makes you feel better, then that's what we'll do."

He hums at that. Doesn't seem to have much more of a response cooked up. But then, the scruff of his jaw brushes against your skin, his mouth opening again, "C'n we take a bubble bath first?"

Your eyes flutter. Supposedly a habit you've picked up from your husband. "Now?"

"Uhuh."

As you clamber off of each other and make for the bathroom, you can't help but catch yourself wondering if any of his big-time fans are aware of his recent bubble bath obsession. Or if Maria and her not-so-subtle fixations know that Rhett is absolutely, one-hundred percent, the little spoon.

Because you sure do.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #oneshot #OC: Archie Morton #rhett abbott smut #outer range #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #x reader

314 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 2 years

Text

Heartstopper

AN | What can I say? I’m a sucker for him. So here we are…we have some best friends to lovers goodness here! Enjoy🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4k

Masterlist | Main

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“What are we doing Friday night?”

“I have a date on Friday.”

The two of you spoke at the same time, and you stared wide eyed at him while he chuckled nervously, drumming his fingers against the countertop. You rocked back and forth on your heels before taking a step back and creating a pointed distance between each other.

“But we…we always hang out on Friday nights,” the mixture of annoyance and sadness made you sound so whiny. Fucking pathetic. You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly as he seemed to look anywhere but your face, “I just…assumed. We’d said we’d go see that new movie.”

“Well, I mean, we - all of us were going to go,” he shrugged, his nonchalant tone making this even worse, “you’ll still have Robin, Nancy, Munson, the kids.”

“Yeah,” your breath caught in your throat as you just tried to play it off. There was no reason that he needed to know about the odd mixture of feelings settling low in your stomach, “of course.”

“You understand, right?” his eyes finally met yours, as the two of you looked at each other for a few long moments. His gaze was piercing and you felt like he could see right through you, “it’s just that Allie asked me and I figured…why not, ya know? No reason not to.”

“Allie,” you repeated the name as your stomach churned and you felt like you could throw up. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Allie; she’d always been nice, kind, funny, pretty, all of it. She was a perfect little package. That was the worst part - you couldn’t even dislike her. Or blame him for saying yes. But the feeling it brought up was…strange, “wow. Yeah, no, totally. I-I’m sure that’ll be great.”

“You don’t like her?” he raised an eyebrow as you fervently shook your head, feeling your face flush with warmth, “what’s up with you-”

“I like Allie! She’s…great,” you insisted, your voice pitching up several octaves and making you sound like you were seconds away from crying. You were, “she’s, ugh, great.”

“Are you…okay?” he asked and you just nodded, giving him a tight lipped smile that felt as fake as it probably looked. He was going to see right through you. He was going to know…fuck. You were jealous. Plain and simple. You were jealous of Allie getting to go on a date with Steve, potentially kissing him, potentially fu- no. You were definitely not going to picture that, “babe-”

“You know, I’m late,” you lied as you pointed to your watch before stumbling your way to the door, “I’ve got umm…that thing. I’ll see you around Stevie.”

You ran out the door and over to your car without casting another look back towards Family Video. You were breathless, your chest in pain from a combination of the wild beating of your heart and that stupid, dumb feeling of heartache.

What had you expected? You’d never made a move, neither asked once asked him on a date date, never let him know you truly left. You couldn’t blame him for being in the dark about your feelings. Steve was allowed to go on dates, he was a free man. Hell, you’d already had feelings for him when he was dating Nancy and you hadn’t felt like this. Nancy was your friend, and while you had been jealous, you were happy, even if it meant your own heart breaking. If Steve was happy and Nancy was happy, that was all that mattered. But you’d been secretly overjoyed when they’d broken up. And yet still hadn’t made your move. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was going on dates again.

“Fuck,” you groaned at yourself as you hit the steering wheel. The stinging pain spread throughout your hand immediately and only made everything worse. Warm tears had pearled up and run down your cheeks before you knew it, causing you to cry loudly, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

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“That was…something,” Robin stepped out of the back, a twizzler in her hanging from her mouth as she raised her eyebrows, “and by something I mean painful. That hurt me and I wasn’t even involved.”

“What are you talking about?” sure, it had been…something but Steve hadn’t quite put all the pieces together yet, “she must be feeling…off or something. She gets weird sometimes, I dunno.”

“Steve, you just broke her fucking heart,” she groaned as she shoved his shoulder, causing him to make a small sound of protest. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to find the right words, “did you not…get that?”

“It’s just one Friday night,” he shrugged it off and turned to organize some of the rental returns. She grabbed his arm and shook her head. She really liked Steve, but damn, he was stupid sometimes, “there’ll be plenty of others…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” She was incredulous at how he didn’t realize that you were in love with him and the fact that he didn’t understand that he was in love with you too. She muttered something under breath that sounded a lot like complete idiots before throwing the last of her twizzler away, “Steve. She was jealous. Of your date. With Allie.”

“Oh,” he said as he nodded but then what she had said hit him all at once, “oh? Why would she be jealous? She’s my best friend.”

“You really don’t get it, do you? How can you be so blind?” she was laughing, both at how annoyed she was by both of you and how utterly sorry she felt that you both were foolish, “Steve. She’s jealous because she’s your best friend. Because she doesn’t want to be just your best friend.”

“Robin, just say what you’re getting at,” he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even further than it already had been. How was she even friends with a fool like this?

“She’s in love with you,” she reached over and patted his cheek just as the door opened again and a new customer strolled in, “you’re such an idiot sometimes, Harrington.”

Robin left his side to greet the customer as he stood there, dumbfounded at her words. No. No. She had to be wrong. There was no way that you loved him. You loving Steve Harrington? The idea was almost laughable. You were the pretty, funny, smart girl and he was…your dumb but handsome other half. Oh. Oh. His other half. He’d always considered his other, and better half. You were the first thought on his mind in the morning, often at night, and so many other times of the day. You were the first person he turned to whether it was for something good or bad. Holy shit. You’d always been.

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks as he paced around behind the counter. All those thoughts and feelings and everything…it had always been love. For you. Because he was in love with you. He thought back and realized he’d never once had the same intensity of feelings for Nancy. Even when he thought he was crushing on Robin, she hadn’t come close. Granted, he did love both of them, but he’d never loved someone like he loved you. Fuck. Steve Harrington was in love with you.

And Robin had said you were in love with him.

“No way,” he smacked himself on the forehead when he’d realized just how blind he was. To his own fucking feelings. And to yours. Maybe. If Robin turned out to be right. Which she sometimes was. But you…how could you love him? You were you and he was just…Steve, “fuck me.”

“Finally put it all together?” she called from across the store as he just waved her off, “took you long enough!”

If Robin was right, then he’d was sure he’d just royally screwed things up. He had to figure out how to fix it, if he could fix it…if you even wanted him to fix it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey Eds,” you grinned as soon as you saw his mop of messy curls. You were waiting outside for the boys to finish their Hellfire session, sitting on the hood of your car as they ran out in excitement. You walked over and gave him a hug which he effortlessly reciprocated. You’d always liked him, falling into an easy friendship with him over the years. He was, surprisingly, one of the most reliable and present people in your life. Just like Steve. Fuck. Steve. You’d almost forgotten about him.

“Hey,” you liked his smile, it was all dimples and teeth and softness. It was a nice smile. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. If anything, he was much more your type than Steve was, “what’s up? You’re looking at me all funny.”

“Do you wanna go out with me?” you asked softly as his eyebrows raised up in surprise.

“We hang out all the time…”

“Like a date,” you blurted out before shrugging your shoulders and looking away in embarrassment, “like a date with me and you. A, umm…date date?”

“Oh…kay,” he was grinning now, watching you in amusement. Eddie, despite what people often seemed to think, was a smart man. Plus, he also wasn’t blind. He knew you were Steve’s in all but name and that you had him wrapped around your finger as well. He did find you attractive and everything and sure, he knew if you hadn’t been so gone for Harrington, he might have asked you out too, “why are you asking me on a date?”

“I dunno,” you flailed your hands lightly, “just a thought. God, I made this awkward didn’t I? I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Sorry, Eds.”

“You’re fine,” he had a smug little grin on his face. He reached up and put a finger gently under your chin before turning your face up to his, “listen. I totally want to say yes, but I, being a man of superior morals, can’t say yes.”

“Eddie-”

“You’re attractive, you’re smart, you’re nice. Probably too good for any of us,” he insisted softly, “but I know you don’t like me like that.”

“You’re hot-”

“I know,” he grinned cheekily, “you’ve told me that many times after a few drinks when you weren’t trying to make out with me. But you know…there’s the whole…Harrington thing.”

“There’s no…there’s nothing with him,” you sighed as you grabbed his wrist, trying not to cry, “I’m just his friend.”

“For now.”

“For always,” you took his hand and held it tightly in yours, “he’s going out with Allie on Friday. And knowing how perfect and wonderful she is - I want to hate her but I can’t - Steve will fall for her in seconds. Or someone else. Just not…me.”

“You’re so blind,” he laughed, his shoulders shaking as he tried to calm himself down. When you looked at him in confusion, clearly not following what he was getting at, he stopped, “wait. You really don’t…you don’t know Harrington’s in love with you?”

“I - what?” you looked at him with such wide, worried eyes that he immediately grew serious, “Steve’s not in love with me, Eds. Don’t joke about it when you know how I feel about him.”

“You think - you think I’m joking,” he scrubbed a tired, ringed hand over his face as he shook his, “everyone knows, but you apparently.”

“Eddie.”

“Listen,” he held up his hands to signal his innocence, “I’m just telling the truth. I would never lie to you. I-”

“Can we hurry this up?” Dustin shouted from the car as you both flipped him the bird, “there’s pizza at home!”

“You wanna grab dinner on Friday? We can ditch the kids after the movie and then talk,” he suggested as you nodded slightly. One of the kids honked the horn as you sighed heavily, “you better go before they lose it. See you Friday.”

“See you Friday,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning around to the car, yelling at the trio in the backseat as you climbed into the driver’s seat.

Eddie waited there until you drove off, waving at the younger boys. He shook his head in amusement, laughing to himself, “oblivious idiots.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Even though your hot date consisted of a bunch of young teenagers, along with a too cozy couple in Jonathan and Nancy, and the chaotic duo of Robin and Eddie, you’d decided to dress up. You’d been feeling off all week, well aware of the reason why, but couldn’t shake yourself out of it. Sure, you could theoretically just have called Steve, gone to his house, or work to talk. But you found yourself doing the exact opposite. You’d ignored his calls, and whenever he stopped by your house, you pretended you weren’t home. At one point he’d climbed up to your window and tapped on it, but it was late enough to pretend you were asleep. So you did just that, thankful that you’d had the forethought to lock it for once.

Was it pretty and childish? Absolutely. But you weren’t ready to face him and have your heart broken. Because you were positive that as soon as you told him ‘hey, dumbass, I’m absolutely and irrevocably in love with you,’ he would laugh in your face and think you were joking. Your heart couldn’t handle that. Instead you broke your own heart by simply ignoring him.

So by dressing up, you figured that might lift your mood slightly. It did, and combined with spending time with your friends, you did feel a little better. Plus, the movie wasn’t as terrible as you’d thought it would be. All in all…okay.

Once you were all out of the theater, you nudged Eddie’s arm as you said your goodbyes to the rest of the group. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders without a second thought and started leading in the direction of the diner that you both loved. It was shitty, run down, and completely sketchy, but they had the best pancakes and milkshakes in Hawkins so it was worth the risk.

You were halfway there when you heard the shout of your name from across the street. You thought you’d imagined it until you heard Eddie’s name too. You stiffened as you both stopped and turned to look for the source of the voice. You already knew who it was long before you even saw him.

There stood Steve Harrington, hand in hand with Allie Miller, watching you with a scowl on his face. You heard Eddie giggle likely as you pinched his side and cast a small wave at Steve to placate him.

“Move,” you hissed at Eddie, nudging his hip with yours in a desperate attempt to get away from Steve. He took his sweet time, and of course, Steve and Allie had made it over to you within moments. Fuck. You were going to kill Munson for that later.

“Hey,” Steve’s eyes flicked between the two of you as you politely said hi to Allie, “what’s ugh…what’s going on here? Thought it was movie night?”

“The movie finished,” you shrugged and willed the ground to open and swallow you whole. You did not want to do this right now. Or ever. But life had a strange way of forcing its will upon you, “just grabbing dinner.”

“Just…the two of you?”

“Umm…yeah?” your whole was warm and you felt bad for Steve’s poor date. She had no clue what was going on, unlike the rest of you, “is there a problem, Steve? You’re the one that didn’t come out with all of us.”

“Are you on a date? Is that what this is? The two of you are going on a date together?”

“No-”

“Yes,” you insisted over Eddie’s soft no and you heard him sigh lightly. You knew he was trying to get you to tell Steve how you really felt. But you weren’t ready. You just…couldn’t, “yeah, we’re on a date so we’re just, umm…gonna go. Enjoy your evening.”

“Wait - you can’t just…”

“Is there a problem, Harrington?” Fuck, Eddie was mentally begging for the two of you just to get it over with. You were so close but both so damn stubborn. It was a quality that he loved in both of you normally, except right now.

“I…no,” he tried to keep his expression nonchalant, “not at all. The two of you want to date, that’s fine. Who am I to stop you?”

“Right, so we’re going now,” you tugged on Eddie’s hand and hurriedly pulled him away before anyone could say anything else. You sighed heavily as Eddie tutted at you, “don’t say a word, Munson.”

“It was the perfect opportunity,” he insisted, “he was practically staring me to death. He reeked of jealousy!”

“No,” you felt tears of both confusion and frustration well up in your eyes, “Eddie, can you please just drop it? Let’s just get dinner and forget this ever happened.”

“Y-yeah, sure,” he swallowed thickly and he suddenly felt horrible. All he wanted was his friends to get over whatever little game they had going and to finally confess their feelings. Fuck, he wasn’t into overly sentimental stuff, but even he was rooting for it to happen, “whatever you want, princess.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Robin? Are you ready to go?” you walked into Family Video without a second thought as you’d promised to pick her up after work so the two of you could get snacks and have a movie marathon. It was a cold, rainy day and nothing sounded better than getting under a pile of blankets and eating to your heart’s delight. When you didn’t hear anything, you rapped your fingers across the counter, “Robin?”

You heard someone coming from the back but to your shock it wasn’t Robin.

It was Steve.

You panicked immediately, your heart racing as you contemplated just running out. He wasn’t supposed to be here, Robin had said he wouldn’t be. He was supposed to have the day off. But there he was…right in front of you with an unreadable expression etched onto his handsome features.

