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dropsofletters · 27 days

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i feel like i know you [jww]

SUMMARY: sometimes, we meet a person, a complete stranger in the streets, and we feel as though we have seen them somewhere else. a sense of familiarity that comes with longing and extreme love. however, it could only be one of those cases of deja-vu…if one does not think that there are other universes, roaming around its axis at the same time that we do.

jeon wonwoo doesn’t believe in the concept of soulmates, but somehow, he always has the same one in various universes.

maybe, destiny does exist.

TITLE: i feel like i know you

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader

GENRE: soulmates!au ; soulmates in different universes!au ; friends to lovers!au ; unrequited love!au ; forbidden love!au ; childhood friends!au and wonwoo finding his way back to oc again and again.

WORD COUNT: 8,000 words approx.

TYPE: fluffy fluff ; fantasy ; alternative universes ; angst if you squint

NOTE: this was a ko-fi request! you can go over there if you want to request something from me.

UNIVERSE 01: friendship.

A pendant sits on the palm of her hand.

It dangles in between his fingertips; tips colored by Kool-Aid, burning red. The music is a little too loud in the cramped room, where the strands of his bleached hair merge in between the black, original ones. Wonwoo sits neatly, though his image is copied out of one of those magazines that he reads over every once in a while when at his job at the mall.

Maybe, this is where her friend met the supposed old lady that taught him the future was written in one’s palm. He’s a man of science, though he masks it as not. Books and articles highlighted on his bookshelves, casted in dust as he reaches his twenty-five years of age and he realizes that, perhaps, in the midst and wits of time he never truly reached what he wanted. No scholarship. No travelling. Nothing other than sitting at his small apartment, dangling a necklace, hoping for a sign.

“What do you want to know?” Wonwoo always speaks like he has a secret, eyes squinted, voice a rumble of depth. His vision, however, is settled on the pendant that only moves the slightest, from side to side, venturing into the unknown of what it is supposed to tell her.

Life, on the other hand, is a little bit more secure for her. She didn’t imagine her life to be big, and hence, settling seemed nice. Three years into a relationship that started out in college; a college degree that also sits on her bookshelf, waiting for it to mean something than it actually is, and work. Work has been hectic, with coffee breaks towards the coffee shop in which Wonwoo works at with a scowl to his face and a purse of his lips.

“The unknown.” She jokes, hand trembling a bit as Wonwoo rests it on his thigh.

His eyes roll, the sclerotic becoming a bit apparent, before he returns his gaze to her. For Wonwoo, the world is serious; like the heat of the Americano she has each day, and the routine of making perfect coffee. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” She looks back at Wonwoo. This is the man that would nod at every single one of her words when battling her fear of speaking in public back in high school. Her friend. The reason as to why she gets to speak now in her corporate job for some fashion magazine. She knows him far too well, dances with his eyes and knows how to sit him down with simple syllables. “You don’t believe in any of this.”

“I’d like to grant myself the benefit of doubting my beliefs.” He explains. The nineties are far more technological, fitted for someone like him, with up-and-coming laptops and websites. He could have been so much more, but it feels these days like he’s losing himself to a trail of nothingness. “They haven’t exactly worked to my favor the past few years, so what do I lose by giving you an answer to something? Shit, maybe, I could get an answer, too.”

She grabs his hand, pendant digging to the skin of her palm, engraving the thunder that Wonwoo had bought on a convenience store nearby. It was probably on sale, too. “You don’t need answers, Wonwoo. What’s not lost should not be hunted down.”

His eyes soften. Mirrors in shades of brown, like a lake house that she could never escape. Here, listening to Backstreet Boys, trying to hide from the reality that they are not kids anymore, is the man she trusts the most. The one person she cherishes more than life itself. For, Wonwoo was there for her to lighten up her days, even when the exposure of sunshine would hurt him, too.

“…Let me just answer one question of yours.”

“What for, though—?”

“Just to prove to myself that I’m not the only one that doesn’t have it figured out.”

She sighs, opening her palm once again and closing her eyes tightly. She imagines all that has happened throughout the years of her living on this earth. She has a job that she likes. She has gone through college safely, thankfully. She has a relationship but…these days, it feels like he doesn’t foresee a future. Nick, her boyfriend of three years, goes on and on about his plans in the future, but it never includes her. A shush coming after his words when she ever-so asks…

Would you ever want to marry me?

“The first letter of the love of my life’s name.” She spurts out, knowing that the universe will be unable to ever grant her a benefit of knowing, let alone draw it on her palm with a pendant. Wonwoo doesn’t raise his eyebrows, never judging out loud, but speaking under his breath.

“Totally not the asshole you have for a boyfriend.”

“Wonwoo, have some respect and concentrate.”

“I’m just being honest.” He shrugs, sending a tight-lipped smile her way before he’s tracing her palm with the pendant and letting it hang. The woman at his job told him that it would trace two answers; a circle was a yes, a line was a no, and what she was asking…they’d see if it could get answered.

Much to his surprise, they hold their breaths, looking at the pendant before it starts moving. Almost like magic, like the world has things that we will never understand to its full complexity, the necklace starts moving its pendant until it draws a shape. Repetitive not, perhaps a little bit two quick, but the two folds of the ‘W’ are apparent. Her eyes trail forward, widened in complexion, before laughter spurts out of her lips.

“This shit is crazy.” Wonwoo’s cheeks are tinged pink, standing up and clasping the necklace in between his digits.

“Totally. Uh, where the hell did you even learn this?”

“Remind me to never trust people from work again.” Wonwoo’s back is turned towards her, saving the necklace on the coffee table, and she thinks about it for a moment…

Wonwoo and her together…

Pfft, as if that could ever happen.

“Noted. This will never happen again—”

“Yep. Want to get some burritos?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The nineties had their own tagline, but ruining a friendship because of some stupid myth as the ear of technology was launching was totally not it.

###

UNIVERSE 02: opposites.

Wonwoo has always had an odd liking to coffee.

He presumptuously admits that he enjoys the taste on the roof of his mouth, and how it burns his palate and awakens him in the early mornings. Macchiato. Latte. Cold or hot. He enjoys them all. Hidden behind of strands of long hair, curled at the edges, and a pair of glasses so thick that they might as well hold all the eyes in the universe, he thinks it’s his own language. His way of speaking without actually opening his mouth. He grants happiness with a ‘good morning’ and a nod of his head, even though his coffee shop is not as big or as crowded as his family back home thinks.

A sigh leaves his lips, wiping the same spot he has worked on since the early morning. Only a client had passed by. A latte, decaffeinated, with two shots of vanilla and one of dark, moody chocolate. The busy man left without much of a glance at him, but the job was done. Hence, the day was uneventful, leaving him with pastries to sell and coffees to prepare. Aching to feel that this business is going somewhere.

He painted the walls green himself, thinking they’d match well with the plants his brother had gifted him after he moved to Jeju with his wife and worked on a gardening program over December. The tables, found in a trip to Scotland, did cost a little bit more than what he likes to admit, but it’s gloomy. Wholesome, like he wants it to be. A place that resembles the peace that comes with having a cup of coffee on a winter day.

It's summer.

Maybe, people just don’t want hot beverages.

The repetition of one of the first albums from The Beatles is cut off by the sound of a megaphone. Sharp and repetitive sentences shouted into the void of the street. People start to gather in front of his shop, but it’s not because of the coffee beans he brews every morning. There is someone else there—one of those hippies that he tries to stay away from.

Wonwoo pushes his hair away from his face, not even making the effort to clasp his beige apron off as he ventures to the entrance door and opens it with a swing. Standing on a small beer box is a woman; sporting a long floral skirt and a simple top that dangles off one shoulder. It reads ‘fuck politicians!’, loud and clear, like the sound of her voice as she asks for rights.

Rights to have some kind of reelection, for she thinks the government is corrupt.

“We are fucking marionettes to the politicians. Workers that will lose their nails clawing to get to the last bit of money they offer us. Not enough for us to eat and live freely—” She speaks into the megaphone, and he notices the soft hue of her lips and the crookedness of her hair. She’s not playing the part, but somehow, she looks quite beautiful in her messiness.

“Excuse me.” Wonwoo speaks softly, as per usual.

“Us women, we need to stay close, to protect the children of our lives. The people that need us the most. We are tired of staying silent—”

Though, she’s silencing him in the process. If this protest gets any heavier, he could even get jailed just because she wants to speak out…in front of a coffee shop. “Um, miss, excuse me, I have something to say—”

“Say it with me: ‘We shall not be silenced’!”

“Miss!” Just when she gives a moment for the crowd to speak, Wonwoo’s voice becomes loud. A shout into nothingness that brings color to his cheeks and a set of widened eyes that anyone could miss if they don’t look at him from up-close. She turns to him, still on that beer box, the wind blowing at her skirt and tracing the soft curves of her body. “This is my coffee shop…and—and I fear my clients would be scared of entering if they saw this protest in front of it. Could you please—?”

“What?” She questions, putting the megaphone down and raising her eyebrows. “This is something important.”

“Yeah! Totally. I know.” Wonwoo, though not a fan of politics, can understand that the economics are not the best these days. Hell, he fears that he will lose the business that he had worked so hard on. “How about this…I know that you planned this protest and that—”

“Just leave the fucking woman alone!” One of the protesters grits through his teeth, the others bursting in exclamations just like him.

“Yeah, fucking capitalist!”

“I could offer all of you coffee! And a place to talk. You buy me a cup, I let you have this whole…ordeal inside.” Wonwoo tries to smile, covered by the strands of his hair, but the wind whisks it away and she gets a good glimpse at him. The frown in between her eyebrows softens, mouth agape for a second before she brings the megaphone up to her lips again.

“We’re going inside! A small business needs us, everybody. We’re not getting out of this mess if we don’t make a change.”

Her hand lays on his shoulder, getting off the box and sending him a smile that blossoms one of his own on his face. It’s crazy how the world has millions of people, each more different than the last one, but there are still connections. Electricity that pulls two people together even with a mere touch, as he realizes just how gorgeous she is.

And so unlike him.

Such an impossibility.

He prepares her favorite coffee then. Sweeter than anything, with marshmallows on top, a caramel Macchiato that keeps her fed along with the guava pastry that she dared try. Speaking her mind away, he only sits and listens, knowing that this is the last time he’ll ever see her.

###

UNIVERSE 03: right person, wrong time.

He looks like the image of what his mother used to coo about every Christmas night when the eggnog got to her system.

Not a man of marriage, he used to say he was, when he was just fifteen years old and promising he could pull through with a relationship. At the time, his now bride-to-be Fae was the third wheel of the trio. The woman that would wipe her tears when everything got to be a little bit too much with him, and that would clasp Wonwoo’s hands in between her own and teach him how to be a better boyfriend. How to leave the faux interests of bad friends behind to build something beautiful.

That they built in just a few months of relationship, tainted and left as lukewarm friendship, got destroyed in just three months.

She’d dare say, however, as she lets the emerald green of her bridesmaid’s dress cascade down her back, knowing fairly well that the fabric fits her a little too snugly because she decided to bathe her stomach with alcohol just hours prior to this, that…Wonwoo was her first love. She had never loved as purely, harshly and truly. With rain falling down on them as they both cried their goodbyes, eager to make it work, but regretting forcing their friendship to be something more.

Now, he’s marrying Fae. They didn’t get together soon after they broke up. It took years, pulling away, falling apart as a trio, coming back together and Wonwoo and Fae being roommates during their senior year of law school for them to get in a relationship.

Though, the word has it that when a man is totally certain about a woman, things will fall into place quickly. He looked at Fae in the eyes quite like he does now, as she stands behind her. Fae has her soft peachy hair curled and tied at the top of her rounded face, lips opened in that heart-curling smile that shows all her teeth, imperfect and yet, so fucking gorgeous. She looks like she was taken out of a fairytale, glowing…and she should be happy with her friend.

Fuck, she is.

God, imagine how difficult it would be to explain to Heaven when she tried to knock on its doors at the end of her life that she was happy…but also a bit jealous that this wasn’t her.

Because once, when she was a teen, she thought she would be in this position. Standing in front of Wonwoo, eager to place her hands on his arms, tug him closer and press their lips together. Call it forever, because it sounds like it could be possible with him. And these are thoughts not to be having when at the altar with her two best friends, as his eyes get filled with tears when looking at Fae.

She wishes it was her.

Wonwoo does look her way at one moment, departing from his vision towards Fae and it’s almost like his shoulders fall. She knows, then, that he remembers the possibilities—what they once talked about when seated on the front-yard of his old house, through small pecks and giggles. They once said that they were ‘ride-or-die’, only to ride along the adventure that they tried.

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, raising the corners of her mouth, as if telling him that they have made it. The ‘happy-ever-after’ reached in different spectrums. Wonwoo smiles back, tracing the outline of his engagement ring, the one that will meet the new ring that will create, hopefully, a lifetime of happiness.

Not with her.

Of course, not with her.

And that doesn’t haunt her. It’s something that she wishes she could have told herself in the past, so she would have never placed herself in Wonwoo’s life that way, making his relationship with Fae easier and more factual from the beginning. However, now that she’s here, it brings nostalgia.

They were once kids, now he’s getting married.

There’s a baby waiting for him in Fae’s womb, that not many people in this church know about. If any, really.

That’s the magic of moving on, but at the same time, wondering why it wasn’t like how they wished for as kids.

She nods at him, mouthing the words: “I’m proud of you.” in hopes that he can read her lips. Wonwoo, excelling at everything he does, manages to do so, nodding back at her before returning his gaze towards his wife.

Then, comes the exchange of words. His deep vibrato promises to cherish Fae forever, and she believes him. Maybe, she doesn’t have anyone by her side, or a man that can compare to the quality of people that Wonwoo is, but the time will come. For now, she’s the tree that shadows over the couple, sheltering from the eyes of the judging as they kiss, after letting out into the world what they wish for each other. Enormous contentedness, for example.

She claps, hands coming together as if praying that they will get to live up to their words. Plenty of years that will come and would have happened to her if Wonwoo was truly her person. Or maybe, he is, because this buzzing excitement that builds like makeup within her chest, coating her heart in layers and layers to hide what truly lays underneath is…an indicative.

Wonwoo is not a person that she got rid off easily. If not, they wouldn’t be friends by now.

Cheers escape her lips, fists balled and raised high in the air for the new couple. At least, someone got to have a happy ending.

###

UNIVERSE 04: the unknown

“I wish I had your eyes.”

Wonwoo says so with simplicity, his nephew—or more like his brother’s grandson—looking up from the handwritten letter that is taking up most of his time and headspace. He takes off on the family genes, with the dark hair, stoic eyes and cat-like smile. Though, the blush is different. In his eighty-six years of living, Wonwoo can’t recall the last time he actually blushed.

He sits back on his chair, creaking from how old it is, wood carving into the spine that had once functioned as leverage for running miles in the Olympics, but now is just a tale that people rarely believe from him. With that, he gets to cross one leg over the other and smile.

Love. Oh lord, love. How beautiful it is, and so inexplicably unreachable for him.

People say that everyone has fallen in love at least once in their lives, but for Wonwoo, it never felt quite right. Women were beautiful in their own spectrum of differences; he had liked a few, if he dares say so himself, with relationships growing and then, withering to the pressure of passing a few months together. But he had never met someone that had him feeling like he could keep going. A romance that could paralyze him to the bone and make him stay.

Now he doesn’t move much, but he doesn’t have anyone that accompanies him, perhaps with a memory, as he sits on this damn uncomfortable chair at six in the morning, downs his two shots of coffee and then, proceeds to read whatever book he finds in his beloved book collection. He wonders if the problem was him; if he couldn’t just quite make his expectations lower so someone could sit by his side.

