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gothlcsan · 4 months

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ESEX ; JEONG YUNHO

PAIRING non!idol yunho + afab!reader

GENRE 18+ SMUT

SYNOPSIS when you convince your boyfriend, yunho to take time away from his game to please you, both of you forgetting to turn off his headset..

WORD COUNT 2790

WARNINGS implied shower sex, dubcon (reader crawls under yunho’s desk without him knowing), chokehold (reader receiving), biting, kissing, mentions of breeding, non detailed aftercare, no protection (use protection yall), let me know if there’s more to tag!

a/n my first fic of the new year! thank you to everyone who has stuck with me throughout the year and engaged with my writing and this account overall. 🥺 id love to start 2024 with the goal of making friendships on here and writing for others so if you could share this and send any requests my way, id absolutely love it so much. happy new year everyone! much love. 🩶

Ever since you had gotten your boyfriend, Yunho, the new Spider-man two game for his playstation, he’s been a bit too occupied. You never minded when Yunho would set away time to play his games, always having an unofficial schedule of doing your own work or hobbies while he games. However, it’s been two days and the game was slowly (but quickly) getting in the way of both your relationship and life itself. He’s barely eaten, slept, and you were more than positive that the only thing he did in the bathroom was to use the toilet meaning; he was in desperate need of a shower.

Knocking on his door, you popped just your head in, having to step inside fully with a sigh seeing his gaming headset on. He was most likely playing with his friends (mentally apologizing to their partners knowing exactly what they’re going through) tapping onto his shoulder to grab his attention. Yunho blatantly ignores you, rolling your eyes as you shook his shoulder saying his name again to rob his attention from the game. This ends up with him pausing the game finally, muttering to his friends that he had to deal with something, the group groaning saying to make it quick. Turning his head he gives an annoyed, “yes?”

“Don’t be mean, Yunho. I was trying to not interrupt and ask if you wanted anything to eat but you couldn’t hear me.”

“I’m not hungry.” He goes to put the headset back on, stopping him by placing it back down onto the desk.

“Yeah see I don’t believe that because you haven’t eaten in a few days and I’m starting to get annoyed.”

Lifting up a handful of empty candy wrappers, you glare at Yunho stating candy wasn’t a nutritional meal, a pout forming on his face as he turns his hand to let the wrappers fall back onto his desk. Luckily, he was smart enough not to argue with logic.

“I’m just asking, come eat, shower, and then if you’d like to go back to gaming, cool. I hate sounding like your mum.”

Yunho blushes, apologizing as he tells everyone he’ll be back later on, saving the game before closing out of it. Standing up he feels the ache of sitting for too long, his empty stomach growling loudly as he sheepishly grabs for your hand to walk to the kitchen with you.

“You smell,” you said with a laugh, all but being dragged into the kitchen where Yunho finished multiple bowls of rice and plates of meat. You were happy to see him finally eat properly, enjoying your warm stew as he grilled more meat for the two of you to share on the portable grill.

Finishing your meal, the two of you slouch into your seats, Yunho thanking you for the meal. You laugh at him, telling him it wasn’t a problem and you were happy that he ate. Yunho excuses himself to go shower, giving you a kiss against your forehead before lightly jogging towards the direction of the bathroom. Usually you’d be bothered by having to make dinner and then clean up solo but hearing the shower finally running after a few days, you’ll happily do the majority of the work.

Placing the last of the dried dishes into the cupboards, you turn around hearing the bathroom door opening, anticipating for Yunho to come back into the kitchen (most likely to show you he showered like a puppy.) As if on cue, Yunho comes out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen in a pair of black shorts and a lavender gray sweater, towel wrapped around his neck to protect his hair from dripping onto it. Giving him a tight hug around his waist, you bury your face into his chest, inhaling his clean scent before looking up at him with a huge grin.

“You smell so good. Thank you.”

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Yunho says as he leans down and plants a kiss against your lips, walking back towards his gaming room.

“I love you!”

“I love you too, dork.” You yell back, going to your shared room to grab clothes to take your own shower.

Several hours later, you hit the realization that Yunho was still gaming.

Swiping your phone screen down, you purse your lips, seeing it was already one in the morning and Yunho was yet in bed with you. Placing your phone down next to you, you grab the collar of the baggy shirt you stole from Yunho, taking an annoyed look down at your lingerie hiding underneath the baggy fabric. It felt like a bit of a waste, becoming slightly upset by it. Deciding you weren’t going to get upset or put beneath a game, you climb out of bed making your way down the small hallway into his gaming room. Of course when you twist the doorknob and push the door open, he was sitting at his desk, headset on as he yelled at his friends who were surely doing the same to him. Letting yourself in, you stand behind him for a while knowing that he was engrossed into the game, oblivious of the fact you were positioned right behind him.

“Yunho.”

Nothing.

You nudge him a bit, “Yunho?”

Nothing. If you were a snake, he’d be bitten eons ago.

Huffing you roll your eyes, gently bending onto the floor until your hands and knees touch the carpet. Quietly, you slowly and carefully crawl against the soft carpet to make your way under the desk from the side, thanking Yunho in your head for having pristine cable management. Not wanting to ponder on the level of embarrassment you would’ve had to face if you got stuck or unplugged a cord. He still hadn’t acknowledged your existence, shrugging as you situated yourself to be directly in front of his lap, taking a deep breath before reaching for his shorts. His knee jerks, knocking his knee against the underside of the desk as he feels a tug on the band of the shorts, surprised. Yunho leans back and looks down, flinching clearly spooked when he sees you tucked under him.

“When did you get there?” He asked, confused.

“No, not you, my girlfriend. Shut up.” Yunho hollers into the headset, covering his microphone with his hand.

“You once again didn’t answer me and haven’t even got to see me in my pretty new lingerie.” You feigned a pout, yanking his shorts down.

“Babe-,” He’s cut off by you wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, glaring at him.

“It’s the least you can do, Yunho. If you want to play your game so badly, do so, but I'm using you.” You spat, watching his eyes widen and roll back as you moved your fingers up the shaft, to compare size, the tips of your fingers nowhere near close to passing the tip. He lets out a breathy sigh flinching as he mumbles a suspiciously quick “nothing” into his headset, his head falling back as you leave multiple wet opened mouth kisses up the shaft stopping around the tip.

“Is that my shirt?”

You grin widely giggling as you give him a nod.

“Mhm, I know how hard you get from seeing me in your clothes.”

Yunho must’ve forgotten his headset audio was on, groaning out a low, “fuck,” as he moved to kick off his shorts. His dick laid heavy against his abdomen and stomach, smirking pleased at his expression. Someone was desperate. Placing your hand back around him, you shift your weight so you can easily lean forward, wrapping your lips around one of his balls. Taking it into your mouth and giving it a few suctions at different pressures, Yunho groans loudly, this time a hand reaching down to lock your head into place. The twinge of pain on your scalp makes you wet in between your legs, clenching around nothing as you hum contentedly. Dropping him from your mouth with a wet pop, you fight his grip on you long enough to look at him and smile, hoping to get exactly what you want.

“Take it off.”

Removing his grip from you, he pushes back just far enough from the desk to give you space to maneuver the shirt off yourself, exposing the revealing lingerie hidden underneath. Yunho breathes deeply through his nose, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his deep fixation on you, Yunho clearly content with your choice. The black sheer lace complimented your skin, his long slender fingers reaching down to hook underneath the shoulder strap, moving alongside it until he reached the back of it - - unhooking the bra to fall onto your lap in one smooth movement. Your boobs fall from the bra, blushing as he helps you to move onto his lap, not allowing you a second to process before his large mouth is wrapped around one of your nipples.

“Yunho.” You enthusiastically moan into his ear, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck allowing your fingers to intertwine with his hair. His tongue swipes across the erected bud as he uses his hand to squeeze your boob, pushing more than just the nipple into his ravenous mouth. Your mind becomes clouded as the hand around your boob slips down your stomach until it passes the band of your thong. Long, slender fingers moving suggestively up and then back down your slit before suddenly delving two into your pussy. Clenching around the digits, you whine into Yunho’s neck who hushes you down by praising you, moving just the tips of his fingers not yet thrusting.

“Want, more,” You slur looking down at his hand, giving him an inviting kiss against his jaw that immediately turned into a soft gasp from the sudden thrust of his fingers. They felt incredibly deep already, your head leaning back to rest on his armchair, moans flooding the room. Erotically wet squelching from his fingers pushing into you makes you blush profusely, begging him to quench the fiery desire for him. Fortunately due to the fact you two haven’t had sex in the days he’s spent gaming, Yunho was more than eager to do as you wished.

“Let’s take these off, ok?”

Yanking the thong off your body and throwing thoughtlessly somewhere on to the floor, Yunho helps you up so you're comfortably positioned bent over his desk. He fixes your legs open for easier access, kissing up from the shoulder blades to the crook of your neck, giving a playful bite before refocusing his attention. Wrapping a hand around the backside of your knee, Yunho lifts your leg up, his dick sinking into you with little to no resistance. Your eyes roll up in satisfaction, wrapping your fingers around the edge of his desk to hold yourself somewhat into place, sweet moans already starting to flow past your lips. With each thrust another round of erotic noises are ripped out of you, your thoughts cloudy as you begged Yunho to never stop. He wraps his free arm around your throat, bringing you up to his chest in a chokehold. The grip was tight but gentle enough not to bring you any harm, the additional pain making you clench around him hard.

“Please, please, please,” you begged.

“Please what, hm?”

Your face burns up suddenly embarrassed giving him nothing but breathy whines that held no context.

“I asked you a question, please what?” Yunho reiterated, his grip tightening around both the backside of your knee and around your throat.

“Please breed me, I miss you.”

The entirety of your body inflamed in an instant blush, Yunho smirking as he drops his chokehold on you. You gasped for air, groaning between pursed lips as you felt Yunho’s large hands wrapped around your hips. His thrusts became sloppy but enough to hit all the right places, picking up in pace making the skin around your ass and thighs brighten to a pink. Feeling him twitched whilst inside you made your head spin in circles, it was more than evident both of you were close to your orgasms, taking in large breaths continuously begging Yunho to cum in you. Yunho’s breath warmly fanning your ear as he spoke and the weight of him being pressed against you to do so as he didn’t once slow down his thrusts into you, he bites and tugs at your earlobe before letting go.

“Should I fill you up?”

“Please, Yunho, please-“

“You’d look so cute filled by me.” Yunho cut you off, not having to see him to hear the smirk in his voice.

“Want you, please, please?”

Your eyes hooded over as he laughed over your desperation, fucking into you at a vigorous pace until his legs began to convulse and tremble.

“Fuck,” is the last word you pick up before your head fuzzes completely over, spilling around Yunho’s dick. Quiet moans are pushed out of you as Yunho reaches his climax, warmth filling you up. He slowly begins to lessen his pace, pulling back until he is almost completely out of you before pushing himself back into you balls deep. He mumbles about feeling warm but you’re unable to coherently grasp what he was saying, whining as he pulls out, clenching around nothing already missing him. You can feel your shared arousal drip down your thighs, whining for a kiss, smiling as Yunho felt your head into place to give you a loving kiss. Not caring about the sweat or anything else for that matter, you climb on top of his desk, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

The two of you spend a few minutes kissing as a way to “catch your breath,” giggling as Yunho pulls away asking how you felt. Pondering on the question with a hum, you watch his face slowly begin to switch to worry.

“I’m teasing! It felt so good, I missed you badly.” You reassured him, giving him another reassuring kiss on the lips.

Yunho begins to say something but freezes, his eyes wide in panic as he rips off his headset, leaning over you as he exited out of his game and clicked on something else you didn’t recognize. Asking him what was wrong his body simoustanly flushes a deep red, his gaze bouncing between you and the monitor.

“The game wasn’t off,” he pauses, “or the chat.”

You raise an eyebrow. “The chat?”

Yunho groans, begging you to not get mad at him, so red you were scared he’d combust into flames. Asking him again what he was talking about, his sudden concern starting to freak you out.

“The chat, as in my friends in discord, who was on call with me when you came in, heard us.. you know.”

It was your turn to turn red. You hadn’t thought about checking on that before continuing on since the two of you both were equally in the moment, hiding behind your hands in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, Yu, hopefully they didn’t listen.”

“What if they did?”

You weren’t sure why that question made your cheeks flare up the way it had, in between your legs warming and growing wet with curiosity. What if they had? Would they have stayed on and listened? Did they take their headphones off and acted as if they heard nothing? Lastly, why did the idea of someone catching you two suddenly turning you on?

Those “what ifs” ran through your mind at such a speed that made you nauseous, Yunho reassuring you it was nothing, pressing gentle kisses across your jaw and up to your lips. You decided to let it fade from your mind not wanting to overthink something so silly, allowing Yunho to pick you up off his desk bridal style heading out of the bedroom and making his way down the hallway towards the bathroom to shower together.

Now, you and Yunho had forgotten all about the mishap by the time the two of you had round two and cleaned up in the shower. However, for poor Mingi who was slumped back in his gaming chair with his arm covering his face, he was living through the shame of listening to his best friend and his girlfriend have sex. Which isn’t even the worst part of the entire situation, the brute of his embarrassment lied in the fact he had shamelessly masturbated to them. This quickly became a secret he’d have to carry to his grave with him. Groaning as he cleaned himself up, turning off his pc, and never bringing the situation up to anyone, thankful as you two never brought it up either, deciding it was best for everyone if no one acted like it happened.

#gothlcsan #smut #kpop smut #fiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho smut #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #dom yunho #dom ateez

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mysteriouswolf · 2 months

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I'm going to start this off with saying it hurts. It fucking hurts. It hurts so, so much, and there's parts of me that still desperately want to look for a way out, to make him not the bad guy, but there isn't one.

Wilbur Soot is a fucking asshole. A piece of absolute trash, and it hurts. Because I've looked up to him for so many years now. He's been such an inspiration and comfort in my life, from dealing with issues I have myself, and giving me all the more reason to stay here. And now he's turned out to be like this. To anyone who's been following what I reblog about him, it's conflicting, because my thoughts seem to change by the minute. But I'm hoping in saying this I can clear my head and make a definite decision.

I will never be supporting Wilbur ever again. No matter how much better he gets, I don't care. What he did was unexcusable, and if you think otherwise, you can fuck off of my blog. His "apology" wasn't an apology, and for the most part all he did was defend himself. The responses from other content creators have pushed me to agree that yes, fuck Wilbur. He's an ass. I think I've stated this a couple times.

What he did to them, especially Niki and Tommy was inexcusable as well from what we know, and since Tommy is going on tour in about a week (if he's still going/up to it) PLEASE no one harass him with questions, or how he feels. Please, just leave him alone. I'm sure it's a lot to process for him too- even more than us.

I've seen some posts saying how we should be angry at other content creators for not speaking out sooner, but some of them have hinted at it/tried. And others haven't known enough, or didn't want to start causing something against him. The same reason Shelby didn't want to say his name. Maybe they couldn't. Please leave them alone.

The last thing I would like to say, is maybe controversial. If you disagree with me, I don't care, this is purely my opinion.

You can still enjoy his character. Your stories, your artwork, all that you've done with it. Don't feel bad about keeping it up, because that's yours now. You've worked so hard on it, and cared for that character so much that it's become far more yours than his. In regards to his music, I know his songs have provided a lot of us with comfort, including me. It's going to be really hard for me to stop listening to something I loved, but I'm going to make the effort- especially with his solo albums. Also, please don't harass the other members of Lovejoy. From what we know, they're lovely people, and if you're going to stop listening to them, great, do that, but don't harass them. Please. And if you do choose to listen to them, there's ways you can listen to music without supporting him- in my opinion covers are the best way to do that, but that one is up to you.

To wrap this up, I'd just like to say...please don't send death threats, or threats in general to anyone involved in this situation- including Wilbur. Leave them alone. Please.

This is subject to change if we get more information, but for now and the foreseeable future, this is my stance. I wish everyone hugs and comfort. This sucks. I'm sorry.

#wilbur situation #wilbur #wilbur soot #cc!tommy #tw: abuse #tommyinnit

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nrdmssgs · 11 months

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Little things, they do (Alex, Soap, König) (headcannons)

Masterlist

Part 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz) here

Ok, guys, first of all, thank you all for giving this little sketch THAT much love. Honestly, I'mm shocked. I'm blaming mister Riley here, but boy, thank you so-so-so much for 100 beautiful followers. I`ve actually had something for this milestone, but I was sure, it would be hit somewhere in the end of the summer. Hope, you like it!

Little things, they do, that get you every time. Silly, warm, heart-melting, wholesome things.

Alex Keller

Almost unconsciously lowers his head to stay on your eye-level whenever you two are sitting at a table and chatting.

If you are cooking and even insisting on doing it solo (maybe it's just your thing, maybe you like to have more room in the kitchen), he is never leaving you. He will just sit there and keep you company, or tell you some stories, or maybe find a youtube video for you both to listen to, while you're doing your magic.

Talking about your cooking, he never turns down anything, you've made. Never. “Alex, don't take that bun, I burnt it!” Eats it anyway, because it's your effort that counts and makes anything you cook so special to him.

If you are dating, and he needs to go early in the morning, he covers your eyes with the corner of his blanket (very carefully so as not to wake you up!). That way, he can turn on the light and collect his clothes without waking you up.

Def pulls you closer in his sleep. Buries his face in your hair, mumbles some sweet nonsense, places a soft kiss on the top of your head. (by gods I need more headcanons on this man sleeping)

Sometimes just stops whatever he is doing to say “I love you” and give you a kiss. The fridge is still open, his sweater is halfway off him, his hands still wet and water runs on uncleaned dishes? Doesn't matter, the kiss is what important to him.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Once Price saw how you two interact and commented it like “Looks like our Tweedledum finally found his Tweedledee…” And while other pairs could get offended, you two weren't bothered at all (you're two chaotic crows, nothing can stop you!). In fact, from that moment anything he buys or makes for you, comes with a small handwritten note, saying, “to: my Dee. from: your Dum.”

Once he cooked an absolutely amazing pie. You were practicaly moaning, while savouring it and he just sat there all bright with pride. In a few years you saw the same kind of pie in a menu in the pub, where you were supposed to meet Johnny and others from the 141. Once you pointed it out to Johnny, others flinched and looked at each other. In response to your uncomprehending look, one of them admits that Soap was so worried that you would not like his cooking that he practiced at the base for several weeks. Because of it, their diet consisted only of Johnnys` pies for these weeks.

Has no concept of “too girly stuff”. Will gladly go shopping with you, paint your nails, help you dye your hair at home, if you feel like it. Will sneak your eye patches, because they smell so nice, and he feels so fresh after using them!

During his deployments, sends you tons of the most random photos just to calm you down and cheer you up (because every time you are too scared, this could be his last mission). “Ok, bonnie, this time I present you the collection of random rocks, I've met on work.” For the next week, you keep getting… exactly that. Photos of rocks with short comments like “Here's wee one.”

You don't know why the last photo he sent you that week was a photo of some guy in a creepy mask. You also don't have a single idea, why Johnny then goes radio silent for two days and why he has a brand-new phone, when he's back.

König

You have a stiff back? He will gladly take you by the hands and lift you up so that your spine is extended. "König! No, no, wait, don't, OH!... Oh… Sweet mother of jesus, I actually feel better..."

Even if you are just friends, and you are staying over at his place - he presents you with a shampoo, shower gel, conditioner and body lotion of EXACTLY the same brands as you're using at home. He just notes these small things and wants you to feel relaxed and taken care of when you're around him.