“Hi,” he said softly as he held up his hand in a small wave. You hated this, this awkward and foreign feeling hanging between the two of you, “Robin’s not here. She was off earlier.”

What the actual fuck. No way. There was no way…she’d planned this. She’d totally schemed to get this happen. You had no doubt Eddie had been right there with her.

“O-oh,” you looked at the floor, “she, umm, she told me she was off now. We were supposed to have a movie marathon, but ugh…I’ll go.”

“How’s Munson?” you looked up and met his eyes and found out that he’d almost closed the distance between you, leaving just enough space to be appropriate. Was he…could Eddie have been right? Was he jealous?

“Eddie’s good,” you nodded, “umm, we’re all hanging out again on Friday. Game night at Nancy and Mike’s. I dunno if you were planning on coming by or whatever now that you’ve got…what’s her name.”

“Allie,” he replied, although you were both well aware that you knew her name.

“Right,” you cleared your throat before moving towards the door, “I, umm…see you around. Maybe.”

You were out of the door and in the middle of the rain before he could say another word. The universe was definitely conspiring against you as the downpour increased on your trek across the parking lot. You’d go home and change and then kill Robin and Eddie. You hoped the two of them had enough sense to at least pretend to be sorry for this mess.

“Wait!” you heard Steve’s voice before you turned around and found him running towards you, “it’s raining too hard! You shouldn’t be driving right now.”

“I’ll be fine!” the two of you almost had to shout at each other over the sound of the pouring rain. Both of you were already drenched at this point, “go back inside, Stevie! You’re already soaking wet.”

“I’m not going out again with Allie!” When did he get so close? He was standing in front of you, only a small gap between your bodies as you found your heart beating rapidly, “are you going out again with Munson?”

“Steve,” he reached up and brushed a few wet, stray locks of hair gently out of your face. His fingertips ghosted against your jaw, “I wasn’t on a date with Eddie. I’m not dating him. We’re just friends.”

“Then why did you say you were on a date?” his face fell slightly as you just shook your head, already feeling the tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

“Why aren’t you seeing Allie again?”

“You know why!” a crack of thunder roared in the distance as you almost jumped into his arms, “you’ve always known why!”

“Stevie-”

“You’re the only person that’s ever been allowed to call me that,” he insisted, the corners of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly, “I hate when anyone else calls me that. I’ve always hated that nickname.”

“Why do you let me do it?”

“You know why,” he repeated as he leaned in closer and you found yourself doing the same. Even in the pouring rain you could smell his delicious cologne clinging to him, mixing in with the sweet scent of skin. It was intoxicating and all consuming, just like everything about Steve Harrington.

“Tell me,” you insisted softly, “please, I need to hear you say it. Why aren’t you seeing her again?”

“Because she’s not you,” his hands found the sides of your face as he gently cradled it in his large, warm hands, “why aren’t you dating Munson?”

“Because he’s not you,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrists and let out a shaky breath. When you allowed yourself to meet his eyes, you found him watching you with the same soft, dopey expression he always had for you. Oh. It was because…oh. He never looked at anyone else like that because -

“I’m in love with you,” his words rang out loud and clear against the pounding of the rain and crackles of thunder in the distance. Your mouth opened lightly in surprise and shock at actually hearing him say those words. You’d pictured this moment at least a thousand times in your head, but none of these scenarios were ever like this, “I-I feel like an idiot because I just realized that. I’ve always known, you but it never fully clicked until-”

“Robin and Eddie,” you finished for him as he nodded in agreement, “I don’t know whether I’m happy or mad at them right now!”

“Can I kiss you?” you knew the moment was coming but his softly spoken question still managed to make your heart beat wildly as you just looked at him with big doe eyes. You leaned in and closed the little bit of remaining distance, crashing your lips onto his. Steve was taken aback for just a moment, but quickly realized what was going on and kissed you back, pouring every single unspoken word into the kiss, trying to get you to understand just how he felt.

You both pulled back when you were breathless, grinning at each other like fools. He pressed his forehead against yours as a wistful little sigh escaped from your lips. Holy shit. You’d just kissed Steve Harrington. Your best friend, your biggest supporter, your…everything. He’d kissed you back. He wanted to kiss you. He was in love with you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to top this moment,” he laughed, that easy sound reaching your ears. It had been too long since you’d heard that sound.

“What? You mean running after me and kissing me in the rain?” you teased as he touched your face and gently brushed his thumb over your cheek, “that’s pretty romantic, Harrington. You could always try though!”

“For you?” he leaned and pecked your lips a few more times, trying to memorize the touch and taste of your lips, “I’ll always try.”

A few flashes of lightning illuminated the sky, quickly followed by rumbling thunder, causing you to cling tightly onto him.

“Let’s get inside!” he insisted as laced his fingers through yours. You marveled at how perfectly your hands fit together, “you’re gonna get wet.”

“I think it’s a little late for that Stevie,” you grinned, “hey.”

“What?”

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” his face practically lit up at your words and that alone made everything worth it, “even if you are an idiot sometimes. You’re my idiot!”

“I love you,” he promised, “you’re my girl.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader #st

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messysketchyobeyme · 1 year

Text

Mammon's snarky comment fizzles and dies at the back of his throat when you cup his cheeks. Your hands–soft, warm, and safe–distract him from whatever he had been complaining about in the first place. Your thumb, feather-like, strokes him underneath his eye. His eyelashes flutter automatically.

His heartbeat quickens like a beating drum until it's the only sound he's able to hear. You're so close, and it's taking everything in Mammon's power not to pull away and scrub away the heat that crawls up his neck to the entirety of his face. It's not like he doesn't want to relish in your touch and the sweet smell of your body wash, but, damn, you have such a way of making his stomach tie itself into knots. It's insane.

His lips move as he attempts to say something–anything–suave as a last-ditch effort to save his dwindling dignity. He yearns to make your heart pound, skin flush, and mind spin–just as you do with him. As always, no sound comes out, and Mammon is left with nothing except your gaze boring into him.

All of the sudden, your eyes trail down until they finally land on his lips. Mammon's entire body goes rigid when, like a crescent moon, the corners of your mouth quirk upward. You mouth, 'May I?' and Mammon's legs almost give out right then and there. He wants to shout into the heavens how much he yearns for it but does nothing except try (and fail) to mask his trembling hands.

He's only able to give a slight nod accompanied by a barely audible gulp. You lean in and plant a kiss on his lips. It's short and over before Mammon has time to process it, but his mouth buzzes all the same. He continues to stand there while fireworks explode in his chest, tearing him apart.

"I'm sorry I'm late," you say.

"Huh?" Mammon's brain takes a moment to start working again. "Oh, oh, yeah, right. Well, ya know better than to keep the Great Mammon waiting." His response is half-hearted and quiet.

You kiss him again.

#Obey Me #Obey Me Mammon #Obey Me MC #Mammmon x Reader #Drabble

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the-possum-writes · 23 days

Note

I loved the fire fin stuff you wrote, Can you write more headcannons about him and the reader trying to keep finn distracted while also trying to turn him back, pls

Subdue the Flame

➼Character: Fire Finn (Finn Mertens)

➼Tags (warnings): headcanons, canon typical violence, gender neutral reader, mentions of servitude, sloppy kisses, misogynistic comments

➼Synopsis: Fire Finn headcanons about distracting him in a fight during the Elemental special.

➼With the fire citizens heading for the Candy Kingdom it's up to you and Lsp to try and de-escalate the situation, mainly with you trying to defeat Flame Princess's newest champion while Lsp retrieves the jewel from Princess Bubblegum.

➼"Are you sure you can handle him? I mean he already beat you once, it’s like a more intense version of Finn... It’s lumpin hot." Lsp mutters as the two of you scout the area.

"Yeah, we just gotta improvise a bit. At least knock him off his sense until I use my secret weapon and defeat his hot headed butt for good!"

"You sound way too eager about this. But no dude you got it all wrong! the real Finn is still in there somewhere you just gotta play into his hero heart ya know? pull one of those 'I know the real you is in there somewhere' kind of speech."

It's hard not to roll your eyes at Lsp's dramatics, but if she's trying to tell you to solve things pacifically first, then sure why not. Like don’t get me wrong, of course saving Finn is a priority but knowing this prick fire version of him, it’s gonna take more than heartily speeches to subdue him.

"By all means, be my guest."

➼It goes as expected, Fire Finn just walks past her spewing something about war drums and threatens to slice her down if she tries to stop him. This is where you come in.

➼You're the only one who can confront Fire Finn either cause you're physically strong enough to match him in a fight or you have the mental fortitude to deal with the stuff he'll say in hopes of saving him.

➼Like, the guy was pulled in and created in a toxic and violent environment so that leads me to believe he's bound to say some hurtful things and make fun of you with low hanging fruit. For example, if you're a gal (or female presenting) he'll spew some misogynic comments about how he's biologically stronger "You don't stand a chance against me, I'm all hardcore muscle." or "You'll regret leaving your sewing room this morning."

➼If not, he'll still boast about how he's stronger than you and will wipe your face on the dirt.

➼Uses insults too. Mainly stuff like: nerd, loser, mouth breather, girlie, wimp, roach, useless scum, motherless bastard, to think of a few.

➼I don't know if he'll fight honorably (since the other fighters have kinda roman gladiator inspired designs) or fight dirty, but now that I think about it he'll most likely do the latter. He'll kick you in the shins and throw sand at your eyes, that's how he gets the upper hand when fighting you.

➼Dominant, ruthless and a huge show off. Overtime he gets too cocky.

"You're too much of a wimp, I bet I can beat you with nothing but my hands."

➼To mock you further he kicks away your bag and your main weapon but not without stabbing his own sword into the ground before approaching you with cracked knuckles, wrestling you into the ground as he continues to belittle you- albeit with suggestive undertones. "Once we're done with these candy nerds they'll be nothing left but cinders and ash. Maybe then I'll take you back to the fire kingdom as my personal training dummy... All for myself~"

➼You don't know if you're reading too much into this whole fight, but It's now that the physical contact makes sense. He tightens his hold on you, purposely grabbing you where you're most sensitive (that would make you blush any other day) before tossing you around like a sack of potatoes, the pain is real but it started giving you an idea.

➼If there's one mistake he's actively making it's that he's completely underestimated you and your brain power that compensates your lack of extra brawn to beat him on a one on one.

➼"Oh woo is me, you're obviously the better opponent. Might as well start getting used to serving you as you deserve." you cry out, causing Fire Finn to quirk a nonexistent eyebrow. He grips your hair by the back of your head, purposely raising you to his eye level.

➼"And how would you start serving me?" He asks, suspicious of your change of attitude but quickly allured by the promise of servitude.

➼You momentarily lick your lips, it's subtle but hypes you up for what's to come. "Like this," and you lean forward to kiss the fire elemental on the lips completely unprompted. It's a risky move, and considering Fire Finn isn't returning the kiss you're 90% certain that he's gonna slap or throw you away but the second you attempt to remove yourself from him he instead tightens his hold on your hair and pushes you back into his eager mouth, opening it up as his tongue dwells all around yours in unexpected wanton. You try your best to reprocitate but he's completely controlling in this situation as well, now holding your face with both hands as he gives you the sloppiest kiss you've ever had.

➼Underestimating how sharp his teeth are, you cut your tongue on it and has you groaning at the unpleasant metallic taste in your mouth, fidgeting in the spot as you try to pull yourself from his hold but it only served to rile him up further, running his tongue over the wound.

He eventually pulls you away to catch his breath, completely devouring your breaths as you exhale to take in the fresh air.

➼His reaction is more enthusiastic than you expected. In fact it's his crazed expression that ultimately snapped you out of your foggy daze, immediately taking advantage of his unguarded walls and you kick him where he counts.

➼Now he's the one falling like a sack of potatoes.

➼You suddenly rush to your discarded backpack as you hear him shout angrily behind you.

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! I WILL MAKE IT TORTUROUS FOR YOU! I WON'T REMOVE MY HANDS FROM YOU UNTIL YOUR WAILING AND BEGGING FOR RELEASE BY THE TIP OF MY SWORD!"

➼There's no time to ponder what kind of punishment he's talking about since he's immediately back on his feet and just a few steps away from you, but the second you grab your hidden weapon it's over for this fire elemental. You pull out a plastic water gun and spray it all over Fire Finn, watching him shout in agony as he steps back as you blast him into submission until he lays beaten on the ground. "This is why you need a safe word my dude." You finally spew a well deserved taunt.

➼And to make matters worse and more humiliating for the fire kin, you snap a fireproof collar around his neck, courtesy of Wizard Betty.

"What is this contraption?!"

"It's a little something from a friend, a temporary solution until we find out how to turn you back to normal."

➼With a sigh, you sit back as you watch the fallen warrior attempt to rip out the collar only for it's safety mechanism to activate and spray him with cool water, like one of those automatic car window things.

"I DEMAND YOU RELEASE ME!!"

"You're not in a spot to make demands my dude, so unless you wanna turn into a popsicle you'll have to follow me." You eventually stand up with a more nonchalant attitude compared to earlier, still wincing a bit since your safety now doesn't take away that Fire Finn pulled a heavy number on you.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" He threatens, but the collar activated again before he could lay his blue hands on your neck.

"Maybe, if you say please~?"

"DIE!"

#adventure time x reader #adventure time imagines #finn mertens x reader #finn the human #finn the human x reader #adventure time

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 10 months

Text

Kaz Brekker x gn! Reader - Eyes on you

A/n: Have a bit of fluff while I brew up some angsty parental! kanej and nikolai fics!

Summary: Y/n doesn't want to take their eyes off their lover, the crows take notice

Warnings: swearing, very cheesy, mentions of violence alluded to the reader having adhd (I didn't realize till after I had written it, but perhaps that's because I have adhd-) ooc Kaz, I think that's it? You have been warned!

The Three P's:

[Pronouns used: you/your, they/them] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic!) kaz x reader, (romantic!) helnik, (platonic) crows x reader, (platonic!) nina x reader]

"I can't believe he let us go on that heist without telling us the whole plan." Wylan huffed as the crows were gathered at a table at the Crow Club. "I thought after the ice court he would've told us something that important." He grumbles.

"It's Kaz." Jesper snorts as he puts an arm around the merchling's shoulders. "What did you expect?"

Normally you would've interjected about now and defended Kaz, you had been dating him for about six years now. Though, the both of you were very quiet about you're relationship meaning that the crows didn't actually know you were together.

Of course the two of you were quiet, Kaz had enemies who were just waiting to pounce. Prowling back and forth, trying to play the long game. Quite frankly over the years you too had made some people not very happy with you. At this point though, you probably could've told the crows, but even now they were still alluded from the truth.

