#9 just likes the way “grey” sounds/feels when grey says it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earthtooz · 8 months

Text

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous.

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh.

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm.

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him.

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse.

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye.

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.”

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture.

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug.

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you.

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious.

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup.

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.”

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.”

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!”

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why.

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!”

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate.

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?”

“No one. Now get lost.”

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.”

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love.

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe.

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar?

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you.

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over.

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression.

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

“What guy?”

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.”

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.”

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him.

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?”

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile.

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.”

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?”

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?”

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands.

“So why aren’t you apologising?”

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in.

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner?

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest.

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs.

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.”

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue.

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad?

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

#i didn't edit this btw don't judge #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #fluff #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #alhaitham fic #genshin fic

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absdoll · 5 months

Note

drug dealer! ellie!! reader’s brother is a usual customer of hers but he’s busy or whatever so he asks reader to go pick it up 😈🤭

cw: car sex ♡ , kinda player!ellie , mentions of weed & smoking it , strap sucking (e!rev) , strap sitting (r!rec) <3 that’s it !

also songs are linked throughout this , just to add to the dealer!ellie hot car sex ambiance hehe ♡

“dude, can you stop being such a fucking baby and just go?!” your brother hisses at you, frantically packing for his soccer match. “if i get home from this game and i don’t have anything to smoke, i’m beating your ass.” he rolls his eyes as he walks out of the door, “i’ll text you her address and let her know you’re coming, don’t fuck this up.”

ellie. ellie williams. ellie auburnettetattedsofuckinghot williams. the scrawny masc you’ve had a crush on since junior year of high school. you’ve maybe said 5 words to each other, in passing when she glares at you with her hazel eyes, making you squeeze your thighs together. “sup?” she’ll nonchalantly throw at you, not knowing you go home and ride your fingers to the sound of her voice.

your phone buzzes as you’re about to get in your car, an unknown number.

8:29pm “yooo, u on the way? i got somewhere to be”

“ohmyfuckinggod” you mutter under your breath. you manically type a response, not even thinking before pressing send.

8:31pm “yeah! be there soon sorry!”

8:34pm “all good cutie”

the butterflies in your stomach are swarming. as if you weren’t already nervous to face your going on 4 year crush, she just … flirted..? with you? it’ll be a miracle if you even survive the drive over there.

you pull up to an apartment complex, the 3rd floor balcony lit up with purple LED lights. your phone buzzes again.

8:59pm “this u?”

you look back up to the balcony, now seeing a lanky figure in a black tank top, grey sweatpants, batman socks, and a black beanie leaning over the railing. she nods her head up at you, and you can just hear her silky smooth voice saying “sup?”, but this time you can’t relieve the pressure between your legs.

9:00pm “do i come up there or??”

it’s been 5 minutes since you sent that text.

before you know it, there’s a subtle knock on ur passenger window. it’s dark outside, no streetlights in the parking lot, but you knew it was ellie. you unlock the door, and she dips her head in, slouching down into the seat next to you.

ellie smirks, eyeing you up and down, noticing the way your thighs erupt in goosebumps at her stare. you’re wearing black denim shorts and a black tube top, ellie’s eyes immediately falling to your collarbones.

“it’s $35” she says in a low tone, handing you a sealed ziploc bag.

your fingertips touch her hand as you grab it from her, causing you to choke on your words, “c-cool, thanks” you smile at her, feeling like your nerves are gonna make you pass out at any second.

ellie’s so calm and collected, watching you nervously fumble with your wallet trying to retrieve the cash your brother gave you. and god, she smells so good. her scent is intoxicating. vanilla mixed with musk and sugar and leather.

all of a sudden you feel her hand fall on your thigh. “nervous or something?” she teases. she grabs at the jelly flesh with one hand and pulls a joint out of her pocket with her right hand. you audibly let a big sigh fall from your mouth when her hand leaves to light her joint. ellie passes the burning paper to you, and you don’t smoke so you’re just holding it, contemplating to make yourself look cool by taking a puff. she’s adjusting her sweatpants — and that’s when you notice it. the thick bulge outlined in her pants, her eyes fluttering up to yours.

“wanna sit on it?” she chuckles, grabbing the joint from your hand. you can’t tell if she’s serious or not, so you just giggle back.

“open up.” ellie takes a long drag, yellowish smoke filling her mouth.

you’re confused, but in an effort to not embarrass yourself, you open your mouth. ellie’s face now inches away from yours, her eyes staring deep into your nervous gaze. she blows the thick smoke into your mouth, “inhale.” she whispers.

within a minute, your nerves have subsided and you feel lighter. ellie watches as you shift in your seat, putting your hands under your thighs. “are you cold? i’m cold. do you care if i turn the a/c off?” you ramble at ellie. she smirks, “first time smoking?”

you roll your eyes at her, the car quieter now without the buzz of the air conditioning. “you ever heard of a hotbox?” ellie says, shifting her body towards you. you shake your head ‘no’ and ellie just giggles. “c’mere” she motions for you to sit on her lap.

“w-what? why?” you spit out, embarrassed immediately.

“your eyes haven’t left my crotch since you noticed my cock that’s tucked in my pants. if you want it, jus’ c’mere.” she hits the joint again, blowing smoke towards your face.

she adjusts her seat, making room by her feet for you sit on the floor. you’re on your knees, looking up at her with reddened eyes.

“go ‘head, take it out” she lowly mutters to you, not even looking at you, she’s preoccupied by trying to connect her bluetooth to your car speaker.

your shaky hands move to the band of her sweatpants, sliding them down just enough for her purple, curved, silicone strap to plop out onto her lap.

her eyes dart to yours, grinning at the look of amazement on your face.

ellie uses one hand to wrap around the back of your neck, guiding your head closer to her crotch, the other hand twisting the volume nozzle up, speakers blaring. “open your mouth angel” she breathes out. as your lips part, she swipes her thumb across your bottom pout, slipping the tip of her cock towards the back of your throat. her hand moves up to grab a fistful of your hair, “gooooood, good job baby” she praises.

as ellie bobs your head up and down, you start moaning around her girth. “mmm you like this baby? like my cock deep in your throat? dirty girl.” you nod up at her, causing her to throw her head back.

ellie’s one hand atop your head, other hand typing on her dimly lit phone screen. “gotta make this quick, told you i had somewhere to be.” she throws her phone into the backseat, moving both hands to the back of your neck. her thrusts are quick and steady, grunts falling from her chapped lips.

“mm fuck, you’re drooling b-baby” she half chuckles and half stutters, the base of her strap striking her clit. “uuuuuhhh fuuuuuck” she breathes out.

“f-fuck, get on top.” ellie grabs you by your hair, hands moving to your hips, setting you down slowly on her long, wet member.

“o-ooh s-shit-uuhhhh” you moan out, the feeling of her thickness sliding deep inside you. her hands still groping your ass, slamming you up and down on her length. “bounce on it baby.” she grunts out as she pulls your tube top down, revealing your fatty tits.

ellie moves her hands to behind her head. watching as your boobs slap against your chest. your moans barely audible as the rap song fills the car, “lemme hear you, l-louder” she’s doing little to no work, her hips every once and awhile bucking up into you, which causes you to yelp and ellie lets out a chuckle.

“mm-ahh ellieeeeuuhhggh” “f-feels s’fucking gooduuuhhh” you’re practically screaming at this point, ellie’s eyes filled with darkness and lust, just watching as you fuck yourself on her cock.

your legs start to shake, inner thighs sore from relentlessly pounding your pussy on ellie’s strap. “need help baby?” ellie wraps her arms around your waist, lifting her hips up. she stops her movements, grinning as you whine from sudden lack of friction.

ellie stuffs her cock deep inside you, watching her girth move in and out of you, agonizingly slow. “m-more ellie p-please” you’re whining and she takes it as her cue to vigorously thrust up into you.

“ommm-mm-g-go-god-dduuuhhh” with every slam of ellie’s hips, your moans get louder.

you start cumming all over ellie’s cock, her dark red bush covered in your slick.

your high is dizzying, you open your eyes in a tired, fucked out state to see ellie, again, typing a text on her phone.

she pats your ass, “that was hot baby, but i gotta go.” as you slide yourself off her lap, falling into your seat and pulling your shorts back up, ellie goes to open the car door. “tell your brother you’ll pick up for him more often.” she tuts with a grin.

you feel your whole face start to burn as she slams the door and walks away.

did that just happen?

a/n : hi hi ♡ i’m well aware this isn’t the best , i’ve mentioned i’m struggling to write lately & it shows ! i’m proud of the concept & whatnot , just bad writing gdjdhjsjs . anyways i need to bounce on ellie’s strap rn u don’t understand .

🌙 @whore4abby @enbesbians @hersweetheart 🌙

#🧸 bee writes ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ ✉️ : reqs #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x you

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appocalipse · 4 months

Note

Kiss prompt #9 with Eddie? Por favor?

anything for you. ♥

#9: "I think I deserve a kiss."

Eddie is charming your mother. You can tell even from this distance, sitting on the small step in front of your porch while you watch them.

He's been squatting with a some sort of screwdriver near that lawnmower for about 10 minutes, poking it, tightening screws, taking out parts of it you can't even name.

His hands are dirty with what you suppose it's oil, but he doesn't seem to care. He's so focused that he brings the back of his hand to his face and leaves a stain on his cheek without even realizing it.

You smile.

He looks up from time to time, to sneak a glance your way or when your mother talks to him, and then the two of them laugh amicably. After a few more moments, Eddie straightens up the lawnmower and turns it on, demonstrating that, as if by magic, it now works. Your mom thanks Eddie politely, then says something that makes him, you realize, look embarrassed as he stands up, wiping his hands on a grey cloth.

Embarrassed, Eddie? It's an unusual occurrence, to say the least.

It doesn't last long.

She says something else to him, insists. Eddie vehemently denies with small smile. You wonder if she's offering him money.

Eddie, very helpful, turns the mower off and puts it back in the garage.

Your mom touches your shoulder affectionately when she passes you on her way back inside the house, offering a smile that you're not sure you understand. Maybe it's best to not even try to understand.

Eddie comes right behind her, looking very pleased with himself.

The step is too small for two people, but he sits down next to you anyway, his knee lightly bumping yours. "I think I just won your mother over," he announces, and it's probably true; that lawnmower had been abandoned in your garage for the past few months, all but useless. He'll sure be in your mother's good graces for a long time.

"And why would you need to win her over?"

He bumps your shoulder with his. "Oh, you know, for when we decide to get married."

Eddie has no filter. You shouldn't even get flustered by this kind of comment at this point.

You laugh without looking at him, although you sound a little more nervous than you'd like. "So fixing a lawnmower is worth my hand in marriage?" you ask in mock seriousness.

"No, but it's a start. Don't you think I deserve, say…" he puts a strand of hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing your temple. "…a kiss? I think I deserve a kiss. Sounds fair enough, doesn't it?"

Now you have no choice but to look at him. This space really is too small for two people, and the proximity between is slowly melting away what little common sense you have left.

"You can ask her," you chuckle, pointing to the front door despite knowing that, of course, Eddie wasn't talking about your mother, "but I think my dad won't like the idea, you know."

Eddie grins when you look away. He can read you like a book.

"Don't be mean, sweetheart."

"You're the one being mean."

He leans closer, and you can feel his breath on your cheek, the tip of his nose almost touching the side of your face, hoping you turn to look at him too. "Me? I'm just trying to make things clear." He pauses, and you can practically hear him thinking. "Maybe I should try a different approach."

You tilt your head, curious. "Like what?"

"Like..." Eddie hesitates for a moment, gathering his courage, "…you could go out with me."

You blink.

"Don't look so surprised," he says quickly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I can do dates. Fancy dinner, movies, the whole shebang. Just give me a chance."

You can't help but laugh, turning your head to look into his eyes. It's true, at first glance, he's not exactly the most romantic person you know, with his tattoos, his love for heavy metal and his old van that always smells like cheap cologne, cigarettes and leather. But none of that matters, because you can't deny that there's something there between the two of you, something that you've been forcing yourself to ignore for far too long.

The oil stain is still right there, on his cheek. Without thinking too much, you reach up and rub it off slowly with the pad of your thumb. "I don't need fancy," you murmur, because it's true. You don't care about the glitz and the glamor, not when it comes to Eddie.

His breath hitches when you touch him, like he's not used to anyone being this gentle with him, like he's forgotten what it feels like.

You can feel the warmth of his skin through your fingers, the rough stubble of his beard prickling your palm. You wonder if he knows how soft you've become around him, how easily you let him affect you.

"Really?" he whispers, eyes wide and unblinking, as if he's afraid he's imagining this.

You nod, still rubbing his cheek even though the stain is already long gone. You can feel him relaxing into the touch, leaning into you just a little more. It's like he's been waiting for this, for someone to finally see past the tough exterior he shows the world and find the tender, vulnerable boy underneath.

Eddie grins, leaning closer, his voice lowering to a husky murmur. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

[join my 3k followers celebration! ♥]

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb

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beenbaanbuun · 3 months

Text

misunderstandings w/ san

words - some

genre - fluff/angst with a dash of nsfw but not smut

warnings - horny!san, soft!san, sad!reader, misunderstandings, san in grey sweatpants, mentions of sex, no actual sex/sexual acts, reader speaks in riddles and expects san to understand

it’s no surprise to anyone that san likes to be cosy and comfy

we’ve all seen that fuzzy great sweater that he always wears

that thing looks like it would send me to sleep within seconds of putting it on, but i digress…

another item of clothing he keeps close to his heart is sweat pants, more specifically grey ones

he says they’re just comfy, but you know exactly why he wears them

they cling to his thighs so nicely and leave very little to the imagination

sometimes just seeing him in them is enough to drive you insane

it’s even worse if he takes a shower before putting them on, because 9 times out of 10, that man is not putting underwear on with them

a shirt is also optional… apparently san just doesn’t like the way they feel when his skin is damp

personally, you think san just does it because he knows it drives you crazy

in fact, there’s been more than a few times when you’ve texted san throughout your day at work about how much you miss him

and shown up at the end of the day with him on your couch, just like that; half naked with sopping wet hair

and whilst ‘i miss you’ usually is just code for ‘i’m horny’, sometimes it just means you’re having a bad day and want to hold him close for the rest of the day

either way, you don’t mind showing up to your house with a half naked san on your couch

you’re about to get the best dick of your life, or incredibly soft cuddles

it all depends on your response to his obvious advances, although sometimes he isn’t the best at taking hints

“you’re home,” he opens his arms the moment you walk through the door, as if asking for a hug

you’re more than happy to oblige, dumping your bag on the floor and letting your tired body collapse onto his

it had been a frustrating day to say the least

your coworker had been off so her work had been passed to you, despite the fact that no one person would be able to do all of that by themselves

still, the boss expected it whether you complained or not

saying you were drained was an understatement

as your body connects with san’s, he grunts, but catches you effortlessly

“fucking hell, babe,” he squeezes you gently as he holds you to his chest, “careful, yeah?”

you nod half heartedly into the damp skin of his neck

“you’re naked,” you deadpan, snuggling into his warmth a little

you know what it means, but you haven’t quite decided whether that’s what you want or not

maybe sex would take your mind off the day behind you

or maybe it would overstimulate you and send you spiralling… who’s to know!

“hardly,” he replies, “i have my sweatpants on…”

“and what are the chances of there being something underneath,” you wait for his response, but he stays silent which tells you everything you need to know

not that you need any confirmation; you can feel his hardening dick pressing against your thigh

you decide then and there that no, sex definitely would not be the best option

the thought alone of the ache that would follow is enough to make you decide that you certainly could not handle it right now

“it’s covered, is it not?” he finally says through pouted lips

you sit up fully and look at him with a fed-up expression, hoping he gets the message

you’d never been too good at saying no to people

something along the lines of not wanting to disappoint people

usually you just dropped hints and hoped for the best; san usually understood sooner or later

“it’s rock hard against my leg, san,” you scoff, “i don’t think your sweatpants are going to stop me from feeling that…”

he shrugs with a smirk

“that sounds like a you problem,” he says, which is actually factually incorrect, “maybe you should do something to sort it out…”

you can’t help but sigh at his inability to take any sort of hint

“or maybe, you can take yourself up to the bathroom and get rid of the problem yourself!”

it’s more obvious that the glare you gave him previously

still, the smirk remains as though you’re just teasing him

he shakes his head with a grin

“but you’re literally right here,” he whines, “and the bathroom is all the way upstairs…”

“i’m not in the mood to ache right now, sannie,” you once again, drop a hint that he, once again, completely disregards

in fact your statement makes him smile, clearly happy with what your statement implies about how good he fucks you usually

“i’ll be gentle?”

