#MY WHOLE FAMILY THOUGHT I WAS A SILLY LITTLE MAN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joekeeryswife · 4 months

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arranged marriage 1 - f.c

hey honeys! i hope you enjoyed my last imagine. writing for Felix legit has me in a chokehold. dickhead!felix (im sorry!) mean reader at the start then she turns sweet, i also suck at endings so please ignore how bad it is and the spelling mistakes lol.

anyways, here’s another angst to fluff imagine, Felix is 22 and reader is 20! enjoy reading 🩰

taglist🩰 (add yourselves here): @hummusxx @lalademie @kikiandbella @anamiad00msday @saltburntt @livvy256 @gee72sstuff please make sure your @ are on otherwise i cannot tag you!!

“mum seriously? Felix? as in the only person i absolutely hate with a passion Felix?” your mum rolled her eyes at your outburst. it wasn’t a shock to her that you were mad, you and Felix had grown up together but for some reason the two of you never got along. your parents had grown up together and had obviously been planning this for some time.

“i’m sorry sweetheart but yes, it will be good for the two of you to finally get along, he is a really sweet boy you know” you huffed “we could get along without getting married? i mean, i’m only 20 years old. i have my whole life ahead of me to get married” you ran a hand through your hair.

“why do i not get a say in this? shouldn’t i be able to say yes or no to this?” you were frustrated, you hated Felix. and no marriage certificate was ever going to change that. “stop being silly y/n. Elspeth is so excited to have you as a daughter in law, she loves you” your mum tried to end it there but you were not giving up.

“dad please tell her she is being irrational, there is no way you have agreed to this as well” you looked over at your dad “i’m sorry honey but i have agreed and so has the Catton family. you have no idea how good this would be for us, you will be bringing two very strong bloodlines together” you wanted to scream.

marrying Felix was the worst possible thing to probably ever happen in your life. Felix was an asshole to you, rude, snobby and ignorant. he thought he was this incredible man but in reality he was just a bastard, and you would be marrying him? you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

“i’m sure the two of you will get along just fine, you’re being a little dramatic honey. you’re going to have a beautiful dress, a beautiful ceremony, it’ll be amazing. and Felix is a very a handsome boy and you are a gorgeous girl, your kids will be absolutely perfect” you choked on your saliva

“kids? mum are you joking? i’m begging you, please don’t force me to marry him, my life will be a misery” your mum shook her head. “enough. this is final. you will marry Felix, end of story” your dad said making you and your mum look at him. you did not ever think that you would be in an arranged marriage with Felix Catton.

“now, get ready darling, we are going to saltburn to celebrate” this was going to be hell.

-♡-

“Felix darling, will you come here for a moment please?” Felix heard his mother call out as he walked past the living room. he saw his mum and dad sat on the sofa next to each other with huge smiles on their faces. he walked into the living room and sat on the sofa opposite the two of them “should i be worried?” he said jokingly, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“no of course not” his mum laughed. “we have some news for you which you may not like the sound of at first, but, i think the idea will grow on you” his dad said, excitement filling his voice.

“we have been speaking to y/n’s parents” Felix rolled his eyes at the mention of your name. “and we have all collectively decided that it’s time for the two of you to finally know that you will be getting married” Elspeth squealed in excitement.

his jaw dropped “isn’t that amazing? oh god it’s so nice for the secret to finally be out” his father seemed just as ecstatic as his mother.

“you are joking right?” his mothers smile faltered “no, it’s not, you two are getting married. oh i am so thrilled Felix, we have been planning this for ages and now that you both know i think it’s really set it in stone.” he shook his head at her.

“no, absolutely not. i’m sorry but there is no way in hell that i am marrying y/n” he shook his head and laughed. “this is bullshit, we fucking hate each other, why the fuck would you two even think that is a good idea?” he felt sick. “Felix, don’t use that type of language please” Elspeth said.

“mum, she’s a bitch. you really think i want to marry her?” James shook his head “she is a lovely girl. it’ll be good for us Felix. and it will be nice for you two to get along” Felix scoffed at his father. “you guys can plan this as much as you want, but i am not marrying that girl. i am 22 years old and i am old enough to make my own decisions, no is no”

“you will be, sorry Felix but it’s already started to be planned. the two of you will be getting married so you best start to try and get along. you guys will be moving into a lovely house after your honeymoon, you two will be fine” Elspeth said, her voice stern.

“now, since you know the news, go get ready. we are having a huge party to celebrate your engagement” he scoffed and walked away from his parents. this was going to be a long night.

-♡-

your mother had already picked out your engagement party dress and to be honest she did a good job of picking it. the dress wasn’t too over the top which you were grateful for. this whole idea of getting married to someone you hated was a lot of getting used too. you didn’t even have a ring yet which you knew would make it feel more real.

when you envisioned yourself your life you didn’t expect to get married for a few more years, and you would be getting married to someone you actually loved. you never thought your parents would force you to get married to anyone, let alone Felix. “are you excited for the party?” your mum said pulling you out of your thoughts.

you gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded “look, i know it’s not what you wanted but we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think it would work out. you and Felix will love each other in no time. i think when you two spend time together you will start to really like him” she grabbed ahold of your hand.

you were honestly willing to try the marriage thing for the sake of your parents, Felix was nice to everyone but you and you wanted to find out why. “oh, we invited practically everyone we know so be prepared to show fake smiles” she added as you stopped outside of Saltburn. knowing that you had to be lovey dovey with Felix made you anxious, it’s not like it was going to be easy when the two of you despised each other.

“right, let’s get this over with” you said as you exited the car, your mum scoffed “don’t speak like that y/n, you will enjoy yourself” she said as she linked her arm with your fathers. you followed behind the two of them and looked around the front garden of Saltburn, it had been covered in all different types of gold decorations.

Duncan the butler was waiting for you all at the front of the house, even though it was a party his face was still nonchalant. “theyre all waiting for you in the back garden, guests have already began to arrive.” your mother and father thanked him and made their way inside “not even going to break a smile for me, this is a party after all” you joked “enjoy the party y/n” he said making you laugh and brush past him. there was no breaking Duncan.

you made your way to the back garden which was just like the front, covered in gold decorations with guests slowly filling every section dressed in their party attire. you spotted Elspeth, James and Felix with your parents and you knew you would have to go over there. you put on your best brave faces d made your way over there.

Felix looked miserable as he stood next to his mother his eyes fixated on the grass. he hated the thought of you, he hated the thought of the two of you getting married even more. “aww there is the beautiful bride to be” he heard his mother say which made him look up from the ground.

now, even though you and Felix hated each other, there was no way he’d lie and say you weren’t beautiful because you were. you were one of the most beautiful people he had ever met. but that didn’t change the fact that he thought you were the most annoying person he’d ever met.

“gosh you look gorgeous” Elspeth said as you finally stood next to your parents. she pulled you into a hug and kissed your cheek. “now that you are here we can talk to you both. we know that the two of you don’t get along but we are very happy that you are going along with the arrangement. we promise you both that it will be all worth it in the end” James spoke quietly but loud enough for you all to hear. they obviously didn’t want people knowing that it was an arranged marriage.

“we will see about that dad, this is the worst day of my life” Felix said shaking his head. hearing him say that hurt you a little bit and you didn’t know why. you didn’t show the hurt on your face and you were quick with a comeback “likewise, i’d rather drown in bleach then have to marry you but here we are”

“why don’t the two of you go talk to one another about it? it might be good for you two to have an actual conversation instead of arguing all the time. go to the library, there isn’t anybody in there” Elspeth said looking between the two of you. “oh and if you see any guests and they congratulate you, please act like the two of you love each other” she added as the two of you started, asking your way to the library.

the walk to the library was silent until one of the Henry’s and his wife stopped the two of you “there is the happy couple. we have been waiting for the two of you to get together since you were young. you look gorgeous together” Henry’s wife said. your sour expression was quickly forgotten and you tried your best to show you were happy by putting the fake smile on your face.

you felt Felix’s arm go around your waist. “thank you, it didn’t take too much convincing” you said as convincing as possible. “let me see your ring dear, it must be beautiful” your eyes widened, you did not think about that at all. “it’s at the jewellers, i accidentally got the wrong size so we need to get her a temporary ring until her real one comes back” Felix was quick with his answer.

“how did you propose Felix? was it romantic?” you both nodded “very, we were on a couples holiday. we went for dinner and then we went for a walk along the beach and i just got down on one knee when i felt like the time was right” how was he so quick with these answers?

“wow, that is truly romantic. anyways, we don’t want to keep you guys for any longer. congratulations you two” with that the two of them walked toward the garden. “how the fuck did you come up with that so quickly?” you said as you both also continued walking. “dunno, i just made it up” his voice was flat and his arm dropped from your waist.

the two of you reached the library and Felix closed the door behind him. you sat on the sofa and he sat next to you awkwardly “so, how are you feeling about this situation then?” you spoke trying to stop the awkwardness. “how do you think? i’m being forced to marry a girl who i despise” he scratched the back of his neck.

“well, i’m not ecstatic about it either but, we have to do it. we just need to try and be nice to one another and i think it could work out. it’s gonna be awkward but-” he cut you off quickly “do you really think i’m gonna try work this out? with you? you must be out of your mind” he started, you didn’t like where this was going at all.

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met, you do realise this marriage is just to make our parents look good? there is no way i will try work this out with you. i will never like you, i will never love you. you’re just going to be a person i’m being forced to live with” you looked at him “you are unlovable. no one will ever fall in love with you, you are that frustrating. your parents probably agreed to this marriage because they know no one else will fall in love with you” his tone was harsh. hearing him say that broke you.

you could feel your eyes filling with tears which you tried to conceal as best you could but it was no use. even though you hated him his words cut deep. “that’s a really fucked up thing to say” you shook your head and got up to walk away, slamming the library door as you walked to the nearest bathroom. you could feel your chin quiver as you sniffled, trying your best to keep your tears at bay.

Felix knew that was a low blow, and he regretted his choice of words as soon as they left his mouth. he was left in the huge library, the deafening silence making him feel even worse for how he spoke to you. the two of you always threw insults at each other but nothing like that, ever.

he could tell that you were trying to make the best out of a shitty situation and he had to ruin it by overstepping the mark. he knew that he was going to have to apologise to you because he did, that time, take it too far. he spotted Theo, another butler stood at the end of the hallway. “did you see where she went?” he asked him as he shoved one of his hands in his pocket.

“she walked into the bathroom down that way sir” Theo pointed in the direction you had gone, he nodded “thanks” he started making his way to the bathroom and once he was outside the door he could hear your quiet sobs. he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t think the person he was about to comfort would be you let alone for something he said.

he knocked on the door gently, he heard your sobs stop. “who is it?” you called out, trying your best to hide the waver in your voice. “can i come in?” he questioned. he was stood outside the door for a couple of minutes before he heard you unlock the door. he walked into the bathroom and saw you sat on the floor next to the door.

he cautiously sat down next to you, not knowing how you were going to react. “look, i’m sorry for what i said. that took it too far and i am truly sorry. i’m just stressed about the situation and i took it out on you and i shouldn’t have done that” you just nodded and looked down at your lap.

he sighed, he knew that both of you would have to figure out a plan. the two of you were getting married which seemed scary to both of you and if you went through with it with out a plan it would just crumble. he spoke “so” you looked up from your lap to look at him “we need a plan” you nodded again. “how do you wanna do this?”

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twentyninth · 10 days

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❝ 𝐜𝐮𝐳 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ❞ hsr x reader 𓆩 𓇼 𓆪

pairings. dan heng, caelus, sampo, welt yang, gepard, blade, jing yuan, luocha x gn!reader

a/n: i miss getting silly little reuqests like this . send me requests guys (if u snet a req b4 its not in the swag askbox anym sighhh), reupload from old blog!!

warnings:oh no SEX AND NSFW AAAHHH, breeding kink caelus, jing yuan, and blade, bc yes!!. kinda bdsm w blade, praise kink w jing yuan, degrading kink w blade, kinda sadist sampo, belly bulge 👍👍, fingering BUT NOT IMPLIED FEM READER 🤬🤬

dan heng is more than happy to be yours, legally, and to be the man to put a ring on your finger. has waited his whole life for this moment, to see you walk down the aisle and everything. and nothing more than finally carrying you in his arms to the bedroom of your newly built house. but having your hands pinned to the bedframe, as his cock is so brutally penetrating your hole, and he can't help but praise you for being such a good pet and taking all of him in you. the endless thrusts you felt that kept coming, and your hole so easy to work himself in and out from all the cum from the rounds that happened hours ago, it felt so endless in your mind, but dan heng couldn't help but indulge himself into you, because you're finally his, and he's finally yours. more under the cut.

caelus thought he was foreign to this kind of stuff, like no one would ever would love him like that back. but he's here now, and you are too. picks you up bridal style on the way up stairs, ripping your wedding dress off. (not rly, just takes it off you, but lets just say he did) all he wants is to literally fill your precious hole up with his seed :(( can't help but go another round, because his stamina was just too much for you to handle, but all it did was turn him on more! the way his cock made such a cute mark on your tummy.. he couldn't help but cum at the sight of how your poor hole will remember the shape of his cock, and his alone.

sampo..? i'm surprised someone actually married him, anyways! kind of rough with it honestly, still type of guy to just ravage himself in you. taking his sweet time, especially when you were so close.<3 your expression, and the way you were just whimpering, and begging for him to just harshly thrust into you to finish it up. all he could say was "i wanna make this night extra memorable for you, and me~!", wants to be begging for his cock to just shoot his warm seed into you already.

welt yang.. all i gotta say is that he's overjoyed, over the moon that he got married to someone as amazing, stunning, to be his world, his everything, the person he'd start a family with. but before all of that, ever since you both started your relationship, he promised himself, that on the night of your marriage, that's when he'd give you the time of your life. a time where you'll always remember. remember the way his huge cock would just be so rough with you aa, just wants you to get every drop of his cum till your belly bulge that he put inside you is so full of his seed, or that your hole will always remember the shape of his dick muahahahshhdkfjvi

gepard my man! already planned it out, knows exactly how the night will go, maybe.. but whatever happens tonight will be according to a plan. probably saved his virginity for this moment, he.. he's tried reading about it, just lets the night go as it is... i guess.. but dear god he really did not hold back, as soon as you gave the go sin that he could go as rough as he wanted, bro wouldn't hesitate AT ALL. just wants to see you so full of his cum it hurts mfmfjfjfjfn. he's jerked off to this moment before too, and the way you just take all of him in, he loves ot so muchh! will breed you like crazy, no joke, even if you're a guy, bro will say he's gonna get you pregnant. anyways, he'll be soft and gentle w u in bed if you want, but if u ever say to go faster, good luck in that wheelchair next day ‼️‼️

blade?!? getting married?!? damn!! very rough, lowkey forgets about you when he's at his climax. but he didn't really plan for it, just let the night play out. oh i have to say this but silver wolf is the flowergirl, kafka is maid of honor, and nanook walks him down the aile. anyways, bro doesn't hesitate to just absolutely breed you, be honest cause i know this man wants kids. and you will have them, don't give a fuck if you a man, he will breed yo ass. licks up the excess seed that didn't, or couldn't fit in your hole that was already so full of his seed. thank you 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥‼️

jing yuan!! oo he is probably the same as gepard, will plan it out, but probably won't go to plan at all. and probably has read smutty books too, just in case. and wow that really helped because just as long as you ask bro to go faster, he will non stop breed you 'till you have like 3 generations of heirs for him. jokes aside, but he would breed you so bad. just needs to see your hole so full of him that it's too much, and won't fit anymore! probably makes you sit on his face once or thrice after all those rounds of pounding you too ;3

luocha.. hmm, if you think about it really hard, lowkey dislikes the idea of sex at the wedding night, but we do not think about it really hard, he does it anyway!! he is the type to know all your spots, all the right places to make you cream on his cock over and over again, cuz bro is a doctor. and would finger you like crazy while making out before the actual intimacy. bro is so careful with you like you are as fragile as glass. his kink is just your whole body. everything about you, your curves, your thighs, your neck, he wants everything, and thats why he'd do it on the wedding night of his!!!

for america i say for AMERICA!!!! (i dont live in the us anym)

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ms0milk · 1 year

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when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the goddamned family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, it’s only been a few hours, and still he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shouto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him out of the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of five thousand pounds of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice and the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner I go in, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and blessedly you don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you.

“Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“That doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains, if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?” His aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap.

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a fallen comrade on the battlefield. Although you don't complain. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “I think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I– ” the other ear releases, “– just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? Who just gets dizzy, are you a fucking Victorian child? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today! He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key still in it and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you can hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground behind the corner of the kitchen wall.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping glass soda bottles and soft melon bread alike from his arms, as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to begin the checks for a vertebral injury. But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally scrolls through every single one as you try to form a sentence.

“you shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again now for the next fifty years unprompted.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“‘got hungry,” you admit openly because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a goddamned thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant, sneaky– that it’s obvious, they way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

Is he supposed to be able to focus on paperwork with you trying to catch your breath in a hallway when you think no one’s around? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, you haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” You sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear to get to you.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you...Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

#i think i probably need firefighter kirishima inside of me #shinsou wanting to fuck his pretty boss now has a gravitational pull that teeters on allconsuming #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #shinsou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha drabble #mha drabble #does anyone spell it #shinso x reader #?#that feels psychotic

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 month

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Reign down on me - Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: So this is kind of a Part 1 of a whole chapter because i wanted to give you guys something. So the next chapter will have a bit more going on, hope you enjoy this for now! Excited for any comments or theories you guys have about what's going to happen 💕

-🐺-

The major opened the door slowly and then gently closed it shut behind him, sparing a quick glance at you before he walked over to Price’s desk with only a few long strides. He was a tall man with gleaming shoes and a pristine uniform to match, his red hair combed back neatly on top of his head. You took in everything, your breathing almost slowed to a stop while you waited for the news. Only when he sat down at the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of Price did he speak.

“Before I start, I want to say that I know you’re a busy man and that your team are integral to many ongoing operations that are running. However,” the major paused, his accent thickly weaving his words. “After the incident outside your hallway with Second Lieutenant Smith, I’m afraid to say that I must ask you to carve out some time for me.”

Price laughed at that. Not a warm chuckle or a dark little rumble, like you were used to hearing over comms or during training. This was one of disbelief, the little glinting breaths coming through like warning shots.

“I’d hardly call that an incident, Major. A silly boy decided to test my hybrid and got exactly what he deserved. There ain’t much more to it,” Price grunted.

He straightened his back and leaned over his table, appearing every bit as menacing as you imagined he could be. The way his eyes appeared to darken below his tilted heavy brow were enough to send even you gulping - and you were the one he was defending. The Major didn’t seem to react however, he wasn’t cowed by the show, he merely sniffed and set his own arms on the desk.

“Ordinarily I’d agree with ye, Price, you know I would. That wasn’t just any boy though, his da’s some parliamentary arsehole and he wants atonement.”

That gave Price pause.

You sucked in a breath and dug your fingers into the couch cushions, feeling the fabric strain and almost give way under your claws. The shaking started seconds later. You were going to be punished after all.

Who would do the whipping, you wondered, I don’t want it to be any of the boys, definitely not Ghost. A small whine escaped your throat at the thought of that before you could cram it down. Ghost was supposed to be safe. The idea that he’d be the one looming over you and raining down pain on your back left your throat feeling crushingly tight.

“You’re not laying a finger on my wolf, do you hear me?” Price said, his voice so low he might as well have growled at the Major.

His. The way he said it was so possessive compared to the way you normally heard that, the way that Ghost usually said it. Ghost’s good Pup. His sweet thing. Price said that you were his with all the ferocity of a wild animal. Like something was threatening to drag you off into the unknown.

“Look I’m not gonna bullshit you here. I tried insisting on something like committed service hours, guard duty or sniffing - that sort of thing. He wasn’t going for it. The problem isn’t so much with what the hybrid did - it’s your Lieutenant he wants to prove a point to most of all. He wants Ghost to know he can’t get away with insulting his family.”

“So what? He wants Ghost punished?” Price snorted, tilting his chin up in challenge. “You gonna string him up to the post and all are ya?”

The major sighed deeply and rubbed his brow.

“No ones getting strung up, don’t jump to conclusions. He said that he wants the hybrid locked down for a week, they’re to be placed with the Smith boy’s squad and kenneled, only to be removed should a mission arise where the hybrid’s presence is essential…now, before you go thinking that you can conjure up some kind of week long escapade, he explicitly stated the sentence is to pause while away and resume on return.”

I’d rather be whipped bloody, you thought. The exact thing you were afraid of was coming to fruition. You were to be stripped of what you’d come to love and return to your old way of life, worse still was the thought that you didn’t even know what the kennels were like in your new base, didn’t know if they could extend your stay which would often happen at Branhaven. There was every chance you could be stuck with that horrible bastard indefinitely. Ghost had made a point of letting you know that he never intended on punishing you like that, that you wouldn’t while away your hours in a dingy cell block, or be made to face a post ever again.

The memory of him settling his hand on your shoulder and squeezing ever so gently as he explained his approach to discipline was so strong, you almost felt his spirit lingering there beside you. He’d said he wouldn’t ever put you out in the cold or whip you unless his hand was forced, and even then he insisted he’d fight whoever threatened you.

Would he fight a major? A politician?

“This is bullshit,” Price scoffed, smacking his hand off his desk and making you jump. “Hobbling my team because his little brat got slapped around is pathetic! What next? Would he like to bend Ghost over while he’s at it? Really, Major, this is a farce.”

“It is, aye. Exactly what happens when you tangle with those sorts, you know that as well as anyone though.”

Price’s face was the dictionary definition of scorn. You shrank back into the sofa, subconsciously trying to become a part of it and escape from all the tension. The major didn’t even wince through it. He faced Price with all the stoicism of a tree on a calm day, but Price continued to rant and plead your case until you thought his red face might start to turn purple. All the while you listened with quick little bursts of scared breath.

The conversation didn’t go anywhere except against a dead end, ramming over and over into the same conclusion. The major grew tired of Price’s fit and walked out, saying that he’d expect you checked into the kennel’s by the end of the night. He let the threat of what would happen, should he fail to comply, linger somewhere above you - like an anvil - in the air.

Price growled out a profanity as the door slammed closed. Only when the air had settled and the Major’s presence fully left did he turn to you and soften. His eyes, that had held so much venom, melted from slits and into doleful pools, his taught mouth slackened.

“Pup…” He sighed, looking you over.

He didn’t finish the sentiment. There was a wordless understanding between you both that he didn’t have the vocabulary for the sympathies he wanted to convey. With that quiet look of apology given he sighed out and pressed his head into his palms.

“Fuckin’ shower of cunts the lot of em.”

Price hadn’t immediately given up of course. He picked up his phone and got to talking to numerous sources, but apparently none of them were of any use. You flinched back from where you were perched every time he hung up his phone with a bang. It almost made you feel sorry for the thing. No matter what arguments were made, no one was willing to hear Price out. That much was clear after he’d clattered down into his old chair like a shot bird.

You had expected as much.

In the end it was you that convinced Price just to take you to the kennels. Making a point of stressing that it would be far better to go before Ghost could come back. Something within you shook at the idea of being put back into the same horrible place by the same man that had rescued you from there to begin with. At having Ghost have to take the responsibility on his shoulders, once more letting down a hybrid in his care.

After being checked in and issued a bedroll, it was time to say your good nights. You stared at Price through the doorway of the kennel, biting your frayed lip. No matter what he said, you knew well enough that it was your own stupid stubborn fault that you were back there again - for not just acquiescing to the brat’s commands in the first place. Stunts like that were the exact reason that you had the disciplinary record that you did. Always going against anyone that wanted to shove you down, all in the name of some kind of renegade fantasy that you had any control over your life. Fiercely defending the shreds of your honour as if you hadn’t spent most of your life as a beaten dog.

Stupid.

At the very least though, conditions were far better than your old haunt at Branhaven. That was something, you tried to tell yourself. The shiny black sleeping bag they’d given you was plenty thick and there was a groaning old heater that rattled overhead, so that the nipping cold temperatures felt more like being left in a draughty room. Even the construction wasn’t as bad as the other ones, rubber crumb flooring like that of a playground, meant that you wouldn’t get as stiff and a hard fibreglass front over the concrete walls meant that you wouldn’t be exposed to the elements. It was almost possible to think of it like a stay at the worlds worst hotel, rather than a mandated stay in the kennels.

It wasn’t home, but at least you knew that you’d get to return there as long as you listened and kept your stupid trap shut for once. Home with Ghost. Now that you’d calmed down after the initial shock of being issued the punishment, an internal clock had materialised in your head. The countdown to when you could go home. All you had to do was take your medicine and you could be with Ghost again, everything could go back to how it was. That thought alone was enough to keep the needling panic at the back of your mind firmly restrained there.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” Price said, his voice stony and rough. “I don’t wanna leave you here, Pup…I really don’t.”

“Don’t wanna leave me, or don’t wanna have to face Ghost and tell him I’m here?” You said, making an attempt to lift his heavy expression.

He grunted something that could be interpreted as a bitter chuckle.

“Neither.”

You smiled a little, but didn’t have it in you to laugh. At seeing your expression, he crossed the threshold between you both and closed his palm over your head. His roughened fingers skimmed over your ears and softly rubbed some of the worry out from deep within your tissue. A proper moment of reprieve settled over your body, loosening tight muscles, before you were forced to part again by the approaching footsteps of the guard.

“Sorry, Sir. I have to lock all the kennels up for the night for lights out,” he explained sheepishly, eyes not fully able to reach Price’s gaze.