Which made some conversations very fun and others where you'd want to throw yourself over a bridge because of how dense they were. You were just waiting for them to figure it out by now.

Going back to your reason as to why you couldn't interject, it may or may not have been because you had been too busy staring at your boyfriend to put your word in there.

Honestly though, who could blame you? Kaz Brekker was always so pretty, but today he just looked absolutely ethereal, you didn't know why, because he was still just in the clothes that he usually wears. He still had the same haircut, and he certainly hadn't done anything out of the ordinarily (for you anyways) but he just looked drop dead gorgeous.

Not that he didn't usually, but most of the time you could force your eyes away from his beautiful figure, but today they stayed focused solely on him. Although it certainly was nothing to complain about, as you gazed at Kaz with love clear as the morning sun in your eyes.

"Y/n, are you listening?" Nina, your first, and one of your bestfriends, snapped her fingers in front of your face to break you out of your trance.

"Oh ya, sorry." You muttered and turned your gaze away from the bastard and back onto your group of friends.

"As I was saying," Nina started up again as she plopped down into a blushing Matthias's lap again.

Really you had all the intentions of paying attention but then the sneaky Dirtyhands himself had placed a very light touch on your shoulder as he practically breathed down your neck as the hairs stood up and your posture straighten.

Fuck Kaz, he really brought out the worst in your short attention span.

Then he sat down in the chair next to you so that your thighs were touching. Your heart was beating out of your chest, it had to have sounded like a drum to your peers.

Kaz leaned in next to your ears and brushed a gloved finger over your collarbone, like the fresh autumn leaves tickling your skin.

"I've seen you staring love." He whispered.

Your breath caught in your throat and you momentarily forgot to suck in some very vital air.

But you wouldn't be Kaz Brekker's partner if it weren't for the fact that you could keep up with him.

You were equals after all.

"And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

Kaz chuckled, but a light blush dusted over his cheeks as his ears turned red. Only you could make the bastard of the barrel blush, something you would rave on about for ages if you could.

"Come outside with me? I have something to ask." He purred, as his hand came to link with yours.

"Okay?" You replied rather confused, but going along with one of the most dangerous men in Ketterdam anyways.

"Where are you going?" Inej questioned the both of you, as you two stood up.

You had forgotten that you had an audience of friends around you that a) didn't know you were together, and b) were very nosy and love gossip.

"Going to go make out in a closet some where." Jesper joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I wouldn't make out with Y/n in a closet, they deserve more. Unlike you and the merchling over there." Kaz speaks in the most monotone voice know to man as the crows chock on their own spit and stare at the two of you with wide eyes.

"What!" Nina squawks.

"Why do you all look so surprised? I'm allowed to kiss my boyfriend if I want to?" You ask the group, your eyebrows frowning.

"BOYFRIEND?!" They all yell in shock as you curse your scatter brain for forgetting for one second that they didn't know. Kaz making innuendos is a bit different then you revealing that the two of you had been together for years and you guys were just waiting until they realized.

"I owe Matthias so much money!" Jesper exclaims with a gasp as he fake faints into Wylan's side.

"You guys bet on us?" You question them, crossing your arms over your chest while your face appeared annoyed, you couldn't truly hide your amused expression as well as your boyfriend.

Inej sighs. "They did, I didn't. Jesper and Nina said you guys were just friends, Wylan said you guys love each other but would never date, and Matthias said you guys had already been dating for months."

"Months?" Kaz questions with a smirk on his face.

"Kaz." You growl under your breath trying to warn him not to push his luck. "Nina can raise the dead." You attempt to remind him, but your luck might just have run out.

"You have not been dating my best friend for more than a few months." Nina says crossing her arms over her chest.

You give her a rather sympathetic look that tells her everything she needs to know.

"No!" She gasps in disbelief. "There's no way you've been dating for more than six months, at the most!"

"Turn the word months into years and you have your answer Zenik."

"SIX YEARS!" She screams making you wince at the volume. "Kaz Brekker! You've been corrupting Y/n for six fucking years and we didn't know!"

Kaz only rolls his eyes and takes your hand in his, almost impatiently. Disregarding all your friends and their gaping mouths.

"Yes, now get over it because we have something planned." Kaz mutters with an irritated look on his face as he pulls you away from your friends.

_____________

"We're definitely following them right?" Jesper says as he bounces to his feet pulling poor Wylan along with him.

"Oh, yes." Nina agrees while cracking her knuckles.

________________

"Kaz this is beautiful." You spoke in awe as you gazed upon a small valley of wonderful blue flowers that nearly appeared to glow in the dark.

It had taken quite the walk to get here, but it was just outside of Ketterdam so it could have been much worse. Even if it had been an longer walk it still would've been worth it, this place just gave you an amazing feeling. Almost akin to the same feeling Kaz gave you, just not quite. Nothing could beat that.

"Thank you for bringing me."

"I didn't just bring you here for one purpose." He replied as he turned to face you, and grabbed your hands with his own ungloved shaking ones.

"Y/n L/n you are everything." He whispers as if the words were hard to find, hard to conjure.

"Marry me, make me Kaz L/n."

Your eyes widened in shock, your hands went to cover your mouth as tears of joy filled your face and you nod your head erratically yes.

"Say it, please I need to hear you say it." He begs.

"Yes, Kaz! Of course I'll marry you."

He smiles one of his rare ones and your foreheads go to touch as you both close your eyes taking in everything and-

"Congratulations! The Crows jump out of nowhere a bit sheepishly.

Kaz looked like he was about to murder them but you threw your head back in laughter.

Your fiancee, and your friends - your family was all around you. What else could you ever need but this? Your soul grinned, and your heart was filled.

Words 1400

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

#kaz brekker #shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #grishaverse #nina zenik #nina zenik x reader #matthias helvar #the crows #the crows x reader #delusion writes

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milfgyuu · 1 year

Text

Bubble Boy Pairing: Song Mingi x GN!Reader Tags: 2.3k, Neighbors!AU, F2L, Fluff, Kissing booboos. Series: Mr. Right Next Door Summary: It always starts with a loud thud or groan ringing out before your sweet but terribly uncoordinated, accident-prone neighbor is knocking at your door. The only thing lucky in Mingi’s life is having you to put him back together.

Warnings: lots of injury talk but nothing explicit, some kissing and suggestive tones toward the end.

Mingi should have known better than to attempt taking all of his groceries up in one trip but he lives in a third floor apartment and can’t fathom performing the extra work necessary to take multiple trips just so he can carry slightly lighter loads. Not after the longest work day ever.

That is how he first found himself seated in your living room, anxiously drumming his fingers against the edge of your couch cushion while you cleaned and treated his raw and bloodied knees, elbows, and chin. He’d made it to the third floor only to misstep on the last stretch of stairs and eat the concrete. You’d found him with his groceries scattered, in the fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest and grumbling a string of profanities under his breath.

Still in your scrubs and just home from the hospital, you’d carefully helped him pack the spilled items back into the bags and carried half the load into his apartment. When he explained he didn’t have so much as a simple Band-Aid and insisted he’d ‘be alright’ you spent another five minutes arguing with him about infection before you’d just dragged him over to your apartment next door and broke out the first aid kit.

After that, you very quickly learned that Mingi was somewhat of a disaster.

Cuts, burns, bruises, scrapes, bumps, hives - you name it - Mingi has been a patient in your home for it. Your first aid kid saw more action than a sporting spectator and over many long months of nursing him back to health time and time again you realize there’s been a shift in your dynamic of neighborly nurse and patient.

At first it feels like a shock, like it’s happened all of a sudden but laying in your bed tonight, listening to the background sounds from the television you replay in your head some of the moments that led up to such a startling discovery.

Frankly, it wasn’t new or sudden at all.

There was that one morning Mingi burnt his arm in the kitchen and then tried to hide the injury from you in the mail room. You brought him back up stairs to clean and treat it, carefully avoiding his quivering bottom lip because he was trying to be brave and you let him think you didn’t notice. He gifted you a basket of muffins the next day with a little hand written note to thank you and poke fun at himself by saying there were no big idiots harmed in the making.

Another night, another knock on the door, which you opened to reveal Mingi, red, splotchy, and covered in hives up his neck and down his arms. Turned out, he was allergic the new houseplant he bought - because ya know, he’s also allergic to animals and wanted something to care for. You slathered him in itching cream, gave him Benadryl, and sat nearby as he snoozed on your couch, getting up every few minutes to see if the reaction was getting better.

You personally re-homed that plant to an elderly woman two floors down in another building and then accompanied him to the pet store to buy a fish. Mingi had been elated and also dumbstruck that he hadn’t thought of a fish in the first place. You named him together and Mingi constantly sent you pictures of his best buddy, Aloe, the betta fish.

The memory of Mingi’s frantic call in the middle of your shift still gives you chills and you twist uncomfortably in bed. He’d somehow managed to get his hand smashed beneath some heavy machinery at work and had called for advice. Heart filled with dread and beating out of your chest, you unintentionally yelled at him to get to the emergency room immediately, where you paced and paced until he’d arrived.

Three broken fingers and a fractured wrist later you swore up and down that you’d put him in a bubble if that’s what it took to keep him in one piece. Mingi just chuckled and used his good hand to gently pluck a fallen eyelash off your cheek. You’d gone absolutely silent and your cheeks grew hot when he lifted it to your lips and told you to make a wish.

Presently, you squeeze your eyes closed and try to quell the jittery feeling in your bones.

It only brings about another memory of the time Mingi had caught the flu. You had gone over to his door the moment you read his text, ‘hey….what’s considered a fever?’

He was still in his pajamas, hair mussed and sticking up in the back, his cheeks red, and eyes drooping. He still smiled at you and your heart clenched almost painfully as you walked him back into his apartment. You changed his sheets, set out fresh clothes for him after a hot bath, cleaned his home, cooked his meals, held his glass of water as you fed the bendy straw between his lips. He indeed had a fever and continued to sweat through the blankets you piled on at his request but he never stopped smiling at you.

Mingi was always smiling at you and the realization pushes sleep even further from your reaches. That’s how you hear the crash between your thins walls so easily.

It’s cold outside and you regret not throwing on a jacket or a pair of pajama pants beneath your night dress but Mingi doesn’t leave you out in the cold for long after you rap your frozen knuckles against the blue door of his apartment.

Because the peephole is mysteriously shattered and the management company has yet to fix it, he curiously cracks the door, peering out with one cautious eye before realizing its you.

Who else would be on his doorstep at eleven at night?

“Oh, hey!” he opens the door further, dim light illuminating your pitiful shivering, “What are you doing here so late?”

You step forward to duck under his arm and into his home, the warmth of it seeping a little too slowly into your bones. “I heard the crash,” you mutter in response, furiously rubbing your arms and focusing on his television oddly set to the same channel yours was left on.

Mingi grabs a blanket off the couch and sets it over your shoulders. He pulls together the two ends until you’re wound like a burrito and rubs his hands up and down your arms with a soft grin. “Better?”

You nod for him and scan his lanky frame head to toe. There doesn’t really seem to be anything amiss aside from the slowly blossoming red mark on his forehead, just above his glasses.

Narrowing your eyes, you point a blanket covered finger at it. “What did you do?”

He lets out a little embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, this?,” he points at it himself, “I made some popcorn to watch a movie but when I went to grab a bowl, all the Tupperware sort of tumbled out like a landslide and I tried to catch them all at once but I bent down too fast and hit my head on the stovetop.”

Biting your lip to contain the laughter that threatens to etch a smile onto your face, you cover your mouth and snicker into the blanket instead. Mingi pokes your shoulder. “I know you’re laughing at me. It’s okay.”

You cross your arms, fortifying your blanket cocoon, and grin. “You’re hopeless.”

“At least I have you to fix me.”

His voice is too soft when he says it and it empties your brain of any potential responses.

A minute goes by where neither of you say anything. You simply stand there looking at each other and then you realize it’s too quiet and someone has to say something.

“Well, um,” you avert your eyes to the ground as if the answer is there before looking back to him, “I suppose you look alright…I should probably get back home…”

“You should stay.”

He says it so quickly you’re not sure he meant to say it at all.

“I mean,” he shifts on his feet, scratching at the back of his head, “You should stay, if you want to, and uh, watch the movie with me,” he presses his lips together and rocks on his heels before throwing a thumb up in the direction of the kitchen, “I made popcorn…”

“I like popcorn.” Not really an answer but he takes it, breaking into a smile.

“Cool.”

Hanging out with Mingi has never felt so nerve wracking until now but you’re chalking that up to the fact that you’ve never been in his home so late at night, in your pajamas, huddled up on the couch to share a bowl of popcorn and a movie. And the fact that you’d been spending the entire evening just before this replaying all of Mingi’s greatest hits in your mind trying to track down when and where you started falling for him.

More than once, you’ve reached your hand into the bowl only to find Mingi’s and vice versa, the both of you awkwardly laughing and pulling away. The plot of the film he’d chosen is easy to pinpoint but the tension between your shoulders is not and you hope he doesn’t notice when he throws his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers barely brushing the material of the leather couch where you sit.

It’s seemingly unintentional because he is entirely focused on the screen and laughing at the movie. The rest of his long, lean body is relaxed, slouched against the cushions, with his legs spread wide, one foot kicked up on the edge of the table. He’s simply getting comfortable and then he’s looking over at you and you realize you’re still looking at him and his brows furrow.

“What’s wrong?”

You tuck your legs a little tighter beneath you and straighten your spine. “Oh, nothing, I was just checking your head, there is still a red mark there.”

Hardly. It’s well on it’s way to disappearing entirely and he laughs. “I don’t suppose you have any magic tricks to fix it, do you?”

You relax a little, smiling back at him. “I don’t think I’ve got anything for this one.”

Mingi purses his lips as if he’s disappointed. “I mean,” his eyes dart up to yours and he smirks, “You could probably kiss it and make it better.”

With a huff of laughter you stare back at him in awe. “I don’t think that’s scientifically proven.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “Worth a try.”

“Come here,” you inch your finger and the amusement in his face dies down a little as he leans in just close enough for your breath to hitch. You look at him for a moment, appreciating his handsome face in your close proximity and then you reach up and…flick him in the forehead.

“Hey!” he pouts, sitting up to rub the spot with his fingers before you grab his arm and tug him back down. This time you cup both cheeks in your hands, rubbing your thumbs over his soft skin and you kiss his forehead softly. When you try to let him go, Mingi catches your wrists and stills you before you can pull away.

“Better?” you whisper quietly, just like his question earlier.

But he shakes his head, eyes never leaving yours. “Worse,” he whispers back, “Now I won’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

You swallow around nothing. “Something wrong with your lips too?”