“san!” you scold, frustrated that your rock-headed boyfriend can’t seem to understand that whether or not he was rough was not the issue here

“i’m just saying,” he puts his hands up defensively

you look down at him with tired eyes, frustrated tears forming in the corners as you grow tired of throwing hint after hint at him

as much as you hated saying ‘no’ so bluntly, you settle on the fact that you might have to

“san,” you start, taking a deep sigh to calm your nerves, “i’m trying to tell you that i don’t want to have sex right now.”

you have to force yourself to look at him

even though you know that he’ll be more than fine with that fact, you can’t help but feel a little guilty about it

and when you look up at him, you can’t help not notice that his face falls a little

not that he’s upset at you not wanting sex, he’s just upset that he clearly misread the situation

and maybe he feels a little (a lot) guilty for pushing so hard when, now that he thinks back on it, you actually weren’t that interested

“oh, baby,” he mumbles softly as he moves his hands to rest against your thighs that sit either side of hips, “bad kind of ‘i miss you’, huh?”

you nod

“the bad kind,” you respond with a shrug, as if you’re trying to pass it off as nothing

but of course, gentleman san would never let that happen

because your emotions are never nothing

“you should’ve told me straight away,” he scolds gently, “or maybe i should’ve asked…” he frowns, “either way, if i’d have known i’d never have pushed so hard… you know that, right?”

you nod ever so slightly

of course you should’ve told him straight away, but again, saying no is hard for you and the ever present fear of disappointment hangs over your head like a rain cloud

and while you were positive that nothing you did could ever disappoint san, there was still something in the back of your brain that told you otherwise

“of course i know that, sannie,” you pout, “but you know me…”

“hm, i do know you,” he mutters as he rubs gentle circles into your thighs, “and i know how scary saying no is, but it’s just me.”

just san… it’s just san

you nod, understanding exactly what he means

there’s no external judgement, or any judgement at all for that matter, because it’s just san

and san doesn’t care about these things

san just wants to make you happy and if sex wouldn’t make you happy, then san would happy live with blue balls for the night

you nod again, more enthusiastic this time

“it’s just you,” you give him a small smile, which he returns without even a second passing

“there’s that pretty smile,” he coos before shifting his hands to your waist and tugging you gently until you’re lay flat against his chest once more

and you’re happy to just lie there in silence as san trails his fingers up and down your spine to soothe you

he’s not asked about your day yet, and he probably won’t for a while, content to sit in silence and love you for now

and you’re content too

very content

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #san fic #san oneshot #san fluff #san x reader #ateez angst #san smut #san angst

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bangtanflirt · 13 days

Text

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 13)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: SA trauma recovery and boundary setting, recovering from malnourishment, jealousy, hard dom/sub sexual dynamics, dirty talk, rough sex with anal penetration and breath play, mental infidelity (morally grey since packs have a different view of relationships and exclusivity, but characters are feeling guilty about their thoughts)

____

Namjoon takes the white towel from Hoseok’s hand, motioning for the older wolf to sit on the bed and let him dry his hair. He hums as he massages his packmate’s scalp through the towel, smiling at how cute Hoseok looks when he’s relaxed like this. It’s not just the way his eyes flutter, but everything else. It’s only been a few days since he’s been eating proper meals, but that—and the fancy vitamin supplements you’ve been giving him—have been making visible progress in fighting his malnourishment. His face is no longer sunken in and colorless, and his hair has gotten some of its shine back as well.

There are still moments where everything feels dizzy and weird, as his body relearns to enjoy eating, but overall, Hoseok is in a much better place with food.

“You’re getting your glow back.”

The wolf smiles, feeling his almost dry hair, “Feeling a lot better these days.”

Namjoon pulls away from drying to face Hoseok, fingers gently stroking the wolf’s cheek.

“Tae and Jimin told me about the conversation they had with you. I told the others as well. If you say it’s okay, then I’m going to assume it is. I’m trusting you to set your own boundaries, you know that right?”

It’s moments like these where Namjoon shines the brightest in Hoseok’s eyes. Moments where he knows exactly what to say.

“I am okay, I promise. Thank you for trusting me.” This conversation could have gone a different way, and Hoseok was bracing himself for how frustrating it could’ve been.

But Namjoon knows the difference between leading his pack and infantilizing them, and he’s never for a second thought of Hoseok as incapable of making his own decisions. It’s just, most of the time, the wolves want him to make these decisions instead. It makes them feel safe and cared for when an Alpha does all the thinking.

A gentle knock on the open doorframe interrupts the moment, with both heads turning towards you.

“Just the two I wanted to talk to. Can I come in?”

Hoseok nods immediately, while Namjoon nervously goes along with it. He still doesn’t know how to be around you after realizing the extent of his crush. It feels wrong to look at someone else’s girlfriend with the way he looks at you. Especially not when he’s taken himself.

Hence the way he looks everywhere but at you when you sit in front of them.

“I have a proposition.”

Namjoon can’t help the little chuckle that comes out, endeared by how you sound like you’re leading a boardroom negotiation right now.

Your eyes narrow, looking at him with a pout.

“Sorry, you just looked cute.”

The words leave his mouth faster than he processes what he’s said.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Did I really just say that out loud?

The blush on his cheeks is violent red. You don’t seem phased, though, as you laugh it off.

“Hobi, you better hold onto your Alpha before I steal him.”

Namjoon knows it’s nothing more than a joke to you, but the words have him shifting uncomfortably in seat.

Hoseok obliviously smiles, “You can try Y/N, but our Alpha is too head over heels over us for that to ever happen.”

The Alpha gives a strained smile. Of course, nothing could ever tear him away from his packmates—but that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty for what he’s feeling towards you.

“Fair enough. Okay, back to my proposition.”

You hand Namjoon a manilla folder, with the name “Cha Mi-Suk” over it.

“Cha Mi-Suk?”

“She’s a psychiatrist who also provides psychotherapy, and she’s agreed to work with Hoseok—if that’s okay with the two of you. Assuming I’m supposed to ask you both. Or is it just a conversation between Hoseok and I? Or do I need to ask the whole pack. Sorry I’m not--” you can’t help going on a tangent and tripping over your own words.

This whole hierarchy thing was confusing and new, and you wanted to make sure you were doing it right. On one hand, it feels condescending towards Hoseok to have to ask Namjoon’s permission. However, not asking Namjoon feels like you’re dismissing his authority over them. They don’t teach you this stuff in business school.

“Relax Y/N. This is okay.” Namjoon reassures, “Hobi prefers I make these kinds of decisions for him.”

Hoseok nods, peeking at the papers as the other wolf flips through them.

“But how did you get someone to agree to this? Isn’t it illegal?”

Yes, it very much is illegal. Hybrids are only allowed “therapy” in state-sanctioned facilities like adoption centers, where the government can keep the extent of it under supervision. Designed to gaslight and manipulate hybrids until they bottle the trauma down enough to get adopted, rather than working to help them in any meaningful way. It’s not rocket science to see why private practices aren’t allowed: that would mean giving the hybrids a voice, and possibilities of therapists empathizing with them.

Which is why you were as careful as possible while looking into this for the past few days, all with the help of your boyfriend.

“It’s going to be risky to even ask, but I think Cha Mi-Suk is our best shot if we’re proceeding.” Yoongi had said this morning, over the phone.

“I’ll ask.”

“No, let me. You’ve never broken the law before, Y/N. It’s best to keep your hands clean.”

“I can afford to be in trouble. You can’t. And I know I’ve been a stickler for the law, but I don’t think I’ll regret breaking this one. Not when it’s so cruel.”

You remembered Mi-Suk from one of the parties you’d attended in the past, mother to the CEO of a start-up you had helped get on its feet. She would’ve been forgettable if not for the little scene she had caused during dinner—drinking one too many glasses of champagne and reprimanding another guest for being sleazy towards their fox hybrid.

It was an unusual scene at one those events, someone actually defending a hybrid…something you wished you were brave enough to do back then, without caring of what anyone would say or think about you.

You had found her admirable in that moment.

Thankfully, you and Yoongi’s hunches were right, and it took very little convincing (and a lot of money) to get her on board.

“You’re right, it is illegal. That’s why it’ll have to be a secret. It won’t be on any official records, and she’ll never meet him in person. If we go through with it, Yoongi and I will set up a secure private video chat that he can use for weekly sessions.”

Namjoon nods along, scanning all of her information and credentials with a protective instinct.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Breaking the law for us?”

“If it means Hobi can sleep a little better at night, I’m willing to do anything.”

The Alpha can’t help the way his heart flutters when he hears that. How can he hold himself back when you talk as if his pack is your own? You’re really not making this easy for him.

Hoseok’s eyes have stars in them, finally seeing a glimmer of hope for the future.

“It’s okay with me,” Namjoon concludes, “I think it’d be good for you, pup. What do you think?”

The wolf nods at lightning speed, “I’ll give anything a try! Thank you Alpha! Thank you Y/N!”

___

Yoongi comes home in the evening, singing to himself as he takes his shoes off. It’s hard to keep his tune, though, when there’s a constant soft thud coming from one of the rooms. He follows the sound to your library, where a determined blonde wolf is trying to fix one of the side tables.

“You’re going to split the wood if you hammer the screw that hard.”

Jin jumps up, too lost in concentration to register Yoongi’s cologne fill the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Yoongi joins the wolf on the floor, sitting a little too close for Jin to maintain composure. His cologne is inescapable now. A blended scent of maple and chestnut that makes the wolf feel both calm and nervous.

“Can I help?”

Jin nods, handing the hammer over while subconsciously licking his lips. There’s just something about Yoongi that he can’t help but be drawn to…an aura of confidence that’s never domineering—quiet, subtle, yet commanding. It tugs at his heartstrings in ways that’s usually only reserved for his pack.

Even now, he can’t help but want to watch this sight for hours: the way the man rolls up his sleeves and juts his lips out in concentration.

And how he knows just the right pressure to put on the nail…

…the way he shakes his hair out of his eyes.

…and, the cherry on top of the cake: his fucking fingers.

Long and narrow and so goddamn pretty wrapped around that hammer.

They’d probably look just as pretty inside of--

Jin shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of it.

A mix of lust, guilt, and five hundred other emotions he can’t quite name yet all tornado in the pit of his stomach.

Can’t stay here. Can’t be near him right now.

All the alarm bells ring, and the wolf’s body language changes from too stiff to a jittery mess in seconds.

“I—uh—I remembered there’s something I have to do.” Is the most he can muster before almost running out, leaving a confused Yoongi to finish up the table by himself.

The wolf darts straight to where the smell of oranges is the strongest—the scent of his Alpha to replace the one of Yoongi’s cologne. Leading him straight to the bathroom of your home gym. Namjoon’s stripped down to his underwear, getting ready for a post-workout shower, when he gets ambushed with a hug.

“Hi to you too.” The wolf laughs, wrapping his arms around the welcomed intruder.

But then he notices something weird: Jin never hugs Namjoon when he’s all sweaty, so something was definitely off, “Is something wrong, hyung?”

“I need to feel you. Inside of me. And I need to feel it now because I’m going insane.”

Whatever Namjoon was expecting…this was not it. His underwear suddenly feels a lot tighter.

“Okay, that’s the hottest thing I’ve heard in a while, but something’s clearly up…”

Jin doesn’t skip a beat to confess, doesn’t even avoid eye contact as the words come out of his mouth.

“I think I just got turned on by Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s eyes nearly bulge out of his eye sockets.

“You think WHAT?”

Jin crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes to stare the younger wolf down.

“Hey, no judgement. Don’t act like you don’t have any feelings for Y/N.”

If the first statement wasn’t enough to destabilize him, this one knocked the wind right out of his body.

“H-how did you know?”

“You really think you can keep anything from me? I’m your first packmate. I can read your thoughts like they��re written on your forehead.”

Namjoon coughs, face hot and red. This isn’t a conversation he’d ever planned on having. The plan was simple: crush on you for a little while, get over it on his own, never let a single packmate know.

But now, as it lays out in the open, the guilt has him scrambling.

“I can explain…I…”

Jin waves a hand dismissively, “Hush. We can have a rational talk about this later. Right now, I’m telling you, my Alpha, that I was thinking about another man’s fingers inside of me. So, are you going to do something about that or should I keep imagining—”

All guilt and remorse fade away from Namjoon’s eyes, leaving half-lidded dark orbs in their stead. He doesn’t wait for his packmate to rile him up any further before grabbing the blonde by the waist and hoisting him onto the bathroom counter, quite literally ripping off his clothes from his body.

“Now this, this is what I needed” Jin smirks, claws lightly dragging along Namjoon’s bare back.

“God, you’re such a fucking brat.”

Just the word “brat” has the older man whining. It’s been a minute since he’s been called that. Been years since he acted like one. Ever since the youngest three came into the picture, he’d fallen into more of a dominant role in the bedroom, with their omegas being much more needy than his beta. Although they were all more human than wolf—to the point where only the Alpha distinction really mattered—there was still an unspoken shift when omega hybrids joined the pack. Partly a hormonal thing, but more societal. A beta is supposed to help their Alpha keep the omegas happy. That’s just how it’s always been. When it was just him and Hoseok with Namjoon, the betas could act however they wanted with their Alpha. But the moment Jimin first came into their lives, everything shifted. Suddenly, there was an omega in the picture. Then two. Then three.

And unlike Hoseok, who seemed to prefer giving care, it took Jin a little longer to fit into his new role. Granted, it wasn’t difficult at all—how could it be, when he adored the omegas to the moon and back? When it was instinct to dote on them? It wasn’t long before he grew to love their new dynamic, putting his all into spoiling the pups.

But now, as content as he is with his role in the pack, he can’t help the excitement that surges in his veins at being called a brat again. It makes him feel like that young little wolf he was all those years ago, at the bar where he first met Namjoon. He had spent the entire night pushing just the right buttons to get the Alpha riled up, knowing he’d be in for quite the lesson in the back alley afterwards. And he couldn’t have been more right.

The Jin and Namjoon of those days were fiery and hot and burned each other when skin touched skin. But as the burning passion replaced itself with quiet comfort, it seemed as if only the omegas’ scents could get Namjoon riled up in the same way.

Or so Jin thought. Because looking at his Alpha now, it’s as if the pheromones of fifty omegas are calling to him at the moment. All from a little jealousy.

“Same limits? And safeword?” Namjoon makes sure Jin is fully present in the moment, getting him to squeeze his hand as he answers.

Jin nods, “Same limits, red, and tap twice if I can’t speak.”

“Good boy. I’m not going to hold back.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Namjoon brings his face close to the beta’s neck, grazing his skin with the tips of his canines before whispering in the older man’s ear.

“If you think about him even once while I’m fucking you, I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for months. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes Alpha.”

With Jin’s clothes in a ripped up pile on the floor, the Alpha wastes no time in spreading his beta’s hole wide open, circling the puckered rim with his index finger. He laughs at how just this act gets the older wolf’s ears red in embarrassment.

“Fuck, you look so tight. You could pass as a virgin right now. But don’t worry, Alpha will make it fit.”

Every sinful word coming out of Namjoon’s mouth has Jin getting slicker by the second. But even as slick as he is, the first finger still causes him to jolt up, squirming at the intrusion.

His legs flail on both sides of Namjoon, unable to find footing on anything as he’s on the edge of the counter. The younger wolf decides to show a little mercy and push him back against the mirror, letting the soles of his feet find some balance.

It’s the only mercy Namjoon’s going to give, however, because his finger is sliding in and out of the man with unrelenting speed. And just when Jin’s tensing up a little less, body adjusting to the feeling, the second finger thrusts in with even more force.

“Still so tight. Gonna need three fingers to open you up.”

Jin shakes his head, “Can’t—fuck!—Can’t take three. Please, I’m too—ungh—tight.”

Namjoon uses his free hand to grab the wolf’s chin, demanding eye contact.

“Unless you say the safeword, only I decide how much you can take. Understood?”

“U-understood! Sorry Alpha!”

Contrasting his harsh tone, Namjoon’s eyes are dialed in on every movement Jin is making, fully aware of what his body language looks like when he’s at his limits—which isn’t right now.

No, right now he’s just being an absolute brat. And it’s Namjoon’s duty to make sure he fucks it out of him.

The third finger is especially brutal in the stretch, causing tears to pool around his eyes. It’s the best kind of pain, the kind that has him grow more and more slick—until the wetness is running down Namjoon’s hands and it feels like even four fingers could slide in easily. But a fourth never comes.