Price nodded at him and went to comply, though only after giving you one last ruffle over the ears. He stepped back after and allowed the fibre glass door to snick to a close. Your heart thumped extra loudly while it shut. Price gave you one last mournful look and then told you to get some rest, assuring you that he’d be watching over you even from afar.

“Good night, Price,” you whispered back, watching his retreating back with sorrow filled eyes.

The guard grunted and double checked the door, ensuring it was locked and rattling the mechanism a few times before he was satisfied. The soft click of metal on metal forced your ears to twitch upward into alert.

“Get into your bedroll. Light’s out,” the guard said, his voice hardened now that your Captain was gone. “If you cause trouble or give me any crap you’ll be removed for discipline and then returned here. Do you understand?”

“Understood, Sir,” you nodded, unfurling the sleeping bag with a shiver.

The guard allowed you to sort your bedding and once inside the puffy roll of fabric he flicked the light switch and left you bathed in the darkness. He continued down the line from there, the only evidence of his presence, the fading lights down the line and the clicking of switches and doors.

You whined softly while rubbing your face against the cold fabric below, blanching at the cold rubber flooring. Your heart lurched at the thought of your bed back home. The thought of your cushy blue pillows, Simon’s soft fur, the dialogue unread from the ‘Super-Wolf’ graphic novels by your bed, the smell of rotisserie chicken that was supposed to linger in the air, no where to be found in that sterile place. This was all wrong.

No matter what position you got in, no matter how hard you tried to shut your mind off and return to old coping mechanisms, the idea that you could be safely in your bed weighed on your chest like an elephant. Before you were used to being shoved into a kennel and forgotten about, but now you knew that there was a better life. A life that had been ripped from you.

You wanted to scream, wanted to claw your way out of the sleeping bag and slam yourself against the clear glass like a mad person, wanted to raise hell until you were returned to your rightful place. Though you never followed through. You had to be good now. It was the only thing that would get you home.

Instead, you let your head loll to the back wall, facing the speckled brick and let loose the tears that you hadn’t wanted Price to have to witness again. Couldn’t have him thinking that you were completely pathetic afterall. The hot paths they left burned against your cold cheeks, though they still couldn’t compete with the heat that filled your aching chest.

I’ll be with them again. Ghost won’t let me go.

-🐺-

“Mum…I had a nightmare. The monsters want to take me away.”

Your little tail was pinned fast under your legs, your ears folded so close to your head you could feel the fibres of your hair even through your fur. Blinking back the tears from your eyes, you swallowed and looked up at her imploringly, hoping for a big cuddle just like the ones you’d seen her give to your older sister.

If she knew the meaning in your look, she didn’t show it. She groaned and got up from the couch, mumbling something under her breath before grabbing your wrist and shepherding you back to bed. The long dark corridors of your house seemed all the more haunting at night, the sounds of all the appliances ringing through the walls like wails. You shivered all the way back to your tiny room. Your mum’s iron grip may as well have been a shackle tugging you to prison.

“Right, get back to sleep. You won’t have another nightmare after you’ve just had one.”

She turned the light on while you sorted yourself, impatiently hovering by the switch until you were lying back in bed and clinging the stuffed dog that your sister hadn’t wanted - had so graciously thrown at you one day - to your chest. His name was faint to you now, a shadow in your anxiety addled mind, what did you call him again?

“Sleep tight,” she sighed, turning the light out and spiriting out the door.

You blinked out through the darkness and sighed, curling into a little ball and trying your best to retreat from the leering shadows in the corner of the room. In that darkness your mind created faces, grinning horrible faces that wanted to gobble you up and turn you into mince. Just like the monsters from that horrible movie your dad had watched the night before, completely unaware that you had been hiding under the dining table, trying to avoid your mothers wrath for the milk that you’d spilled before bed.

“Monsters can’t get you here, sweetie,” you whispered to yourself, remembering the calming words you’d overheard in your sister’s room a few nights prior. “Nothing will get you when you’re safely tucked up…snug as a bug in a rug. You have your teddy to protect you, he’ll watch over you all night! Then in the morning everything will be fine again and the sun will be shining.”

The words didn’t seem to hold the same weight when you said them to yourself. They just rang hollow in the static. Perhaps they didn’t work the same since you were different, a half-breed ‘thing’ that no one asked for. Were you worth protecting? Would the sun shine for you in the morning?

-🐺-

“Hey, Pup. Oi. It’s ok, you’re alright. Easy…Easy”

You gulped in a hungry breath of air and opened your eyes, chest absolutely heaving as you fought off the last of the evil spirits that cackled and snapped at your extremities. In all your confusion between sleeping and waking, you couldn’t be sure if the arms that were wrapped around you were real, and if they were, you couldn’t be sure that they were friendly.

When you whipped round and saw Gaz staring down at you with wide concerned eyes, you still questioned to yourself if you were in another layer of a dream. This couldn’t be right, you thought drowsily.

“Gaz?” you mumbled, tilting your head when he smiled at you. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from the bogeyman apparently,” he smirked, ruffling your ears until you swatted his hands away. “That looked like a fuckin’ mental dream, mate.”

“No, Really - what are you doing here?”

You looked around, noting the wide open kennel door and the hazy blue sky beyond, a soft gradient of navy and electric blue sheeted over the fences and trees beyond. It couldn’t be any later than three, maybe four at a stretch. Your sleeping bag was tangled round your ankles and the heater had turned off, but other than that nothing had changed in the kennel.

All was quiet on base, no cars whizzed by, barely any noise sounded through the crisp morning air. Sleep soon scratched at your eyes, forcing you to rub them and then embarrassingly let loose a high pitched whining yawn that had your face heating like a furnace in embarrassment.

“Aw, you are just a cute Pup, aren’t you?”

“Gaz!” you growled, trying to fix him with a stare serious enough that he would answer.

It was no use though. He wasn’t Soap, so a little mean look did nothing to wipe the stupid smile of his smug face. Though he did relent when you growled, and when he noticed your darting looks round the opened gate, probably seeing that you were searching for the guard. At that point you’d suspected Gaz had to have stuffed him in a locker or something.

“Relax, you can stop clutching your pearls. Price has a mission for us.”

“What?” you frowned, thoroughly doubtful, “Really? Right after I got kenneled, huh?”

“Genuinely,” He snorted, shaking his head. “I didn’t believe him at first either, but he wasn’t in the mood to piss about and explain himself. Cap said to come get you and load up ASAP, he’ll explain when we’re in the air.”

“We’re flying out?”

“Uh huh. Sooner the better too, can’t believe they made you spend a night in this place. What a fuckin’ joke.”

“Doesn’t feel like a joke to my back,” you ground out, wincing mid stretch when you felt a bone crack and heard the resulting sound.

“Jesus. You keep making noises like that and they might retire you,” Gaz snorted.

“Ha ha,” you said dryly.

He gave you room to move away from him, allowing you to stand up before looking you over. It was almost comical seeing the way he searched you for any signs of harm, his calculating eyes narrowed as if he were looking for weapons. He paused a moment, only unfreezing when you raised your brows at him and quirked your lips.

“You solid?” he asked.

“I think so. You?”

“It’s three in the morning and I’m freezing my arse out here instead of being passed out in bed - course I’m not,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and bumped into his side, happily strolling out of the kennel and out into freedom. One night down you, you thought, only six more to go until I get to go back to my bed. At the very least you were happy you wouldn’t have to go to that prick, Smith’s, unit for the day. More than having to be separated from Ghost, you feared what he would do to you while in his care. You strongly suspected he’d have more than a slap lined up for you at that point.

Gaz lead you to the changing rooms before taking you to the chinook, handing you your gear and waiting on the squeaky wooden benches outside the shower block while you got ready. Then after taking the world’s quickest and coldest shower, trying miserably not to get your hair or fur wet, you stepped out to greet him with gritted teeth and soggy ears. If one thing was abundantly clear then, it was the fact that Ghost had utterly spoiled you. There was no way you could face a cold shower again without thinking about the bathroom at his.

“When I get to go back to Ghost I’m gonna live in that shower,” you huffed, teeth chattering while wrapping yourself up in the big cosy fleece that Ghost had given you a few days before. “I’m gonna stay in there until I turn into a prune and then I’ll make sure that Ghost cans me and traps all the warm condensation in.”

Gaz laughed while watching you lace `up your boots last. Your fingers were shaking still from the bone chilling cold that had seeped through your entire body. It was a wonder that you thankfully managed to finish changing without any help. As much as you had considered pathetically asking him to tie them for you, you werent sure if you could go on soldiering knowing that Gaz had to help you like you were some kind of baby.

“Pup in a can sounds like a pretty good product. New kind of IED discovered, we can just start lobbing you at the enemy instead of wasting grenades.”

“Lobbing me?” You said in faux shock, flattening your drippy ears. “I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

“What? It’s a pretty solid strategy, would work wonders if we were facing an army of Mactavishes.”

“Gaz!” You squawked, flinging your dirty shirt at him. “Mean!”

He batted it away easily and laughed with you.

“Oh c’mon. Soap would laugh if he was here.”

“Pfft, Soap here? coming to the kennels? Fat chance.”

“Aw, I’m sure he’d do it for you. His little furball,” Gaz teased, ruffling your ears. “Our fuzzy wuzzy puppy.”

You huffed and shooed his hands away, growling when he went to mess with you again. Gaz didn’t flinch at that, but he did roll his eyes and move back to lean against the wall. He was graciously allowing you to put away the rest of your gear in peace so that you could move out. He grew quiet while you shoved your things into the soft green rucksack, and just as you’d clicked the clasp on your bag closed, he regarded you with a more considering look.

“What?”

“What?” Gaz returned, folding his arms.

You frowned.

“You’re looking at me funny.”

“Maybe it’s cause you’re funny,” he shrugged.

“Shame that you’re not,” you replied dryly.

“Well shit. Mess with the wolf and you get the fangs, huh?”

“You know it, Garrick.”

-🐺-

The chinook was more comfortable than the kennel. That you figured out after your belly was filled with a fat bacon roll and you had Gaz’s shoulder to lean on. Your eyelids dripped like syrup, lashes fluttering as you listened to Price drone on about the mission over the shaky comms.

“Pup, are you listening? Knew I shouldn’t have bloody given you breakfast first,” Price admonished.

You slowly blinked back at him.

“I am,” you huffed out, straightening your back against the chair. “We got evidence of WMD’s in Lata, so we’re gonna go there and secure em with a team from Los Vaqueros forces.”

“Top marks,” Gaz chuckled, ruffling your ears.

You rolled your eyes.

“These ears ain’t for nothin’,” you said with a sly grin.

“Those ears better stay alert,” Price grumbled. “I need you alive and well so Ghost doesn’t disembowel me on return.”

Your ears perked up at that, your body quickly straightening up all the way. In all your tiredness and confusion at being taken away, you’d hardly thought about how Ghost would’ve felt about you being seperated from him for the first time.

“You spoke to him last night then?”

“Tried to,” Price snorted. “After I told him where you were he just about bowled me over trying to get to you. Managed to convince him to let you be, but he was a pain in my arse all night. He wants to speak to you later, so if you would please be careful today me and my neck would thank you.”

“Is he coming here?” You asked hopefully, tail raising in your excitement.

“Probably not. If all goes well we should be outta here in a few days to a week. He said to call once we finish up tonight though.”

Oh. As much as you tried to stop yourself from visibly deflating, there was little you could do to prevent yourself falling back against the chair with a huff. It had already been to long without him and it had only been a day. The thought of the growing distance only gnawed at you as you thought about it more.

“Relax, Pup. You’ll be back home to Ghost before you know it,” Price hummed. “Just gotta get through this in one piece first.”

“Yeah…but that’ll only be after I finish up my time at the kennels,” you grumbled, fully sagging into Gaz in defeat.

“We’ll see.”

You tilted your head at the Captain wondering what the hell he meant by that, and even though he saw your curious look he didn’t answer it. All he did was wink. Even when you begged him to elaborate he shook his head and tilted down his boonie hat, making it perfectly clear that the time for talking was done.

“You could use more sleep yourself,” Gaz said afterward, watching you in your confusion. “Don’t worry too much about the future right now, you barely got any sleep last night by the sounds of that dream you were having, so you’re not gonna be able to think straight. Rest your head on me and I’ll try and keep the nightmares at bay, ok? Gotta wake up fresh for the mission.”

You pursed your lips, heart beating like a frail bird in your chest. So many questions danced around you, but every thought was dimmed by the tiring heaviness that had refused to shake itself from your body from the moment you’d woken up.

Gaz was right, you did need more sleep. And curling up on him sounded like a dream. However when you looked up into his soft hazel eyes, a sudden wave of heat pulsed through you and gave you pause. He practically glowed in the emerging morning light.

“You sure you want me cuddling up to you?” you asked, laughing breathily to cover up your nervousness.

“Only as long as you don’t tell Ghost,” he winked. “Wouldn’t want him to get jealous.”

You shoved him playfully at that, but soon settled down once Price barked out for you both to be quiet. Bodies going ridgid before slackening into each other. Your head drooped gently down onto Gaz’s shoulder and he let his cheek rest on top of your head. The warm rays of the morning blanketed you both in its gentle hold and in minutes you were sinking into a now peaceful sleep.

#reign down on me #simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader

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marwhoa · 8 months

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request: You write the turtles boys so well! I literally can't stop smiling when I read your fics - they're so sweet and endearing. I was wondering, only if it strikes your interest of course, if you'd consider writing about the boys being jealous of each other when the reader spends time with them one on one? Like, maybe a slot for Leo where he thinks reader finds Donnie funnier? Or one for mikey, where he thinks that reader likes how big raph is? Or for raph, where he thinks reader is more enamored with Leo? Or Donnie, where he worries that Mikey is flirting with reader? Of course they're all misunderstandings, and maybe it could end all fluffy with confessions and comforting their respective boy? If not, don't worry, but if so, thank you! 1 look forward to whatever you put out next.

🝮 “ green with envy ”

rise!boys x y/n

author’s note: screaming profusely !!! eeeee !!! So hey yeah here’s a fic, this took a while because it sat in my notes for days before I finally posted it, my bad. This was kinda hard cause I’m not experienced in the realm of jealousy—hopefully y’all like it? ᗡ: also does envy even fit this scenario? Lmao I just be naming these fics any thing, can y’all tell?

word count: 6.1k

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo never expected he could ever become… jealous, not him—no, no, NEVER him. He had too much pride, too much confidence. There should have never been any room for doubt in his ability to keep you focused and adoring on him, and him alone.

But, perhaps he had given himself too much credit? Or, maybe he had given his twin too little credit.

It wasn’t as though you were his. Just friends, and technically that meant you belonged to the whole family, not just him. But, no one could blame him for coveting you. From how starry-eyed you looked at him to how genuinely you laughed at his jokes, Leo found out too late that he had been falling for you, and here he was still falling. The way your nose crinkled when you laughed, or how your face lit up during Mikey’s dinner times, even down to the wheezing laugh you would give into if he pushed his jokes on too long, all of it spelled out lovely disaster for his heart.

But, fear not, he thought. He was the face man and the funniest turtle, surely there was no competition? No one could be better than him at getting you to make the faces you did.

Or well, it should’ve been no one. He wasn’t even all that funny, but Donnie managed to get you to keel over to some stuff he said—and he didn’t even intend for them to be jokes! A natural comic, can you believe the nerve of this guy?

So, yeah, Leo never expected himself to be jealous, and especially never towards his own brother, but god the way you were showing that tickled-silly expression to Donnie, wiping tears as he confusedly asked what was so funny? It had him gripping the arm of their couch, digging his nails into them. He wasn’t going to take this any longer! Sure Donnie meant no harm and would never try to swoop in and steal the prize he had his eye on, but Leo couldn’t help but still be… aggravated.

The pent-up annoyance was dispelled by the red-slider leaping over the couch, sassily walking over and snaking his arm across your waist.

“ Yeah, whatever, Donnie is sooo funny, but hey, Y/N, let me show you something better! ”

Never mind the fact that he had nothing planned as he twirled his katana in his other hand, slicing the air until a blue portal shimmered into existence. You glanced back and waved good bye to Donnie, fully intrigued by whatever it was Leo wanted to show you.

“ Oh—okay! What is it? ”

“ Who am I to ruin a surprise? ”

He cocked a brow at your question, tugging you through the portal and stepping out into the courtyard of the Witch’s city. While amazed, you wondered just what this had to do with anything—but, of course that was a comment you would keep to yourself until having fully exhausted the excitement of exploring not just any random town, but rather a town of witches!

“ Oh, Leo, finally! I’ve been begging you to bring me here for weeks! ”

Before he could even say anything, you were quickly rushing up to the nearest shop and sparking up conversation. Such a busy bee, but it was just another aspect of you he was captivated by. However, with such an impromptu visit to a rather overwhelming area, he found chances to spark conversation and get you to laugh to be stretched few and far between.

“ Oh wow, this store really doesn’t leave mushroom for walk-through, huh? ”

He gestured to a potions-ingredients shop, which, you guessed it, specialized in all things fungal-based. His shoulders drooped as you continued ahead, not even hearing him. That joke was gold! Huffing, Leo caught up with you and laced his fingers around your wrist, effortlessly stopping you in your tracks.

“ Mm? Leo? ”

You stared up at him with such a look of focus, all your attention finally fully on him, and he had to fight his legs not to reduce to jelly instantly. Instead, he took a deep breath, cocked his head, and insisted you follow him.

Down weaving alleys, through crowds of people, eventually you reached a park unlike any seen on the surface. The paths were lined with thick, luscious plants cultivated through the town’s magic. Foliage swayed with no wind, as though dancing like silk fabric to whatever music only they heard.

Your attention only left the plants when you heard Leo start clearing his throat and then flashing you a look that you recognized all too well. A grin was already tugging at your lips, and Leo finally felt like he was the only one in your world again. His hands held onto his belt and he kicked out his legs, faking as though he were tipping a hat. It seemed like some western cowboy impersonation?

“ What in carnation? ”

There you went, first with a light and short laugh.

“ Well I do say, I took a leaf of faith bringing you here,”

Which then melded into a series, topped with a “ Wait, Leo, hush—please! ”, all stuttered and peppered through your increasing laughter.

“—but, beleaf it or not—“

He wasn’t even able to finish the entire spiel before you were holding onto him, laughing with such a melodious voice. Which, of course, devolved into your trademark wheeze n’snort after dragging on too long.

“ Pwffhaaha!! Leo, wha-what’s with you today? ”

You wiped away a tear, and suddenly Leo was finally brought back to reality. Your hand on his forearm lingered, and he was just completely beside himself with how the glowing willows beside the garden softened your face ever-so-perfectly.

“ Y/N… ”

His voice was so uncharacteristically soft that it had you a tad bit spooked, hand gripping a teensy tighter. Your head cocked slightly in confusion.

“ I.. Ugh, okay, it’s—it’s dumb! But—“

He dragged his hands down his face, groaning exhaustedly.

“ I thought, maybe, you might’ve… Liked Donnie, more than me. ”

“ Huh? Why would you think that, I love all of you guys? ”

“ Yeah, but I love you, and—“

The shock painted on your face had him holding his breath. Alarms went off in his head, telling him he maybe should have held his tongue, not jumped ahead so quickly. The two of you searched each other’s eyes in silence, you recovering from what he said, and him preparing himself for what you would say. Soon enough, your face twisted into a confusion tinged with a bit of playfulness.

“ Wait a second.. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of Donnie? What for? ”

“ What? What do you mean what for? You, you’ve been laughing at everything he said all day, don’t you think he’s funnier? Don’t you like him more?! ”

If it weren’t his dumb puns and act earlier, it was this that would do you in.

“ Leo, you dummy! Sure I was laughing, but that doesn’t mean I like him more than you, I just, well… ”

It was your turn to be a bit bashful as your eyes looked everywhere except him.

“ I, well.. You’re my favorite, Leo, not Donnie.. ”

As you batted your eyes at him, hoping he would connect the dots thoroughly, your answer was given in the form of his beaming expression as he swept you into his arms, spinning.

“ Ah-hah! So you do like me—and I’m the funnier turtle!? ”

“ Oh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re too powerful! ”

Playfully you cried, leaning back with your hand dramatically draped across your forehead. Leo chuckled at your antics leaning in to lay his head against your stomach as he tightened his hold firmly.

This was definitely something he would rub in his brother’s face later on—and said brother would be profusely confused by what brought it on???

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

Mikey was the last turtle you ever considered could suffer from the classic ailment of “ jealousy ”, and you couldn’t help but feel both ashamed yet intrigued.

While you weren’t too sure what it was that had got him so riled up, you were observant enough to see the way his eyes lit up with a startling emotion. At first it was impossible to pinpoint, just a glimpse of something indiscernible yet startling that crept into his blue hues at the oddest of times.

The first time you had seen that frightful emotion peek its head was during a date. The two of you had decided to hit a bar late at night, him donning a cloaking brooch, of course.

When you arrived, the loud music was entrancing, luring you both onto the dance floor to get lost in each other’s arms. The music coiled around you both, closing the gap to a suffocatingly tight end, as if either of you couldn’t stand any sort of distance apart. The floor vibrated, from both the booming speakers and the music reverberating the whole building alongside the dancing bodies around you both.

Mikey beamed with the brightest smile, and you just knew he was laughing, albeit drowned out from the ambiance. You were both having the time of your lives. Absorbed into a bubble fit for only the two of you, eyes locked on each other, neither party was ready for the stranger’s hands that snaked around your waist, pulling you in without any mind paid to you already having a devoted dance partner.

Chills set in and you turned to Mikey instantly, locking eyes, but the look in his eyes was enough to have your voice hitch in your throat.

That night ended with you both getting kicked out after Mikey wailed on the guy, but after a while, you both laughed and talked all about the fight on the way home.

The next time you saw that look was when you were hanging out with Leo while waiting for Mikey to return back from patrol. He had invited you over, and you planned to do it after wrapping up a few things, so he figured he could finish a patrol and be ready for you when you got done.

Unfortunately for him, you happened to finish your escapade much too early, and thus were at the lair awaiting his return. Leo happened to pass by, so you roped him into a conversation to bide the time. When Mikey did eventually come home, he stepped in to see you nearly keeled over in laughter.

You had been laughing so hard that when you noticed Mikey, you gave a weak wave and continued dying. He was curious what the joke was, but Leo simply shook his head and left, his own laugh dwindling down the hall. Once you recovered and were on your feet, you caught that same scary emotion swirling in his eyes. He tightened his lips and only softened when he turned to you.

More and more questions arose as you came to experience this look time and time again in all kinds of situations, but the one that finally made all the clicks pop into place was his outburst after you were with Raph.

He had been taking care of some villains on patrol with Mikey when you had ended up in the wrong place, wrong time. Their battle had turned to a violent one, with the villain bashed straight into a wall. Debris crumbled down right as you turned the corner, eyes shooting up to see parts of the building falling towards you. There was no time to move, so you just closed your eyes shut right and braced yourself.

But, no pain ever came, just a bit of dust. You opened your eyes, seeing a huge shadow casted over your body, and when you looked up?

It was Raph, who blocked the falling debris with his mighty shell.

“ Raph! “

You yelped, heart thundering in your chest, and Mikey misunderstood the shimmer in your eyes as Raph rose to full height, throwing the concrete off and away. He misinterpreted why you hugged him so tightly when he scooped you up, taking you away from the damage and ushering you to run the other way.

When you’re focusing on the wrong things, it’s easy to get the signs wrong, and boy had the ache in Mikey’s heart got everything so totally wrong. You liked Raph, didn’t you? Why else would you look at him like that? Did you like it when folks were bigger than you, unlike him who simply had an inch or two on you?

How could he be so stupid?

So, that’s how you ended up where you were now, seconds from entering your apartment when Mikey met you with a sour look on his face. You noticed that same glint in his eyes, still trying to piece together what it meant.

“ Why didn’t you tell me? ”

His voice wavered, and you responded with a hum of confusion. Inviting him in, he closed the door behind you both. His lips tugged down as he searched everywhere for the words to say. Finally, he found them and settled back on you as you were putting things down and unwinding.

“ With Raph! You like him, don’t you?! ”

“ Wha? ”

“ You—You! ”

He seemed frustrated, wracking his brain until finally he threw his hands out and shouted.

“ DO YOU LOVE RAPH MORE BECAUSE HE’S SO BIG?! ”

Silence blanketed you both as you processed his words. Finally, you placed a word on the emotion you always saw in his eyes. Struggling not to laugh at the absurdity, you snorted and shook your head.

“ Jealousy! That’s wh—wait, no, Mikey, no, I don’t ‘Love Raph cause he’s big’ ”

“ Then why do you like him more!? ”

“ Where is this coming from, Mikey, I don’t like Raph like that—I like you. ”

You stepped closer, and Mikey let you in. Your hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, and he leaned into them with such a desperation that you felt bad for finding this whole situation so silly.

“ Just, you always seem so happy when he’s around, and whenever he saves you instead, you always.. ”

His eyes were elsewhere as he spoke, almost as though he were seeing the absurdity in it all now with a clearer mind.

“ Ahh, mhmm, yup, alright so Mikey usually people are very happy when they’re saved from danger—and I mean, I probably look happy cause I’m friends with him too, but I’m dating you, silly. ”

You booped his snoot, smiling as his eyes lit up with the love you were accustomed to seeing them full of.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

If there was any one of the brothers full of insecurities, it would come as no surprise as the spotlight shone upon the red turtle, atop the winner’s pedestal. As someone who once led his brothers in the face of battle, who grew up with the elder sibling curse of forced parenthood, it came as no shock that there were a couple of problems sprinkled into his character.