He feels like his soulmate never came his way, either.

Minho crooks one of his slim legs over his hip, turning to look at the old man. “Paps, I am quite sure you have them. My dad can’t stop going on and on about the Jeon’s and how their eyes are the reason they got ladies on the first place—”

“Not that. Your dad’s an idiot.” Wonwoo excuses, laughing from within his belly and earning a smile from Minho, who plays with the button of his pen. “I am saying that you have a look in your eyes that I wish I had. How long have you been going out with this lady?”

“Almost three months.” Minho admits, running a hand through his dense hair. “…I mean, I’ve liked her for a bit longer, but paps, this is…like…you have to know how it is. I love this woman. I can’t imagine any other girl in my life.”

He can’t say that thought has crossed his head. It’s difficult to fathom just one person being enough for the rest of his life. He was a man of education, so it wasn’t like he was lurking for hook-ups…he just liked the science of relationships more. Why hunt when it always ended in a fall-out?

And he never really cared enough to keep going, either.

“I don’t know how that is. Maybe, that’s the goddamned problem.”

“How—? What?” Minho’s incredulous voice has him standing up, forgetting his letter to his girl to frown at Wonwoo as he points at him. “You’ve never been in love?”

“Never met anybody who could truly make me feel at ease.” Wonwoo announces, clearing his throat and rubbing at the long hairs on his chin. “…Because that’s what love is to me. I didn’t want a woman that I could go crazy with in the sheets. I needed a lady that…made me feel like I could be a better man, who pressured me to be better but still, made it seem like it was nothing. Like trying for her was just enough.”

“That’s crazy…” Minho mumbles, taking a seat next to Wonwoo. It’s horrid that he has to live in the same house as his brother’s family, just because walking gets harder by the day. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“I do.” Wonwoo contemplates, nodding along to his words before sighing. “I believe there are people in this universe that we are just meant to find. But I never looked, you know? I stayed still. Hoped the great woman would just burst through the door and be…perfect. For her to be ready for me. For us.”

“That’s not how it works.” Minho says. “Love is action. Soulmates are action, too. You can find them, but if you never truly make an effort to develop and help grow, it’s not going anywhere.” Those words ring within him, youth bursting from his vocal cords, but nonexistent in the antiqueness of his vision. “Because destiny can only do so much. People can be perfect for each other, while being imperfect in their own ways.”

His nephew, or grandnephew, stops for a moment before smiling fully, like a vein in his chest had popped and liberated him.

“If we learn to forgive, we learn to love.” He finalizes, pressing a hand to Wonwoo’s knee and patting it. Those words settle within him; regret basking upon the old man’s figure. Of having so much and yet, having lived so little. With that, the guy raises one eyebrow in questioning. “Would you like to read what I’m writing? I want to give it to her for our four-month anniversary.”

“Technically not an anniversary.” Wonwoo adds the obvious, only to have Minho laughing.

“And right and there, paps, is why you’re still single at this age and time.” He still doesn’t listen to Wonwoo’s grumpy ways, or the grumble that he lets out. Minho sits by his side, the bubblegum pink paper making Wonwoo cackle. “So, I started it off by spraying perfume on it.”

“Of course, you did.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“Oh, just so the lady never forgets me.”

“…And there goes, some of your dad’s genes popping out.”

“Paps, don’t be so grumpy.”

“Sorry, that’s what old single men are like.”

“Well, old man, let me show you what real love sounds like.”

###

UNIVERSE 05: we were just kids.

Bones chilled, crippling under the weight of small tremors, Wonwoo doubts this is the harshest rain the city has met. Not that he would know; he’s only been living for eight years in this wholesome world, but he knows for a fact that he could climb mountains with storms that could break the sky itself and he’d make it, just to meet his crush by the swings that near his home.

She’s his neighbor of sorts. His cousin studies with him, just one year older than him, and he ignores the kind of beauty he holds. The headbands that cling to her hair and tangle it even more. The gloss of her lips that may come from the donuts he always steals from his dad’s shelves just to give something to her. Her cheeks are rounded, like universes that he’d dare kiss if that wasn’t prohibited. Mom taught him that he shouldn’t get too close to girls, but she’s…gorgeous.

Intelligent.

She’s a storm waiting to unravel and he notices it when her hands splay under the rain, trapped underneath one of the picnic tables, waiting for the night not to eat them alive with the power of rain water. She may be made of sugar, like the sweetness of her words when she tells him that he’s the best student in his grade, that he knows things that even her, as his senior, has no idea about. That could be why she doesn’t get under the rain, afraid of it, cling to her own knees…

“Oh!” Wonwoo says his thoughts out loud. Of freaking course! Dad always lent his jacket to Mom when the weather got a bit cold. Though, he’s not a businessman. He doesn’t have a jacket around waiting to wrap around her arms. Instead, he stretches the sleeves of his yellow sweater, placing the tips on her ears and mumbling. “You must be freezing.”

“Everywhere. Not just my ears.” She points out and thank God it has gotten late—though not really, he may hear an earful from his parents when he gets back home—. Or, they could come looking for them. For, both her family and his knew about their whereabouts. “You’ll ruin your sweater.”

“You’ll get sick.” Wonwoo points out the obvious, though he can’t help but give a toothy grin that is mostly braces. “…That could give us an excuse to come over to my place. My grandma always makes the best chicken soup. Dad says it heals the heart.”

She smiles at him, crooked, closing her eyes the slightest before returning her gaze to the sky. “I’m afraid we won’t make it home tonight. I don’t want to stay out from home.”

Then, she pauses, lowering her voice.

“I’m scared.”

He hadn’t noticed that while being under the rain with her seemed like the most romantic thing to do, it was also something that she didn’t want to do. Responsible, eager to wrap herself up in her mom’s arms as she had hot chocolate to ease the ache in her joints, that’s who she was. The stars become her north, though Wonwoo notices she’s studying the houses not too far, where the lights have started to take place one by one because of people turning them on at the dusk of dawn.

That’s the cue he needs for taking off his sweater, leaving him only in a white t-shirt with a dinosaur imprinted on it. Then, he’s placing the sweater on top of their heads.

“Wonwoo!” She screeches, covering her face with her palms. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ll get sick, too!”

“I am getting you home, that’s exactly what I’m doing!” His black hair sticks to his face, turning around with his sweater getting drenched while on top of him. He’s already out of their hideaway, nodding at her. “Get here! We need to run before we get entirely wet!”

“Jesus!” She adds, walking alongside him and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep the two of them under the sweater. Wonwoo would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart racing within his chest. “O—Okay. I’ll have my mom make you some hot choco in return.”

“Really?”

“O—Of course.” Teeth tittering, she gives him a smile when he looks down at her for a fraction of a second, running through the streets of their neighborhood, shoes ruined because of them splashing against the water-covered concrete. The tip of her nose glistens as if she had just cried, but she looks genuinely happy. “Wonwoo, you’re…the best boy I’ve ever met.”

They are only eight years old, but those words are enough to let Wonwoo know that he wants to be just as old as his parents are and cling to her hand just because he can, and because he wants to. He guides their scavenging, blushing, trembling, mumbling and tripping over his own words, perhaps even his shoelaces, because he is so young and yet, he knows this is love.

The romance his grandma always coos about in those books she reads as her dishes are finished.

The same love that his brother got scolded about just a few days prior for drawing hearts on his notebook.

The love that adults say they can’t find because they are too blind to the obvious. Only a heart that loves purely is able to hunt for romance. For, if love is viewed by a battlefield, it will only be a matter of time before the ticking bomb explodes and their territory is turned to ashes. He may not know a lot about life, or if they’ll last forever, but in his short years of living he knows he doesn’t want her anywhere but at his side, each and every afternoon, playing in that park near their neighborhood, swings with their names written in between doodles of hearts.

###

UNIVERSE 06: i promised i’d stay.

The first night of living with somebody should feel like the initiation of a construction work that only architects could battle with. It’s a promise of sorts; the trial and error that every relationship needs to go through, and she’s so certain about Wonwoo. Everything that he has established and shown to be in the year they have been together, but at the same time, lying next to him as the lull light of his reading lamp bathes over them, his eyes half-closing as he dives into a good read, feels like she could die at any minute.

Not because of him, but she just wants everything to go well.

It’s the fear of having people a few years from now telling her that they saw it from the get-go; that they wouldn’t work out in any way. It’s the irrational thought that pops in her head and tells her that, much like blogs and memes have emphasized, people are not to be trusted, for no one loves truly in this time and age. It’s the weight on her chest that tells her that he loves her, but she could have tried to put on something sexier instead of her usual cartoon pajamas.

She tries to fall asleep to no avail. People say that relationships no longer exist; we are just going from one person to the other, searching to be found. However, the thought of not having Wonwoo by her side and failing in this terrifies her. She is supposed to be the love of his life, the woman that he sighs about every single day and the mere reason why he has a smile on his face. She doesn’t ask for perfect, for they have had their arguments with tranquil conversations aiming to be respectful between the two, but she wants it to be him.

But what if it’s not him?

What if it’s him, but she’s not his ‘it’s her’?

Another turn on the bed.

Another tug of the sheets.

Another sigh.

Wonwoo closes his book softly, eyes closing the slightest before he turns to the side. That’s when he comes face to face with her, pulling the covers slightly over his chin before he connects his gaze to hers.

“I can hear the gears turning inside your head.” He whispers, licking his bottom lip and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before sighing. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” She lies through her teeth, afraid of what he may think in that moment of overthinking. Though, Wonwoo doesn’t eat it up, humming at her words.

“Are you sad?”

“Not precisely.”

“Are you angry?”

“Not precisely.” She repeats.

“Is it something I did?”

“Not precisely.” She confesses, hiding her face on his chest and feeling all the weight on her shoulders come out in a sigh. “It’s the fear of what you can do. Like leaving, stop loving me, hating me after moving in with me…wanting to go somewhere else, loving someone else—”

“That’s impossible.” Wonwoo says with a scoff, placing a hand on her face and pressing kisses to her cheeks repeatedly, each softer than the last one.

“Promise me it’s impossible.”

“I can swear.” Wonwoo announces, pulling away to kiss her lips. Her heart races and calms down at his motions at the same time; the paradoxical magic that he pulls with her. “Because I choose to love you every day, even when there are millions of people out there, and circumstances that can happen between us. I choose to go to bed every night with you because I was tired of thanking God and having to think you’re far away. I won’t hate you, because I want to make it work.” He stops for a second, rubbing at a tear that had glided down her eye. “I choose you here, now, tomorrow, forever. You’re the love of my life not because the universe put you on my road, but because I choose you.”

Sometimes, we get lost on ‘the one’. The one person that was made to perfection to fit exactly what we wanted. However, we shape the person we love within our thoughts to be the one that we wanted. It’s up to us to accept someone, or feel like they are the kind of person that we want by our sides forever. She thinks this way as she cuddles closer to his chest, intertwining their legs, imagining if it will feel as safe and beautiful as it does right now when they are eighty and he keeps reading a few chapters before going to bed.

After all, doubting Wonwoo comes in spurts that disappear when she recalls that she feels like she has known him forever. Here, in this lifetime and the many ones to come.

Maybe, in another universe, they are just as in love as they are right now.

#wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #seventeen x raeder #wonwoo #kpop scenarios #writing #soulmate!au

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signedeclipse · 1 year

Note

douma, gyutaro & rui’ s/o (separately) wandered outside and they thought their s/o left but were just making flower crowns and didn’t noticed they’re out of their demon’s territory - 💀 💚

Douma

You were supposed to be sound asleep in his room when he finished his meeting

But an empty bed and creaked open door letting in the snow told him 'supposed to' didn't mean 'would be'

At first he contemplates if you ran, if all of your emotions had been a ploy not too dissimilar from his own, but then he decided you were too genuine for something like that

Or perhaps he assumed himself to be too good at telling

Then he hurried out the same door you did, remembering humans didn't do so great in the cold and you did not have the proper attire to survive out there

He couldn't sense you any longer, which told him you had either left or been taken long ago

Fortunately he could rely on foot prints in the snow, but the further down the mountain he got the less there was

Then he relief on scent until he found you halfway to the bottom crouched in a meadow pilling all different kinds of flowers into your arms as if your life depended on it

Of course, he forgot sometimes your motives weren't as predictable as he'd expect

"Almost done, are we?"

You dropped all your flowers upon hearing your voice, but the demon was so close his chest wa snow pressed against your back, and he caught them all into his hand with a swift swipe

Once a show off always a show off, he opts to carry you home so your feet don't get frostbitten

He also pinches your cheeks a lot and calls you so cute for such innocent displays of behavior, maybe he'll let you teach him how to make a crown when you are safe and warmed up at home

Gyutaro

Entertainment district isn't exactly known for its lush fields or flower shops

Out of the ones that do exist there they tend to be over expensive and not in much of a variety

So without even thinking to tell the upper rank expecting you back home in a couple minutes, you bought yourself a snack with the flower money and ran off to the fields

Gyutaro notices the moment he can’t sense you any longer, but the sun hadn't set yet and he can't really do anything so he tried to follow you as far as he can through underground tunnels and through the empty spaces of peoples homes

He knows there are slayers looking for him out there, and he can't help but fear that someone got you

The moment the sun is down just enough he flings himself out into the shadows and follows the direction he had been following you in originally

It was right towards the exit of the district, which had him even more concerned

Following you while avoiding people wasn't easy, but he'd risk being seen if it meant getting you back before too much blood was spilled

Except... you were completely fine

In fact, he found you passed out in the field with a couple of flower crowns and an empty drink glass

Immediate 'why do I even try' pang, but he will make sure you get home safely

When asking about the flower crowns after you've woken up he is pleased to hear you worked so hard to make such a think for yourself, him and his little sister

He'll forgive your foolishness just this once

Rui

The mountain which you called home was so dense with trees it was almost out of a fairytale, where monsters hid

Well, that wasn't wrong to say, the forest was plentiful in demons beyond people's imaginations, trees tall and encompassing to the point where it almost always looked as if it were night

It allowed the lower moon to thrive beyond just the day, but he still had to be careful

On this particular day the wind was strong, allowing rays of sun to break through and make it far too dangerous to chance going outside

But you were fine to go out, and Rui wasn't all that demanding of you so long as you promised not to stray too far or put yourself in any kind of danger

Neglectfully, he trusted you

Because since the sun had risen, which it was now almost fully set, you had not returned

In fact he could no longer sense your being anywhere, which means you were no longer on the mountain to begin with

Once he was able to step outside, he was rushing in the direction he last felt you, partially with worry and partially with anger

Had you run away? It seemed nothing like you, but no one could have taken you, he would have known they were there

Once he gets near the edge of the forested mountain, he knows exactly where you are, he can see you sitting in the fields just beside the dirt path between the fields

Instantly he is relieved to see you are okay, and he is more than curious as to what made you so interested in sitting there all day

Noticing you have piles of all kinds of assorted flowers around you, he realizes you must have gone so far because the forest's density prevented anything more than white blossoms from growing on the ground

Might be a little cross and short with you for even causing him to worry, and he will also confiscate your crown you spent hours on

But next time you see him he's wearing it, so maybe it isn't that rough of a punishment

Authors Note - I love this prompt sm,, thank you skull anon! Happy to see you got to sneak in a request or two as well ;]

#demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny headcanons #kny #headcanons #x reader #reader insert #gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #rui x reader #rui #douma #douma x reader

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yeyinde · 9 months

Text

lavender skies | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him. (And that, maybe, you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

tags: friends to lovers (but the type of friends who are basically already dating and everyone knows except them - until suddenly they do), mutual pining. Slight Kent bashing, oops. Golden Girls as a coping mechanism. warnings: none. very tame, considering who I am as a person. Heavy make-out sess, though. word count: 6,6k notes: This has been sitting in my requests forever (I lost the original, but the gist was: Gaz + pining + idiots in love). You can blame a lot of this on summer rain and 80s city pop. Been going to the pier and listening to it while I wrote this. Not my best, sure, but it was fun.