Instead, his hole is left empty and twitching as Namjoon slides down his own boxers—cock standing deliciously tall and dribbling pre-cum.

Jin closes his eyes, trying to take deep breaths to prepare for the intrusion, but even that luxury is taken from him. Because, before anything even goes near his hole again, the Alpha’s hand wraps around his throat—allowing just enough airflow to keep him conscience.

If Namjoon thought Jin was tight before, it’s nothing compared to now, when his restricted airways only make his hole clench even harder around nothing. It’s not just lust in the air, but a primal need to be as close as possible after three months of becoming strangers to each other’s bodies. Namjoon can’t have his mate forgetting the pleasure only he can give. Can’t have him thinking about any men outside of the pack just because he hasn’t provided his touch in a while.

He lines himself to the entrance, letting a deep growl escape his lips as the head pops in. The blonde’s eyes to widen to the size of saucers at the stretch, throat still too closed off to properly moan.

“Still good?”

Unable to speak, the beta signals a thumbs up sign, giving Namjoon the go ahead to keep pushing all the way in. Only when he’s bottomed out does he let go of Jin’s neck, opting to wrap around the man’s cock instead. Sounds of skin slapping get louder as Namjoon fully loses himself, reveling in the way his length is being squeezed.

The sound mixes effortlessly with Jin’s sultry moans—thankfully, the size of the mansion spares the sounds from blaring throughout the house.

Even if he wasn’t inside of him right now, this visual alone could drive Namjoon wild: his gorgeous packmate, with flushed cheeks and tightly shut eyes, chasing for an orgasm that’s just out of reach. It’s the kind of expression that makes him wish he was a full wolf—one that could give his mate a proper knot. Because god knows what Jin would’ve looked like getting knotted. The thought alone almost makes him lose it. But he calms himself down, mindful of his current mission: making sure the man in front of him is fucked utterly dumb.

“Who do you belong to?”

The wolf doesn’t—can’t—answer immediately, brain too wired from the cock drilling into him. But he manages to let out a whiny, barely intelligible “you.”

“Are you thinking of anyone else right now?”

Jin shakes his head no, almost violently. He barely knows where he is anymore, let alone any other name besides his Alpha’s. All that he can think about are the eight inches of pure bliss hitting against his prostate, and the big hand that’s sloppily stroking his length.

“Words, brat.”

“No! Only you! Only-ungh-you!”

It only takes a few more strokes for Jin to be pushed all the way over the edge, legs shaking as he rides his high, shooting strings of white on Namjoon’s chest in the process. The sight is all it takes for Namjoon’s orgasm to hit in tandem, all of his senses reaching their heights before disappearing entirely—until the only thing he can feel is the pleasure overtaking every nerve in his body. The two stay still for a moment, both fearing overstimulation from any movement as they stabilize their breaths.

It’s Jin who moves first, gently pushing the Alpha off of him. The two watch, mesmerized, at where they separate: the Alpha’s cum slowly leaking out onto the countertop. It’s so much cum.

“You’re lucky I’m back to feeling nice, or I would make you lick all of it up.”

Jin lets out an out-of-breath chuckle, body still leaned against the mirror, “I won’t waste a single drop next time. Promise.” The tiredness catches up to him, causing his eyes to close on their own as Namjoon cleans the mess.

“Come on baby, we should shower.”

“Too tired.”

“You don’t want to go out there all sticky and sweaty, do you?”

Jin whines for a moment, because the feeling of stickiness and sweat are definitely uncomfortable, but he also can’t feel his legs enough for a shower.

“Fine. But you have to carry me.”

Namjoon laughs while lifting the wolf up, letting him wrap his legs around his torso as he makes his way over to the stall. The warm water runs between both of their bodies, washing away every trace of the lewd acts that were just committed. Every trace except the smell of sex that lingers in the air, mixing with the orange and vanilla of the two hybrids. They stay like that for a while, hugging under the water as Namjoon hums a soft melody in Jin’s ear. Eventually, Namjoon does put the wolf down to properly wash him, supporting both of their body weights as the beta still can’t seem to stand.

“Was I too rough? It’s been so long…”

“You weren’t. I loved it. I love you.” Jin punctuates with a kiss, as deep and passionate as the first one they shared.

“I love you too. I’m sorry about Y/N.”

“And I’m sorry about Yoongi. I know you’re not his biggest fan.”

“So…where do we go from here?” It’s a rare moment, where Namjoon’s the one asking instead of answering. But the look on his face makes it clear that he really doesn’t know.

“We keep each other’s secret.”

Namjoon quirks up a brow as Jin further explains, “We keep it between us, manage our feelings, and the pack never has to know. I’m guessing that’s what you were planning on doing anyway, so just add me into it.”

Damn, Jin really did have him all figured out.

“Okay. We’ll keep it between us.”

Fool-proof plan, right?

____

A/N: Don't worry friends, Hobi was NOT listening to that filth. Baby was watching Netflix with Jimin on the other side of the mansion (after excitedly telling him about therapy <3)

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g @wittyreader

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #ot7 x reader #poly bts #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #hurt/comfort

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leclerced · 4 months

Note

From the prelude to smut prompts; methinks 7 + 9 + Oscar and reader?

heyy j hehe i was gonna make this fluffy drunk friends to lovers but this turned out kinda angsty sorry hun!!

7. “You think we could like… Fuck these feelings out somehow?” + 9. “If you fuck me the way you fuck me up emotionally, I think you’d do a pretty damn good job at it.”

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact! angst? makeup sex? idk what this is tbh i didn’t proofread it

Her breath hitches in her throat when she enters his bedroom and finds him curled up in bed. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Her voice sounds small in the large room, she feels small. He looks small, hidden in the swaddled duvet.

He grunts, “Neither are you.” She feels a pang of guilt course through her at the clear implication she was sneaking in to avoid him.

She winces, “I was getting my clothes. I thought you would be out of town this week.”

“I cancelled.” She doesn’t ask why he didn’t go on the ski trip Lando had invited them on. It was easier for him, probably, to say they weren’t going than to say she wasn’t going anymore and have to explain. She’s grateful she gets to look away from him when she turns to his dresser. She imagines him like this in the chalet and feels worse.

She hears him sit up as she opens her lone drawer. “Are you-“ A sigh cuts his question off. Since he doesn’t finish asking, she doesn’t give any answers. She knows he wants to ask if she’s just wanting her favorite pajamas or if she’s cleaning it out for good. She can’t say.

He’s behind her before she can move away, and his arms trap her between him and his dresser. The pajamas she loves, the soft grey ones, are clutched in her palms. She stares beneath them, at the paired up socks and folded jeans and sweaters. It’s the outfit she wore the last day he was here, so he did laundry. He expected her to come back and wear them another day.

She drops the pajamas in the drawer and nudges it shut with her knee, and he presses himself closer. She lets out a shaky breath as she tilts her head back against his chest and he matches it, sighing again as he leans into her and squeezes the dresser. She turns around and places her hands where her head just was and tilts her head up to him. “You think we could like… Fuck these feelings out somehow?” She’s not sure what feelings she means; the hurt, the confusion, the love. All of the above.

His eyes scan over her features before he retorts, “If you fuck me the way you fuck me up emotionally, I think you’d do a pretty damn good job at it.”

She lets out a laugh even though it’s not funny. She doesn’t know what else to do when her throat tightens at his words and she feels worse about this. He saves her from responding by slamming his lips to hers and pressing her back against the dresser with his body. She whines as he bites her lower lip and the edge of the dresser digs into her lower back, and he steps back to give her room, his hands curling around her waist and pulling him against him so she’s not pressed into it. His kisses always make her dizzy but this one holds so much emotion behind it that it hurts her heart. She pulls back to gasp for air and he drops his head down to her neck, biting and sucking a mark into her throat. She wants to tell him to stop, she curls her fingers into his hair to pull him back but he senses her move and sinks his teeth into her skin a little harder. It makes her knees weak and she presses closer to him as she gasps, and her complaint is forgotten.

His hands find the button of her jeans and she steps out of her sandals, kicking them to the side as he unzips her pants. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs softly to pull them down her hips, a soft groan falling from his lips as he sees the white panties on her hips. “Those always were my favorite.”

She sighs, petting his hair as he crouches before her to pull her pants all the way off. “I know.” I wore them for you. rides on the tip of her tongue but it goes unsaid, like so many things.

She steps out of her jeans when he gets to her ankles and he tosses them aside before both hands grasp her right leg, and he lifts her leg so he can press his lips to her ankle. She rests her elbows on his dresser and watches as he trails kisses up her leg until he reaches the apex of her thigh and sets it down. He repeats the action on the left leg and her heart is hammering in her chest at the action. She wants to kick him away, to grab her pants and put her shoes on and leave because he deserves better, he deserves someone who loves him this much, as much as he loves her.

She ignores the voice in the back of her head as he finally kisses her through her panties, teasing and soft like always. His hands explore her body like it’s the first time ever, after he lifts one leg onto his shoulders both hands roam her body, squeezing her ass and thighs before sliding up to palm her through her bralette and when that’s not enough, push it up over her tits so he can have his hands on her bare breasts. She has the urge to beg him to hurry as he nips at her clit through her panties but she resists. She wants to give him whatever he needs now, even if it’s him torturing her by lapping at her entrance through her panties. Her panties were already soaked, but his spit surely isn’t helping matters.

She tugs on his hair and whines pitifully as his nose rubs her clit. She gives into the urge to rock her hips into his face and he squeezes her tits in response, moaning against her. “I love the way you taste.” He finally pulls away from her, mushing his wet lips against her inner thigh and muffling his words. She slumps against the dresser with a gasp, running her fingers through his hair. He grins up at her, with her head hung back and her top all messed, his hands squeezing her tits. For a moment, she’s his again.

He tugs at her top and she gets the hint, wrangling it and the bralette off in one go. He loves the sight of her hair all messed up and is thankful she doesn’t try to fix it, just drops her hands to his shoulders to tug on his hoodie. He takes it off and quickly pulls his t-shirt off before she can complain. He licks his lips as he looks over her body in front of him and then meets her eyes, and sighs. “Can I say I miss you?”

It hurts to know that he feels the need to ask for permission, like she’s going to leave if he says it without asking first. She nods, “I miss you too. I’m sorry.” She says I’m sorry so he knows I miss you doesn’t mean everything is okay.

He hooks his fingers into her panties and tugs them down her legs and immediately returns her right thigh to her shoulder. He looks up as his mouth meets her pussy and his tongue swipes through her folds, swirling around her clit. Her eyes flutter shut and she moans his name softly. Her hands return to his hair to tug him closer as she leans back into his dresser.

Oscar shows her how well he knows her body and makes her come alarmingly fast. She doesn’t even know it’s happening like usual, she feels it in the pits of her stomach, almost there but not quiet. She knows she’ll come just from his mouth on her clit easily, but then he surprises her by pushing two fingers into her entrance and curling them, and she comes with a surprised shout. He scissors his fingers as he pulls them out and curls them as they push in and the slick sounds filling the room would be embarrassing if she weren’t so turned on. He barely stops after her orgasm passes. he gives her a soft kiss to her thigh as he catches his breath for a moment and then his mouth rejoins his fingers and he brings her to another orgasm in what could be record time.

Her legs are shaky from her orgasms as he removes his mouth and fingers and puts her right leg on the ground. Then he catches her off guard and spins her around before she’s got a good look at him, and she’s blinking at the blank wall where she always told him to hang something, anything.

She whines as his fingers find her pussy again to spread her lips for the head of his cock press against her. He hesitates, “Condom?” She wishes he didn’t ask because it truly is embarrassing how quickly she shakes her head and pushes back against him so the head slips inside, her mouth falling open in a silent moan. He doesn’t ask twice, and wastes no time in pulling out as soon as he bottoms out, and then repeating it. She’s not expecting him to start fucking her without any time to adjust, her hands fly back but he captures them and braces them against his dresser. She wishes he kept his hands on hers because the sight makes her cunt throb, but they abandon her hands in favor of her hips. He holds her in place as he sets a brutal pace, his hip bones slapping against her ass with each thrust.

“You should have bought a mirror for this wall like I told you.” She wishes she sounded more put together, but her voice comes out between moans and pants and her words are shaky.

Oscar laughs, nuzzling his face into her neck. “You wanna watch yourself take my cock?” His voice is as even as ever and the confidence in his words make her clench around him, she feels herself, maybe even his leaking precum, dripping down her thigh and she clenches again.

She shakes her head, “I wanna watch you, I can’t see you like this.”

“You’re the better view baby.” One of his hands moves to her clit and he swirls around it, “Plus, I like having you like this.” His words go straight to her pussy and she flutters around him, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

She gasps, “Feels good.” He murmurs his agreement into her hair and then presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“You gonna come again? Already?” The teasing tone to his voice annoys her, as if it’s not his doing that she’s about to come for a third time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He huffs, “Just that, you’re… I don’t wanna say easy,” She blushes with embarrassment and wishes she could deny it but she huffs, “I haven’t touched myself.” He suddenly freezes, finger on her clit, cock inside of her, pressed against her. “Really?” He sounds genuinely surprised, and there’s something else in his voice that she can’t place. Her orgasm immediately fades away and she squeezes her eyes shut as she squeezes his cock pathetically.

She presses herself against him and moans as his cock reaches deeper inside her and his finger brushes her clit again, “Why’d you stop?”

He press her closer and inhales deeply before he asks, “Why?” It comes out as he exhales and it tickles her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

“I tried, I thought about you and I stopped.” He groans and she feels him twitch inside of her, his hand leaves her clit and finds her wrist and drags it between her legs.

He covers her hand with his and murmurs, “Touch yourself for me, I’ll keep fucking you but if you stop, I stop.”

She rolls her eyes and begins swirling her middle finger around her clit, her finger rubbing against his hand above hers. He begins fucking her again, at the same pace as before and she peels her other hand back to curl into Oscar’s hair as he mouths at her neck. She’s close again all too soon, her thighs shaking as she traces a pattern against her clit, one she knows from habit but can’t place at the moment. She feels Oscar’s lips sink into her neck and she moans his name softly, tugging his hair as his cock brushes that spongy spot deep within her walls. Her back arches as the knot in her stomach tightens. Oscar’s breath is hot on her neck as he teases, “I love the way you say my name.”

The sudden realization of the pattern hits her and she feels herself tumble over the edge as she swirls the s of his name on her clit. He starts to say something again? but his words are immediately interrupted by a moan as his orgasm hits, triggered unexpectedly by the feeling of her gushing around him. He presses her into the dresser as he moans her name, his hips stuttering against hers as he spills inside of her.

Neither of them move for a minute as they catch their breath and recover from their orgasms, but Oscar is the first to do so. He carefully pulls himself out of her and rushes to the bathroom to grab a wash cloth. She’s bent over the dresser with her cheek pressed against it when he returns and he feels his stomach ache with the idea that she’s about to leave him again. He’s careful when he wipes up her legs and between her thighs, and tugs open her drawer to fetch a pair of panties. She thanks him as he pulls them up her legs and out of pure habit he fetches his shirt and helps her into it, pulling her back against his chest and kissing the crown of her head as she raises her hands.

She wants to leave, planned on it until he put panties and his shirt on her and kissed her head. Before he came in her. She pulls the top drawer open and retrieves a pair of boxers before she turns and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s soft and selfish, and then she sinks to her knees and gestures for him to step into the boxers like he’d helped her into his panties. He rolls his eyes at her but concedes and she giggles as she pulls them up and tucks his cock into his boxers. He holds out a hand to help her stand and she lets him, then guides him to bed. She sees the state of the tousled top sheet and duvet and shakes his hand off and begins sorting out the mess.

He sighs behind her, “Don’t bother, I’m just gonna mess it up.” There's a playful lilt to his voice but the words make her sad, thinking about him in his cocoon when she arrived.

She ignores him and straightens out both of them before she crawls underneath and settles in the center of his bed before holding her arms out to him, “Cuddle?" He tosses back the covers and crawls over to her before he drops onto her chest and tugging the covers back into place. She has to wiggle her right arm free to drape it over his back, fingers skimming across his shoulders.

It’s soothing for her, and she assumes him by the way he shifts himself closer and tugs the blanket tighter before mumbling, “Thank you.” She hums in response and he tilts his head up, “For not leaving, I mean.” She hums again, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t say anything else, so she waits until he falls asleep to ensure he’s not going to drop any other heartbreaking sentiments before she lets herself fall asleep.

#ask #golden flora #op81 #oscar piastri smut

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astromaxi · 8 days

Note

Hi!! I saw your post about being open to req's and was wondering if you could do a yandere jjk x reader one!