While he had spent much of his life up to this point recovering and healing from what dared chip at his exterior, there was more than a few bits of stubborn grime that lingered on his surface. It ate away at him, leaving behind vulnerabilities.

Then you came along, and throughout the honeymoon period he experienced nothing but delights. Never had the negative Nancy in his brain perked up to talk her shit, misleading him in circles until he was a mess of unbundled, tangled up rope.

You were a light, something that seemed to power wash the grime away, cake over it with your delicate touch and sweet words. Much smaller than he, you were probably one of the kindest humans he met, someone he cherished more than life itself.

And that, in and of itself, was a vulnerability. You were his weakness, and the shrewd dark spots in his brain couldn’t wait for the rose-colored glass to shatter and let them sink their teeth into this beauteous opportunity.

The sensible part of him knew your kindness knew no ends, that it wasn’t limited or excluded to simply him or a select few. In fact, your sweet demeanor shared with his brothers? It was a breath of relief—it was an understatement to say he had been nervous to introduce you to the family. You were okay with him because he saved you, but his brothers and father weren’t present. They hadn’t been the heroes slamming down against concrete, scaring away the silverfish that preyed upon you one fateful night.

Turns out the trash-eaters had a hankering for good food, and you, all alone, on your way back home with a doggy-bag from Cleo’s Beach Shack, served to be the perfect target.

The night had been quiet, albeit suspiciously so, but your full tummy and weary limbs had their guard fully down. You daydreamed of the bed awaiting you at home, arms beckoning you forth with pillowy softness.

That delightful image was disturbed by the sudden rustling and clank you heard from behind. Turning, your eyes shooed away dreamland and were alert. An empty can rolled from a bush, tinking into someone’s trash can at the curb. Not a soul in sight, so surely it must have been one of New York’s infamous rats? Y’know, that creature that is practically extinct in this city, like there’s no way you would ever see them—definitely not at the metro nor the coffee shop, and surely never this residential street with primo rat hot-spots such as unsupervised trash cans full of food waste.

Yeah, of course, must have been a rat. You’re so paranoid, just hurry on home, nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad ever happens to pretty little guys like you, alone on dimly lit streets, lined with houses whose doors are locked to high hell.

Nothing bad, especially not like the cold metal that clamped firmly on your ankle. Never anything as worse as the chilling growl from whatever tripped you up, glaring with red eyes and flicking a long, sharp-looking tail.

“ Oh sh—“

Your voice feebly complained, raising into a scream to the heavens above as it lunged towards you.

Or well, towards your to-go bag, but who’s paying attention to the little things like that when your life is flashing before your eyes?

Thankfully, the end never came. There was the sound of a growling struggle after a tremor shook your shivering frame, and as you opened your eyes to peek at whatever held up your attacker, a silhouette towered over you. He casted a long shadow over you, which should have been intimidating as hell, but instead it left you feeling…

Safer?

In his hand laid two identical buggers, squirming and chomping with animalistic hunger. This had to have been worse than the rats, you’d take the rats any day, at least they weren’t massive.

… well okay, they are, but this is a whole ‘nother level.

The most shocking part was this giant hero taking a step back, assuming the position of a pitcher, and launching the creatures into the distance. There may have been a glint shining, and was that the cheer of an audience you were hearing? No, that was your imagination, obviously.

But you were not imagining this guy in front of you. Much too tall to be human, unless it was some basketball lead who somehow had balls of steel to save a stranger.

Every warning sign imaginable was washed away without a trace as your savior turned around and shot a shaky smile, warm as a summer sun.

“ S-Sorry about that, are ya okay? ”

He spoke with the timidness of someone a fourth his size, and you couldn’t help but be completely charmed to death.

From that day you would see him more and more, to the point that it felt as if maybe he had been appointed your personal body guard. Ah, but, you didn’t really mind, did you? You loved his company and his toothy grins. You adored his warm, gentle hugs, and it was too sweet how you could feel his hands tremble as they held yours ever so delicately.

So yeah, he worried to introduce you to his family, but the way you brightened up the room instantly had him starstruck. You’re perfect, that’s it. That’s the tweet.

The rosey glass shattered after a few lingering months of dating. His insecurities reared their heads, resting sharp grips on his shoulders as they whispered in his ears all kinds of falsities. You liked his brothers, but maybe you liked his brothers? Why else would you be so nice to them?

And, maybe that’s why you were smiling at Leo like that? Raph is right here, so why were you talking to his brother? He couldn’t even focus enough to heard you both holding the most mundane conversation ever about some shop that opened up over on Moore’s. He steeped in the tea of jealousy, filling his senses to the brim with worry.

The worst part about it was that if you liked Leo, he couldn’t even blame you. Leo was like water, while Raph was stone. Raph stood still, he could be bossy at times, while Leo was a spunky little river that would keep you on your toes. Leo was never boring, and he could keep a smile on your face for as long as the day lasted..

But he didn’t want any of that to be true. None of it.

The conversation was stopped by a meek voice asking for your time, attention shifting from Brother Blue to your beloved, clad in what became your favorite color in these past few months.

“ Y/N, can we talk? ”

Ignoring Leo’s nudge and teasing “ ooooooohs ”, you nodded with a smile, following Raph with a pep in your step.

“ Of course, dear. ”

That lead to the silence you currently shared—with him leaning against the wall of his room, gaze fixated on some smudges on the floor. That should be cleaned up, he thought, trying to not think of how you were sat on his bed, awaiting whatever it was he needed off his chest.

“ Raph? ”

You were the first to talk, already well acquainted with your love’s tiptoeing when it came to any sort of conversation that might be unsavory. You watched as he twisted his expression, tightening his lips—whatever it was, it was bothering him profusely, and you couldn’t help the pang gripping your heart..

“ Raph…? ”

Again, your voice seemed weaker this time. That was what gave him the drive to speak, he couldn’t handle leaving you in such a state, he needed to know if these worries of his were dumb!

“ Do you like Leo? ”

“ What. ”

Your response was so fast and curt, the product of being completely taken off guard with a left hook. There were plenty of other ideas you had for the direction of this conversation, such as having beaten his leftovers last week or how you have his favorite hoodie in your laundry basket right now. Maybe even the secret trips to Donnie’s, who was currently helping you get together a gift for Raph’s birthday next month. A particularly low worry even fretted that this might be a conversation about your relationship and how it should end.

But, instead it’s about Leo? What an easy question to answer!

“ Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I mean to say no. ”

Raph’s shoulders loosened and a breath of relief slipped out of him—when had he even started holding his breath?? Never mind that. You snorted at the absurd thought of liking Leo of all people.

“ Why would I like Leo? Raph, c’mere. ”

You held your hands out, and the way his hands fell into yours spelled out a desperation to be close to you. With a gentle tug, he climbed onto his bed, and you melted into his chest. A storm was brewing in his chest, his heart thundering nervously.

“ Ya just, Raph don’t know, something—he, just… Raph was worried, s’all. Afraid ya preferred him over a… ”

While he was searching for whatever word to insult himself with, you captured his attention with a gentle peck on the lips. Your fingers gently held his chin, turning his focus to lay fully on you.

“ Over a charming, handsome hero? ”

There was that adorable smile, peppering his lips as a light laugh erupted from his chest.

“ You think I’d prefer Leo, who is a risky little ticking time bomb, over my knight in shining armor? ”

He whispered a rebuttal, something along the lines of “ he really is, huh? ”

“ Oh Raph-a-doodle, never could I want anyone other than you. ”

Leaning up, you pressed your forehead against his and gazed into his eyes. They searched yours for a hint of deceit, for anything to latch onto and spiral about, but all he found was warmth.

Thus, the jealousy flame died out, and he plummeted backwards against his bed, dragging you down with him. He gave a heavy exhale as you giggled atop his plastron, scolding him for being so silly.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

The green of jealousy was a hue you never expected to be painted across the purple canvas you called your boyfriend, but surely there is a chance for any reality to blossom true, right?

Jealousy had sewn seeds far before either of you could catch on, oblivious to the roots which spiraled and narrowed vision to see only one option as opposed to the myriad of other reasonings. You had poured love into your dearest Donnie, so much so that you couldn’t even fathom any room for jealousy. How could he ever be jealous? Surely he knows full and well just how you look at him? Obviously he knows just how only he can pluck the strings of your heart, strumming love with each touch, in a way unlike any other.

Why, if you were Excalibur, then he was your King Arthur.

So, yeah, may the gods above forgive you for not considering a jealous Donnie as a reality to worry about—though, is it really too worrying? Your boyfriend being jealous? Kind of interesting, doesn’t it just trip up your heart into a flurry of skips?

No? Just me?

Anyways, you had missed entirely the shifting of his gaze when Mikey would enter the room. The low growl, the holding of his breath, none of it had appeared in your mind as you laughed along with whatever silly antics the youngest brother would get up to. Sometimes you would even entertain him! I mean, he is your boyfriend’s little brother, so it’s only right that you laugh at his jokes, get along with him, and all that good stuff.

But, jealousy was the type to hold someone still, to draw their gaze upon one stiff perspective and allow no other reasoning. For a man of science, even he was not above the laws of insecurity in relationships, so when he saw how bouncy his brother was around you, never did he contemplate the obvious. Nary a thought shall he consider that it was simply his brother getting along with his brother’s girlfriend, nor did he consider maybe you were being nice. No, the sour, bitter green dipped his head in the nastiness of jealousy, and all he could consider in this moment was that you must have liked his brother more.

Or maybe, his brother liked you and intended to steal you away? Why else would you laugh so heartily at whatever nonsense his brother spouted? Whatever reason was there for the times he would find you in the kitchen, fixing up dinner alongside Mikey? What else could explain you returning home with topside art supplies and personalized tips to his youngest brother?

Obviously the jealous mind of Donatello Hamato was going to omit one important factor: you did this with all his brothers. If they told a good joke, you would laugh. If Mikey made dinner, you were guaranteed to be in the kitchen helping by fixing you and Donnie’s plates to your liking. If there was something on the surface any of the brothers needed, you would totally put it on your errand run, delivering it during your next visit.

But, jealousy cares not for easy explanations. It craves the most dramatic interpretations, and in this case?

The juiciest interpretation was that Mikey had set his eyes on you, Donnie’s prized lover, and you had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.

No, no, no, Donnie says, not on his watch would he let you be swept off your feet by anyone else.

“ Y/N. ”

Donnie leaned forward, fingers firmly locking with yours and giving an urgent tug. There was a thickness layered in his eyes that left Mikey shrinking away, confused as to what he could’ve done wrong.

“ Let’s go,”

Straightening up, he couldn’t help the grin widening on his face in a “ I’ve won ” type of manner. You simply waved to his brother.

“ You haven’t forgotten why you’re here, have you? ”

The look in his eyes caused your heart to skip, unprepared for such a heavy gaze that you hadn’t yet experienced. A nervous smile rose on your expression as you looked anywhere but the face giving you a look that would serve to make you fall even harder.

“ Of course not, Dee. ”

Donnie noted your refusal to eye contact, and instead of assuming it was one of your usual bashful moments caused by yours truly, his thoughts were plagued with theories of Mikey somehow worming his way into the heart Donnie swore was his.

“ Right. ”

He muttered in a curt fashion, leading you both to his lab.

The uncomfortable awkwardness blanketing the atmosphere had not gone unnoticed as you followed him, thumb stroking loving little hearts upon the upside of his palm. Usually he would meet this with a firm squeeze, but you could recognize when your genius had his mind up in the clouds. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, was he?! And to think you came all this way to entertain his experiments, hoping to get a kiss or two, only to be met with unnecessary coldness?

What the heck, man?

“ Prepare to behold the wondrous creations of the genius, Donatello. ”

Whatever stink he had been brewing in just seconds prior had evaporated as he unveiled his newest creation: an air-fryer that could quite literally create anything from thin air.

You tried to ignore the distant shout of the youngest brother, something along the lines of “ Hey! Where’s the air-fryer?! ”

Donnie had not ignored it, nor had he dismissed the stifled laughter from you that he surely knew the cause of. His hands clenched, wrapping into crossed arms as he leaned his weight into the table.

“ Annoyed sigh. ”

While rolling his eyes, he muttered an annotation to the peeved groan slipping his lips. There it was again, you noted with a narrowed gaze, that odd discontentment he’d been soaking in this night.

“ Alright, spill it. ”

You mirrored his lean, relying on one of the structural pillars in his lab to hold your weight. Your fingers thumped impatiently against your bicep as your eyes soaked in Donnie’s body language. He seemed to stiffen, either nervously or defensively, you didn’t know.

“ Spill what? ”

He spoke with such an accusatory tone that you were almost ticked off. You held your tongue, hoping to keep this civil and not devolving into mindless argument.

“ Spill wh—?! ”

Sputtering, your hands gestured wildly before quite literally framing him. He knew what you meant, he wasn’t dumb!

“ Whatever is making you so, so—so THIS! ”

His brow raised, and he almost seemed insulted as you threw your hands up with a frustrated growl.

“ Why are you so upset with me right now? What did I do? ”

That seemed to do the charm of dragging out what you’ve been looking for, the explanation, as he straightened his posture and pushed off the table.

“ Oh save me the innocent act, Y/N,”

Confusion painted your face, and for a moment he physically faltered, unsure to continue after such a clear display of hurt across your pretty face. After a second, his mouth tugged into a frown, shaking off the hesitation to continue his claim,

“ I know you like Mikey, so just do us both a favor and go scurry along after him. ”

Donnie waved his hand off, pointing to the door. Whatever look you had on your face at that moment must have embodied just how deeply the pain in your heart crawled, right on down to your very core, because he seemed to balk at his own words. A bit of regret wrapped around him as he muttered something too low for you to hear.

Tightening your lips, you straightened this time and took a few steps to close the gap between you and him.

“ You will not talk to me like that, and what’s this about me liking Mikey? Your little brother? ME? You think I like him?! ”

There was no way, right? He couldn’t be serious? You, liking Mi—he might as well have been your brother too! You could never like him over Donnie?! What an outrageous claim, you thought, standing your ground in front of Donnie. This could have been avoided if he had just not been such, such a…

“ Obviously! Why else would you be bringing him gifts and helping him out in the kitchen? ”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted as he continued with an accusatory finger pointing no where specific.

“ And I’ll have you know that I have read about ‘Cooking together’ and I know how much of an intimate bonding experience it is! ”

The childish stomp he gave, throwing his fists against his sides stiffly, served to diminish almost all the frustration bubbling up. You snorted at the sight, causing him to loosen up, confusedly tripping over his words to sputter out a “ Wh-What, what is this, what’s so funny? ”

“ … You’re a riot, Dee. ”

Wiping away the tiny tears pricking from such a hearty laugh, your eyes met his with less of anger and more of the warmth he was far too familiar of.

“ Since apparently I’m the only one of us with some sense, I’ll have YOU know that I do that for all of y’all! ”

Sheepishly, he seemed to curl into himself as you poked your index finger right into his plastron to emphasize the “ you ”.

“ I bring you gifts all the time—April, Raph, Leo, hell, even Splinter, too! ”

Jealousy was starting to burn away, leaving behind the bashful shame as he started to finally contemplate the more reasonable explanations for your behavior. Silently he condemned himself for starting up this whole dumb debacle with such a blatant disregard to the facts.

“ And of COURSE I help Mikey with cooking. You have a specific palette that he doesn’t always remember fully, so it’s up to me to make sure you get a fulfilling meal you’ll actually eat, dummy! ”

Ah, now that was the part that did him in, something he didn’t even know. Just as you were going to continue, he stepped closer.

“ Wait, you do? ”

“ I do—do what? I said a lot of things, Donnie, be specific. ”

Derailed, you stumbled over your claims, lost suddenly at which point he had cling to.

“ I thought Michael was just inconsistent in his preparation of my dishes, but since you say that, I do recall my meals being much better when you were around. ”

His hands had found their way upon your shoulders as he spoke, gaze flitting all across the lab as he collected his thoughts.

“ I had suspected meals were just better when you were around because, well.. ”

You softened as his gaze fell onto you.

“ Because you were there.. ”

Silence fell upon you both, except more comfortably this time. He exhaled deeply, marked with his trademark “ relieved sigh ” then smiled at you.

“ Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into such a ridiculous argument. I was just… ”

“ You were just… Jealous? ”

Your teasing gaze was searing through him, so much so he shut his eyes tightly and groaned annoyedly.

“ As much as I would wish to not admit it, yes. I may have been experiencing,”

He waved his hand in the air, as if collecting his words.

“ Jealousy, towards your interactions with Miguel.. ”

Donnie was relieved as you laughed away all his worries, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. The moment lingered for a few, as if desperately needed to mend this situation, stopping only when you pulled away.

“ Alright, you’re forgiven… For now—BUT! Next time just talk to me, dummy, you got me all riled up for no reason. ”

With that, you gave a playful shove that had him gasping as though he were insulted, and quick to rush to his experiment’s side with more questions than he could keep up with.

Not like he hated an attentive and questioning audience, though. Much appreciated.

1K notes · View notes

itsharleystuff · 9 months

Text

↳ I. 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘕𝘌𝘙

Gif not mine! | Read part two here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.4k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After two years of absence and finally graduating college, it’s time you go back to Texas; to come home with your dad. But the prospect of facing the Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend and your secret crush, has your mind scattered.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), smoking, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, spitting, mentions of masturbation, pet-names (sweetheart, darling), moral conflict, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, pussy-drunk Joel, no use of y/n. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something:)

— a/n: I honestly have tons of ideas for this particular universe, so I might make more parts if y’all like it<3 btw, reader is a fashion designer in this. Thought it might be important to mention, lol.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You had never met him before. Not in person, at the very least.

Up until a while ago, you'd only seen him in the pictures your dad kept hanging around the house. And he had plenty of those: both of them in college, a road-trip with other friends or even after a hunt. Of course, you'd heard a lot about him too, but whenever you visited Texas your dad would dedicate his whole days to you exclusively. No time to visit his best friend-slash-neighbor, despite all the opportunities presented.

So the first time you ever saw him face to face was two years ago, in a Fourth of July barbecue he hosted.

Joel Miller.

Joel mother-fucking Miller.

Tall, broad, rugged looking, moody and with a seemingly stern exterior. An absolute dilf.

You always found him rather appealing— nothing but a silly little thought from whenever you would stare at the photographs. But meeting him personally was a whole eye-opening experience, like getting glasses after discovering you’ve had astigmatism your entire life.

"He liked you, y'know?" your dad had told you the next day. "Joel isn't usually that nice."

"Maybe it's because I'm your daughter," you joked. "I bet that helped with my impression."

"No," said him, laughing and shaking his head, "it was something else."

You didn't interrogate him on the matter. Whatever it was, you sure were glad to be in his grace.

That summer you saw a lot of him— specially since it was the longest you had spent in Austin ever since your mom passed away. You were twenty two at the time, right in the middle of your college studies. But the amazing thing about Joel was that he never made you feel patronized, neither did he treat you like you had to fit in the 'best friend's daughter' box. He was nice and made you feel comfortable in all ways possible.

Frankly, deep down you wanted him to be an asshole. If that were the case, you could've had the perfect excuse to push him away. Instead, your crush simply grew stronger.

Because, fucking hell, the man was hot in a striking, yet brooding manner. Joel Miller was attractive in the way a man is supposed to be attractive. Which was quite a contrast compared to the boys that usually neared you, who had no sense of themselves and were always fooling around with no idea what they were doing.

It was so bad that even now, after two years without seeing him —or your dad, for that matter— you feel anxious and eager at the thought of a reunion.

You're now officially graduated, and after a lifetime of traveling the states to visit both your parents, added to four years of college in New York, it's finally time to settle down for a while. To move in with your dad and make up for the lost time.

"Are you really going to stay in Texas?" Sophie, your best friend, asked through the phone speaker. "After all these years in the big city?"

"Yeah, I ought to stay with him. After all, we're the only family we've got," you replied, staring out the window of the cab. "When I told him I was coming he got so excited, you should've heard him. He said he'd throw me a homecoming party, can you believe that? Who's even going to attend?"

You hear her giggle on the other side. "What about that Mr. Miller you always brag so much about?"

"What about him?" you wondered with half strained voice.

"Oh, don't play coy, honey," she mocks. "We both know how much you want him to give you a sweet old Texan welcome."

"I have no idea what that is," you respond, smiling.

"I just made it up. No idea what they do in the south. I'm from Brooklyn." Of course she made it up. "But I meant it's pretty obvious how much you want his head between your legs..."

"Okay, yeah- I get it." You interrupt, starting to see familiar houses from your dad's neighborhood. "You're right. But he's... Righteous. Apparently."

"Sweetie, let's be honest," Sophie talks softly, "no man is righteous. Just show them a bit of skin and they'll be wrapped around your finger forever."

"I'm not sure I-"

"Try it. And keep me updated," she mumbles hastily. "I've got to go now. I have an appointment with the Ralph Lauren executives in ten minutes."

"Treat them nicely, Sophie. Don't waste my recommendation letter," the girl laughs.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm serious about Miller, though. Be sure to wear something low-cut. Bye, bye!"

She hangs up right when you're outside the house; the one you knew so well and at the same time felt so unknown. The one where you spend each summer and occasional holiday in. Your childhood home. Oddly enough, the door is open but you can't see your dad anywhere near. You hoped he'd be around to help you with the luggage, though it didn't seem like it.

"Dad?" You call for him from the entrance, carrying both heavy suitcases. "Anyone here?!"

The faint noise of footsteps is barely audible before you see him leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed over his sturdy chest.

Breathtaking.

"M'not your old man but pretty sure I can help you with that," he says with that characteristic Texan drawl of his, gesturing towards your cases.

"But if it isn't Joel Miller in the flesh," he tilts his head with a faint smile, approaching your side. "You haven't aged a day since I last saw you."

It was true. Perhaps his skin looked a bit more tan, his hair somewhat longer and curlier, his beard starting to gray. But everything else remained the same. He smelled just like you remembered —fresh soap and musky cologne—, and still held onto the same mode choices: flannels, boots and dark jeans.

"Quite the opposite to ya," he says, taking both your suitcases from your hands. "I like your new hair."

"Are you implying I look old?" Joel grins smudgily.

"None of that, darlin'. I'd say mature." His words manage to make your pulse raise. "Shall I take this upstairs?"

"Yeah, I- I'll walk you to my room," he chuckles as he steps on the stairs. "What?"

The man shakes his head as he makes his way to the second floor, followed closely by you. Nothing about this house seemed different. Nevertheless, you felt different.

"Nothing. S'just..." he takes a deep breath, but changes the subject quickly. "Your dad went to the store to get some beers. He'll be back any second."

You nod, opening the door to your dorm. It was exactly the same as it was two years ago, simply tidier and with a poster that read 'welcome home and happy graduation' in messy, colorful handwriting over your bed.

"He made that himself. Though, I've gotta say, I'm glad he didn't pursue an artistic career." You both laugh at the comment.

"A for effort." Joel sets your luggage next to the doorframe, being monitored by your keen eye. "Will I see you tonight? I know you're not a big fan of social gatherings."

"Your dad'll kill me if I'm not. He's got me here since ten o'clock to help him out." You look up at him, feeling vaguely nostalgic when watching your surroundings. "But I'm also hoping we'll catch up. I'd like to hear all about your adventures in the big city, aight?"

"Oh, I'm not sure you'd like that," you retort. "I'm afraid you'll see a side of me you might disapprove of."

Joel's brows shot up in a cocky expression. "And here we were all thinking you were such a nice girl. Forget 'bout me, sweetheart. Your old man would drop dead if he gets the news."

You can't hold back the smirk that spreads across your face as you look him dead in the eye. Truth be told, you had wished for him to change, in any sort of way. Maybe if he had gotten a couple more wrinkles or grey hairs you'd be able to not find him attractive anymore. But age suited Joel. Maybe if he stopped being so warm to you, so kind, it might be able to fade away.

'Righteous', you'd called him.

But he isn't so much. No man ever is.

In your last visit you weren't bold enough with him, but each time you'd say something slightly suspicious, every occasional brush or brief skin to skin contact during a shared moment, had an effect on him. He reacted to you, even if he thought you wouldn't know. Sure, he was well restrained and you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't actually looking for any signs. That didn’t change the facts, anyway.

"I've never really been much of a nice girl, to be honest," you retaliate, dragging the words. "But I bet you can keep a secret, can't you?"

Something in your voice causes him to unconsciously stop breathing. His brows knit together and it takes him a second to regain composure. However, he doesn't get to say a thing, your dad's voice suddenly floating from the floor beneath.

With your blood rushing, you practically flee downstairs, seeing his face change completely at the sight of his beloved daughter.

"You're here early, what the heck?" The man mumbles with a kindhearted smile, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Figured I might surprise you." The boxes of beer he bought were quickly discarded when he saw you. "So, are you surprised?"

"Very. But I was supposed to pick you up at the airport. Did you take a cab?"

"Don't worry about that," you reassure with a gesture. "It was included in the airport bill."

"Oh, man..." your dad turns to see his friend, "you leavin' already?"

"I have to pick up Sarah," he explains, peeking at his watch. "She had soccer practice today."

"Can I expect to see her later, too?"

Joel nods at your question, faintly beaming. "F'course. She loves you."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

Shortly after Miller's departure your dad sent you off to bed, arguing that you were probably tired. And even if you wanted to stay and chat with him for a while, you had to admit he wasn't mistaken. Either way, you still had the rest of the day —and plenty more ahead— to do that. Besides, he still needed to sort some things out before the party.