Mingi smiles, his tone ringing with amusement. “Something like that.”

He slips one hand around to cradle the back of your head, two of his fingers still wrapped and healing and he presses his lips to yours. For all his clumsiness, Mingi doesn’t tremble the way you do when you bring your arms around him. He pulls you closer, almost into his lap and you let him, welcoming his warmth and gentle touch.

Dipping your fingers beneath the neckline of his loose t-shirt, you find a small raised scar and you trace over it a few times before you pull back to smile at the beautiful, uncoordinated man beneath you. “What’s this one from?”

He huffs out a laugh and traces his thumb over your cheek. “My brother tried to throw a toy car at the back of my head when we were kids,” he explains and then smirks, “He missed.”

Your eyes catch on another scar, just near his collar bones. He shivers when you run your fingertip over that one too.

“Accidental burn when I first started welding.”

It’s his turn to hold his breath when you lean down and kiss the scar but your confidence evaporates as you straighten yourself, avoiding looking him directly in the eye. Mingi’s hand cups your chin and he makes you look at him, so similar to the way you’ve done in the past when cleaning up that cut above his eyebrow, the scar hardly visible now.

“If you’re going to kiss every scar, you’ll be here for a very long time.”

“I think I’ll let you take me on a few dates before I start kissing things in places no one else can see.”

Mingi’s cheeks burn and he steals a quick kiss. “We can go on as many dates as you want.”

“Where should we start?”

Fingers now comfortably laced behind your back, he grins, “How about the trampoline park?”

“So you can break a leg?” you raise a brow at him to be serious but he only grins.

“I’m not worried,” thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin, “I’ve got you, right?”

Indeed he does.

Series M.List | ATZ M.List | Main M.List

#ateez fanfic #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #kvanity #mingi fanfic #mingi fluff #mingi oneshot #song mingi fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez series #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshot #kpop fluff #lana writes #kpop series

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awingedinsect · 2 months

Text

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 9

Word count: 2k

Warnings: slight past trauma, cursing, the briefest of allusions to SH again, III is mean but he’s getting softer. I swear.

“Are you really okay?”

His eyes peeled off the keyboard, growing instantly unfocused as she opened the door and stared at him. He sat crossed-legged on the bed, the slats of the window shades casting him in stripes.

“What?” His fingers fidgeted with the loops of a big, prominent white bow stuck on the corner of the instrument. His sleeves fell to his wrists. “Of course I am.”

She stood silently for too long, brows knit. His heart struck up a quicker beat.

“You know, you don’t have to lie to me.” She said. “I want you to talk to me. I’m your mom, for god's sake.”

“I’m fine, I swear.” He said, trying to look assuring. “Just tuning this thing, right now.”

His eyes met the carpet at her feet. She was thinking about it too, he knows. He’d memorized the crimson trail on it, now faded a dark meaningless brown that even his sisters eyes follow sometimes.

Even his sisters.

He swallowed, lashes fluttering. “…I’m gonna take her to the beach.”

“Sure you don’t wanna come?” II’s eyes wander back to him one last time as he stands in the doorway, IV holding it open with a set of keys in his hand. He waits patiently as Vessel shoves his hands in the front of his hoodie, swaying casually on his bare feet. “It’s gonna be a good time, and I know Matt would love to meet ya!” He grins, a laugh in his eyes. “Pretty sure he thinks we’re making you up.”

II has brought his friend Matthew up a couple times now. An old friend from school, now playing drums in his own garage band. The three of them were gonna go bowling today, and of course both II and IV had asked him to come along. But he politely refused. Today is the day he’s gonna take the bandage off of his forehead, and maybe talk to III about the upcoming gig, since he’s still not positive he’s even involved. Though by the end of the conversation he might need a couple new bandaids.

“I guess he’ll have to keep wondering.” Vessel says, a soft smile on his lips. He truly does love the drummer, and he hopes he’s not too disappointed. “I’m not really feeling it today, man. But next time for sure.”

“Well, try and have a nice day around here.” II says, taking a step further out the door and nodding over Vessels shoulder into the house. “You got mister grumpy pants all to yourself, bruv.”

Vessels not sure whether the look II and IV share is sympathetic, amused, or just generally deeper than he understands. But they both have stupid smiles that make him wish he was in the know.

But instead of questions they finally step outside, crunching down the gravel path as he waves them off.

He locks the door behind them.

It’s not what he was expecting.

He holds his bangs up off of his forehead, dropping the cloth into the sink and turning his face slowly in the overhead light.

To be fair, this isn’t the first time he’s taken it off. He’s been showering and waking up to it on the floor beside the sofa, making him wonder just how much he tosses and turns these days. But he always puts it back on before the mirror can beckon him.

There’s something that terrifies him about the whole thing. About the gap in his memories of that night, in which the damn thing must have been carved into him in the first place. The voice in his head feels like it hums from behind the simple scrap of cloth. And the idea of his reflection also being part of the same nightmare in his head would truly prove that, whatever this is, it’s something that won’t leave him.

His shaking fingers graze the raised flesh, following a perfect line that crosses and knits with a few others. He’d say it was a burn, if he didn’t so clearly remember the blood dripping into his eyes. He doesn’t know what it means or what it says, but the meaning is clear;

Mine.

It means that he is owned.

Swiping the hair back into his face, he gives himself a final inspection. You can barely tell it’s there now, and there’s a definite relief at the sight of an otherwise regular bloke in the mirror. With the last few weeks, the dodging his reflection and the ever growing estrangement from his own body, he’d almost forgotten he’s not a monster.

He looks nice.

He almost looks good.

“Alright then,” he says, brushing some lint of his hoodie and picking a dead flake off his lips. “Alright then.”

He treads quietly toward the door at the end of the hallway. There’s not a sound in the house, apart from the faint shuffle of his jeans and a distant flicker that he can’t place. He’s almost scared to breathe wrong, so he really doesn’t at all.

His knuckles rap three quick taps on the door.

His tongue presses the roof of his mouth, mindlessly preparing a “thhh” after he’s met with nothing but silence for a few seconds. But when his weight shifts on the floorboards in what must be the most obnoxious noises known to bassist he hears a quiet “bloody hell” on the other side, followed by a “come in.”

He turns the knob, almost embarrassed by his timidity. Why the fuck is he so nervous? He’s been carried completely naked and unconscious by this guy, he’s been poked and prodded and felt his hot breath on his tear-stained cheeks. he’s been punched in the eye hard enough to floor him and he’s made stupid fucking sounds while quite literally being bathed. So why in god’s name is standing like an 6’4” shadow in the same man’s doorway about the most awkward thing he’s ever been through?

“Um… hello.”

III’s bedroom is about exactly what he expected. On the smaller side, eclectic piles of knickknacks, clothes and colorful decorations all around, not to mention enough incense to knock a person out. There’s a record player spinning lazily by the window, the needle scratching the middle of the vinyl like it’s been forgotten for hours. And on the floor- crossed-legged with his back to the door -is III, hair sprawled all over his head like it hasn’t seen a brush in days.

“What are you doing?” Vessel asks, shoulders getting less tense as he stands curiosity drinking up the sight. He stares at III’s closed eyes in the floor-length mirror.

“Shhh.”

“Meditating?”

“Shhhh.”

“Why would you tell me to come in if it’s a bad time?”

A distressed groan comes out of III and he turns his head, spindly body twisting around to lock him in a glare. “You need something, blud?”

Vessel looks at his feet for a minute, gathering his thoughts. III’s face is bathed in the colors of the several stained glass ornaments in the window, sifting through his long lashes and glowing in his stern eyes. There’s a few candles flickering around the room.

Instead of answering, Vessel decides to just walk in and sit down on the bed. Not something III was expecting, proven as he twists around and straightens fully to eye him. Vessel pulls his feet up onto the bedspread, sitting like an obnoxious cat while still retaining a bit of uncertainty. And it gets just the right reaction out of III.

“I wanted to ask about the gig. II told me one’s coming up and I… was curious about my role.”

III’s eyes are boring into him relentlessly. But again, it feels like a challenge over anything else. Vessel stays put, meeting the stare. A hard swallow tugs on his throat.

“You hoping we’ll let ya sing?”

Vessel’s face flushes, and he can’t help but break the eye contact for a second. He dismisses it by picking at a loose thread in his jeans. “Well I’ve got an extremely flexible schedule. And I’ve been singing with you all, now, for a bit.” He says, offering an awkward sort of smile. “I thought maybe… I was official.”

“Official.” III rolls the word around his mouth, tasting it for a second out of courtesy. But it’s obviously a bit sour. “You think you’re number one all the sudden, blud?”

That’s definitely not what he said. That’s definitely not what he insinuated. God, having a conversation with this man is insufferable. And here he was trying to be polite.

“Well I have been pouring my heart and ass into performing for you guys these last few weeks, crazy to think it wasn’t just for shits and gigs, right?”

III stands up to his full height at that, casting a long shadow down the bed that makes Vessel question his choice of words. “You’ve been fuckin crashing here, you twat.” He bites. “Hiding from the cops on my fuckin sofa and havin fun with a borrowed mic in the meanwhile. You’re welcome, by the fuckin way.” He rests his fist on a sharp hip, throwing a gesture of Vessel’s head. “Looks like you're good as new, now. Ready to go home.”

Oh, hell no. None of that. Vessel’s mouth twists in a scowl, since he’s not sure how else to react to that slew of shit. His throat tightens.

Home.

“First of all, the fun I’ve been having with you guys could of got me enough money by now to call that goddam motel home for another fucking month, if I wasn’t up here singing for the damn squirrels. Second I didn’t ask for any of this shit, I didn’t ask for the fire or these new scars, or any of the things you’ve blamed me for. I’m just fucking tired, man.” The knot in his throat is no idle threat anymore, and he goes quiet, staring up at those deep, frozen eyes. “…Why do you hate me?”

III is silent for a long moment. His lips form a thin line, hair shadowing his features as he bows his head and contemplates something. Most likely, just how he’ll murder him.

He steps closer. And then he fucking shoves him in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. He thuds back on the springy mattress, arms falling at his sides and gripping the quilt awkwardly as III towers over him like a goddam predator.

“You’re a bloody good singer.” He says, watching Vessel’s mouth fall open with some short breathes. “The boys like you.”

Each word seems carefully chosen; a gift he only has half a mind to give. The bassist sighs long and hard out his nose.

“You can get up there with us on one fucking condition.” He says. “Cover your fucking face. You might say your innocent, but until I get a whole story and some proof out of your ass, none of us fucking know you. Understand?”

Vessel nods against the bed, something serious in his face now. He doesn’t want to be seen.

“I need a keyboard.” He says, moving on impressively fast from the demand. There’s simply something atrociously fitting about the idea of a mask.

“And there’ll probably be one, too.” III says. “Just make a half decent sound either way.” He moves towards the door now, lifting a weight off of Vessel, who props up on his elbows and watches as he leaves.

“Don’t fuck up.” III says, locking him in one last stare. “Anything.”

He doesn’t have to mention II or IV to make his point. It’s clear as day, and so is Vessel’s resolve to prove that yes, he can be trusted. He can be liked. It doesn’t matter if he’s wearing a mask or not; he wants to be authentic and knowable. Something he’s not sure he’s ever been before.

Besides, the mask will cover up the scar.

It’ll keep the voice inside.

He’s suddenly left alone in the bedroom, unsure of what to do. The record player keeps scratching and the candles keep flickering, and slowly he gets up, wandering to the window. He picks the needle up gingerly, setting it on the rim of the vinyl.

The static is such a familiar sound.

“Clock strikes, upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade…”

#vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token art #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iii #art #sleep token #vessel art #sleep token ii #sleep token fanart

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canonfeminine · 1 month

Text

　　YOUR THE ONLY PERSON I'LL PLAY FOR.

🎸 . . . Leo Valdez x Band kid! Reader

in which: Leo is the only person you'll allow to make song requests.

authors note: OKAY SOOOOOOO. I did say I was cooking something up so this and the next one I make is for my pookie @hopelesslyromantic-shark & my awesome sister @sunnitheapollokid. I hope you guys enjoy this one :3 Also, fun fact, I used to be a band kid! I played the flute and the clarinet ( I would still be one today, but my teacher was a little too mean for my fragile heart 🙇)

warnings: none !

　　　　　　 Now playing: YA YA ─── Beyoncé

The only thing you liked about going to school for was band.

Lets be honest, when you're doing something after school like a sport, that becomes the only reason you want to go to school. You get to do something you like while you are surrounded by people who are just as excited as you. And since you weren't a sports girl, it was band class. And even though you didn't play the piano or the trumpet, the teachers still liked your energy.

Oh, and Leo did too.

The two of you met during a session in detention (you both were the class clowns of each respective class,) and you guys almost imminently bonded over your similar interest of dark humor and musical interest. You also found out Leo played the drums.. and lets just say you fell for him over that.

But, one thing you and other Band players got used to was people asking for song requests. Y'know, people ask if you can play this song with your instrument or attempt to. Not that you didn't like trying new things, but do you know how annoying it is when you get out of band class all tired and some kids (you don't know) come up to you and ask for you to play [ insert song ] for them. You say no, they get mad, and then you've somehow made somebody mad because you didn't wanna play Ed Sheeran on your electric guitar.

So for the most part, you stayed away from people who would ask if you could play them a song. Well, except for your boyfriend, Leo.

Was it a little wrong to let your mans ask for requests but not others? yeah. But did they understand how you felt? nope! so they don't get to ask for you to play any song privileges.

So one day, when your oh so awesome boyfriend came up to you and asked if you can play a Beyoncé song (you both love Beyoncé,) you were glad to play it for him.

It took you a second to actually play it since you had to hear the song a few times to understand how the beat went, but once you got it? there was no stopping you. You played the full song with the song playing in your headphones, so you couldn't hear how you were playing. Leo sat next to you, tapping his fingers onto his thigh. At first, you thought he was just being his normal fidgety self, but really—he was tapping the lyrics in Morse code.

How did you know?

The little dude asked you out in Morse code. He knew that you'd be able to decipher what he was trying to say, so he just did it. And somehow, it worked. It was hands down one of the most well-thought out and geeky things you'd ever seen anyone do.

"Hey, [your name] ?" Leo moved one side of the headphones you were wearing off your ear so you could hear him.

"Yeah?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Wanna play the song together?" he asked, a smirk slowly being placed onto his lips.

You smiled back. "You already know the answer to that."

Let's just say, the two of you caused quite the ruckus in the music room that day.