Snow leopard hybrid gojo would not leave my mind and i've been rotating a scenario in my head about reader smelling a bit too much of other men. But they aren't dating and gojo's is starting to go insane about it and so confronts reader bout it.

i mean you could do it without satoru being a hybrid, i don't really mind. i'm just craving for a yan gojo rn

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE

HOLY SHIT- SCHOOL SUCKS

BUT I'M ALMOST DONE YAY

Warnings: slightly possessive Gojo, crappy writing, maybe full on possessive Gojo, Gojo having a scent kink thing, so mdi (?) 18+ (?), Gojo really loving your smell and but also calling you smelly (I’m scening a slight theme with my writing…)

As always lmk if I miss anything and this isn’t proof read so grammar mistakes 🫶

———-

Fem reader!

‘Jesus Christ I want to quit my job’ was all that was running through my head as I walked up the sets to my home, my feet crying out for relaxation after the horrible treatment of a 9-hour shift. All I want to do right now is to curl up in my bed and cry.

I open my front door, and at the same time, my phone starts to ring off. Huffing I close the door and set down my bag, I awkwardly shuffle through my pockets to see ‘Gojo’ lighting up my screen. An exaggerated sign escapes my lips as I answer the call. “Hello?” My horse voice spoke out, “I’m coming over! I see you off of work” a very happy Gojo responded to me, I looked down at my disgusting work clothes and the overall quality of how I felt, “Gojo- look, I don’t feel like hanging-“ “Great! I’ll be over in 5 minutes.” Was all I heard before the abrupt sound of the call being hanged up. I roughly made my way to my bathroom, if Gojo is coming over might as well look decent.

The thing with Gojo is, that he has been becoming increasingly clingy to me. Especially knowing days when I have work it’s almost as if there’s some sort of thing growing inside himself. I tend to brush him off whenever he buries his head into the crook of my neck, his long lengthy arms curled tightly around my stomach, or when he invites himself to stay the night but insists that I wear his clothes. I brush it off as Gojo being himself as he is usually very overly touching with everyone in his life- but sometimes- sometimes, it feels a little off.

I sighed as I heard my front door opening and closing I wrapped a large towel around my body. I run my fingers through my wet hair as I cringe at it being tangled up. I slip on an old hoodie and a pair of shorts, using the towel to dry my hair I set out of the bathroom and I’m immediately pushed against the wall nearby. My vision gets clouded by a mop of white hair and twitching light grey ears, as Gojo buries his head into the crook of my neck.

“Mm-Gojo!” I yelp in surprise as I place my hands on his solid chest trying to move him off of me

Keyword: trying

Gojo slips his hands down my arms, creating goosebumps in his wake as he grabs my hands with his own and places them around his midsection. His own hands find home on my hips as I feel an aggressive sign flow out of him. “M’ not Gojo, it’s ’Toru to you” his voice is horsed, and Gojo buries his head more into my neck- if that’s even physically possible. “You smell like other guys.” Gojo bluntly says,

I raise my eyebrows at him, my hands are mindlessly playing with his Snow White hair. “What do you mean ‘Toru?” I ask, the man-child before me lets out a groan. He raises his head from my neck and stares at me with his ocean-blue eyes. My heartbeat picks up as I feel my face heat up. Wordless Gojo tilts his head to the side, his eyes turn to something more obsessive. His pale hands travel up my body to cup my face, the air in my lungs gets stuck in there.

“You smell. Every day, every single day you always smell and it’s driving me insane.” He leans into me, our lips inches apart as his eyes dart down to my lips. “You should only smell like me, only be with me. I can give you so much baby.” His right-hand caresses the side of my face. I shake my head

“ ‘Toru you..” I let out a shaky sigh “You don’t want-“ “I know exactly what I want baby.” Gojo cuts me off, his breath growing more aggressive.

His lips move to the shell of my ear. “I want, no- need you baby. I need it so badly you don’t even know the depth of it” he whispers in my ear as he goes back to face me. “You need me to, I’ll prove it to you.” I nodded my head, allured to the words Gojo was feeding me, our lips connected as he immediately pressed the kiss. His arms cage me against this wall. My knees feel like they are going to give out.

“I’m going to show you just how much I need you baby.”

—————

A/n: this isn’t really that yandere, kinda forgot about that while writing this LMAO

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absolutebl · 8 months

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This Week in BL - Korea drops my favorite cameo ever & gives KISSES

Entirely subjective yadda yadda. Organized sorta by favs in each category.

Sept 2023 Wk 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Fri grey) ep 4 of 12 - Well that’s one way to find out if he’s gay, see how he reacts to reading a het sex scene out loud. Yai is flirting so hard it’s like he knows everything.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 4 of 12 - Oh no! I love them. Also cohabitation trope! Also ALL the other ones: hair dry, meet in childhood... GMMTV going no frills with this one.

Hidden Agenda (Sun YT) ep 9 of 12 - Zo’s drama over Pat helping Joke flirt seems awfully manufactured. I’m losing faith in this show. Could GMMTV PLEASE hand JoongDunk a decent script?

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 5 of 10 - Sand & Ray are the only interesting couple, and I’m pretty much only watching for them. They gonna go south fast, tho, and they're already ruined by persistent singing. Ooo. When Sand said Top "stole his ex" did he mean Boston? How gay.

Naughty Babe (Sat YT) ep 2 of 8 - The pronoun conversation had a bonkers translation but I enjoyed the actuality of it. The reasons for Yi's trickery are very convoluted soap opera. But I suppose that is the amnesia trope for you.

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 10 of 12 - Boys. We discussed this already. No sex in onsens! I found this one dull, until the end when LLS showed up. Happy to just have him in everything. Thank you Thailand. Looks like it is a classic ep 11 DOOM next week. Who cares?

Venus in the Sky (Tues iQIYI) 1-2 of 10 eps - The usual Thai pulp claptrap this time a reunion romances in and around a convenience store between a boy who recently quit his job and his former bestie who is now a doctor. Mostly not great acting, plot, or production but the sound is okay and no bad effects or singing (so far), so that’s something. The gay brothers have a fun relationship. It’s vampy and campy but fun. I like it but not sure anyone else would.

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 4 of 10 - The date was cute but I still don’t like the lead or the premise (we moved into Cyrano de Bergerac territory). It’s moving slowly but it seems like we might be over the crush/stalker part of the narrative, so that’s a relief.

Crazy Handsome Rich (Sun Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I just can’t. The sound is too weird. With punch down humor and other issues incoming I may DNF this. You’ve been warned. This ep we got to see LLS with his shirt off. Did anything else happen?

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Jun & Jun (Korea Thur Viki) ep 8fin - No wonder he is everyone’s favorite hyung, boy can read the room like no one else. I love that we got to see exactly how clingy and demanding Choi Jun was always going to be. Only Lee Jun is easy-going enough to put up with him. Also I’ve never watched a KBL with more innuendo. For Korea this was… raunchy. I gotta say had Laws of Attraction not come along, Simon might have been my favorite character of 2023.

Final thoughts on Jun and Jun:

A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. Others boys are sniffing around too. Operative word being "sniffing" as much of this romance involves smell. With a snappy script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and descent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching. With tons of rewatch potential (especially the last few eps), my only caution is this is for fans of the BL genre only, I don’t think it’ll work for anyone else. A solid 9/10 from me. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

I like that Korea is trying high heat, but Taiwan and Thailand are leaps and bounds better at it.

Love Class Season 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 9-10fin -

Omg they so cute as flirty bf. Eeeeeeee! CAMEO!!!!! My fav guest couple ever! So exciting!!!! I love that they intersected with MY Strongberry couple (Private Lessons). I’m not used to this but Holy innuendo Korea, what with Jun & Jun and now this show? It’s a bit much for my gay little heart. The final episode was entirely unnecessary, but it was fun to see them being all domestic and stuff. Maru with his dumb lettuce leaves was hilarious. I feel like I need to rewatch this one to really understand it properly, so I will likely do that soon.

Summary of Love Class 2:

3 couples form within a semester of university: 1. a hyung romance reunion of exes, one of whom has a dangerous past, 2. a friends to lovers romance, and 3. a mature student and TA one night stand + complexities (many aspects of which had me laughing). I enjoyed the characters and dialogue of this show immensely. It was a little bit more breezy and friendly than I was expecting after the first installment, Love Class. I’m not entirely sure Korea can handle multiple couples like this because it definitely felt disjointed, especially the 3rd more mature couple (also my favorite) who probably should’ve had their own series. But it was definitely fun and something different from Korea. 8/10 RECOMMENDED

Also, Korea tried to give us higher heat... that was... interesting. I mean, you tried hon...?

Kisseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) ep 4 of 13(?) - Everyone is a sad sack this ep. Ooooo. Teach/student my favorite. We never get this one. It’s messy. I’m not sure if there is a plot. I’m not sure they’re sure if there is a plot. But I am still enjoying it.

Why R U? (Korea Wed iQIYI) eps 5-6 of 8 - Why is the Fighter character always so frustrating regardless of name or country? Ji Oh stalking his crush via IG is so relatable. He’s very first crush awkward, unsure, and sweet. They also gave a nice kiss - I love the backpack drop (kiss version of a mic drop?) I still hold that if you haven’t seen the original this might not make much sense. But I am enjoying it.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 4 of 8 - Oh goody, another JBL where we have to pay attention solely to what they do and not what they say.

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - Big fat sigh.

It's Airing But...

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 3 of 24 eps - I couldn't get hold of it and I'm not mad. I'm putting it on hold until distribution gets sorted, or icky get their shizz in order (like that'll happen).

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting

9/15 You Are Mine (Taiwan Gaga) Secretary has to deal with grumpy boss.

9/15 Bump Up Business AKA Bump Up Project (Korea movie) suspected cinema release? I don't know much about what's going on. Last status update. Love story between a trainee who is about to debut and a celebrity from the same agency. Kpop boy group OnlyOneOf has signed up to star in this idol-based BL (based on a webtoon). They’ve been auditioning for this since Libido IMHO. You can watch me chronicle their BL MV series in this post. It’s from Idol Romance who will do sad but can do good kisses (Wish You, Nobleman Ryu, Once Again, Kissable Lips, Poongduck 304, Tasty Florida, Tinted With You).

Still To Come In September

9/26 I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan ????) - Adapted from the manga, childhood best friends: The cool, smart one who’s good at everything, and his average, dorky friend who struggles. Always by the other’s side, but not together in the way they truly want to be. No matter how hard they try, their hearts cannot reach each other.

9/27 Absolute Zero (Thai iQIYI) - from 2021, Studio Wabi Sabi and New Siwaj finally bring us this “time loop to prevent tragedy” romance. We don’t always get HEAs from them, so I'm on my guard.

9/27 Bon Appetit (Korea iQIYI) - from 2022, 8 eps from GoGo Studio, romance between an office worker who lives off junk food and the man next door who cooks well.

9/? Mr Cinderella 2 (Vietnam YouTube?)

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I love him. And I love his version of this character better than Jimmy's.

I also love it when a show gets meta. (Both Why R U? Korea) Why they didn't just go for YRU? the world may never know.)

(Last week)

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mitsies · 1 year

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» THE CHAIN, THE KEY ; hiori yō «

; ↠ hiori has never wanted anything as much as he wants you.

## author's note: pulled this outta my ass because i love him so much and the new chapter makes me so emo. i have low expectations bc no one reads for him BUT me ig so :,) if you read, i hope u enjoy ! ## contents: hiori x gn!reader, crushing, developing relationships, DESCRIPTION HEAVY!!, kind of a character study ngl, fluff but it's angsty but it's fluff ## wc: 1.6k

there is an invisible chain that has always tied hiori yō to the ground.

he can’t see it either, but he feels it. hiori has always imagined it to be big and clunky, grey with the beginnings of rust forming at the bottommost links. it weighs heavier than anything he’s felt. he doesn’t need to see it to know that the skin underneath is rubbed red and raw and burning like salt in an open wound.

he wonders if he was born with it, sometimes, or if it was just a byproduct of how he was raised— if he was born to the chain, to be something greater, or if he was just meant to be hiori. he suspects it was the former, though, because he was never allowed the opportunity to be himself. he has lived a life tied down to the 2nd-place space on the podium and pushed up and away to the 1st, to the point where even he is unsure of where he stands. he often wonders- who would he be if not the winner? who was hiori yō, if not the boy with the chain?

he didn’t think he had an answer. not until he met you.

it’s sickening to him, how strange you make him feel. the obnoxious fluttering in his chest makes him nauseated. he thinks he hates your voice, not because of its sound but because it makes him want to know you. he wants to hear you talk in a way he has never wanted anything, and he hates it even more because he lets himself listen.

you’re a physiotherapist in the blue lock facility, an apprentice working beneath your mentor. it should be easy to avoid you, the simplest thing in the world. but he keeps winding up in your presence. maybe he’d think it was fate if he was silly enough to believe in such things. (if fate was real, it wouldn’t be so cruel, he thinks. because quite frankly, it was mean, how he was drawn to you.)

every night, you walked off the facility around 9:30 to catch your ride home. this just so happened to align with his leaving to take a walk. the cold air was often a means of release for him. he thinks his peaceful nights were ruined when he met you.

hiori thinks it’s horrible when he realizes he’s intoxicated by your presence. even with the cold night sky that surrounds the both of you on these evening accompaniments, while he walks you to your stop because that’s what he should do, you become the breath of fresh air.

you refresh him. you’re funny. you’re nice. he likes talking to you. it makes him want to die.

hiori can feel it growing in the cavity of his chest. he feels it spreading to the corners and edges of his mind. this poison, this disease, this blight that you caused. an fond affection for you and only you now resides within him like tendrils of invasive plants, and it feels too awfully similar to the chain that binds him. it muddles his thoughts and clouds his mind.

something bewildering is that he enjoys it. the rose-coloured sunglasses that you allow him to see though are prettier than life without. he laughs at your jokes and he was about to make one back. he feels the vines and clouds inside curl and dance and it’s almost lovely.

the chain pulls at the worst times. he wants to say something back, to reply to your joke, to make you laugh in turn. but when he feels it— the heavy metal shackling his wrists and neck and pulling him the opposite way— his mouth is forced shut. a switch is flipped because it almost physically hurts- it’s painful, how the metal cuts deeper into the preexisting wounds that haven’t yet scabbed over.

hiori pulls away from you when this happens. the plant, not yet flowering, begins to weigh on him heavy as the chain. the closeness to you feels like a burden rather than a gift. it’s horrible, he knows, because you’re lovelier than lovely and you’re special to him in ways that are indescribable. but still, he leaves. still, he bites his tongue and leaves without saying goodbye. still, hiori struggles against his body and his mind, his wants, his needs. still, he runs.

and despite himself, because he knows he shouldn’t, he keeps trying to find you. he seeks you out, he tries, he tries, he tries. and you are always there, always leaving at 9:30pm, always searching right back for him even though he’s never promised to be there. (when he sees you, the vine grows. the vine is budding. the vine will bloom, and flower. he wonders when it will die.)

(it never does.)

hiori hates how he’s so flighty. he hates how he feels and he hates how he’s almost scared when you ask him to hang out, outside of your walks. he says no at first but as soon as you’re about to board your train, he tells you he’s changed his mind.

the smile you give him makes him smile too, and the muscles in his face contort in a way he’s not used to because he means it, this time, he’s smiling for you and for real. he goes back to the blue lock property and almost throws up.

the fondness grows. the chain pulls. the flowers bloom. hiori yō is in love. he has never felt worse.

but you’re patient. you do this thing where you don’t really care— but not in a way that’s distant, no— in a way that’s freeing. you are yourself, separate from him. you let him stay himself, too, whoever that is. you care and you love and you wait, always 1 step away and never moving. it’s like you’re watching, wanting him to step closer but never minding when he feels back. he watches right back— hiori thinks that instead of a chain around your neck, you wear a key.

it’s been months since he’s met you and you’re still waiting for him. he keeps moving forward, then backward, then forward again, and the chain pulls and tugs and pains his skin but the wounds beneath begin to scab over and he thinks that he’s getting sick of being held back.

now, in his mind’s eye, the chain is almost fully rusted. it’s reddish and weak, and it snaps when he kisses you for the first time.

it was a sunday, one of the rare occasions that the players of blue lock had a rest day. they’d decided to go out, and have dinner and go out and do things. teasingly, they’d suggested hiori invite you.

“you know, hiori,” bachira exclaimed, popping up behind his friend’s shoulder in the locker room, “bring y/n! they’re so nice, and you liiiiike them, yeah?”

hiori remains expressionless at his words but inside he thinks there are bombs being launched in his stomach.