The Tinder date he warned you not to go on (and seriously, mate, who uses Tinder anymore?) ends like this:

Your date, the biggest gentleman in Kent, as proclaimed in his bio (a red flag in hindsight—there's no such thing as a gentleman from Kent), sneaks his number to the waitress, and then leaves you behind in downtown Manchester to go bar hopping with a group he just met.

It's not a great loss. All things considered, it's not even the worst date you've ever been on. It was just a spur-of-the-moment whim—equal parts anxiety and megrim: the sudden fear of being single forever (and no, despite what Kyle might say, it has nothing to do with the wedding invitation you'd gotten on Facebook, or the three others that came before it)—and therefore, there isn't much to be upset about. Not really.

But the world doesn't work on half-hearted lies and shaky truths, and on a dank little corner in Manchester, abandoned by your ride home, your abysmal date who barely looked at you, you can't deny that it hurts. That it's a little bit of a hit to your self-esteem in a way that makes you angrier than you were before, because, honestly—he wasn't even a catch to begin with.

Stupid.

You should have listened to Kyle, to his immaculate wisdom and emotional maturity far beyond his years, but you hadn't because—

Well. Sometimes the world should work on little lies. If only to the ones you tell yourself. Ones like:

It's completely fine—really it is—if your friend of nearly eight years is moving on with his life. And it's totally, absolutely okay if your best friend meets some flighty barista in Amsterdam and won't stop talking about her for the meagre three weeks he's been back from his impromptu trip to the Netherlands, then to Mexico. It's fine. It's all fine.

Because maybe you are, too.

And maybe that's the reason you went out with David from Kent.

From Kent? He texted, only hours before your date. (Hours because he'd been busy with this thing for his job—his boss is corrupt and the world is, too, but at least Amsterdam Barista is doing fine). You can do so much better than that, birdy.

You wanted to say, what? Like someone from Amsterdam instead? but you're doing this new thing where you try not to sound as mad as you think you are. Zen, maybe. Internal peace and happiness. So, instead, you say:

He's nice. I like him.

Words that, of course, have come back to bite you.

He isn't nice. He wouldn't stop staring at the waitress, and talking over you, or just generally ignoring your existence. He left you downtown, stranded without a way home. You don't like him. You really don't even think you were that interested in him.

But it makes sense.

Kyle is moving on. Your friends are getting married.

And where does that leave you?

Well—

It leaves you stuck downtown with shoes that were intended to be used for aesthetics, the kind that means standing entirely still and immobile, and not walking the fifteen kilometres to your flat because you'd spent all your money on this super flattering outfit and these unfunctional shoes, and can't afford a cab or an Uber.

Sometimes, you pretend you're a functional adult—one who knows how to navigate everything with ease, and you live in the present, the real world, where time is fluid and unchangeable, and things make sense (maths and geometry and physics) unless they don't (black holes and the vastitude of space and fate)—but moments like these remind you that you don't. That you live, instead, somewhere in the parentheses of both.

The indigo sky, murky black and void of any stars, seems to grumble along with you as you turn toward the street, readying yourself for the long walk home. Except the groan sounds less commiserating and more ominous. A noise that seems to reverberate through the crowded street, and right into your bones.

Some have the wherewithal to find shelter. A smart move because almost a moment later, the heavens split, and a summer deluge drenches the street. It's unrelenting in its downpour, soaking everything in its path in a shrill roar.

Caught in the middle of St Peter's Square, there are not many places to duck under for sanctuary, but you find an alcove beside a store, and dart toward it. The non-functional boots are pretty to look at, but with each step, you feel the hard synthetic rubber grind against your heel. Blisters form, break. The burn makes you inhale sharply against the pain, hobbling now on tender feet.

The wall is slick with condensation, but you lean against it to keep your feet from taking the brunt of your weight.

It reminds you, quite suddenly, of that night in Cardiff with Kyle. When you'd drank three-dollar margaritas at some downtrodden bar with your friends and ate rather limp-looking fish tacos (a mistake, of course, and Kyle still can't look at corn tortillas the same way), and laughed until your belly hurt at something he'd said—the words lost to alcohol and faded with time—and then leaned over, promptly throwing up in a bush.

You still can't drink tequila without giggling (and gagging) at nothing, a phantom memory, and the thought presses against a tender spot in your chest in all the wrong ways.

Time is fluid. An unavoidable truism that you can't escape.

There are people you've known since you were a child whose faces you can barely remember. Ones you promised the world to, to always be together, who you hardly think of anymore.

Moving on. Moving forward.

You think, then, of Kyle. Of the distance that lingers between you both, widening each day. It's nothing you've done, nor he; it's just—

Life. Concurrent. Everpresent.

It hurts to lose a friend, you'd always think. A small moment of grief, of loss. But not like this. Never like this.

Stuck in a downpour in the middle of Manchester, you realise you miss him. Have been missing him.

Huddling under an awning, you fish your phone from your soaked pocket, and pull up the only person you want to be around right now, in this moment of vulnerability. Loneliness.

You send him a quick text, date was a bust. Stuck downtown. Are you busy?

Kyle's reply comes three breaths later. For you? Never. Send me your location.

You send him your pin.

Another message pops up: stay put. I'm on my way.

You met Kyle Garrick at university.

It's one of those things in life that just sometimes happens. A happy accident. An eventuality that makes the world feel a little less daunting. A lock and key sliding into place. Sunsets in pretty ochre.

Someone you knew and someone he knew (two people who are now best man and groom in the upcoming wedding) decided to invite all of their friends out for a night, and it was then, slightly tipsy on cheap ale when you realised the boy in the back—a head taller than everyone else and more befitting inside the glossy pages of a magazine—was different, somehow, from anyone else you'd ever met.

It started when some stupid kids decided to pick on another. A smaller boy with a blue cap.

Kyle was the only one who noticed. The only one who seemed to care.

It was his anger that drew you to him in the first place. Moth to a flame. It's quick—the sizzling flame of a lit match: suddenly burning the wick and nearly uncontrollable. But it's short. A flickering star, burning bright, burning hot, and then being tempered and swallowed down until it's smouldering. Still hot, still dangerous, but—

Managed.

It was a snap. He was laughing, jovial. Telling jokes, and having fun, but still maintaining that enviable enigmatic persona: reserved but kind. Funny, but mature. And then it crumpled in an instant, folded away into anger. Bright and blistering. He walked to them, eyes blazing, and didn't wait for any excuses when the kids noticed him, just quickly decimated their foundations, and crushed their feeble lies between his teeth.

"Bullyin'? That's a pretty foul thing to do, innit, mate?"

And that was that.

He handed the kid back his hat—the one the others knocked off into the gutter—and told him, clipped, that he was better than them.

Just keep your chin up, yeah? Fuckin' losers, that lot. Don't go messing about with them anymore. Fucking pricks. That's a nice hat, too. Where'd you get it? Really? Oh, that's mint—

It was that moment when, unprompted and unnoticed, he easily slipped away from the group to help some kid he didn't even know that you realised you were very keen to get to know him.

"Fancy a kebab, hero?" You asked, smirking up at him.

A grin broke across his face. Sharp, feral. "I could always go to a lamb kebab."

The rest, really, just came quite naturally. Your best friend. The person you go to for anything—even terrible dates that leave you stranded in the rain.

You just wish you knew when it all began to change, to fall apart.

Kyle meets you near St Peter's Square.

You spot him first from your hiding spot beneath the awning, catching sight of his form moving through the (now) empty streets, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim trousers, the bottoms tucked, sensibly, into his fawn-coloured boots.

Even with the hood of his windbreaker pulled low over his brow, you can pick him out of a crowd with an ease that is as warming as it is jarring.

You wave him over when he stops on the mouth of Mount Street, looking in toward the Starbucks on the corner.

He finds you just as easily. And oh, his expression makes your toes curl in your misshapen boots.

Anger pinches the corner of his mouth, and hangs off the furrow of his brow, the divot between his eyes.

"Unbelievable," he huffs when he reaches you in the middle of the street, and sucks his teeth when you open your mouth to protest.

"It is what it is," you offer, playing the peacekeeper. You fall into step with him, trying not to wince. "I'm over it."

"Yeah?" The shadows across his brow deepen. "Are you sure? 'Cause… I'll fuck him up for you."

Setting your friend on a man from Kent feels entirely too vindictive, despite how much of a rush you get at the thought of seeing the man cowed a little bit. You shake your head, playing the part of a reasonable adult.

"It's okay. I'm just—I'm just, over this, yeah? Can we—"

Kyle stops you with his hand against your shoulder. "You alright?"

"My feet hurt," your smile is strained. "Terrible shoes."

"Take 'em off."

"Are you crazy—?"

"I brought slides for you. Figured you'd wear something stupid."

"Okay, fair. But—ouch? We can't all be crazy good-looking Armani models. Some of us have to work for it."

Kyle snorts. "Just take your shoes off, yeah? Throw 'em in my bag."

You can't deny it feels blissful when you lean against the slick wall outside of a shop, toeing off your tight boots. Aching feet freed from their prison. The sigh you let out makes him glance up at you from the pavement, bent over the rucksack he brought.

There's disapproval in his gaze—maybe at your choice. Choices. The date he warned you about. The boots. The socks he spots are stained with blood on the knob of your foot.

He tuts. A soft admonishment that cuts through the silence of the empty square. But it's all he says. He swallows the rest and drops the shoes he grabbed on the pavement in front of you, slowly pushing them forward with the tip of his toe.

You try not to grin when you see them.

Crocs. The ugliest ones you could find in Schuh. You'd bullied him into getting a matching pair with you. Neon yellow adorned with little clips.

You slip them on as Kyle reaches down to grab your boots. He pauses with them in his hand, eying them with something that taints the air with his disdain.

"When did you buy these?"

"On Friday." When he was sleeping off his impromptu trip to Chicago. He brought you home deep-dish pizza, frozen, and promised that it tasted much better fresh. "For the date."

"Why?" Is all he asks.

You shrug. "They're cute…?"

His eyes stray to your shoulders. The wet fabric of your shirt. His chin lowers slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on your flesh, on the goosebumps that bubble to the surface, spreading over your exposed skin. Eyes flicker, catching a droplet of water you can feel running down from behind your ear, falling over the slope of your neck. It breaks against your collarbone. He watches it all.

There's tension in the air. Static. The pressure builds and reeks of ozone when it presses into you, knuckles digging into the hollow of your throat. It renders you unable to speak—locked in a paradigm where the world beyond the honeycomb of his eyes ceases to matter, to exist almost. Thick honey ensnares you. Molasses. It clots against reason, logic, and makes you feel weightless. Floating, unmoored, in this unfamiliar abyss that closes in around you.

Except—

It isn’t.

There’s something aberrant about it, anomalous, that you can’t ignore; but beneath it sits a preternatural sense of familiarity that bends the paradox into knowns. Into tangibles. Concretes.

This is the same tension that has been simmering—festering, almost—since before he joined the miliary. In Cardiff when he leaned against you in the taxi, boney shoulder digging into your arm, and said, ‘dunno what I'd do without you, y’know?

It was the hazy smear of neon from the shops perched on the street. An ethereal gold hue streamed in from the window, cutting across the tenebrous in an asymmetrical chiaroscuro. The light was soaked up by him. Warm honey, the perfect compliment to his eyes, to the soft pink of his lips.

How could you possibly describe the feeling that spumes in the pit of your stomach outside of undiluted comfort?

Home.

It feels like like in shades; muted. A soft undercurrent that lingers inside something else, something deeper—

Moments in the foyer when he was heading back home for the evening. When he’d linger in the doorway, shoulder balanced against the frame, arms folded over his chest, and warned you not to watch Taskmaster without him.

He’d know, he said.

When you asked how, he just said:

“Because I know you.”

It feels like that. Like that and something more. Everything, all of it, coalesces into this. Into this moment where you can’t stop staring into the flecks of mahogany and charred birchwood in his eyes, and he can’t seem to decide where to keep his, vacillating between the slope of your neck and matching your stare. A lurch, a flash of something in your chest when your gazes meet. The deep sfumato of a bare forest in the middle of winter—rich browns, raw topaz, honey and amber in a sea of white. A sleepy hinterland. Solemnent and peaceful. Dreamy. Hypnogogic.

The world always seems to shudder into a deep slumber whenever he’s around.

He dips closer, swaying into you. Gravity, maybe. Tidally locked satellites on the same rung. Something bubbles in your chest. Unwinds from its dormant perch between the gaps in your ribs, and climbs up your esophagus. Ready, you think, to be free—

In the distance, tyres squeal against the pavement.

—and all at once, the moment burst, breaks. Shatters into a million pieces, cosmic dust, and you watch them fall around you, blinking rapidly, as though you’ve just woken.

It feels like slowly coming down to earth when you quietly gather your things, words now stuck in your throat. In their prison.

Kyle tears his gaze away from your bare skin, clearing his throat.

"Hardly." He murmurs after a moment and slips his jacket off his shoulders before wrapping it around yours. It smells of rainwater, wet rubber. Beneath the polymer, you can smell Kyle—vetiver, cypress, jasmine; sweet and heady—and you bury your nose in the hood when he turns back to the empty street. “Well, uh—”

You can’t speak. Not yet.

He seems to understand.

"Yeah," he nods, and reaches out, tugging on the end of the drawstring. "Let's get out of here."

The rain lightens into a muted drizzle, soft droplets that fall, almost rhythmless, on the wet pavement. The town sleeps, the streets bare. Empty. The only sounds come from your slick footfalls, a horn in the distance.

It’s an easy silence that lapses between you—not at all unlike the lulls before, when things were easy and featherlight and endless; when you could talk to him about everything, anything, and all of the worries in your life were saved for something else. Never him. Never, ever him.

But it tugs at something in your chest. The same pressure blooms at the edges, lingering in the periphery. You think of the spell you fell under—quiet yearning—and shake your head, desperate now to break it.

It’s just as easy to slip into familiarity. To tease, and taunt. And so, you do.

"I'm surprised you haven't said I told you so by now. That's so impressive self-restraint."

His gaze slides over to you. "Well, you know, it's implied."

"Oh, is it, now?"

"Yeah, like when you messaged me and told me about it and I said—"

"Who even uses Tinder?"

"—that he's knobhead, and you're gonna get hurt."

You scoff. "He's from Kent, so."

"Even worse," he makes a face, derision contrasted by the jaundiced lamp spilling over the pavement. "A Tinder date with a guy from Kent? What's next? Moving to Bristol?"

"It's a nice area."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure. As nice as Essex, maybe."

"The two are not even comparable—"

"'Dunno why you're rushing into anything, anyway,” he angles his chin toward you. “If this is about Carver's wedding, I said I'd go with you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

"That's sort of—like, you just have your own thing going on. I don't want to get in the way."

"I've always had my own thing going on. So have you. But that's never stopped us before, has it? What's changed."

"What about—" you swallow down something thick, bitter that wells in the back of your throat. "You know. Amsterdam. The Barista, or whatever."

His brow knots together. "And what about David from Kent?"