You can call him anytime on any occasion and if his phone is on, he will answer in SECONDS. You had a bad dream, and it's 4 am, and he lives on the other end of the town? In another town even? No problems, he answers almost immediately and comes to you as soon as he can. Even if It's just to hold you for 15-20 minutes, while you slowly drift to sleep, and then to drive back to his place for another good hour.

Thanks you for everything, and not only verbally! Writes small notes and leaves them on your bag or just straight gives them to you. He doesn't take anything for granted. Every your intention is a gift for him.

And that goes not only for the time, when you two have just met each other. You are his wife or husband since 10 years, you already have 2-3 beautiful kids? He still writes you notes, thanking you for the most incredible goodnight kiss, you gave him yesterday (every your goodnight kiss is the most incredible to him).

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fruitmins · 1 year

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Purple Car | jungkook

➭ summary: in which jungkook is a successful solo idol and your his long time girlfriend that he hasn’t seen in almost two months. again. it’s starting to feel like your more like distant friends more than lovers so when you unexpectedly disappear, jungkook goes the distance to try to find you.

➭genre: solo idol jk x reader, drabble

➭warnings: none really. a little angsty and depressing. there’s a couple bad words

➭note: first post🥳 | heard a snippet of the acoustic version of ‘car outside’ and this was the outcome sooo feedback would be appreciated.

Jungkook’s eyes begin to strain as he stared at the blue screen with wide and glossy eyes. He didn’t care how badly he was damaging his eyes. It didn’t even cross his mind for a second. He could barely process the information that was on the screen. But still, he stared at it in disbelief. How could he care about himself when the most important person he cared about was missing?

‘nearest train station’

‘train tickets to Daegu’

According to your laptop that was the last thing you had googled. The last time you had used it being almost an hour ago.

His heavy heart sank. Would the train be gone by now?

No. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that you actually left him. You two had always talked about going to Daegu together. Going out to hotels and spending the days happily touring together.

Jungkook’s throat ran dry as he thought about the word touring. When was the last time he actually spent quality time with you? He had just came back from a month tour, promoting his new solo album. He had spent weeks prior getting ready for it and his schedule became full in an instant.

He felt bad and had always planned on making up for lost time as soon as he was done. He knew that after his company would leave him alone for once and he was set on making you his top priority after.

He always made sure to call you at least once a day when on tour, or send little gifts and things to the house in an attempt to cheer you up.

Jungkook glanced around the room, some of his latest gifts not even out of the box. At first, he was constant with the calls and gifts. They would be sweet and meaningful. But as the tour continued the more tired he got. His calls were short and late at night and his gifts became small and less frequent.

His stomach swelled with guilt at the thought. How could he do this to you? Abandon you, make promises, and give you false hope. He remembered the words he said to you to cheer you up.

‘It’ll be over soon before you know it.’

‘When I get back we’ll have the best nights of our lives.’

‘I promise to call you more babe.’

‘I promise I’m fine babe, everything will go back to normal when I’m done.’

‘Stop fucking freaking out so much.’

Most of the time, his mind was clouded by exhaustion and pressure he forgot about the things he said. It felt like all the nights before he slept was like a drunken blur. All he could remember was being on stage and wanting to do good for his fans.

Well now he remembered. All the dry talks between you two. All of the half hearted things he said while slurring, barely awake. Sometimes almost yelling at you whenever you spoke to loud or to much. It was clear as time went he became more moody and distant.

He felt sick.

On the king sized bed, next to the earlier gifts laid your phone. No wonder you hadn’t been answering your phone. Did you really go the extra mile to leave everything at home?

No, he thought again. This must mean your in the house. Maybe the shower, or you went for a walk. Why would you leave your phone?

He tapped on the screen as it lit up. His handful of text showed on the screen. Your phone was almost dead and seemed completely untouched.

12:02AM

Even though he knew you never took showers this late, he went to the master bathroom to take a peek. Nothing. There was limited places you could be hiding, and he had already checked the place once he realized you weren’t home when he first arrived. You weren’t ANYWHERE. Not even in the guest bedroom.

Now he was really starting to panic as realization set in. He had screwed up. He had played with your emotions. He had left you one to many times. Now you were leaving him.

Now he was feeling everything that you had been for the past month and a half, and every other time a big event happened. He felt abandoned, sad, ditched and empty. How the fuck did he not realize what he was doing? How did he not realize how you were feeling? Why didn’t you talk to him? Did you? Not like he could really remember if you had.

‘nearest train station’

He clicked on your past search to see the exact responds. Shit. It wasn’t that far from the house. Only fifteen minutes to be exact. And you had been ghosting him for an hour.

He sprung into action at the realization. He would just had to hope that the train didn’t leave yet. To just hope that you went to early or that you had changed your mind.

He jumps into his car. Not caring that he wasn’t even supposed to be out this late, especially not in his recognizable purple car. Something even his fans knew was his prized possession since he and your favorite color was purple. In his purple car he felt like any other normal person. Especially when you were in the car with him. Now if just felt empty.

He practically sped to the train station (he actually did go over the speed limit a little), immediately parking his car in a random lot before booking it inside the large building.

Inside, he is immediately hit by a sense of bustling activity and the sound of people rushing to catch their trains as his eyes try to scan to look for you. Even though it’s early in the morning, there’s still a bunch of people.

Even when it’s a little dark inside the station since the sun isn’t up yet, he can spot a variety of posters and signs, displaying information about train schedules, destinations, and services available at the station.

He runs to the board, looking for the word Daegu and the color from his face drains when he finds it. The last train to Daegu had left at 11pm. Almost an hour ago. And what’s even worse is that he couldn’t even get a ticket till six.

He almost growled at the board out of anger. What he wasn’t going to do was sit around for five hours while you would be at a foreign place with no phone and nothing to defend yourself with. Especially since you were arriving at such a late time. He was not going to sit around when he had a perfectly good private jet.

Jungkook didn’t care who he woke up. He was the most successful man under his company and getting even more popular around the world. If he wanted a private jet ready at twelve o clock, he was going to get it.

Jungkook would be arriving to Daegu a big whopping thirty minutes before you, and it would take him a decent amount of time to get to the train station you would be arriving it. In short, Jungkook was seriously cutting it short.

If he was even a second to late, you’d disappear into the sea of people and his chances of finding you would decrease drastically by the minute.

Despite being exhausted and sleep deprived, Jungkook couldn’t sleep on the jet. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. All he could do is refrain himself from tearing out his own hair by repeating calling your number, listening to your voice mail for comfort since he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Once his phone had died, all he had was his thoughts. The depressing feeling of sorrow and loss took over him as he cried his eyes out. He missed you and he hated that he drew you away. He hate that he hurt you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you. He wanted to marry you for God’s sake. He felt like his chest was crashing the more he was away from you.

Finally, after he arrived he had a car waiting for him to take him to the train station. He had requested the same purple car he had left back at home, it didn’t feel right picking you up in an all black shaded windowed limo. Whenever you both went somewhere you took that car. You two had spent camping trips and dinner dates in that car. Sure it was newer and wasn’t his car but it was close enough.

He drove himself to the train station and ran inside the building as fast as he could. His face was hidden with a hat and mask as he tried his best to blend in with the people while still desperately trying to reach the platforms.

When he did, he saw one train already letting off a load of people. Jungkook immediately grew terrified. Did you already get off? Did he already lose you? A million thoughts ran through his head as his eyes started to water again.

He didn’t stop walking till he was at the front of the platform, watching as the people who got off with smiles reunited with family members or friends.

Jungkook watched the train empty, looking through the windows in hopes of getting a glimpse of you still inside. But it was mostly empty. You must of been one of the first people to get off. You must of been in a rush to get away from him. To start over. To leave him like he had done you.

Jungkook’s heavy head dropped, looking straight at the ground with closed eyes as tears started to fall. Grieving over the loss of his soulmate. And he could only blame himself.

He wished he could turn back time and do things differently, but he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move forward, even though he had no idea how to do that without his wife by his side. But he would always missing you piece of his life..

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s body immediately froze at his name. The voice was behind him and spoke with a shaky voice but he was positive it sounded just like you. Was his mind fucking with him? Did he actually hear your voice? For the first time in a month? Were you still here? Did he still have a chance?

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned around, a little cautious. His breathing stopped when he met your red eyes. It was you. Only a couple steps away from him. You looked different. More skinny, you had on older clothes. Not the ones he bought you. And he could tell by your tear stained cheek and puffy eyes that you had been crying for a while. But you still looked beautiful. He missed your eyes, your touch, your smell..

Without giving it a second thought, he jumped towards you. His arms immediately wrapped around you as he gave you a tight hug and held you. His tears were spilling more violently as he sobbed into you. Relief rushed through him as he held you. You didn’t push him away, but you didn’t exactly hug him either. But he didn’t care. As long as he got to hug you. He was scared of letting you go. He didn’t want you to leave, and he didn’t want to leave either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He managed to choke out and soon enough you began to cry with him, becoming emotional in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He repeated, the first genuine words he said to you in a while. Your familiar soothing smell with the warmth of your small figure stopped him from having a full out panic attack.

“Jungkook I—“ you started to speak but he quickly shook his head, pulling away to analyze your face. He looked into your eyes with such relief and care but sadness still filled his expression. He was still scared you wouldn’t forgive him. That he had still lost you.

“I’m terrible Y/N. I didn’t realize just how much I let my job take over my life. Our life. I missed you Y/N I really did. I love you. I love you more than myself. I don’t wanna leave you anymore.” He said quickly pulling you back into a tight embrace, and this time he almost melted when your arms wrapped around him. He wanted to say so much more but he couldn’t form the words. It was paining him just seeing you cry.

“Please, give me a second chance to fix things. I’m not going anywhere without you Y/N.” He said, his desperate words spoken in a firm voice. He wanted to let you know just how serious he was about his words.

“Don’t promise anything..” you mumbled. The first proper-ish sentence you’ve said the whole time. He missed your voice, it wasn’t the same over the phone but your words stung. Did you not trust him? Did you think he would abandon you? Cause if so he’d get on his knees and propose to you right there.

“I just don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave you.” He sobbed into your shoulder honestly. Jungkook had always been a little shy with crying, even in front of you. But he was willing to expose himself to you. To let you know how he really felt.

“I-I won’t. Leave..” You choked out in a low voice and Jungkook was immediately over the moon. All his worries and fears washed away at your words. “I love you.” You spoke, this time in a stronger but gentle voice as his grip loosened a little around you.

He responded by pulling down his mask and kissing you with starving lips. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body against his. You kissed him back, melting in his touch as the world around you disappeared. You both had missed each others touch and you practically cried of happiness at the familiar warmth of his lips on yours.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, Jungkook leaned his forehead so it was touching yours. He closed his eyes and took everything in as he continued to hold your waist. Never would he be leaving you again. Never.

— A YEAR LATER —

“You ready for the tour baby?” Jungkook asked you in a gentle and soothing voice when he slithered behind you, wrapping his arms around you and putting his head on your shoulder. He gave you a kiss on your neck as he watched you pack your large suitcase.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to visit all the different places.” You said with a wide smile as you leaned into his touch. When Jungkook cleared his voice you giggled. “And watch you preform of course.” A satisfied smirk showed on his lips at your response.

“Well I’m glad your happy.” He replied with a warm smile, his voice filled with joy and happiness.

Because what you didn’t know was that on the last day of the tour in Daegu, Jungkook was going to propose to you after singing Still With You.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x female reader #jungkok #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #bts x army #bts idol au #bts ot7 #bts reactions

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solarmorrigan · 3 months

Text

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 7

[Warning for references to sexual situations towards the end, but there is nothing explicit]

“So now do I get to know where we’re going?”

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ are you having trouble grasping?”

“The part where we’re driving around in the suburbs in your van on a Saturday night,” Steve shoots a pointed look at Eddie, not without amusement. “I feel like we’re going to end up at some high school party drinking rocket fuel out of Solo cups while you deal out of one of the back bedrooms.”

“Shit, yeah, let’s relive those glory days,” Eddie says drily, then smacks the steering wheel with one palm in emphasis. “No! I am taking you somewhere much better. And we’re almost there, so stop trying to interrogate me. We both know I crack like an egg under pressure.”

Steve holds both his hands up in front of him, brows raised, the very picture of innocence, as though he hasn’t been trying to pump Eddie for information since he picked him up at his house some fifteen minutes ago.

And Eddie really does want it to be a surprise – he thinks he did pretty well, planning this whole thing out. The effort, at first, had simply been placed on coming up with something he’d thought Steve would like—something surprising and romantic and thoughtful—but the further he’d gotten into it, the more he’d found himself enjoying it, too. He’s never actually been on a proper date, much less planned one, and finding all the little touches that would make this one perfect has actually been fun. Eddie’s looking forward to it.

He only hopes his work will pay off.

He navigates the van around one more turn, past a few more unremarkable cookie cutter houses, and pulls to a stop in front of the barrier rail of a dead-end street, entirely ignoring the raised-eyebrow look of intense curiosity that Steve is sending his way.

The thing about Midwestern suburbia is that it sprawls. There are rambling neighborhoods upon rambling neighborhoods, all with kitschy names like “Maple Ridge” and “Eagle Pointe,” and the city planners seem to forget half of what they’ve built as soon as it’s up. Apart from making things confusing to navigate (Oakview Street runs through three different residential areas, for instance, stopping and picking up again at different points throughout town), it’s created isolated pockets of parks and playgrounds, set aside behind back streets and largely unknown to anyone more than a block away – unless they happen to be restless explorers, like Eddie.

“So… are we gonna hang out here tonight?” Steve asks, glancing around at the neighborhood falling into the darkness of the rapidly encroaching dusk.

“Yes, Steve, we’re gonna have a picnic in my van on the back end of Washington Drive,” Eddie drawls.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me where we were going.” Steve shrugs, smirking over at Eddie. “I figured maybe you were embarrassed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes his door open. “C’mon, Harrington, we’re almost there.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Steve says, though he obediently gets out of the van and rounds to the back, where Eddie is digging for his supplies.

“Well, now it’s an even smaller almost,” Eddie says.

He pulls his backpack from the back of the van, followed by an insulated bag he’d bummed off of Oliver and the tiny cooler that Wayne takes with him when he goes fishing, draping it all over himself like an awkward sort of packmule and waving Steve off when he tries—twice—to reach for one of the bags to help.

“Okay, fine,” Steve finally says, shaking his head. “Lead the way, Mr. Park Ranger.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sniffs, gesturing for Steve to follow him off the street and onto a narrow dirt path that cuts through the thin strip of woods in front of them.

It’s barely a minute’s walk before the path spits them out into a tiny clearing housing a minuscule park. Eddie disregards the neglected jungle gym and the decrepit grill and zeroes in on the reason he’d brought them out here: the gazebo.

“So I’m gonna need just a little more faith from you,” he tells Steve, “and you need to turn around for about a minute.”

The expression on Steve’s face is a familiar one, recognizable even in the fading light as “deciding whether or not to make the bitchy comment,” but finally he simply shrugs and turns around.

“Sure, why not,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie shakes his head, biting down on a smile as he bounds up the two steps into the little gazebo and sets his load down. The thing is in surprisingly good condition, all told; the structure is solid, the picnic table inside is relatively clean, and there is a minimal number of dicks and swearwords graffitied around the inside (barely noticeable in the dark, even!). Glancing back to make sure Steve is still facing away, Eddie makes quick work of unpacking his bags.

The candles come out first, a whole slew of the inexpensive white ones that come in jars, picked up from the dollar store, and he dots them around the gazebo railings and across the picnic table, lighting them with the cigarette lighter from his pocket until the space is warm and glowing. The insulated bag is next, providing two foil-wrapped plates of spaghetti that is—thank you, Oliver—still warm. Last is the cooler, which provides two beers. He’s just pulling napkins and forks from his backpack when he hears Steve calling out from where he’s left him standing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s been more than a minute.”

“You’re so impatient,” Eddie shoots back, taking the steps at a leap and jogging back across the grass to Steve. “But I’m done, anyway, so you can turn around.”

Steve does so, his focus going first to Eddie, before his attention is caught by the glow of the gazebo behind him. Eddie can see his eyes go wide in the candlelight, startled first, and then pleased, accompanied by a slow-growing smile.

“Eddie, this is…” he leaves off with a tiny laugh, like he doesn’t quite have a word for it, but whatever he thinks it is, it’s good.

Eddie shrugs. “I know we can’t exactly go out to a restaurant and have a real date, but I promised you candlelight,” he says. “I’m afraid the violinist was booked, though.”

Shaking his head, Steve lets out another little laugh, and then takes a step towards the gazebo and glances back at Eddie.

“C’mon, yeah, let’s eat. Can’t have everything getting cold!” Eddie gestures Steve up the steps and waves his arm grandly towards one of the plates. “I’d pull your chair out for you, but it appears to be attached to the table.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Steve says, swinging one leg over the bench, then the other, and settling himself down. He waits for Eddie to follow suit before picking up his fork and then – just staring down at his plate for a moment. “Is this…” he starts uncertainly.

“It’s the spaghetti sauce you showed me how to make,” Eddie fills in. “Since you were convinced I’d perish trying to subsist on frozen pizza if you weren’t there to force meals on me.”

Eddie hadn’t done much cooking prior to befriending Steve; he could boil water and scramble an egg, but his ability and interest had mostly ended there. Then Steve had come along, earnestly (and transparently) bringing “leftovers” to the trailer to share with Eddie and Wayne, before he progressively took over their kitchen. Absolutely no one had had any complaints about this arrangement, though Steve had insisted on teaching Eddie how to make a few basic staples for himself – among which had been spaghetti sauce.

For a long moment, Steve says nothing, continuing to stare at his plate, brows furrowed.

“…and I haven’t,” Eddie says, trying to break the silence. “Perished, that is. In your absence. Obviously. Not that– not that I think you were really worrying about that, I just mean I’ve been making some of the stuff you showed me. Is all.”

“I’m just… kind of surprised you remembered, I guess,” Steve says, glancing up at Eddie, expression unreadable in the flickering light around them. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually interested or if you were just humoring me, when I showed you all that stuff.”

“I still have all the recipes you have me,” Eddie says – and he does: a small stack of notecards that Steve had stolen from Robin and covered in his surprisingly neat handwriting, detailing things like when to add butter to this and how much garlic to add to that, which has a permanent home in a drawer in Eddie’s kitchen.

“Oh,” Steve says, and nothing more.

“But don’t leave me in suspense, tell me how I did,” Eddie insists, attempting to push past the awkwardness he’d brought upon them while simultaneously shoving his mouth full of pasta in order to keep from pulling out any new touchy topics.

Steve twirls up a forkful of spaghetti and brings it to his mouth, spending a long moment chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and swallows. “I mean, I’ve had better,” he says with a shrug, and Eddie experiences a moment of genuine distress before he spots the smirk tugging at Steve’s lips.

Eddie kicks at him under the table and Steve laughs, and Eddie can’t help but join him.

“Don’t be shy, baby, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie drawls, and Steve snickers again.

“Trust me, I will,” he says. But then: “It’s good, Eddie. You did good.”

Knocked off balance by the casual sincerity, Eddie goes quiet, and they eat for a few minutes in silence.

“So,” Eddie finally says, “I’m sure this is a great shock to you, but I’ve never actually done this before.”

Steve glances up at him. “Eaten spaghetti in a gazebo?” he asks, so dry that even Eddie’s not quite sure if he’s being sarcastic.

“The dating thing,” Eddie clarifies, instead of trying to figure it out. “What exactly are you supposed to do on a first date?”

Something about Steve’s expression goes off again – that same, weird, false look he’d had the other day that Eddie hadn’t been able to ferret out the source of. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Steve shrugs, taking a quick pull from his beer.