#𓂃 ✴: zuri’s fics!#hehe this was fun to write #I had to check if I spelled instrument right #like.. three or five times #y'all got me working frfr #omg I have to go update my mastelist BRB <3 #heros of olympus #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez headcanons #Leo Valdez pjo #pjo hoo toa

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frvnkcastles · 1 year

Text

TRAPPED IN YESTERDAY ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank helps you through a panic attack after you’ve been triggered.

Warnings: Feminine nicknames used, panic attack, vomiting, implied PTSD, reader is triggered but trigger is unspecified

Word count: 879

Panic coursed through your veins, igniting every molecule ablaze with chaos as you stumbled out of the elevator and towards your apartment’s door, shaky hands struggling to find the right key. Your vision was blurry through the scared tears and you could only hear your own, heavy breaths mixed with the fast drumming of your heartbeat — you could hardly even tell how you made it out of the bus and up to your floor, but you were moving on autopilot now, bursting through the front door at the brink of hyperventilating.

”Hey, sweetheart”, Frank’s low voice tried to break through the buzzing in your ears, his casual greeting soon replaced with worry when it went unanswered. ”Baby, you okay?” you could hear him ask, but you didn’t have it in you to say anything; only the attempt to part you lips made nausea rise up your throat and you headed straight for the bathroom.

Boots still on, bag dropped in the middle of the hallway as you rushed to the toilet, you felt the acid crawl up to your mouth and before you could process what was happening, you fell to your knees and let it all out.

Frank, of course, was up and off of the couch faster than lightning.

”Hey, hey, hey.” He was by your side in a blink of an eye, knelt on the floor without a second’s hesitation while he gathered astray strands of your hair in his large hands and frowned at the sight of you bent over the toilet bowl. ”’S okay, let it out. ’M right here, aight?” he assured you with simple sentences, not wavering from your side even if he wasn’t sure what was going on. This was the first time he witnessed something like this with you, and he couldn’t deny that the fear and anxiety of not knowing if you were alright were already banging at the door in his heart.

You spat, and then fell back to sit on the floor, tears streaming down your cheeks and your shoulders rising and falling with your ragged, uneven breaths. Now that was familiar to Frank — he knew exactly what a panic attack looked like, and he was grateful you had told him how to help before. Finally, he could do something.

”Easy, easy. Eyes on me, sweetheart”, he rasped, sitting down with you and placing both hands on your shoulders to ground you, his thumb massaging the bone. ”Breathe with me. C’mon, you can do it”, he continued when you managed to look over to him, only to find him staring at you in all seriousness but with so much confidence in you that you almost believed you could do it, too.

”Hey, I know it’s scary in that pretty head o’yours right now, but you got this. Attagirl”, he promised, dramatically inhaling and exhaling so you could follow his lead.

”It’s stupid”, you finally managed to utter out, eyes falling shut as you reached for his hand and squeezed. ”It was so stupid—”, you continued, a cry escaping your mouth loudly, and shushing you, Frank interjected.

”Shh, sh, sweetheart, nah, don’t do that. It ain’t stupid. Squeeze my hand, yeah? Lemme know how it feels”, he encouraged with an even tone, and following his instructions, you gripped his larger hand as tight as you could. The warmth and calloused feeling of his skin gave you something to quite literally hold onto, and slowly, your breaths began to slow down.

”There ya go”, he whispered, ”that’s my girl.”

Nodding to confrm that you had it under control, you swallowed and continued to breathe with concentrated effort. In hindsight, it really did feel stupid. One minute you had been sitting on the bus, on your way home, earphones in and your finger tapping your thigh along the beat of your favorite song — the next, you were thrown back into the horrible, nightmarish feeling that you couldn’t have been more sick of reliving. Flashbacks had hit you like a bullet train and the walls had begun to close down on you, sending you into a spiral that seemingly only Frank could snap you out of.

”Can I hold you, baby?” Frank spoke quietly, and with your eyes opening to spot him eyeing you with worry, you gave him a nod. He didn’t hesitate to position himself so that his legs were around you and your head could rest on his chest, his arms folding around your chest as he held you tight and close. He breathed in the scent of your hair and left a kiss on the crown of your head, needing this as much as you did.

”I’m sorry I worried you”, you mumbled, and with a disapproving click of his tongue, Frank shook his head.

”It ain’t like you chose this shit, huh? You got nothin’ to be sorry ’bout. ’M just glad I could be here to help”, he reassured, resting his jaw on the top of your head as he caressed your arm softly.

”You always help”, you sighed, and with a weak smile, Frank hummed.

”Right back at ya. Coulda been me on this floor, y’know? I got you. You got me”, he reminded, and with a heavy exhale, you nodded.

”We got this.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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syn4k · 10 months

Text

Listen, man. Ren didn't know anything about what was going on. He just worked here.

The job was easy! Put on the outfit and the snappy pink sunglasses, walk the walk, talk the talk, don't get yourself found out or else the boss man won't be happy with ya. Simple as that.

Still, he couldn't help but gawk a little at the huge lime green.... thing that stood kinda looking like a giant creeper right in front of Doc's goat thingy. Mumbo was also there. Right. An example to be a great spy! Don't blow this!

Ren walked forwards and cleared his throat importantly and loudly, regally, hoping to catch the moustachioed wonder's attention for long enough to summon him down and have a good old fashioned heart to heart with him. Inconspicuously, of course. Ren fancied himself being great at inconspicuous.

He stood there and tapped his foot for a minute or two, acting annoyed but really wondering what on earth was wrong here. Mumbo was like, the most polite guy he knew. He never ignored people. Was this just a placebo? Had he been possessed or something? Possessed people did weird things, man. Ren would know.

Yep. Inconspicuous. Blending in with the environment perfectly as he stood there in plain sight.

It wasn't until Ren looked back up from his watch that he noticed something.

Ren was inconspicuous, yes, but apparently not as inconspicuous as the little earbuds in Mumbo's ears that clearly indicated that he was listening to something. (And jamming out to it too, judging by the way his hands flew over whatever he was working on with a graceful rhythm, pausing occasionally to air-drum with the beat. Ren would have to ask him for his playlist one day.) Right! Spy stuff! He was getting distracted.

He walked forwards and tried to clear his throat again, but unfortunately at that moment a bit of pollen that had been stuck in his nose decided to tickle in just the right way to make him sneeze, which caused mucus to flow down his throat, which caused him to hack and cough for about twenty seconds, leaning on his knees.

"Ren?" came the concerned voice from above. "Are- are you alright down there, mate?"

"Oh, yes," said Ren with an exhale and another, carefuller, throat clear. Mumbo had taken one earbud out and was holding it close to his ear, one foot on a honey block while his other hand held onto some sort of handle thing. He was also staring at Ren. Hard. "Doing just fine! It's just these uh, these dang allergies, you know?"

Thankfully, Mumbo seemed to relax a little, even taking his phone out to pause whatever he was listening to and sitting on the edge of the whatever-it-was far above Ren, legs swinging and face sitting in hands. "I get it, dude," he said sympathetically. "Pollen count's horrible this time of year."

Ren bit back a not the least because of you guys, opting to just nod in agreement instead. Mumbo didn't deserve that. He was just some random guy who got roped into the stupidest conflict on the planet probably! Knowing Mumbo, actually, he probably barely knew why he was fighting in this at all. Sort of like Ren was.

"It really is," he said, a strange note entering his voice that he did not intend to put there as he looked around. "Whatcha working on?"

"Oh, just a thing," said Mumbo with a suddenly nervous shrug, patting the flat space besides him. "You can come up if you want. Just don't touch any of the observers or this whole thing will kick off, and we really do not want that to happen."

...Observers?

Ren looked up, taking in the details of the whatever-it-was a little more. It towered above him, the sun shining through the honey and slime and slightly blinding him, but he could see now after a little squinting that there were also pistons and redstone blocks and the like in there as well. Of course. It was a flying machine. He had somehow completely overlooked that. Right. Sure, he'd go up.

He climbed up the stepladder slowly and carefully, wobbling dangerously as he reached the top and scrambled on top of one of the- legs? yeah, legs -of the machine.

"So, uh," he started, looking out over the forest that separated the Perimeter from Scarland. "What is this thing again?"

"Flying machine," said Mumbo, reaching backwards and patting one of the slime blocks, the concrete stuck to it above wobbling a little as he did. "Took me hours to design."

"Huh," said Ren, trying his best to not look nervous as he followed his gaze. "Why... exactly?"

"Uh," said Mumbo, looking off to the side. "I'm actually. Not sure." He turned back to Ren, one hand scratching the back of his head, gaze slightly lowered. "Grian asked me to, I guess? I don't really. Know. I just work here, man."

Ren nodded, unable to really keep his eyes off Mumbo. The dude never stopped fidgeting. "I get that. I get that. Sometimes, I feel like I just sort of get dragged up into all of this, yknow?"

"Yeah," said Mumbo with a sigh, folding his arms and looking towards the direction of the Shopping District as he sat back against the machine, the sun setting to his left. "I sort of woke up one morning and then my vault door had been exploded and I was fine with it and then Grian was like, 'whoa dude! That's not cool! You should totally team up with me and Scar and get your own back.' And I said okay because why would I not? But yeah. I don't really have any stakes in..." he waved his hands vaguely, "whatever this is?" He laughed a little nervously. "I am literally just some guy in a situation here."

Ren blinked. Had Mumbo warmed up to him so easily? Mumbo did that to everybody, he guessed, but still. Wow.

And he understood. Geez, how he understood.

"Oh, yeah, me too," he said with a small laugh, sitting back against the machine himself and letting his gaze wander across the scintillated skyline that comprised the Grian-Scar-Mumbo base area. "I just got called in to help kill ten thousand chickens with my bare hands and now I've been hired to-" He paused too late.

"Hired to what?" asked Mumbo.

"Hired to uh," said Ren, desperately scrambling for an excuse. "Keep an eye on things while Doc's busy." It wasn't a lie! He was telling the truth! Just not all of it. Man, he didn't feel good about that.

Whatever. He'd absolutely nailed it, right?

"That's fair," said Mumbo with a small grin. "I mean, I wouldn't want to go solo against the three of us either."

"Yeah," said Ren.

The two were plunged into an uncomfortable silence, Mumbo fidgeting with his pickaxe while Ren stared at the ground far below, trying and failing to think of a good way to smoothly exit the situation. He could just leave, but that'd be rude. He could hit the observer and then leave, but that'd be even ruder. Besides, he was hired on to spy, not sabotage. Although sabotage was sometimes part of the package when it came to spy work. How long had he been sitting here? This was getting unbearably tense. He had to do something.

"I'm uh, gonna go," he said suddenly, standing up and brushing off his jeans. "Got." He thumbed backwards, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "Things to do. Projects and stuff. I'm a busy guy, y'know?"

"Oh, yeah," said Mumbo, sounding incredibly relieved that he wasn't the one who had to come up with an excuse to either leave or get the other guy to leave (god forbid!). "No, yeah, go and do your thing. Good luck. Are you working on anything in particular, or..?"

"Not really," said Ren slowly, stepping back cautiously to make sure he didn't fall backwards. He took a deep breath. "Actually, I uh-"

Mumbo raised one eyebrow.

"May or may not be headed over to Doc's right now to tell him about this entire conversation," said Ren quickly, already engaging his elytra as he stepped backwards off the machine. "Bye!"

The last thing he saw as he flew off as fast as his low grade mass produced Giga-Rockets would allow was Mumbo just staring up after him, clearly baffled even from this distance and also probably quite suspicious of him now. Why had he done that? Why had he said that? The whole operation was in jeopardy now!

Oh well, Ren thought as he swerved away from the Perimeter and back towards his own base. It was fine. He didn't have to tell Doc everything. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him after all! He'd just give the useful information and go.

Of course, Ren had been in this situation enough times to know that he had gotten himself into one massive heap of donkey poo here with that one little white lie he was about to tell.

He sighed as he landed in his base, stumbling a little at the landing and heading towards his bed for a quick lie-down. (It was warm and he needed a nap.) At least the fallout would be fun to watch, even if it might not be from his perspective caught in the thick of it.

And besides, Ren was still horribly allergic to buttercups.

#ray's tag #mcyt #hermitcraft #hermitcraft 9 #chicken war #rendog #mumbo jumbo #writing #fanfiction #also REBLOG MY WRITING IF YOU ENJOYED IT BOY

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thatbanditqueen · 11 months

Text

Basic Training Chapter 4

A response to the writing prompt: “Why are you doing this?”

Thanks to my loves, my sister wives, my support group and Elvis cabal, @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love

Summary: Elvis hangs out at Bess house, and finally gets to dance with her.

Warnings: Kissing, discussions of sex, typos. I wrote this so haphazardly during a busy weekend, I’ll probably go back over and polish tomorrow...

WC: 4.1 K

Please like, comment or reblog and let me know what you think. I enjoy reading your feedback and it influences my writing, as well as our connection, which is the main reason I post my writing on here - to meet and engage with other Elvis fans like you!

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist.

Go here for the Basic Training Masterlist if you need to catch up

Sunday, April 6, 1958

12: 15 a.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Elvis’ bottom lip hung down, Bess was so close she could hear his breath wisp over it softly with each exhale. It was as if he were so transfixed looking into her eyes trying to read her mind that he forgot to close his mouth. No, Bess thought, it was as if time stood still, as if he were stuck there mouth agape, waiting for her to respond. His words still hung in her ear.

“Jus kiss me.”

His fingers rested over her hips and then tugged her closer where he wanted her, no longer waiting to see if she would say something. He had found the answer in the way she bit her lip and nodded up into his chin, mouth pressing into his jaw as he pulled her into his chest. Her arms smashed between them as he kissed the tip of her nose, his breath was warm on her skin and the air between them smacked with a restrained heat.

The way Elvis touched her made her close her eyes and open her mouth as his lips nudged downward seeking hers. Bess’ breath quickened faster and faster, she felt almost dizzy as Elvis’ mouth became more urgent and she gripped his shoulder to steady herself. His large hands were now spread over her upper back, squeezing her closer into him, left thumb swiping over the top of her silk nightie to caress her bare skin. There, in the dim light of the hallway she shuddered and jilted up sideways into his lips, opening her eyes as he heaved back, smirking.

“Hmm, you okay, Moo Moo?”

He murmured softly, then his eyelashes fluttered downward at her bare feet, a grin curling up further at the way Bess’ beige silk nightie rippled from the movements of his hand over her side. Bess follows his gaze downward, her breasts heaved up with her shoulders as she breathed a shallow breath, noticing how her nipples protruded through the silk and the lacy trim at her bust dipped in her cleavage. She was not wearing a bra, a girdle or nylons, just a thin pair of panties underneath her negligee. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Bess knew she should be ashamed, but her thoughts were lost to the drum of her heart beat thrumming in her ears.