So, without unpacking or undoing your bed, you slept for hours, dreaming about how your new life was going to be.

(...)

When you finally woke up, night had already fallen. Your dad mustn't have wanted to wake you, but it made you feel in a rush to get ready. You took a cold shower and kept your makeup neutral in order to be quick. Furthermore, Sophie's advice to wear something low-cut was taken under consideration.

Judging by the noise coming from the backyard, you guessed the guests had already started to arrive. You heard talking and music, aside from smelling the hamburgers your dad was preparing. There were kids running around and a couple of people chatting in the living room when you entered, setting all eyes on you.

You knew most of them, neighbors and friends of your dad's. They immediately monopolized your attention, asking questions regarding your career life, reasons why you chose your major and saying how much your dad loved and missed you. It wasn't bad, you liked the courtesy and praise; nonetheless, in the back of your mind you were solely expecting the Millers' arrival.

After a while, you excuse yourself and decide to join your dad outside, stepping onto the fresh air.

"How's everything here?" you ask friendly. "Need any help?"

He was surrounded by some other of his pals, all of whom you'd met in your last visit, except for one– still, you couldn't help but think that he had a familiar air.

"We're alright, honey." You greet them all with a smile as your dad hooks an arm over your shoulders, offering a beer that you decided to decline.

"My niece was right," said the man you didn't know. "You're quite beautiful." He spoke subtly and on the right lines, giving you a affectionate smile.

"Ah- I don't believe you've met Tommy," your dad chimed in. "He's Joel's younger brother."

"Oh, yeah..." you remembered, "he mentioned you last time I came. It's nice to finally meet you."

Now that you saw him up-close, he did resemble his brother in a certain way. There was something very emblematic that all the Millers had, a sparkle in their eyes that you picked-up on Sarah, but that enchanted you in—

"Speak of the devil..." your head jerked to the side, watching as your most expected guests come to join you.

"My goodness!" you speak in surprise, sharing a hug with Joel's daughter. "You've grown so much in the last two years... You're even taller than me now and I'm wearing heels." The girl giggles, charming as always. "Didn't you just turn seventeen?"

"A month ago," she answers. "But let's not talk about that, it makes dad feel old."

"Joel?" You look behind her, locking glances with him. "But he's in his prime!" he rolls his eyes sardonically.

"Come on, sunshine," Tommy says, "you know it's not polite to make fun of the elderly."

They laugh and you can vaguely hear your dad scolding him, but don't really pay attention to it as they go back to their conversation. In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his smile.

He looked handsome. To you, he always did. Tonight, however, he decided to change the flannels for an olive button up shirt and a black leather jacket. His curls seemed carefully styled and he smelled of sandalwood.

"By the way," you address Sarah, "I brought you something from New York. It's one of my designs..."

"Seriously?" Her whole face lit up at your words. "You know how much I love your work!"

"Yeah, thought you might like it. But I'll give it tomorrow. I haven't unpacked and my things are real a mess."

"That reminds me." The girl turns to Joel. "Did you bring it?" he nods and takes a small box from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to her.

"What's that?" you question out of curiosity.

"I got you a lil' present," Sarah answered.

"You, did what?" Joel countered with a reproachful tone.

"I mean- I chose a present..." the man clears his throat and she rolls her eyes. "We chose a present, which he payed for. Buuut, it was my idea so-"

His dad snorts and shakes his head, turning to chat with the rest of the men. The younger one drags you away to have some privacy, taking a solitary spot under the big apple tree. During your conversation, you discuss the details of your so called 'highlife' and open the tiny box they gifted, finding a shiny ring sitting on the bottom.

"Do you like it?" You grin and nod in response, deciding to put it on in that same instant. "Dad noticed you like wearing lots of rings.”

Joel noticed.

"I love it," you remark. "Thank you. Both."

Your eyes drift to the crowd gathered around the grill, men laughing and sharing beers. The surprising part was that when you finally found your target, he was already staring at you. If he was expecting you to notice or not, there was no sign. But the older one held your lingering glance and everything else seemed to fade away, suddenly becoming white noise in the background. There was a challenging fire behind his brown orbs, kind of like he was saying 'I know what you're doing and I can do it too'.

"So," you turn back to Sarah with a strange, thrilling sensation in the pit of your stomach, "what's up with you? How's high school?"

"Boring. You know the drill."

"And the boys?" she almost looks flustered at the question.

"Complicated. Bet you know all ‘bout that." Your brows furrow slightly.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Just an impression," her fingers fidget nervously.

You shrug, deciding to change the subject. "You're graduating soon... Have you decided on any universities yet?"

"Not quite," she sighs. "I'm worried about my dad, really. I don't want him to feel alone if I move out."

A sly smile parts your lips. "He won't be. There's my dad, your uncle and... Me. I'll make him a Tinder profile. He'll be fine."

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. "He talks about you, y'know?"

"What, Joel?" you ask in a sarcastic tone, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Hard to believe."

"It's true! I think he admires you, in a way..."

With a hand gesture, you stop her. "Are we talking about the same man here?"

"Ask him. He might deny it, but it's often your name is brought up in conversations," she unfolds. "When you got that internship in Ralph Lauren, the articles you've written, magazines you've appeared in..."

"It sounds extremely rare for someone like your dad would be interested in the fashion industry. Even if it's just for me, cause I'm certain my own dad is the one forcing all this information onto him."

"Maybe," Sarah agrees. "Whatever it may be, I'm sure he'll be alright if you're around. At least happy, I think."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

The kitchen was a good shelter from all the gossip and noisy kids that turned out to be overwhelming after some time. No one came in there unless they needed to; and as of now they all seemed more concerned with other sorts of business. Besides, it was pretty late and most people had already headed home.

A bottle of wine was opened and poured into a glass, accompanied by a Marlboro cigarette from the depths of your purse, enjoying them while watching the night sky through the window. All your mind could think about was him and his odd behavior: Joel picking up on details, Joel talking about you with Sarah. Him. Just him.

"Am I interrupting somethin'?" you shake your head without looking back, recognizing his voice.

He walks over to you silently. The man is somehow very silent for someone so big, to the point where you didn't even listen when he opened the door. He leans against the counter, his body so close to yours that you can feel his warmth even if you're not seeing him.

"Want some?" you ask, raising your half-empty glass of red liquid and whipping your body to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder, closing the curtain in the meantime.

"Thanks," he mutters, showing his can of beer, “m'not that fancy." You titter, taking a short drag from the dart. "I'll have one of those, if you can spare."

With the fag between your teeth, you take the pack of smokes from your bag and hand it to him, shooting an inquiry expression.

"What?" he asks with an arrogant beam.

"Nothing..." your voice comes out weird from holding back laughter as you take the lighter in your fist. "I just didn't know you smoked."

He takes one to his lips, keeping close eye contact with you all the while. The action sends a rush of excitement throughout your whole body as you duck forward to burn the unlit end, staring back at him with hooded eyes.

"I rarely do," he admits, setting the package aside.

If he wasn't hot enough already, the practiced mannerisms he had when smoking simply added to his sultriness.

"Why you hiding?" you wonder, ashing the cigarette over the sink.

"Not hidin'. Just sent Sarah home, but I wanted to catch you before leavin'."

It didn't surprise you, they lived across the street and, after all, he did say he wanted to talk.

"Did I mention how handsome you look today?" He sneers shortly.

"Well, my daughter was very clear 'bout not wanting me to wear flannels around a fashion designer." Joel takes a sip from his drink, holding the cig between his fingers.

"She gives me too much credit," you say, a bit embarrassed.

"You deserve it," the man replies grimly. "And you look absolutely beautiful, too. One of yours?"

His eyes briefly set on your chest, for such a short second that you actually believed you had probably imagined it. The dress you chose for the occasion was one of your first designs; pearl colored, cinched from the waist above and slightly loose over your thighs.

"Yes," you gulp, diverting your gaze to the glass on your hand. "So how's everything 'round here?" Joel shrugs his shoulders with indifference.

"'S alright. Same as always," he meditates on it. "Boring without you to keep us entertained."

You utter a mocking snort. "Do my silly little experiences really entertain you?"

The older one tilts his head to blow some smoke. "You always talk so freely about your dreams and the goals you've accomplished. And your dad's enthusiasm is contagious, I might say." He licks his bottom lip, thinking. "I don't know... I'm glad someone close is doing all 'at. Feels like you ain't afraid of anything."

His words put a bright smile on your face. "Life's a risk, isn't it? Better be bold if you want to end up somewhere."

He huffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence veils between you as you enjoy the alcohol and cigarettes. It was always nice to hang out with him like this.

"By the way, how are you holding up?" the question clasps his curiosity. "Parenting a teenager can be quite difficult, I've heard."

"Jesus," he grunts, "it's driving me insane. Not her per say, but the whole 'boy talk' 's just too much."

"I bet," you chortle, "although, I wouldn't worry too much. It's just a phase."

"Yeah?" Joel scoffs. "You gon' tell me you ain't got tons of guys chasing around ya' anymore?"

"Oh, they're there," your tone matches his energy. "All these old ladies kept trying to introduce me to their sons a couple hours ago. Nevertheless, I gotta say..." He leaves the empty can on the bar across him. "Boys make me sick."

His eyes widen in surprise, but the rest of his face remained in composure. "How so?"

The atmosphere swiftly changes, a kind of heated tension rising to the top, palpable in your fingertips and waving in his chest.

"I've had my fair share of them," you explain playfully. "Guys my age never know what they want or what they're doing. I've decided to change my focus to men, instead."

He knows what you're up to. You can tell he does.

The question is: will he take the bait?

"Meaning?" Joel's lips curve around the orange filter in a smug smirk. You jerk your head to the right, setting the glass of wine aside.

"I'm not sure..." he laughs dryly at your hesitation.

"I think you are, sweetheart."

The abiding silence that followed that statement was nothing but electrifying. Clouds of burning tobacco linger around as you share an intense gaze, creating a solemn, intriguing ambience.

"Well, how am I supposed to tell you, out of all people, that I'm looking to get attended by an older man?" you rag. "Don't you think it's inappropriate?"

"Mhm," his grin is still visible under the dim, warm lights in the kitchen, "clever girl. I see what you're tryin' to do."

"I don't know what you mean," you murmur, scowling and intending to sound clueless.

He doesn't buy it.

"No-uh. You're many things, darlin', but dumb isn't one." He leans forward, his face barely inches away from yours, eyes scanning your features. Eventually, he decides to keep playing your little game. "Why's that, anyway?"

"See, Joel," you blow some smoke right under his nose, "boys I've been with always take. Everything's gotta be about themselves. I've never been the type to believe in relationships, but if they're gonna suck at that too, the least they could do is make you cum, not leave you drier than a fucking desert." Your words daze his mind and he finds himself pending for something that he wasn't supposed to. "Shit- I'm sorry... I shouldn't talk like this."

"Damn right you shouldn't," he rasps out, "what would your dad think if he heard you?"

Joel Miller never considered himself a weak man. Not once in his life. It's not who he is.

But right now, under your curious, passionate gape, he's slowly crumbling.

"Good thing you aren't my dad, then."

His heart is pounding in expectation and confusion. He keeps thinking 'this can't be happening'. He tries to convince himself that it's all in his mind, like he did last time you were in Austin. But you bat your pretty eyelashes at him an it feels like you're begging to be taken away.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you know what you're asking for," he talks strictly, like you wouldn't actually understand. "Say this things to the wrong person and they might take advantage of you."

You laugh under your breath. "Are you the wrong person?"

He remains silent for a couple seconds, contemplating your question, meditating this whole parade in order to keep his head cold and ignoring the increasing heat that soared all around.

"M'not sure," he huffs.

It's true. He doesn't know anymore.

Your cig has burned out.

"I think you are, Mr. Miller."

Oh, such a clever girl indeed.

Suspense is killing him, like he's walking on the edge of a blade. Your closeness is intoxicating, the smell of your perfume gets him dizzy and his skin burned there where your limbs brushed against each other's. His lungs felt like crushing under the weight of anticipation.

"Quit beating around the bush," he downright demands. "Tell me what you want."

Honesty is a virtue; one you didn't lack with him.

"You," his chest puffs with a shaky breath. "Ever since we first met, you've been the only man on my mind."

Dangerous. This whole situation is dangerous.

But Joel would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same. That was the worst part of it.

For little more than a decade he had been perfectly content with his singleness; the sole thought of going on a date being absolutely terrifying. His best friend did try to set him up with a couple of his female acquaintances multiple times; yet he declined or merely accepted out of sympathy, never taking things further than a one night stand. Joel never expected that the one woman that would grasp his attention would be you.

He had never been into younger girls, at least not that young. But there was something enchanting about you. Whether it was your charming smile, your cunning eyes or your confident, determined nature that made all heads turn in your direction when you walked into a place.

Something about you bewitched him.

Perhaps it was none of that and he was simply depraved. Perhaps it was all of that and more.

For all he knew, you could've put a spell on him. Since your last visit, you had been on his mind like a mist that fogged his senses. He felt torn apart by his morals and desires, trying his best to get rid of the ghost of you.

That was until your dad told him you were coming back to stay for an undefined amount of time. What kind of sick game was fate playing with him?

"You tryin' to get me killed?" he locks a snarl behind his teeth.

His cigarette has burned out too.

"I know I'm asking for much," you say, "that I put you in a difficult position. With my dad and all 'at." Swallowing hard, you muster enough courage to raise a hand to his jacket, just laying your palm flat there. He allows it. "So I understand if you say no. You can decline and we’ll just act like nothing happened."

If Joel were a better man, he would've.

He definitely should have.

"It's okay. I can always call the next older lad on my hotline," you joke. "Your brother Tommy... I think he'll be interested."

He'd be damned.

No. Joel was just a man, and like every other, he could only take so much.

Quicker than you'd expect, his hand catches your wrist and moves your arm away from his body, the other raising your head up with two fingers under your chin. His face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin.

"Is that so?" his voice drops an octave. "You disappoint me, sweetheart."

Your legs quiver, feeling suddenly weak on the knees and hot on your lower abdomen. "How?"

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, staring down at you as if he had you wrapped around his finger. Truth be told, he really did.

"Thought there was a bit more fight in ya'," he whispers, letting go of your hand and laying his palm flat on your hip. "I haven't yet given my answer and you're already thinking of fucking my brother?"

You lick your lips nervously, glancing at his own and then back at his eyes. Your breathing pattern is completely altered and the ache between your legs starts to grow.

"Or was that just to tease me?" he asks with a grin.

"I don't know..." your hands clench in fists, wanting to touch him but wallowing in this new power dynamic. "Maybe."

"That's rather vague, darling." He takes a step forward, eradicating the distance that separated your bodies. "I'll ask again..." his fingers curl around your throat, not applying pressure but merely holding you in place. "What do you want?"

It's too late to look back now. Though you wouldn't think of it. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

Music to his ears.

He doesn't respond, eyes boring into yours intently. The unholy words that you spoke scatter his brain and all he wants to do is accept. But he wouldn't indulge so easily. If you wanted to play games, he'd teach you how to play better.

You tilt your head upwards, searching for his mouth with limited mobility. Your eyes briefly close at the feeling of your lips barely brushing against his own, waiting for him to kiss you. Except he does not, simply caressing the soft flesh teasingly.

Joel's body is flushed against yours, keeping you caged between the counter and him. The hand that rested on your hip gradually travels to your ass, splaying his fingers over your covered butt and giving a firm squeeze that makes you squeal. Every breath he takes is the very air you breathe. The proximity and his scent are slowly —but surely— making you lose your sanity.

"Such a pretty girl," he mutters hoarsely, "with such filthy thoughts." You look at him through heavy lids, gaining enough courage to move your hands to his broad chest. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Please, just- kiss me." The plea is so desperate and pathetic that it doesn't even sound like you.

"Can't do," he says at last. "If you want to be treated like a slut, you'll get treated like one. Sluts don't get kissed." You feel yourself get wet with his attitude, trying to clench your thighs together in order to create some friction. "I can't give you what you want, sweetheart. Not tonight, at least."

His lips move to your jawline, tracing open-mouthed kisses along your bare neck and collarbones that have you panting in seconds, his facial hair scratching your skin deliciously before coming back up again.

"But don't worry, angel," he pours into the shell of your ear, "I'll make sure you cum, since you want it so bad."

"Fuck, Joel-" you stutter when he abruptly spins your body around, his growing bulge grinding against your lower back.

His face nuzzles on the crook of your neck as his hand roams over your thigh, leisurely making its way beneath your dress. You feel his teeth lightly scraping your flesh, the hardness of his crotch poking your ass and your own arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jesus..." he groans when his fingers reach the dampness between your legs. "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked."

"I meant it when-" your sentence gets muffled by a strangled moan that escapes your lips, "when I said I've been wanting you for so long."

His body vibrates with a laugh, ruffling your hair with his breath. He starts rubbing small circles on your clit, making your whole body shiver and squirm while he pushes the fabric aside, gathering your slick with his index and spreading it all the way back to your bud, repeating his actions until your arousal covered his knuckles.

"Wanna know a lil' secret?" his voice comes out soothing and husky as he eases two digits inside you, stretching you out in a way that makes both of you groan. "I felt the same."

His fingers are thicker, bigger and rougher than yours, adding to a new, unlocked satisfaction you had not yet experienced.

Joel took his time to explore the spots that provided more pleasure, that had your hips chasing him and biting your lip to refrain from making noise. His other hand gropes your breast, caressing your delicate nipple over the thin fabric, easily done due to the lack of a bra. He keeps altering his ministrations, collecting the wetness from your core and bringing it up to your bundle of nerves, prior to sliding into your cunt again. All that can be heard in the kitchen are the squelching, utterly pornographic sounds of your pussy and your pitiful whines, inaudible to everyone but him.

"You like this, sweetheart?" he hums, feeling your sticky arousal drip down your thighs, rejoicing in your responsiveness to him. "Being fingered by a man twice your age while your dad's just a few steps away?"

You squeeze his thick fingers, picturing just how big his cock must be just from the boner pressing your back. "Y-yes..."

He simply loves the way he's got you so needy, coming undone with so little. You were easy to please, so he wondered how awful your past lovers must've been if they couldn't get you wet. A primal instinct surges on Joel, wanting to erase all of them from your mind, as he wanted to be the only man you ever think about if you're having an orgasm.

"That's my girl," he coos, thrusting his fingers at a nice pace, curling them upwards to hit that soft spot that made your knees tremble.

You hold onto the counter for dear life, throwing your head back and laying it on his chest. He sighs every time your cunt tightens around his digits, mesmerized by your enticing cries and whimpers that had him painfully hard in his jeans. The sensation is overwhelming, adrenaline filling both of you at the prospect of getting caught.

A burning sensation builds on your lower belly, tiny beads of sweat rolling down your temple at the incoming crescendo. His thumb kneads over your clit with the right amount of pressure and your body gives in to him, all tension melting away as your muscles relax.

"Just like that, darling." His deep voice reverberates through you, holding you up by the grip on your waist. "Take what I give you."

"Joel, Joel, Joel-" he chuckles once again at your delirious state, biting down the sensitive skin on your neck as he helps you carry out your high.

He pulls his fingers out and you mewl in complaint, mouth slightly agape. You can't see his face but you watch as he takes both his sticky fingers to his mouth, your chest rising and falling while trying to regain composure. He licks them clean, savoring your sweet taste and feeling his cock twitch from the mere idea of his tongue exploring your folds, taking that same flavor straight from the source.

"I'm not done with you," he growls, swirling your body around.

He's fucked up now. He has found his own, favorite drug between your thighs and can’t seem to stop himself from getting it. He had a small taste and now craved for more like he was a famished man.

"Can I get a kiss now?" Joel finds your insistence amusing.

Those eyes of yours were driving him insane, staring at him wildly, sparkling with an etching desire. Your lips were plumped and glossy, cheeks flushed red and hands fisting his shirt. Seeing this side of you was like displaying one of his darkest fantasies, the kind that would randomly appear in his dreams and had him waking up guilty and needy.

"No," he grumbles, cupping your face in his hand and forcing you to glance up at him. "Open up."

You obligue without hesitation, parting your lips shamelessly— which further spurs him on—. Almost instinctively, you already know what he's going to do, catching that inquiring look in his darkened eyes. With a light tap to his chest, you give him the green light and he spits right into your mouth. You don't think about it twice; in fact, you can't even process what you're actually doing, unconsciously swallowing down while keeping eye contact.

"Good girl," he purrs, caressing the side of your face with gentle stokes of his thumb.

His voice and praise send you to oblivion, managing to give you goosebumps. But Joel won't allow you to catch a break, glueing his lips to the hollow of your throat and making his way down, down, down, until he's kneeling before you, feeling the way you tense and shake for him. He grips your body strongly, the pads of his thumbs dipping on your hipbones as he rests his forehead on your lower abdomen, taking a deep breath in. Your hands run through his curls, tenderly grazing his scalp with your nails.

The man feels as if he's wasted; your scent, all around him, on him, intoxicating every fiber on his body. He'd be haunted by it, by you, in the upcoming days.

He reaches beneath the hem of your dress, fingers skating along the band of your panties and tugging them down at a tortuous pace, meanwhile his eyes pierce your soul. Joel lets the drenched underwear pool at your ankles and drags the thin, satiny fabric all the way up to your tummy, inhaling sharply at the sight of your sticky slick covering your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." he touches you like you're sacred, like he was granted permission to do so but couldn't fully believe it. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful," he mumbles when he coaxes your legs apart.

You blush at the comment, growing partially embarrassed. A shadow of pure lust covers his gaze as he stares at your exposed, wet cunt. He basks in the view of your damp skin and swollen clit, feeling his mouth water and his pants strain.

"Joel-"

"Forgive me, darlin'. Been a while since I..." he clears his throat, trying to regain hold of himself, "since I went down on a woman."

Your fingers tangle on his locks and you give him a reassuring smile. "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," Joel blurts out. "I need to taste you, sweetheart. Would you allow me to?"

Did he even need to ask?

"Yes- god. Please..."

It's all he had to hear. He leaves small kisses on your swollen lips, taking pleasure in your silent gasps as his mouth inched closer to your clit. Your hips buck against his face when his tongue finally landed on that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan a bit louder.

"Fucking hell," you babble, gripping his hair tighter.

He groans, his tongue flattening above your delicate bud and sucking on it. Joel can see in your face how hard you're trying to refrain from making any noise, your brows slightly furrowed and mouth partially open as you throw your head back. His chest swells with pride, knowing he's the one making you feel this good.

Then you have to hold yourself up when he suddenly hooks one hand around your calf and lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder to keep you open for him. His face buries between your thighs, tongue sliding across your wet folds and savoring your arousal mixed with your previous release. He uninhibitedly whimpers, lapping up the slick that kept pouring out of you, devouring your pussy like he had never had anything as good.

The man can't take it anymore, he's reached his limit. One of his hands snake down to fumble at his belt, as he sloppily palms his bulge through the briefs, trying to get some relief. He's drunk, feral, when he eats you out most earnestly, finding your weak spots rather quickly— the ones that made you shiver, that made you shut your eyes from sheer pleasure or grind against his face, but specially the ones that had you tugging harshly at his hair.

"Joel- please, I'm so close..." you cry out lowly, the only thing that kept you standing being his hand on your waist.

His beard makes your skin feel feverish and it's nearly impossible for you to hold back a whine when his nose grazes your clit and right in that instant you're coming hard, nerves buzzing and ears ringing. You feel lightheaded, white spots appearing in front of your eyes as the orgasm rips through you intensely. He drinks you down, licking you clean as if it was a crime not to, and you gasp at the overstimulation.

He helps you steady yourself as he gets back on his feet, hovering above you. His lips were shining with saliva and your own juices, dripping down to his chin. You breathe rapidly, pulse still racing while you look up at him with glassy eyes.

It's right in this moment when Joel knows for certain that he'd do it all again, consequences be damned.

If he was going to hell for what he'd done, then he would gladly do it, knowing that he had seen heaven the moment his tongue was inside you.

"Did I live up to your expectations, sweetheart?"

Instead of replying, your hand shoots to his jaw, the pad of your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He lets out a shaky exhale and you don't miss the opportunity to finally lean in for a kiss. And despite his previous declines to your wish, Joel happily corresponded. You taste him and yourself when his mouth explores yours in depth, feeling his unsteady heartbeat against your own chest.

It's madness; a blur of wet, messy kisses as your hand coasts down his pants and underneath his briefs. You swallow down his lewd moans when you grasp his throbbing length, a deep groan coming from his throat when you circle the tip with one finger, coating it with his leaking precome. He takes your wrist to prevent you from going any further.

"Enough of that," he grunts, still not pushing your hand away. "I'm too worked up, I don't wanna be coming in my pants like a goddamned teenager."

You respect his decision, drawing your hand back and guiding your fingers to your lips with a cheeky smile. Fucking tease.

"I think it'd be hot," you murmur, dragging the words and leaning next to his ear. "Maybe afterwards I can help you clean up the mess..." you carefully nip at his earlobe, delighting in the way his body jumped and a sigh escaped him. "With my mou-"

"Fuuuck..." the mental image you were describing was not helping his situation. "We- we’ll do that next time.”

And before you can move a muscle, he gives you a soft forehead kiss and rearranges his pants, asking you to say goodbye to your dad in his behalf as he sneaked out. You stand there for a couple of minutes, dumbfounded and completely blown away from your post-orgasm bliss, still processing that all this had actually happened and it was not just another of your sexual fantasies and daydreams.

Joel was in a similar position. In spite of taking a cold shower and fucking his fist in the meantime, tonight's events kept being relived every time he closed his eyes, making him yearn for you all over again. It was a tough night of not much sleeping.