“I guess it’s usually the getting-to-know-you stuff. Favorite movie, what kind of music you listen to, hobbies – that sort of thing,” he says.

“Huh.” Eddie screws his mouth to the side, thinking it over. “Seems… kinda boring. But, if you insist!” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands and batting his eyelashes at Steve. “So, tell me about yourself, handsome.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that’s what you have to do. I’m pretty sure dates are just supposed to be… you know, being with someone you like. Putting aside time just to do something with them,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it is, you have a good time because you’re doing it together.”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, his humor fading beneath a bright flare of fondness. “That– that sounds better, yeah.”

“I think so, too,” Steve says, smiling across the table at Eddie.

“Well, then.” Eddie takes a chance and slowly slides his hand forwards until it’s resting over Steve’s on top of the table, inwardly doing a little dance when Steve remains relaxed beneath his touch. “Under those parameters, do you think we’re having a successful first date?”

And that’s when Steve pulls back, drawing his hand from beneath Eddie’s and averting his gaze, shrugging shoulders that have gone tense. “Sure, yeah.” He glances back up and offers a smile that’s trying very hard to be sincere but is underscored by something Eddie still can’t put his finger on. “Seriously, this is really nice, Eddie.”

“What am I saying?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Steve’s brows draw together in confusion.

“I keep saying something that’s upsetting you and I can’t– like, I can’t figure out what it is,” Eddie admits. “But I don’t want to keep doing it.”

“I’m not upset,” Steve says, bristling slightly under the skeptical look Eddie sends him. “I’m not. I’m– it’s stupid, alright? I’m fine.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says, and Steve scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Well then tell me.”

Frowning, Steve looks back down at his plate, pushing the last few strands of spaghetti around with his fork. “It’s – seriously, it’s dumb. Like, I know that, alright? It’s just that you keep calling this our first date and I guess… I thought of something else as our first date. That’s all.”

Oh, fuck.

Eddie is an idiot. Fuck.

Of course Steve thinks of something else as their first date. He’d thought they were dating, so of course he’d thought of their outings as dates. Dinners, the movies, aimless walks around town – time set aside to be with someone you like, to just do something together. And here Eddie is again, shoving how little he’d thought of those times in Steve’s face.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I told you, I know it’s ridiculous–”

“It’s not.”

“–and I don’t have to get all hung up over it. It wasn’t even a date if we didn’t both think of it that way, right? So we can just look at this as– like, take two.”

Eddie purses his lips. “Even if we didn’t both think of it as a date, it was important to you.”

Steve shrugs and then, steady and deliberate, puts his hand over Eddie’s, curling his fingers around Eddie’s palm. “Well, tonight can be important to both of us,” he says, offering Eddie a small smile. “And I don’t want to ruin it. I really am having a good time.”

The only reason Eddie can imagine that he would be even remotely this lucky is if the universe is trying to make up for the debacle that was last spring (but then again, seen in the reverse, he can’t imagine why the universe would be inflicting him on Steve; he’ll have to keep thinking on that one). And on the one hand, he’s determined not to waste this opportunity – neither Steve’s good will nor his second chance. But on the other hand–

He can’t not ask.

Shifting his hand a little so he can wrap his fingers around Steve’s, Eddie takes a breath and bites the bullet. “Okay, but what… were you thinking of as our first date?”

For a long minute, Steve says nothing, and Eddie tries not to panic, tries not to assume that he’s just ruined everything by admitting he doesn’t even know which instance Steve is talking about, and mostly fails. But then Steve takes a breath and shakes his head.

“It’s… kinda stu–”

“Don’t say it,” Eddie cuts in sharply, warning, before he can stop himself. “I’m sure it’s not. Tell me about it.”

Steve shoots Eddie a chagrined kind of smile before turning his eyes to the surface of the table. “It was at the diner,” he says, and Eddie only just holds himself back from asking which time, because they’ve gone to the tiny diner off the side of the road near Forest Hills together more times than he can count; it’s within walking distance of Eddie’s place, and it tends to be their go-to when they want to go out but have no particular destination in mind. “It was that first night. The first time we kissed.”

It hits Eddie like a jab to the sternum that Steve chooses to phrase it that way: the first time they kissed. Because if Eddie remembers one thing for certain, it’s that the first night they kissed had also been the first night they’d had sex – and yet it’s the kiss that Steve focuses on. It’s the kiss that had been important to him.

“I guess there wasn’t anything that special about that night. Nothing different. We just had fun,” Steve says quietly. “Pretty sure we drove everyone else crazy fighting over the jukebox, especially since most of the songs in there suck, anyway, and you were telling me about what happened during your last game and you tried to draw it on a napkin with ketchup and a toothpick, which… did not turn out well, and you kept stealing fries off my plate–”

“Because you kept dipping them in your milkshake and I was telling you that it was gross!” Eddie remembers.

“Of course, that part stands out to you,” Steve grouses, though there’s a bit of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Hey, you made a believer out of me. Fries and vanilla shake, I have to admit it’s good,” Eddie says, and Steve’s smile grows a little more.

“But, yeah, like I said, it wasn’t… special, I guess, I just remember thinking that I wanted to do that with you all the time. I wanted to do everything with you all the time, whatever it was,” Steve says. “And then when we were back in your room, sitting on your bed, you were looking at me like– I thought you wanted to–”

“I did,” Eddie says quickly. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to kiss me. I don’t know, I was – kinda turned around about it, but I knew I was glad that you did it first, because I was too chickenshit to ever do it myself.”

Eddie remembers this part clearly; something had seemed different about Steve when they’d gotten back from the diner. There had been something softer and lighter about him that had made Eddie want to reach out and touch – an urge he wasn’t unfamiliar with. He is, after all, queer as hell, and—though he feels like an ass for phrasing it this way, now—Steve is really hot. Of course he’d had thoughts about Steve before; he just tended to ignore them, because they were friends, and the thought that anything more could happen between them seemed outlandish.

But then Steve had leaned in and kissed him.

The first one had been close-mouthed and soft, almost tentative, sweet, but ensuing kisses had been deeper, more wanton, and before Eddie had quite registered the shift, Steve was in his lap and his tongue was practically down Steve’s throat and he’d thought – well, maybe there could be a little more between them. Maybe things didn’t have to change all that much.

He'd rolled with it, and then he’d rolled them over, and then he’d helped Steve get rid of his shirt and he’d ditched his own, and then he’d begun the process of learning how to wring as many sweet, pleasured noises as possible out of Steve.

Now, back at the picnic table in the fluttering light of nearly a dozen cheap candles, Steve is looking at Eddie oddly, like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.

“Well… since I had kind of been looking at that night as when we, uh– got together, I just – yeah, made sense to me. First date.” Steve shrugs.

A frown pulls across Eddie’s face, and he fights to keep it at bay, so he doesn’t give Steve the wrong impression – he’s not upset with Steve, he’s just upset. He’s upset that he can’t look at that night the same way Steve had – that he hadn’t experienced it the same way. He wishes he had; that he’d let himself consider what it might be like not if he and Steve could be friends and have sex, but if he and Steve could be more than that.

He squeezes Steve’s fingers, still wrapped in his own, and catches Steve’s eye when he looks up. “You know… I mean, I know that not all of the time we spent together has the same significance for me that it did for you, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s all he can say for himself, but at least it’s true. “I love spending time with you. Even when I’m complaining, I’m doing it with joy.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. “With joy?”

“Yep. Entirely joyful complaining,” Eddie says seriously.

“Well, you do like complaining.” Steve smirks.

“I sure the fuck do. It’s what makes us such a good pair,” Eddie replies, and Steve laughs.

They talk for a while longer after that, lighter and easier than before, but eventually it gets too chilly to reasonably keep sitting around. They’d been blessed with unusually mild weather that night, but late October is still late October, and the temperature has dropped since the sun’s gone down.

They work together to blow out all the candles before they end up dropping them in a nearby garbage can once they realize that the wax is still liquid and Eddie can’t put them back in his bag (“Okay, I thought of almost everything,” Eddie insists as he produces a flashlight to light their way back to the van). Eddie turns up the heat before pulling back out into the road, and they take the drive back to Steve’s house in contented silence.

Eddie parks and turns the van off once they’re in the driveway, and Steve watches with curiosity as Eddie gets out with him, but says nothing as they walk up to the front door together.

“Well,” Eddie says once they reach the porch, “I had a great time tonight. D’you think I can see you again?”

Steve blinks at him, doing almost a doubletake as he looks from Eddie to his door and then back again.

“Do you– You don’t want to come in?” Steve asks, a little bewildered.

“Oh, no, I very much do,” Eddie assures him. “But this is take two, right? And I said I was gonna do it right, and that means no sex until the third date. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the rule.”

Steve laughs, but quickly quiets when all Eddie does is smile at him. “You’re serious,” he says, a bit flat with disbelief.

“Completely.” Eddie nods. “I’m romancing you, remember?”

There’s another moment of quiet stillness from Steve before a slow, delighted grin begins to grow on his face. “Well, in that case…” he says, “I had a great time, too.” He leans in and pecks a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, short and almost shy. “Call me.”

And then he’s gone, the front door closing behind him before Eddie can even register what’s happened.

Eddie barely even remembers getting back into the van, but if he had to guess, he’d say he probably floated there.

It should be ridiculous – he’s had Steve’s mouth on pretty much every part of him, he’s had Steve on top of him and underneath him and crying out his name and begging him for more, he’s had Steve naked and sated and curled around him, and yet it’s one short kiss that nearly short-circuits him.

It should be ridiculous, but Eddie thinks it might actually be the best thing in the world.

Part 8

Tag List (Currently full! Drop me a line if you want off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #consistent chapter length? never heard of her #anyway have some date fluff. we've got... a little more stuff coming up #solar wrote

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hailbales · 8 months

Text

a release

warnings: dark!! jj, angst, fighting, oral (m receiving), face fucking

summary: jj needs to release some pent up anger and you offer yourself up

masterlist

minors dni!

“get out of my way!” you hissed, pushing past the crowd of people that were surrounding the fight like it was WWE. “I said, move!”

finally, you made it to the middle as your eyes land on your best friend and some random kook on top of him, landing punch after punch. jj wasn’t even trying to fight back. “get off him, you asshole!” you beat on the guys back, pulling at his t-shirt. when he doesn’t let up, you move to the speakers that were blasting music near them before you pull the plug.

“everybody get the fuck out! cops are on their way!” you yelled at the top of your lungs, causing everybody to scurry out like a pack of roaches, leaving a mess of red solo cups and beer bottles behind.

once every one’s out, you trudge towards the blonde haired boy that caused all this mess as he stands in the kitchen, nonchalantly sipping on a beer. “what the hell is your problem?! I know starting fights is kind of your forte but letting that kook punch your face in?! you didn’t even try to fight back?!”

he shrugs nonchalantly, pulling the can towards his mouth but you quickly snatch it out of his hands, tossing it down into the sink. “and since when are you the host?!”

“why are you even here, y/n?” he rolls his eyes, leaning off of the counter as he makes a move towards the living room. you follow him, your eyes catching the carpet that was stained with his blood. the sight makes a pit form in your stomach.

“maybe because I’m your best friend?!” you push at his back, making him stop in his tracks as he turns to face you, a stoic expression on his features.

“maybe because I got a call that some dumbass was starting fights and not finishing them?!” you push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. “maybe because your face is more beat up than it isn’t?!” another push. “maybe because I fucking care about you?!-“

he wraps his hands around your wrist as you move to push him again, causing you to gulp as you stare up at him. you didn’t even realize your eyes had watered over until you feel a salty tear run down your cheek. “stop.” he says through gritted teeth, his grip on your wrist almost bruising.

“I won’t. I won’t stop. not until you talk to me-“

“for fuck sakes- can you shut the hell up for once in your life, y/n?!” he pushes you up against the wall harshly, sending a sharp pain through your back as he pins your hands on either side or your head. “nobody wants you here- nobody asked you here! so jus do me a favor and get the hell out of my house!”

“no- that won’t work on me. you can’t push me away, I won’t let you-“

“just stop!” he yells, pulling you forward enough to throw you back against the wall causing you to winch in pain. “jj, you’re hurting me.”

“what? can’t take it but you can dish out?” he spits out, looking you up and down in disgust. your chin trembles but you won’t dare let another tear fall. you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“you wanna hurt me, jj? is that what it is, are you so miserable that you won’t let yourself have one good thing? you enjoy getting your face punched in, is that it? you think you deserve it, don’t you?”

his bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes staring daggers into yours. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.” he seethed.

“really? I don’t? cause I think I hit it pretty head on.” you can feel the anger radiating off of him as his warm breath fanned your face from how close he was. “you really wanna take your anger out on someone?”

“take it out on me.”

you didn’t have time to think before he was forcefully pressing his mouth against yours, letting go of one of your aching wrists to wrap his hand around your neck. “just remember you asked for it.” he gritted against your lips before reconnecting them as he picked you up off your feet, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he carried you to the other side of the room before he threw you down on the couch, quickly crawling on top of you. he moved your hair away from your neck before attacking it with kisses and bites that were sure to bruise tomorrow as his hands roamed your waist.

you let out a whimper when he found that sweet spot on your neck as you bucked your hips up in anticipation. “so desperate for me, huh?” he growled, reaching for the buckle of his belt before swiftly pulling it off. “get on your knees.”

you listened, sitting up as he stood off the couch, moving to stand in front of you. you felt your stomach flutter with nerves but the throbbing feeling between your legs took over as you reached for the button on his shorts.

you quickly pulled them down along with his boxers causing him to let out a low groan, running his fingers through your hair before wrapping it around his hand. the sight of his cock swollen and throbbing, leaking with pre-cum had you clenching your thighs together.

“you think I need your pity?” he growled, forcing your head closer. “hm?” you couldn’t resist, wanting to taste him so bad it was painful, so you stuck your tongue out, placing a gentle lick on his angry red tip. his hips jerked forward, a loud deep moan escaping his lips before he looked down at you with frustrated hooded eyes. “answer me.” he yanked your hair, making you look up at him.

“no, j. jus wanna make you feel better.” you muttered, your big doe eyes making his heart pound faster in his chest as you were on your knees for him. “you wanna make me feel better? is that right?” he cooed softly, placing his foot between your legs to apply pressure to your throbbing heat.

you whimpered in response, attempting to rock your hips against him but he yanked your hair, shaking his head at you with a tsk of his tongue. “open up, sweetheart.”

you quickly obliged as he slowly inched himself into your mouth, his salty cum on your taste buds mixed with his quiet whimpers made the throbbing in between your thighs more intense. he pushed all the way to the back of your throat, stilling when the tip of your nose met the hairs on his pelvis. you tried to relax your throat, to prepare yourself but he didn’t give you the chance before he was harshly thrusting into you, fucking your face with such vigor your throat was sure to be bruised tomorrow.

you started rocking yourself against him again, feeling so wound up it was painful as you placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself.

when you moaned against him, he threw his head back with a loud groan, keeping both hands on the back of your head to aid his deep thrusts. “ohhh, fuckkk.” he growled, looking back down at you before his gaze fell onto where you and his foot met. “that’s right, baby. get yourself off on my shoe like the dirty little slut you are.” his dirty words only made you more vocal, sending vibrations through his cock as you pushed him closer to the edge. “fuck, you feel so good. so tight.”

you felt his dick throb inside of you as he thrusted as hard and fast as his hips could manage, not caring about how you choked and struggled around him or the tears that ran down your cheeks. “that’s right, baby. take it all. you can do it, come on.”

you hummed in agreement, looking up at him with doting eyes. his thrusts got sloppier, telling you he was near his end as he hissed and moaned, finding you in disarray over his cock the most sexiest thing he had ever seen. you moved your hand to fondle with his balls, massaging the tender sack causing him to let out a loud yell as his hips stuttered before he stilled, shooting long thick ropes of hot cum down your throat.

he waited until you had swallowed twice to slowly pull out, admiring the spit and cum trailing down your chin. “my pretty girl.” he muttered, caressing your cheek before picking up some of the mess with his thumb, encouraging you to suck it off. you do, staring up at him with tired eyes, lashes fluttering. he hums, feeling his half soft dick start to swell again.

“lay down for me, yeah?”

—

part 2? 🫣 lmk

#jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #obx imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #john b routledge

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

Text

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter five

summary: you and luca finally talk about what happened the night of the ballet -- and finally have a chance to clear the air.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3k

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part four | masterlist | part six

You’ve been avoiding his calls all day.

After Luca bid you goodnight on Thursday, you’d practically sprinted upstairs and into your apartment, slamming the door behind you while wondering what the hell was wrong with you?

You’re too stubborn for your own good, you think to yourself, recalling the moment – the one where you could’ve kissed him but you didn’t – between you and Luca. You stood there, too paralyzed to make a move, yet unable and unwilling to walk away from him.

Luca had given you space most of yesterday, save for a text later in the evening, but the fact that today is Saturday, the day he almost always comes into the restaurant, is not lost on you. Instead of dealing with it, you’ve been hyper focused all day, choosing to bury your head in work as you run lunch service with Mathilde, more than grateful that business has run at a steady pace today.

It’s not until you hit a stop, forced to pause after a few hours in between the lunch and dinner rush, reaches a lull. Your brain is suddenly inundated with too many thoughts: was this it? Had you scared him away forever? Did he think you were a total freak considering you’d practically run away from him after he’d said goodnight?

“So are we going to talk about it?” Mathilde presses you, ripping you out of your thoughts with the sound of her voice. You look her way, noticing that her lips pursed in sheer annoyance at your avoidance mechanisms.

Your face falls, unable to carry this solo for much longer, letting out a sigh of resignation because you know she’s right.

You can’t run from this – from your feelings, from Luca – forever.

“Yeah,” you give in. “Yeah, okay.”

“What the hell happened?” Mathilde hisses as she approaches you. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, he’s cultured… he took you out to the ballet, and you like him!”

“I don’t know,” you huff, disappointedly. “I just-, I think I got too caught up in my head. It’s like one minute I was really jazzed at the idea of being on a date, let alone a date with Luca, and the next I’m just… I don’t know… totally psyching myself out and pushing him away.”

“Merde,” she swears in French this time.

“Fuck,” you sigh, at least releasing a little of the pent up pressure you’ve been holding onto all day.

“Babe, I know that holding all of this,” she begins, gesturing wildly towards you, “gives you a certain edge in the kitchen… but I can’t imagine it’s good for you.”

You send her another look – one that says ‘fuck off because I know you’re right’ this time.

“I don’t know what to do, Mathilde,” you confess, your eyes pleading with her for some advice.

She turns to you, this time with a much more serious expression as she says, “Luca seems like a really great guy. Maybe you should just tell him all of this.”

You nod slowly as you process. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – it’s not like it’s a new concept to you – you were married once, after all. But the idea of being vulnerable like that, showing someone new your whole hand feels really scary. You know it’s the thing you need to do; it’s the kindest, most honest option that you have – and you know that Luca deserves just that: kindness, transparency, the truth.

As you continue to think it over, the only words that come to you are:

“I told him that I wasn’t in love with him anymore – with Joe. When he asked.”

“Luca?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Was it?” Mathilde questions you carefully.

You share your head, growing more and more certain in your answer.

“No, of course not. It’s not that. My hesitation has never been about Joe. It’s-, it’s about me…” you explain, finding the right words in the moment. “... about my heart.”

Mathilde places a gentle hand on your shoulder as you share a knowing look as she listens.

“What if I do this? I mean, what if I jump… and it’s a horrible mess… and I ruin a good thing with a really great guy because I’m not ready?” you ask, shining a light on your biggest fears.