“that’s a good idea!” isagi agrees with bachira and hiori almost cringes. “we should invite them.”

so, that evening, hiori asks if you’ll join him and his teammates because he should. he thinks he wants this. he’s not sure.

you look pretty, when he sees you the next day. another flower blooms on the vine. the chain pulls. he tries to ignore it.

you laugh and talk with everyone else and he watches you like he’s waiting for you to disappear. at the restaurant, after the bill is paid he excused himself to go outside for air.

you’re behind him shortly and he’s finally able to breathe. “hiori,” you exhale, leaving a little puff of air visible in the cold night sky, “hi.”

“hey.”

“are you okay?”

he blinks. you still manage to take him by surprise, when you care like that. “yeah. why?”

with a shrug, you turn so your back is facing the restaurant. the view outside isn’t anything special- some trees, a few people, a road in the distance with yellow and white lights that must be cars. hiori is only looking at you.

“you just seemed a little off. didn’t talk much. i was worried.”

he doesn’t reply, and after a few beats of silence you turn to him again.

“i think i wanna kiss you.”

his proclamation is so quiet and sudden that you blink, and he does too. the chain is pulling, and pulling, and it hurts. he ignores the bitter sting, but with every breath with no response, the scabs beneath the shackles are picked away. everything hurts, and he wants to kiss you. the flower is blooming and the roots are tentative, but they are there. he opens his chest and shows you the flourishing life inside. he waits for you to rip it out and crush the petals beneath your shoes. he waits for the chain to pull him away from this— the one thing he’s sure he wants.

“hurry up, then.”

hiori kisses you, and he feels the chain snap. he feels the shackles fall undone at his heels and he feels the weight around his neck being replaced by your hands as you drape your arms around his shoulders. he’s kissing you like you’re oxygen, he’s kissing you like he loves you, he’s kissing you like he wants to, because he does.

hiori decides then, that he will learn your language, and he will speak your name. not because he has to, but because he wants to. hiori yō will love you because he wants to. there is nothing else, no ball and chain, no rope, no noose, no salt, no wounds. he will love you, he can, he will, he wants to. that is enough for him.

it is then that he discovers himself for the first time— an idea, a concept, the beginnings of the someone he was before he became lost— he sees hiori yō, the boy who wants and the boy who will try.

(the chain rusts and decays. the key is alive. the key was you.)

#blue lock x reader #hiori yo x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #hiori x reader #alternative title: hiori has commitment issues #reader insert

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blueparadis · 9 months

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❝ SAVE YOUR BREATH ❞ + SHINJI HIRAKO ❪ playing ⌗7, ⌗8 & ⌗9 ❫─── via radio line ❛ anatomy of emotions ❜〳 from this is what ____ feels like !

[ content and themes ]::f!reader x fwb!shinji hirako, angst, ex! boyfriend aizen souske, fluff; 1k word count. // [ tag index ]

There has always been an awful connection between the monsoons and the morbids in Seireitei. It is the cold. It is the cold that stays after the downpour. It is the cold that makes one feel alone, helpless till sadness strikes your heart. Shinji is aware of this.

However, he can not understand why he feels lonely and helpless on such a bright sunny day. Perhaps in the world of fragile mortals, things work in a different manner. Being a Shinigami for centuries and floating amid the mundanity is an unending road of misery and darkness for him. Shinji does not remember, his memories of this world, but the trail of mishaps from Seireitei to Hueco Mundo he followed led back to the girl he dotes on.

You are sitting opposite to him in a peach-colored floral dress with different-sized roses embroidered on it. It is a delightful colour but you do not look happy. The cafe is crowded and your boyfriend, Hirako attracts every pair of eye that passes by him. His waist-length blonde fall of hair is tied by a strawberry rubber band you left at his place last time. He is wearing a simple full sleeves top with grey jeans.

Shinji speaks stretching one of his arms to keep the cup on the plate, “Do you remember when we first met? ” sustaining his inclined sitting posture. He does not sound sad, or angry. It is hard to pinpoint how exactly he is feeling. Maybe because he is too focused on yours, he worries that you might disintegrate into someone else.

You smile barely as your gaze remains intact, on your thighs. Sucking in a small breath you look up to your boyfriend nodding. “Yes.I do.” You take a sip of tea. “To be honest, of all the people I have met in this life probably yours is the oddest and hence, the most memorable.” Your voice trembles a little at the end.

Shinji asses the way you speak. He is calm, almost too calm. He thinks back on the question he just asked you. He can not say the same about you but that does not mean he has forgotten it, does not mean he holds no regard for all those memories he created with you. If he were to be honest he would say that he has too many options to choose from. He is unable to pick the best. Does he even need to? Can't he keep all of them safe in one place?

Every memory that he has shared with you, spent with you — all those lazy morning brunches that ended with sleeping during the warm afternoon being wrapped with each other under the futon, all those sleepless nights that he spent with you watching the stars, then watching you, kissing your moles and counting them like the stars. He would get bored if he counted the stars in the sky but never when it comes to counting the moles on your body. You kept him on his toes, invested with your cute little reactions to his habits and actions. Sometimes he would watch you cook and listen to how your day went and some other times he would wrap your legs around his waist with his cock shoved inside you, eliciting moans from you, drawing constellations on your skin with his lips and teeth so that when he leaves you think of him and only him.

Shinji has not spoken for almost two minutes. He is falling, drowning in a pool of memories he was never supposed to. He is as silent as a pond. You are like a pebble to him. You have created ripples in his soul that went beyond his imagination. And now those ripples are turning into waves; a pond now slowly distorts into a river. You were just a mission to him, but here he is sitting at a cafe with you, so desperate to find a reason for himself not to go away or to leave you alone. He does not even know if he is getting attached or dependent on you or if is it the other way around. Those tears in your eyes are what confused him.

And that is the very reason why it is so hard to forget, to heal the hurt in you. Shinji has no complaints. He could take away your memories and act like nothing ever happened between you two but would he really be okay with you having to forget him? Probably he saw it coming or a tiny part of him always knew that his relationship with you will not thrive forever. Ever since you saw Souske last week at work you knew you had to end this arrangement with Shinji. This odd arrangement of 'playing boyfriend' to plug the cleft that Souske left behind.

Aizen being back in town changed everything. Shinji realized that he can not keep playing boyfriend for you. He forgot he was here to protect the vessel holding one of the seven keys to open Pandora's box. You might be lying to him by saying the reason for your break up is just you need space and a short break but Shinji knows he deserves it. At least he thinks he does because he had been lying to you all the time about so many things, about the fact that he knows Souske or about the part where he is interested in you just because Souske choose you to be one of his vessels. Shinji exhales deeply. His slouched posture finally breaks as he leans forward, tucking some stray strands behind his ear he admits, “There’s nothing you could have done. I understand. It's okay.”

It is anything but not okay. How could it be? How could he be so serene and inert? You look around the cafe, seeing different types of people — teenagers, elders, couples- and realize how everyone is living entirely different lives from one another, having their own waves. Sonder, they call it, is the realization that everyone has a story.

You press your teeth lines against each other, your vision blurs for a second and your breathing hitches. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.” You mumble. “why does it feel like this is goodbye?”

Shinji tucks a few hair strands behind your earlobes. His lips parted. “because it is one.”

“Here is your order ma'am.” The waiter remarks keeping a pastry in front of you shooting you a quick smile. You look at the waiter for a few seconds and then shift it in front of you. There is no one sitting opposite to you now. You check your phone. There are still five minutes left for the blind date to arrive, the best way to not be tense about it is to eat and what could be better than trying different flavors of pastries?

@underratedcharactercorner @angelshub

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lady-rose-moon · 3 months

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Wildest Dreams || Loki x Reader || 18+

Hellooooo everybody this is the insight into the fic that I shall be hopefully really proud to post! I'm going to post the prologue for you to read in this, let me know your theories in the comments and reblogs about what might be going on <3 I'll be setting up a taglist for this as well so please do tell me if you want to be tagged!!!

PROLOGUE

A golden castle always came to you in a dream, surrounded by beautiful gardens and bluer skies than you’d ever seen on Earth before. There were so many colours in the sky, so many beautiful reflections in your paradise that you could never find in your dull life on Earth. The greenest grass beneath your feet felt softer than any of the grass you’d ever felt before. The gentle breeze seemed to have a faint sense of magic if anyone would believe it as it brushed your hair away. This dream was your paradise, your little getaway from the boring, grey reality you lived in.

Waking up was the worst part of your day, leaving your little slice of paradise hidden away in a dream to return to the Real World. Sitting up in bed, you savoured those extra moments of drowsiness before swinging your legs over the side of the bed and rising to meet the day. After a shower and your hair and skin routine, you started to feel more like yourself but your mind lingered on the beauty of your dream as you counted the coins that would buy you your morning coffee down at your favourite shop a few blocks away.

You grabbed your keys from the dish by your apartment door and headed out into the world, turning the key in the lock before walking away. Stepping out onto the street, you were met with the usual bustle of London and quickly joined the crowd, head low and avoiding any kind of interaction with any other human being. It wasn’t far to the coffee shop but it was far away enough that your mind drew back to your dream, your walk becoming autopilot.

As you thought about the golden palace walls from your dreams, you heard a horn and felt a strong arm grab you around your waist, pulling you close and away from danger. Shocked, you froze as the car zoomed past, a faint ‘watch where you’re going, numpty’ being thrown out of the window with no care for stopping.

“Are you alright?” came a voice from beside you, startling you away from your thoughts and you stared up in shock at the man holding you, the man that had just saved your life. His eyes were a beautiful emerald green, his ebony hair reached his shoulders in beautiful curls and his suit. His suit. A simple one yet the green and gold accents all about it complimented him so well that you couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing such an expensive suit. “Hello?” the man asked, gaining your attention yet again and you startled when you saw a smirk form on his lips as your cheeks heated up with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you replied instantly, pushing away from the man in a hurry, brushing your clothes off then offering him a polite smile, “thank you, for saving my life. Nobody else would’ve done it.”

The man chuckled, bowing his head as his shoulders shook with his amusement. You grimaced, not appreciating this man laughing before you as you assumed he was laughing at how pathetic you sounded. Yet, when he replied, it only shocked you more. “Darling, anyone who would not stand up to the Goddess of Death to save your life is no worthy man. Adieu.”

With that, the man turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. Immediately, you sobered and called out to him, “you can’t say something straight out of a fantasy novel then leave me on my own!”

But the man was gone.

Your day continued as usual after that experience. You grabbed your coffee, headed to your job and worked the 9-5 then proceeded on your way home. It wasn’t exactly an easy day. Angry customers calling up every few seconds, shouting abuse down the phone and you pretending to care as you sipped your long cold coffee and assisted them in the best way possible without hurling abuse right back at the disrespectful pricks.

With a sigh, you began your journey home. The trees were blowing in the breeze, cars filled the streets as was usual for London during rush hour – any hour really. That’s why you secured a job pretty close to home, so you could easily walk there and back in at the most around 45 minutes. You’d almost forgotten the man from this morning until you collided with a hard chest and long fingers reached out to hold you steady.

Looking up, your face paled with embarrassment as you realised that it was the same man that had saved you this morning. His hair was now tied up in a half up-half down man bun but even that suited the man. His suit was replaced with a nice dress shirt, waistcoat and black trousers but damn did he suit them anyway.

“Ah, so you’re the clumsy type, is that it?” the man joked with a grin as your cheeks tinted red and you avoided looking at him. Amused by your behaviour, the man cooed and continued, “don’t be embarrassed, darling, happens to the best of us.”

Scoffing, you pushed away from him and passed him, grabbing your keys from your pocket as you saw your apartment building not that far off. “I’m not clumsy, you just caught me at a vulnerable moment. Twice,” you shrugged and saluted him sarcastically, “adieu.”

As you walked off, the man simply stood watching you, his grin turning to a sad smile as he whispered, “adieu, darling.”

tagging my friendos!! @holdmytesseract @anukulee @lokisgoodgirl @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @stupidthoughtsinwriting @muddyorbsblr

#tom hiddleston #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x you #new fic new me #hopefully this one will actually stick

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katyawriteswhump · 4 months

Text

the power of love (new steve whump/steddie/stobin fic)

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Inspired by a prompt from the awesome @stevie-crow Mainly Steve and Eddie POV, but the prologue is Robin, as she’s central in this too.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Prologue—Robin POV

“He’s gone!” In front of the trailer, Dustin sobs, cradling Eddie’s body in his arms. “He fought like Gandalf the White then sacrificed himself like Gandalf the Grey. He was the g-greatest hero—now he’s gone.”

“No. No way.” Steve rushes to Dustin, crouches beside him. “I know CPR. I got this.”

“What?” Dustin sounds more distraught than ever, tears dripping from his nose, spattering onto all that blood. Eddie’s blood. “Steve, what’s wrong with you? He’s. Gone.”

And Robin?

She stands there like a goose. Watching as the nightmare unfolds further, beneath that evil red-lightning-cracked sky. Not only, after all they’d done, is Vecna NOT apparently dead.

Eddie blatantly IS.

Tears blur Robin’s eyes. Dustin rocks Eddie’s lifeless body to the rhythms of his sobs. Nancy Wheeler—self-contained to the point of creepiness—stands beside her, stock still. Staring. Possibly trembling, though not as bad as Robin.

Steve, however, is still in the denial phase.

He’s gotten Dustin by the shoulders, jostling him away from Eddie. Physically dragging Dustin, then steering him toward Robin. Steve lays Eddie down flat, leans close over Eddie’s face, scrutinising for signs of life.

“Steve, you can’t help him.” Nancy sounds broken enough, reaching out. Not quite daring to touch Steve. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Let’s go.”

Robin kind of agrees with her. No way is she gonna back her up against Steve, though.

He brushes Nancy off anyhow. “I already brought two people back when I was lifeguarding. Neither were breathing. One’s heart was stopped.”

Nancy shakes her head. “The odds of even that are—”

“Christ, gimme space, Nance.”

Steve starts to administer CPR. Robin clings tight to Dustin, who clings back. She wants to close her eyes and deny any of this is happening, though… One miracle has already happened today, right?

That said, from what she’s gleaned from Dustin’s broken descriptions, Eddie’s sacrifice could’ve been the cause of said miracle. Ergo, it was not that miraculous. And possibly, all in vain. Either way, watching Steve work is killing her. He puffs into Eddie’s bloody mouth, then methodically crunches—possibly breaking—his poor ribs.

“Steve, enough!” says Nancy.

“No. I can do this.”

He squeezes Eddie’s nose, blows again into Eddie’s limp form.

“Steve, we—” Nancy gasps. Staggers back. Robin’s heart gives an actual jump.

“Eddie!” Dustin buries his fingers under his stupid little Ewok hood—was he supposed to look like an Ewok? She’s gotten no clue anymore—and throws himself forward, colliding heavily with Steve.

Robin’s witnessing her first undoubted miracle of the day.

Eddie’s eyes are open. He’s choking and spluttering blood and he’s... alive. Steve enfolds arms around him and raises him a little, tugging his collar, helping him breathe.

“I gotcha, Munson. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The next few minutes pass in the blur. Eddie vomits out a ton of blood, which makes Robin gag too, so that’s fun. Then, shakily, with Steve’s help, Eddie rises to his feet. He’s a ghastly, greenish-white and looks… like somebody who’s just died. Which is fair enough.

He’s still not said a word. Which is not very Eddie.

“Are we sure,” Robin whispers to Nancy, “whether Steve has actually revived Eddie or if he’s been possessed by some twisted ghoul from the Upside Down?”

Nancy replies with an exasperated glare. Steve, meanwhile, hooks Eddie’s arm over his shoulder and makes for the trailer, face set with a grim determination. Robin helps Dustin, who’s limping badly.

They struggle back through the ceiling. Back out of the Upside Down, and through the place where Chrissy was mangled to death.

“It’s astonishing I’ve not been barfing constantly the past few days,” murmurs Robin to Dustin.

Dustin sniffs, rubs his pink eyes.

They’ve just exited the trailer back home, when that earthquake shit hits the fan again. A massive, fiery fissure swallows the trailer whole.

...

Chapter 1

Eddie POV

He figures he must be in shock.

He has no clue how he got where he is—sitting on a posh couch, in some open plan fancy-pants living room. His eyes are wide open, have been for some time, yet only now is he actually beginning to really see anything, to take stuff in.

Robin is staring at him, like…

…like I just died or something!?!

Some decidedly disturbing memories trickle back.

Oh. Shit.

She jabs at him with an antiseptic wipe, which she’s trying to smear up and under his distressingly blood-drenched Hellfire club t-shirt. The wipe is cold and stings like a bitch.