He thinks he might feel guilty in the morning.

Maybe he should. But he honestly doesn't.

Not even when he faces your dad the next day and he tells him how happy he is to have his darling daughter back home.

Nor do you. There's not a hint of guilt in your body when you go to his house in the next few days, solely to spend time with Sarah. No shame in the looks you share, regardless of the little to zero time you could spend together, always being surrounded by other people.

None of that mattered. All the while, the only question that roams your minds is: when will you do it again?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #dbf!joel

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comfortless · 4 months

Text

This Time Around

König + fem! house sprite reader

content/warnings: reader wears dresses, König is soft and lonely, pining, comfort & fluff.

notes: @deltrese put the thought of König inheriting a little dollhouse from his grandmother in my head whilst i was watching Arrietty and… yknow. likely not anyones cup of tea but the idea was too cute to not write out eheh. not proofread, apologies! wc: 8.5k.

She survives on drops of honey, dew trickling from the asters springing up along the brick skirt wrapped around the lower level of the house, sips of canned soup and crumbs of bread when he forgets to clean up after a dinner prepared far too late into the night. He’s far from a messy man; he keeps his house in lovely shape, but he’s weary, more tired than any of the mice undergoing torpor she’s crossed paths with in the attic.

In her own way, she’s grown fond of this giant. Not fond enough to reveal herself in full, but she’s polite enough to sweep his crumbs from the table after he’s gone to bed, spend a day patching up an old shirt of his with a tiny thorn and scraps of thread if she notes a tear in the fabric of some ugly, dark thing he wears. She’s always amazed when he notices her busywork, too. The way he will hold the shirt in front of his face with a boyish grin after taking notice of how skillfully it’s been repaired, the way he calls out, “Danke freunden!” in that soft tone of voice that reminds her of a breeze passing through a windchime.

She knows that he doesn’t truly think that anyone else is here at all; that’s just how humans were— silly things. Something strange happens and they’ll try any way that they can to rationalize it or personify whatever may have caused it. König looked the part of a rational man, but her heart seems to swell when he gives away just how superstitious he truly is.

He’s ritualistic in some ways; covers his mouth when he yawns as though fearing that the Devil himself will come scurrying out of his windpipe, the wind chimes he has hanging up on his front porch, even knocking on the wood of the dining room table as he passes through lost in thought about something. She might be, too, because she always whispers her wishes of good favor to him when she knows he’s heading off on some grand adventure in the world outside.

She likes that she can make sure he feels less alone.

The man never has any visitors, and more often than not, he’s away. She likes to imagine he visits beautiful places, climbs mountains she will never in her lifetime see the peaks of, runs his calloused hands over the sharp edges of leaves and plucks dandelions puffed with seeds to blow wishes into. She pictures him having sweet, doting friends, all smiles when he’s around. Though, she is almost certain that the reality is nothing of the sort.

She’s seen him come home with fresh wounds, blood seeping through gauze haphazardly wrapped around his side. She’s seen the look in his eye when he stares blankly at the lifeless wall for what feels like hours, breathing out long sighs as his fingers curl and loosen in repetition at his sides. Regrettably, she’s fretted over the sight of tears welling in his eyes to the extent that she’s almost dared to come out of hiding, to console him just a little.

He’s hurting.

She’s alone too, here. There are others like her, of course. Groups of them cluster in lived-in homes chattering all throughout the night, getting into any mischief their tiny hands can fall upon to prepare. Often times, when a little sprite such as herself chooses a place, the others come flocking, too— making merry, stealing from their humans in ways hardly worthy of a second glance and starting colonies in the rafters, far out of sight.

But no one else will touch this place.

The house is a beautiful thing, meant for a family. There were so many rooms that she had yet to even explore herself. Not a pet in sight to chase after her and swallow her whole. The floors are soft carpet she often beds down in on nights she can feel he won’t be returning, plush and soft and so unused to human traffic. She loves it here, even if her kind do not. She might even understand why, too. It’s so melancholic, haunted by this miserable giant with heavy footfalls and tears perpetually unshed, held back by the grace of quivering hands in a body with too many scars.

She’s tried to count them before, once, whilst he was changing in his room. She wasn’t trying to steal a glimpse of his body, no, she only wanted to see what stories he was hiding, written on flesh. Perched on a bookshelf, she watched the giant as he pulled his shirt over his head, some tight, black cloth that didn’t look cozy at all. He had a cut running from his navel to his chest, a few penny sized keloids along his ribcage. The giant’s body was pale, as though he had never at all caught the eye of the sun, the only thing making him look still-alive and healthy were the layers of muscle across the chest, bunching down to his abdomen.

A pretty sight, undoubtedly for women similar in stature to him, but to her she sees only his fluttering pulse in the vein along his neck, the shaking of hands too large, and those horribly sad eyes that shatter her heart with only a glimpse.

She had nearly been caught then, with her palm splayed out over her chest in open awe and sympathy for this poor, cursed beast. His gaze had snapped over to the appeal of small movement on the shelf only to find nothing at all; she had tucked herself behind a copy of a Ungeduld des Herzens.

That was two months ago.

He had left the following morning, a black duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously walked through the home shutting off lights and closing doors. Except… he left two lights on this time; the kitchen and his bedroom were cast in a white glow. She thought, assuredly that the artificial suns in their glass casings will burn out by the time that he returns. She also realized how strange it is that he would do such a thing at all. The man was prone to his habits, and it welled her up with dread to think that perhaps the book hadn’t entirely concealed her shape, that he had seen her peeking out between old pages covered in thin layers of dust.

She occupied her time scrounging around for anything that may have suggested his cerulean eyes had fallen upon her, When a human catches sight, it’s best to leave as though a house sprite had never been there at all; she certainly didn’t care for uprooting from this cozy, quiet life in the presence of a man that she harbored a fluttering, sympathetic heart for.

To her relief, she found nothing of note.

— — —

It was rare for him to be gone this long. She’s lost track of the days after a quaint seventy-three. A decent meal is harder to come by when he isn’t accidentally feeding her; the cabinets and pantry are shut, and there’s absolutely no hope of her small hands prying open the big portal leading to a perpetual winter that humans referred to as a refrigerator. Dew drops, wild strawberries and blackberries get tiresome after a while, and sneaking outside is dangerous, anyway. The birds don’t think her anything more than a bug, something simple to descend upon and scoop into a hungry beak.

She gathers up a thin piece of thread and, after tossing it into the air an innumerable amount of times only to have it land in a heap at her feet, she finally manages to hook it onto one of the knobs of a cabinet where she knows he keeps brightly colored packages of store bought cookies.

Those were for rougher days, always in date because god knows the man probably had never had a day that wasn’t somewhat harrowing. She’s seen him drink jåger and munch cookies while watching the television late into the night more times than she can count.

She pulls the thread tight and takes steps backwards to fling the cabinet door wide open. It takes a lot of effort from her small size, but she prides herself on managing even without a cluster of other sprites to help her along. Her stomach rumbles when the package comes into view and she readily climbs into the cabinet, up a few cans and boxes to reach the second shelf.

The package is opened with careful precision. She’s diligent at emulating the rips and tears she’s seen on similar ones to make it look like an accident occurred on some storage room shelf. Her heart swells in utter delight as the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon wafts up her nostrils, her mouth watering by the time she pulls one of the baked goods free from its confinement as she seats herself on the thin wooden board of the shelf with the treat in her lap.

It’s when her lips part and she lowers her head to take a bite that her ears prick to the sound of the front door opening. She missed the sounds of the turning lock, likely whilst fussing with the plastic and now… now it’s simply too late for her to haul off her spoils, shimmy down back to the linoleum floor, manage to unthread her makeshift cabinet-door-opener and shut it, leave it as though it had never been touched.

She’s never made a grave error like this. There have been close calls, certainly, but never one that set her off with the alarm of certainty that she would be discovered.

The lock clicks back into place, and there’s the sound of heavy boots being dropped to the floor before soft footfalls could be heard against the plush carpet.

… Headed straight in her direction.

Don’t come in the kitchen. Do not come in in the kitchen!

She finds herself in a tossup between petrified by her own fear and utterly entranced by the idea of being caught. Finally, after years of watching her giant from shadows and covered perches. The idea that he might crush her like a bug or capture her to marvel at like a pet crosses her mind, certainly, but a part of her wants to believe that her fondness for him wouldn’t be entirely unreciprocated.

From her perch, she can see the dark camos, the looming shadow as he trudges into the room only to stop, immediately, when he notices the little door flung wide open. He’s wearing that hood he wears often when he returns, a scrap of bleached fabric with eye holes torn out. She’s taken to stitching it more times than she can count, breathing in the scent of sweat, of strange lingering smoke as she works to fix the threading along the eyeholes. It’s difficult to make out his expression like this, but his blue eyes dart from the open cupboard to the rest of the room before landing back there.

He grunts out a noise of confusion, and she can almost hear his thoughts. He wouldn’t have left it open. The lights had been intentionally left on. That was a sign she had foolishly overlooked.

He takes careful steps toward her, so close now that only the fabric of his tight-fitting trousers filled her view. To her horror, her amazement, his knees bend and he kneels down slowly. This wasn’t the way that things should have went, she should have been more cautious. The hood comes into view all too quickly. Blue eyes widen as they land on her with that big cookie still in her lap.

“Hallo, little one.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.

He’s speaking directly to her. He sees her. He’s not afraid, yet her heart is burning with the icy touch of pure dread.

She clutcheds the pastry tight to her chest, lips pressed into a thin line as she takes a tentative step back into the shadow of the cupboard. So tense, so uncertain. She didn’t want to leave, silently willing him to close his eyes, turn away, forget about the tiny thing he happened upon stealing his food.

Instead, he stares down at her as though he had just found a will to keep living, a reason to stick around despite his bloodied wardrobe and the ever-present loneliness.

“Kleine engel… you are safe, please don’t look at me like that…”

He’s so much kinder than she had ever anticipated, his heart laid bare between the red rings of flesh lining his eyes. Her giant is nothing but gentle, cooing at her in such a quiet voice as though she were a wounded baby bird. Those eyes were filled to the brim with such wonder and hope that she couldn’t turn away now even if he was some rotten carnivorous animal.

“Please don’t look at me.”

The words fall from her lips despite her defenses lowering, shoulders relaxing and her eyes filling with that same look of hope he held.

It’s strange, how someone so massive doesn’t seem to send her scurrying for the hills. He’s huge, but that tenderness in his eyes that makes her feel comforted, reminds her of the gentle lull of streams and the sky filled with puffy clouds like castles in mid-morning.

“Ach… But you are so…”

Tiny, strange, a myriad of words hanging on his tongue, and she feels every one of them with each flutter of her pulse.

“… so pretty. Kleine puppe.”

She drops the cookie at that and it falls to the floor of the shelf with a soft thud that makes her jump in place.

The other sprites have their stories. It’s nice to sit and listen from the comfort of a canopy of grass when another passes through. They speak of the humans that they’ve encountered just as they speak of beasts, keen-eyed cats with sharp claws bared ready to feast upon those like herself. Dangerous things not meant to be associated with. Not one of them has ever mentioned encountering one that looks at them like… this, as though they were something breathtaking, something to be protected.

He huffs out a laugh at her shocked expression, his fingers drumming upon his knees as he watches her.

“I am not a ‘puppe’.”

“A fairy, then?”

She sighs, heavy and exasperated as she sorts out her dress and bends down to retrieve her meal. A pretty thing she had sewn herself from a vintage napkin, blue blossoms and thin lace.

“Are you going… to tell anyone?”

Her giant shakes his head with a laugh, and of course he does— who would he tell?

“I will keep you a secret, puppe.”

“Good, or I’ll curse you!” She warns, trying to puff her chest to seem bigger, more intimidating. She’s too cute to seem anything more than a frightened bunny, and his eyes are swimming in mirth at the sight of her. He’s like a giant child, finding out the fairytales in his books were true all along, only… not the ones about boiling folks like him down to bones to teach a lesson, just the ones where true love and sweet princesses existed.

He asks her a million things in rapid succession then— where she came from, how long she’s been here, what she’s doing, why she never came out before, how she can even exist. They make her head swim and she doesn’t answer a single one. He makes no move to touch her, doesn’t move any more than his nervous fingers and his beautiful eyes. They crease at the outer corners with each wide smile he undoubtedly has beneath that hood and her heart stutters each time like the flapping of little bird wings desperately seeking safe wind to coast in a storm.

She decides that she likes him as she brings herself to sit on the edge of the shelf, nibbling at her cookie whilst he tells her his name, that he works as a soldier— a colonel, sounding prideful despite the fact she has no clue just what that entails. He speaks to her in an energetic whisper, drops his shoulders and lowers himself further as though trying to appear her size, despite the vast disparity between their statures.

“Do you have a place to sleep?” König asks her suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as he looks out towards the den with a pinched brow. It was almost as though he expected a castle fit for her to appear from thin air, white gates and a shimmer of fairy dust surrounding it all.

“The floor is soft… sometimes between the sofa cushions, too. You’ve nearly sat on me before.”

“Nein. That will not do.”

He stands to his feet before she can protest and leaves the room. A part of her still teeters on the edge of running off, escaping before they became too familiar, and yet a more impulsive part wills her to wait as she hears the creak of floorboards beneath his feet whilst his footfalls ascend up into the attic.

She pictures the mice scurrying away in fright, just as she should, while she kicks her feet and waits patiently. The taste of cinnamon and sugar remains on her tongue as she places the remnants of the cookie aside and licks her fingers clean of sweet dust.

König returns a few moments later, a large box cradled in his arms.

“Close your eyes, puppe.”

It doesn’t make sense for her to leave herself vulnerable so soon after their impromptu meeting, and she doesn’t want to, but she does as he asks anyhow with a soft smile on her tiny face. Feels her chest pool with a mixture of excitement and fear as she hears him shuffling about the kitchen, the thump of something heavy being placed on the counter encourages her to flinch. She can hear small objects being set down carefully, the water running from the tap for a moment before the sound of something soft meeting wood fills her ears. It all quiets after a moment and she feels a gentle nudge at her side.

Her eyelids flutter open to see König’s finger gently pressed against her waist, his blue eyes beneath the dark hood fill her vision entirely. He’s so close, too close. As if sensing her apprehension, he raises his head back to look down at her instead.

“It is alright. I have a gift for you.”

König nudges her once more before she realizes that he’s inviting her to climb onto his massive hand. Her breath catches as she glances from the calloused flesh to his eyes and back.

Her kin would scold her severely if they were here, tell her she’s gone too far that there’s no way she will ever come back from this if she accepts. She stinks of human already. That’s how she justifies the way she climbs into his palm with her hands folded into the lap of her dress. His other hand curves around her, not touching, but hovering closely enough to keep her in place as he slowly rises to his full height and carries her over to the counter where he immediately allows her to clamber off before dropping his hands to his sides again.

The sight she’s met with dissolves any lingering fear she had harbored against him.

On the counter sits a wooden dollhouse, painted a lovely shade of blue, the roof a quiet shade of gray. It’s a stately thing, speaking of yesteryear’s Victorian styled homes with its vaulted roof, even a small turret beside the upstairs balcony. Expertly crafted and far too beautiful, perhaps even prettier than König’s empty home. Her eyes are welling with tears as she slowly ascends the three sturdy steps to the front door.

“You like?”

She can’t bring herself to respond immediately. She’s too caught up in this, opening the door with a gentle pull as she wanders into the house. It’s furnished in a hurry, some of the furniture misplaced, but… everything is here, as it would be in a normal, human home. A couch that seemed almost tailored for her size sits beside a little rattan shelf, a small table before it, a little hearth, a full kitchen and upstairs she finds a bedroom complete with a canopy bed. The curtains hanging off of it are blue like the outside, like the floral wallpaper adorning the dollhouse. She tests the bed with a gentle hand, marveling at how soft it was, how the sheets bunch beneath her palm.

Then, she approaches the window in admiration of all of the small details, little etchings of plant life carefully scrawled along the wood. The lock even clicks open as she pushes the little sheet of plastic framed by white to rise.

“It’s perfect,” she chirps out to her giant. “It’s so beautiful…”

“Oma gave it to me when I was a boy.” König’s reply sounds bittersweet, but his eyes are shimmering, as though the fact he had made this small woman so happy had been the height of his year, perhaps even an entire decade of his life. She’s seen him quietly weep to himself long into the night, only a breadth away from him as she tucks herself further into couch. He’s seemed gentle, less of a titan and more battered then, but he’s never seemed this sweet. “And now I am giving it to you.”

— — —

Sleeping in a bed is different. It’s quiet and soft with no worries of getting crushed by a heavy boot or threats of having a presence too large finding out about her existence. Those things do absolutely nothing to lull her to comfort as a dull the throbbing in her chest blossoms and continues all throughout the night ceaselessly. She tucks the blanket a little tighter around herself as she tosses and turns on the small mattress.

Mornings are different now, too. When König wakes, he taps at her front door to pull her from her restless dreaming. He has a ritual, expecting her to come out in one of the dresses from the dollhouse’s wardrobe rather than her scrapped clothing with a small mug and a plate in hand. He gives her a drop or two of coffee and food from whatever breakfast he’s pieced together. Sometimes it’s a cookie from the cabinet. She feels like a contented housepet these days as he leans over the counter to speak to her.

It’s painful how attentive König is. His eyes don’t leave her when she speaks and he consistently asks her if she needs anything, if there is anything that he could do to make her feel more comfortable as if he hasn’t already provided her with refuge and companionship, things she hadn’t even realized she had been longing for. As if he hasn’t already made her feel things for a human that no sprite should! Really, the way he loiters about with the stupid grin plastered across his face while she stumbles out of her abode to greet him does nothing to make the flutter in her chest feel warranted. It’s there no matter how much she turns her head away from him and barks out her warnings of curses and other mischief; gnaws at her every time she hears his laugh or he tells her yet another stupid story of things she knows nothing of.

She listens, anyway, utterly mesmerized when he speaks of rescuing hostages or tearing through men like a rampaging bull. He explains to her what guns are, shows her and lets her run her tiny hands over polished metal. She should think him violent and obscene, but the way he looks at her as though she’s all he has stifles any judgements before they can leave her lips.

It quickly froths to a point that she realizes she’s come down with a terrible crush. She worries for him after hearing his tales each time he steps foot out of the house on another deployment, rushes from whichever corner she’s occupied with hurried little steps to greet him. She lets him carry her around on his shoulder sometimes, even leans over his arm when it’s stationed on the counter just to feel him near.

She knows better, which is why she finds herself skittering through tall grass to seek another of her kind. Hoping for a reminder that she’s making too many mistakes. The trip is a short walk for a human, but takes her from morning to sunset to reach her destination, a narrow alder tree full of knotholes with sprigs of dandelion surrounding it.

“You what?!” Bellis exclaims, the very second she’s managed to spill her story and slump against a ruggedly crafted table within the trunk of the tree. Bellis’ voice was like the chirping of little nightingales, and she looks cute when she’s surprised— the other sprite’s brown eyes twinkle in such a way that it makes her think of stars falling into pools of honey.

“Yes… we spoke,” she huffs, curling her arms around her waist, her face feeling hot and her eyes dreamy. Bellis knows the look well enough, the other sprite has it every time she locks eyes with her wife, another sprite far too pretty. It’s affection, one that she graciously spares her friend from commenting on.

“It’s alright, you know… just be safe.”

“Of course…”

She anticipated some long-winded lecture of dangers, to be beaten by words targeting her own selfish wants.

Instead, Bellis only offers comfort and the hope that her feelings are not a lost cause.

“You aren’t the only one who has ended up falling for their human, you know?”

“I thought we were supposed to avoid them, not dream of them.”

Bellis giggles and drapes an arm over her shoulder as she prattles on about sprites and glamours that could make them bigger. She tells her of a couple only a weeks travels away, a male sprite and a human woman, how he feasts upon wild berries and golden herbs under each new moon to keep himself human-sized day and night for the woman that he loves. Bellis reminds her that the other sprites frown upon it out of fear for their own safety, but she also reminds her that she’s damned to live a life far longer than the object of her affection, anyhow, and that if he already knows of her existence then what’s the harm in it?

Those words fill her with fantasies about a happy life, where she can hold her giant properly in an embrace, rather than wrapping her arms around his thumb to satiate the burning affection running rampant through her.

They also damn her to heartbreak when König returns.

He comes home after two short weeks this time, rather than months and she rushes to greet him as always. König bends down on a knee, scoops her up in his palm and brings her over to the sofa where he sets her on the opposite end from where he sits.

“How was your trip?” She asks him sweetly as she plops down onto the pillowy cushion below, fidgeting with the hem of her dress in excitement. She knows what she knows now, and she truly could not wait to tell him, to give life to the newfound feelings in her chest. She wonders what König would say; would he take her on dates? Would he dance across the room with her as she’s seen sprites in the throes of courtship do before? Would he kiss her? The thought makes her feel warm again.

König, on the other hand seems perfectly composed and lost in thought. His hands are fidgeting, but this time, not with themselves. He’s holding a device she doesn’t recognize, tapping at the little screen with the same look in his eyes that she reserves solely for him.

“It was fine.” He mumbles, and for the first time he doesn’t elaborate. She looks forward to his stories. Time away from him is difficult now. It passes slowly without their morning chatter, without his stories, without the films she watches with him late into the night. He’s taught her to use the remote, sure, but it’s not the same without him towering at her side.

“What is that?”

“A phone.”

She listens intently when he explains what this strange object is, even shows her the bright screen and lets her tap her hand against it a few times as she looks at the shifting colors with wide eyes.

“I visited a friend while you were away.”

He rests his phone in his lap and looks down at her then, his interest piqued.

“There are more like you?”

“Yes, lots.” She giggles. She tells him of Bellis who lives in the alder with her wife, of how her dark hair curls and her voice sounds like the chirping of birds. König pays rapt attention as she speaks, belays his curiosity of the prospect of there being many more like his little housemate with a tilt of his head.

“I made a friend while I was away.” He gestures toward his phone with a smirk. “Pretty, like you, but bigger.”

König explains to her what a ‘dating app’ is with a look of pure glee on his face. She’s never seen him so happy, not even when he first met her. It’s not a concept she can wrap her head around, her kind just happen upon one another, sing and dance and feast together until love blooms between them. There’s no need for little, lighted rectangles when it came to courtship.

“She’s coming to visit soon.” He pauses as his phone lights up again, his eyes scanning over the message on screen as a grin spreads over his thin lips. “I will have to hide you.”

Her face scrunches in disdain at that as she rises to her feet to pad a bit closer to the hill of his thigh, spread over into the next seat. She places her palms against the rough fabric of his pants, looking up at him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

“But I don’t wanna hide anymore — we are friends.”

The man’s smile falters a bit then, as he nods his head in agreement.

“Ja… but she will be more.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I am taking her on a date.”

König seems so happy, and yet she feels as if she’s being bitten by a viper. All of that talk with Bellis was for naught, because the human man that’s won her heart by telling her of his creature comforts, of war and sharing his meals with her has left her to have his heart stolen away by another.

Despite the way it hurts, she doesn’t find herself upset with him. He isn’t like her, and he’s been alone for far too long. She reminds herself that König deserves to be happy, especially after all that he’s done for her.

She only lets herself cry when he brings her back to the dollhouse and she sinks into the sheets of her bed.

The following morning comes and she wakes feeling refreshed before König even begins his tapping. She bathes in the little plastic tub filled with lukewarm water König had graciously fetched for her the night before from the faucet, clothes herself in one of the many doll dresses found in the little wooden wardrobe of her home. Dainty florals like the wallpaper in the little wooden house, only this time pink rather than blue.

When König taps at her door, she’s already prepared with her tiny mug and plate in hand, a smile on her face.

“Guten morgen, puppe.” He greets her with a lazy grin as he opens his palm to take her dainty kitchenware. His yawn is cute when he turns away to begin filling the liner of the well with coffee grounds. She follows after him across the countertop with hurried steps to match his vast strides.

As he prepares their breakfast, they speak endlessly of dreams, sweet syrupy things. He tells her he dreams of flowers sometimes, like the ones on her dress, and she tells him she dreams of exploring the world outside with him.

“I will carry you to the top of a mountain one day, little one.” König says sweetly as they both sip at their coffee. He doesn’t prepare it black as often anymore, often adding sugar and milk simply because he knows that she likes it better that way.

She tells him she doesn’t need to see the tops of mountains, because she already gets a perfect view when he carries her.

— — —

“I’ll be back later.”

König is dressed strangely, she notes as she watches him from the arm of the couch. He’s dressed casually, more so than she had ever seen him, which is a large statement considering the man normally roamed around his abode in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants. Tonight, however, he’s chosen a black t-shirt with some text scrawled across it that she can’t quite read and tough denim. It’s an odd sight when she’s grown so accustomed to the bare flesh of his scarred torso and gaudy military camos unsuited for cozy, indoor wear.

The giant crouches to lace up his boots with one hand while the other holds his phone. There’s that smile on his face again, but she easily takes notice of the way his hand shakes with it in his grip. He’s nervous, but never so with her.

It’s strange that he’s more comfortable with a little creature in his home than he is with his own kind.

“Oh… your date,” she murmurs, standing up to her full height, despite how small it may be.

“Ja, my date.”

“Can we watch another movie when you get back?”

König nods his head as he approaches the couch, slipping his phone back into his pocket before gently stroking the top of her head as though she were just a small kitten.