Elvis’ left hand clutched hers over his heart, his nose was heavy against her’s once more, nuzzling up and down, the top trailing over her cheek, navigating the curves of her nostrils. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hovered over hers. She shuddered as his fingers tapped over her hand, gasping as he brought it up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

“I said, you ok, baby? You’re quivering’. Let me know if this is too much for you.”

She snorted, swatting him as she mumbled into his mouth, willing her words to be true as she pushed down the butterflies in her ribcage. She was not ok. Definitely not ok by any means. But she would be damned if she let him know the effect he had on her.

“I’m just fine, thanks. You think an awful lot of you’re kissing, don’t you?”

Elvis’ cheeks scrunched up and his eyes twinkled.

“Ya right honey, must be my ‘magination that you’re shivering.”

“I mean, I might tremble a little, but that’s, that’s just a physical response to, you know, being kissed. I don’t do this as much as you do.”

Elvis’ thumb was back at work over her shoulder blade.

“Well, I’ve been out of practice lately.”

“Oh?’

“Yeah, kind of short of um, uh, suitable options in the barracks.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you will always muddle through and find someone to kiss, Tupelo. Seemed like you had your pick of suitable options earlier.”

“Always so jealous, Moo Moo. Those other girls weren’t nothin’, I just risked life and limb sneaking off post to come see you.”

“Hmmm, well, maybe you shouldn’t have. You could get in a lot of trouble if you get caught.” She steadied herself in his gaze. “Yeah, I can’t help but think it might be good for the female population if you really were holed up back in a bunk with a bunch of other soldiers for a while.”

“Is that how you feel Bess? Wish I was back in the barracks?”

He asked into her neck, his lips pressed on her nape.

“Instead of being here.”

Another softer, slower kiss lower on her neck.

“With you?”

She moaned out softly, unintentionally, reflexively, as his lips opened this time and she felt the warm, wet suction of Elvis’ mouth right below her earlobe. The sensation was overwhelming, it made her her vibrate and lean into his face, slowly shaking her head. No, she didn’t wish he was back in the barracks. She wanted him to consume her, to cool her body with his mouth before the flames in her belly burned her alive.

Elvis’ grip was strong as he held her close to him, yet everything else about him was soft and delicate and warm. Basic training had not yet hardened his body, and his fingers had the smooth feel of someone who regularly rubbed lotion into them. Cheeks round and supple against her forehead. It was like leaning into a human pillow wrapped in an electric blanket, her skin hummed from his attentive hands.

He was somehow able to touch her everywhere at once, his right hand on her back shoulder blades, thumbing her into a comfortable trance, his left hand held hers to his chest, the back of it grazing her breast as he clutched her into him. Even his sweet, low drawl had a soft, babyish tone to it. Bess was certain she would melt like butter into the wooden floorboards if she stayed much longer in the warm, swathe of his embrace.

This tenderness was a jarring contrast to the months of chaste living that Bess had imposed on her self in the wake of her failed engagement last year. Everywhere her former fiancee, Ben, had been firm and stiff, Elvis was soft, yielding and responsive.

Ben, Ben, Ben. It had been over a year since Ben had gone off to Germany during Bess’ last semester of college at Austin, her picture in his suitcase and plans to meet her on leave in Paris that summer. Her plans for crossing the Atlantic Ocean had been decidedly cancelled when he called the week before graduation and told her not to come, told her he had met someone else, told her he had married.

Bess’s initial response was to throw herself into the open arms of every eager Army officer she could find. Most often, she didn’t even bother to get their name or do the typical good girl tap dance routine where she explained “I’ve never done this on a first date.” Stocking up on prophylactics at the Army medical clinic, Bess spent the first weeks of life after college fucking every officer that winked at her. The irony had been, of course, that prior to this she had only slept with a handful of serious boyfriends and never on the first date. Or second. Or third, for that matter. She had dated Ben for two months before sleeping with him. Falling head over heels for Ben’s freckled face, smart confidence and Midwest manners, Bess had been ready to go beyond first base after a few weeks. He had been the one who wanted to take it slow, to wait, applying his cold, sober analytical mind to assess their relationship and future before proposing to her, and then spending the next eighteen months plotting out their plans for a future together.

She wondered where that contemplative deference had been when he met Uta in Heidelberg and married her within a fortnight. She had tried to fill the hollow emptiness of heartbreak with physical connection and found it sorely lacking in more than one way. At first, yes, a hard, quick fuck was a useful reminder of what it was to feel as Bess grasped for anything to pierce through the numbness of grief.

But she found that after the momentary rush of adrenaline and attention of casual sex she felt even more despondent. And, unlike her previous lovers, these men had not cared or attended to reciprocity. She didn’t fake orgasms, a practice that been much practiced and debated in the girl’s dorms at college, but it had been unnecessary with almost all of the men she had bedded. Apparently they didn’t need the ego boost , nor did it temper their selfish lovemaking. Lovemaking, ha, what an inadequate word to describe the act of opening up and fucking someone into oblivion as they tried to get off as quickly as possible. Vowing off men forever after a particularly disappointing tryst in the store room of Fat Daddy’s, one of the pool halls frequented by the Air Force officers outside Waco, Bess has pulled up her pantyhose and began making her own plans for a future. Alone.

That was the last time she had even kissed a man and it had now been almost ten months. Elvis somehow seemed to feel Bess’ nervy energy and he deepened the comforting caress of his thumb over her hand. She looked up into his blue eyes, she hated how magnetic they were as she felt them drawing her in more and more.

Elvis Presley was bad news. Bess knew this, for all of the reasons she could think of and the many more she dared not, she knew. She knew it as she pulled him down by his collar to bring him to her lips. He guided his hands back to her waist, his left hand moving lightly over her breast, and he smiled into another kiss, talking into her cheek as she trembled once more.

“Shhh, shhh baby, it’s ok. I can tell, you’re a good girl.” He pointed to his head. “S’why I like you, I don’t go for fast gals like Dori. I know she’s your friend, but I’d much rather be here with you.”

His knuckles caressed the back of her cheek, and Bess clenched inadvertently, feeling her vagina draw up into itself as she considered how wrong he was. Dori might well be one of the few virgins over twenty still out there. It was, she suspected, part of the reason Dori was trying so aggressively to get married. Elvis’ knuckles trailed back over her cheek and Bess kissed his index finger, bringing the tip between the edge of her mouth, caressing it with her lips. Her hands snaked up his chest while she stared at that bottom lip there hanging down again.

“Maybe you’re wrong, hmmm? Maybe I’m the bad one?”

He arched his eye brows, slipping his finger back in her mouth and over her tongue and then sliding it back out, slowly.

“Hmmm, nice try honey. But you can’t fool me, I know things.”

She giggled.

“Ha, see, I know you, Bess, deep down, you’re a good girl. And deep down you know I ain’t gonna try nothin'. So let’s go somewhere we can be more comfortable.”

Elvis grabbed her hand and led her down her own hall to the living room, dropping Bess’s hand when he took in her father’s hi-fi equipment against the wall and let out a low whistle. There, in the shining, bright oak console was a stack of electronic equipment.

“Whooweee, what kind of set is it? Where are the speakers?”

Elvis was already sliding the bottom door open to look at the records.

Bess followed, putting on her best floor salesman voice.

“Why, don’t you know quality when you see it, son? Why this is the brand new, all inclusive Carlton hi-fidelity system. “

“Where are the speakers?”

“They are built into the furniture itself, see this here?” Bess pointed at the soft, woven area at the top of the console. “Top of the line sound, I tell you, you’ll feel like you’re in a concert hall.”

Elvis chuckled, his eyes not moving from the shelf of records that he was flipping through quickly, the soft thud of the sleeves hitting each other sounded like the rhythm of a song, like the pulse of Bess’ heart. She turned to calm herself by flopping on the couch.

“Ha, you’re a funny girl, Bess, you know that? Is this your daddy’s stuff?”

“What makes you think I’m not the stereo-phile? I know how all of this works.”

“Yeah, sounds like you’re doing an impression of someone.”

“You’re right, it is my father’s stuff. We all love music, though. But my father is the audiophile, he is always bringing home the latest equipment. We just got this system, apparently it’s stereo, whatever that means.”

“It’s recording on multiple tracks, they have a bunch of microphones around a studio so they can get you from all sides.” Elvis wiggled his brow suggestively as he said this. He then paused and held up the latest Coltrane LP. “Where’s the good music?”

“Ha, I have my own little set upstairs with my records. I don’t know if you’ll find anything hip down here -”

Elvis grabbed an LP, and stood up to slide it out and drop the needle over the lacquered, black grooves. Then he ambled over to where Bess sat on the couch jumping on top of her feet while Bing Crosby’s crooning played out of the speakers. He threw his cap onto the coffee table, and leaned over Bess as she cried out.

“Ughhh, cut stout Tupelo, you’re crushing me.”

Elvis pouted, and pulled her feet out from under his thighs, taking one foot up and kissing the top arch, and then the other as he scooted up between her legs, keeping her left foot in his lap.

“He’s sorry, Bessie Boo Boo.” There was that babyish, low voice again, as his thumb made its new home over her foot while his other hand trailed along the side of Bess’ body, hitching up her nightie slightly as it made it’s way to the side of her breast. Longing surged through Bess’ entire being and again her hands were at his face, bringing him closer to her.

His fingers stroked her side up and down, as, bottom lip hanging slightly open, Elvis' mouth was on hers and Bess swallowed as she kissed him back, unsure and nervous at first, she closed her eyes as his mouth lingered over hers, then became more insistent each time they converged and she opened up to meet his tongue. Her chest heaved up into his and the strangled smush of their breath filled the air between their faces. Her fingers were in his hair and his hand was palming her underneath her nighty. Elvis pulled back, rubbing his mouth with his right hand, his left hand still walking up her thigh.

His lip curled in a mischievous grin.

“You wearing’ panties under your night gown, widdle Moo Moo?”

Bess nodded. “Yesss.”

She started back slightly as Elvis lifted up her nightgown, sucking in his breath through his teeth as he gazed at the hint of her publc hair through her white panties.

“Shhhh, s’ok, just taking in the view.” He snapped the elastic band, and she hit his shoulder, pushing the beige, silk fabric back down over her thighs and kicking him back as he chuckled.

“Oh man, but what a view.” He shook his head, grinning. Then, as a new song started, Elvis stood and took Bess’ hand, drawing her back up.

“Why are you doing this?”

She followed him into the middle of the living room, as he brought her into his embrace began swaying with her.

“Never got my dance tonight.” His breath was warm where he spoke into her cheek, and his voice joined Bing and the Andrews Sisters as he moved them slowly in a circle.

I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences

And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses

And I can't look at hovels and I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in

Bess leaned into Elvis chest, she could smell the sweet scent of his cologne, a mix of woodsy pine and citrus, it mingled with the smell of fresh rain and sweat and the shoe polish that lingered on all soldiers, a reminder of their morning inspections. Her cheek glided over the outline of a tee shirt underneath the thick cloth of Elvis’ uniform. For the first time in a long time the fabric felt warm, safe and welcoming. They continued to sway in the silence after the song ended, after the record ended and all that remained was the thud of the needle revolving at the center of the album. Elvis half sang half mumbled the words to “Don’t Fence Me In” in fits and spurts, a haphazard performance for Bess’ forehead. Her skin was warm where his breath fell, and she pushed in further, just wanting to say all night like this passing time in the rise and fall of Elvis’ chest.

Elvis took her chin up to look into her eyes, she could tell he was about to say something when she heard the front door slam shut and the sound of her sister’s voice singing out some of “You Send Me.”

Stepping back, Bess looked Elvis in the eye and whispered forcefully, “Stay here.”

She hurried to the hall, and peeked out, as Kay greeted her.

“Aw, good Elizabeth, why am I not surprised to find you ready for bed?”

Bess took in Kay’s mussed hair and the lipstick smudges around her mouth, then looked up at the clock by the stairs. It was past one, she guessed Kay and her boyfriend had been off necking after the dance.

“Oh, you know, just winding down for the night.” Bess smoothed her hair, then twisted it into a makeshift bun that fell apart the second she released it. She then leaned across the hallway, blocking the passage way with her arm.

“You look a bit disheveled, Kay, maybe a good idea to go wash up and wind down yours-”

She stopped talking as she head the sound of footsteps behind her, and felt the brass buckle of Elvis uniform push into the small of her back, flinching as his hands wound around her waist and his chin tucked into her shoulder. She groaned inwardly as Kay’s mouth dropped open. Elvis kissed Bess’neck, then extended his arm out to shake her sister’s hand. She watched him introduce himself as if he were any other stranger meeting her sister for the first time, as if casual introductions in the midst of affectionate kisses while he wound himself around her body were the most normal thing in the world.

“Um hi, I’m K k k Katherine, Kay that is. Nice to meet you.”

Kay stared at Elvis, then, as if coming out of a daze, looked at Bess with a smirk.

“Just winding down, huh?” Kay nodded at them. “Well, I’m, I’m gonna do the same.” She winked back her sister as she turned up the stairs. “Good night.”

Bess shook her head, and faced Elvis.

“I thought I told you to stay in the living room?”

Elvis feigned indignance, “You embarrassed of me Bess? We weren’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. I think she liked me."

Bess rolled her eyes exasperated, watching as Elvis tilted his head towards the kitchen.

“Come on woman, I’m hungry, fix me something to eat.”

*****************************

Elvis jostled her up and down in his lap as he sucked the last of the meat off of a drumstick, and Bess couldn’t help herself, licking the crumbs from fried chicken off the side of her mouth. Still chewing, Elvis slurped some of the milk from his glass and then laughed as he belched into Bess hair.

“Ew, gross.”

“S’ a compliment, honey. I want you to make this for me for dinner every night.”

He kissed her cheek with his wet, milky mouth, swallowing as he spoke.

“Bess, I like you. I wanna spend every night I can with you.”

Bess turned to him, now straddling him over the chair he sat in at her kitchen table, her feet dangling down on either side of Elvis’ thighs, her underwear the only barrier between his uniform and her body. Her momentary disgust with his manners disappeared as she draped her arms over his shoulders, and looked into his eyes.

“What, what is it honey?”

Bess sighed.

“My folks come home today, I have to drive to Waco to pick them up, they’re flying in to Connally Air Force Base this afternoon.”

“So? Parents love me, I ain’t ever had no trouble with parents.”

“My father is an officer at Fort Hood, Elvis. He will also know that you’re in phase one, you’re not supposed to be off post. And, they won’t approve of you spending the night here, no matter how good we behave.”