She takes a beat, thinking it over, before crossing her arms over her chest, as the two of you stand side by side, leaning up against a stainless steel prep station.

“Then you do,” she answers, as if it were that simple. “And you figure out the rest. You’re only human after all.”

You chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at Mathilde’s not-so-friendly reminder.

“Here’s an idea,” she starts back up again, catching your attention as you glance sideways to look at her. “What if you jump? And it’s the best thing you’ve ever done? What if it’s worth it?”

You take a deep breath, letting her words sink in, letting yourself feel the possibility that this could also be the best thing you’ve ever done too. But before you can say anything in response, Jesper comes back into the kitchen, calling for you.

“Hate to break up the slumber party, ladies, but can I borrow you for a moment, Chef?” he asks, making it clear that he’s talking to you. You and Mathilde exchange glances as Jesper nods through the open kitchen to where Luca waits for you in the dining room. You open your mouth to say something, but instead, you just nod, murmuring a ‘yeah, of course,’ quick to follow Jesper out of the kitchen.

It’s impeccable timing, really, you think to yourself, that you were just contemplating the possibility that this could be something you could do.

You could jump, you remind yourself, if you really wanted to.

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper as soon as you see Luca.

“Hi,” he smiles warmly in return, causing Jesper to look from you to Luca, then back to you again.

“I’m just gonna-,” he starts, searching for an excuse.

Only, he doesn’t have one, so Jesper simply excuses himself before disappearing into the kitchen to find a place where he and Mathilde both can pretend to do something when really eavesdropping.

Jesper’s abrupt and clumsy exit seems some of the palpable tension, earring a laugh from both you and Luca.

“I thought-,” he begins as you simultaneously say, “I’ve been meaning to call-.”

“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic half smile.

“No I’m-. You go first,” you encourage, blushing on a little as the two of you clumsily dance around each other.

Luca takes a breath, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be this weird if there wasn’t something between the two of you – that he hasn’t been imagining this – not even a little bit.

“I hope that it’s okay. That I’m here,” he finally says, his voice steady and even.

“I-, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask him, suddenly insecure about the fact that he felt he needed to ask in the first place.

“I just-, well I thought ehm, maybe you’d need some space. I didn’t want to ehm, you know… show up here if-, even though it’s Saturday because it is your place and I wouldn’t want-,” Luca tries to explain, stopping and starting again and again.

“Luca, no I-,” you say, before pausing, swearing to yourself under your breath as you mutter. “Shit. Fuck, I-. Goddamn, you really are fucking perfect.”

“What was that?” Luca asks, only catching the swearing part at the beginning and the ‘fucking perfect’ part at the end.

“Um…” you trail off, looking around you.

As you catch Jesper and Mathilde ducking behind a shelf out of the corner of your eye, and a few of your waitstaff hurrying to make it look like they’re busy and not listening in, you realize that you and Luca have managed to earn the attention of some very curious onlookers.

“Do you want to step outside for a moment?” you ask, gesturing towards the front door.

“Sure,” he nods, letting you lead him to a spot outside.

You make sure that you're both as out of sight as possible, staying far away from the broad windows that line the front of your restaurant.

“Hi,” you say again on an exhale.

“Hi,” he says back, simply.

“I’m glad you came. I know I-... I should’ve called, or- or texted you… after Thursday,” you begin, nervously, eager to own up to the very big part you’ve played in the lack of communication.

“Yes. You should’ve,” he repeats, his eyes catching yours as you nod in confirmation.

It’s good – that he’s not going to let you off the hook – and while you like it, you like that he has boundaries, you’re disappointed in yourself as you say:

“I’m sorry.”

Luca sighs, shaking his head as he immediately counters with:

“No, I’m sorry. I mean, yes, you should’ve called. Or at least texted. But I should’ve been clear in the first place that Thursday…” he trails off, almost as if he’s mustering up the courage to say what he needs to say.

“... that Thursday was more to me than our regular excursions. That it was a date. To me at least.”

“Luca-.”

“I wish I would’ve told you – made it clear in the first place – so you knew what you were getting into,” Luca finishes, carefully watching for your reaction. There’s something so honest in the way he goes about this conversation, and you sure as hell feel like you could take the proverbial jump right fucking now.

“I appreciate that. Really, I do…” you start, before trailing off again. “But I-. This isn’t on you, Luca.”

“How do you mean?” he asks you, his expressive brows knitted together, as if you’d just spoken in tongues.

Here goes nothing, you think to yourself.

“I-. This has been great. I mean… I really like spending time with you,” you start, anxiously, instantly realizing that it sounds like you’re breaking up with him. “Fuck, I-.”

You let out a frustrated groan as it seems you’re having an impossible time getting out what you need to get out. You take a breath. And a beat, before continuing.

“And I’ve really liked this… hanging out, getting to know you… borrowing your books. I-, I just… we’ve got such a good thing going and I really don’t want to fuck this up, you know?”

He sighs your name this time, looking down for a moment as you add:

“I’m-, I’m afraid that… I’m going to fuck this up.”

“Yeah. I know,” he answers, heavily. “I-, I am too.”

“And then Thursday night, things were so, so good, and I-, I panicked and I feel terrible because… you don’t deserve that. You don’t.”

Luca takes a beat as he listens. He’s not sure what exactly that means, but he reminds himself to stay on track, stay the course and make sure that he says what he came here to say to you.

“It’s alright,” he reassures you, softly, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to feel a certain way just because I-.”

“No, that’s not it! That’s not-, that’s really not the problem,” you interject as you struggle to explain yourself, unsure of where to even begin. You take a step towards him this time too, your voice softening as you continue. “Luca, I don’t feel obligated to feel… any kind of way just because you-.”

“Because I?” he questions you.

The silence his questions leaves goes on a few beats longer than you expected, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to fill in the blank.

“Well, I don’t know,” you pause, a shocked look on your face as one of you waits for the other.

“You didn’t-, I never let you finish your sentence so,” you ramble aimlessly, immediately bursting out into a fit of laughter as you realize that neither of you are getting anywhere.

Luca laughs too, joining in on the much needed reprieve.

The two of you exchange glances, and one more shared laugh, before settling in once again.

With a crooked smile spread across his lips, Luca can take a hint, realizing that he may need to take the lead on this one.

The way your name sounds on his lips is so heavenly, so divine, so soft that you know you’ve got it bad, as you scramble for a way to tell him everything that you’ve been feeling.

“May I?” he asks, in reference to taking the lead.

“Please.”

“I just came here to tell you… I want to tell you…” he corrects himself, taking a step towards you.

“... that I really like you. I really like spending time with you. I like that you get me out of the kitchen in search of something different. And I think that your mind, even though incredibly neurotic, is absolutely brilliant. And if what you need is for us to be friends right now, I want that. We can… slow all of this down. All you’ve got to do is talk to me.”

It feels like time fucking stops, and the world goes black and white for a moment, then full color all at once as you hear the words coming out of his mouth. Your revelation comes rushing in, clear as day – that this man cares so deeply for you and that maybe, your heart could be safe with him. Unsure of how to deal with the grace and compassion Luca is showing you, you’re only left with one question, as it falls from your lips like a boulder.

“How?”

“What?”

“How do you always have the right thing to say…” you ask him, your voice caught in your throat as you finish your question. “... when I only have the wrong things to say?”

Luca opens his mouth to say something you’ll never hear, as you choose to completely throw caution to the wind.

Perhaps the question was rhetorical anyways.

You’re not sure what’s coms over you, but instead of words, you only have actions left, and the only thing that will remedy the situation is to do the thing that you’ve been panicking over doing since Luca showed you into the pastry room at AOC. You charge forward, reaching out for him, and he’s right there with you, meeting you halfway as you eagerly press your lips to his.

You can feel all the blood in your body rush through you as your lips connect. Your heart flutters. Your head spins. It’s the kind of kiss that people write sonnets about – write love songs about. It’s almost three months of simmering tension, finally allowed to reach its boiling point. You pull away, just for a moment, uttering out a breathless:

“Holy shit.”

Luca laughs with a shake of his head as he agrees with a, “Yeah.”

You exchange a look, and a laugh, before kissing him again.

And this time the kiss is a hello, it’s a new beginning, it’s a ‘thank god I met you.’

This time, Luca pulls away, reluctantly releasing you as he does.

“It’s not that I don’t like this,” he begins, using all of his restraint to put this on pause. “I really, really do, but… I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“No, no, I know,” you apologize, turning as you hear your name called, swearing under your breath again as soon as you see Mathilde peeking her head out of the front door.

“Oh… my God! I am so sorry, I’ll just-, except for we need you to-, she calls after you, stumbling over her words as soon as she realizes what’s going on between you and Luca.

“Nevermind it can wait!” Jesper exclaims, poking his head out of the front door as well, before dragging Mathilde back into the restaurant.

You and Luca exchange another laugh.

“They’re… something,” you chuckle, with a shake of your head.

“Good wingmen,” Luca adds, mirroring your previous exchange with his coworker.

Returning his focus to you, Luca shakes his head incredulously, considering this is not the way he thought this conversation would go. He grins as he takes you in, but knows that this is time limited. He’d noticed the curious staff of your restaurant that he’s come to know and love doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in on your conversation earlier. They know exactly what’s going on here, so if they felt the need to interrupt, Luca knows that you’re most likely needed back in the kitchen.

He shifts his weight in between both of his feet, taking a small step back as he states:

“We’re gonna have to talk about this.”

“Yes,” you agree, your declaration certain.

“But right now you have to go,” Luca continues.

“Right now I have to go,” you echo as confirmation. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk. Tonight?”

“Yeah ehm. Not to be… presumptuous. But my place is closeby. We could… perhaps talk. Tonight. There?” Luca suggests, trying to downplay the fact that it sounds like he’s asking you to come over for a booty call.

It’s certainly not his intention, considering he’d just offered to slow things down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” you agree, suddenly nervous again. “When I’m done here. If you’re still up.”

“It’s a date,” Luca agrees, deciding to move in towards you again.

You nod, taking another step towards him so that you can kiss him again.

“Oh, and Luca?”

He hums in response, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips because he really can’t wait to kiss you again either. .

“I should be-. I want to be clear,” you begin, deciding to be brave in this moment.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I really like you too,” you say, before standing tall on your tiptoes, and pulling him down to you for, this time, a see-you-later kiss.

----------------------------

a/n: ummm hi how are we doing is everyone doing ok?!

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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littlesubbyflower · 4 months

Text

High Pitch - E.M.

Pairings:: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

1.5k Words

Warnings:: Fluff, established relationship, reader has sensitive ears and often finds discomfort in certain pitches, mentions of tympanostomy (surgery where tubes are placed in the eardrum)

Summary:: After seeing your discomfort during Corroded Coffin’s setlist, Eddie vows you will never have to cover your ears ever again.

A/N:: Maybe you guys will like this version of Eddie? Sweet, loving, and caring boyfriend!Eddie. Also, thanks to my babies in the coven accountability sessions, ily <3 divider by @saradika-graphics

It all started one rainy September afternoon, Eddie swore he saw you flinch when he turned up the boombox he had stationed on his dresser. He had just gotten Ozzy Osbourne’s ‘The Ultimate Sin’ cassette in the sale section of the record store. Bringing one hand up to plug your ear closest to the radio before wrinkling your nose in discomfort, the other hand keeping the well loved copy of The Secret Garden open in your lap.

“Um, Eddie? Can you turn the radio down some?” You say apologetically. “I uh, just have a bit of a headache today.”

Eddie immediately lowers the volume almost completely and sends an apologetic smile your way. “Yeah sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He takes a step forward and leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Do you need any Advil? Have you eaten anything? Drink any water?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” You smile sheepishly after slowly pulling your hand back down away from your ear. “I ate some of my lunch today, but I was in the library studying and only managed to eat my grapes and a granola bar. I had a few sips of my water too.”

Eddie shoots you a worried glance. “Alright, well, I’ll grab some Advil, a snack and water.”

“Thank you Eddie, you’re the best.” You call after him as he leaves the room.

He returns a few minutes later with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, two Advil and a water bottle.

The next time Eddie swears he’s seeing things as you wince and plug your ears is during Corroded Coffin’s band practice

“Hey, I’m going to step out for a second,” You call over the guitar solo that Jeff had been working on. “--just need some fresh air.” Quickly standing and rushing outside near his van.

Jeff finishes two notes before he stops and turns to Eddie. “Hey, is she okay?”

“Yeah man, said she just needed some air.” Eddie said, pulling a cigarette from the crushed box he had in his pocket and lighting it before inhaling and sitting on one of the larger guitar amps.

“Maybe her ears are a little sensitive. Sometimes certain pitches can bother me, so I wonder if it’s the same for her.” Gareth says.

“Maybe? She has been having a few more headaches, and asks me to turn things down quite often.” Eddie says, ashing his cigarette into the amber ashtray sitting on a table next to the amp.

Jeff nods in agreement, and turns the amp down a few notices and starts the solo again. Meanwhile, you’re rummaging through your bag, dumping the contents into Eddie’s passenger seat. Finally grabbing the small bottle of Advil, you take two. You make a mental note to try and put a pack of ear plugs into your bag for times like this.

You feel guilty tears building in your lash line, wiping them quickly before heading back towards the garage. Finding your place back on the couch, you sit with your feet tucked under you before smiling at the guys.

“Feelin’ any better, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, I am.” You smile back at him. “Thanks.” You say as Gareth hands you a water then passes water to the other boys.

For the next twenty minutes, any guitar solos that needed to be practiced were done so with the instrument unplugged or moved to one of the acoustic guitars. Confusion settles over your features but you decide not to ask, silently thankful that the rest of band practice went a lot more quietly than when it had started.

“Well boys, I’m beat. We’re probably going to head out.” Eddie says, standing from his spot where he was still seated on the amp.

“You sure? We can stay for a bit longer if you want to keep practicing.” You say, looking up at him. Eddie smiles at you.

“I’m sure sweetheart, plus you look a bit tired. Let’s get you home.” Eddie says, holding his hand out for you to take. You take his hand and he helps you off the couch. “Okay boys, guess we’re leaving. Same time on Wednesday?”

“Possibly.” Jeff said.

“We have a gig tomorrow at The Hideout.” Gareth reminded Eddie. “Nine pm, so we will need to load up the van and go to unpack at seven.”

“Got it! I’ll be here at seven, if any of you asshats are late, you’ll be walking.” Eddie jokes.

Eddie peaked out from the corner to see you chatting with Steve and Robin. He smiled to himself and stepped back closer towards the band.

“Does anyone want a drink before we go on?” Jeff asked.

“Can I just have a Coke?” Gareth asked.

“Same.” Eddie said.

Damien shook his head. “No thanks, I’m good.”

Jeff slipped out into the crowd and ordered the drinks and quickly went back to distribute them before downing his own drink before making his way to the stage. Meanwhile, Steve migrated you and Robin closer to the front so you could see Eddie.

“Oh, I meant to ask, did you bring your ear plugs?” Robin said close to your ear.

Your face paled in color as you pat your pockets. Steve searched his pockets as well but came up empty handed.

“Shit…” you groaned.

“It’s okay, maybe the pitches won’t be so bad?” Robin said wearily. Boy she was so, so wrong. A high pitched, loud, note came barreling out of the amp and nine o’clock on the dot.

Steve’s hands immediately came up to your ears as you flinched, squeezing your eyes shut, silently cursing yourself for being so forgetful.

Eddie sent a confused look your way and Gareth scrunched his face up in an apologetic manner, while Jeff’s face held a guilty expression.

The set was short tonight, playing two or three songs instead of the usual five or six. It was something you were extremely grateful for, but would rather die than tell Eddie that.

“We’re Corroded Coffin, Thanks so much for coming out tonight!” Eddie said with a goofy grin that faded when the spotlight turned off.

A group of girls waited by the side of the stage for Eddie, but after setting his guitar down, he walked straight past them and made a beeline to you.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes search yours before pulling you into a hug as Steve removes his hands off of your ears.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay! Why?”

“No you aren’t.” Robin says.

Steve elbows her side. “This isn’t our place, Rob.”

“Well could someone tell me what’s going on?” Eddie says.

Silence falls between the four of you. Eddie expectantly looks at you.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips as you close your eyes and turn your head away. “I just– it’s just–”

“Sweetheart, take a deep breath, I promise whatever it is, I won’t be mad.” Eddie says, using his thumb and forefinger to turn your head to look at him.

“I have really sensitive ears and sometimes the notes that are being played physically hurt my eardrums…” Your eyes immediately drop to the floor. “Not your typical ‘Ow, that was kind of loud’ hurt, like ‘someone is shoving needles into my eardrum’ kind of hurt.”

Eddie sucks in a deep breath and a guilty look flashed across his face. Why had you been in pain this entire time and never said anything? Band practice was probably the most miserable 2 to 3 hours of your life and Eddie had absolutely no idea. If band practice was bad, then the gigs played at The Hideout were even worse.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie said. “Why didn’t you say anything? God, now I feel like an asshole for anytime I gave you shit when you asked me to turn things down.” Sighing heavily, pulling your body impossibly closer to his, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly. “I am going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck as he squeezed you, you giggled. “Eddie, ‘s not your fault. I just had three tympanostomies before the age of six.” Eddie looks at you confused. “I had three sets of tubes put into my ears before the age of six for my chronic ear infections and because of that, I have super sensitive ears.”

“She’s also supposed to use ear plugs.” Robin said, in her ‘matter of factly’ tone.

“Ear plugs?”

“Yes, earplugs. She’s got some special ones that her doctor had given her for use at school, but she’s supposed to wear the foam type ones if she goes to concerts.” Robin continues and Steve chimes in. “Usually I have some in my pocket because she and Robin have convinced me to go to several impromptu concerts, but I have two or three packs on me to block out the twerps arguing when I have to drive them around. Dustin’s screaming gets intense sometimes.”

“Melvad’s closes at eleven, right?” Eddie asks.

“I’m pretty sure, I think Joyce is working tonight too.” You say. “It’s late, can we just go tomorrow?”

“Whether we go now or in the morning, I don’t care.” Eddie kisses the top of your head. “I’m buying an entire box of foam ear plugs to keep in the van. I never, and I mean never want to see the look I saw on your face as soon as we started playing ever again.”

#littlesubbyflower #lsfwrites #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #littlesubbyflower: eddie munson #boyfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff

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vampirzina · 3 months

Note

Bi han and kuai liamg with a vaternian/vampire reader pleasee how they met how they are together ect

𓆩𓆪 ┆ vaeternian!reader (w. Bi Han & Kuai Liang) hcs

tw: gn!pronouns, sfw, mdni, blood speak, nitara, wu lae and tomas mention

notes: this req wait i’m geeked ?! also quick reminder, requests are closed as of right now! any requests made after jan. 31 won’t be done, this request came in prior to the closing

masterlist

You “met” Bi Han before things got all-around bad for everyone. Though Vaeternus has their own realm to live, it’s known that there is not enough supply to feed your kinds’ severe population problem. You haven’t been there in years, even before the coven decided to scour the realms for food—you were always ten steps ahead. You descended upon the Lin Kuei, and that’s when you met Bi Han.

Initially, you and Bi Han had a deal. You wanted to feed, and Bi Han wanted to keep you from eating up his initiates. Obviously, Liu Kang left this decision up to him, who was determined to make a pawn out of you—he’d let you feed from him if you didn’t drain his ninja and you ran errands for the Lin Kuei. Somewhere down the line he’d become selfish of you… You noticed that when he begins to note when you hadn’t bitten him in a while, as if he’s expecting you or keeping track of your eating habits, and you mention that you’d eaten already (who fed you?).