She doesn’t like the fact that he doesn’t see her as anything more than a cute pet any longer. Sprites didn’t keep track of their ages as humans do, celebrating the day they were born into the world with silly parties and gifts, but she would hazard to guess she’s at least a century older, maybe more. This wasn’t her first home, only, in the last she had watched that family wither away to an endless rest.

König was different; she wanted him to stay, thrive, live forever here with her. A selfish, silly wish.

When she leans into his touch, she thinks of the couple Bellis spoke of— a sprite and a human woman. It could be the same for she and König, if only he saw her for what she truly was, what she was capable of being.

“Ja, little one. As many as you like.”

She watches as the door closes behind him with her heart in her throat.

König does not keep her waiting long. If she had to hazard any sort of guess, she would assume that the moon hanging in the sky had barely moved by the time he returns. She hadn’t even left the couch, lying on her back staring up at the ceiling when the front door is flung open.

If it were possible for him to somehow look more pitiable, he does in that moment as he kicks off his boots and rests his phone and keys on the table by the door. She knows without a word exchanged that she should not ask him what’s happened. The broad shoulders were slumped, his face somehow paler. In that moment, her giant seemed even smaller than her.

She sits up and presses the buttons on the remote with her entire hand as König had shown her how to do, loading up some Austrian film he had told her was his favorite when he was just a boy. He offers her a lazy smile as he carefully places himself a respectful distance away and leans back into the couch. The movie plays while she occasionally speaks up to ask him what certain words mean, and he patiently teaches her, seeming thankful for the distraction she eagerly provides.

She doesn’t wake in her small house, in her tiny bed, this time, instead pressed against his thigh with his hand draped over her in the world’s heaviest blanket. When she raises her head up to look at him, peacefully resting with his head tilted against the back of the couch, jaw slack and dark lashes fluttering she makes a firm decision.

The golden herbs and berries Bellis had mentioned were on the far side of the forest. A long, dangerous trek, especially for someone who didn’t know the way. Rousing a mouse to treat as a steed could work, but the urgency caused her to fret. She wanted to meet his gaze and not fear stumbling back with each exhale of his breath, to be strong and capable enough to make her giant somehow feel as safe as he made her feel. There was no time to befriend a mouse and train it proper, not if she intended to do this before the new moon came and went.

She slips from beneath König’s limp palm, off of the sofa and out the small gap in the window to set off.

— — —

The early morning is alive with the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves and calls of strange animals a distance away when she makes it outdoors. She shields herself beneath a broad fallen leaf, hunkering down to soil any time anything soars or wanders too close for her liking. Morning dew chills her to her bones, and she has herself convinced that after all of this she will most certainly craft herself a coat, perhaps one made out of a sleeve from one of König’s old shirts. He would allow it, she’s certain. The thought of him even wasting a day away to help her fills her up with another warmth to carry on.

Her little dress is filthy before she even makes it out of the yard.

Tall grass quickly morphs into a forested trail, the trees so vast and tall, filled with the chattering and singing of others. She waves to some of them, turns her nose up at a few that beckon her to join their little communes hidden beneath layers of tree bark and moss. She spots a red fox chasing after another in the midst of play, they chitter and whine as they topple over one another before bounding off into the brush.

When the sun completes a lazy crawl high up into the sky, it’s rays of warmth beaming down on to the back of the leaf, warming her fingers as they curl over it to keep it in place, she knows she should stop and rest. Tucked away in the shade of a small mulberry bush, she shoos away a vibrantly colored caterpillar before cleaning off one of the berries with a handkerchief she finds in the pocket of her dress. A small lunch that simply leaves her wishing for König’s breakfasts instead, always warm and filled with moments of soft laughter.

She wonders what he’s spending his time doing now, almost feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him after what had assuredly been a terrible outing with a woman he had admired. Did he miss her? Was he thinking of her, too? Searching through his bookshelf and beneath his couch in an effort to find her? She hoped so.

Her journey ends when night finally comes about. The moon above is a mere sliver, but it’s enough to frame the clusters of goldenrod in a soft, white glow amidst a sea of inky darkness. She cheers in utter delight when she realizes she’s made it, that despite no map or guides her senses were keen enough to carry her on the right path. She carefully gathers a few clippings, dropping them into a neat pile before seeking out the strange berries Bellis had told her about. Her thoughts are flooded by the idea of how she and König will dance, how she will tell him in a voice as loud as his own that she’s fallen head over heels for him and that perhaps, he can even teach her to use one of his many weapons before they clamber onto the couch snug and warm to talk throughout a film.

Those thoughts keep her warm when she beds down in a nest of wild grasses.

The next night fills her with excitement. The sky is darker with the new moon hanging up above, only pinpricks of starlight break through the dark. She pictured herself human sized as she performs her little ritual, feasting on berries and swaying with a sprig of goldenrod in a little dance before she bites down into it to. There are other sprites here, doing the same. Some get bigger to move or for silly things such as being able to shop in human markets or taste meat for the first time. They sing and giggle just as she does, and she sees the face flush with love of the one she knew Bellis had spoken of. It lasts the entire night, and she’s far too excited to sleep or stay out when all is done.

She doesn’t know when she’ll change shape, not having thought to even ask, but the sight of the other sprites had solidified her belief that it would come to pass.

The way back feels far shorter than the way forward. She finds herself back in the yard just as the sky settles into mottled purples and orange and puffy white clouds. The smile on her face makes her cheeks hurt, and her chest and legs ache from exertion, but she treks on until she meets the brick foundation of the house. With and arm raised and a foot dig into the firm clay, she begins to climb up towards the window still left slightly ajar.

Only, she feels a warmth at her side that tosses her back into the grass steps away. It pulls her breath from her lungs and it takes a moment for her to force herself back up into a crouch and her vision to cease its swimming. She’s always found cats to be cute from a distance away, all soft fur and pleasant sounds. The one before her, however seems menacing, its claws are bared and its pupils blown as his mouth hangs open to scent. The orange of its fur is like fire, the yellow of irises like the sun itself.

This thing was going to kill her, she knew it before she even caught sight of the way claws had slashed through the side of her dirty dress leaving shallow gashes in her flesh.

The cat rears back, shifting on its haunches in preparation to pounce as she wails out König’s name in a near-silent prayer that he would come rescue her from this adorable little murderer.

The cat is caught in arms the size of trees mid-leap. It yowls for a moment before a hand gently begins to stroke the fiery fur behind its ears. Her giant coos to the little beast, and the vibration of a soft purr could be heard as she dusts herself off and stands.

“Are you alright, little one?”

His voice is sweet as he carefully sets the cat back into the grass and scoops her up instead. She looks pitiful— dirty, injured and panting as though she’s just escaped Hell itself. König’s expression grows horribly concerned before she can even catch her breath enough to respond.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles as she rests her weary head on the palm that feels more like rough stone than living flesh. “I was only gone for two nights, did you have to get a pet?”

König laughs at that, shaking his head as he takes her back inside the house with metered steps.

“Nein, I did not. He’s the neighbor’s.”

He shuts the door behind him, taking care to ensure the scruffy feline didn’t sneak inside.

“Let’s clean you up, hm?”

The man offers her a human bandage for the scrape along her waist before she wanders into the dollhouse to bathe, dress the wound and change into something less dirty.

After everything, she finds herself utterly exhausted. She tells König good night wishes, but her giant is hellbent on keeping her in his sight. After a close call like that, she doesn’t protest when he tells her they should sleep on the couch again instead. It’s safer, and after two days apart there’s little more that she wants than to be close to him, tucked under his palm eternally safe. König only gets through the start of a story before she’s fallen asleep curled against the side of his thigh. It doesn’t take long for the giant to follow suit, either. His soft snoring is present in her dreaming, a gentle sound accompanying the breeze of wind through a field of lavender where they sit hand-in-hand.

— — —

König does not wake her with gentle tapping the next morning. Instead, it’s a bark of surprise that jolts her from her sleeping. Her vision is blurry when her eyelids flutter. She can make out the view of the coffee table, the television beyond it, and somehow it feels wrong. She was accustomed to straining her neck to look up at things, yet seeing them now she doesn’t need to at all. In fact, it feels stranger when she notes her head is no longer resting on the cushion of the couch below, but on a broad shoulder layered in muscle instead.

König is staring at her as though he’s just encountered a ghoul. In fact, he’s trembling too. His reaction is enough to prompt her to shrink back, away from him and retreat to the arm of the couch. Only, she can’t fit the entirety of herself there as easily as she had many times before. Her legs are much too long, and making her ascent only brings her hands into view. She holds one to her face and marvels at it before her gaze trails down, down and she notices she’s nude. The little dress she had been wearing was no more than a tattered and torn mess on the couch beside König, who’s still gawking at her.

He turns his head away rigidly after a moment while she sits bewildered by her change in shape. The man returns after a beat with a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers in hand, thrusting them towards her graciously as he keeps his face turned away. She can make out the red tint on his cheeks, the way his lips part only to slam shut when words fail him and she laughs full and giddy as she slips his clothing on and stands up to twirl about the room.

“It worked!”

Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears now. Shouting from her regular stature still resulted in a mere whisper, yet this… along with seeing all she can hear all. Just as he does, she sounds of rustling wind chimes.

She reaches for his hand to pull him along in her rhythmless swaying, and he obliges with a sigh and a shake of his head. König’s grinning, though. Even more so than when he wasted his time tapping away at the phone screen. He looks happier than she’s ever seen him as he clumsily shuffles with her.

“Little one… what did you do?”

He’s still a fair bit bigger than her, but she stands the height she feels as though she should. Her giant is still a giant no matter what silly magic she uses, but it’s fine, because he’s not looking at her as a tiny doll anymore, but in utter amazement instead. The way his pulse races and his pale cheeks burn crimson isn’t lost on her.

She explains to him just what the other sprite told her, tells him about the one she saw so in love with a human woman he did the same each month to keep himself more her size too. König halts her movement as he tugs her against him and pulls her into an embrace, the very thing she’s yearned for since the afternoon they began to speak. She knows he’s confused and entirely confused, but he bends to rest his chin on the crown of her head and squeezes her so tightly that she knows he’s grateful for this small miracle too.

She helps König prepare breakfast this time. Having watched him ready his coffee pot dozens of times by now, she knows how to operate the small, black machine. She prepared the toast too, with a gratuitous sweep of jam over each slice of the warm bread. König is still overly gentle with her, keeping his distance and not resting his hands on her unless it’s required or she prompts it. She does, often intertwine her fingers with his even as they eat, which earns her a shy smile and a gentle squeeze each time. Her giant isn’t nervous with her, their conversations are the same. He tells her that she’s pretty as often as before, cups a steady hand on her shoulder when she reaches out to embrace him after their meal.

She thinks ahead and leads König into the forest to gather a plethora of golden herb and berries to stuff into the winter box for the next time she will need to perform her little ritual, and he swears to her that he will stay up the entire night to watch over her then. The walk is so much shorter from her height now, but she doesn’t forget to tap at Bellis’ alder and flash the sprite a little smile and a wave when König has his back turned on the way back.

He still has his work, and she waits at home for him like a doting housewife. Only now, he returns with gifts. His closet is no longer dark green and black— there are patches of soft colors and whites between, floral fabric and lace, dainty things that seem comical amidst the tactical articles and denims she knows he’s scrubbed blood off of a few too many times.

They don’t share a bed, but they still cuddle against one another on the couch. Hand-in-hand as she’s always dreamt of. In fact, most nights it’s his bed that she sleeps in while he rests elsewhere, and he doesn’t mind it at all. He even tucks her in and presses a kiss to her cheek that makes her so giddy that she can’t find sleep until a half-hour afterwards before he flicks off the lamp and leaves her to her dreaming.

— — —

She’s better at keeping track of time after adjusting to a more domesticated life. König’s been out for fifty-four days, but she doesn’t have to miss him so much. He’s gifted her a phone, sends her letters with his stories scrawled out in black ink. The calls are frequent, and she finds she loves them most of all. They’re at odd hours often, and he always breathes out an apology for having woken her that pulls a giggle from her, because they both know she wouldn’t have preferred to wake any other way than from the sound of his voice.

“I miss you.”

He sounds tired when he says it, and she imagines that he is. Those weary looks from before they had ever even spoken weren’t unwarranted and she knows well enough now. His tales of his heroics were not all spoken to simply boast.

“I miss you too, König.”

He huffs out a laugh into the phone, and she imagines his smile reaching the bright eyes that she loves, twinkling in mirth.

“I should let you sleep.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pauses to chew on her lip, heart sailing up into her throat. “Will you be coming home soon?”

He grunts out his confirmation. “Tomorrow.”

“I wish to take you on a date then— a picnic, maybe. I can bake a cake.”

König falls silent for a moment, and her breathing halts entirely as she slumps back against the bed— his bed— feeling as though she were still just as small as before. Surely… she could not have misread all of those little looks, the warmth and his fluttering pulse she felt as she rested her head on his arm so many times before. She parts her lips to recant her statement, but there’s no need. The contented sigh she hears in response is all of an answer that she needs.

“Ja, please. I would be honored.”

#könig #konig #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #cod fanfiction #konig fanfiction #könig fanfiction

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daisyvisions · 5 months

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✦ Day 33 - Wildcard (Double Penetration)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Boyfriend!Hyunjae x afab!reader x Boyfriend!Younghoon

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.2K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), threesome, porn with minimal plot, mask kink, poly!am relationship, double penetration (vaginal and anal), oral (m! receiving), fingering, nipple sucking, rough sex, lots of teasing, pet names (princess, good girl, sweet thing, baby, slut), double creampie, slight manhandling, ass slapping, slight roleplay, implied foursome

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: I can officially say my kinktober list is complete! Sorry this took longer than it should’ve BUT as I’ve said before, kinktober ain’t over til I say it’s over. Had way too much fun writing this in the end hehe enjoy! Proofread once

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

You’ve always loved celebrating Halloween for as long as you could remember. From picking the treats that go inside the snack bowl at home to the movies that you planned to binge watch with your family.

But most importantly, every year you made it a point to always dress your best. From cute silly costumes as a child to more sexier options as you started becoming an adult.

So when your boyfriends Younghoon and Hyunjae said they’d give you the best trick or treat surprise for you this Halloween, you didn’t think it would end up like this.

“C’mon baby, can’t you tell who’s dick you're sucking right now? Thought it would be obvious.” The man wearing a ghost face costume teases as holds your face together, fucking his length inside your mouth.

The other ghost face behind you chuckles with him, giving you a hard smack on your ass as he continues to rut himself inside your wet cunt. The squelching noises coming from you turning him on with every thrust.

From a third person point of view and with no context whatsoever, anyone who might’ve been watching the scene happening in front of their eyes right now would’ve thought an incredibly kinky porn was being filmed.

But to you, it felt like you were in heavenly bliss.

Sure, this is the first time you're being fucked by both your boyfriends at the same time. But your hot boyfriends fucking you with ghost face masks on? And the fact they’re making you guess who’s who? Yes please…

You release the cock in your mouth with a pop, slowly jerking it off as you pause in between trying to catch your breath.

It would’ve been really easy to guess whose cock you were sucking by now. But these two were ten steps ahead by making the room incredibly dark, leaving you to guess based on feeling alone.

“C-can’t you give me a hint?” You try to hold back a moan as the ghost face behind continues to roughly pound you, pulling back your hips til his whole length is bottomed out inside you.

“Nuh-uh princess. Remember the rules-” The ghost face in front of you caresses your cheek. “If you guess wrong, you don’t get to cum.”

You suddenly yelp when the ghost face behind you delivers a particularly hard thrust before slowing his movements and snaking his hand between your thighs to rub your aching clit. His fingers start quickening their pace, trying to get you closer to the edge.

With the little window of time you have before you reach your high, you try to recall all the moments you had with each boyfriend to give you any sign of who is currently fucking you and whose cock you’re currently jerking off.

“Fuck baby. Keep doing that-” The ghost face in front of you hisses. “Such a pretty slut for us don't you think?”

“Only ours. Isn’t that right?” The ghost face behind you slaps your ass once more.

You try to see if you could guess by the tone of their voices, but they both sounded too similar since the ghost face masks they were both wearing had muffled their voices.

And suddenly, the clue to finding out who’s who hit you.

You look up at the ghost face in front of you, giving him the prettiest doe eyes you could give.

“Please Mr. Ghost Face, can I ride your cock?” You ask with the sweetest innocent voice while trying to somewhat play the role you’re currently in.

“Yeah? Wanna ride my cock sweet thing?” He rubs his thumb on your bottom lip. You nod in response.

The ghost face behind you give your ass one more slap before pulling out, while the ghost face in front plops down onto the bed and instantly manhandles you. Pulling you to straddle his lap before grabbing your hips and pushing it down onto his length.

He wraps his arms around your waist for a moment, holding you down as the other ghost face positions himself behind you, teasing the tip of his cock at your asshole before pushing his length completely inside.

You let out a desperate moan from feeling incredibly full from two cocks dragging in and out of you both inside your cunt and your ass. The overwhelming feeling of being this full pushing you closer to your orgasm.

You hold onto the edge of the headboard, trying to find balance from how hard both your boyfriends are going at it with you.

“Fuck- look at you. Those pretty tits.” The ghost face under you groaning as your breasts start to spill out from your bra. You tried to hide your smirk, knowing you’d be getting your answer in a few moments.

“W-want you to suck on them, please-” you beg.

“Yes please-” He groans as he slightly adjust his mask enough to free his mouth and take in your hardened nipple between his lips, sucking them like there’s no tomorrow. Swirling his tongue around and slightly nipping them, making his cock twitch inside you from the act.

Bingo.

“P-please. Wanna cum so bad-” you moan out, feeling your orgasm getting close to the edge and tipping off any second from now. You could also feel both of their thrusts starting to become a bit sloppy signaling their own highs nearing as well.

“Then what’s the answer princess? Who’s who?” The muffled voice of ghost face behind you whispering in your ear.

“Who’s fucking that little pretty cunt of yours?”

“H-Hyunjae, it’s Hyunjae! Please let me cum-” You whine.

“That’s a good girl. Now cum for us won’t you?”

The second the ghost face behind you says this, knot in your stomach snaps in two. Making you see stars as your cunt tightens around Hyunjae’s cock.

“H-holy shit, she’s gripping my cock. Gonna cu- fuck!” Hyunjae pushes your hips down, bottoming out his length in you as he fills you up to the brim.

Younghoon follows close as his hips stutter. His thrusts slowing down and becoming sloppy as he empties himself inside your ass.

All three of you take a breather for a moment before you lift Hyunjae’s mask off. His sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead while his cheeks glow a blushing pink.

“What gave it away sweetheart?” He smiles at you.

“Between the two of you, you’re the one who can’t resist sucking my tits whenever they’re in front of your face-” You chuckle.

“Wait, seriously?” Younghoon huffs as he lifts his mask.

“Can’t help myself-” Hyunjae replies. “Plus, our princess is way too smart.” He strokes your cheek before pulling you down for a kiss.

“Well, if that’s the case-” Younghoon pulls you back up, pressing your back against his chest as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck.

“Why don’t we blindfold you next time? Maybe even give you noise cancelling earphones? That way you can’t even tell who’s fucking you...”

He nips your earlobe making you moan. He moves his lips close to your ear, whispering something only the two of you could hear,

“…And maybe bring a friend of ours to join, hm? What do you say?”

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liesmyth · 7 days

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I'm always thinking about how G— was an engineer. A damn good one: the sole engineer of the cryo project, good enough that of all the ten billion, the FTL project chose him to inspect their work, back when the project was still a pipe dream. He was a man from an immigrant family in an underprivileged area who became arguably the world's best engineer, which is impressive in its own right, but it gets me thinking... Pre-Resurrection, John says they can't grow food on Mars (and for all John's unreliability, that's pretty believable, given that the high perchlorate concentration in Martian soil is one of the big obstacles to carrying out a sustained Mars mission), and as silly as this might sound, the engineer and scientist divide is real, and of all the nerds that John resurrected, I can't imagine it was the artist or the contract lawyer or the medical and chemistry experts that made the Mars installation viable. Gideon made a House out of it, and one that accepts recruits from across the Dominican system! "Saint of Duty" is said to fit him, evident in his loyalty and commitment to the Cohort and fighting the Resurrection Beasts, but I have to wonder, how much of that was his commitment to making shit work? I can't shake the image of a couple million people awaking to a ruined world, and someone had to get the other Houses settled, figure out spacecraft and space habitats using what little supplies they have left, and what better candidate for that than the man who canonically engineered spacecraft twice?

ANON I love this so much. You're SO right, and you put into words something about G1deon and John's shared background that I've tried to articulate for a while. In the very first chapter, John says, "It wasn’t that they didn’t have the money for a bigger team; we were simply the only ones capable of what they were asking."

This was an incredibly elite team. They were a brilliant bunch of hyperspecialised nerds. And, like, among John's squad, A- and M- and everyone else started out as colleagues — very smart people he probably met in academic circles, where being smart was kind of a prerequisite. It was their research that brought them together to begin with.

G1deon, though! He was John's friend growing up. John knew his grandparents. They spotted each other spare changes for snacks!! Then John went on to Dilworth, then to university and then overseas, and G1deon had his own (probably different) academic path, and maybe they only stayed vaguely in touch, but when it was time to look for an engineer that could help them build spaceships constructed to provide life support to the whole of humanity for centuries — and G1deon was the guy for that.

The fact that two boys from similar underprivileged backgrounds individually made huge breakthroughs in their chosen fields, and got to work together on a project that was meant to save the world... I bet at the time it felt like a miraculous coincidence. I think they thought, if they'd made it that far, that they could do anything.

(yet another layer to the tragedy of what happened etc etc. G1deon torn between John and P—. John stopping G1deon's heart)

Thank you so much for all your thoughts about the Mars space installation, also — I wonder how long there was between Mars becoming the Second House (founded by G1deon! he and Pyrrha did the bulk of the work!) and the institution of the Third House, which doesn't have a named founder and might very well have been a shared project built on the blueprint of what G1deon set up. "the man who canonically engineered spacecraft twice" — my god I love this so much. It's G1deon emo hours today

#this ask PUNCHED ME IN THE GUTS ty for my life #g1deon #gideon the first #tlt thoughts #ntn #ask #anonymous #tlt #tlt meta #ONE THING though is that I don't think we're meant to interpret G1deon as being from an immigrant family but rather native #it's not spelled out in the books so it's all headcanons #but pasifika G— is where I'm at personally

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shima-draws · 7 months

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Tell us about the AU! I know you want to!!

WAUGHHH. AGHHH. OKAY. OKAY SO. I've been watching one of my favorite content creators play through the DLC. Early on in the playthrough he was tossing around theories and said "Maybe KIERAN is Ogerpon??" and that gave me a BRILLIANT THOUGHT.

Ogerpon Kieran AU.......

I've already thought of a very long and complex backstory for this LOL but to simplify it. Before the ogre and its human companion came to Kitakami, said companion was actually living a very happy life with his child. However, they were caught up in the midst of a great war that ended up taking the child's life. The man was so overcome with grief that it summoned a great being (I'm thinking Xerneas), who blessed his dead child with new life. And that child was reborn as Ogerpon!! So kinda like how children who get lost in the woods and die are reborn as Phantump.

Fast forward to many many years later. A long chain of events leads to Carmine's grandfather's...father (so, her great-grandpa?) meeting Ogerpon and vowing to make it a new mask, a mystical and powerful mask that could grant wishes. Sadly, Carmine's great-grandpa wasn't able to complete the mask before he died. This project was eventually picked up by Carmine's father (and I have a whole other thing about him but I'm not gonna get into it right now lol). Carmine's father forms a very close bond with Ogerpon as he continues to gather materials to finish the wish mask. He expresses his desire for Ogerpon to finally be able to walk among the villagers with its name cleared, and for Ogerpon to meet his only daughter. He leaves for a journey to find the last material for the mask...and never returns 😔

Carmine's grandfather has a whole complex about the wish mask, but after seeing both his father and his son dedicate so much time and care into completing it, he takes the last material, imbued with the hopes and dreams of his family, and finally finishes the mask. When he presents it to Ogerpon, Ogerpon dons the mask and its wish is granted...it becomes human :") So it becomes Kieran, basically!! Kieran's wish was to be able to say thank you to all of the generations of mask makers that had helped him, and. To be part of their family 🥺 What he doesn't know is that his wish to be human stems from the fact that he already was human, once. But he doesn't remember his life before he was reborn as a Pokemon.

So, Carmine's grandfather happily accepts Kieran and his desire, and takes him home to live with him and Carmine. Note that Kieran is probably around 5-6 at the time, so he's BABY. And Carmine is only about a year or two older. She isn't sure what to think about suddenly getting a new brother, but she's happy to have someone to boss around lmao.

And once a year, during the festival of masks, Kieran lets his facade fall and wanders around as Ogerpon again. Just to keep in touch with his roots haha

So obviously with Kieran being Ogerpon the events of the DLC will play out differently than canon. Kieran slyly compliments the ogre in front of the player and mentions that maybe it's just misunderstood. He's been trying for a while to change the villagers' minds about what happened to him and the Loyal Three all those years ago, but it hasn't been going...too well lol. So when the player shows up, and things start to shift, Kieran gets really excited bc he realizes he finally might be able to clear his name :")

Is this AU silly and dumb as hell? Yes. Does it not really make sense with canon and is full of plot holes? Yes. Am I brainrotting over it anyway? Also yes.