You sweep your hands out, motioning morosely toward your Crocs, your damp outfit. "This is what happened with David from Kent. Not exactly the fairytale meet cute you have with Amsterdam—" he makes a noise, like he means to interrupt. You cut him off. Bury it. "And besides, you should take her. I'll just—"

"I want to go with you."

"Why?"

Kyle falls to a stop near the Kebab shop you usually go to whenever he comes back from his missions, when he's craving good, hearty food that will rot his insides and clog his arteries. A small comfort from before, when everything he has now was just a dream, and you were struggling students in university who could barely afford a meal each and would split a lamb dinner over ale and terrible movies from the noughties back at your flat.

The suddenness of it all makes you blink beside him, slowly angling your chin up at him. A questioning noise wells in the back of your throat, but when you finally turn your gaze to him, it does out. A snuffed flame.

He brings his hand up, finger scratching at the soft patch of skin on the bridge of his nose where it starts to arch up. The look on his face, hidden, slightly, by the night blanketing overhead, but just illuminated enough by smears of neon and flushed street lamps for you to see it clove into something slightly flustered, hesitant. Sheepish, almost, like he hadn't meant to say what he did, and now doesn't know how to proceed forward. Cards tucked tight to his chest. Does he play his hand or fold?

You blink. Then blink again. Struggling, almost, to take in the suddenness of his flustered state.

Because the thing is:

Kyle doesn't get embarrassed or sheepish.

A running gag in your mutual friend group is that Kyle is twenty-eight going on sixty-five. An old man crammed inside the body of a young adult. He runs hot—passionate about his beliefs, quick to temper when he thinks an injustice is being doled out; a disciple of loose stoicism, but of a new age variety that is half parts stereotypical stoner chillness and ripe maturity—but he rarely is ever caught unawares enough to become embarrassed by something. He just has a perfect gauge of himself and those around him, able to quickly make friends with anybody he meets, and self-aware enough to know when he's in the wrong, when he needs to dial it back.

Being his friend for so long, you know the nuance of these expressions. His mien is ingrained in your head: known and catalogued. Nothing about Kyle is a mystery to you except the things you're barred from knowing (his second life away from home, you often joke: wholly confidential, entirety draped in secrecy).

But the look on his face is entirely alien to you. An expression you hadn't thought him capable of making.

It's jarring. It bludgeons into you with a ferocity that takes your breath away.

You know the man standing beside you, but this, everything else, is so unearthly. So foreign.

"Kyle," you hedge, taking a small step closer to him. You're not sure why. Maybe to reacquaint yourself with the man standing before you. Maybe to find something of familiarity within him to comfort the sudden crescendo of your pounding heart because even just the heady scent of his cologne—vetiver, amber—quells the sudden bloom of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. "Are you—?"

"No," he mumbles, then huffs out a soft laugh. It sounds mean, in a self-deprecating way, and your heart lurches for him. "Yeah, no. I'm alright. I just—shit, you know? 'Course I'd wanna go with you. Should be kinda obvious, no?"

Sure, you want to say. Sure, no, totally. Very obvious. And maybe had he not stopped, not made this peculiar expression on his face—like he isn't sure what to do when he always knows what he wants, what he's meant to do—you might have said them. Might let them tumble from your lips, equally self-deprecating and a touch forlorn despite never really knowing why, but that would be a lie, now.

Because you do.

The look on his face is upsetting—not because Kyle never makes that expression, or because he's never uncertain about anything, ever, but because you don't know it. It's not something you've ever seen before. And it hurts.

It's stupid. This whole thing. It shouldn't make you feel some sense of loss when he does something you don't expect. He always does. It's his brand, now—jettisoning across the world to catch bad guys and slap the trite American sense of justice and liberty for all across the faces of anyone who tries to oppose it—and you're very much acclimated to this side of him, the one he hides away from you, giving nothing at all about where he's going, what he's doing, what he's done, until he's back in England, safe and sound, and texting you at six in the morning for an English spread because he missed home. And maybe, maybe he missed you, too.

Those quiet moments are tucked into a cosm where it's only you and him, and greasy food, and reruns of Golden Girls together with your feet in his lap as you sit on the chaise and pick favourites (his is, of course, Rose) until the sun goes down, and he heads home because he has a debriefing in the morning in Hereford, and you have work. It's bereft of unease, of tension. Time slips through your fingers fluidly, and you hardly notice it's been hours since he first arrived. Comfortable, wholly, in his presence and in your skin.

Soulmates, everyone used to joke. You just get each other. Near finish each other's sentences.

Except for lately, where there has been this undeniable tension simmering between the two of you—a sense of fragility that you can't comprehend.

Growing apart, you thought. And then: guess it's time to do the same.

It made sense to make the first move. To download Tinder—much to his chagrin—and start looking for your—

Your Barista from Amsterdam.

And oh.

Oh.

Maybe it's the way the street light frames the angles and plains of his face, or the shadows that run deep lines of tenebrous across the valleys in his eyes, the sharp slope of his lips, the soft pout. The inscrutable expression that rents a jagged divot between his brow, and an unsure twist of his mouth. Maybe it's everything. Nothing.

But the only thing you know right now is that you know him. Have known him. Deeply. Intimately. In a way that goes beyond the boundaries of bodies, of flesh and blood. Bones and marrow. You know his soul. His essence. The foundations of who he is cobbled together in a lonely kebab shop over cheap ale, commiserating on an endless stream of papers and assignments; the eventuality of ever after when you hand in the final one. Over beans and toast in the afternoon, a whole day spent lounging in your flat watching reruns of Golden Girls, and petty arguments over Taskmaster that always seem to go a little bit too far, and never far enough. Fights that end two days later when he shows up with Greggs and a complete box set of that show you said you wanted to watch but never had the time for. Bargain shopping in Tottenham on an early Saturday morning because there's this chair, you see, one that you saw on their Instagram page and you simply must have it.

Soft moments in between, brackets where life doesn't seem to wrap its cold hands around your throat. Time spent in each other's company just for the sake of it.

Climbing onto your roof—a thatched mess of moss and straw and broken asphalt shingles that will one day give under your weight—and watching the stars, always searching for one that rockets across the sky while he murmurs beside you, quiet in this stillness that falls like snow in the dead of night around you. A hushed whisper as he relays the places he's been—all stars, he rasps, hand brushing wide strokes across the raspberry sky, dusted with light pollution: I'll take you there one day to see. Best fucking beer I'd ever had, too, just don't tell my cousin because he thinks the shitty lager he makes for his bar is good—and you try to picture it amongst the grey clouds. A life on the opposite side of the world. Just the two of you. Always.

And that's what it's always been, hasn't it? Just you. Just him.

It's sometime past midnight on a street corner in Manchester. Your feet hurt from walking all night, and your clothes are damp from the rain that caught you off-guard. A summer downpour. It clings to your skin in a way that's both freeing and wholly uncomfortable, but you're not thinking about that. You're not thinking about anything at all, not now. Not really. There's a silence in your head as the world falls into pieces, breaking like the jaundiced light that cuts crevasses and canyons in the tenebrous that colours sharp valleys of his face. He turns, then, a gentle list of his head as he takes you in, breathes your silence and questions the wideness of your eyes, the soft parting of your lips. The movement makes the light spill over the arch of his nose, the slope of his brow. The dawning of a new day. A new world. The untouchable of the moon where no light shines now burning hot under the sun.

(And maybe you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

So, you say it. You whisper all the words that bubble up, impatiently waiting between your teeth, effervescent and burning white-hot as they throw themselves over bone and flesh to be free.

Confessing goes like this:

Molten agony in your guts as the secrets you barely understand yourself dissolve into the atmosphere, spoken aloud and born on cobblestone and petrichor. Wide-eyed shock, uncertainty, as a new quiet falls over your shoulders, louder than anything you'd ever heard. Guncotton in your nose. A million detonations in your ears.

You've never much liked the silence. You break it, then, with your bare hands.

"...and that's basically it."

It isn't much. It isn't poetry. You're not even sure the words were real. A figment of your imagination, broken free because of baristas in Amsterdam and losers from Kent, abysmal dates and the unending fear of being wholly alone in a world you're not prepared for, all without the person who makes you feel a little bit better about the nothingness that permeates around you.

And sure. Sure. You don't need him. If Kyle decided never to speak to you again, you'd cry and you'd hurt, but you wouldn't be less of a person because of his absence. He doesn't complete you in the same way you've read about in thick books with strong-willed protagonists and an abundance of petty misunderstandings, but he compliments you. Elevates the good and stifles the bad. You want to experience things with him—not because there's some grand force at play, red strings knotted around your fingers that lead you back to him—but because you like his company. His thoughts. His mind. His presence. His essence fills you with joy in the same strokes it makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes. Good and bad. You want it all.

You want it. Want him.

And he—

He's taking you home a little past midnight where you'll make yourself beans and toast and maybe try and sleep, or turn on the television to watch four women you're intricately connected to eat cheesecake and solve each other's problems. He could be at his own flat right now, playing that video game he said he wanted to try when he got back, or watching that movie he was supposed to with his flatmates, his friends. He could be talking to some barista in Amsterdam.

But he isn't.

He's here with you. Still. Still.

"I just—," you say, or try to.

But the rest is a muffled gasp against soft lips when he presses his against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth.

You can feel your heart beating through your lips. Taste him on your tongue when he draws you closer, hands reaching, grasping. Pulling you into him, into his body. You fit against him, tucked safe between the parentheses of his arms. He tastes of cardamom and cornflower. Lavender notes between his molars. Hints of milk on his tongue. You drink him down and know, then, that this is what they mean they talk about love being a feast because you chase this taste for the rest of your life and never be satiated.

He loops his arm around the small of your back, dragging you closer still. As if any atom between your bodies is an affront. There’s no hesitation in the action, in the way he burrows into your skin. No trepidation.

And maybe it would be silly for there to be any. You know him—every iota, every inch; secrets whispered at midnight in a shallow breath and dreams uttered at noon. To be known, to know, is a powerful thing. You feel it ghost across your flesh, featherlight, and reach for it with your bare hands. Seeking, searching. You don’t stop until the tips of your fingers meet his warm skin, curling around him. Anchoring yourself to him. Stuck, now, in permanence.

You find spots that were untouched before. Behind his ears, the dip of his brow, the curve of his nose, and the slope of his jaw. Cupping it in the palm of your hand, a plinth for him to rest his chin.

Your canvassing makes him groan, makes him tilt down into you as he begins his own exploration, chasing you in a mad pursuit. Sliding over your valleys, your plains. Running over the rugged mountains and the steep cliffs. He scours your topography with eager, nimble fingers. It’s slow, languid. There’s no rush with this, a consensus you both seem to come to rather quickly when he pries open your mouth and tangles his tongue with yours. It’s sweet, soft. His hands mimic his chase, sliding along your body as if he means to commit the entirety of you to memory, searing it in his brain.

It’s only when he comes to a crossroads at your navel, pushed flush against his body, does he stop. You moan in despair at it, wanting more and more, not ready to give up this taste that curls over your tongue—saccharine sweet, salty—and Kyle echoes the noise with a groan, a quiet plea for air that both of you desperately need but can’t quite make yourself take.

“Fuck—” he groans again, breath stuttering out in sharp, deep gasps. “Can’t bloody tell you how long I wanted to do this for, fuck—”

His words seem to peel back the dreamy gossamer of a slowly burning sensuality. It ignites in a blaze, not at all unlike the swiftness of his anger. The sharp, sudden strike of a match. The crackle and hiss of flames renting the air.

The blaze starts at the point where your upper lip touches his, and almost immediately, it consumes you.

It's frenzied when he kisses you again—feral and wild: all teeth and tongue and nips against your bottom lip but the moment you sink into the fervour, Kyle changes it. Slows down. Chaste pecks to your sore lips amid a sensual onslaught. A languid roll of his tongue, soothing the burn his teeth left behind.

The way he kisses you feels like a paradox.

It's organised chaos. Refined madness. A cluttered mess of finesse and deliberate suckles; an artist's masterstroke.

You can't keep up. His rhythm is fierce and uncatchable.

Each step seems to stutter. An avartan you can’t keep pace with. Elongated taals, dips. A crescendo of harmony that is matchless, unreproducible. You struggle along with his swift current, his unerring tide that sweeps you away; unmoored, adrift. The tentative exploration ends. He knows you, now. All of you. And this is his summit. His scramble to the top. It’s biting passion; roaring flames.

You cling to him, holding tight to the liferaft he offers in a slow huff, a gust of mirth across your lips and into your lungs, slowing down to accommodate you. Malleable, now, he lets you lead, lets you take over, and move seamlessly with him. In tandem, parallel. Equilibrium brings you to heel, and you sigh into his mouth—a deep exhale of everything that has been building and building, tipping the scales around you until it was unbalanced and precarious. Teetering on the edge a precipice unknown.

His hand roams across your known geography—hills and streams, rivers and canyons—until he reaches your hand still bracketed around his cheeks, slowly peeling it away from his flesh to slide his fingers between yours, holding tight, and—

Kissing is immaculate. Bending at an altar, and making an offering to something bigger than yourself. It’s the spark of lightning flashing overhead, static in the air. Magnets drawing closer and closer until they snap together in the middle.

But holding his hand?

It feels like coming home.

The world tipping back into place. Amber warmth in your veins; the softness of a jasmine petal. You suck in a deep breath at the shock of it all.

You think of missing puzzles and loose sea ice drifting alone in the vastitude of the ocean. You think of a life where he isn’t in it and find yourself shuddering at the wrongness that emanates from it.

You want him. Want him—

It’s Kyle who pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours. You blink slowly, eyes catching dark amber, honeycomb. It draws a smile from you, full and deep. Giddy on the taste of him, of this.

The only thought in your head is finally, finally.

You see his lips curl in response, eyes lidded and heavy. Blooming with want, affection. Adoration.

"What, ah—," he laughs a little, then, breathless and happy, and the noise anchors itself to your breastbone, pressing into the hollow of your ribs. A place you'll keep it forever. "What now?"

He hands you the starless sky, and places it into the cup of your palm. Breathes laughter in the air, paints the moon with his joy. You think about the places he wants to take you, and the ones he swears you'll never go. You think about aeons from now when the world is gone and the stars all die out, when there's just the hazy lavender of endless abyss you can't make sense of. You think of him, and you think of you, and you wonder when it started to just make sense for there to always be two.

Maybe that night in Cardiff when he held your shoes and gave you his coat. When he draped his arm around your shoulders, laughing at something stupid you'd said. A year before he joined this task force he makes cheeky remarks about but never goes too deeply into detail. When it was just endless summers spent working and drinking and eating good food.

He'd asked the same thing, then, half slumped over in the taxi, and three sheets to the wind. It made his eyes darken, endless pits. Black holes. The expanse of the sky is framed by brown lashes, and drooping lids.

And you'd said—

"Beans and toast?" It feels right. It feels good. "We can—"

He huffed, too, just like he does now, and squeezes your hand once, tugging you along.

"We're not watching Golden Girls."

You watch Golden Girls. Kyle wraps his arm around your neck, keeps you tucked in close to his side. He steals kisses from you when Sophia says something that makes you laugh until you're breathless and trembling.

When David from Kent texts you, he grins wide, and whispers in your ear, think I've always been a little bit in love with you, you know?

Yeah, you say, and kiss back until the taste of him is etched into the space between your teeth. Since Cardiff. For you?

"Since Uni for sure." He smiles again, sheepish and a touch flustered. It glitters on his brow and nips the apples of his cheeks. "You stole my heart when you devoured four lamb kebabs and then ate my tabbouleh. Said to myself, yeah, that's the one for me, innit?"