With Bi Han, there’s no promises that he can keep his temper in check. There’s so many things that upset him; so many things that are on thin ice that one should not hope to fall through. Bi Han’s blood becomes chilled by the cryomancy running through his veins, and, as you guess, can make him a meal akin to gallons of ice cream. Brain freeze happens so easily with him and you have to remind him to chill out.

Once you and Bi Han make it official, he wants you to only feed on him. Perhaps it’s a human thing, but there’s just something intimate about feeding from someone else that a man like Bi Han does not enjoy. He knows you’re loyal and would never do anything to upset him on purpose because you’re just having a meal, but you seeking out someone else to eat from makes it seem like he’s inadequate when he’s far from. In order to make this a reality, Bi Han suggests you just live with him early on.

An unlikely pair Bi Han makes with you, by all accounts. You were the one to suggest the relationship, but that didn’t mean Bi Han didn’t dwell on the thought of having you in his bed. The deal you both struck up was a mere hollow hideaway for his true feelings for you—despite you unable to walk out into the sun, needing to feed on blood and everything that makes you a vampire, you were strong and powerful, and Bi Han liked that. Sure, maybe he likes a submissive partner who does what they’re told, but he’d be lying if he said he wanted a total helpless do-nothing who couldn’t protect themselves if his enemies find out who he keeps close.

₊˚⊹꒷

For the last time, you thank the nurse. Your wings tense at the simple brush of your own fingers against the bandage of your wrist. You’d sprain it on a solo mission and though you would be fine, you let out a little sigh. This’ll be annoying.

You hear the nurse mutter and step aside on the way out. You look up.

The nurse gone, Bi Han is already shutting the door behind him. His brown eyes don’t look at you, but your wrist—and his face paints itself a small frown.

“I did it,” you follow his gaze down to the injury. “You wanted to send a message, right? He won’t be bothering the Lin Kuei for a while.”

“Thank you. You did well,” was all Bi Han said in return. It didn’t even sound thankful but you knew he meant it; he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about something. The grandmaster stops close to you, close enough that he could touch you without strain.

You watch with warm eyes Bi Han inspect the injury.

“If you’re thinking what I think you are, no… Wu Lae couldn’t have laid a paw on me,” you explained in him even though he hadn’t asked. “Just did not quite stick the landing coming back.”

His frame visibly relaxes, and he’s so close to you that you can faintly feel him exhale through his nose.

“Anyway, I had plans to eat when I came back but you look tired,” you rasp, hands coming to massage Bi Han’s arms. You could feel satisfied by just the juicy feel of it, the blood, but you know better.

“I’m not,”

“You are,”

“Eat from me,” he interrupted you into silence, a silence which you honored to hear him. “We’ve been over this. There is no excuse, no reason for you to go looking when I’m right here.”

It took a moment of staring between you two to finally give in. You guide Bi Han’s arms around you and your legs around him, and his breath hitches when you keel him over.

“Fine. But don’t complain when you wake up with a sore body.”

───

Bi Han likes to read you by the way your wings move.

Thanks to Nitara, you and Kuai Liang met. It’s unclear whether or not you two would have even had the chance to meet if she weren’t trying to attack Kuai Liang and his brothers. You’d spotted them long before she was sent by Shang Tsung and his backers, and you were quick to place your dibs. So when she swooped in despite your claim to the food, of course you saved him. It was a short conversation of gratitude and greeting, but the spark of a flame nonetheless.

After watching Bi Han’s betrayal from afar, you couldn’t bear to keep hunting Kuai Liang. You were a vampire, not morally depraved—but now you didn’t know what to do. With your hunger growing and the inability to find sufficient meals to get by running from you, you eventually became weak. You’d only think to go to the very new Shirai Ryu and collapse on their doorstep in a silent plea for mercy. Kuai Liang, the man he is, “sacrificed” himself for you to eat; it was the least he could do after you saved him. He and you formed an attachment this way when he let you keep coming back.

Inadvertently, you teach Kuai Liang to control flares in his temper. Whenever he gets angry or upset, it sounds comical but his blood quite literally boils; his blood takes a while to cool, and you’ll burn yourself if you don’t take caution. Whenever he wants to get angry at something/someone, he thinks of what that’d mean for you. Kuai Liang is almost too mindful of you when it comes to not just his emotions… A lot of his thoughts are about you. The bond you’ve formed with him turned soon into a relationship, and you both hit it off.

While Kuai Liang sleeps at night, you don’t. Because Vaeternians can’t necessarily see the sun (lest they want to die), it only makes sense that your kind is most active on cloudy days and nights. For a while you have to reassure him that you’re fine alone while you hunt; he’s not really the type to get jealous if you find someone else to eat from, because it’s food. However, he subtly suggests that if you’re unsuccessful or unsatisfied, you can come back to him. You remind him he’s your boyfriend. You’d hope so.

Kuai Liang installs blackout curtains in his room when or if you move in. For obvious reasons. He sacrifices getting up on time for a long while and becomes reliant on you to wake him up.

₊˚⊹꒷

You land, beating your wings twice to stabilize you on the grounds of the Shirai Ryu. The sky had turned a deep blue hue to reflect the sun rising east. You fold the wings inwards as you retreat just in time to hide away until nightfall again.

Were you sated tonight? Better than yesterday. But all of that adrenaline wanes when you step foot inside.

You’d fully expect to see Kuai Liang greet you, as he’d usually do—when it’s time to get up and work overlaps when you’re worked out and tired—but it’s quiet. Not eerily so, though. You continue to move silently until you find your shared space.

There, in bed, Kuai Liang hugs tightly a pillow.

It’s so pitch black in here and he’s still so sound asleep that you don’t think he realizes that’s not you. Lucky for him, he needs no longer a substitute. You change into more comfortable clothes than the ones you discard to the side.

Kuai Liang stirs when you slip into bed.

“Good morning,” you quietly singsong, and the sound of your voice has him abandoning the pillow with the quickness—tired eyes search the dark while hands feel for you, to which you humor. Kuai Liang forces you to bunch your wings impossibly further as he pulls you into him.

You shudder at the heat he radiates. “So warm…”

“I dreamt of you, that’s why,” Kuai Liang groggily jokes, burying his face into your collarbone where he sears kisses. “How was it?”

“Enough for now,” you answered, tangling your legs in his to plant yourself further in his embrace. “And I think I know how well you slept, so—ha—there’s that. Now it’s my turn.”

You feel Kuai Liang frown on your neck. He’s been needy lately and wants to stay and cuddle you away the whole day, but he can’t just leave things to poor Tomas. It’s not fair.

“Sorry, flames,” you frown yourself, apologizing for something not your fault. “Don’t rush to get things done, either. I’ll probably be staying tonight.”

“Did something happen?” Kuai Liang looks at you from where he is with light concern.

You deny. “Just want you.”

───

Kuai Liang wants you to wrap your wings around him more often.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

#mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #bi han x reader #bi han x you #bi han hcs #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x you #kuai liang hcs #vampirzina

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vonev · 9 months

Note

Hey there! Can you do a Miguel x spiderwoman reader where during a mission Miguel accidentally hurts you pretty badly while trying to get you out of the way of the anomaly, leaving you in a medically induced coma for a couple days while you heal? I wanna see an incredibly gentle, guilt-ridden Miggy visiting you when you wake up and treating you like you’re made of glass

Calling (just to save you, I'd give all of me)

Miguel O'Hara x reader Oneshot

Words: 6.06k (yeah i know)

Warnings: Graphics depictions of Violence, Angst, Blood and Violence.

Summary:

A mission gone wrong, some crying, more suffering, rocky relationships (emphasis on the rocky part)

And after all of it, you prevailed. With him.

Tl;dr: Miguel is a crybaby

It was a normal Tuesday night at the headquarters. 11 pm to be exact.

God knows why you stayed as long as you did—having to juggle missions upon missions the entire week because Miguel decided to loosely throw them at you.

Capturing what seemed like an endless sea of anomalies.

“You’re our most capable.” He had said, not even facing you when he once again sent you off on another job to fend for yourself.

Trying to ask to be replaced was met with a sounding “No.” from the big guy himself, so you stopped trying altogether.

Less questions, more work.

Even if the side of your ribs were bruised from the last encounter with a previous anomaly.

Whatever. Bringing your injury up would just have you end up being demeaned and insulted like a school kid who skipped last week’s homework. At least that was what you assumed.

You grew tired of it eventually, wanting to have more than 6 hours of sleep per day and being able to actually live your life—the birthday cake for a friend sat comfortably inside the fridge of your apartment lingers on your mind as you swung through the familiar sight of the city; another rendition of New York, another variant of an anomaly.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy the thrill and adrenaline that came with the job—no, you loved it. No one ever told you how fun being a superhero can be (aside from the decades of trauma you had to go through) and being able to propel yourself into the air with webs as the people below you gawked at your presence.

The New York breeze hit your figure like a welcomed embrace, the moon winked at you behind fading beds of clouds. You continue slingshotting yourself down the streets, deja-vu splashed in your face with how eerily similar the roads were to the ones back home; shaking your head, you let out a soft sigh and relish in the cold night’s wind.

Today’s mission: an unknown entity that plagued Earth 1610, the only information you were given via a loosely thrown together email from Miguel was that the entity could possess powers greater than we all understood—but with a limited amount of time, you would (hopefully) capture it just in time before it discovered its full potential.

You’d think with how smart the boss-man was, he wouldn’t send a sleep-deprived Spider into such missions with how severe things could turn if everything went wrong.

“I’ll send him an email to complain later, for sure.” You promised yourself; because you were supposed to do just that days ago when tasks started rolling in for you without breaks.

Solo-tasks, might you add.

A cherry on top of the already spoiled cake, salt on the wound, a slap to the face. You grunted, and an alarm sounding from nearby caught you by surprise amidst the (somewhat) quiet of the city. In the snap of a finger, you flung yourself in a different direction, changing the tides in the waves while the wind that hit your face came to a halt once you landed on a roof belonging to a rather tall building.

The viewing angle from above gave you a clear look into what had transpired underneath.

You squint, arms folded neatly in between your thighs as you crouched over the ledge of the building; from what you could see, nothing was amiss—everything looked to be in place. Letting out an annoyed scoff, you were about to turn on your tail before the ear-piercing sound of glass shattering into pieces hit your eardrums.

You immediately snapped around, and panic ensued when the people on the streets started screaming, running amok like wild animals scattering away into their safe spaces. You, on the other hand, now have to clean up the mess—you had no clue where this universe’s Spiderman was, nor did anyone brief you on it.

Nonetheless you approached the bust-up shop with a wavy heart, praying to something out there that there weren’t any critically injured persons. As you stalked near the front of the shop, you could hear loud banters inside; curious, you stare into the messy excuse for an interior: broken decors, smashed up shelvings, and items sprawled out across the floor inside.

You took the opportunity and shot yourself up to the ceiling, both your soles and fingertips clutching onto the surface, cautiously crawling further into the shop.

“Please—” a voice yelled out, “Just let me steal your ATM machine!”

Your lips part, dumbfounded.

“No! Ey! Get away from—” You finally managed to grasp the scene that played out in front of you.

The store manager was running around with a bat in his hands, and the other person that seemed to be wearing a costume with black spots, a jean jacket slung over his shoulders and a rather cute bucket hat. To your surprise, the man evaded the attack when a black hole had been summoned under the manager’s feet, causing him to fall into the portal and out of another one…

…Right above you.

You yelped at the sudden contact on your back, the manager’s weight had you both falling face first into the shards-filled floor; his body cushioned by yours.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

The man behind you rolled off, allowing you to take a step and collect yourself as you slowly stood up. Debris started filling up your senses, and the pain from having been cut by thousands of glass shards made you wince in response. You pushed it all down, needing to finish the job as soon as possible so you could flee from more missions when you go back to the headquarters.

You even considered retiring from your spot in the team.

Speaking of spots…

You peered up, eyes catching onto the odd appearance of the man in front of you, who was still attempting to find a way to escape with the ATM. If you hadn’t been as irritated and grumpy as you were, you’d have found the situation hilarious.

“You gotta let that go, big man.” He whipped his head around, eyes darting around before locking in on you. “I’m sorry, I can’t—wait, you look different from my Spiderman.” His head tilted in confusion; you only rolled your eyes in retort, not wanting to drag your already long day out. Webs shot out of your wrists, launching them toward the direction of his foot.

Watching in disbelief as another hole appeared right where his foot would’ve been, the webs flinging into the black void and you felt the substance land on your back, knocking your balance forward.

“What the,” confused, you feel around for it, your fingers finding the source, tracing the substance behind you. “How did you fucking do that?” You glared him down, seeing his stature falter and hands thrown up into the air in defense.

“Whoa whoa, language!” He wagged a finger at you, giving you his head shake of disapproval.

“Shut up.”

“That’s just plain rude, young lady—hold on, you’re a lady right?” Your eye twitched in annoyance.

“Has anyone ever said you’re way too chatty?”

He was fidgeting with his hands, looking away and feeling nervous, unsure of how to respond to your jab. Before he could get another word out, the bottom of your feet connected with his chest, sending his body back against the wall with a loud ‘thud’ watching as he fell on his backside.

“Oof.”

He let out a soft grunt, rubbing the sore spot on his butt; right before you did a chain-attack, he caught your foot with another one of his black holes, your foot now appearing on the other side of the store and out of sight.

“That wasn’t very nice. Listen, I just need some money, let me go and—” He threw the ATM onto a pile of cans and started rolling it out of your way, pushing the huge machine as fast as he could. Pulling back your foot in time, your calf connected with his face, making him trip over the cans comically with his arms flailing in the air.

You quickly reached down to fetch your trap to secure your win.

That would be too easy, though.

Side-stepping a portal of void that almost ate you up, you winced at the pain that shot through your ribs due to your rapid movements. Biting through the pain, you maneuvered to where his body laid and tackled him to the ground once more when he tried to stand up; from then on, it was a cat fight. With you trying to get him detained and him attempting to pry you off of him.

Suddenly, another hole manifested beneath the two of you, watching in horror as you both fell through and landed harshly on top of the rooftop you originally occupied prior; the back of your head collided into the concrete ground; a poor excuse for a cushion.

It fucking hurt.

You were pretty sure you smelled blood.

He tried to get up, but you tumbled the two of you near the ledge of the building; in the midst of all the actions, he found dominance over you when he had your upper body hanging off the ledge with his grip on the collar of your suit. Blood thumped through your eardrums along with the loud horns of traffic, your heart racing in a million miles, if anyone looked up, they'd think you were insane for getting yourself in the situation.

Maybe you are.

Call for backup.

It would be so easy; the gizmo hugged your wrist, just one push of a button and someone will be here—

Too late, his grip on you wavered and you plummet into the air.

Fuck.

You quickly attempt to shoot more webs to find purchase on something, anything.

But terror washed over you the second you realized you had conveniently run out of webbing fuel—being the dumbass you were, you had completely forgotten to get it refilled before the mission at the station back in headquarters.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the impact; your body going limp to soften the blow.

You let out a loud yelp when something flew out of the air beside you and clashed against your body, but you don’t feel the shock at the contact—instead, the warmth of a large arm wrapped around your midsection and you feel the cold wind whiplash you.

Opening your eyes, you were (pleasantly) surprised to find that Miguel caught you just in-time, right before you could suffer any more blunt injuries. You almost cried at the sight of him, his name teased the tip of your tongue, wanting to wrap your arms around him for a hug; you pulled yourself back just in time before you could react on your impulse.

You were still mad at Miguel, you have to act like it.

Before you know it, he came to a halt around a corner into an alleyway and swung down to place you down gently on the ground, your feet now free from the feeling of being dangled in the air. His eyes flickered over your face, then down your body; his arm still pressed into your waist as he squeezed your flesh out of instinct.

Bad move, the squeeze, no matter how gentle, pressed into your bruised rib. The pain sending a wave of shocks throughout your torso, you immediately pushed him away with a small hiss. You couldn’t see it, but hurt flashed through his eyes when you forced yourself out of his grip, his arm falling back to his side; unknowing of its purpose.

He wouldn’t willingly admit it, but the rare moments he would get to feel the heat of your body against him sent him to heaven: like that one time your shoulder pressed into his at the cafeteria, the times your naked fingers would brush over his skin, when your back used to press up on his during missions back in the days he went with you. Sinfully, he would recall that specific time your chest pushed into his torso during a stealth mission, the temptation to take you right there and then a devilish thought that circled his mind.

(Don’t ask what he had done in the shower after the mission debrief.)

That was part of the reason he had stopped frequenting jobs with you, even when you came into his office and invited him; you were met with rejections after rejections, soon enough, he noticed that you stopped trying—and the painful gnaw at his chest reminded him of your growing distant attitude with him, too. Miguel refused to let his personal life interfere with his business, and the last person he would want to hurt was you.

Unknowingly, he had done exactly that whenever he would gradually push your presence away.

Having meals weren’t the same anymore, not when you stopped showing up to his office everyday with his favorite food like a routine, he’d eat less and less as the days passed by; without you there to continuously pester him, he found himself reverting back to his old habits—working after late hours, not sleeping enough, not eating enough, barely talking to anyone unless absolutely necessary.

He had came to the realization that somehow, long ago, your presence had become such a grounding part of his life; the gentle yet persistent reminder that he deserved love and care too, to stop hogging all the responsibilities alone and share his burden with someone who he can trust, and it all manifested into you.

Miguel recognized he royally fucked up when you both barely see each other face-to-face anymore, you stopped showing up to debriefings, the only time he’d get to remotely speak to you was when he sent you off to missions.

He knew he was harsh, yes, but he fully believed in your capability to handle yourself—but while he was relentless, he still cared.

Hence why he arrived and interjected your mission, wanting to extend a helping hand.

“Fuck—what are you doing here?!” You shouted over the loud traffic, emotions taking control of your mind, before Miguel could protest, screams broke out from beside you both. “Shit, let’s get this over with, big man.”

You paused, momentarily forgotten that your webbings ran out of fuel and mentally slapped yourself in the face.

As if he read your mind, he fished out a tube from behind him and threw it your way. You caught it just in time and practically rushed to throw the lid off, tipping the mouth over to allow the liquid flow into the web gadget integrated into your suit. You threw a mumbled “thanks” his way and chucked the tube out of sight.

“Come on,” you nod toward the opening of the alleyway with an arm raised and pull yourself upward with your web.

It was supposed to be an easy job: brawl with the anomaly, win the brawl, capture it.

But this one was starting to grate your nerves—and you were sure Miguel felt the same too, you could sense the rage radiating off of his huge stature like sirens; chasing down the guy who had re-introduced himself as the Spot when you caught up with him earlier, unintentionally finding himself falling in and out of accidental portals he materialized.

“Stop running!” Yelling, you proceeded to jump into the portal he went through, he was always barely a hair away; yet as clumsy as he was, managed to get away every single time.

“Stop chasing me!” Spot shouted back, tripping over the back of his foot and almost falling into one of the portals entirely.

He managed to barely swerve out of the way when Miguel lunged at him from behind, his claws swooping in the air where Spot used to be. It became a constant back-and-forth; you would shoot yourself closer to him and Miguel would come from his back, essentially cornering him, then Spot would narrowly escape; rinse and repeat. Exhaustion crept up on you eventually, nagging the back of your mind as you tapped into your adrenaline to stay awake and alerted of your surroundings.

Miguel noticed it, too, and he went even harder—the intensity of his ferocity grew when he realized he had to end things soon before someone gets injured; he prayed to God it wouldn’t be you.