Take a little edit I did of Kieran's official art to fit what I had in mind for the AU ;) I wanted to draw it but I'm at work rn lmao RIP

ALSO LITTLE DOODLE OF THE BOY

ALSO bc of Ogerpon's original gender Kieran probably goes by he/they pronouns in the AU

#Listen I know this AU is stupid as hell but it means SO much to me #Shima answers questions #Pokemon #The Teal Mask #Pokemon Kieran #Pokemon Carmine #Ogerpon #Kieranpon AU #Shima's AUs #I'm brainrotting SO hard. HELP #Long post

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eveningepiphany · 8 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 3

my masterlist!

part one and part two!

summary: harry goes over to y/ns hotel for a good old room service dinner, also getting a little tipsy on wine, while starting to blur some lines. and it’s not long before things are no longer just between the two of them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol, getting a lil wine drunk, paparazzi, being confused on if you’re falling in love or just really good friends.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally have this written for you all! i’ve had some pretty bad writers block, hence the delay in getting it to you, but thank you so much again for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

———

There’s a certain type of attatchment that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s when things start to flourish. Maybe with a hobby, a passion, or a new found person. One your brain decides to put all its focus and interest on, to the point it’s all consuming.

This one gets stuck to you like glue. Hard to shake in the sense of no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it’s all you can think about.

Losing yourself in daydreams of something or someone without even realising, until you’re reaching for anything that will bring you closer to filling that need.

That’s exactly what’s leading you to be reaching for your phone at any given point of the day.

You imagine many perceive it to be a permanent growth on your person. But you can hardly help it. Texting is a simple way to reach someone. Feel connected.

So, safe to say you’ve messaged Harry more than your own family over the course of this trip.

You’ve become attached. To Harry Styles. Again…?

Of course, being a huge fan it’s easy to say you should probably already be accustomed to this, given your level of obsession.

But this is a whole other ball game. One that is becoming like an internal battle. Your already unhealthy and predisposed infatuation paired with now a real physical connection is enough to render you useless.

You reach for your phone. Text him, your brain begs. You consider. No, stop being clingy you loser, your brain rolls her metaphorical eyes. You place the phone down. Stare at a wall. Think about him. Rinse, repeat.

Not normal, you don’t think.

However, you search for some kind of justification. That you’re just good friends, and all that shit. It’s normal to miss someone you’re friends with.

If he considers you as that.

Which you would hope since you’ve been texting him enough it would be concerning if he saw you as just some mutual of his.

You’re also sitting in a cafe, unfortunately without him right now. Eating a croissant wishing that he were here. Allowing your gaze to linger on the chair across from yourself, imagining his solid frame filling up the empty space. What he would do if you stood up and ran a hand through his hair, maybe lent down a little so you could just—

The ring of the bell atop their entrance chimes and drags you out if your dangerous and spiralling thoughts. And for some reason get excited like you’ve somehow manifested this man to walk through the cafe door by thinking of him.

Feeling silly at the nag of disappointment in your stomach as you see an ordinary bloke saunter over to the till.

Maybe one you would check out, or emit some kind of interest in before you properly met Harry. You would feel disloyal now. Like the parasocial relationship has entered an entirely new level of psychotic.

If it’s still parasocial, that is. Or if now you’re just simply a girl with very cloudy and mixed feelings about a very beautiful man.

You audibly sigh out. Eating the final bite of your admittedly delicious croissant and picking up your phone.

You type out a message, sending it before you can even think it.

I’m in a cafe right now without you and you’ve honestly ruined them for me. I miss you and your free cups of tea.

Without me? Rude.

You laugh at his quip, watching as the little bubble pops back up indicating he’s typing.

I’m out right now, but if you’re not busy later we can do something? Go out or I can come over to yours.

You pluck mindlessly at your bottom lip with your teeth, how could you say no to that?

You stress over it either way.

well, you’re very welcome to come over to my hotel room. we can order room service if you want?

To this he texts back an agreement, seemingly keen. And you realise immediately you have to tidy your room before he comes over.

You swing him the location of where you’re staying, including your room and floor number.

Thank you love, ill be there in like 3 hours say? If that works for you.

At that, you stand, because who are you if not over-prepared. And it was time to go make sure your room didn’t like a war had been waged in it when he came over for the first time.

Cant be having a bad impression, you figured.

———

You did in fact rush back to your hotel complex. Not even stopping a crepe stall you passed by, which had to be a first for you. You clean the place until it appears well-kept at the least.

And once you’re finished, you easily fall back into overthinking the whole thing. So excited, yet getting those anxious jitters like a caffeine addict 12 hours no coffee.

Which is why you decide to busy yourself with an afternoon shower. And at the time you’d still had over an hour to go.

You take of course longer than you intended, and shortly after you come out there’s a knock at your door, easily making you jump as you tug a shirt over your head. Regretting the last minute decision for a shower since now you have wet hair and probably look like a right mess.

But it’s not like you can leave him out there while you go blow dry your hair, so you rush over to the door, and tug it open.

His brows shoot up, and a smile slowly blooms on his face as he takes in your appearance.

Your hair is still near dripping, and you stand in bike shorts and a loose tshirt. The most casual he’s ever seen you. Which he loved the look on you more than he admits to himself.

“Hi darling,” he smirks, a warm feeling settling over him as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, Harry.” You stand for a few moments longer, finally shuflling out of his way to let him through the door. He is adorning a white shirt and has the cutest little bandana around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, gesturing him inside, “I was drastically overestimating how long it would take me to shower… hence why im in this state.”

He pulls a hand from behind his back, a cup being presented to you.

“Don’t be silly, y’not in a state at all.”

“You’re joking—“ You gently take the cup from his ringed hands, “Harry!”

“M’sorry, m’sorry. I saw a coffee van on the way and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get one for you?”

“No, but I did have a little sip of yours.” He confesses with a quiet laugh. But he quickly busies himself with your room, padding around and peeking out the balcony window.

You take a sip, watching him examine your space. Grateful you cleaned it.

He asks you a few questions about random things in your room, and you settle yourself on the foot of your bed, cross-legged.

You didn’t really think about the lack of seating in your one man room. But this hardly bothers Harry, since he’s scoped up the room service menu from wherever he found it, and sat next to you.

“Alright… what d’we have.” He talks to himself, opening up the menu and scanning over the foods.

You discuss the options, settling on a pizza and pasta to share, because, well, you’re in Italy.

The night progresses easily as time always seems to do when you’re together, and you fake fight over the best kind of pasta sauce. But he lets you have to last slice of pizza so peace is made shortly after.

“Should we order a wine or something? T’wash the pasta down.” He suggests as the sun begins setting.

“Why not, I won’t say no to some wine.”

That gets ordered to your door, and you go from the foot of the bed to lazing at the head of it. Sipping on wine and recounting old stories, or discussing stupid topics.

“Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?” You swirl your glass around, eyes shifting to look at his side profile as he gazes at your roof.

His cute nose outlined by the warm light off the lamp, which you flicked on in the corner after it got dark.

He bursts out into a laugh, “what kind of question is that?”

“I feel like it indicates the sort of person someone is.” You shrug, smiling.

“What like it gives you an intel on my personality?”

“Something like that.” You nod, “and decides if we have to stop being friends, if you answer the wrong one.”

He grins, “Well, maybe tell me which one to pick so we don’t have to do that.”

“Awh, so you don’t want to stop being friends?” You coo, still staring at him, watching as his eyes flick from the roof over to you.

“Of course not, who else am I meant to go on cafe dates with.” He laughs.

You’re both teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and it’s evident in the way you’re both talking to one another. Borderline flirting, probably a more fitting way to describe it.

“True, because I’d be very hard to replace.” You snort with sarcasm, taking the another sip of wine.

“You would be! I love our little dates.” He smiles, the second time he’s dropped the word date in the last minute.

You’ve scooted closer to one another somehow. Shoulder to shoulder as you steal glances of his beautiful face. Maybe this was subconscious, or on purpose. But you’re drawn to him like a magnet.

“So do I…” You flush.

“I’m a little tipsy.” You clarify, breaking the searing eye contact and looking at the near-empty glass in your hand. A fourth refill would easily tip you over the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Wine gone to y’head too?”

“Mhm, and I have a track record of poor decision making when I have too much of it.” You recall the plenty of times you did the stupidest shit just because you were wine drunk. Hoping that does not happen tonight.

“Might have to see it one day.”

“One day…” you agree, but you realise that you’re not really in Italy for much longer. You have about a week and a half left now.

“I… Harry,” you turn your body to face him, and he sits up a little, noticing the almost serious tone to your voice.

“I’m leaving soon.” You blurt it out, because it’s the only topic of conversation you’ve both been steering clear of. The thing neither of you want to address because eventually this won’t be easy to do. Who knows how many miles could get out between you.

And it almost hurts you to admit yourself because… where exactly does that leave you both?

Does your contact end when you leave Italy? Do you become people who occasionally text on a bi-monthly basis?

He draws a breath, “So am I.”

You let out your own tortured sigh, turning to pop your glass on the beside table and then lean your head onto his shoulder.

Your heart jumps at the contact, and somewhere in your brain, sober Y/N lets out a gasp, because she would never have the balls to do that.

So the wine maybe was a great idea…?

He wraps an arm around your back, “I go back to London after this.”

“Second week of August as well?” You pray it’s not earlier than the start of the month, since tomorrow is literally the 1st.

“Yea, the 13th.” He nods and it’s the only tiny shred of relief you’re getting from all this. That there’s still time left.

“I fly out on the 12th.” You say quietly.

But there’s a small silence that consumes you both for the first time since you met. Because you’re kind of exasperated for options right now. What do you say to someone who is going to inevitably slip from your grip.

You shake your head at nothing in particular, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, since words really weren’t going to cut it.

Somewhere in his muddled brain he notes this is the second time you’ve ever initiated a hug. And he leans into it, the arm he had around your back tugging you infinitely closer.

Your cheek is pressed to his neck, and you swear you feel his lips ghosting over the top of your head.

Slowly, you pull back. And he watches you with sharp green eyes. You hold that gaze, until he’s the one that breaks it. Stifling a groan with his hand, covering his face.

You look at him quizzically.

“I like this more than I probably should.” He gestures now between the two of you.

You chuckle, a tiny flutter in your stomach announcing it’s presence.

“So we’re making the most of the time left in Italy, then?” You put forward, ready to nearly wipe your schedule clean for the man.

Which, who could blame you?

“What are y’doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, if you’re the one asking.” You laugh, and he smiles wide at your comment.

“Oh, is that so darling?”

You roll your eyes in attempt to be convincing, “of course, you always buy me tea so…”

“Well, that decides we’re going to another cafe I suppose.” His hand reaches for his phone strewn on the quilt somewhere, pulling up google maps to find some nearby cafes.

You perch your head back onto his shoulder to watch him scroll through the options. He stumbles on a beautiful looking one, less than a 10 minute walk away. He looks to see if you approve.

He peers down to where you rest on his frame, smiling unwillingly at the sight of you. Your own eyes trailing up to meet his.

And he swears they linger on his lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Mh, what d’ya think.” He gets out, voice suddenly several octaves lower. Almost gravelly.

You almost audibly gulp at the sound of him. Hyperaware of his existence right now, you could nearly zone out thinking about the strength of his arm muscle that’s right now pressed against you.

“Yea… yea that looks amazing. And tomorrow, what time?” Your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“How about 1, since you’re probably gonna wanna sleep in a bit.” He suggests, free hand pushing his curls from his eyes.

The way he knows you’re probably going to want to sleep in. God.

“I’m down.” (Bad)

A smile erupts over your face, and you almost forget that the clock is still ticking. That you only have so long left here.

Which ‘almost forgetting’ isn’t enough to stifle the urge to use it as some kind of yolo shit. Because that is unbelievably strong. Like why not just invite him to stay the night?

Maybe another glass of wine and you can gaslight yourself into cuddling him and just falling asleep. He wouldnt leave unless he had to, so it’s an almost flawless plan.

———

The plan infact, was flawless.

To say the least, he slept at yours. In your bed.

I mean you don’t really remember it, since you talked into the early hours of the morning and drank some more alcohol to really top it all off.

You woke up under the covers, still clutching onto Harrys side.

He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, seemingly unbothered by the fact your head had taken residency on his chest.

You take the initiative to glance at the time in the upper-right corner of his phone, a little shocked when it reads 11:47am.

You do groan at the morning light streaming in the windows immediately after seeing the time though.

“G’morning. D’ya have a headache?” He asks with what you can only assume is the end of his morning voice. Which although just a taste, is enough to send you spiralling.

It’s also around now you realise he’s stripped down into boxers— still clad in his white shirt. What the fuck!

You struggle to form a coherent response.

“Morning. A little.” Your voice comes out as a hum.

Somehow, considering you’re cuddling him right now and you literally just slept in the same bed all night, both of you outwardly are quite relaxed about it.

Nothing is awkward. It feels lovely.

“I want a croissant so bad.” You huff, sitting up, stomach growling like as if you hadn’t eaten in a whole 24 hours.

“So, you’re the kind of person that’s hungry immediately after they wake up?” He laughs, hand coming to push the locks of your bed hair out of your face.

Outside of the sheer domesticity of that (which makes you literally have heart palpitations), your hair is a proper train wreck.

The humidity in Italy has made it horrific.

“I guess I am right now?” You reply to his previous ask, combing your fingers through the locks.

“Jesus Christ.” You curse at its uncooperativeness.

“Y’know that episode of friends where Monica complains about how the humidity fucks her hair, she was so right.”

“I love friends.” He immediately gasps, nearly jolting upright in excitement.

You laugh at his enthusiastic reaction, noting that you have to somehow find time over the next week to watch an episode or two with him.

“And if it’s any consolation, I think your hair looks great.”

“Yea well, it’s not like you’d really be able to relate to the frizzy hair. Since yours look so perfect all the time.” You joke.

This evokes a genuine flush on his face, “Alright, Y/N, calm it down.”

He’s laughing but you swear he actually looks a little flustered. Without the wine as a confidence booster, he seemed like suddenly he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

Unbelievable to you since he probably gets that many a day from strangers on the street.

“I, am going to get up and get ready then, so we can go out and eat.” You state, excited to be seemingly spending the majority of the day with him.

He holds back the urge to beg you to stay in bed with him, and says something nonchalant as if he doesn’t mind you getting up. But when you pad off to the bathroom he stares at your now empty space. And immediately shivers at the lack of your body warmth, despite the already warm humid weather.

After a few trips in and out of the bathroom you come out looking beautiful. And he has to get himself up and ready to go in attempt to not overthink it.

You craved his closeness the whole time it took you to prepare for the day. Every few minutes you’d get this almost overpowering urge to just go out there and throw yourself back into his arms.

It’s borderline pathetic. But now you’ve had him in your bed, his strong arms coddled around you, it’s very hard to not to be just that. His physical presence is perfect and comforting. You’re attached to that as much as any other aspect of him.

He puts on his pants, which were folded neatly on his own bedside table, plucking out the car keys in his pocket, “Im gonna nick down to my rental car, because I have an extra button up in there, so I’ll wear that out.”

He comes back and changes into said white button up, stripping his worn shirt off and leaving it somewhere.

Just like that, you’re ready to go, and you both decide to walk the short way there. It was too nice a morning to not.

The whole walk you’re chatting away as usual. But it’s paired with this newfound physical aspect. The way you so obviously want to be close it hurts.

Yet somehow you both act like it’s nothing. That the brushes of hands and shoulder as you’re in step beside each other is a simple coincidence.

And that when you get breakfast, the two croissants and shared cookie is just a friendly thing. In your head you’re even playing off the touching all throughout breakfast.

Which sounds dirty— but just the little conversational touches. Like a hand reaching out to touch a forearm in laughter, acting as if it adds something important to the moment being shared.

Or that somehow when you leave the cafe, with two takeaway cups of tea, the hands that end up interlinked softly between the two of you is just…

Well… who even knows anymore?

Because you’re walking through italy beside Harry— who is talking about his favourite kind of playground equipment, regardless of if he’s a near thirty year old man— all while holding your hand.

And to take a moment, because it’s important, his hands are everything they’re talked up to be. Littered with chunky rings and calloused fingertips from the years of guitar playing. Yet contrasted by his soft palms, which cups yours with this delicateness it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You also pray that your own hand isn’t sweating profusely in his grasp, because you wouldn’t put a clammy hand past yourself. The already humid weather paired with your anxiety surrounding this whole situation is quite literally the match made in hell.

Nothing about this can be passed off as casual to your brain anymore. You’re literally about to implode.

But you strive to hide it. So you solider on.

“I’m a seesaw girl okay. Hear me out—“

“No, I can totally see that!” He interjects, and you chuckle at his quick agreement to your statement.

“Right? They are so much fun. And even though I nearly took a tooth out playing on one when I was 7, I can still recognise they are superior.”

To that he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours, “I mean I love that. I’m probably a swing person, I feel like no matter the age I will always be down for it.”

You can agree that a swing is a solid second favourite for you. And as you talk about that point with him, you don’t realise you’ve walked the whole ‘scenic’ route back to your hotel until you turn the corner and the entrance is around the corner ahead. And the way you went usually takes an extra 20 minutes.

It went so fast.

“Are you gonna head off or… come back up with me?” You ask gingerly, the hand not interlaced with his fiddling with the fabric of your clothing.

“Not sick of m’yet?”

“Never…” You shake your head, smiling as he gleams at your answer.

“M’flattered. The feelings mutual love,” he chuckles, “However I do have to go remind my family I’m alive. But it’ll only take about a day until they’re pleased for me to ditch them.”

Gently runs his thumb over your knuckles, whether it be subconsciously or not, “So tomorrow night ill come back over to yours for dinner if you y’want?”

You smile, a little sappy over the way he’s working a plan out like you’re both teenagers, “Yea, thats perfect, and we can try something else off the menu.”

“Maybe, if you want,” he begins carefully, “after that you can come over to where we’re staying. Meet my mum and sister. They’ll love you.”

Now you’re nearly bursting at the seems, “Oh, I would love that, H!”

“Okay, it’s a plan then.” He agrees, pulling his keys from his pocket.

You bid your farewells for the night, unlinking hands and being left with a tingling sensation in it, one that you wonder if he’s also getting.

You go to your hotel room and feel full with joy.

He is all too sweet for this world. And you’re a little obsessed.

———

Although Italy being in Italy feels like being in a bubble, and like you’re so far away from the real world, it is unfortunately a purely mental one.

And there’s one thing about a headspace like that, and it’s just how quickly it can be popped.

At midnight that night a notification pops up on your phone, one that when you open, you have to physically put your phone down.

harryflorals:

what do i even caption this post because is that who i think it is or am i officially delusional? “HARRY WITH A FAN FROM THE LAST SHOW, HOLDING HANDS IN ITALY!” correct me if I’m wrong YALL idek anymore.

And this time, there’s no grain saving your ass. Because this was taken on what, quality wise, looks like a digital camera.

Which has made it so painstakingly obvious that it’s you. And you don’t even remember it being taken?

It was when you were walking back from the cafe, holding hands probably talking about fucking seesaws.

And everyone has caught on fast, because in the comments it’s an all out frenzy.

So, cats officially out of the bag.

———

y’all can expect a part four considering i lowkey left this on a cliffhanger 😝 so its on its way my loves

update: next part, PART 4!

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #hslot #love on tour #i just love finalshowrry #love u too #hopefully part four doesn’t take me also two weeks to write HAHA

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larkspurglove · 1 month

Text

OH MY GODDD THE NEW TRAILBLAZE MISSION IT’S SO GOOD BUT ALSO NONE OF MY THOUGHTS ARE COHERENT AAAAA

Major spoilers for 2.1 ahead!!!!

So first off to the people that voted for Aventurine and Sunday in this poll how does it feel to be right?

ANYWAY THAT WHOLE ENDING WAS FUCKING INSANEEEE, Aventurine walking INTO the Nihility????? And he might not ever come back???? Acheron showing off the true extent of her emanator powers?????? Gallagher being the twist villain and also somehow in control of Something Unto Death???? What the fuck?!

My brain is a mess right now I’m just rotating all of the story in my brain and a hundred miles a minute. The next stuff is just going to be me word vomiting my reaction to stuff in a vaguely chronological order.

First off I LOVEEE how Aventurine-focused the Trailblaze mission was. I was kind of assuming it would be a 50/50 split between focusing on Acheron and focusing on Aventurine but it seems like they’re saving Acheron’s backstory for 2.2 or 2.3.

The little appearance of Boothill??? And how he immediately threatens violence?????? Just a silly guy I can’t wait for him in 2.2 I wanna see them fight. Also I wonder if Constance is making empty promises because it’s possible.

Back to Aventurine, DAMNNN I knew his backstory would be tragic but it’s even more gut wrenching than I expected. The reference in his achievements too??? ‘What do you want Sibyl?’ ‘I want to die.’ THE PROGRESSION FROM AVENTURINE STICKING WITH THIS UNTIL THE END WHERE EVEN THOUGH HE COULD POSSIBLY DIE FOR REAL YET HE DECIDES FO CONTINUE FORWARD BECAUSE EVEN IF WE’RE BORN TO DIE THERE’S A POINT IN LIVING LIFE AND PREPARING FOR THAT INEVITABILITY???? OH MY GOD.

Sunday’s also a scary dude. Maybe being an emanator does that to people but when he did that Harmony mindfuckery on Aventurine I was almost certain that he was going to die because of that. I was also SO pissed at Ratio for selling Aventurine out only to learn they were actually double crossing SUNDAY was insane. I’m glad he finally got to be angry about Robin’s death towards the end though, most of the downtime between 2.0 and 2.1 has been me wondering ‘man his sister just died why doesn’t he feel more distressed.’

Ngl I’m probably gonna dedicate a whole post to Aventurine in this update because 90% of the time I was playing the quest I was either thirsting over him, internally sobbing for him, thinking he was gonna die, or waiting to get back to his POV.

Gallagher is one hell of an enigma because Sunday implies that he’s made up of different ‘aspects’ of each Family member who’s died over however long the dreamscape deaths have been happening, yet he has a past with Siobhan and apparently knew Mikhail??? Like what the fuck????? How long has this been going on????

(Edit: so the use of ‘enigma’ was NOT a pun, when I played the trailblaze quest someone goofed up and forgot to add the line where Sunday calls Gallagher a follower of The Enigmata. Yeah that’s a pretty big lore drop to forget to add.)

I do wish it was foreshadowed slightly better though because the most we get is him being very vaguely sad about his past and also like two people going ‘who the hell is Gallagher.’

One thing I didn’t expect to happen was for a ‘Sam is Firefly’ reveal. Like I had seen the leaks before (not out of my own will sadly) and kind of expected for it to be a 2.2 reveal. Either way yayyyy Firefly is alive!!!

I’m sad that we didn’t really have an Acheron and Welt team up, or at least that we didn’t see more of it. It was kind of hyped up to be a whole B-plot but turned out to only be a few scenes. I’m not complaining because we get a little teeny bit of Welt characterisation but I’m still sad.

I like how Sparkle kind of just shows up to either be a nuisance or a conveniently timed piece to move the plot forward. It’s very fitting with being a Masked Fool.

There’s a lot more I want to scream about but it’s all Aventurine related and I’m gonna save it for its own dedicated post.

2.1 is so fucking good 2.2 and 2.3 better stick the landing.

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ker0senebunny · 2 years

Text

you've always had me✫*ﾟ･ﾟ(walking on a string ii)

steve harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader

part one

summary: steve misses reader a whole lot (dustin smacked some sense into him). now, how does he win her back? (angst, fluff, smut)

warnings: afab!fem!reader, language, angst, fluff, smut (18+), UNPROTECTED SEX (pls remember to practice safe sex!!), kinda soft!dom steve? but no use of sir or daddy etc, apology sex, loss of virginity, PRAISE so much praise, oral (f!recieving), fingering, p in v sex, use of pet names, size kink (for like one second), dirty talk, no use of y/n, a little bit of roughness at the end (but not degredation or anything like that!! cheerleader!reader likes to be called pretty and good while she's getting railed), all characters are 18+, discussion of insecurities, soft tummy steve rights, NOT BETA'D (seriously if anybody wants to, pls shoot me a private message!)

word count: 6,187 (wowza! was not expecting that)

notes: THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS WTF!! when i published walking on a string, i had about 30 followers so thank you so so much for keeping up with my silly little writings. i'll do a little celebration party later - i’m thinking something along the lines of blurbs from a prompt list, so send in asks! without further ado, here's the second part! seriously, thank you all for all the love you've been giving me. it really keeps me motivated to write! i hope you all enjoy this part before i start my taylor swift trilogy and ballerina!reader oneshot!

p.s. i also got a couple of asks that have perhaps inspired a part three (!!!) in the adventures of steve and his cheerleader, so thank you to the anons who sent those in! lmk if you guys would be interested in that xoxo

the things you said are hanging in the middle of my mind, tonight.

i can’t turn them off.

you hadn’t been to family video in three weeks and steve desperately missed you.

winter had arrived in hawkins, bringing with it shorter days and longer restless nights. a tangy cold ran through the air, slipping under the door of the video store and creating a stupid fucking draft. steve watched the door anxiously as the stale air burned his nose. robin snorted. “dude, she’s not coming in,” she said. he huffed out a quiet “shut it, buckley” in response, keeping his eyes trained on the door. she rolled her eyes. “it’s your funeral, dingus.”

now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen you around town either. he never saw your sweet face at the grocery store. or in the park where sometimes, he'd catch you lying on a blanket, enjoying the pre-winter breeze and blasting duran duran on your walkman's tinny headphones. hell, he even went to the library to seek you out. but it seemed that you had just plain disappeared from his life.

only his life.

steve asked anybody who came into family video if they knew where you were; they always made some offhanded comment about seeing you at a party or at your favorite boutique. the one you always got your little low cut blouses from, where trina denman had made you cry once and so he chewed her out the next time she came in to rent a movie -- pretty in pink. your movie.