"On second thought, what's that Barista's number? Might try my luck instead."

"Nah, you're smitten," he presses his lips into the hollow of your throat, nips his teeth against your pulse point. "And you're all mine. No take backs."

"Ah, for fuck's sake—"

Ahhhhhhhh. Sappy romcoms are my kryptonite and it shows.

COD MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod gaz x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #ehhhhhh #these are my sloppiest tags #i didn't feel like making a gif so i threw this together real quick #will fix in the am #when my eyes aren't on fire

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rosazoldyckk · 1 year

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𐬾𐬽Life with the Zoldyck family HC’s𐬾𐬽

Pairing: Yandere!Illumi X Kidnapped!Reader. Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Genre: fluff?? Idk tbh. TW’s: mentioning of kidnapping, manipulation, violence and possessive nature. And Illumi.

Disclaimer: I posted this on my last tumblr account but it got deleted and I can’t get it back. So it will be posted here😅 this post got a lot of attention on my last account so if this post is recognised from anyone then I want to say this hasn’t been stolen and is my original work <3

684 words

Living with the Zoldyck family is scary..... and strange.

There was fear and the constant paranoia that you were going to die—either in the hands of Illumi himself or a member of his family, you didn't know which.

However, you have nothing to fear, Illumi, in his weird and creepy way, always finds a way to reassure you that as long as you love him (and only him) you have nothing to worry about!

Of course, it takes sometime to get used to the sinister and grim place—along with the unerving, and dark, humor some of the family members have. *cough* Milluki *cough*

Illumi, as well as the rest of the Zoldyck family, are well prepared to deal with your timid and skittish personality.

Anything assassin related is kept to a low (demanded by Illumi) and you won't be exposed to any Nen until he feels as though you won't faint at the sight.

Surprisly, Illumi isn't as mean or harsh to you...but don't let that fool you. He is, without a doubt, a manipulator. The dark male could go two ways on how he treats you as you adjust to your new life.

Be submissive and accepting your fate will earn you more freedom (ie allowing you to accompany him and his family to social gatherings and being shown to the public. Heck, you might even be allowed to come along and watch him do is job, fun right?).

Be difficult and distant...he will have his fun breaking you. You will be chained to him (literally) with no free will whatsoever.

If you need to pee, he has to permit it. Oh? You're hungry? That's too bad! He's stuffed from dinner (in which you had to watch). Exhausted, my dear? Maybe you shouldn't have been a brat and you could sleep.

It depends on how you take it, but, eventually, you will start to love the male and he will bask in it.

Silvia and Zeno absolutely adore you. Zeno finding your "love story" with Illumi to be romantic as their parents and Silvia being glad that his eldest son has found a 'submissive' keeper. (Not like Illumi will ever let you go)

Kikyo however is pretty hard to get along with but she'll never seem to understand that. If she considers you an outsider still, then she is very cold and standoffish.

She'll even go as far as to try to chase you away with physical and verbal attacks. (Until Silvia intervenes at least)

It will become worse if she decides to treat you like family, she is very possessive of her children. So once she considers you good luck, contrats you have one protective and doting fan.

She will be a bit borderline creepy but hey that just means she likes you

Other than that, You get along with almost everyone in the house

almost everyone.

Milluki has a problem with you.

Whether it's because he doesn't find you worthy of the Zoldycks' name or because he can't stand how caring and soft looking you are.

Maybe, it's because he has his own crush on you?

Or perhaps he's upset because he can't play with the new toy? Either way, he finds you a useless nuisance and will make things difficult for you to adjust.

Mulling over the idea of Milluki having a crush on you, I can see him being a bit of a voyeur.

Watching you and Illumi when you both indulge in sexual activities and sneaking peeks at you as you bath or sleep.

He's jealous of his older brother and will eventually challenge him to a fight over you (of course that only happens when he manages to get close to you, which once again will be impossible).

(And lets be honest would he really win against Illumi? I doubt it. But I bet it would be funny to see him fight haha)

All in all, living with the Zoldyck family is without a doubt overbearing and scary. But, be a good girl/boy and play along with Illumi and all will go smoothly. You will gain the families upmost respect and be treated like a member, and Illumi will treat you with the highest respect.

But be difficult and refuse to comply will only lead you with heartache and misery. Illumi won't hesitate to stick a couple needles into your head until you behave.

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pumpkin-patch-cat · 4 months

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New Job, Who Dis?!

(Grim x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings:(DLC ending spoilers. Suggestive themes)

Grim is now living rent free in my brain.

After completing the DLC ending of A Date with Death, I have decided it is my favorite ending and conjured up a little dialog. This oneshot hints to the endings outcome, so spoiler warning ⚠️. This was written quickly, so pardon any grammatical errors! Enjoy!

“Hold up, start from the top. What's my job description again?”

“Your job will be to give life back to those who aren't supposed to die. Sometimes, innocent people are caught up in things where losing their life was NOT part of the original plan. Because your soul harbors the essence of life itself, with you at my side, you'll be able to attempt to save those people who are at the presepist of dying too early.”

“Attempt?” You eye him quizzically from your place at your desk. Casper is sat at the foot of your bed, long legs outstretched, hands in his lap. He nods and continues.

“Basically, when a mortal is on the verge of death, their soul has become tainted with what we call a ‘blight’ or ‘blight of death’. Similar to ‘the taint’ for reapers, though much much harder to bounce back from when the soul or a mortals very existence is overtaken or ‘infected’ if you will. Some people can bounce back on their own, while others succumb and meet their unfortunate end. I say attempt because sometimes a mortal is beyond cleansing. The blight is too far gone, and no amount of divine intervention will save their existence....so naturally, when we, no, you receive cases like this, time is of the essence.

“I see...wow, that's heavy. No pressure or anything. Sheesh.”

“Yes. The job will be difficult at times. Y/n, there will be times when a person will be beyond help. You'll want to save them desperately. Times where no matter how much effort is placed into saving them, it may not work, and you will be angry. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed an innocent person parish entirely too early at the hands of a twisted version of fate. Those moments are out of my hands, and I have to ferry them away regardless. But that's where you'll come in.”

“Sooo I'm basically an angel??”

“No, they're grotesque creatures. They instill fear in humans and sugar coat their acts with pretty words. You'll actually give hope. Plus, you're much prettier than they are. Who really needs that many eyes and wings, honestly??? But anyways…”

You fall silent in deep thought.

“Y/n? Why are you screwing up your face like that?”

“Can I really do this, Casper? What if I mess up??”

“My sweetest, little nightmare. I'll be there with you every step of the way.” Casper smiles reassuringly.

“Thank God. OH! Do I get a cool ass scythe of my own, too?” You perk up almost immediately, wistfully looking at his impressive weapon that is currently leaning against your wall nearest the door.

“I...I'll never get used to the way you can flip subjects so easily. But yes, I guess. Once you're settled, we will get you fitted with a 'cool ass scythe'. Or at least a decent weapon you'll use to channel your soul energy. I know a guy.”

“You know a guy? That doesn't sound shady at all, but fuck yea!”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm.

“I'm glad you're okay with this decision. I really couldn't think of a better way for this to work out for both of us but-”

“But you have a big, sexy brain that was able to figure it out, now you're stuck with me foreeevvver.” You beam, triumphantly.

“I suppose I am, and quite frankly, I would have it no other way.” With a smile on his face, Casper stands, reaches for your hands, and pulls you to your feet.

“Awww, little reaper. Since when did you get so mushy? It makes me want to violate yo- I mean...I could really go for some food right about now. Yea, food. That's what I meant."

“...You really are something else. We will grab something on the way to my place.”

“Bet. Finally making good on us moving in together?”

“Obviously. I can't escape you.”

“It was inevitable, Casper”

“Seems so…and by the way…”

Casper slips his arm around your waist gently, leaning into your ear.

“I'll take you up on that offer of 'violating' me later, my little nightmare.”

“You just want to be stepped on.”

“S-stepped on? What..uh...I”

“The blush on your cheeks says you do. Can't take it back now. Your fate is sealed. I hope you're ready.” you wink.

“Haaa....fuck.”

#help I love him #ahhhh #a date with death #grim reaper #grim #grimmy #oneshot #casper #grim x reader #writing

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azurlily · 6 months

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Our obsession with this game is natural... PROMISE(lies)

To anyone who played the game, yes, all romancable characters + Elena and Mia are requestable.

New writers on the block yall! I'm Lune, this is a collaborative writing effort from the original owner(Azurli) and I. This somehow just turned into shit about Bella being crazy and and in love with you, so enjoy.

Bella's Obsessive(Toxic) Tendencies

Bella loves you, she does, but sometimes she loves you too much. The idea was in her head long before she had gotten her heart back.

Bella had dreams of you, of you in her arms - without a shirt or pants. You looked beautiful, and every night she'd wake up in a sweat, her face red, and her thighs wet.

After Bellas heart was unnumbed(is this a word?) she was feeling so much, too much.

One moment, she was happy and content with being around you; the next, she was mad because someone looked at you.

Toxic isn't how one would describe the beginning of your relationship. It isn't how Bella would describe it either, but to outside forces...that's exactly what it looked like.

To others, it seemed like the horrible Ice Queen on campus had decided you would be hers, against your will.

Which, in reality, we all know is far from the truth. With how deeply you love her, you two will be able to overcome anything, even her overly possessive nature.

Right?

Of course, if Bella is anything, it's a fighter. It's not like she's become so used to being trapped under Miranda's thumb that she has begun to develop a complex.

That's preposterous. Bella doesn't worry about what would happen if you found someone different. She doesn't dream about you finding the girl that got a bit too close to you, dead. And when you run to her in fear, you hug her knowing she's never done anything unless it was to protect you.

Bella doesn't imagine Mia's blood on her hands as you cry into her shoulder, thankful to be protected.

Bella is perfectly sane in her love for you.

Now let's be serious.

Bella would give you anything and everything. Well, maybe not anything... not yet, at least. She wouldn't hurt her family for you, but damn, the anger she holds for her mother at times. She worries for herself.

Bella gives you her all in the relationship. That means she gives all of herself: no more secrets, no lies. She bares herself to you wholeheartedly and completely. She expects you to do the same, so if you don't, you will lose her. You love her too much not to, right?

Right.

"I love you, you know that right? You make me so happy, I love you so much."

Bella's words are a sweet poison; don't drink it. After a fight, she'll storm off not only to cool herself down but also to let you cool off.

You've both learned that this is for the best, especially if you want to keep this relationship going long-term, which you will. Bella wouldn't allow you to leave her.

On some occasions, Bella will wait for you to apologize first, and then she'll act like she was just getting ready to apologize to you.

Her words are as sweet as honey, but her voice is as sharp as a razor. You can't tell if she's happy, angry, sad, or horny.

Bella does this on purpose, and you're starting to figure it out.

When she speaks to you, she doesn't lie, so everything she says is true. However, the way she says it and the little words she sprinkles in change the meaning entirely.

That's enough of that though, Bella wants you to think of the good times with her. The fun times, the safe times.

The times when you're lying in her warm bed, her hands snaking up your thighs, a more content look on her face. She enjoys this, enjoys you, and she'll continue to do so.

Bella has a lot of pent-up sexual aggression, so what better time to let it out than the minute you two get back from a nice dinner?

Well, that sounds just perfect, and from the way you're crying out her name, it must sound good to you too!

"Shh, Kitten. We're going to play the quiet game, and you're already losing by a lot."

This wasn't absolutely horrible was it? I'm ashamed to have wrote this, and I'm sure my co-writer is ashamed to have read through it before posting.

Anyway this character is from the game Resident Lover, it's an amazing game made by @resident-lover .

I'm marking this as spoilers in the tags, and I hope anyone who hasn't played the game after reading this plays it!

#resident lover #wlw #women are hot #sapphic #obsession #bella dimitrescu #resident evil 8 village #resident evil fangame #resident lover spoilers #slightly nsft #just a lil bit #okay maybe more than that

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bimrsadler · 1 year

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Goodnight and Goodmorning: Part Two

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

Word count: 1,700

Warnings/tags: high honor Arthur, smut, wet dream, dry humping, hand stuff, first time together, unprotected piv, praise kink (what else is new), language, fluff

Notes: Smutty part two of a request for Arthur sneaking into readers tent after being away, fluffy part one is here

A soft morning sun peeked through the tent while birds chirped cheerfully and the horses huffed at the edge of camp. There was a chill that came with the early spring morning but it was hardly felt given how tightly Arthur was wrapped around you.

Sometime during the night he moved behind you, pressing his thighs against the back of yours and pulling your back to his warm chest. You couldn’t recall the last time you woke up so peacefully.

It was clear through Arthur’s deep, slow breaths that he was still asleep. He needed it and you didn’t want to disturb him, but it was hard to ignore the hard line in his union suit pressed against your lower back.

You knew it was possible he wasn’t dreaming of anything intimate and was just his body doing what it does naturally — but your mind certainly did wander.

Was he dreaming about your kiss the previous night, where it could have led? If you had asked him would he have taken you right then and there? Given what you felt of him behind you, it was all too easy to imagine how full he would make you feel, how deep it would go…

The wetness between your legs gathered and your hips instinctively rolled against Arthur; eliciting the smallest whimper and twitch of his manhood. Good God, now your mind wandered further.

Did he know on a subconscious level that your body was aching for his? Was he dreaming of burying his cock in your wet folds? His hand was tantalizingly close to your chest, thumb brushing lightly against your hardening nipple.

Arthur’s breaths quickened against your ear with another whimper, suddenly grinding against your backside. Well…maybe he was dreaming about that after all.

This had never happened before and Arthur surely would have been mortified if it had. It was difficult to tell if he knew what he was doing or was merely acting out his wet dream while still asleep. But the pleading “sweetheart” he let slip out against your ear was torture — you needed to know.

Testing the waters, your fingertips trailed along his forearm as you pushed your backside to meet his thrusts. With a shudder Arthur slowly woke, pushing himself away from you at the realization of what he was doing.

“Jesus…darlin’ m’so sorry, I didn’t mean — I… I’d never,” he stuttered apologetically.

“Arthur…”

“I’ll uh I’ll head back to my tent and,” he continued with a “dammit Morgan you fool,” muttered under his breath.

“Arthur please…” you gently stopped him as he began to sit up.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know what you were doing, but…” you paused nervously, hoping to sooth but also let him know you wanted more.

“…I liked it,” you admitted sheepishly. “Hope you don’t think less of me for saying so.”

Arthur took so long to reply you began to fear that he did, but eventually he whispered softly, “’course not.” He cautiously brought himself back to his original position behind you, “but I’d have a hard time believin’ ya.”

A pang of sadness hit your chest upon hearing that. He deserved to feel good, to feel wanted.

“Well you should, Arthur. I was just biding my time this morning thinking about all the things I want you to do to me…”

You felt his chest rise against your back, “that so?” You nodded silently with a smirk.

“Well maybe you should show me then…” His husky drawl was thick as honey and smooth as a good whiskey.

Reaching an arm behind you brought his face to yours, “oh I would love that Arthur,” pulling him in for a kiss far more heated than the night before.

You moved Arthur’s calloused hand along your stomach and between your thighs, warming him up slowly. He broke the joining of your lips to instead kiss your neck, covering every inch of skin tenderly. “Goddamn you feel so soft…”

“C’mere sweet girl, wanna see that pretty face.” He grabbed you by the hips and took control for the first time, moving you to face him. Gingerly running his knuckles down your cheek he cooed, “that’s better.”

The sunlight hit his bright eyes as they wandered along your body, taking in every inch with disbelief.