“Uuuuh, Robin?” His throat is raw, his voice wrecked.

“Eddie!” She springs up off the couch.

“What the heck is going on?”

“It is you, right? You’re not possessed, or—”

“Noooo. I believe it’s lil’ old me. I… I’m goddamn confused and have a distinct memory of… choking on my own blood.” Explains the gritty gunk lining his mouth and his throat, the disgusting taste. “And then… then…”

He’s pretty damn sure he passed.

When he tries to remember that part… Nope, his brain don’t wanna, so he’s not gonna. He sure as hell recollects the not-entirely-unpleasant memory of Steve Harrington’s mouth plastered over his, marred by yet more gargling with blood, then…

“Okay, I’m gonna take on trust you’re you.” Robin doesn’t sound convinced. “So… Henderson was adamant you were dead, but then… Uh, you weren’t. Awesome as Steve is at CPR, let's assume you never really were, or that death happens differently in the Upside Down, or you weren’t as badly hurt as it seemed, or something along those lines, because… Uh, not like I’ve looked everywhere, as I think we’ve all been violated enough today, but…” She facepalms, reddening beneath her freckles. “Sorry… prattling. As I said, I’ve not checked you everywhere, but… Eddie, you don’t even seem that badly munched.”

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Cool?”

Robin gives him a glass of water, and he takes a sip. Wipes his mouth on a table napkin lying close then takes a glug. God, he’s never been so parched.

She settles opposite him, on another plush couch. “Does it hurt?”

Eddie puts down the empty glass and performs a brief body scan. Sticks his hand up his shirt, which comes back predictably bloody, but it’s gritty, dry blood. His wounds have pretty much knitted up. “No. Well, it’s kinda itchy. Um, Where the heck are we? This place isn’t yours.”

“No. It’s Steve’s.”

“You’re kidding?” Eddie’s voice comes out embarrassingly high pitched. “His parents see me, they’ll call the cops and—”

“Chill. His parents are out of town. They’re literally never here.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s… um… He said he fancied a swim. Go figure. Hey, you hungry?”

“Maybe some cereal,” mumbles Eddie, which is bullshit, because he’s not hungry. However, he’s starting to shiver, and he’s verging on losing his shit, and… he needs something to feel normal. He might as well try chewing cereal, because right now, he’s chewing his nails like he’s back in third grade.

I died. I goddamn died.

The glory of the Master of Puppets is way more of a distant dream than his recollections of being caught at the heart of that be-fanged whirlwind of death. That’s crystal-frickin’-clear. Those flapping fiends ripping into him, his defences faltering, his knees buckling… choking… drowning… the searing pain… and Dustin’s tears.

Crap, Dustin!

“There you go.” Robin dumps the packet on Eddie’s lap, a bowl and milk on a nearby glass table. “They only have the boring overpriced brands.”

Eddie stares stupidly at the packet. “Dustin… Is he okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s shaken. I guess we all are. Wheeler took him to get his ankle looked at. He’s… thrilled you made it. He thought you were a goner.”

Yeah. I was. I really, really was.

“Robin, how the heck am I here?”

Her mouth opens. Snaps it closed again.

The sliding doors open, and Steve steps in. Momentarily, the undiluted horror of Eddie’s recent existence evaporates. Steve looks mighty fine, dripping wet, his modesty preserved by a small-ish towel around his waist. There are scars around his throat, fresh ones piled upon the old, though really, nothing that spoils that super-hot torso…

…until he lifts the hand he’s clasped on his side, where the bats had gotten him when they went through Lover’s Lake. It’s soaked in blood. The white towel tucked beneath is slowly turning pink.

“Oh my God!” Robin launches at him, as he staggers forward, swaying slightly. “Why the hell did you think getting your wounds wet would help, dingus? There’s literally no logic there.”

“Jesus, it didn’t make anything worse. Swimming always… uh… clears my head.” She grabs him and steers him toward the seating area.

They’re almost there, when the whites of Steve’s eyes flash up. He crumples limply against Robin, who squeaks at the sudden weight, and slings him toward Eddie’s couch to break his fall.

...

Part 2

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Also now on AO3

#steve harrington whump #steddie #steddie fic #platonic stobin #stobin #stranger things fanfic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson lives #current wip

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 ao3

Eddie stirs to someplace just outside of sleep at the sound of voices. They’re not loud enough to wake him up all the way; even the occasional bout of laughter sounds like it’s stifled, like they’re trying to keep quiet.

He gets one eye open, sees a blur of Robin’s beige jeans and suspenders. There’s a quick flash of grey in the corner, one of Steve’s crutches, and he realises that Steve must be just out of view, trying to trip her up.

More giggles.

“You’re such an asshole!”

“Shh!”

“You shush, you just tried to injure me.”

“I barely touched you.”

Eddie hears a little creak nearby, blearily glances somewhere above to find Steve leaning on the arm of the couch, looking down at him with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” Steve says, hushed. “It’s still early, you can go back to sleep if you want. Robin just can’t tell the time.” And he ducks suddenly, as if avoiding a blow. He glances over his shoulder, sticks out his tongue and says, “And she’s violent.”

Eddie blinks slowly at Steve. Feels himself smile. “…’Kay,” he manages, tired but amused.

He just catches something that sounds a bit like, “Oh, Steve, he’s so sweet,” and, “You wake him up again, you’re getting a crutch to the head, I swear to God,” but he fades back into sleep before he can really process it.

When he wakes up again, it’s to the smell of toast just on the cusp of burning, the T.V on. His head rests by Steve’s thigh; when he glances over, he sees that Steve is sitting on the couch, facing the T.V head on, his leg propped up by a stool again. There’s a plate of toast in his lap.

Eddie rubs his eyes, raises his head a little—spots the moment when Steve notices that he’s awake, the lovely way his eyes light up.

“Hi,” Steve says.

Eddie yawns out a, “G’mornin’.”

Steve nods down at the toast. “Want some?”

Before Eddie can reply, Steve is already halving the slice, passing one to him. He wakes up further after that, lifting his head up a little more to peer at the T.V—makes out a quaint cabin before Steve’s speaking again, voice lowered thoughtfully.

“You look better.”

And from Steve’s slight gesture, tapping at his own cheek, Eddie gets the meaning: that he must look less pale.

Eddie finishes his slice of toast, sits up on his elbow. Robin’s sat on the floor, back to him, seemingly captivated by the movie.

“I feel better,” he says, matching Steve’s quiet volume, adds a teasing, “Was I lookin’ real rough?”

“Hideous,” Steve says without missing a beat.

Eddie prods him in the side. Then he’s finally awake enough to appreciate what they’re watching: Doris Day singing about ‘A Woman’s Touch’ in a way that he suspects is not all that heterosexual.

Steve half-succeeds in hiding a yawn behind his cup of coffee.

Robin suddenly turns around accusingly. “Uh, Steve Harrington, the least you could do is pay attention to this when you’re the one who started the whole—”

“Rob, I’ve never seen the movie before! I just call you Calamity Jane ‘cause you knock shit over, all the time.” He makes a little series of explosion noises in demonstration that are so damn stupid, that Eddie can’t even reign in his grin. “You know, like, bam, bam, the tapes are everywhere! A calamity.”

“Oh my god, you knock over the cardboard cutouts every shift! Name one time that I—”

“Uh, hello? Last December? You ruined my whole Christmas display!”

“Oh well, that’s different. That was on purpose.”

Steve gives a mock offended gasp, nudges Eddie as if to say, Can you believe this shit?

“Keith’s the biggest Grinch ever, dude, I was providing ambience.” He stresses the word like he’s making a point, as if him and Robin are trying to one up each other on vocabulary or something.

“Yeah, you provided so much ambience when you shushed that dude ‘cause you wanted to keep watching Miracle on 34th Street.”

When Eddie snorts, Robin shuffles over to the couch, tilts her head back to grin at him upside down.

“This guy stood at the counter for days, Eddie. He said ‘ahem.’ Like, he didn’t cough, he literally said the word. And Steve just…” She folds her arms, heaves a sigh and mimes checking her nails.

Eddie starts to laugh.

“He deserved it. And he was interrupting the court case, Robin. Fred Gailey’s big moment!”

“Are you a Christmas movie nerd, Harrington?” Eddie asks, “‘cause I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No-one has any sense of culture here.”

Robin makes a huff of protest, waving her arms pointedly at the T.V. “Um, hello? You’ve got art right in front of you, dingus. Ooh, and speaking of Christmas, uh, sorta. I have presents.”

She reaches for a backpack leaning against a pile of videos, then brings out two clearly ‘homemade’ mugs, the handles comically thick.

“Since when do you do pottery, Buckley?” Eddie asks.

“Since town hall decided that putting on a load of arts and crafts would help us forget everything. Like, did you all just get nearly destroyed? Bummer. Can we interest you in some clay?”

As she speaks, she nudges the mugs over to the side of the coffee table, where Eddie’s left the gift bag she already gave to him.

Eddie smiles. “You don’t need to keep giving—”

“Nope, it’s too late,” Robin says, somehow grinning and looking deadly serious at the same time. “This is your life now, Eddie—every birthday and Christmas, you better be ready.”

It’s a joke—Eddie knows it’s a joke, but he also knows that she means it, and that’s…

It’s the implied permanence that hits him, really: the thought that their friendship isn’t just one created through fear and survival instincts, through necessity. That it’s here to stay.

He clears his throat before he can do something stupid like actually get all choked up about it. Again.

Thankfully Robin provides the perfect distraction, reaching into the bag once more and saying, “So Steve, you were gonna get a mug, too, but I kinda messed it up…”

She brings out a lump of clay that perhaps in a very generous past life was once almost a mug. It wouldn’t have looked too out of place as an amorphous blob of Something crawling out of The Upside Down.

“Robin,” Steve says flatly. “What.”

“Ta-da! It’s a…”

“Thanks for giving me the weapon I’ll use to murder you.”

“…paperweight!”

“Oh, in your world, maybe.”

Steve plays up the offended look so well, all slack-jawed disbelief, that Eddie wonders if it’s possible to crack a rib from trying not to laugh.

“No, no, it’s got an old school charm,” Eddie says—immediately has to speak through a giggle when Robin points to him triumphantly, as if that had been her goal all along. “Like, murder mystery prop. It was Harrington in the living room with the paperweight.”

Steve rolls his eyes, knocks their shoulders together. “Don’t encourage her, man.”

But then Steve catches Robin’s eye, and it’s a fleeting moment, but Eddie watches as Steve’s eyebrow rises almost imperceptibly, as if asking for permission without words. And Robin’s expression softens in a way that Eddie doesn’t quite understand. She nods ever so slightly. Something passes between them.

Then the moment’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey, Robin,” Steve says, grinning like butter wouldn’t melt, “who were you doing pottery with?”

“Who says I was with anyone?”

“Oh, me. I say.”

“Well, she had to show me how to—”

“Ah-ah-ah! So, she had to—”

“Ugh, fine! Yes, it was Vickie.”

It’s Steve’s turn to look triumphant. Eddie looks on as he beams, wide enough to show that one of his incisors is a little crooked, and it’s so goddamn endearing all of a sudden.

“And? You were yourself, huh?” Steve asks Robin, sounding smug, like he’s saying I told you so. “You had to be—only you could make,” he waves a hand at the ‘mug’, “that.”

Robin scoffs, but Eddie can tell that she’s fighting a smile. “You’re so full of it.” “C’mon, gimme some material to work with, Rob! You met on a… something-something day.” Steve clicks his fingers at Eddie. “Adjective?”

Eddie glances between them both, their joy infectious. After a sufficiently dramatic pause, he says, “Serendipitous.”

“Seren—” Steve does a double take, gives Eddie a look like he’s just sunk a winning shot from wherever-the-fuck on the basketball court. “Yeah, what he said.”

“Okay, cool your jets—”

And oh, Eddie smiles to himself; that’s definitely a Steve-ism that Robin’s picked up.

“—it’s not like we—like, yeah, she told me she broke up with her boyfriend, but we didn’t really confirm anything, or—”

“Oh my god,” Steve groans, “I’m gonna suffer through this for years. You’ll just keep making mugs for each other, over and over without actually talking—”

“Don’t be silly,” Robin says, “I’m giving all the mugs to Eddie, catch up.”

Eddie reaches down, messes up her hair until she lunges for his in revenge.

“I s’pose there are worse things,” he says, laughing when she thumps him with a cushion.

He thinks of “I’m glad we’re weird.” How before, it was Casablanca references and shared secretive smiles, and now it’s something louder, jubilant.

And Steve knows.

He slips upstairs to use the phone in Steve’s bedroom, brings the piece of paper where he’d written down the number from Hopper.

“Ring if there’s any trouble,” Hopper had instructed—and Eddie knows that probably meant if he was in trouble, but…

He doesn’t have to wait long before his call is answered—and to be honest, when Hopper said a private number, Eddie had kind of assumed that it was a private number for the man himself.

So hearing the nasally, bordering on chipper voice of a stranger throws him a bit.

“Hello? …Hellooo? Listen, I’ve been assured that this line cannot be tapped, so you better not be the Feds. I mean, thank you kindly for the courtesy call if you are, nice to have some warning for once.”

“Um.” Bewildered, Eddie temporarily covers the receiver. Double-checks the number. No, he’d definitely dialled right… “Sorry, uh, I—who am I speaking to?”

“My goodness, a voice! Hallelujah! Oh, you’re the kid, aren’t ya?”

“What?”

“You know, one minute you’re just a kooky high school outsider, you play a board game or whatever that gets everyone a little spooked, yadda yadda yadda, now you’ve up and started a satanic cult?”

Eddie feels a flicker of anger through his trepidation. “I didn’t start a—”

“Phew, relax,” the increasingly annoying stranger says. “I’m just messing with you.”

Maybe the fucker can somehow sense the way Eddie is gripping the phone tightly, or maybe the silence just speaks volumes, because when he starts talking again, he actually sounds a little apologetic.

“So. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot here. Sorry. It’s been a wild few years, kid, my sense of humour’s shot. Name’s Murray. I’m a friend of Jim’s? Jim Hopper?”

And at that, Eddie feels some of his anger start to cool. He trusts Hopper, trusts the way him and Joyce looked out for Steve; knows that Hopper wouldn’t have given him this number lightly.

So maybe he can trust this Murray, too. Even if the guy’s pissing him off.

“It’s Eddie, right?” Murray prompts. “You called for a reason, huh?”

Ring if there’s any trouble.

Eddie pushes the lingering irritation aside and takes a deep breath—tells him about Nancy, about Jason holding her at gunpoint.

“Ah,” Murray says, and there’s more of an edge to his voice now, like he actually cares, and Eddie thinks good. “She, ah, neglected to mention that. Okay.”

The rapid scratching of a ballpoint pen against paper. “I’ll speed up some things. Sounds like his parents have got a troubled young man on their hands—they’ll wanna uproot sooner rather than later. For his own good.”

Eddie can’t help it; he shakes his head in disbelief. “What, just like that?”

“Look, I don’t have a magic wand, but… you’d be surprised at how easily certain folks take… uh, well, bribes would sound unseemly to them. Let’s say they’ll come to an agreement.”

“…Okay,” Eddie says, hesitant.

Murray hums in response; Eddie can hear the creak of a swivel chair, like he’s leaning back against it.

“There’s eyes on him, got it? Trust me when I say there’s lotsa people that just want all of this to go away, nice and quietly. And uh, I’ve been round the block a few times. Got enough leverage to take a story, water it down until it’s just ripples in the pond, softly softly, yeah? No big, crazy headlines this time. Target’s off your back.”

Eddie pauses. Presses the phone against his forehead. I understood, like, fucking none of that.

“And… Hopper trusts you with—everything?”

Murray laughs. “I know, it’s a miracle. I jest, I jest. Yeah, he does. Look, from what I’ve heard, you kids have been through the ringer. Let us handle some of it.”

Eddie breathes out. Jumps when he hears a knock at the door, relaxes at the sound of Dustin’s persistently upbeat shave and a haircut rhythm.

“Okay,” Eddie repeats, sounding a little more certain. “Uh. Thanks. Thank you. For… yeah. There’s—I’d better—”

Murray laughs again. “Oh, that’s right, you’re with Steve.” His voice goes singsong and reedy when he says Steve’s name.

Eddie frowns. “Yeah, what’s that supposed to—”

“Nothing, nothing. Well, Mr Not A Cult Leader, I won’t keep ya. Anything crops up, just call and I’ll be… well, I’ve got karate on Fridays, 1 to 3. That one’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid.”