Somehow, more portals had opened up, and all you could do was avoid falling into them; the possibility of coming face first into the asphalt roads were too high for you to take the chance. Miguel almost got caught in one; hardly dodging a portal that conjured on the wall he stuck to. But unlike you, he was willing to test out his theory, reeling his body back to prepare launching himself into the portal. And he did just that—his reward? A high-five of his face with another set of walls.

He grunted, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted you latching onto Spot’s back; desperately trying to push him down onto a solid surface. You both spun into another portal and crashed on a different rooftop, Miguel rushed over with claws ravaging the innocent bricks he crawled on; when he went up, he saw the two of you gasping for air on the ground.

You clutched the side of your rib, an indescribable amount of pain overtook your senses; you were pretty sure your ankle was broken when it was caught on a pole. Spot got up earlier than you, and was about to speed off before he felt a large hand tugging at the back of his shirt.

It all happened so fast: reeling in a punch, the adrenaline pumping in Miguel’s veins, Spot’s utter shock at the face of Death himself, the supposed impact of the fist with the other’s face…

…Only for the force to be directed to you in the heat of the moment when a portal happened to manifest where Spot’s face would’ve been.

It was an accident, really, an unintentional line of actions from Spot— he was way too out of it when he figured he was about to go through his final moment; his portals shot out in panic, lucky for him, it was the reason he evaded Miguel’s death fist.

Unlucky for you, the other end of the portal had been right in front of you the whole time; yet in the midst of you processing your surroundings, you hadn’t realized quicker that your senses were screaming for you to dodge out of the way.

The conclusion? You, having just been punched in your guts, falling down a building amongst the New York you shouldn’t have stepped a foot in if you knew the outcome at all. The gust of wind pumped in your ears as you fell, and fell.

No worries—you’ve got your handy-dandy webs, right?

Oh how you wished you hadn’t been wrong.

Miguel had snatched a random refill off of his own shelf when he was about to depart, not bothering to check for its content after his recent use; just shy of a quarter, barely enough to last an average Spider’s fill an hour of webbing. In his defense, he had been distraught when Lyla popped in earlier to warn him of your vitals: most specifically your injuries. He would’ve never sent you out in the first place if he knew you suffered from broken ribs.

But all you knew was that you somehow fucked yourself over.

Panic ensued.

And now, you suffered the consequences of his actions.

“Miguel!” A call for help; he was your last hope.

The fall wasn’t a particularly long one, and you normally would breeze through the impact and pain like a champ—except you have never fell from a building with ribs that squeezed your organs tight, ankle that would most likely not support your landing even if you tried, the adrenaline you lived off of now benched on the side leaving you stranded for some form of strength to pull yourself together in the span of a few seconds.

Your shoulder hit the ground first, then your head; the harsh impact created a string of reactions to your already abused body: pain shooting up your nerves, the corners of your eyes dimming despite the bright lights flashing around you.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, policemen started showing up once someone reported a supposed break-in at the shop you investigated; the sound of blaring sirens filled your eardrums like honey whilst the flashing of red and blue assaulted your blurry sight.

Barely able to distinguish what was happening in front, you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbow; but the more you tried, the more lights started diminishing in your vision. Breathing has never felt so difficult, either.

Miguel was a step too late when he came to you; after having realized what had occurred, he dropped Spot in an instant like a hot potato, prioritizing saving you instead of proceeding with the mission’s objective. He was aware of the policemen being present at the scene when they started noticing your slumped body in the middle of the road, crowding together to watch as you struggled to lift yourself up—they all stood and observed, no one reached out to help, none.

He was by your side right away, his one hand supporting the weight of your head while the other clutching at the hem of your mask, lifting it over your eyes.

His hand felt…wet.

As if things couldn’t possibly get worse: he watched the stiff expression on your face contorted with pain, you seemed to have recognized him as you slowly reached a weak arm out to caress his face, your thumb gently glossing over his cheekbone, your touches light like feathers. His mask concealed the despair in his features, the hues of red and blues still shone on his back as everyone else stayed aside and spectated.

Your hand soon dropped to your side, unmoving, your head now heavier than ever in his hand.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Miguel held your small, delicate hand into his, the tears teasing the corner of his eye as he watched your life slipped by those eyes of yours he’d grown to adore.

“You can’t live like this, Miguel.”

Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, trailing Miguel’s tiny movements on the desk. His fingers delicately move across the keys on the keyboard, imputing password after password for locked files.

“Seriously,” Lyla sighed, rubbing her temple. “You’re starting to worry me.”

“Nothing to worry about, Lyla, get me the decoded files from yesterday.” Miguel ignored her pestering, choosing to focus on his work and his work only.

That was his routine for the past 5 days or so.

After the entire slip-up in Earth 1610, Miguel had been busting his ass to hunt down the anomaly for every hour he was awake; granted, he did take care of other responsibilities too—babysitting Mayday on Monday, depatching teams to bring back more anomalies, and visiting you every day.

And also dealing with that kid he found out to be the Spider-man from Earth-1610.

He hadn’t missed a single day of visiting you, who still laid in the hospital bed at the infirmary he cleared out for you.

Everyday. On the clock. 5 am when he woke up, when lunchtime struck, and in the late hours of night when he should be spending on getting enough rest.

Lyla had been there through it all, watching Miguel’s tormented back every single minute he was awake as he continuously starved himself off of the bare minimums.

Food, water, sleep, you name it all.

And as his assistant, his well-being was her number one priority—hence the constant pestering that would be swatted away, food that went cold despite Peter having brought them in hours ago upon Lyla’s request and his growing concern for his friend in the chair. Jess’s occasional visits to check up on Miguel, wondering if the day she stepped in would be the day she would see his lifeless body on the desk with how much neglect he reflected on himself. Even the new recruits dropped in to say hello, just to see that he was doing…okay in his book: which was not okay in everyone else’s.

Everyone was worried.

About you, of course, and him too.

The situation had clearly taken a heavy toll on him.

But Lyla understood more than anyone else that it wasn’t because of his work, his dwelling traumatic past, or how he barely had any rest for the past 120 hours.

No one else knew of his infatuation with you except for her—and that was only because she snooped through his things, finding the little knit-knacks he kept from all those times you came and dropped it off: the tiny Miguel plushie you made when you impulsively decided to take up knitting that one time, the shirt of yours you had forgotten to take back when you visited his office at late hours, soaked from the rain outside and sneezing everywhere.

“Hey Mig—“ sneeze. “I came to see y—“ sneeze. “I—“ and you sneezed.

“For the love of God,” Miguel turned around, seeing your soaked clothes that cling to your body, and having to turn away for just a tiny moment to compost himself when he caught sight of your curves.

Groaning, he pulled out one of his drawers and shuffled through and fished out a new shirt—undoubtedly his with how large it was.

His shirt was a sight on you, fitting perfectly yet still draping over your thighs just slightly when you went to get changed.

The image of you that night burned into his head, forever engraved in his brain.

Then there was the polaroid picture of the two of you when you had forced Miguel to “take a selfie with me!” when you picked up a weirdly shaped camera from a thrift store in your universe (something something you saying to be smart and conserve money). “It’s called InstaX, it—here, let me show you” and snapped a picture.

In the picture, his expression was one of annoyance, and you were squeezed against his shoulder with a toothy grin on your face.

Lyla saw how Miguel would come back with tiny frames that he thought would frame the film perfectly, but ultimately was defeated when he decided to just stick it in-between the pages of his files labeled: Classified.

She was the only one ever to know the content inside: mostly pictures of Gabriella’s (poor) baking, first day at school, when Gabriella won her first competitive soccer match; and then there was you.

She knew how important you were to him; yet to her complete and utter confusion, Miguel always kept to himself about his little (big) crush—even though she could clearly tell you were just as interested as he was, too.

He was the densest man you had the pleasure of knowing.

He never made a move; and now, he might never get another chance to.

Now you were reduced to a sitting duck, once a shell of what you were; your body laid in the bed he frequented more than his own, the lively demeanor that you carried with you before turned into a tune of stable heartbeats beeping from the machinery installed next to you: the only indicator you were still alive.

Guilt was the only thing he knew for a while; when he’d step into the shower as the cold water bit the skin of his back, like he was willingly punishing himself for allowing that incident to happen.

Everywhere he went, whatever he did, he was only reminded of your face.

“If only I had been there sooner.”

He’d say to himself while he peered down at your figure, not there but, there. You were barely hanging, and part of him knew that it was your determination to fight through whatever battle was going on inside your head during the coma.

“Por favor,” his hand held yours, careful to avoid the IV’s that pricked your skin, forehead sticky with sweat after having just come back from a specifically tough mission that day.

“Concédeme este deseo.”

He would whisper sweet-nothings to you, praying to himself at night by your bedside that you’d wake up one of these days with that smile he yearned for. And for someone to finally share the extra empanadas he would always bring in, to hope that one day, you’d get to share this joy with him.

The joy of eating together again.

So imagine his surprise when he walked into your room tonight, and found you sat up with the metal frame supporting your back.

You were awake.

And most importantly, you were alive.

He had never sprinted so fast in his life; the warm pack of empanadas he brought from the cafeteria drop to the floor, the gentle ‘thud’ catching your zoned out self by complete surprise, your face softened once your gaze landed on Miguel; who was frantically patting your face and checking your vitals to confirm that yes, you are here.

Your hand reached up to palm his that lingered on your cheek, his eyes finally settled on you, slowly taking in the fact that you were now right there in front of him.

“Miguel,” a small knowing smile tugged at your lips, your eyes the most gentle he’d ever seen. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

He was still so afraid, so afraid that you would just slip by his fingers again; so he held onto you for dear life, fingers gripping your one cheek and hand with the others.

“Estoy tan contenta de que estés aquí,” You whispered.

A soft quiver of his lips; barely there—that was when the dam broke, and his tears started flowing down his sullen cheeks.

You panicked, wondering if you had butchered your Spanish so bad you shamed him to tears.

“I’m…I’m sorry?” You tilt your head in confusion and worry. Miguel only shook his head, a small chuckle emitted from him; as if he knew what you had been thinking.

“Don’t be sorry, silly.” He looked up at you with those earnest eyes of his; ones that melt your heart and warm your soul. You’d taken a liking to him early on; though you weren’t sure when it started, only where it started: during a mission, when the two of you grew physically close, so close.

His breaths fanning down your face, your breathing grew heavy with each and every second; that was when you knew you were in too deep.

You would know it’d take heaven and hell to pull you apart from this man.

There he kneeled, lips on the back of your hand as his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone, enjoying the way hues of red spread out on your cheeks.

There was no way of escaping it now: the pent up tension of a confession teasing the air around you both, and soon, one of you was bound to crack.

“I have something to tell you—“

“I have something to say—“

Only that you both did it at once, together.

Miguel stared at you, lips slightly parted with the ghost of his words and eyes widened, then he cracked into a fit of roaring laughter—and you joined in.

Laughter filled what was once a room only occupied by the sound of your heartbeats on the machine, the two of you clutched each other’s hand, the high soon dying down to mere giggles; as if you two were high-school sweethearts with muffled chuckles thrown at each other in the back of the class.

You two were in your own little world, a bubble that secured around your bodies, forever molding the shape of what once was and what will be.

Wiping away the happy tear in your eye, you stared at Miguel’s devilishly handsome face, and the gorgeous smile you oh-so-rarely get the privilege of seeing. The muted rhythm of his chest rising and falling, in sync to yours, like two lovers on the dance floor—not even the sky could stop your love for each other.

“I love you.”

You blurted out; sure, you were 98% certain Miguel reciprocated your feelings, but that small node of anxiety still tugged at the back of your mind, terrified that you misunderstood his gestures all these times.

But wouldn’t the words he whispered to you during your sleep be all washed away if that was true?

It was a risk, and you took it; it was now or never.

“I—“ Miguel stammered, his heart screaming at him to just lean in and—

—kiss you.

His lips were nothing like you’d ever imagine; it was all the best parts multiplied by infinity: soft, full of all the love he had to give, and passionate.

The kiss lasted for what felt like eternity—part of you wished it did, and you’d be content to die like this, your lips forever engraved on his.

Miguel swore he heard the choir sung to him, albeit with crooked notes; but maybe because he did.

He slowly turned around, and you, who also does the same.

His colleagues had been quietly watching all this time from behind the doors: Peter with Mayday in tow as she cooed at the sight, Jess and that motherly smile of hers—Miles, Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr all stood with heads peeking through the gap of the doors. Even Lyla was there, although she simply floated over Peter's shoulder, joining in on the choir; their mouths agape with barely harmonized tunes of a holy song slipping out of their mouths. Amateur at best, unbearable at worst.

Pavitr carried with the vocals, as always.

They only stopped once they realized they had been caught; thinking that you two were in too deep to notice that there were more guests coming.

“What…are you guys doing here?” Miguel asked, his tone more of a threat than a genuine question.

“We got some food—“ Peter perked up, but was instantly cut off by Hobie.

“‘o watch some sappy romance, ‘ey boss man?” Hobie high-fived Lyla's glitchy hologram, the latter wearing a smirk too wide for her face and nodding aggressively.

“Do the shoulder trick!” Miles yelled out; Gwen looked at him in horror then back to Miguel, this time, it was her who was shaking her head aggressively while crossing her arms into a giant X shape.

Miguel snarled at Miles, not appreciating the cheesy suggestion of a pick-up line while everything went so well for him before they all busted in.

“Remember to host a Sangeet bro! Oh Gayatri is super good at doing Henna—“

“Hey I wanna be the flower girl!” Gwen piped up.

“No, Miguel told me long ago Mayday would be—“

“She’s not even old enough, Peter, can she even throw a fistful of flowers?” Gwen crossed her arms in protest.

“I’ll have you know she’s an extremely capable baby, right, Mayday?” Peter looked down, only to see that Mayday had once again been chewing on his pink robe like always, blabbering with spit foaming at her mouth.

“Oh Christ—“ Jess chuckled at the absurdity of the sight, a hand on her hip and the other tracing soothing circles on her belly; just as Miguel had been doing it with your hand the entire time.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh knowing that the special moment between the two of you had been ruined by a bunch of nosy gremlins.

Your hand went up to remove his hand from his face, and even with how (incredibly) noisy the room became with banters and bickering thrown around; it was all quiet with him, only the stable heartbeats of you both reached your ears.

For once, your life was complete.

Miguel glanced into your eyes, the adoration swarmed your orbs; behind them, he could see far into the future where you both exist, always beside each other like glue to a paper—with you on his hips and his on yours.

And at last, Miguel had found what he had been missing from his life.

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Author's note: Thank you so much for this suggestion Anon, it's my first one ever and I hope i did not disappoint u.u, I LOVED writing this and it got me tearing up reminiscing some fictional (sexy) mexican man. Hope u enjoyed!

ps: pls excuse the spanish i only have spanishdict as my holy grail (pls also DO correct me if needed!)

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phantasmagoria-in-neverland · 9 months

Note

Hihi! :) could I please request some headcannons for various star wars boys with a really short reader? (Your star wars boys marriage headcannons was so good it urged me to send you this ask hehe 😆)

Various Star Wars Boys Headcanons: With a Short! Reader.

A/N: Hi, thank you so much! I am super sorry for the hella long wait, but unfortunately, between school and work I've had absolutely zero free time. Hope you'll still enjoy this anyway! Also, I fell like I should point out that there are mentions of wearing heels in a few of the headcanons, but it's all still very gender neutral.

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, The Mandalorian\Din Djarin, Poe Dameron, Cal Kestis.

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

-Obi-Wan will probably not even notice your height for quite a while, he's not one to really pay attention to physical appearances. He will only realise how tall he is compared to you once he starts to develop feelings for you, and even then he will never treat it like a big deal. Might not even mention it unless you do it first.

-Appreciates when you wear heels, not because he thinks you look prettier with them on, he always thinks you're stunning no matter what, but because it really helps his neck and back to not have to lean\look down quite as much. Forgive him, he's not quite as spry as he used to be.

-But if you wear them because you feel insecure about your height? Obi-Wan will do anything he can to dissuade you from wearing them. Whether with more subtle comments or with showers of compliments, he will absolutely not rest until he is sure you know how amazing you are.

-If you were to try and climb something because you cannot reach a high place, Obi-Wan will insist on doing it for you. He usually never stops you from doing things on your own, mostly because he doesn't want to overstep; Independence is important and no matter how much he'd rather do everything for you, he knows you have lived most of your life without him, and you are more than capable of looking after yourself, but he really can't refrain himself from helping you when there's a chance you might injure yourself. If you really want to do it on your own, he will understand, but please, for his sake, won't you at least let him stand behind you so that he could catch you if you were to fall?

-Obi-Wan is notoriously almost impossible to fluster, he is too mature and also, but that is something reserved only for you, too suave for it, and although you might have tried in the past, you have never quite found his weakness. Until one day, without even thinking about it, you decided to wear his robe. The instant he came home and saw you, he flushed to the tip of his ears. He is still going to at least try and keep his composure to compliment you as he usually would, but stars above you're killing him.

He's definitely going to stay closer than usual for the rest of the day, and for as shy as he has suddenly gotten, he won't refrain himself, because that wouldn't be fair to you, from showering you in appreciation, just don't tease him or you might actually give him a heart attack. He really isn't used to this after all.

-Even if you are not insecure about it, Obi-Wan will never tease you about your height. Even when he pokes some lighthearted fun at you, he always makes sure to steer clear of the more "serious" things like personality or appearance. He never wants to risk actually hurting you.

-Obi-Wan absolutely takes the time to help you find shops that sell petite clothing options. Whenever he's travelling, be it with you or because he's on a mission, if he finds himself in a city or market he will make sure to keep both of his eyes open.

He also keeps a list of all the places he deems good enough, with little scribbled stars next to the ones he's positive you'd like. He knows how difficult finding your size tends to be for you, and that more often than not you end up having to make alterations anyway, so he's really glad to make that tedious job easier.

-When the two of you walk next to each other Obi-Wan always watches his strides. A step for him equates to two for you, and he never wants you to get tired by running after him.

Anakin Skywalker:

-Considering his height Ani can, and 100% will, hold the things you were trying to reach for so high above your head that no amount of stretching will be of any help. Don't worry, he's going to give them back even immediately… as long as you are willing to pay the ransom. Which will always consist in a kiss, it is so unoriginal that at some point you started doing it before he even got the chance to ask.

If you were ever to suggest that he could simply ask for a kiss, you're going to hear a minutes long rant about why he's definitely not going to do that, and how could you make him renounce his fun, he's already a Jedi, have some compassion.

-While hugging Anakin you will be lifted off the ground, and more often than not spun around too. It doesn't matter at all how much you weight, you're still so small, and honestly, he could hold you close for hours on end if he got the chance, do you really expect him to stay bent down for that long? Still, you can definitely tell that he not-so-secretly loves your height difference, even when he uses this as a chance to poke some lighthearted fun at you.

-Being the voice of reason in your relationship comes with the slight downside that Ani can't stand when your arguments make more sense than his, especially if you start sounding like Obi-Wan. He is not going to get angry at you, but when he's annoyed, he definitely becomes aggravating.

Especially because he loves to pretend that he can't hear you when you're making a good point. What do you expect him to do, he's so tall, and you're so short, of course he can't hear you, maybe you should get a megaphone or better yet, a ladder. On a strangely positive note, if you kick his shins to make him bend down and listen, he's not even going to pretend to be upset about it, but he is going to laugh.

-If all your climbing skills are getting displayed while you're trying to reach something that is a little too high and Anakin is there to witness, you will surely hear cheers and a little too loud encouragements being thrown at you. For once, he's not actually being embarrassing on purpose, and he will help you if you ask him to, but he won't offer to aid you himself, why should he? He knows you're more than capable of doing it on your own, and anyone with even a slight Force affinity would be able to tell that he is more than ready to catch you, but he’d much rather clap for you once you've managed it on your own.