Elvis stared off in at the porcelain plates that decorated a portion of the kitchen wall, they had old timey paintings of German farm life on them, with the words for different animals under them.

“Yeah, huh, you said your daddy teaches German, huh? I forgot he was an officer.”

Bess grimaced to herself, remembering that she may have minimized her father’s position at the base. Although, in a way, he did teach German. That was how he had started out his career in Army Intelligence, and he oversaw that now in the training at Fort Hood, among all the other projects that his office undertook. Bess decided then and there that if she had anything to do with it, Elvis would never meet her father, no matter how many parents he had charmed in his exploits. She knew her father, he hated rock and roll, and, more over, he would certainly not approve of any relationship between her and a new enlisted recruit.

Looking back into Elvis face, his eyes widened with recognition of her uncertainty and he pinched her hips, rocking back and lifting the chair so that she fell further into his lap and onto his groin.

“S’ok, honey. I don’t care how we figure it, I like you, I like you a lot. And I know you like me.”

“You do?”

“Uh huh. I could see it in your eyes, they way they open up wide for me whenever we meet, like they want to let me in, no matter what words come out of your mouth. No matter how difficult or stubborn you try to be. I can tell, I told you, I know things.” He pointed his index fingers into his temples. “S’like a sixth sense.”

“Huh.”

Bess rolled her eyes for the tenth time that night, and then gasped as Elvis leaned back even further and bounced her into his chest, his large hands spreading around her back.

“S’true. Admit it, admit you like me, Bess.”

He bumped her nose with his, his finger tips tapping over her skin. She looked down.

“I like you.” She mumbled into his chest, refusing to acknowledge the smirk on his face as he said this.

“Ok, there, good girl. So, you go get your parents, and then come meet me later on post.” He kissed her nose now. “And bring some more of that fried chicken, Moo Moo, s’probably the second best I ever ate. Wait till you come to Memphis and try my Mama’s chicken, it’s the best. Boy oh, boy, can my mama cook, best biscuits, best cake, best food in the world.”

Bess ignored how easily Elvis plans for the future suddenly included her, just as his hands in the present seemed to move all over her body, compelling her attention, regard and affection. Bringing her as close as he could as she succumbed to the sensation of his lips on the top of her head, and heard herself promising to meet him with a basket of food that evening.

“I need to see you tonight, Bessie Moo Moo. I can’t bare to be alone, I think too much. Knowin' I'm seeing you gets me through the day.”

His words echoed in her ears and she could still feel the touch of his lips on hers as she showered, dressed, and drove to Waco. She hated to admit how much she liked Elvis, how much she cpuldnt wait to see him again. Wanting was dangerous, and she feared the way it made her vulnerable. No body every tells you how hard it is to keep going after the anguish of heartbreak. As she drove, “Heartbreak Hotel” come on the radio. Every song is about falling in love or breaking up, she thought, reflecting that she had always been the one to sing to a lover in pursuit or in agony. Maybe it was time to let someone sing to her.

**************************************************************************************

@eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @tacozebra051 @ab4eva @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @peskybedtime @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @ashtag2887 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @girlblogger2002 @rjmartin11 @bigromansgirl-blog @literally-just-elvis-fics

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fan fic #elvis presley fan fiction #elvis fan fiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #slow burn #army elvis #fort hood #1958 elvis #basic training #banditqueenwrites

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actuallybabe · 1 year

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“God, you’re so oblivious.”

Pairing : Kevin Schlieb x fem reader

Word count : 506

Synopsis : you’ve had feelings for your best friend Kevin for a while. You didn’t really know how to tell him, so you thought telling Hunter would be the best thing to do..

Very little Kevin interaction!!!

You’ve been friends with Kevin for about three years now. You’ve met his mom, his best friend Hunter, and you know almost everything about him. In those three years..you caught feelings for the shy boy. You blush until you feel like you’re about to explode when you see him. Your heart skips a beat whenever you hear his name alone. Is it not obvious?

I sat at the lunch table listening to this new podcast I found recently, until I was startled by an aggressive shake of my shoulder. Hunter. I let out a sigh, popped my earbuds out and let them fall to the table. “Don’t scare me like that. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack.” You groaned “Well Y/N, if you were more aware of your surroundings THEN I wouldn’t have scared you.” You rolled your eyes “Sooooo..” There was a long pause “why’d you want to talk? Make it quick, I have better things to be doing.” I could feel my face turning bright red at the thought of him. Should I be doing this? I thought to myself. It’s just hunter. He’s not gonna make this a big thing. Right? I took a deep breath. “Hunter, swear your not going to tell A SOUL. I really need your help.” “Swear.” “Good. So..I don’t know if you can tell. But I really like Kev-“ “I KNEW IT , I TOLD HIM. I KNEW I WAS RIG-“ He screamed so loud I thought my ear drums were going to pop. “HUNTER! SHUSH.” “For how long? When did it start? Oh my gosh have you told him?!” “GOD, how many questions are you gonna ask Sylvester?” “Sorry..my bad. But please, keep talking. Humor me!” He sounded so giddy, I’ve never seen him like this…weirdo. “A year. I think..But that’s besides the point! I feel like I’ve been so obvious, ya know? I’ve tried flirting, dropping hints, everything! He seems to just..brush it off..?” “Well Y/N, since you like Kevin you should know how he is. He probably knows, but he’s too shy to say anything. Just tell him! If you’re too nervous I’ll do it for you…Can I do it…pleaseeeeee?? Please Y/NNN-“ Hunter stopped talking. I looked at him like he was stupid, why’d he stop? “Hey guys.” Speak of the devil. Kevin freaking Schlieb. “Hey Kev…” I froze. My head started to hurt, I swear I was gonna pass out right there in front of him. “Y/N you okay?” What was I gonna say? It felt like there was a rock in my throat, what do I do? Hunter, SAY SOMETHING! Silence. “Uh, yeah. I’m good. I was just telling Hunter how I got partnered with Skip. Talking about that, I should go find him. Uh. Yeah!” I’ve never walked so fast in my life. KEVINS POV “Is she okay? Should I go after her?” “God, you’re so oblivious.” “Huh?” “SHE LIKES YOU KEV! GO, GO TALK TO HER” what..? I swiftly turned around, headed her way. “Y/N! WAIT UP! Y/N!”

#metal lords #hunter sylvester #kevin schlieb #hunter sylvester x reader #Kevin Schlieb x Reader #x fem Reader

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lunar-knight84 · 10 months

Text

BACK TO BLACK

Cheater Marc Spector x reader, Steven grant x reader

Summary: you and Marc had an amazing relationship but suddenly he leaves without a word. What happens when you meet one of his alters years into your new life and he finally tells you the truth about the past and present ? What happens when everything is left unsaid and yet you feel something new in your heart for that special alter that you met?

N/A: this may be really bad i'm in my feelings and this is what came out lmao. This also took me a long ass time and idk how it is. I’m sorry if it’s terrible! Also feel free to leave a comment!

warning/stuff inside: the use of the word girl/girlfriend and she/her pronouns, Angst, not an accurate representation of DID, OOC, not proof read, Let me know if I missed anything!

You-red

Steven-purple

Marc-blue

Kind of inspired by the song back to black by amy winehouse

When you first marc you truly thought he was a free single man. The way he lifted you up in his arms that night and kissed you with such passion it felt like he was single and ready to take on the world with you. So of course when he asked you out on a date you said yes, of course you said yes when he said he could only call late at night. Of course you didn't mind when he told you he could only go to your place on random days while you could never go to his place. You were in love with marc…blinded with love I guess you can say. One day Marc just stopped seeing you. Completely. You called and texted him wondering where he was or what you could have done to upset him. You waited and waited till finally you gave up…your tears finally dried and you decided to live a new life in london. That was a few years ago and now you work as a bounty hunter in london, you have completely started a new life without Marc but never forgetting the scar that he cut deep in your heart. You were currently on your way to a museum that was filled with Egyptian artifacts and history, which honestly made you kind of excited. Of Course you were there for a specific reason, which was to stalk your bounty who was going to take a tour of the museum. As you walked into the museum you found your bounty and began taking the tour while watching your victim closely. You eyes watched but also looked around at the museum as you took in all of the artifacts and history. You stop in your tracks as you see a familiar and heart crushing locks of curls standing away from you in the gift shop. You can feel your heart beating in your ears like a drum as you walk up to the gift shop and grab a random candy placing it on the counter as you look at the cashier. The cashier looks at you and greets you in a British accent ¨well hello! Im steven! What can I do for you today?¨ he says with a smile as you continue to stare at those familiar romantic brown eyes. The eyes that would stare at you in between your legs, the eyes that you saw making you dinner on tired nights, the eyes that left you… alone and heartbroken. ¨uh miss are you okay?¨ Steven asks you curious and a bit nervous as to why you're staring at him. You swallow hard as you slide the candy over to him and give him 3.87 pounds as you continue to stare at him. Steven is nervous but as he looks down to put the cash away marc calls him from the reflected surface of a mirror nearby ¨ Steven do not talk to that woman…you need to just give her the candy and then leave¨. Steven looks at Marc confused as you suddenly speak ¨you said your name is steven? Is that correct?¨ Your eyes are blank and your voice is low and alluring as you speak to steven. Steven just nod as his nerves are getting to him as he hands you the candy. ¨well then steven… you must have a twin cause i used to know a fellow name marc who looks exactly like ya …you seen him lately..¨ you say as you stare down steven determined to figure out what the hell is going on. Steven tenses as you mention Marc as he stutters when he speaks ¨h- how do you know marc?¨. Marc calls out again in a stern but worried tone ¨ Steven dont… you dont need to know.. Stop talking to her!¨. You smirk as you lean forward ¨oh..he's just…an old friend..¨ you say as if the words are like honey on your tongue. Steven hears your words and is unsure of what to say next as he turns to you but before he can speak you give him your phone number. ¨heres my number steven…let me know when marc is around… tell him an old friend wants to speak to him.. Bye now..¨ you say as you walk away leaving Steven unsure about his feelings while marc is suddenly silent. That night Steven calls you. ¨ h-hello?..¨ he says nervously ¨hi steven…have you finally reached marc for me?¨ you say gently. ¨how do you know marc?...¨ he asks again a bit more strongly as he is determined to figure out how you know marc. You chuckle ¨he's an old friend…¨ you say slowly.

¨what does that mean?¨ Steven asks, unsure of how to proceed as Marc suddenly speaks to him from another mirror in Steven's home. ¨ dont steven…stop before you make this worse..¨ Marc says urgently, steven only moves the mirror away, dead set on figuring out who you are exactly. ¨it means what it means steven… now let me talk to marc..he must be near you if you called me¨ you say a bit annoyed. Steven chuckles a bit and mumbles ¨if only you knew…¨ . ¨what do you mean?¨ you asked confused ¨first you tell me who you are then i'll let you speak to marc¨ he says. You sigh as you say ¨i was marcs girlfriend? I guess you can say girlfriend but it was more of me being his entertainment…¨ you say with a bit of anger. ¨wait what?... Marc had a wife..well ex wife now..¨ Steven says deeply confused as it's only silence on your side of the call. Soon steven hears a laugh ¨the fucker was using me to cheat? Fuck! I guess I should've known..¨ you say in a surprised but hurt tone. Steven went quiet as he was unsure of what to say as he heard your voice again ¨who are you steven? Are you marc and have you just been fucking with me?¨ you say with anger as your voice is harsh. Steven panics as he quickly says ¨no no i'm not marc! You see we have DID.. which means i'm another personality of Marc’s …¨ steven says nervously as he just hears another round of silence from you. He finally hears you sigh as you say ¨i see…so can marc hear me and everything? I'm sorry if that's a rude question. I don't know how all of this works…¨ you say gently and with a hint of kindness. Steven smiles a bit being appreciative that you're worried that you're offending him by asking your question ¨he can hear you and don't worry it's okay to ask..it's better then just assuming.¨ he says gently. ¨i see…well steven did he tell you about us…like me and him?..¨ you say a bit nervously. “No he didn’t…he just told me about his ex wife…” Steven says with a slightly nervous tone “well would you like to know about me and Marc…” you say in a whisper as if the words were too much. “Steven, stop talking to her…you don’t want to know!” Marc says from another reflective surface as Steven ignores him and instead says “yes tell me…about you and Marc…”. You sigh “when I first met Marc I didn’t know he was married at all…back then I really thought it was just me and him…and yeah there was some weird stuff like he wouldn’t let me go to his place and such but i guess I was blinded by love that i didn’t really care to see any of that strangeness…” you say with your tone changing into a subtle sadness. You continued on “one day Marc just stopped…he stopped coming by, he stopped texting me, calling me, he stopped everything…”. “I’m sorry…” Steven says unsure of what else to say as Marc had gone quiet. “I truly did believe It was me and marc…” you said quietly. Steven sighed he was unsure of what to say as you cut him off before he could say anything “look Steven…it's fine” you hang up quickly leaving Steven with his head filled with confusion and silence from marc.

A few days passed and Steven couldn't get you out of his head. Marc had not spoken to him either and after learning what he did to you and his ex wife, Steven did fully believe that Marc would do that. Steven decided that he would have a chat with Marc and get all of this sorted out once and for all. ¨ Marc, can you hear me?¨ Steven said as he stared at the bathroom mirror waiting for marc. ̈ Marc, come on, we have to talk about this mate…¨ Steven said hoping Marc would finally show. A few minutes passed and Steven was about to give up when Marc finally spoke ¨you had no right doing that…¨ he said obviously upset. Steven turned to Marc in the mirror ¨I had no right? You're off your rocker for saying that! You had no right cheating on your wife with that girl! That poor girl had absolutely no idea that you were married and then you got up and left her?! Not to mention your poor bloody wife-¨ ¨ Steven shut the hell up!¨ Marc says loudly as Steven listens to him. ¨you don't understand-¨ ¨well then help me understand mate cause it seems you broke that poor girl's heart along with your wife… did she even know?¨ Steven asks while cutting Marc off. Marc sighs ¨of course she didnt fucking know steven…look…that poor girl your talking about her name is Y/N..and i loved her…I may still even love her…” Steven chuckles as he cuts marc off again ¨you love Y/N and yet you were still with your wife you wanker!¨ Steven says getting upset. ¨ Steven if you let me explain-¨ ¨no you're going to talk to Y/N tomorrow and explain all this bloody mess to her¨ Steven says as his tone is full of anger. Marc just sighs ¨fine steven..fine¨ he says with a frustrated tone as he leaves steven alone in his flat. The next day comes and You receive a message from Steven to meet him in front of the museum and that Marc will talk to you. You begrudgingly get out of bed and start yo get ready for the emotional storm that you were about to head into. You soon make it to the museum and see Steven standing there as you go up to him. ¨hey steven…so um…i don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything but how will i speak to marc?¨ you say gently and a bit nervously. ¨Oh we just switch out from the front..but before i give control to marc…just know everything is going to be okay..¨ Steven says gently and with a reassuring smile. You felt a bit of heat coming to your cheeks as you saw Stevens smile. Steven is different then Marc but yet that smile will always bring warmth to your cheeks as your lips curl up in a small smile ¨ thank you steven…¨ you say gently as you rest your hand on his arm gently.