Eddie huffs out a bemused laugh. “I mean, no offence or anything, but I hope I don’t have to call you.” He fiddles with the phone cord, mutters, “Just kinda want a quiet life, y’know?”

Murray chuckles. “Yeah, kid. I can respect that.”

When he reaches the top of the stairs, the front door’s already wide open, Dustin leading from the front as the whole troop of kids surge through the hallway. They’re chatting all over the top of each other, chaotic and joyful, and as they reach the kitchen, he hears Robin call out a gleeful, “Hey, it’s the von Trapps!”

And Eddie can’t help thinking that maybe all of this feels a bit like a Christmas movie, actually.

He shuts the front door, gets a glimpse of what looks like a pizza van driving away.

When he turns around, Max is standing there alone. She’s looking down at the floor, fidgeting with one of her hoodie sleeves.

“Is Steve charging you rent yet?” she asks.

Eddie smiles. “Don’t tell him, think he forgot to. I kinda like freeloading.”

There’s a pause, and then she darts forward. It’s quick, barely lasts a couple of seconds before she disappears off to the living room—but Eddie has just enough time to squeeze her shoulders and murmur, “You’re good, Red.” -

El has the casting vote in them deciding to watch Mary Poppins—“You only chose that cause she can move stuff like you,” Will teases, to which Mike laughs, no longer as quiet as before.

Eddie catches his eye through the rowdiness and Mike nods with a little smile.

“See him?” Robin says, nudging Dustin when a little dog in a checked jacket appears on screen. “That’s you.”

Lucas starts giggling, and that soon makes Max break, too—a little reserved, but it’s still a welcome, bright sound.

Eddie’s fetching the ice-cream Erica had brought, when he hears Steve come up behind him.

“Harrington, go away.”

“Wow, what a charmer.”

“I mean it! Go sit down.” Eddie indicates the tubs of ice-cream, says, “Think I can handle this.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve raises an eyebrow, smiling. “Where are the spoons then?”

Eddie very confidently throws open a drawer at random.

Steve’s smile broadens. “Cool, I’ve always wanted to eat ice-cream with a can opener.”

“You can go off some people, y’know.” Eddie heaves a defeated sigh. “Fine, show me where the spoons reside in your maze of a kitchen.”

It’s when he’s turning for the correct drawer that Steve indicated—“On your left… your other left, dude,”—that Eddie hears it.

Gentle humming.

It stops and starts, skips past a few notes. Repeats the chorus just because, at a relaxed pace, like someone taking a stroll through the song. But Eddie recognises it. Would know it anywhere.

“Steve,” he says, almost a whisper—and when he turns back round, he sees Steve’s eyes widen a little in surprise, and the humming stops.

Oh, you didn’t even know you were doing it.

“Yeah, funny story,” Steve says lightly. He reaches past Eddie, opening the cutlery drawer, rummaging for spoons. Humming again.

God, you make it sound so… happy, Eddie thinks.

“There was this guy,” Steve says, all nonchalant, but his lips are twitching. “I don’t know, man, he just kept singing. Couldn’t get it out of my head.”

Eddie manages to smile. He pretends that one of the ice-cream lids is stuck, buys himself enough time so his voice is steady when he speaks.

“That sounds really annoying.”

Steve laughs. “No, I don’t think so. It… He was the best.”

By the time everyone else leaves, one side of Steve’s cast is covered in signatures and doodles; there’s even a game of tic-tac-toe with ‘FUCK’ underneath in capital letters, presumably in response to whoever won.

Eddie’s secret favourite comes in the form of two little stick figures holding popcorn: Max and Lucas arranging to go to the movies.

“There’s space,” Steve says, gesturing to the markers Will left behind, “if you wanna…”

And Eddie knows an invitation when he hears one.

He gets the idea as he’s reaching for a pen, briefly closes his eyes to recall the class of ‘85.

Steve catches on after the second signature, laughs. “Woah, are those—? How do you even remember…?” He points. “You even got how she dotted her ‘i’s with a heart.”

Eddie shrugs at the praise, pauses in thought before adding another scribble. It’s shaping up okay, this imagined replica of Steve’s yearbook.

“I’ve gotten good at forging notes. Another little money earner.”

Steve raises an eyebrow in interest. “Notes?”

“You know, like, hall passes, doctor’s notes… Unlike certain weirdos in this room, some people wanted to get out of gym.”

“Ha ha. Okay, but this is more than doctor’s notes, Eddie.”

“Uh, yeah, I can—memorise handwriting, I guess?”

“More than guess, dude. Shit, you could steal someone’s credit card with this.”

Eddie smirks. “I pinky swear that I’ve only used my skills to facilitate truancy.” He doodles a few stars, adds more thoughtfully, “I’ve signed many a yearbook in my time.”

“You didn’t sign mine.”

Eddie looks up, grinning. “Oh? Do I detect a note of offence, there, Harrington? You never asked me to.”

He imagines for a moment, with faint amusement, what that would’ve been like—the looks they would’ve gotten if Steve handed his yearbook over to him. Then he wonders if that would’ve even mattered.

“Oh, hold on,” Eddie says, “gotta make it realistic.”

He leans forward and adds a bunch of hearts to a few of the girls’ signatures, cackles when he rounds everything off with some ‘xoxo’s.

When he looks over, Steve’s face is going red. “Oh my god, literally none of them did that.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“High school crushes don’t even mean anything, dude.”

Eddie snorts. He’s overheard enough cafeteria gossip to presume otherwise. “Interesting premise. Continue.”

Steve stutters. “I mean it! I guarantee half the time, more than, they—the whole thing happened just ‘cause I was there, I could’ve been anyone. You dick, stop laughing!” “Jesus Christ, Steve.” Eddie’s stomach hurts; he can’t stop giggling. “I guarantee you that no-one was crushing on King Steve just ‘cause of, like, general proximity.”

General proximity, Steve mouths mockingly, but there’s still a pink tint to his cheeks. “Uh, thanks. I’ll take your word for it.”

Eddie’s giggles finally start to abate. He puts a cap on the marker he’s holding, tosses it aside. “You know,” he starts, trails off with another little laugh, “I used to think you were playing the long game with that nickname. Like, you started it as an elaborate ploy to get Prom King.”

Steve chuckles. “Oh, jeez. I didn’t even want Prom King, man, not really.”

“Yeah, don’t blame you. Christ, that shit was boring. Almost considered pulling a Carrie, just to make it more lively. ‘Cept chocolate pudding or something instead of pig’s blood.”

Steve gives a joking nod of approval. “God, that movie. Y’know we put it on at work, and Robin said the worst bit is the waiting, like for the bucket to fall? The suspense?”

“Yeah.” Eddie tilts his head, considers Steve. “You don’t think so?”

Steve shrugs. His smile turns bittersweet. “Guess I’m used to waiting for things to, um… happen.”

Unbidden, Eddie thinks of Steve sitting cross-legged in his bedroom, managing to smile, to laugh right before—

“Robin hated the whole scene, the build-up, everything. Kept complaining ‘bout the bottom dropping out of her stomach.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“See, I told her she was wrong though! ‘Cause in that whole movie, the blood, the powers, whatever—”

“The deaths?” Eddie says wryly.

Steve waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Still, outta all of that, the scariest thing is the mom, right? You know.” His voice lowers in a hushed imitation: “They’re all gonna laugh at you. God, I ignored, like, three customers in a row while that scene played.”

Eddie tries not to stare. He picks at a thread on the couch, considers the thought that horror isn’t just blood and screams. That it can be quiet, too.

Steve gives a long sigh. Whispers, as if to himself, “Lighten up.” Then he says, louder, “What were we talking about, before?”

Eddie thinks. Makes a face. “Crushes.”

Steve laughs like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Okay, back to crushes, then.”

“Ugh. Must we?”

“I kinda thought I had a crush on Robin.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinks a few times in quick succession. “Shit, man, I’m sorry.”

But Steve scoffs with a smile. “Would you listen?” he says, and it sounds a bit like when their damn French teacher would stress, “Écouter et répéter!” He throws a stray pen at Eddie. “I said I thought I had a crush on Robin. Thought.”

Eddie catches the pen. Throws it back. “Okay, okay. Listening. Uh. Why…?”

Steve huffs in contemplation. “Well, I kinda thought that’s what people do, right? Y’know, summer vacation, nothing else to do but, like, go to the mall. Catch a movie. Look at someone and think oh yeah, it’s you. You know what I mean?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, and he intends for it to sound flippant, but he doesn’t think he achieves that at all. If anything, he sounds quietly amused—fond even. Can’t help but be a little charmed by the thought of Steve viewing summer like that, all rose-tinted and hopeful.

And you say I’m the romantic.

“You were the one living the ‘All-American boy’ life, Steve. You tell me.”

Steve laughs, wrinkles his nose. “Pretty sure I wasn’t, man. So then, I spilled to her. And, uh, obviously like, you know, it wasn’t gonna happen. But then I…” He laughs again, tender. “I felt relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause… I don’t know, I’m shit at explaining this kinda stuff. The whole summer, I thought well, I’m a guy, she’s a girl, she makes me laugh, guess that’s just how it goes. And then when… I realised oh, I can just. We can still, like, hang out? She can still make me laugh, and I—I don’t have to… we can just be friends. And I—I liked that we could just… be like that. Loved it. Still do. Is… is that weird?”

“Nah.” In all honesty, Eddie thinks that’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever heard. “No weirder than me, anyway.”

He takes a deep breath, then realises for once that this isn’t scary. With Steve, it isn’t scary.

“I guess I’ve always sorta… known who I liked.” He smiles, adds tongue in cheek, “I know you think high school crushes don’t mean anything, but—”

“Ignore me, man,” Steve says quickly. “I didn’t mean—I was just talking about, like, the stupid shit.”

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. Well, my first… it was earlier, actually, in middle school. This boy… he moved outta state that Christmas, but… Damn, it’s silly. He lent me a pencil. Said I could keep it. And then I—” Eddie exhales, laughs. “Couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes. And then… that’s how I knew.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly. And that’s all he says, his lips parted like Eddie has told him something precious.

Eddie smiles, happiness and sadness battling it out. “Then, uh… well, I caught on pretty quick. Worked out that I couldn’t exactly… I wasn’t ever gonna be dancing with who I wanted to at prom, y’know?”

Steve lets out a forceful sigh. “The fact that—” And then it’s like the words choke him for a moment, because he has to start again. “The fact that some people can’t—can’t—” He swallows, adds a disjointed, “That they can’t—just because other people are awful makes me—” Another sigh, a little shakier than the first. “Makes me really fucking angry, sometimes.”

“Well shit, Steve,” Eddie says faintly, because it looks like Steve might actually cry over him, which… he doesn’t know what to do with that. “Don’t get cut up about it. I’m fine.”

“I know you’re…” Steve tips his head against one of the cushions, like he’s trying to hide his face. “Just… just let me be sad about it, Eddie. And it’s not—” He frowns, clearly mulling something over, so Eddie doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t mean it like a poor you, if only you weren’t… kinda thing, okay? The world sucks. Not you.”

“Got it,” Eddie murmurs.

He slowly travels up the couch, until him and Steve are side by side. Steve turns his face away, but the hidden tears on his lower lash line are revealed in the light.

“Hey,” Eddie says gently. He reaches out and catches the tears with his thumb. “It’s not worth that, sweetheart.”

Steve closes his eyes. Opens them. “Yeah, it is,” he says. It sounds like Yeah, you are.

Eddie smiles. He brushes away any tears that have clung on, just a couple trickling down Steve’s face. “Sweet of you to say so.” You’re sweet.

Steve smiles. Winces a little. “Not really. Check my yearbook, man. I was a real asshole.”

“Now why would I do that,” Eddie says, “when I could just look right at you?”

And he can tell that Steve’s taken the wrong thing from that entirely—spots the way he looks down.

So, fuck it. Eddie says the next thought out loud, as clearly as he can. Keeps his hand cupping Steve’s cheek for a second longer, even though the tears are gone.

“You wanna know what I think? Too bad, I’m telling you anyway. I think… that you’re a kind soul, Steve Harrington.”

Steve blinks. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The silence says it all. You’d be one of the first to say so.

“And you know me,” Eddie says, knocks their foreheads together until he feels Steve let out a quiet laugh. “My word is God, so. You better believe it.”

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #robin buckley #steve and robin #eddie and robin #murray bauman #eddie and murray #eddie and max

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roosterr · 1 year

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guardian angel ✹ ch 2

note: hello hello, I'm back again with more nikolai! I hope yall enjoy the continuation of this story, since I wasn't really planning on it when I wrote the first part and honestly i'm not sure how to feel about it lol anyways ENJOY!!

pairing: nikolai x gn!reader

word count: 3.1k

no use of y/n, no description of reader

I've retroactively given reader the callsign 'kilo 0-9' bc just referring to them as sergeant all the time felt a bit weird lol.

summary: the culmination of your efforts from your last mission leave a lot to be desired, but you're prepared to do whatever it takes to get your objective done.

warnings: canon-typical violence, fluff, soft nik, english speakers attempt at russian,

ao3

[one] || [three]

the night is quiet, calm – a rare moment of peace in the chaos that appears to be your life. the night air is cool, a welcome contrast to how sweltering the day had been; no matter how much time you spend here, it seems you'll never truly get used to the urzikstanian sun. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be rising soon which meant you'd be back to work in a few short hours.

as you gaze up into the starry abyss, your mind in the clouds, you fail to notice the sound of footsteps approaching from behind you. a presence in the corner of your eye startles you back to reality, snapping your head to face them as your heartbeat picks up.

with a small sigh of relief, you realise it's nikolai, sitting down beside you and mirroring the way you're leaning back against the low wall behind you. he regards you with an easy smile, and now your heart is racing for an entirely different reason.

"i didn't mean to scare you, милая." he chuckles, stretching one leg out and resting his elbow on his knee. there's so little space between you, you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and it takes a great deal of restraint to stop yourself from shuffling any closer.

"it's alright, i was just spacing out." you smile back, feeling the tension leaving your body at the sound of his voice. it's almost unnerving how quickly he's managed to worm his way into your heart, but it's been so long since you've felt such a connection with another person that you can't bring yourself to be bothered by it.

"why are you out here so late? other than to admire the view, of course," he says, gesturing to the sky above you. a moment passes as you watch the stars, appreciating the calmness of the night.

truthfully, this mission had you at your wits end, you could practically feel the grey hairs sprouting from your head with the amount of stress this was causing you. but it was almost over – you just had to push through the home stretch, and then you could finally rest.

"i just couldn't sleep." you murmur. looking back over to nik, you're surprised to find him already looking at you, an incredibly soft look on his face. "what brings you out here?"

"admiring the view." he says, holding your gaze. in an instant your face is on fire, the cold of the night long forgotten.

"stop it…" you mumble with a smile pulling at your lips. you place your hands on your burning cheeks, turning your head to look at the ground in front of you as you attempt to calm your heart.

there's another moment of silence between you, a comfortable break in the conversation where you simply bask in each others presence. it had been a long time since you'd felt like this with someone; with most people, you feel the need to fill the silence, to keep talking or they'll get bored of you, but not with nik.

"something on your mind, милая?" he nudges your foot with his own, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"it's nothing, just had a long week is all…"

"дорогая," he tuts, grasping your hand that rests in your lap to bring your attention back to him. you meet his eyes again as he continues, "you're not fooling me."

a weak sigh escapes you, "everything's just… a lot, right now." you admit, you gaze dropping to where your fingers are interlocked.

"i understand," he lets go of your hand, bringing his arm up around your shoulders and pulling you closer to lean against him. "i will always be willing to listen, if you need to talk."

"thanks, nik," you give him a warm smile, and lean your head against his chest. "i appreciate it."

"of course, милая."

✹✹✹

"if this deal goes through, there's no telling what kind of damage they'll do, how many innocent people will be hurt." farah has a serious glint in her eyes as she speaks, her hands planted firmly on the table where she stands at the head of it. you nod your agreement, sliding the map you'd drawn out closer to her.

"according my intel, our target – kattan – will be meeting with a potential buyer here tonight." you scan the various documents laid out in front of you, brows furrowed. photos, e-mails, files, logistics, all of which you'd collected on the op you'd gotten back from only yesterday, all amounting to the meeting happening tonight. it had taken a lot to get this intel, but despite how much you'd gathered it still felt like you were in the dark and it frustrated you endlessly.

as your gaze travels between the three others, you find yourself lingering on nikolai standing opposite you. the conversation dims to background noise in your mind as you study him, aviators perched on his nose, his black hair pushed back out of his face, his–

"so what's the plan, 0-9? roll in and take 'em out, quick and quiet?" alex asks, crossing his arms over his chest. you blink, feeling your heartbeat increase as you break your gaze away from nik. alex raises his brow, subtly, and you know he'd caught you staring.