“Touch me Arthur,” you brought his hand to the swell of your breast — encouraging him to take over from there. He moved his thumb along the stiff peak showing through your thin chemise.

Your hips jolted forward, moaning timidly at Arthur’s touch and the feeling of the satin material rubbing against your sensitive nub.

Leaning down he planted kisses to your collar bone while massaging your breast in his shaking hand. Kneading gently, he let out soft groans into the crook of your neck.

Exploring further his hand traveled to your upper thigh, touching your ass in the same strong yet tender way. Clenching around nothing, Arthur took notice to your thighs squeezing together to relieve the ache between them.

He looked there where his gaze lingered, towing the line between lustful and proper. “Want me to touch you there?”

Smiling, you parted your legs ever so slightly with a shy smile, inviting him to feel what he did to you.

Positioning himself above, he kissed you slow and deep as his fingers gingerly slid down your folds, collecting the slick. “Jee-sus sweetheart,” he laughed in disbelief, “you tryna kill me?”

You felt your body flush with heat and let out an embarrassed laugh as you hid your face in the blanket, suddenly overwhelmed that Arthur was touching you there, when it was so obvious how aroused you were. The intimacy of his attention left you dizzy and buzzing.

“Hey — you don’t ever have to hide from me, beautiful.” Lifting your face to meet his, his lips pressed to yours while sliding a finger inside of you; swallowing your moans as he did.

If it weren’t for Arthur’s passionate kissing, the whole camp would have heard your ecstasy as he pushed another finger into your pussy, moving gently in and out with his thumb circling your clit. “Just like that baby…” you mewled.

It was for Arthur’s benefit too though, his raspy groans getting louder every time he stopped to breath. Somewhere between massaging your tongue with his and massaging your inner walls, he draped his leg over yours; desperately rutting against your thigh.

Feeling his hardness move against you was enough to finish the job. The waves of pleasure rolled through your clenching abdomen, breathy whines escaping as you pulsed around his fingers.

Arthur watched you come undone with murmured expletives and a hungry stare. “That’s it sweetheart, I gotchu.”

Not interested in waiting any longer, you urged him on top of you and pushed him up on his knees to unbutton his union suit — stroking the hard line straining against it as you did.

Arthur towering over you this way was something you never thought you’d see, masculinity and strength filling the air around him. Yet the quiet whines and softness of his touch brought together the best of both worlds.

Kissing his chest and stomach as more skin was revealed, you admired his form and the hair that nestled around it. The lower buttons practically undid themselves as his hardness broke through. Taking it firmly you rolled the velvet skin in your palm, thick and heavy.

Running your other hand along his muscular thigh you purred, “how’s this baby?”

Arthur’s head was thrown back atop his heaving chest. “So good, yer doin’ great sweetheart.”

Drunk on his praise you stroked him more fervently, Arthur shuddering and swearing as you did. “Dar — oh darlin’ I ain’t gonna last.”

Slowing your momentum you instead laid down, coyly pressing your legs together while rocking them back and forth. “Better take me then huh?”

Arthur parted your legs with a hand on each thigh, waiting at your entrance. Nodding gave him the permission needed to bury his cock in your heat, bottoming out as he did.

After the time spent teasing yourself while Arthur slept behind you — and his bringing you to orgasm, it was an exquisite relief to finally feel him inside of you.

Falling forward with an arm on either side of your head, Arthur whimpered your name. He stilled for a moment to let you adjust before finding his rhythm; fucking you gently into the cot with slow and sensual movements.

You gripped his arm with one hand and threaded your fingers through his hair with the other, tugging gently. White hot pleasure rippled through your core, still sensitive and swollen from Arthur’s handiwork.

“Y-you feel so good darlin’ everything boutcha feels, fuck — so good,” he rambled praises into your ear, unable to control his stream of consciousness.

His bicep flexed under your fingertips with each thrust, turning you on all that much more. Writhing beneath him you wrapped your legs around his waist and met his bucking with equal enthusiasm.

“Just like that Arthur,” you keened as your walls fluttered around his pumping cock, pushing him closer to the edge.

The small tent filled with the sounds of your stifled moans and amorous whispers. Arthur buried his face in the crook of your neck, hot puffs of breath hitting the skin he had gently marked, his full weight rocking your body as his bucking reached an erratic pace.

Without using his hands Arthur pulled out, thrusting his pulsing cock between your wet and swollen folds. Gruff groans disappeared into the pillow, Arthur’s body trembling on top of you with stiffening muscles, hot ropes coating the skin where your stomachs met.

Arthur took his time in leaving your embrace; drawing out languid kisses and quiet questions of if he did well and how you liked it. Blissful and satisfied, it was easy to reassure him.

When the time came to part, Arthur cleaned you thoughtfully with a bandanna — wondering how you got so lucky as he tended to you.

“It’s good to have you back, handsome.”

Arthur chuckled, “well it’s good to be back gorgeous. You have no idea.”

After moments passed tangled up together, you began to gather your clothes with a heavy sigh. It was — unfortunately, another day with more camp responsibilities.

“Where ya think yer headed to?” Arthur playfully grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down to the cot as you landed with a giggle.

“Told ya we were gonna take our time this mornin’.” He kissed your knuckles and pulled the blanket over your lower half. “Now get comfortable again and I’ll bring ya coffee.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #nsft #fluff #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

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i love a good old traumatized reader

reader whose favorite acolyte is xiao, even if he killed them once or twice ! at least he had the courtesy to make it quick..

reader who flinches every time someone makes a sudden move near them. we study their every move with an intense gaze, our body rigid and cold.

reader who does their best to disguise their emotions, but really can’t help but look at certain acolytes with apathy. i mean, who would look someone in the eye after they removed your limbs?

reader who wakes up screaming almost every night, still plagued by memories of the things they endured.

we try to act collected, sure, but the facade cracks sometimes around our closest acolytes. the ones we know we can trust- as friends. ((maybe kazuha, xiao, or itto. big guy. himbo. good hugs. also small guys. good for cuddling.

but yippee!! itto or kazuha never even tried to kiII us! that’s a win in my book. xiao on the other hand,, has beheaded us twice! we thank him for making it painless though. i like to think they all get along well

Few Headcanons + Slight Discussion

Sorry, Anon. This is too angsty and beyond my level of bad writing so no oneshot today 💀 Not to mention that this request is giving me heavy "mary sue" or "damsel in distress" vibes. I don't particularly like those if I'm being honest. So, instead, please accept these headcanons!

Although this idea is really good and well thought out, I personally disagree the idea of Reader even trying to be around their acolytes.

Sure, they may still have their favorite character and all that, but let's be honest, anyone who's gained PTSD at this level like Reader would want to stay away from everyone as far as possible.

However, I admit that to the people that were nice and didn't try to kill Reader, they will certainly be talked to. Said-characters will probably have to be prepared to face a lot of unhappy glares and faces.

Though I do doubt Reader will be even willing to go out all that often, so they'll probably invite them to their palace or something. Or maybe, if you wanna make it so that Reader does go out once in a while, Reader sneaks out and does their best to hide and visit said-characters.

Since this request has a slight soft spot for Xiao, despite him being one of the killers, I like to imagine that Reader has a admire-stay-away game with him. They admire them from afar, but won't go close or even start a conversation with him in fear of being killed.

Reader ain't risking being killed again, no matter how fast that man will make it. It's still traumatizing, alright?

Alright, back to the characters that didn't attempt to kill Reader. Itto and Kazuha are so going to get spoiled by Reader with a lot of things—personally made dishes, random gifts, and just simply having a relaxing good time.

Half suspect that Reader will be silent. They are trying to be aware of their surroundings at all times, even during these relaxing moments. Itto and Kazuha have to constantly remind them to have fun and relax because sometimes Reader gets to irked up of being caught.

Let's be honest, these two can protect Reader just fine. They've had their encounters with the Raiden Shogun (sort of, on Itto's behalf), so they aren't exactly scared.

And that's all I got! Sorry if this wasn't what you wanted, Anon, but it's the best I got. See you all around, now! :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I was originally going to reject this request, but I figure it would be better to just make headcanons of these. Do note that i might not be so lenient as I was with this request. I don't really like too angsty reader—sometimes they're just too much. It gives me "damsel in distress" vibes and I don't really like it.

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#yandere sagau #sagau genshin #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #sagau fluff #sagau headcanons #sagau impostor au #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau x reader #sagau xiao #sagau kazuha #sagau itto #genshin self aware

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dilucspanties · 1 year

Text

Morning sex.

ਏਓ

about ; morning sex headcannons,, but also more of a nap on zhongli's part

warnings ; fem!reader, nsfw, mentions of (consensual) somnophilia, semi-public sex

includes ; kaeya, diluc, zhongli, ayato, xiao

[ from mono ; this request was originally from my old account for morning sex hc's for kaeya. included some others i think would be into it ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ ]

ayato ; slow and deep, usually the one who initiates it

tw: mentions of somnophilia

the morning always came far too fast for the yashiro commissioner. he never got to savor them, as he would be busy all nights with busisness. he would come to your shared room late into the night, watching you sleep peacefully as he wanted nothing more than to lull his head besides you and drift off as well. when he did allow that to happen, it was short-lived, as the mornings greeted him with almost a blink of an eye.

however, you continued sleeping peacefully. undisturbed and relaxed, not even thinking to cover yourself up underneath the lustful gaze of the commissioner.

how were you to know that his gaze peered between your legs, looking in your night gown? how were you to know that the latter would spread your legs and happily find that you were nude under your dress?

of course, ayato would never allow you to believe such lies. it would only be with you awoke, your eyes fluttering open to the sensation of his mouth on your cunt, eating you up as if you were breakfast served for him. he would simply gaze up at you, your sleepiness melting away as soft whines and pants graced your precious lips instead.

his tongue would make small, slow laps around your clit as you shivered, hands making their way to his hair to bring him even closer to your cunt as if it would make him go any faster.

oh, how he wished he could hear you better. but, you musn't be too loud, you wouldn't want to wake everyone up!

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

diluc ; usually too tired to pull you off, lets you do as you please

as a prominent figure of the raganvindr clan as well as the darknight hero, the nights leave diluc plenty busy. so busy, in fact, that he would rarely see you. he tried his best, staying quiet in the middle of the night as he laid next to you, holding you in his arms as your sleeping form seemed to move closer to the warmth he provided.

diluc often savored his nights with you, even if they were as simple as holding you while you slept.

however, since his nights were so busy, he tended to sleep in sometimes. although extremely rare, you always tried to take advantage when he slept in for an extra few hours. in fact, you even reassured adelaide that you had a perfect way of waking him up.

so perfect that, as soon as the light sleeper felt your lips around his cock, his eyes sprung open in fear of a crude dream. but alas, it was simply the best way to wake up, he'd calm down as he'd peer down at you, a mischevious smile on your lips as you continued swallowing up his cock.

he would be breathless, hands combing through his hair as he tried to maintain his composure. His voice would be low and raspy first thing in the morning, his hands warm as he'd caress your cheek oh-so gently. "i'm awake now, darling." he'd hum, his eyebrows furrowing when you wouldn't stop. in fact, the short sentence would cause you to pick up your pace, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock which would be particularly sensitive first thing in the morning.

his voice would waver, hands intertwining with yours as he'd cum down your throat, his hair falling in front of his face as he'd sigh with the mess he made, and the mess you would soon be making as well.

"i suppose my meetings will have to wait."

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

kaeya ; a tease, tends not to do it often as he appreciates his beauty sleep

the cavalry captain is one who appreciates the concept of beauty sleep. his beauty isn't something that just happens, his hair is rolled up before bed, cooling eye patches over his eyes as he falls asleep.

he appreciates getting his full eight hours, and not being disturbed by trivial matters. that being said, he would never leave his pretty girl unsatisfied if she truly wanted him, though he would be more than inclined to tease her for her neediness.

kaeya would try to mask his moans as your cunt enveloped his cock in the early morning, bouncing on him as soon as you woke up, hair still messy and eyes half-lidded. did you truly need him that bad?

"did you dream of this, dear? is that why you're so needy?" he'd smirk, hands resting themselves on your thighs to help you as you seemed to be still sleepy despite messily bouncing on his cock. he found it so cute.

your sleepy yet needy whines, hands planting themselves on his chest to ground yourself, selfishly begging to cum as you chased your own orgasm. you were so cute like this, he would just have to tease you about it later.

but for now, he would give you want you want.

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

xiao ; flustered, not the type to initiate

tw: sub xiao (≖ ͜ʖ≖), begging

the yaksha is quite a busy man. he tends to work late, as well as be gone all day purging demons under the request of rex lapis. he is dutiful and selfless, so much so that he ignores his own needs and calls for sleep.

after all, if he's sleeping, who is getting rid of demons?

the thought would plague his mind, trying to fight off his sleep as he laid his head in your lap, skillfull hands playing with his hair as a means for him to drift off. it wouldn't take him long for him to fall asleep, dreams filled with you in quite... a lewd way.

the sounds felt almost realistic, the warmth of your mouth in his dream seemed to mimic itself. he would only realize that it was real when he'd wake up, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he watched you suck him off so early in the morning.

his voice, raspy yet whiny as he would try to silence himself. looking at you with teary eyes from the pleasure yet wide as he feared getting caught. xiao would seem powerless in your hold, trying to push you off yet simultaneously pulling you back for more, his eyes silently pleading you to allow him to cum.

"please– please, oh, stop someone will hear- hah, please more." he'd beg, his words contradicting himself as he'd beg for more yet ask you to stop. it was so amusing, all you wanted to do was tease him until he came.

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

zhongli ; initiates, but also loves waking up to you being needy as well

tw: semi-public sex, slight mention of riding his shoe but VERY SLIGHT!

the former archon, zhongli, truthfully is good at keeping himself busy. as a worker of the wangsheng funeral parlor, his work entails quite interesting people, like hu tao, which often leaves him exhausted after a day's work.

which is why zhongli often tended to drift off during work when it was in the slowest hours, his head laid upon his hands on his desk as he fell asleep to the passing ships outside of his office. he was quite a heavy sleeper as well.

much to the archon's suprise, when he woke up from his nap, he found you under his desk, his hardened cock in your mouth. his eyebrow raised at your gesture, which you only returned with a smile, not even thinking of stopping your actions.

"dearest one, you are aware that we are in a funeral parlor, correct?" he'd ask, voice low as his hands would make their way to your face, caressing it gently as he'd begin to guide you to take more of him in.

he'd play your game and play it well, not even faltering when hu tao would come in to his office, inquiring where you were as she just saw you! zhongli would attempt to hide his smirk, not allowing you to stop as you'd pause when you'd hear her come in. he'd simply state he had no clue where you were, his shoe making its way between your legs to tease your cunt, practically making it impossible for you to stay quiet.

꙳⸌♡⸍꙳

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theambitiouswoman · 9 months

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Hi! I'm not sure if you've done one before, and if you have, feel free to ignore this, I'll find the post, but do you have any tips on how to start your self love journey? I've been struggling from the beginning of the way and I've made some progress but I feel like it's not enough. And I'm not sure exactly where to go. I read so many posts on self care and self love but I don't know which to start with cause they all seem like something people who've been on that journey for a long time are doing. I guess I'm saying I'm lost and not sure where to start or continue 😅

How To Start Your Self Love Journey 🥰❤️‍🩹

1. Accept yourself and realize that you are worthy of self love: When you learn to love yourself, you won't feel scared of what others think about you, and you'll be able to embrace who you are. Figure out what you like and what you dislike. Create boundaries and learn your love language. This part of the self love journey is crucial. I recommend that everyone takes the time to figure out who they are and learn how to accept themselves.