You soon see his light and cheerful demeanor change into a tense and guarded demeanor as his face becomes tighter and his smile fades into a frown. ¨uh steven you okay?...¨ You say gently, a bit worried about what happened as you remove your hand from his arm. ¨Y/N…¨ was all he said as that chicagoan accent stopped your breathing as you immediately knew who you were with. ¨marc…¨ you said softly. You both just stared at each other unsure of what to say. You finally say “what the fuck Marc…” as you feel your rage take over your initial surprise. Marc just stayed silent, which only seems to anger you more. “You were using me to cheat on your damn wife and you made me believe that we were actually gonna be something together…do you realize how fucked uo this all is…and not make matters worse I met Steven and he ended actually making me feel better about the gaping hole you left in my heart.” You say angrily as you are dangerously close to him. Marc still was silent. “What the hell marc are you gonna fucking talk to me or are you gonna be silent…” you say annoyed. Marc looks at you…with those same romantic eyes…as you feel your knees weaken just by looking at them. “I’m sorry…” he said very softly. You look at him with all the hurt you’ve kept inside after he left you. “ you don’t understand what I have felt for years without you Marc….you don’t the anger the sadness the foolish hope that you’ll come back…and now all of this…” I say with a frustrated sigh “I don’t know what to do in this this situation….”I say conflicted. Marc just stood silently as his demeanor changed again to Steven’s light and relaxed demeanor. “Zoey?…” Steven asked carefully. You look at Steven again and give out a angry growl. “What the fuck! What the fuck Marc! Why won’t you talk to me!” You say with tears as you yell at Steven seemingly forgetting that he was Steven. Soon you felt warmth spread as you realized Steven was hugging you. As soon as you feel Steven’s warm safe embrace you just let out all the unknown tears you had for years as you cling onto him as if he was your only hope. You felt your heart beating again…it seemed it was beating for Steven…or was it beating for Marc? You were unsure…all you knew was that Steven grant gave the Best hugs.

#moonknight x reader #moon knight #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #I’m trying on this fanfic yall #x reader #Spotify

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imdoingmybest0 · 11 months

Text

Sweetie; part 2 Bob Floyd x F! Reader “Sweetie” 18+ minors please do not interact :) (Bob gives me soft-dom vibes and this is a reflection of that feeling) Series with @blimpintime, go check out the Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader story they’re writing, our stories are intertwined :) !!!!

Dyna had found me leaned against my locker with my head in my hands and had lent me a sympathetic ear. I don't give her all the details of my encounter with Bob but once she found out about my scheduled date she smacked me hard on the arm.

“You’re going though right?”, she asks eagerly.

“I mean… yea, It would be kinda rude to stand him up.” I say sheepishly

“Girl who gives a shit about being rude,” she throws her hands in the air exasperated. “You clearly like something about him, you're red as a lobster.” Dyna smirks at me and picks up her drink to take a sip.

“Well,” I say, bringing my hands to my face, “He is pretty cute and the way he asked was really sweet.”

Dyan rolls her eyes and pops open her locker, “Well you'll have to let me know how it goes, and hey, if you wanna use my curler I’ll give you extra 15 on your break.”

I pick up my coffee and smile before bringing it to my lips, “Sounds like a plan.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The clock is ticking closer and closer to four and my anxiety is spiking with each passing minute. My date with Bob is crawling closer and closer and closer, and his words keep reverberating in my head.

‘I let very few people call me Bobby.’

What was that supposed to mean? Only people he liked? Only people he was interested in? What if it's only people he wanted to take home at the end of the night?

Before my mind can wander too much further my ‘Lock up :)’ alarm dings on my phone, which meant I had five minutes till four. Dyan was having me lock up before I left for the night. I make my way to the break room and take one last look at myself, freshly curled hair, lip-gloss Dyna practically put on me, and the same clothes I’d been in all day, minus the tacky vest.

The same clothes that Bob had liked.

I turn from the mirror quickly and grab my tote, checking that the door to outside was locked and arming the security system. I made my way through the empty hangar and flipped the row of light switches all off before stepping into the lobby and locking the glass doors behind me. As I walk I’m able to see more of my surroundings through the front doors.

There stood Bob in profile, looking down the street. He’s dressed similar to the morning but now instead of a pair of stylish sneakers he wore heavy brown boots. His jacket was zipped to his sternum and he had one hand in his pocket. The hand I could see drummed a beat out on his thigh. I feel my lips turn up at the sight of him and butterflies erupt in my stomach, his words drifting back to me. I push the door open and he turns at the noise and his face splits into a grin upon seeing me. He starts walking towards me and I wave.

“Hello again Sweets,” his smile is practically glowing.

“Hi, let me just lock up and thenI thought maybe we could take a walk on the beach.” I say, sliding my key into the lock and turning it to click.

Bob chuckles, “A long walk on the beach huh? What cheesy movie did you get that from.”

I feel my face heat up, why was I just realizing how cheesy that sounded. I quickly cover for myself, “Or ya know we could walk around downtown, or get dinner, or-” I feel myself begin to ramble and turn towards Bob but i'm surprised to find him not even a foot from me. You’d think he's a stealth pilot from how quietly he moved.

He smiled down at me, lips sweet but eyes wicked, “ Actually, I do like long walks on the beach, but I thought we could take a ride first.”

His words are like honey and my heart stutters. I blink at him owl eyed, processing what he had said to me but unable to conjure a response. “Uh,” responded intelligently.

He gently slides a hand into mine, “Common Sweets, nothing’ to be scared of.” I follow him in a bit of a daze, across the road to the parking lot, after Bob stops and looks both ways. ‘What a dork’, I think to myself and smile, I’ve always had a soft spot for dorks.

I’m so distracted by my own thoughts I almost don't realize Bob has stopped, I stumble for a split-second and catch myself. We have stopped at a motorcycle of all things. The words ‘Kawazaki’ and ‘z440’ are written on the side. The intimidating machine is black with silver accents and hardware. The seat dips in the middle and then forms a sloping shelf, meaning it's a two seater. I look up at Bob and he's already smiling.

“We don’t have to,” he says smile falling a little after seeing the shock on my face, “I know a lot of people are scared of them, and for good reason. We can just walk to the beach if you’d like.”

There is a pause where we stand and look at eachother, his face contorted into a forced smile and ming still surprised, before I burst out laughing.

“Bobby! You’ve gotta be kidding! This is amazing, of course we have to go for a ride!” I squeeze his hand tightly, he’s still holding onto me.

His face lights up and he brings my hand to his mouth for a quick kiss. “Let me grab your helmet,” he says before dropping my hand and picking up one of the helmets that hung on the handles. He gingerly hands it to me, it's shiny and black with a flip up visor. So much for curling my hair. Bob lifts his off the other handle and I can tell that mine is his spare. The helmet he holds is similar to a pilot's helmet. It's a queasy shade of green with three large brownish stripes tailing over the top. I can see a few stickers placed on the back, the most attention grabbing being a large, yellow triangle that reads, ‘Baby on Board’, similar to the kind you might see in the back window of a car. I giggle a little at the sticker and Bob gives me a curious look.

“Sorry,” I waved a hand in front of me, shifting the helmet under my arm,” I just love your stickers.” Bob glances down at the helmet and blushes.

“Oh yea, that's kinda an inside joke between Phoenix and I. She got me this sticker a while after we started flying together.” Bob slid the helmet over his head and secured it before nodding his head at the one setting under my arm, “Need some help?”

I shake my head and slide the helmet over my head and give it a little wiggle to get in place. When Bob comes into view what little I can see of his face is red, and he reaches up to flip my visor down. He holds out his hand and steps back, “After you Sweets.”

I exhale and swing my leg over the bike as Bob holds it steady and scoot back into the passenger seat. For the second time today I thank my guardian angel for telling me to wear pants today. Bob slides his leg over the bike in one practiced motion and he glances over his shoulder at me.

“I want you to wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tightly. Just pat my leg if you want me to slow down and squeeze my knee if you want me to stop, okay?” I nod at his instructions, repeating them to myself, pat to slow down, squeeze to stop.

Bob's hand goes to turn his key but pauses before starting the bike, “The best way to stay on is to stay really close to me.” I could detect the hint of a smile from under his helmet and the bike rumbled to life under me. A squeak escapes my lips and I hope Bob can’t hear it.

I wrap my arms around his waist tentatively and I see Bob glance over his shoulder and shakes his head back and forth. I loosen my arms a little confused. Bob contorts his arm to touch my hip and gives me a pull forward so that my hips are pressed flush to his. He releases my hip and moves my arms tighter around his waist. I feel my face heat up in the confines of the helmet as Bob releases the kick stand. I press my chest to his back and give his waist a reassuring squeeze. I feel him relax a little bit and the bike starts to move, slowly, through the parking lot.

As we make our way onto the main roads the wind moves through my clothes and I can’t keep the smile off my face. We cut smoothly through the streets, pressed closely. The bike rumbles between my legs and my face feels hot. Bob takes me nowhere and everywhere with no particular destination in mind. We pass the port, beaches,and the HardDeck. I look around me like I haven't traveled these roads hundreds of times. The combination of Bob's cologne and his body keeping me warm the wind doesn't bother me.

As the sun starts to throw longer shadows along our path bob starts to take more turns guiding us towards a public beach. We find a parking lot off the side of the road with a set of steps leading down to the sand. Bob moves the kickstand out and holds his hand over his so I could take it and slide off the bike. Bob swings his leg over and I pull his helmet from my head. Bob does the same and we both grin at each other, his hair is standing at a weird angle and I'm sure mine doesn't look much better. As confirmation a strand falls in my face, before I can move Bob's hand is gently swiping it back into place. He smiles gently at me and then pulls away to scratch the back of his neck.

“Your hair is all over the place,” I giggle out the obvious and Bob glances up at me bashfully.

“Yea?” he questions, “wanna fix it for me?” He gingerly removes the helmet from my hands and hangs both of them on the handle bars, before half sitting and half leaning on the seat of his bike. My face feels hot as I step in closer and his knees spread a little farther allowing me to get closer to him.

I gently reach up and run a hand through his hair. It looks a little darker but I see golden streaks gliding through the waves of his hair. It’s soft too, freshly washed and easy to run my fingers through. I brush it into a poor substitute of the neat combed shape he had earlier. I go to step back and I feel his hands softly touch low on my hips. I look down at him in surprise and he smiles up at me, the golden rays of the sun giving him an ethereal glow.

“Thank you Sweetie,” I feel his hand trail down the back of my arm and his fingers slide through mine before bringing my knuckles softly to his lips.

My heart thumps loudly in my chest and I’m unable to move as he stands, still chest to chest with me. Still holding my gaze and still smiling.

“Ready to go?” Bob asks softly, pulling me back to my body. I nod and look down at my feet and Bob tugs at my hand which makes me realize he hasn't let go of mine. He leads us down the rickety stairs towards the beach, due to it being the off season it's mostly empty. We kick off our shoes when we get to the loose sand. Bob gently lifts my shoes from my hand and holds both pairs in his left hand and my hand in his right. We make our way down to the surf and walk slightly out of the reach of the tide. We smile and run down the list of terrible first-date-questions.

Bob loves legos, specifically the flower sets. His favorite holiday is Valentine's day and favorite color is rusty orange. I laughed as he told me about his older brother and two younger sisters and what kind of trouble they got into as kids. He told me about his dad who worked as a professor and his mom who had also served in the Navy. He showed me a few pictures of his dogs and one of him atop a horse, which he affectionately called Cassie.

He flipped through a few more before showing me another picture of a small orange cat resting on his chest,asleep. As cute as the cat was I couldn't help but notice he lacked a shirt in that photo, taken from a high angle with lighting that made his skin look warm and soft.

We finally decided to make our way back to Bob's bike for the ride home. He lets me sit on steps as we pull on our shoes. As I'm tying one of my sneakers, Bob puts one knee on the steps and ties my other for me. I smile at the small act of service. Bob looks at me from his place on the stairs and smiles.

“Sweetie?” His voice is soft and gentle.

“Yes?” I whisper back.

“Let me know if I'm being too forward but,” my heart thuds faster in my chest, “if you keep smiling at me like that I might carry you up these stairs and see how many laws I can break to get you alone faster.” My face is hot but a smile creeps back across my face anyway. Bobs expression promises mischief.

“Well,” I cleared my throat a little, wondering if I really want to say what I'm about to say, “how many laws could you break Bobby?”

His eyes go wide before he surges forward and he scoops me up. I yelp and then I laugh as he climbs the stairs with me halfway over his shoulder. I laugh louder as I shout into his lower back, “If you carry me, what was the point of putting on our shoes?”

My feet touch the ground back next to Bob's motorcycle and he catches my waist before I can move away from his intoxicating presence. He leans down and murmurs in my ear, “I’ll take you home if you like, but I’d really love for you to come home with me tonight Sweetie.”

I place my hands on his chest and lean back to look him in the eye sternly. I glance down at his lips and I can tell he notices by the way his grip tightens but he remains still, waiting for my go ahead. I only respond by moving in closer and softly joining my lips to his and Bob returns the favor.

We hold each other like that for a moment, then pull away breathless but wanting more. Bob runs his palm along my jaw to the back of my neck and gently brings me in for another kiss. Then another. I slide my tongue against his lower lip and he takes that as an invitation. His hand tightens slightly on the back of my skull and a small gasp escapes me as he gently bites at my lower lip testing me. I lean in closer and he bites a little harder. His hands slide from my waist to my lower back and press my torso to his.

As he pulls away again his look is hungry, “Another ride for ya Sweetie?” I blush at the innuendo and pluck ‘my’ helmet off the handle and pop it confidently over my head.

“Ready when you are Bobby,” I say smiling at him as he grabs his own and slips it over his head.

Bob smirks at me from under his helmet before reaching up to flip my visor down, “No, Sweet Thing, I don’t think you are.”

..............................................................................................................................

AN; oh no! What ever could she not be prepared for?? could it be Bob's massive di-

Part 3 already posted >:)

-okay, bye, thanks for reading, love you <3

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