-Ani couldn't care less if you can kick his ass into next week with your eyes closed, he still feels like he needs to shield you from all the dangers of the world. Well, to be honest, he'd still feel that way no matter your height, but he'd be lying if he said that your small stature doesn't intensify his need to hold you close and never let go. Also he really loves feeling like your protector, it makes him feel needed.

-If you are ever at a concert, event or any other situation that would require you to look at something while in the middle of a crowd, Anakin will either find you a place where you can actually see, or straight up lift you over his shoulders. He doesn't wait for you to ask, and he never complains, and if anyone else tries to make a mean comment about it, he's gonna give them a single look that will make them instantly shut up.

Luke Skywalker:

-Luke always leans or sits down when he's talking to you, he doesn't want to make you feel like he's towering over you, or for you to have to bend your neck to look up for too long.

-Like father like son, Luke will also pick you up while hugging you, but accidentally. He doesn't even realise the moment your feet start lifting off the ground, and in all probability neither did you, not when you're both melting into each other. If you point it out, he will immediately lower you back down and apologise, and although he will definitely be more careful, he isn't going to let go, he has no problem being the one to bend down.

-Luke has no problem whatsoever with your height, and he pretty much forgets about it most of the time. But there are other times, like when you're curled up while sleeping and you look so small, or when the two of you are holding hands and his engulfs your own, or when you have to ask him to bend down for a kiss, that he can’t refrain himself from finding you… adorable. He never says that out loud in case it might hurt your feelings, or make you think that he doesn't realise what a force of nature you are, but you might still figure it out anyway, when he looks at you like you're the most precious thing he has ever seen.

-On that same note, Luke will absolutely melt if you ever wear something of his. Whether it is a shirt that reaches almost all the way to your knees, or his robe that he gives you when you're cold within which you almost disappear, has little importance, either way his face is going to tint red and a lovesick smile is going to spread across his face, no matter how many times he has seen you before.

-If you ever were to hide behind him for whatever reason, he is going to get comically proud of himself, but really, Luke doesn't often get the chance to feel big and strong, and although he definitely is, he is also often underestimated until he proves himself, also, most of the people he cares for are fighters to the core and extremely independent, so he doesn't often get the chance to be a protector and he will admit without shame, that it feels really nice to know that you look to him for reassurance.

-When you are walking together through a thigh packed crowd, Luke will stand in front of you and shield you with his body. It is one of the very rare times where he doesn't ask for your permission to do something for you, of course you could do it without him, but if he can spare you from even just a single push or elbow to the ribs, if he can prevent even a single bruise, than to him it is worth your indignation. But if you were to thank him for being thoughtful? He's a goner.

Han Solo:

-It goes without saying that Han wouldn't be Han if he didn't always have a ‘short’ joke ready.

Although he is uncharacteristically optimistic when facing impossible odds, any other time his cynicism is his most predominant feature, so, say you were to say something along the lines of “Everything is going to be alright.” his response would be that “Of course you're an optimist, you're always looking up.”

Or if you were to pick a fight with a guy, Han would not be able to stop himself from remarking that “Honestly sweetheart, you should go for it, i'll even bet on you. Of course I've got faith in you! You're the perfect height to punch where it'll hurt most.” before getting the two of you out of the situation.

And of course the evergreen classic “How's the weather down there, Sweetheart?”

-Han calls you anything except your name. His preferred nickname for you is always ‘shortcake’, no matter how serious the circumstances. But, in a situation where your small stature is actually useful, maybe because you fit into a tight space, he will add 'Vertically Efficient’ in front of it; Likewise, when your height ends up hindering you, which let's be honest happens far more often than not, you will get demoted to 'Vertically Challenged Shortcake’. The man is ruthless.

-Han rests his arm on your head often. He doesn't even always do it to jab at you, he genuinely finds it a comfortable position, and I’m not sure whether that makes it better or worse. But he also, when the two of you are alone and he is feeling soft, rests his chin on your head and holds you close.

And let's not forget the forehead kisses, so many forehead kisses. It's easier than bending down to kiss your lips, especially if he is in a hurry, and it also has the bonus point of being the easiest place to reach while he is holding you to his chest.

-Han can, and without a doubt will, pretend to lose you if you find yourselves in a crowd, and he will find it absolutely hilarious. You could be standing right in front of him, maybe even be screaming at him that you are right there and to stop being an ass, and he would still look everywhere except down. If he actually ends up upsetting you, Han will grumble for a few minutes before trying to make it up to you, he really is sorry, he just never knows when to stop.

-As I said before, Han can be quite a bit of an ass when he wants to be, and when it comes to you, oftentimes even when he doesn’t actually intend to be mean. Unfortunately for the both of you, old habits die hard, and it is not rare for him to accidentally piss you off, especially when he gets a great laugh at your expenses.

Like the times he catches you struggling to reach something, and ends up finding your efforts hilarious. You’d have to plead with him for a while, before he makes any move to come to your rescue, and even then he won’t stop laughing until you get angry, you just might end up avoiding asking him all together, and find a solution by yourself.

When Han sees how crafty you can get to reach what you want, he will be genuinely quite impressed, but the best thing that will come out of his mouth will be something along the lines of “I've really gotta hand it to short people… because you usually can't reach it anyway.”

-Sure, Han might tease you to death, but Force help anyone else who dares to, especially if they actually hurt your feelings. He is ready to throw hands without a second of hesitation, and he will make the offender apologise.

The Mandalorian\ Din Djarin:

-Din never, ever, lets you get on your tippy toes or stretch your neck to kiss him. He will always bend down before you can even try to reach him, you'd almost think he has developed a sixth sense about it, and no matter how much you complain that he must already be tired and that it is no good for his back, he always shrugs and insists that he'd much rather it be his neck rather than yours. He'll forget all about it as soon as your lips touch his anyways, so he really doesn't mind.

-For as terrible as it sounds, Din is quite used to the child's height already, and although you are nowhere nearly as short, it simply means that he is already attuned to looking out for someone much smaller than him. He knows without even having to think about it whether something is a little too high up for you to reach, he instinctively looks for the smallest chair for you to sit on so that your feet won't be left dangling, and is just overall very aware of your size. In a good way, I swear.

-On kind of the same note, every time you wear heels, even more so if it isn't often, he instinctively looks lower than needed to meet your eyes. Din can get quite embarrassed about it and he always tries to adjust his stare as subtly as he can, and although his visor does help, it is not rare for you to catch him raising his head a little. It ends up looking quite silly, mostly because of how unnecessarily hard he tries to hide it, and you end up laughing at it a few times.

-Absolutely no climbing will happen under this man's watch, you could try to while he's asleep and he'd probably still get up to stop you, as I said before, he kind of has a sixth sense about it, it's the dad in him.

Din has no problem at all going out of his way to get you what you need, you won't even have time to try before it's already in your hands, especially if it stops you from trying to balance on three awkwardly piled stools, a cardboard box, a cluster of random objects he doesn't even understand how they're supposed to help, and way too many hopes and prayers. Honestly, he has seen this happen one time exactly, and it took twenty years off of his lifespan. Never again.

-Din truly doesn't want to underestimate you, your height doesn't make you fragile in any way, he knows that, but he still ends up being extra protective of you. One of the things he is the most glad for, is that your shorter stature makes it easier for him to cover you with his body. He's always wearing full body armour, and you most probably aren't, which is why he always thanks the stars every time someone is shooting at the two of you and him moving in front of you is enough to make you practically disappear.

-Din might not be a tailor, but he has mended his fair share of clothing throughout his life, and has become quite adept at it as well. And although he might not be able to make you clothes from scratch, he is more than able, and willing, to help you alter pretty much anything. Sawing with you, chatting about the day's events, maybe while enjoying the calming scenery of a beautiful planet as the child plays just a few meters away, has become one of his favourite ways to spend time with you and simply unwind.

Poe Dameron:

-Poe carries you around constantly, so much so that you fear you might forget how to use your own legs. He insists that considering you always end up on him one way or another, and it is mostly by his own doing with how much he likes having you close, you might as well enjoy the free rides.

But honestly, he kind of lacks the patience to slow down his steps so that you won't have to run after him, especially when he's particularly excited about something. Not that he wouldn't do it of course, he does, but to him it's much more convenient to just scoop you up and hurry to where you want to go.

-At times, when he can't refrain himself from teasing you, Poe will ask you to repeat what BB8 said, that he obviously understood just fine, because: “you can hear him better from down there”.

His jokes are never mean, and it is rare that he mentions your height at all, but when he does, most of the time it's something along the lines of him hugging or kissing you, and then remarking that he is “appreciating the little things”.

-Poe thinks you are absolutely adorable, and he will say so to your face. With him, no pride will be spared, at all. Why would he anyway, sure, your small stature makes you really cute, but why should that take away from your capability to kick ass? He is a firm believer in taking pride in every aspect of oneself, and when it comes to the greatest person he knows, he wants you to be proud of all that you are.

-On that same note, he will heavily dissuade you from wearing heels if you only do it because you are insecure of your height. You are stunning, and he reminds you of that every chance he gets, short or tall, you are always radiant, no need to be unnecessarily uncomfortable.

He also not so secretly loves your height difference, but that has nothing to do with his unconditional appreciation of you, although he really does like how well you fit into his chest when he holds you.

-Poe is the type to straight up ask you to wear his clothes. He doesn't know what the word subtle means, and he is really big on communicating what he is feeling and what he likes, so he sees no reason not to outright tell you how hot you look in his oversized shirts. If he already cannot keep his hands to himself for the life of him, be prepared to have him practically glued to your side the entire time you are donning his clothes.

-Poe will panic if he cannot find you in a crowd. The moment he loses sight of you he is in ‘rescue mode’, even though you are probably not in any danger, nobody kidnapped you in the half second he took his eyes off of you, and you in all likelihood did not get trampled by the crowd.

It is a bit better if he just lost you at base, he is at least sure you aren't in mortal peril then, but he might still resort to climbing something and call your name to find you as fast as he can. Yes, the people around you will think him insane, and yes, you might be tempted to pretend you do not know him, but please let him know you are alright, poor boy is worried.

-If you are having trouble reaching something, Poe will just lift you up and down to get it. Sure, he could get it for you, and that would be easier, but he doesn't want to do it in your place, unless you ask of course, he's simply trying to be the safer version of climbing a stool. It's also pretty much a constant ‘Simba moment’, which he finds hilarious.

Cal Kestis:

-Every time he's tired Cal rests his chin on your head, and whenever you are tired, you rest your head against his shoulder. You two are so adorable that it's enough to give everyone who sees you diabetes. Jokes aside, Cal is all about these casual, lighthearted displays of affection, and the fact that you two fit together so nicely is a great bonus.

-Unlike Han, Cal might actually forget to look down if he lost you in a crowd. He isn't trying to tease you, and he finds you quite quickly anyway, but he does have a tiny moment of confusion if he can hear you or sense you, but can't see you. He's going to laugh at himself for a while when he finally looks down and sees you standing there with a disappointed face.

You'd think that, like Din, he would be used to BD-1’s height, but his little companion is perched on his shoulder most of the time, so Cal might actually try to look behind himself before remembering to look down.

-Cal doesn't immediately come to your 'rescue’ when you're trying to reach something that's a little too high, even if you start climbing, simply because he doesn't want to overstep. You've got it, he knows that. He's just going to continue with whatever he is doing, while also keeping you in the corner of his eye, in case of a fall, and his ears open in case you do call for his help, in which case he will be by your side in a second.

-Cal never means to tease, but at times he might end up doing it accidentally. It's never mean, and it's usually just lighthearted comments about how small you are, never in a negative way. But if you do find it irritating, or you'd simply rather not hear it, you will only have to express it to him once, and he will do his damned best to watch his mouth from there on out.

-Cal has the time of his life anytime someone underestimates you, whether it is a physical type of fight or a verbal smackdown, he is just glad he gets to be present for it. Seeing them starting out all smug and full of confidence and then watching you kick their, literal or metaphorical, ass into next Thursday never fails to have him in stitches.

He also might or might not end up accidentally, and dramatically, quoting Shakespeare to them, something like "And though she be but little, she is fierce", it's up to you to decide whether you find that flattering or terribly embarrassing.

-Cal always, and I do mean always, wants to share earbuds with you. It's pretty much his unofficial love language, and he has a whole lot of playlists he made for you to listen to together on different occasions. He has a special soft spot for walking around hand in hand, enjoying the sights, and listening to your favourite songs. And he's not going to renounce to this little tradition even when all you have are wired earbuds, and your height difference means he has to walk leaning to the side the whole way. Sure, his back might hurt in a few hours, but the happiness he feels when the two of you get to relax in your shared little world is way more than worth it.

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hxltic · 4 months

Text

Imagine being the anonymous girl Suna gets absolutely infatuated with at a friend’s party.

🎶 BLAME IT (CLUB MIX)- JAMIE FOXX (FEAT. T-PAIN)

🎶 NEW FLAME- CHRIS BROWN (FEAT. USHER & RICK ROSS)

YOU

He’s sitting comfortably on the couch amongst a group of other guys when you walk in. He doesn’t spot you yet since you direct yourself to the kitchen. Once you return with a drink in your hand, something light and fruity, it’s easy to locate who the coordinator of the party is, considering the entire living room revolves around their friend group and whatever game was on the TV.

Yeah the rest of them were attractive, you observe, but they clearly knew it, talking all loud and sending not-so-subtle flirts to the slightly tipsy girls around them.

Except him. He sat with his arm thrown over the back pillows, other hand grasping the solo cup as the music blares.

His dark brown hair falls over his low eyes, and it looks like he hasn’t said a single word— only sending small nods and lifting his lip the slightest bit into a smile every now and then.

Your thigh-high boots imperceptibly clack on the wood floor with your entrance, but the man’s eyes tell you he hears it. He’s sharp to his senses, making no question there isn’t alcohol in his system.

•———•

SUNA

His friends aren’t discussing anything in particular, just enjoying themselves, some even too much. Nobody was really watching the game anyway.

“Sunarin, ‘yer quiet today,” Atsumu turns to check up on him. He’s not as drunk as he usually gets around this time of night, so his intentions are good.

Aran retorts, “He’s always quiet,” shooting a quick message and taking another swig of his drink.

“Not really. He gets worse than me sometimes.”

This causes Suna to lift his back from the cushion of the couch to defend himself, inducing a hearty laugh from Atsumu (that would laugh at anything).

“Woah woah, let’s not go that far; I’ve seen you butt-ass naked on several unwarranted occasions.”

Atsumu shrugs and Suna rests his case, returning to his previous position, shaking his head at the audacity of the accusation, and bringing the cup to his lips. He resumes what he does best: watching.

It was a good sized party, and usually he knows who will show up, but when he heard you and felt the unknown presence, he knew he hadn’t ever seen you before. If he had, he wouldn’t have to stare as long as he did.

The boots accentuated your legs, stopping at your mid thigh and leaving about two inches of space between that and your tight leather skirt. The material was clinging to your skin in a desperate attempt to cover what it’s supposed to.

Your thighs were big even under the ruched fabric as well. Were you an athlete? Why hadn’t he seen you on campus?

Suna went to take another sip, but this time, the cup lingered at his mouth for a larger amount of time. As he trailed his eyes up your body, admiring the dip of your breasts into the low-cut, long sleeve shirt that was perfect for the cooler seasons in comparison to the bras and single strands of clothes he’s seen, all he’s thinking about is the best way to throw those long legs over his shoulders and which way to flick his tongue to make your hips twist. In fact, they sway back and forth when you walk.

Your plush lips reach the cup in your own hand as you sit on the smaller accent couch to the left of him. The thighs he loves must multiply when you cross your legs one over the other and they smash together, but Suna never even knew legs were a turn-on until he saw you.

Little did he know, the most sober of his friends followed his eyes.

He leans in close, “Fuck, look at that. An absolute dime if I’ve ever seen one.”

Suna ignores him, humming half-assedly in response— but if he would have known he would take it as encouragement, he wouldn’t have done anything at all.

“Hold on.”

He rises from his seat, stalking over to you. The brunette watches the whole thing unfold. A classic.

He holds a hand out in hopes you’ll take it. You do.

He uses the opportunity to take a seat and ask you about your day or where you’re from. You answer.

He brushes your hair behind your ear, mainly because it usually works.

Of course the irritation bubbles in his stomach, but it dies down as quickly as it came. Because he notices things his friend doesn’t.

Your shoulders are tense. Your smile doesn’t even reach the one you walked in with. The leg underneath the top one bounces. And the whole time, you were looking directly at Suna.

A shameless, intrigued stare the two of you shared. The conversation with the man beside you couldn’t have been interesting enough to engage in, but you’d probably feel bad, so you giggle fakely at him every now and then and nod your head. He raises your hand (that he never let go) and brings it to his lips.

Suna’s pride swells when you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you gaze through eyes that haven’t fell from you since you walked in. With one last sip of his drink, Suna tests you, placing the empty cup on the coffee table in front of him while simultaneously grabbing his phone off it. This darts your eyes away and they trail along his movements, negating any doubts he possessed.

Suna smiles one last time and comes to his feet. If you were feeling anything like he was, you would follow behind him.

•———•

YOU

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” You smile at the man before you sweetly. Poor thing, you don’t even remember his name.

Coincidently, he points the direction the mysterious guy went, asking if he needed to lead you there. Your hand pats lightly on his as you tell him it’s okay.

You clench the bag between your fingers and dodge through the crowd of people, only barely being able to keep the head of brown hair in your view. He didn’t even look back.

Finally, he opens the sliding door to the backyard and turns the corner. Of course, you follow.

It’s a little chilly even with only a few inches of your body out when you push the glass to the right, then turn around and close it behind yourself. You observe your surroundings: surprisingly taken care of grass with fallen leaves scattered around, a grill on the pavement, a fence going around the area. The only thing it’s missing are the lounge chairs.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you turn your head to the voice in the dark of night as he approaches you leisurely, “I’d say you were following me.”

His lip lifts upwards once reveals himself under the patio light. He doesn’t stop until he’s less than a foot from you, taller than you’d imagine him sitting down and even more overwhelming when you’re alone.

You retort, making sure to cross your arms and tilt your head just as he did his, “Oh come on. You mean to tell me you didn’t plan this?”

His eyes flicker to your arms, then your chest.

You remind him, “My eyes are up here.”

This catches his attention, eventually morphing his smile into a downturned one. Then he’s moving again, pushing his arms back, shrugging the jacket off, and reaching around your body to throw it over your shoulders.

It was then you realized. You had falsely accused him of thinking about something he shouldn’t be.

•———•

SUNA

He was definitely thinking about something he shouldn’t have been.

He should have never looked down.

The hanging gold jewelry rested just before the divot of your breasts. It was then he noticed the bumps prickling at your skin that signify your temperature, but even though there was good intent, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about other things that would rest perfectly between them. His hand— the tent growing in his black jeans, perhaps.

Your cheeks flush red at the gesture, and the embarrassment shows itself in the lightness of your voice when you tell him thank you. You press your arms through the jacket and leave it unzipped.

“You can’t get embarrassed on me now.” Suna brings his finger to pinch under your chin. He brushes away the hair in your face from the cool breeze, making you close your eyes as a reflex, then stuffs the hand in his pocket. “Saw the way you were looking.”

And maybe he should have kept the hair there. And maybe he should have stayed in his seat. Because now when your eyes flutter open as he looks down at you, closer, willfully giving him control, he sinks in orbs that could easily end a man. They swam with want, still managing to be big and deer-like even with the desire lurking behind them. The only way he knew it was there was by the way you wouldn’t look back at his own eyes, but his lips.