"no, these guys are cautious, we have to secure the shipment first, or they might bolt." you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "i have an idea, but you're not going to like it."

all eyes turn to you, and suddenly you're sure this is a bad idea, but you refuse to back down; this is too important.

"tell us," farah urges you, her eyes shining with something hopeful. you swallow thickly in the pause before you continue.

"the buyer is anonymous. kattan only knows their name, not what they look like, or their voice," your eyes dart between farah, alex, and nik, keeping your voice steady as you gauge their reactions.

"you're not..." alex doesn't finish the suggestion, already giving you a firmly disapproving stare.

"i'm going undercover as the buyer. it's the only way." it's a statement, you leave them no room to argue with your decision; but, as expected, the others aren't pleased with the idea.

"no, absolutely not–"

"like hell you are–"

"ерунда–"

the room devolves into shouting and various protests, but you only shake your head at their arguments. no words from them could change your mind, despite your own reservations about how dangerous this could be.

"sergeant, with all due respect, i cannot allow you to go through with this." farah stands up straight, meeting your eyes with a defiant look not dissimilar to your own.

"this is too dangerous, милая, there must be another way." nik's expression is partially hidden by his sunglasses, but the sharp downturn of his lips told you he wasn't going to let this go either.

"what else can we do? we have no idea where the shipment is, and we don't have time to find it ourselves." you respond, an exasperated tone in your voice as you gesture to the intel laid out on the table. "with all due respect, commander, this is our best option, whether you like it or not."

"we know nothing about these people, how they operate – this mission is not worth your life." farah crosses her arms over her chest.

"and what about the lives that'll be lost if i don't do this?" you argue, throwing your hands out to emphasise your words and the deep frown on your features, "we don't need to know everything, we just need to know enough. and everything we've got here? that's more than enough. i can do this, commander."

farah curses under her breath, turning away from you with a conflicted look on her face. the tension in the room is palpable as you await her decision, the silence between you nearly suffocating.

after a minute of contemplation, farah finally turns back toward you. "are you certain about this, nines?" she asks, fixing you with an intense stare.

"positive." you reply, a similar determined look on your own features. she nods, and looks across the files covering the table.

"then like you said, it's our best option." she picks up your map, "alex, you will go with them. park close by, stay in the car and provide backup if needed."

"commander, i insist that you let me go with them." nikolai speaks up, stepping around the table to be next to farah.

"no, captain. we need you here," she spares him a glance and shakes her head, handing the map to alex. his frown deepens, and despite having no intentions of backing out, you can't help but feel a little bad.

"but–" he begins to argue, but farah simply shakes her head again as she brushes past him on her way out of the room.

"don't worry nik, i know what i'm doing, and so does nines." alex follows behind the commander, giving nikolai a reassuring smile and a pat on the back as he passes by.

he doesn't look convinced, however, clenching his fists at his sides with the same conflicted expression still lingering on his face as he watches them go. with a light sigh, you come around to stand in front of him, reaching out and placing your hand on his upper arm. he looks back to you, removing his sunglasses and hooking them on his collar.

"we'll be fine." you let your hand trail down, closing around his fist and giving him a gentle squeeze. nik's expression softens, his hand unfurling and gripping your own.

"between you and me, it's not alex i'm worried about," the lopsided smile he gives you is sweet, but you can still sense the apprehension behind it.

"you don't think i can do this?" your question is intended to be teasing, but the way he reacts says that it went over his head. his eyes widen, and he gapes for a second before he responds.

"нет, of course i do," he takes your other hand in his, bringing them up to his face and pressing his lips softly to your knuckles, "i cannot help but worry for you, моя дорогая."

the familiar feeling of your heart skipping a beat disrupts your train of thought, your mind focusing solely on the feeling of him on your hands.

"i'm– you're– i'll be fine, nik." you stutter, cheeks burning as you refocus yourself. you were convincing yourself almost as much as him; even though it was your own idea, and you were more than used to being in deadly situations, you were still on edge.

"i have no doubt, милая." he smiles, genuinely this time, and your chest blossoms with warmth at the sight. "come back to me, alright?"

you allow nik to bring you into a hug, his arms curling around your waist as yours do the same. with your face hidden against his broad chest, you're glad he can't see the anxiety written into your expression.

"i will." you whisper, feeling his arms tighten around you. it's an empty promise; this mission is volatile, and you know there's never a guarantee that you'll make it back, but perhaps having something – someone – to come home to will give you the strength you need to get through this.

✹✹✹

the drive there is uncomfortably silent. the fifteen minutes it takes to arrive at the location feel more like hours, neither you or alex saying a single word as he drives through the deserted streets. if you were on edge before, now you were hanging by a thread. you leg bounces with pent up anxiety, an attempt to try and calm yourself down as you gaze out the window into the darkness of the night.

at last, alex pulls slowly into an alley a block or so from the meeting point, and looks over to you as he cuts the engine.

"you remember the plan?" he asks, brows raised and eyes serious. you shoot him a look as you adjust your earpiece.

"keller, we've been over this." you huff; and you have, more times than you could keep track of – you could probably say them in your sleep by now.

"just–" he stops himself, the tension of the situation clearly getting to him as much as it was you, "humour me."

"i get them talking, convince them to show me the guns, then you come swooping in and we take them down together. happy now?"

"i am," a small smile tugs at his lips, "be careful, nines."

"relax, i got this." you smile back before looking back out at the street in front of you. only a moment passes before you see a figure passing by, slow and on high alert. "that's our buyer."

although you didn't know what he looked like, there was no mistaking his nervous, almost paranoid, demeanour along with the hood low over his face. you and Alex share a look as you quietly exit the car and make your way towards him. having noticed the two of you, he was frozen in place, his eyes wide and face covered in tattoos that indicated some sort of gang affiliation.

before he gains the sense to run, you lurch forward and grab his arm, twisting it behind his back as alex covers his nose and mouth with a rag doused in chloroform. after a moment of struggling, his head slumps forward and his body falls limp in your hold. you and alex grab him by his arms, dragging his dead weight over to the car and piling him into the back seat.

with a nod of affirmation to alex as he secures zip-ties around the man's wrists, you cover your face with a black surgical mask and begin you walk to the meeting point. you lift the hood of your sweatshirt and shove your hands into your pockets as you shuffle along the road.

you round the corner, head on a swivel looking for any sign of danger just like you'd seen the real buyer do minutes before. all you can do is pray that your target doesn't see through the act. through the darkness, your eyes lock onto two people hovering next to a dark van, and there is no doubt in your mind that they're who you're here to meet.

it's only when your a few feet away from them that you can finally make out their faces – you recognise kattan, standing slightly ahead of his comrade, but what you don't expect is the spark of recognition when your eyes land on the second man. a chill runs down your spine as his face comes into view.

baranov; the head of a smuggling ring, and someone you're acutely aware is supposed to be dead.

you hiss a curse under your breath. he won't recognise you, will he? you're certain you've never shown your face to him, but people like him always have their ways, don't they? you stop a little further from them than necessary, just to be on the safe side.

“you’re late.” kattan growls, his eyes dark as he assesses you.

you click your tongue, “would you prefer i be followed?” you keep your voice low, gaze darting between the two of them and your surroundings. baranov stays silent, regarding you with a look so sharp it could kill. the uncertainty of whether or not he recognises you makes your ‘paranoid buyer’ act feel all too real.

“you have the money?” kattan asks. he takes a small step toward you.

“not so fast,” you hiss, taking a step back to keep the distance between you, “i need to see the product first.”

baranov and kattan share a look, communicating something without words, before turning back to you with their icy glares. after an incredibly tense pause, kattan backs up towards their van, his eyes never once leaving your form. he grabs the handle of the side door and slides it open, gesturing to the inside with his other arm.

“get in.” his tone is blunt, irritated. it takes you a moment to understand what he means, but you feel your mouth run dry when you realise.

“what?” you utter, your voice noticeably weaker than before. despite your best efforts to conceal your fear, it feels as though they see right through you.

“nines? what’s going on?” alex questions, his concern evident. you don't answer him, uncomfortably aware of the two sets of eyes burning holes through your head.

kattan gives a sharp sigh. “the guns are with our guys. you want to see the product? get in.”

“i’m not going anywhere with you.” you seethe, furrowing your brow in a glare to match his own.

“...0-9?”

he clicks his tongue, sharing another look with baranov before turning back to you. “then, you’re not serious.”

“no, i am.” you take a step forward, holding your arm out when he begins to slide the van door shut. “...fine, i’ll go – but if you try anything, i’ll make you regret it.”

“no, no– hey! you don’t go anywhere with them, okay? screw the mission, get back here, now!” alex is frantic now, trying to get through to you, but all you can think about is baranov; how he should be dead, and now you know he's not, you need to make sure he is by the end of the night. “farah will understand, this isn’t a failure. just call it off, nines.”

"then stop wasting my time." kattan spits, climbing into the back of the van as baranov watches you with that same ice cold glare.

"i have to do this, alex." you whisper, careful to make sure the other two don't hear.

"no! do not get in that van, nines, if you go with them, i can't follow, it's too risky!" this might be the most panicked you've ever seen – or rather heard – alex, but you already knew what you needed to do. you'd known since you first learned about this meeting those days ago.

with a steadying, almost inaudible sigh, you climb into the van after kattan. the cold dread that settles in your stomach as the door slides shut threatens to crack your stoic exterior, but for the sake of the mission you hold yourself together.

alex is still talking in your ear, but his words fade into static as baranov drives the van further away from where he's stationed. this place was a ghost town at night, not a single other person on the streets until the sun lights the sky; meaning any attempt to follow by alex would be incredibly risky. you just had to hope that the others would be able to track you, and you hadn't just doomed yourself by going with kattan.

forgive me nikolai, i will come back to you.

#nikolai x reader #nikolai cod x reader #nikolai call of duty #nikolai cod #call of duty #cod mw19 #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #cod nikolai #nikolai mw19 #nikolai my beloved #roosterr writes

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waytooinvested · 2 months

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Vengeance, Victory, and Undying Love - pt 9

Chapter 9 of my Supercorp fic in which Lena still creates something called Non Nocere to deal with her broken heart after finding out Supergirl's identity, but this time she gives the name to a different project. A more personal one. And now she’s coming for Supergirl.

This and previous chapters also available to read on Ao3

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

The next time she saw Lena, it was an accident.

Well, sort of.

Kara had taken to night flights when she couldn’t sleep – not patrolling for trouble (though that’s what she claimed she was doing) so much as just taking the opportunity to bathe in the gentle wash of starlight. She enjoyed feeling the cool night breeze against her skin and gazing out at the quiet expanse of the city. During the day it was a seething hive of activity, but at night the pace slowed, swapping the bustle for peaceful darkness spangled with lights that glimmered beneath her toes like an infinite swarm of fire flies.

Sometimes – not too often, but sometimes – she would stay out there all night, watching over the world as the sky faded from black to navy to grey-blue, then broke into the delicate pink and orange of sunrise spreading up from the horizon.

Those nights were the best ones, and the worst, because they made the hollow in her chest ache so viciously.

Back before all this had happened, Lena had sometimes stayed over at her apartment after their movie night ran just a little too late to make the journey home feel like a good idea. The idea was to sleep of course, but more than once they had stayed awake long after the credits had rolled on the final movie, just talking and laughing, swapping stories and dreams and ideas until the dawn chorus reminded them that there was a world out there that would shortly be demanding their attention.

Somewhere along the way a secret fantasy had been born in Kara’s heart – one that involved herself and Lena, a blanket, a thermos, a basket of fresh, oven-warm pastries, and the sunrise. In it she would scoop Lena up into her arms and fly them both out over the city and away somewhere special where no one would disturb them and the only thing for miles around for her super hearing to pick up was bird song and the sound of Lena’s heart beating in time with her own.

A mountaintop perhaps, or a cliff overlooking a pure turquoise sea.

They’d settle there, huddled close together against the early morning chill under their single blanket (it was always just one blanket, though she tried not to examine too deeply why that was), and they’d watch the sun come up.

She’d actually told Lena about it once, after a particularly deep heart to heart when her walls were as far down as she was ever able to let them.

Well, not all of it of course. Not the part about taking Lena in her arms and flying them away under her own steam, or the part about the single blanket. But she had looked out of her window at the rosy clouds and said that she wished they could be watching the sunrise from somewhere beautiful, outside of the city.

Lena had smiled at her so tenderly, the soft shine in her eyes instantly making the rising sun seem brash by comparison, and said ‘but we can’.

Kara’s stomach had plummeted even as her heart leapt, thinking that Lena was picturing the same thing she was, that she knew, and was saying that it was alright, that she felt the same. In another few moments Kara might well have blown her cover and swept her up right then and there to enact the fantasy for real, but before she could Lena had shaken her head at Kara’s stunned expression and laughed.

‘I have a private jet, remember? We can go wherever you like. Tell you what, why don’t we plan a proper vacation? We can all go. I’m sure we can find somewhere with spectacular sunrises, and perhaps some good vineyards too. It’ll be fun’.

And it would have been fun, if not exactly what Kara had been hoping for. But the vacation had never happened, because before it could they were all caught up in saving the world from certain peril yet again, and that had led to everything with Lex, and Lena had found out who she was, and everything had fallen apart.

She had been thinking about this and, alright, maybe moping about it a little, when she’d caught the sound of quiet sobs from a distant balcony.

Lena’s balcony.

She knew it wasn’t her place to comfort Lena when she was sad anymore, but it was as if thinking so hard about their past time together had conjured her presence, like the fact that they were both out here at this late hour when so few people were awake meant that she was somehow supposed to go.

Besides, she couldn’t bear to listen to Lena cry and not at least try to help.

She touched down on the balcony a few feet away from where Lena sat looking small and vulnerable in nothing but her light summer pyjama shorts and tank top, an almost empty bottle of scotch by her side.

‘Lena?’

She spoke the name very softly, trying not to startle her.

Lena looked up at her, eyes a little unfocused with alcohol.

‘Kara. I should have known you’d show up’.

‘I don’t mean to pry, it’s just… I heard you crying, and I wanted to make sure you were okay’.

‘Of course you did’.

‘So… are you okay?’

It was a stupid question. Lena was as not okay as Kara had ever seen her, her eyes red and puffy with crying, her bare arms and legs pebbled with goosebumps in the chilly night air, hair mussed as if she had tossed and turned on her pillow before giving up and coming out here. She was a mess.

A beautiful mess.

Kara longed to take Lena into her arms and warm her against her own chest, to wipe away her tears, smooth back her hair and tell her that everything was going to be alright, but she had to settle for taking off her cape and draping it tentatively around Lena’s shoulders instead.

For a while Lena stayed stiff, neither shrugging off nor acknowledging the offer, but eventually her need for warmth must have won out, because to Kara’s relief the frozen fingers of the hand that wasn’t clutching a glass of scotch reached up to pull the folds of the cape more snugly around herself.

It was not quite an invitation to stay, but it was the next best thing. An unspoken acceptance of Kara’s presence on the balcony.

‘Would it be alright if I sit?’

Lena glanced at her dully and made a gesture half way between a nod and a shrug before downing the rest of her scotch and pouring herself another large measure. The bottle clanked against the glass as she tipped it clumsily, half the liquid that had been intended for the cup sloshing over her bare knee instead, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

‘I was going to- to cure cancer you know’.

‘Were you?’

‘Yep. Or climate change. Hadn’t decided yet, but it was- it was going to be something heroic. Only now I can’t do it’.

‘Why not?’

Lena threw her a sceptical look and hiccuped.

‘Because. Because Kara, I am sitting out here on my balcony at 3am, and I’m drunk’.

Kara couldn’t help laughing at that, just a little.

‘I see that. But you won’t stay drunk. You’ll go to bed soon and sleep it off, and then you’ll be able to do whatever you like’.

‘No, no you see that’s where you’re wrong. I won’t, because I’ve already failed. I thought I succeeded, but I was fooling myself. It didn’t work. It was never going to work. And now I don’t have anything else to try. Kara’.

A pause, followed by a sudden rush of words.

‘Kara, I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want it but I don’t know how to go back. I’ve ruined everything’.

Fresh tears washed over the salty tracks of those that had come before, and Kara raised a tentative hand to touch the folds of cape above Lena’s shoulder.

She swallowed, hardly daring to breathe in case it broke the fragile thread that was spinning out between them.

‘What don’t you want Lena?’

#supergirl #supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #my fic #angst with a happy ending #multi chapter fic

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