2. Affirmations: Start using positive statements can help your brain think in a happier way. Even if you don't believe them at first, saying them repeatedly can make you start believing. Choose some positive statements and say them often. Write them on sticky notes and put them around your home.

3. Do Things You Love: No matter how busy you are, set aside time for activities you enjoy. Whether it's a short trip or reading a favorite author's book, prioritize things that make you happy.

The idea is to take charge and actively shape a life that brings you happiness, rather than settling for one that doesn't. Treat yourself kindly and give yourself the wonderful gift of a life filled with happiness.

4. Take Care of Your Body: A good 30 minutes of exercising can change your whole day and mood. Aside from exercising, you should change your diet to healthier options. The foods you eat affect your mood and energy. Don't forget to rest too.

5. Quit The Negative Self Talk: Self-talk is basically how we talk to ourselves. We tend to be really hard on ourselves. I wrote a post about it recently here. I suggest trying to find proof for your thoughts and questioning them. In short, focus on how you speak to yourself. Many of our thoughts are extreme or very black and white. Most of these thoughts aren't even original, our minds pick up so much throughout the day. Almost always, people project their own insecurities, values, fears, and opinions onto us. Treat yourself kindly.

6. Don’t Compare Yourself to Others: Comparison is the fastest way to bring yourself down. It doesn’t matter what other people are doing or how far they’ve come. Everyone works at his own pace. Everyone is unique, and no uniqueness is better than the other.

7. Don't Care What Others Think: This isn't just about rejecting criticism; it's also about not becoming too focused on compliments. Your value isn't determined by others' opinions. Don't rely on external sources to validate yourself. Your worth comes from within.

8. Forgive And Let Go: With emotional pain, we often extend our suffering by clutching onto negative emotions like guilt, shame, and resentment, sometimes indefinitely. Rather than releasing these emotions, we cling to them, replaying hurtful moments repeatedly, hoping the person who hurt us will feel the same pain. Yet, harboring resentment is akin to consuming poison and expecting our enemy to suffer. Clinging to bitterness doesn't alter anything; it merely confines us to our pain.

Forgiveness liberates us—it's about us, not the person we're forgiving. Prioritizing our well-being over being right, it takes responsibility for our happiness instead of placing it in someone else's hands. Happiness trumps being right. Freedom often hinges on picking happiness over being right. When someone makes a mistake, it can be more satisfying to let them believe they're right and move on, rather than stewing over it. Reflect on someone who irked you three years ago. Can you even recall them now? If so, does it still provoke irritation? If not, why invest energy in something you'll forget in a year or two? Once you genuinely forgive, release it entirely. Forgiveness involves moving beyond resentment, focusing on positive actions and intentions instead.

9. Start a Gratitude Journal: A grateful heart is a magnet for miracles. You attract more good things in your life by being grateful for what you already have. Understanding what gratitude is can help you on your self love journey because of how you appreciate what you already have. Especially when we are in a place where we are only focused on the negative things in our life.

10. Practice Small Acts of Kindness For Yourself: Treat yourself to outings and buy things that make you happy. Set aside money for little things you enjoy. Remember, even the small gestures towards ourselves matter.

I suggest forming the habit of creating habits that lead you toward your desired life. A book I recommend is "Atomic Habits" by James Clear. It shows how habits can be positive or negative, and how doing something small daily can lead to significant outcomes.

11. Surround Yourself With Positivity: Watch motivational videos, and follow accounts promoting self-love and body positivity on social media, and unfollow those who make you feel bad. In real life too. Keep a Pinterest board with uplifting quotes. Use positivity to counter negativity. Aim to be realistic with your thoughts instead of assuming the worst. Focus on positive outcomes, and if that's hard, start with neutral thoughts.

Don't go to extremes with forced positivity. Aim for practical positivity. For instance, you might not be the absolute best, but you're a hard worker and your best is valuable. You might not excel at something today, but you can improve over time through effort.

12. Do A Lot of Self Reflecting: Write in your journal. Spend time alone. This is how you really understand yourself. Challenge your insecurities and the things you imagine about others. Figure out if you're accepting less than you deserve or if you're moving towards improvement.

13. Get To Know Yourself: The journey to personal growth begins with recognizing and embracing your true self before you start building and improving.

You can learn more about yourself by pondering these questions:

Am I Content with My Current Activities?

What Do I Want to Do?

Can I Turn My Passion into Reality?

By understanding yourself, including your values, priorities, motivations, sources of satisfaction, and abilities, you can discover your true desires and drive personal growth.

14. Realize That Going on A Self Love Journey Is Not Easy: Embarking on a journey of self-love involves a lot of heartache and healing. You might come across various self-love activities and advice, but the key is understanding that it requires dedication and effort. It's not a simple task. There will be moments when you feel like you've wasted a lot of time, prompting you to reevaluate your approach. There will be times when you believe you're making progress, only to realize there's more to work on. It's essential to recognize that you're taking significant steps to unlearn old habits and make changes.

My suggestion is to genuinely take a moment to understand that self-love is a commitment. It's like building a muscle that needs regular exercise. Think of it as tending to a plant that requires consistent care. Recognize that self-love isn't always about positivity; there are challenges to overcome as well. It's a realistic journey that involves ups and downs, rather than just an easy path of happiness.

15. Discover Your Purpose: Discovering your purpose can bring more happiness and fulfillment to your life. Each of us possesses unique talents and gifts to contribute to the world. When you share what you're meant to give, you align with your best self. Follow what feels right to you. You don't have to have it all figured out.

16. Take Action: Instead of getting stuck in overthinking and planning every detail perfectly, take action. Even if you're unsure, take that first step. You don't need a complete roadmap; just follow the path that feels right and see where it leads you. Your initial step might not instantly lead you to your dream scenario, but it could serve as a foundation. Regardless of where you find yourself, value your current position. Understand that every action you take along your journey contributes to your ultimate destination.

17. Don't Start Everything Anew: You don't have to build your ideal life completely from scratch. Observe what others are doing that deeply resonates with you and brings you a sense of vitality. Is it their well-structured routine, their freedom from routines, or perhaps their ability to travel extensively? The more precisely you identify the elements that ignite your passion, the easier it becomes to visualize and shape your own desired life.

18. Act As If: Embrace the "fake it till you make it" approach. Hold the belief that whatever you desire is attainable, even if there's no current proof of its possibility. Behave as though it's already unfolding and remain receptive to opportunities that guide you toward your objective.

19. Surround Yourself with Like-Minded People: You tend to adopt the mindset of those you spend the most time with. Avoid people who bring negativity, and instead, connect with individuals who view the world as abundant. Invest more time with those whose thinking you aspire to emulate. If you're lacking inspiring connections, seek out new friendships.

20. Give: Giving is one of our greatest joys. When we have faith in the abundant nature of our universe and freely offer, we elevate our energy and create an opportunity to receive abundance in return. When we withhold because of distrust in abundance, we inadvertently attract the very scarcity we wish to avoid. The universe operates on a balance of action and reaction, like inhaling and exhaling, giving and receiving. Hence, the more you give, the more you open yourself to receiving, and vice versa.

21. Gratitude In Real Life: Gratitude goes beyond mere politeness of saying "thank you" when given something. True gratitude involves being aware of and profoundly valuing the numerous blessings in your life. Since gratitude generates positive emotions, it elevates your energy to a high frequency, attracting more positive feeling

22. Change Your Story: The stories we tell ourselves shape our lives greatly. Often, we hold onto untrue beliefs like "I lack money" or "I'm not capable," which blinds us to the many possibilities and chances around us. To reshape your life, begin by realizing that you are the author of your life. When you decide to draft a better script, your life becomes more meaningful. To let go of old narratives, first, be aware of them. If there's something you want to do but haven't, ask why. What's stopping you? Every story you tell serves a purpose, whether it's healthy or not. For instance, if you believe you're depressed, you might avoid exerting yourself and receive attention. We often prioritize the benefits of our stories over our actual desires. Comfort becomes more important than seizing control of our lives.

Once you identify old stories and their hidden gains, compose fresh, empowering narratives. To make these new stories your reality, focus on them. Embrace the happiness and excitement they bring. Use them as affirmations, repeating them until they replace the old tales entirely.

Self love can lead to you to big personal transformations.

You'll treat yourself with greater compassion and understanding. Your self-support and ability to forgive will bring a sense of calmness. Embracing self love enables you to truly live and embrace each moment. Through it, you'll have more love to give to others, improving your relationships. You become the architect of your own happiness.

#self love journey #self love #self development #self improvement #self care #self worth #self help #self esteem #love yourself first #personal improvement #personal development

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justmeinadaze · 10 months

Text

We're A Family Part 16 (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is very much a Steddie chapter and I love it so much. This is probably going to be one of if not my favorite chapter in this series. I wanted them to really fully embrace that lovers aspect of their relationship and totally be ok loving each other as much as they love the reader.

Warnings: Parent Dads Steddie and Mama Reader, mentions of trying and struggling to get pregnant, SMUT (between the boys <3), lots of fluff, Steve VERY BRIEFLY mentions fears of telling his family they are trying to have another kid. I think that's it. Genuinely just a lot of sweetness in this one.

Word Count: 3116

“Fuck me…”, Steve pants as he throws his arm over his eyes.

“I just did.”, you giggle as you roll over to face him.

You and Steve had been spending a lot more time alone in the pursuit of baby number three. Of course, Eddie was still very much involved in sexy time but he insisted if there was a point where he could take the kids out of the house, you three should take the opportunity.

It had been a few months and still no positive test. The doctor insisted you both were healthy and fine, you just “need to keep trying.” The metalhead did everything he could to help.

“Eddie, baby, why are you smoking so far away? You can sit next to me on the porch here.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I read online that smoke can affect you when you’re trying to get pregnant.”

“You were smoking around me constantly before and we still got Ro.”, you laugh.

“Baby, I can do the dishes. You’ve been at work all day.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. You and Steve just relax, ok? I got this. Wayne said stress sometimes can make it harder for you two to…you know…”

“Hey, princess! I went grocery shopping today so you don’t have to on Friday after work. I also got some more fruit. I read this book at work that was saying it helps with trying to have a baby.”

Steve grins as he turns to face you as well. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just…I don’t know.”

“Honey, it’s ok. It will happen when it happens.”

“I just feel bad. I feel like Eddie is stressing himself out taking care of us.”

“He has been going a little overboard.”, he chuckles. “Oh, I know that look. Dylan makes that face when he’s planning something. What do you have in mind, baby?”

***

“Mom, this place is amazing.”, Dylan’s jaw drops as he looks around the house the realtor brought you guys to.

It was a rustic style home that definitely had that country feel. The entryway lead into the kitchen on the right and gigantic living room straight ahead with a gorgeous stone fireplace. The back door was mostly clear glass so you would be able to see outside when the kids were playing.

“It’s beautiful. It’s not too far from Wayne either and it’s right next to the lake.”, Eddie grins, running his fingers along the countertop in the kitchen.

“It’s also within your budget and has those five rooms you had originally mentioned, ma’am.”, the man showing you the house guides you around, pointing out the two bedrooms downstairs and the backyard that is much bigger than your current one.

Steve pats Aurora’s back as she continues to sleep, drooling on the shoulder of his jacket.

“Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”

“No, ma’am. Take all the time you need.”

The four of you lean against the counters in the kitchen as you wait for him to leave. “What do you think, kid?”, Eddie asks.

“I like it a lot especially since it’s by the water.”

“It’s closer to my store but it’s a bit of a drive for the three of you every morning.”

You chew on your nail as you think. “Just an extra 10minutes which isn’t too bad. What do you think, Stevie?”

“I’m fine with the drive. We may need to update some things though like childproofing the locks and stuff. Other than that, I think it’s perfect.”

“Alright, gentlemen. Let’s fill out some applications and pray.”

##############

“Hang on, Ed.” Steve reaches over and grabs Eddie’s arm as he begins to get out of the car. “You guys have fun! “

“Bye dada an daddy.”, Aurora waves.

They wave back with a smile, waiting for you three to get inside before the man drives away.

“What’s going on?”, the metalhead asks.

“Y/N and I thought you needed some time away from the kids and the house so we’re going on a date.”

“Did Y/N not want to come? She should have a night out to.”

“Eddie!”, Steve chuckles. “She’s fine, trust me. Let me show you what a date night with Steve Harrington is like.”

“Oh, someone’s cocky. Alright, Harrington. Wine and dine me.”, he grins.

***

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, can you just…hold my hand. I’m so nervous.” Dylan smiles as he sits on the floor beside you and takes your hand in his. “This anticipation is killing me. With you and Ro it was just like ‘Hey, there’s a baby in there.’ I’ve never really had to utilize a pregnancy test like this.”

“With Aurora, you thought you were sick. Did you think the same thing before you found out about me?”

“Naw, with you, I was doing a routine exam and they had to make sure I wasn’t pregnant.”

The timer on your phone beeps and you sigh before reaching onto the bedside table where the test had been sitting. As you read the results, uncontrollable tears begin cascading down your face while Dylan wraps his arms around your neck.

***

“That band was fucking awesome!”, Eddie exclaims as the other man grins at his excitement.

Steve decided to take the metalhead to new bar just outside of the city limits. He knew how much he loved music, thinking it would make him happy to see some bands play while they drank and talked.

“It’s been a while since you guys have been on a stage like that. Do you miss it?”

The man shakes his head as he takes a swing of the beer from his glass. “I mean I still play with the guys but that rush that I used to get being on stage…no it’ll sound stupid.”

“No, come on. Tell me.”

“That rush I used to get…I get now with the kids. Dude, seeing Dylan on his first date and watching Ro learn do those vocabulary card things you got her… that makes me happy. I can’t wait to see what this new baby will be like.” Eddie notices Steve’s posture stiffen and he promptly reaches out to rub his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll happen, man.”

“I know. I hate seeing that sad look on her face with every period or failed test.”

“The doctor said everything was good though, right?”

“Yeah, just have to keep trying.”, he sighs before glancing towards Eddie. “I haven’t told my mom yet that Y/N and I are…you know. I’m afraid she’ll tell my dad and I have no idea what he’ll do.”

“Steve, babe, fuck your dad. He can try whatever he wants but he’s not breaking up our family.”

The man exhales a cute, breathy chuckle. “Did you just call me babe?”

The metalhead grins even wider as he leans closer to him. “Depends. Did you like it?”

#######

The bathroom door to the men’s room hurtles open as Steve pushes Eddie through it with his lips on his and quickly locks it behind him. The metalhead groans, shoving his back against it and begins fumbling with the other boy’s belt before lowering himself to his knees.

“Fuck.”, Steve mewls as the man below him takes his already leaking cock into his mouth. Eddie knows exactly how his husband likes it, you showed him well, and he revels in the sounds he pulls from him as he takes him deeper till he’s gagging around him.

It’s not just the action itself but his small, tender touches that have Steve moaning. While Eddie bobs his head, his hands roam the other man’s body, tracing the back of his thighs, up to his stomach. Steve can’t help but wonder how he would react if he spoke to Eddie the same way he talked to you.

“That’s it, Eddie, baby, fuck. Just like that.” His eyes fluttered closed as he tangled his fingers into his hair, guiding him as the metalhead’s rhythm picked up. Steve couldn’t hold out any longer, he needed him now.

He tugged on the boy’s hair and he took the hint, rising to his feet and hooking his lips to Steve’s sweet spot on his neck. Growling with desire, he lifted Eddie into his arms and placed him on the counter, aggressively yanking off his jeans. Pulling him to the edge, he lifted his leg over his shoulder and guided his cock into the man’s entrance.