“You were too.” Your voice floats through his ears, and you finally catch his gaze, but you can’t pick an eye to look in. His thumb comes to prod at your fluffy lip.

“You walk in like that and expect me not to? Look at you.”

He taps your hip with a finger, then nudges you around so your back is to his front. Your fingers gather the hair between you two.

He presses up close, making sure his breath fans on your neck and his hands are gliding up your body. From this high angle he could really admire all of your chest that was on display for him, even as he was pressing light kisses just under your ear. They were warmth in the cold.

His fingers roll over your shoulders that are covered by his jacket. “In this dark, green shirt that matches your skin perfectly.”

“Yeah?” You smile. The last thing you thought he’d say is something you were contemplating while getting dressed.

“Yeah.” He sighs back. His touch creeps downwards, to your upper back, then under your arms and to the side of both your mounds. He doesn’t squeeze them together, but gently rolls his hands around the front.

“Paired with your great posture, so your tits sit pretty.”

You release a satisfied humming sound that stills in the air. When he’s done feeling there, he slides down to your hips, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb using one hand, and the other lining the waistband of the leather skirt.

“And this little skirt that leaves little to imagination.” His voice gets impossibly lower when he says this one, reverberating through your core.

Before you can fall too deep into his complements, you quickly turn yourself around and rebut in the best way you know how to. Aggression.

“Is that all? Or do you want to flatter me some more?” You giggle, gripping onto his hands giddily. You have to stand on tiptoes to reach his lips.

“I can go all day.”

You try to ignore the innuendo and instead focus on the softness of his touch. The cold reddens his cheeks, softening his otherwise sharp features.

“What happened to ‘hello?’ Or ‘My name is?’”

He chuckles, and it’s a more than fulfilling sound. “I think you forget the part where you followed me out here. What if I was a murderer?”

“You wanted me to.”

“I did.”

“And you aren’t a murderer.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You would have killed me by now!”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I would’ve kept you around. Too pretty to die like that.”

You shine a bright smile at him and it’s like his world stops. Your face is all red from the complements or the cold, he doesn’t know, but even just holding onto you while you joke outside is enough for him.

“My name is Suna. Rintarō.”

“Suna.” You parrot. He tightens his grip on your hands. “What?”

“It sounds better when you say it.”

You decide to try and press his buttons like he’s done you so far. “It’ll sound even better if I’m screaming it, Rintarō.”

You almost trip with how suddenly he tugs you to his body by your hands, making sure to catch you as he was sure you’d stumble. One hand is firm on your waist while the other is at your nape to crane your neck up to him. Like a switch flips.

“I can arrange that,” he groans into your lips, then he passionately connects them while pulling your waist closer to his.

(He never got your number and only did once he attended every party after that)

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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months

Text

Maryë (Astarion x GN! AFAB Reader) MDNI 18 +

Synopsis: Astarion left to explore the world and himself following the death of the Netherbrain. You remain in Baldur’s Gate with your brother, Gale, resigning yourself to your fate as Astarion’s friend until you die. Until one day, you and Astarion begin to write letters back and forth. Except there is one letter in particular that you suspect isn’t from Astarion…

CW: minimal mentions of violence, smut, Oral (Female Receiving), PIV, Tav’s also just an oblivious idiot who apparently doesn’t think very hard about words (it’s me, I’m Tav the idiot and this is like my Fiancé and I’s friendship prior to ya know, dating lmfao)

Author note- I might also write this in AMAB! Format, but I need to do some… research first for accuracy. This is lightly edited and just some silly little thought I had. I wanted to write something not so detailed for once while I work on my drafts for Lethal Woman and She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline. Also def stole a line from Tolkien and added to it at the end (this is me crediting).

You’ll either love this or hate this idk.

The title literally translates to Home in Elvish.

Photo belongs to idk who so please reach out if it’s yours!

As always- likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, I am just terrible at responding.

Tav,

As much as I enjoy our current form of communication- I was wondering if I could come to see you in person.

I have so much I need to say to you and I want to be able to do it in person- the proper way.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours,

Astarion

You sit and stare at the letter like you have been doing for the last week since you received it. Unlike your half-brother, Gale, you are not one for words. It was hard to respond to Astarion’s letters initially until Gale “doctored” your responses- often putting whatever silly accomplishment you have achieved lately or stories Gale found interesting from your recent solo adventures.

“Are you going to write the letter or are you hoping it’s going to write itself?” Gale teases.

You scowl at him and shake your head.

“I don’t know what to write back.”

“I could come up with a couple things!” Gale clears his throat, “‘ Oh Astarion- I’ve missed you terribly this whole time! I regret telling you that we should be friends until you figure things out! Despite my VERY WISE BROTHER’S ADVICE TO NOT DO THAT! I wait like a lovesick puppy at the mailbox every week hoping a letter may arrive!’”

You roll your eyes at him and throw one of his many decorative couch pillows at his head. He certainly has your mother’s flair for the dramatic. However, you can’t necessarily say he’s wrong- you have been nothing less than a smitten school girl waiting for letters non-stop.

Astarion had gone back to the Underdark after the last battle with the Netherbrain. He told you that he wanted to go and explore who he is- the world too.

You had been as enthusiastic as you could about the decision considering you had come up to him at the party with a letter in your hands asking if he would like to continue traveling with you after this- you had been too scared to say it outloud. A part of you hoped it may allow your romance to blossom without the impending threat of death at every corner. Well, if he still harbored any feelings for you at all.

You had merely smiled and told him how excited you are for him. It answered the silent question that had been there- was there still room in Astarion’s heart for you after you said you should just be friends and try again later?

The answer was ‘no’, despite Gale’s perplexed face and lecture when he found out you gave the spawn a send off with a ‘long’ hug (he made you describe it in detail). You refuse to give yourself any hope- you will remain a dutiful friend since you resigned yourself to this fate.

Then you received a Sending spell with him requesting your address and the letters began. You squealed like a schoolgirl when the first one came in and ripped it open enthusiastically. You didn’t realize Gale was home, otherwise you wouldn’t have read it out in the open- Tara snitched on you!

You had only truly met Gale around a couple months prior to your mutual abduction. Your mother had asked you to assist a brother you never knew about in finding magical artifacts- you quickly learned it was because the man was becoming a damn recluse.

You had worried he’d slam the door in your face or turn you into a sheep for all of eternity- the minute you told him your name was Tav Dekarios, he pulled you in for a hug and told you he had been awaiting your arrival. Gale was thrilled to know that, like him, you were also a prodigy in your craft.

You are a virtuoso master with any instrument you touch and you cast spells that are almost far too good to be true. You became Oghma’s Chosen in your teen years after spending many years practicing under his mentorship (which is why you and Gale had a very weird, serious talk one night about how Mystra is kind of a fucking pedophile) and that allowed you to do incredible things.

Your notes could create shimmery images and tell stories- Arabella and the other tiefling children (even the very tough Mol) enjoy coming over and watching war tales be told with nothing but a drum and a rain stick. Sometimes you let them tell tales and you come up with a tune to match it- eventually finding a rhythm to put your mind into and create the picture.

It was one of the many things Astarion mentioned in his note- he stated that none of the other Bards even begin to hold a candle to your talent. You blushed deeply when you read the line.

He told you about everything he had seen, everyone he had met, what he’s found out about himself, and shockingly enough- how much he misses you. It had taken you by total surprise, but you responded saying you missed him too.

Pet names began to flow easily into inked lines and it felt like you had a tiny part of him back in your life- your friendship is still as strong as it was before he left.

The letters have quickly become the best part of your week and occasionally you’ll read them with Arabella. She ooos and awwws, then attempts to bully you into tell Astarion your feelings. You cast a mini rain shower over her head with a few poetic words for the suggestion. You don’t want to ruin what you have and there is always the possibility that he found someone else.

However, you weren’t unsure of this particular note because you didn’t want to see Astarion- you would love that. The issue is that it doesn’t look like his handwriting, it isn’t the paper he uses (he’s ridiculously particular), and it doesn’t flow. Gale thinks you are over analyzing it, but you are pretty sure that this isn’t Astarion’s writing. He also addresses you as “Darling” not Tav and signs the letter of with “‘Órenya ná órelya” (my heart is your heart) not “Yours”.

You’ve waited for another note to come in since, but nothing has. You are beginning to wonder if Gale is right and you really are just being paranoid.

“I already told you, Gale,” you say with annoyance, “something isn’t right about this note. I don’t think this is from him which is worrisome because that means I haven’t heard from him in two weeks WHICH could MEAN-“

“For the love of Gods- TAV,” Gale yells, effectively shutting you up, “my young, oblivious little sibling. Just say yes and let him come visit.”

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

It had been two days since you sent the sending stone and there was no response. Not that it would have mattered anyway considering you are somewhere in the Underdark in a very beautifully lit cave. Neon, blue veins of magic run through the rock. The pathway is lit with glowing flowers and…. Benches?

It had all happened so fast. One moment you were walking home from the market and the next- Astarion had come up to you from an alleyway and said he needed help. He had told you that he would love to catch up, but there is an injured child around the corner and since he can only stay in the shadows, he needs you to help them. Before you knew it- someone hit you with a sleep spell and the last thing you remember seeing is stars as your head slammed into the pavement. Oh and a, “oooooffff my bad” before you blacked out.

You blink your eyes a few more times, trying to figure out what in the wretched hells is going on.

“Oh for the love of- I told you to talk to Oghma’s Chosen! Not kidnap her and give her a serious concussion!”

A hazy, short figure comes into your vision. Is that…. a Deep Gnome?

“You told us it was imperative for the wedding! We intercepted the real letter and wrote this one,” another Gnome says, “and it worked! They showed up and everything! We’ve been watching since you told us to talk to her two weeks ago! We were running out of time for talking and bargaining so we just-“

“Kidnapped them!” the man yells, “you kidnapped them!? You- you imbeciles! They are supposed to want to perform for the wedding- you had at least six more hours! AND I GAVE YOU TWO WEEKS!”

“But Walby-“

Walby.

You know Walby! He and Barcus have been dating for a while now and the two are over the moon smitten. You are very happy for Barcus- this man is everything Wulbern could never be.

“No! I have had enough of your silliness! Leave me at once!”

You hear the three Gnomes that supposedly ambushed you walk off in angry huffs. A flash of healing magic fills the air and your head is finally clear- your ears no longer ringing like a triangle.

“My apologies, Ms.Dekarios,” Walby, says, “I wanted them to give you an invitation to come to Barcus’ and I’s wedding this afternoon, but as you heard, they are not the brightest bunch.

“It’s a very last minute ceremony- my mother is ill and she wants to see her ‘baby’ get married before she goes. We wanted to wait another year to plan, but oh you know how it goes!”

Walby looks at you sheepishly as you blink a few more times and let his words sink in. You look at the man and try not to throw up from sitting upright. You must have been out for a while, but not in a “oh that was a wonderful beauty nap” kind of way. You are pretty sure you have a decent amount of blood caked to the side of your head and neck right now.

“Oh, well in that case,” you offer a good natured smile, “I’ll consider this the most unique wedding invitation I’ve ever received and one I may not even have the privilege of remembering.”

The man laughs heartily as you stand up and brush your clothing off. You’re glad you wore a nicer outfit today and decided to bring your violin along- Oghma must have wanted to make sure you were prepared.

“I also wanted to ask a favor,” he says meekly, “if I haven’t fallen out of your good graces before I even stepped foot in them- that is.”

You smile and just roll your eyes.

“Consider it water under the bridge. How can I be of service?”

“Well, you see- we had asked an acquaintance of ours to play music and uh. There’s no easy way to put this, but he was run over by a herd of Deep Rothé.”

“Hmm,” you say with a snort, “tough crowd- Deep Rothés.”

Ultimately, you agreed to perform for the ceremony and the little dinner party afterwards. Your music decorated the air with golds and silvers. Barcus was thrilled to have you there and thanked you immensely for allowing his mother-in-law to “witness true magic” before she leaves this plane.

By the time you were finally leaving- you hear two very familiar voices scream your name and come barreling towards you.

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

Astarion and Gale are practically sprinting as they try to track your location through the streets of Baldur’s Gate. They had just found a large spot of your blood sticking to the cobblestone and leading to the sewer. Astarion feels sick when he notices the path leads back into the Crimson Palace. Thankfully it was through the sewer and straight to the tunnel of the Underdark.

He had sent you a letter a few days ago and he had confessed his feelings. Instead of waiting for you to respond like a sane person, Astarion got the hell out of the inn he was staying at and began the four day trek to Baldur’s Gate. The nice part about traveling alone and not needing to breath is that Astarion could run from place to place if he was in a hurry or was just fed up with traveling already.

Astarion quickly learned that it was boring to be alone and it’s far more fun to share adventures with you. He also learned that he might be a semi-decent person on his own because, in spite of being without your physical presence, he continues to fucking help people. Astarion is really over this whole moral compass thing (it only extends so far though, he’s still a proud Bastard at heart).

When he arrived at your home about an hour and a half ago, Gale had informed him that you had gone out to the Market and was confused when Astarion said his letter shouldn’t have arrived yet. It took longer than usual to write for… reasons.

Gale showed him the note you received and the two of them pieced together that someone had definitely set up a trap- just not a very good one. Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose when Gale told him that you definitely figured out the letter wasn’t from him, but Gale encouraged you to respond anyway.

A part of him is incredibly worried that some of the remaining Bhaal cultists have taken you since they are the only people he could think of that would be able to mimic his form. His stomach still turns when he thinks about the time they realized Orin had taken you. This is giving him the same queasy feeling.

So imagine his and Gale’s surprise when you are walking away from some random spot seemingly unscathed. Except Astarion won’t believe that until he has inspected you for injuries himself.

You look positively shell-shocked to see him and even more surprised when he’s taking your face gently in his hands and begins to check for injuries.

“Are you alright, Darling?” He says in a far more panicked voice than he means to, “we found blood- I thought the worst and your idiot brother! Of course that letter wasn’t from me! I have class, my Dear! I would never use that paper and WHY IN THE HELLS WOULD YOU FOLLOW ME OF ALL PEOPLE!?”

He knows his ‘rage’ doesn’t sound like rage- it sounds like a man who thought his only love had been on the brink of death only moments ago. Astarion is trying to keep a serious face, but the adoration and love in your eyes when you look at him is making him want to dissolve. He’s thrilled to see that after a whole year of not being together that your feelings haven’t waivered. Neither have his, obviously, but that’s why he’s here.

“I will say, Tav,” Gale says with exasperation, “you even gave Tara a fright- you should be expecting a very long lecture when we get home.”

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you say with a beaming smile, your eyes never leaving Astarion’s, “but I do have quite the story if you would like to hear it?”

Astarion’s grin stretches across his entire face.

“I think a good story, better company, and some wine would make for a fine evening, my Dear.”

“Gross!” Gale says, “but I’ll tag along for some wine.”

Oh dammit.

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

If Astarion wasn’t so busy feasting upon you- then he probably would have already hunted down those stupid Gnomes that gave him a fright and found a windmill to fling them from. Gale had left only 15 minutes ago, but Astarion had made quick work in getting you up to his room and having his way with you.

The minute Gale left, the conversation became flirty and teasing- all the want that has been pooling in his body is finally getting the release it needs. You, like always, are a sight to behold.

Your back arches when his tongue drags along your clit and Astarion pushes your hips down into the mattress as your arousal paints his lips. Your moans and desperate cries of pleasure are so delicious and his cock is painfully hard, straining against his leather pants.. He is fighting between taking his time and being selfish- chasing his own pleasure inside of you.

The moment you clench around his fingers is the same moment he unlaces his own pants and begins to remove them. You keen and whine underneath him- Astarion’s name sounds the best coming from you in this state.

Astarion should be a gentleman, hypothetically, and maybe give you a half a second to be a little less dazed from your orgasm. Except Astarion isn’t a gentleman and he isn’t patient- at all.

Astarion lifts your hips up to his until the head of his cock is aligned with your entrance and he thrusts himself inside of you. You immediately wrap your legs around his hips with a yelp of pleasure and your eyes flutter wildly as you take his whole length. Astarion smiles down at you as he slowly rocks in and out of you.

Your fingers find their way to his hair and you pull Astarion’s face down to yours- stunning him with a mind numbing kiss. He snaps his hips at the sensation and the moan you let out causes whatever resolve he had to break. Astarion releases the hold you have on his lips and kisses along your jaw up to your ear.

“Did you like that, my Love?”

You hum in approval and try to pull his mouth back to yours. He interrupts you by thrusting into you two more times with more power than the first one.

“Asta-,,” you attempt to say his name between thrusts, “Astarion please.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Pet,” he teases, “I don’t even know if I know what you like anymore- maybe you don’t even like thi-“

Your legs tighten around his hips as he goes to pull completely out of you. Astarion quirks his eyebrow at you with a smirk as you look at him with desperation.

“I more than liked it- I loved it,” you whisper with your cheeks burning from your shyness.

Oh and how Astarion loves your shyness. His hands fist the sheets as he starts his agonizingly slow rhythm inside of you again- whimpers falling from deep within your chest.

“See, Darling,” Astarion says as his face falls into the crook of your neck, “that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before Astarion’s hips begin to pick up speed and his mouth covers yours. As much as he loves to hear you moan- he doesn’t care to share that experience with any of the patrons that had been obviously checking you out while you were catching up.

Astarion groans against your lips as he continues to fuck you relentlessly- his fangs nip at your lower lip and lap at the tiny droplets of blood that seep from the punctures.

You are a mess underneath him and you feel incredible in every way possible. Astarion never wanted this to stop in the first place- back when he had told you his feelings and you said it would be best to be friends for the time being.

Perhaps that’s what causes him to slow down and kiss you deeply- making up for the lack of speed with more force. One of his hands trails along your chest and begins to tease your sensitive nipples- your walls clench around him hard when he begins to pinch and roll the right one and your orgasm coats him as he moves to play with the left.

You kiss him sloppily and he’s lazily thrusting into you- his own Little Death following yours within seconds. Astarion collapses on top of you as he begins to soften inside of you. The smell of you and him mixed together is intoxicating and your heartbeat is hammering from the pleasure- your eyes glassy and tired with bliss. He laughs breathily before placing a kiss on your swollen lips.

Astarion lifts you up ever so slightly so that he can pull the blanket down and over you, then he adjusts himself and you so that you are curled up with your ear pressed against his chest. He strokes your hair absentmindedly and you lightly draw shapes on his chest.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you say sleepily, “I’ve missed you so much.”

I’ve missed you too, Darling,” Astarion says while pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m happy to be home.”

“Oh I’m sure Baldur’s Gate is-“

“You are my home,” Astarion interrupts you, “I’ve come to realize that wherever you are is where I want to be.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and happiness in your heart.

“But what about exploring your new life and all of that jazz?”

“Darling, I wouldn’t have a life if it weren’t for you,” Astarion states, “you helped me kill Cazador and break the cycle of ongoing abuse. You gave me life so I could live it and I want to live it with you. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just being friends and holding back my feelings. I want to share my life with you.

“I know this may all seem very fast, but” Astarion grabs his pants off the ground and he feels his stomach turn as he pulls the box out of his pocket, “I know I love you- that’s probably the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire 239 years of existence. I- I wanted to know if you would… marry me?”

Your lips are on his within seconds and the two of you become entangled in soft kisses until you have to pull back for air. You lean your forehead against his and meet his gaze.

“I love you so much, Astarion. Yes- yes I will marry you,” you say tearfully, “I want to share my life with you too.”

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