Eddie’s eyes rolled as Steve slid his hand along his stomach, slowly thrusting his hips as he relished the feeling of the man he loved.

Did he tell him that enough? I’m sure if he asked, Eddie would tell him he’s being silly and of course he does. They had gotten much closer these past few years and became more comfortable sexually but there was a level of intimacy Steve felt they still struggled with.

“Eddie?” The man responded with a hm as he bit his lip to keep from moaning too loud. “I love you.”

He heard the change in Steve’s tone, promptly opening his eyes to scan him over. Propping himself up on one of his elbows, he reached over to caress his cheek as his thumb glided along his skin.

“I love you to.”

“No, No. I love you.”

Eddie blinked a few times before wrapping his hand around the man’s neck and pulling him down till he was hovering over him.

“I love you to. So fucking much, sweetheart. I-I grew up feeling like no one—mmm—no one ever really cared about me. Then I met you and Y/N.” He craned his neck to capture the man’s lips. “Steve, you can talk to me like you talk to her. I like it.”

“Yeah? So, you would like hearing—fuck—hearing me say things about how good you fucking feel, baby, squeezing my cock?”

“Jesus.” Eddie laid back flat against the counter as his hand reached down to stroke his own dick.

“That’s it, Eddie. Play with yourself while I fuck you. God, you look so fucking sexy right now.”

“Ha-harder, Steve. Please.”, he moans.

“Is that what you need, honey? I can do that.”

As he rolled his hips into his roughly, the metalhead covered his mouth with his palm, suffocating the urge to scream at the pleasure that ran through his body. His back arched as his abs tensed as rope after rope of spend hit the skin on his stomach.

“Fuck me.”, Steve groaned as he pounded into the man faster chasing his high. After a few more rough thrusts, Eddie felt him cum inside of him, look up to watch his eyebrows scrunch together and his neck muscles tighten as he did.

Gradually, he pulled his softening cock out of him and reached over to grab some napkins to help clean Eddie up.

“I’m sorry if these are rough. They aren’t like our towels at home.”, Steve sighs as he tosses the paper in the trash. As he begins pulling up his pants, Eddie abruptly tackles him into a hug, squeezing tightly as he lays his cheek on his chest. “Is everything ok?”

The metalhead nods. “Y/N does this to us after and now I kind of see why. I feel…closer to you if that’s even fucking possible.”

Steve softly laughs as he wraps his own arms around him, pressing him tighter to his chest with his palm. “Yeah, baby. I know what you mean.”

***

As they walk into the front door of the house, they are surprised to find it completely silent. Steve quietly searches the downstairs, turning off lights while Eddie locks everything down.

When the enter their bedroom, they grin finding everyone asleep in your bed. Dylan was on his side with you behind him, arm draped over him and Aurora who was snuggled up in her brother’s chest as she sucked her thumb.

Both men quickly changed out of their cigarette, bar smelling clothes and crawled into bed; Steve behind you and Eddie behind his daughter.

***

“Daddy.”, Ro coos as she lightly taps her father’s face with her palm. “Daddy. Wake up.”

“Ro. Aurora.”, you whispered as you tapped her side. “Leave daddy alone and let him sleep, sweetie.”

“Mama, no. Daddy wake up.”

Dylan groaned in his sleep as he rolled over to face you.

“Why? Why do you need daddy to wake up?”

She giggles as she falls to her knees and pushes at his arm. “Daddy, I miss you.”

“Well, that’s adorable.”, Steve sighs.

“Dada help Rara.”

“What do you need help with honey? Waking up daddy?” He lazily lifts his arm towards Eddie, trying to reach him with his hand. “Op, he’s too far. I can’t.”

“Dada!”, she growls and you feel the man smile in your shoulder. Aurora begins pushing at him again until he rolls onto his back and playfully pushes her aside with his hand.

“I think I chose the wrong side to sleep on.”, he grumbles.

“Hun-gee.”, she points to her stomach.

“Aurora Munson- Harrington, you did not just wake him up for that!”, you giggle as she beams at you.

“Whoosh!”, she exclaims as she pretends to throw something in the air.

“She wants dad’s pancakes.”, Dylan yawns as he stretches. “Which actually sounds good.”

“Can you take her downstairs and put on a cartoon for her, weirdo? Give them some time to wake up.”

Your son nods as he slides off the bed, coming around to pick up his sister and bring her downstairs. Both men immediately scoot closer to you, pulling you into their embrace.

“Did you two have fun last night?”

“Mhmm. He took me on a ‘Steve Harrington style date’.”

“Oh, you lucky man.”

“Did you three do anything exciting last night?”, Steve asked.

“We did. Watched a few movies and ordered a pizza. I did go to the store real quick and bought you guys something. Eddie, baby, can you look into your nightstand and grab the thing on top for me?”

He sleepily nodded as he shifted his body to grab what you were asking for. His eyes suddenly snapped open as he realized what he was holding.

“Harrington. STEVE!”, Eddie shouted startling the other man as he sat up making you laugh harder. The metalhead handed him the pregnancy test and he promptly sat up straighter.

“Is this…? Are we…? Is this real? You’re really pregnant?”

Your grin grows as you nod. Steve tackles his arms around you, kissing every part of your face his lips can reach. As soon as you’re free, Eddie does the same much more gently.

“Oh my god. I’m so happy.” Steve lays back down with a big smile on his face as he exhales.

“You see what I mean, babe? Same kind of rush but better.”, the metalhead grins as he winks at the other man whose own smile grows.

“Oh wow.” Both men look at you with confused looks as you smirk. “Ok, I don’t know what you two did last night but that energy is back.”

“Are you drunk? You shouldn’t be drinking if you’re pregnant.”

You giggle as you slap Eddie’s shoulder. “No, no, no. Nothing wrong with it. I kind of missed that…electricity…between the two of you. Maybe you both need a date night more often.”

After kissing them both again, you climb out of bed and head for the bedroom door, pausing as you turn to face them.

“I hope you know you both can be intimate without me. I genuinely don’t mind. I know you both love me just as much as you love each other.” You flash them one final smile before going down the stairs.

“We don’t deserve her.”, Steve sighs pleasantly as he watches you leave.

“Yeah, we do. Charlie didn’t deserve her. Fucking idiot.” Eddie lays back down, scooting closer to the other boy. “I still think about the first time I talked to her on the stairs outside of the apartment. He was making her feel bad about him not coming to see Dylan. When I opened the door to sit outside and smoke, I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to drive to wherever he was and kick his ass.”

Steve slid a little closer to him till the back of his hand was barely touching his.

“I always think about that night at The Hideout when we surprised her while she was on her date and you played that one AC/DC song for her. When she ran out of that bar…I can’t tell you how happy it made me especially after being away from her for so long. She fucking flew into our arms and I never wanted to let her go.”

“We kind of didn’t.”, he chuckled.

Their fingers intertwined as they turned to smile at each other. Eddie leaned over and brought his lips to his, both men laughing as they pulled away when they heard loud noises downstairs.

“Hey! Are you trying to make everyone lose their hearing?! Turn the tv down!”, Steve hollered over dramatically as they both entered the area.

“Told you.”, you sang from the sink as you washed some dishes you knew the metalhead would need.

Eddie wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you to his chest as he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air She told me to come, but I was already there 'Cause the walls start shaking, the Earth was quaking My mind was aching and we were making it

And you shook me all night long Yeah, you shook me all night long.”

You grinned at the memory as he sang softly in your ear. Steve turned off the water before circling his arms around you both, kissing the top of your head. The sound of tiny feet slapping into the kitchen had you laughing in his chest.

“Daddy! Rara and Din hun-gee!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah ya little butt. Come here.” She giggled as she ran into his arms and he lifted her onto the counter. “You’re going to help me?” Aurora nodded her little head as she waited for instructions.

Steve lifted you into his arms and carried you to the living room, placing you gently on the sofa.

“Did you tell them?”

“I did. They’re pretty excited.”

“I am to.”, Dylan smiled. “Did you guys want to play a game while we wait for breakfast? Especially since now she’s distracted.”

“I’m not really good with games.”

“Uh huh. Making excuses already, Steve Harrington. That’s ok. Dylan and I already know you suck.”

He jokingly scowls in your direction as your son hands you both a controller.

“What are we playing?”

#############

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thelastofharrington · 1 year

Text

steve harrington nsfw alphabet

A/N: you know the drill! the title says exactly what it is lol. i had some fun collaboration from my roommate on this one. nothing super new or original here, but just wanted to throw my two cents in because i looooooooove steve harrigton and i loooooooove this format. enjoy!!! MDNI!!!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Steve has trouble admitting it, but he is literally the sweetest there ever was or ever will be. He does it all, the cuddling, the caresses, the hot baths and massages. Especially after an especially rough go at it, he's right there with you the whole time. But even on the vanilla, missionary, slow days, he's right there with you.

He also needs it himself sometimes, especially if he feels like he's been too rough with you. He gets so carried away sometimes and no matter how affirming you are during the act, he can sometimes feel bad after the fact anyway. It's not unusual to give him a reassuring kiss on the forehead (or 30) after an especially rough session.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Well,,,this is an nsfw alphabet,,, so truthfully, his favorite part of his body is dick. He stays humble for sure, but he knows the truth. He has an unmatched power under those too tight jeans. He loves the way he can make you feel with it, he loves watching you suck on it, he loves how still every time you struggle to take all of it.

Honorable mention: he loves his hair.

His favorite body part of yours, however, is definitely your eyes. It would be easy enough to say your tits or your ass (except he's definitely a boob guy), but truly it is your eyes. He loves how expressive they are, how he knows exactly how you're feeling just based on the slightest change in your eyes. He can see love, he can see desire, he can see excitement or fear. He can read all of it just by the looks of your eyes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Fact of the matter is, he loves to cum on your face. It's hedonistic and he knows it, but he just gets something so primal out of it. He loves being able to mark you like that, and taking a mental picture every time he gets the chance. Or a secret Polaroid, when you give him the green light.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Steve is pretty much an open book with his partners, and especially you, but to the outside world he has a few. He comes across as a real vanilla softie to the other people in his life, with the childcare and all, but you are one of the few lucky people to know the truth: he loves to dom. He loves to be in control. He loves to watch you beg and whine. But he's not too crazy, he's definitely a soft dom. Not a single thing is done to you that is not out of his desire to bring you closer together and to be as intimate with you as possible.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is a slut. Or at least he was, until he met you. But not because he loved casual sex - he was just constantly searching for the one. Thank God that's over.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. His favorite body part of yours is your eyes, after all. He lives for the eye contact. But, this is not to say he is boring or vanilla. He's almost never without his finger on your clit, your leg hoisted up on his shoulder, or his hand around your throat.

He's not the craziest in bed, but he is by far the most earnest and loving, and this makes him the best.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on his mood, but generally he's able to laugh with you. If a leg gets stuck somehow or you knock heads, it's never awkward and the mood is never ruined. He doesn't generally have giggly, light hearted sex, unless he's drunk, but he's a totally safe space to be yourself.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He ain't Steve "The Hair" Harrington for nothing. He's a pretty hair guy from head to toe, chest included. The carpets certainly do match the drapes, but generally speaking, he keeps things more under control south of the equator than on the top of his head. He appreciates the look of it full, but is not above a manscaping.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's incredibly intimate. He loves to be there with you in the moment. He doesn't sacrifice kink or play or intensity for romance, he somehow combines them all seamlessly. You never know what you're going to get when you get into the bedroom (or car...or family video storage closet...or bathroom...), but you never have to worry about it being lacking of intimacy.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When it comes to masturbating, he always prefers to have a live stimuli, if you know what I mean. He's very into watching you touch yourself while he strokes his hard cock from the chair at the end of the bed. There's nothing he loves more than watching you pleasure yourself at the thought of him, right in front of his face.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise. He's great at giving it, but he loves to hear it. He's not proud of his ego, but he's not going to stop you from stroking it (literally). Hearing your pretty little voice whine and beg for him makes it for him. Loves hearing how big he is, how good he's making you feel, how good he looks from above you. He loves it all

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere he can get his hands on you, he's not picky. In fact, he loves the thrill of it thinking you might get caught somehow. He loves holding his hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning too loud if he just had to have you in the middle of a crowded party.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The littlest, most innocent touch from you can get him hot and bothered within seconds. A hand on his chest while you laugh, your knee pressed up against his on the couch next to each other, even holding hands can get him feeling some type of way. He just literally can never get enough of you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's not into degradation. This can seem contradictory to his soft dom tendencies, but you will be hard pressed to get him to be actually mean to you. He wouldn't ever hit you (besides the common spanking), would never call you anything degrading. He's all about the praise, the control, the edging, and not so much about the degradation of you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's no better than any other man, he definitely prefers receiving head, but that doesn't mean he's unskilled. Quite the opposite, actually. He's great at it and when he's in, he's all in. He is a proponent for fair trade, so as much as he loves to receive, he also loves to give.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really just depends on the day, the mood, the weather. He is totally versatile. His favorite, however, is nice and slow. Making you beg for it, savoring every last moment. It may be slow and sensual, but it is not any less intense.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Considering his affinity for sneaking off in public, he is very much so accustomed to the art of the quickie. He loves to be able to go slow with you, but when he knows he can't, he's great at efficiency. You'll be hard pressed to recall a time you didn't cum at least once, regardless of how fast it was

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Steve is ready for whatever it is you throw at him. He can tend to stick to what works, so it's really up to you to provide anything new and exciting, but when you do - he's right there with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It actually needs to be studied by scientists how he's able to bounce back so fast. The most he ever has gone in one night was 3, but the most he's ever gone in one day? When he's alone with you uninterrupted, he can literally go all day long. His favorite is getting to regain his strength by making you cum on his tongue and fingers over and over and over again. The question quickly turns from how his stamina is, into how is yours?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Canonically, there wasn't much available in the 80s. But he made do with the massagers at hand. The name of his game is and always will be the level of pleasure you experience. There is nothing he loves more than making you cum, he's not picky with the delivery method. But his favorite is holding the wand to your clit while he fucks you, loves the feeling of you constantly squeezing around him while you reconcile the pleasure between the two.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Steve takes everything you do as a tease, he can never get enough of you, that he's always ready to tease right back. He's competitive and doesn't like to lose, but he likes to make you cum even more, so his teasing doesn't usually last long. Even if it is some fun in the moment, especially if you're somewhere in public where he knows he can get you alone relatively soon after.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn't necessarily loud, be he is talkative. He is always talking low in your ear, whispering praises and commands.

"Just like that, pretty girl."

"You're doing so good for me, taking that cock so good."

"You make me feel so good, baby, keep doing that with your mouth."

Never so loud that anyone besides you could hear, but he's always getting the point across.

As for other noises, he's a big whimperer. Especially when his dick is down your throat.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's a hand holder. He does it out of instinct and reflex, but when he's inside of you his hands automatically find yours. They could be exploring your body, and they definitely do, but their natural landing is your hands. He loves to hold your hands above your head more than anything. It just comes naturally to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

BIG COCK. BIIIIIIIIIIG COCK. HUGE! Like literally so huge I can't even begin to describe it to you. Also, a very hairy and manly chest.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He literally can't get enough of you or the act. We've already discussed how he's ready to go anytime, any place, with just a simple touch from you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It just depends. It's not uncommon for him to curl up behind you immediately after and fall asleep whispering sweet nothings int your ear, but he also loves the intimacy of staying up all night just hanging out and talking to you. Usually it depends on how intense or rough the sex was, how much it took out of him, but he usually can hang for a good while after.

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