"steve, you are a dipshit."

steve rolled his eyes and turned his gaze away from the door to see dustin standing in front of the family video counter.

"tell me something i don't know, henderson."

dustin rolled his eyes right back before hopping over the counter to get into steve's personal space.

"hey! man, what the hell are you-"

"apologize to her."

steve was startled at dustin's sudden seriousness. he'd only ever seen the kid get serious about upside down stuff or d&d. or, when he talked about you. he knew that you two really got along when he introduced you to all of the kids, but your bond with dustin ran deeper. you both often met at the old creek to go look at the wildlife there. you taught him about the flowers and the moss that surrounded you both, palming crisp bark and teaching him to appreciate the world around him, inadvertently worming your way into steve's heart even more as dustin regaled him of these tales.

"dustin, she doesn't want anything to do with me."

"because you haven't apologized yet. jesus christ, steve. it's like talking to a toddler. i swear." robin let out a sharp cackle from where she was eavesdropping. steve flipped her off.

dustin sighed. he just wanted to see you and steve happy. he snapped his fingers in front of steve's face to get his attention.

"i'm not a fucking dog."

"i'd argue against that." dustin chose his next words carefully: "whatever you do next has to matter more to her than anything you’ve ever done before."

i'm in a twisted web,

and i can't pull my head from it.

that first day when you came in was one of the best days of steve's life. he couldn’t believe that you, the golden girl, were speaking to him with such softness. but then, the thoughts he tried to cram away constantly invaded his mind, clouding whatever emerging feelings he felt for you. steve decided for himself that you were playing a game - making him the fool. and so he decided on revenge - playing you right back. poking out his tongue whenever he looked you up and down (which was quite a common occurrence). letting you cuddle into him whenever the two of you were seated even remotely close to one another (this was definitely not for his benefit as well). posing for pictures that you’d take with your polaroid camera that was “so annoying” to him (he’d never tell you that the picture robin took of the two of you, your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lives in his wallet - next to the first of your little notes).

steve liked to take his time with things and he knew you needed space, but three weeks was a long time, right? it was too long of a time for you to have not pranced into family video, excited to show steve your newest purchase. too long of a time for him to go without smelling your peach shampoo on his sweater after you’ve fallen asleep during one of your many viewings of pretty in pink. he missed the sting of your manicured nails on his forearm when you were so excited to tell him about a new trick that you landed, that you physically glimmered. he realized with a start that he missed your silly notes and the mirth in your eyes as you laughed at a dumb pun he made. he missed how you would light up even more than usual whenever one of the kids said hi to you outside of one of their hangouts that they'd taken to inviting you to. he missed you.

and he fucking hated himself for it. he felt stupid, used, and above all -- guilty. why would he feel guilty if he saved himself from whatever heartache you could bring him? your teary face flashed in his mind.

oh.

because you hadn't been trying to use him -- you actually liked him. a lot.

and he definitely was a little bit (a lot) in love with you.

and he only just figured it out.

robin watched her best friend as his face changed. she snapped her gum in her mouth before plunking down on the stool next to him. "i smell wood burning," she said, "what are you thinking about?"

steve turned to her.

"i fucked up."

i hang my head

and feel the oxygen drain.

agonizing hours passed as he thought about what to say to you. he almost missed the tinkle of the bell above the door, letting him know that there was a new customer in the store. from where he sat, all he could see where white sneakers. his eyes snapped to the top of the doorway, and he shrank in disappointment. walking through the door was chrissy cunningham, not you. she was holding pretty in pink, no doubt to bring it to you to cheer you up.

so, it seemed that you were just hellbent on avoiding him.

chrissy gave him a polite smile as she brought it to the counter. steve cleared his throat. she nodded at him in greeting. robin stood a little further back, entranced by everything in front of her (did she sort of want her best friend to get punched by chrissy cunningham? …yes).

steve handed chrissy her change and just as she left, he jolted to his feet.

“wait!” he said, as if the words couldn’t wait inside his mouth any longer. she hesitated, already knowing what he was going to ask.

“how is she?” he said, eyes honest as he searched chrissy for an answer.

she set her mouth in a grim line as she shook her head at him.

“steve, i’m not going to lie to you. she’s really hurt.” steve felt his mouth dry up instantly.

“would she even want to see me?”

chrissy sighed exasperatedly and gave him a shrug before looking at his wounded face. for however much he was hurting, she knew you were hurting way worse. she slammed her hands on the family video countertop, mustering up as much of a threatening tone as she could, pushing herself to the tips of her toes to look steve directly in the eye.

“i have never known someone as kind or genuine as her,” the tiny girl said very seriously, “so you better fucking fix this harrington, because even though you’re a dickhead for what you did, i know you care about her. and for some reason, she cares about you too. probably too much.” steve opened his mouth to reply but chrissy jammed her pointer finger into his chest. “fucking. fix. it,” she said through gritted teeth before waving to robin and swaying out the door.

you're never running out of ways

to worm your way back in.

the past few weeks have been hellish for you, to say the least. getting not only rejected but belittled by steve harrington, the boy you…love? yeah, love would be the best way to put it. you'd pined after that idiot since freshman year, your feelings only intensifying with time and your prolonged visits to family video. those same visits evolved into impromptu sleepovers due to your absent parents, nights out when the local carnival was in town, watching out for the kids on halloween.

you pretended to be fine in front of your friends, a group made up of jocks and the cheer team. you knew that lucas sinclair, one of the new basketball players, was friends with steve. so you avoided him as much as possible, but that didn’t help. everywhere you went, you felt like steve was following you. seeing the people he loved (because he obviously didn’t love you) caused the rift within you, one searing with pain and self-loathing, to deepen.

there was less of a pep in your step. your gentle attitude remained, but you were more melancholic than anyone had ever seen you. sure, you were always willing to lend a hand or a listening ear, but as soon as you were left with your own thoughts, it seemed like a shade had passed over your demeanor.

you hadn’t let anybody into your room since the pep rally, sinking into a cocoon made of your duvet and throw pillows for hours on end. your walkman was always pumped up on full volume. crumpled tissues blanketed virtually every surface - a palpable reminder of his words to you that continued to hang in your mind. you tried to block them out - to block him out - but steve had become so engrained within your daily routine without you even noticing.

his yellow sweatshirt lay on your desk chair, directly in your line of sight, which didn’t help with your attempts to wallow and just get it over with.

you didn’t even let chrissy in to talk to you - she had to resort to seeing you in public or talking over the phone. your room was your safe space: your zone away from anything (or anyone) else but you.

which made steve’s raucous entrance at 2 am all the more unwelcome.

anyone who knows what love is will understand;

you’ve always had me,

walking on a string.

you’d finally been pulled under into what could almost be described as sleep when you heard a thump and a quiet “fuck me!” you were alone in your parents’ large house (something about visiting your dad’s old boss — you couldn’t care less), which made the nighttime extra unnerving to you as a young woman, alone in the middle of fucking nowhere. that was something steve had known about, before he broke your heart.

you shot up immediately, rolling out of your bed and grabbing one of your sneakers to hold up as a makeshift weapon. your eyes were wide with fear and your voice shook as you spoke, “don’t come near me, perv!” you launched the shoe at the tall, dark figure, striking them in the shoulder. whoever it was taken aback and made a noise of pain. you were reaching for your other shoe when you heard your name. “it’s just me, sweetheart.” you lowered your arm as you took in his outline in the dark. you didn’t need light to know what he looked like; you’d spent long enough memorizing every freckle on his face. the slight gap in his left eyebrow from when he got cut in a fight and it scarred. how the right corner of his mouth used to be permanently curled in a smirk around you.

you squinted still.

“stevie? did you sneak through my fucking window?”

you couldn’t help but use his nickname. three weeks of the cold shoulder doesn’t exactly undo months (nay, years) of pining.

“you could’ve used the front door, you know. my parents aren’t home.”

he hadn’t said anything to you yet, allowing you to fill the silence with your half-awake rambling. he gave you a sheepish smile as you moved to stand in front of him, looking up at him with your arms crossed over your chest in worry.

“why are you here?”

you hated how your voice cracked.

he looked down at the floor and then back at you, meeting your eyes. you hated how you immediately got sucked back into the warm umber of his gaze. he sucked in a breath through his teeth, shaking hands in his pockets.

“i need to tell you something,” he said with as much sincerity as he could pour into his words. you rolled your eyes, turning to get back into bed. “i think i’ve heard everything i need to hear, harrington.” he said your name pleadingly, reaching out to envelop your fingers in his.

you hated how you let steve's warm fingerpads trace the inside of your wrist.

you especially hated that it made you feel better.

“please let me say this and then i’ll be out of your life forever.”

you nodded.

“i didn’t think that you’d want anything to do with me.”

your heart ruptured.

he continued: “you’re this stunning, whip-smart, sweet girl who everyone loves. and i’m just this washed-up guy who chauffeurs for six children and works in a video store.”

steve paused to look at you, not quite understanding the emotion pressed into the creases of your face.

“i thought that your friends put you up to this - to me. i thought you were just using me to get a laugh, so i thought i would use you right back.”

tears bubbled up along your lower lashline. your lower lip wobbled as he poured out the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind to you in your moonlight bedroom. your eyes adjusted to see him

“but then i got to know you. like really know you. and i realized that you were one of my favorite people ever. and then i felt like i’d fallen into your trap. and so i lashed out and i was a fucking dumbass and ruined whatever i could’ve had with the girl i love. what i’m trying to say is - i was an idiot and i really don’t want this to end before we even had the chance to start it, sweetheart.”

you let the tears fall unknowingly, but unlike the gym, steve cradled your face gently in his hands, swiping away the beads of saline that ran down the apples of your cheeks. you sucked in a breath, but it felt like the oxygen cascaded out of you instead; you brought your face closer to his.

“you��re so fucking stupid, harrington.”

and then you were kissing him.

it felt completely natural to you both - no hesitating, no waiting. he moved his mouth over yours, pressing your scantily-clad pajama-covered body into him. you felt the softness of his stomach and the hardness of his chest against you as you tried to get yourself impossibly closer. from where his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, you saw some of his chest hair. a path of warmth made its way down to the root of your core. he pulled away and you whined, chasing his mouth with yours.

he breathed out your name like it was a poem.

your smile was just as bright as it usually was, even through all of the salty wetness sliding down your face.

“i love you, stevie."

he looked at you like he wanted to bring the stars closer, just so you could get a better look.

"say it again," he teased gently as he nosed at your throat, prompting you to lift your chin and expose your neck. he started to pepper open mouthed kisses on your neck.

"i-i love you."

he sucked harshly on one spot, making you softly cry out. you pulled back and watched his pretty face form a pout.

"but you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

he looked down at you with a boyish smirk, before dipping down to meet your lips with his once again.

“i can think of at least one thing that might help.”

he kissed you with a ferocity, a deep-seeded wanting. you sighed into the kiss and whimpered when you felt his tongue nudge against the seam of your mouth. you opened your lips in a surprised moan and he slipped his warm tongue in, licking the roof of your mouth. you let out another whimper, and he groaned. “those sweet little noises are gonna fucking kill me, baby.” his words were strained, his voice raspy, lips slick with a mixture of yours and his spit. you felt your face warm to match the heat emanating from your sex. he dove in to kiss you again, gently leading you toward your bed.

your back hit your cornflower-dotted duvet as steve caged you within his arms. your hands had made their way into his hair, mussing it far past anything that a few puffs of farrah fawcett hair spray could ever remedy. you felt the ache between your thighs grow and in your steve-induced haze, your hips jolted up to meet his. you were surrounded by him: the feel of his warm, wet mouth on yours. his smell -- lemongrass shampoo and pine cologne and something that just made him steve. steve tasted like promises and the cherry slushee he'd gotten with robin after work. his rough fingertips soothed over the spot at your waist where your flimsy tank top had risen. you maneuvered your hips over his groin again. the tiny bit of friction that his rough, tented jeans provided against your throbbing clit made you whine out his name.

“stevie,” you pleaded.

he moved his lips down your neck, lapping at your pulse and leaving a trail of bruises in his wake. the stimulation only made you move your hips more in desperation. you were already surprisingly close — not even nights alone in your room with your hands shoved down your cotton panties, imagining this very moment, were you ever close this quickly. one of his hands came down to squeeze your hip — not harshly, but as a reminder that he was in charge. he pulled away when he felt you move your hips again. he sighed. “pretty girl, i want to take my time with you. be patient.”

you looked at him through your heavy lashes, pouting a little as you grabbed for him to come back closer to you. “but i wanna feel you!” you exclaimed, pulling him down toward you to latch on to his neck and grind up toward his bulge. he hissed as you found his sweet spot, right between where his collarbone meets his neck. he panted out your name as the hand gripping your hip got tighter; you could see the hand near your face clench into a fist and he breathed shakily. “i want to feel you too, but i have to get you ready first, sweetheart. is that okay?”

your heart swelled so much you thought it might beat its way through your chest. you nodded bashfully as his hands finally slipped under your tiny pajama tank top. steve kissed you as his fingers danced over your ribcage. you shivered at their warmth and giggled when he intentionally tickled you. you felt him smile into the kiss (which did almost make your heart explode). but all thoughts of just how much you loved him went out the window when you felt his hand rub over one of the stiff peaks of your covered breasts. you arched upwards, pushing your chest into his hand. he chuckled at your eagerness and detached himself from your wanton mouth to remove your tiny top. your breasts met the air and steve looked at you in wonder, as if you deserved to be immortalized in the louvre. “god, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

you suddenly felt shy, his words bringing you back into the present. here you were, topless with steve harrington giving you hickies. you grabbed his bicep gently with nerves puddling in your still lust-blown eyes.

“stevie, wait.”

he immediately gave you space, asking you oh so kindly, “is everything okay, baby?” you nodded. “more than okay. i just…” your voice faltered and you looked at your hands. he put his hands on the sides of your face, letting you sink into their warmth and weight. “it’s okay, pretty girl. you can tell me anything.” you bit your already kiss-bruised bottom lip.

“it’s just that i’ve never…this is the furthest i’ve ever been with anyone,” you rushed out. you desperately hoped that you hadn’t ruined things with him again. he sponged a kiss to the tip of your nose before saying, “i won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” your eyes widened and you placed your hands over his on your face. “no no! i just wanted to let you know before we did anything else. i want it to be you, stevie. i love you.”

he smiled at that. “i love you too, sweetheart. god, i can't stop saying it.”

it was a miracle that your heart had still remained lodged in your chest at this point.

“kiss me, please,” you cooed, and he happily obliged, removing your thin pajama shorts in the process.

he left soft, wet kisses along the column of your throat, biting down gently on the top of your left nipple when he arrived at your tits. “perfect tits” as he called them. you squeaked and he laughed, the vibrations around your puckered bud heading straight to your pussy. you half-believed that your panties would be sheer from how wet you were.

he kneaded and pinched at your right nipple as he laved his tongue all over your left, giving you little nips that made you squeal and kisses that made you melt under him. he alternated between breasts and when your tits were sufficiently marked with imprints of his teeth, he placed his hand over your searing cunt. he watched your face change, your eyes rolling back, from the lightest of touches. you were equally as whipped for him as he was for you. steve groaned as he felt your thighs trap his hand, pushing the wet part of your panties into him. his eyes rolled back at the sight before him, your tits marked with his teeth, your eyes darkened for him, your pussy rutting into his hand, all covered in white cotton panties with a little pink bow. you whimpered when he took his hand away, searching for relief as your clit pulsed.

“what did i say, pretty girl?”

“that i have to be patient,” you answered shyly. he hummed.

“good girl.”

you burned from head to toe at his words.

he peeled your panties off of you, inhaling sharply as a string of your arousal connected you to the sopping cotton, only snapping once he had your panties partway down your thighs. “all for me, sweetheart?” you nodded shyly and pressed your thighs together, but he caught you and spread them again. “i wanna see you, baby,” he said before lowering himself to face your drooling cunt.

he licked a fat stripe up your slit, making you jump a little and let out a breathy gasp. steve grinned before spreading your folds with his hands and prodding at your quivering hole with his tongue. he moaned at your taste — tart and heady and you. you moaned as he sponged wet kisses to your folds, before moving up your thigh toward your needy clit. he looked you in the eye as he devilishly licked around the bud before latching his mouth onto you. steve sucked your clit into his mouth, gently brushing his teeth across your sensitive bud. you rushed your hips to meet his face and your hands flew to his head again. he gave a little laugh at your want. he kept his mouth attached to your clit as he gathered dipped his index finger into your folds, gathering your slick before pushing into your poor little hole. he muttered a curse under his breath.

“shit, sweet girl. you’re so fucking tight.” you contracted around his fingers at his voice, about to reply before he put his mouth back on your clit, sucking harsher than he had before. you felt yourself get impossibly wetter as steve began to pump his finger in and out of your entrance. you tried to move yourself on his hand, pleading for “more, stevie, more!” his middle finger slid in to join his index and you hissed at the stretch. he stopped to let you adjust and you marveled at how full you felt just because of two thick fingers. he eased the two of them in and out of you slowly, spreading you open for him. you were so lost in the pleasure that he was doling out that you almost missed his calls of your name.

“baby, can you take another one? d’you think you can?” his face had moved to hover over yours now; you could see your juices on his chin. you nodded frantically, shifting back and forth on his already dripping fingers. “please stevie — need it. need you.” he kissed you heatedly as he inserted his ring finger, swallowing your gasp with fervid swirls of his tongue. you keened as you felt the girth of three fingers inside of you; your fingers and imagination couldn’t do steve’s hands justice. he gave an experimental thrust, keeping up with his assault on your clit, with the heel of his hand. he kept kissing you, switching between gentle presses of his mouth to yours and hot, frantic swipes of his tongue. he noticed your cunt start to pulse, steadily getting tighter as you mewled. his fingers squelched as he slid them in and out of your sopping cunt. “steve, stevie, m’gonna-” you could barely get the words out before you let another loud moan. “gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he teased, speeding up his ministrations. your voice was but a shred in the back of your throat at this point; the only response you were able to give him was a high-pitched sob. your mouth fell open and your head tilted back, renewing him access to your neck and chest. you felt yourself tighten even more as his lips brushed across the tender bruises he’d already made. the combination of his lips on yours, on your skin — his hand between your thighs — you were completely surrounded by him. he was knuckle deep by now, allowing your gummy walls to suck him in. your nails cut into his biceps as you breathed rapidly. “cum for me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth. at his permission, you let the taught string in your body snap. your walls tightened like a vice around his fingers, so tight that steve swore it could’ve cut off his circulation. your cunt fluttered around the fingers seated deep inside of you. your back arched off the bed and your gut tightened as the intensity of your orgasm washed over you in waves. your vision blurred as your body went limp, twitching with aftershocks. you said his name like a prayer through it all, finally blinking to clear your vision. you were met with his smug face as he gave you one last push with his fingers. you squeaked at the contact and he smiled at you, giving you a doting kiss on your swollen, bitten lips.

“all good, baby? you were so good for me. my good girl.”

you nodded, thoroughly exhausted, but also craving him. “stevie, i wanna feel you inside of me,” you said, giving him your best puppydog eyes. he gave you an easy smile, before searching the pockets of his jeans for a condom. “oh shit,” he said, exasperatedly. you sat up with a frown as he rooted through his belongings. “stevie, honey, what’s the matter?” he looked at you apologetically. “i don’t have a condom,” he said dejectedly. you reached out to kiss the corner of his mouth, to push the frown off of his face. you gave him a small smile and said, “s’okay! ‘m on the pill.” his pupils dilated, darkening his eyes so that only a sliver of hazel showed. “and i’m clean, because, yanno…”

“fuck,” he rasped out, “you can’t say shit like that to me, baby. i’ll cum in my pants like a fuckin’ dope.” you laughed your real laugh, his favorite laugh, and in that moment, he felt overwhelmed with love for you. so overwhelmed that as he pulled his cock out, he told you again. he called your name softly to get your attention.

“i love you so goddamn much,” he said, pouring every drop of earnestness he could into his words. now that he knew that his words actually did matter to you.

“i love you too, steve harrington,” you said as you leaned up to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. he chased your mouth with his to lay a series of quick kisses to your lips, muffling the giggles that tumbled from your throat. he rose to his knees above you and shucked off his jeans and his boxers.

now, you’d never seen a cock before in your life, but fuck, were they all as pretty as steve’s? his cock was just, so pretty: a red tip that gave way to a flesh-toned shaft, thick with a vein on the underside of his length. his head was leaking in frustration. your eyes widened as you took him in, wondering if his massive shaft would be able to fit inside of you.

he teased his ruddy tip through the wet mess between your thighs, stroking himself with your cum from earlier. he placed one of his hands on your hip, interlacing the fingers of his other hand with yours, letting your entwined hands rest by your head.

“are you ready, sweetheart?”

you gave a soft “yes” in reply and gulped down a breath. he noticed how you tensed up and squeezed your hip gently. “we don’t have to if-” “no!” you exclaimed, “i want to it’s just…what if i’m not good?” his heart almost shattered as he looked at the worry written across your sweet face. he brought his lips to the crease between your brows, pecking you there to tell you to relax your face. “you’re perfect to me already, baby,” he said, oh so honestly. and you believed him, because it was your stevie looking at you like you were the only real thing in his life. “okay, i’m ready,” you said, relaxing into your bed a little more.

steve guided his tip to your quivering entrance and kissed you as he slid the fat head of his cock in. you gasped as he breached your walls, arms winding around his neck. your jaw fell open, slack against where your chin rested on his shoulder, almost impossibly close to him. the fullness of his fingers was one thing, but this was totally different. the stretch was addictive as he slid into you inch by inch. he worked you open gently, and you wanted him to stay inside you forever. he noticed that you’d gone quiet and brought a hand up to comb through his hair in order to see you better. “everything okay?” you nodded fervently, wriggling your hips and mewling out, “stevie more, more.” at your words, he bottomed out, heavy balls slapping against your ass and you made a strangled noise into the air as he moaned into your neck. “fucking- holy shit, you feel so good.” your walls contracted around him and steve had an idea. he started slowly thrusting into you, allowing you to get adjusted to the feeling of his heavy cock inside of you. all the while, dripping praise into your waiting ears.

"you're doing so well f'me," he said, still thrusting into you slowly -- wanting to make this about you, not him.

but something inside him snapped when you said, “stevie, fuck me.” he started pounding into you, jackhammering his hips against yours, making your eyes roll back so far in your head that all you could see was black. his chest hair brushed against your nipples, meaty thighs brushing against you with coarse hair during every thrust. you choked out a loud moan at the sensation, clapping a hand over your mouth at the volume. he noticed that your sounds had become muffled and whispered into the air between you two: “c’mon pretty girl. i wanna hear those sweet sounds you make.” his balls slapped against your ass as he rolled his hips into yours; the sounds of flesh against flesh ricocheted off the toile wallpaper in your bedroom. the wetness between your thighs kept spreading, creating a lewd slap as he plunged into you over and over again.

his spongy tip pushed against your g-spot and you clenched around him desperately. he moaned at the sensation, muttering a curse under his breath and something about how tight you were. you bit his shoulder after a particularly hard thrust, causing him to hiss and shudder. your walls started to spasm around his cock as that big vein of his pummeled into your sticky cunt. your whimpers became faster and higher as you chased your orgasm, steve right there with you. “stevie!” you yelped as he continued his brutal pace. “’m right there with you, baby. let go,” he whispered, his lips covering yours. you did just as he asked, a borderline pornographic whine slipping its way out of your throat and plastering itself across his mouth. you clenched impossibly tightly around him, stuttering out, “want it inside, please stevie,” as you were pushed over the edge. your pussy pulsed and your body shook, muscles tense as he milked your puffy cunt for all of your juices. you sobbed while you came; it was the hardest you’ve ever cum, your intense love for steve amplifying every shockwave. your legs were wrapped around him, heels digging into his back as he gave you one lasting thrust, his hips stuttering. you felt a warmth extend through your weeping cunt as he painted your sweet walls. the feeling of his hot ropes of cum filling you caused you to tighten around him once again, riding out the last waves of your orgasm.

neither of you moved for a while as steve remained inside of you, both of you at a loss for words. he raked a hand through his sweaty brunette mop and gave you a kiss, pushing all of his feeling into it as he eased out of you. you whimpered at the resulting emptiness, reaching your arms out to keep him in bed with you. he smiled, dropping a smattering of kisses to your face. you giggled and held his head in your hands to catch his lips. he pulled away with one final peck to your lips, pulling on his boxers. you sat up with a melancholy look in your eyes, but he squeezed your ankle in reassurance, telling you that he was “just gonna go ‘n get a washcloth for you, sweetheart.”

he returned moments later from your ensuite with a damp cloth, kissing up your leg as he wiped down the apex of your thighs. he wiped himself off and grabbed his shirt for you, gently telling you to raise your arms as he slipped it over your head. he lay down and opened his arms for you, as you giddily landed on his chest. you reached over him to turn on your bedside lamp and he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“just wanna look at you s’all,” you said delicately, as you let your fingers play with the curls at the nape of his neck. his heart stumbled at your words and he squeezed you tighter.

“i’m sorry,” steve said again, “i love you so, so much.”

you yawned and snuggled into him, throwing your other arm across his body, murmuring into the air shared between you two: “you’re the only one for me ever, stevie.”

he looked at you in the buttery light of your bedside lamp, half-asleep on him, drowsily babbling about everything you loved about him (his jokes, his freckles, his loyalty), nose squished into his neck as far as possible.

and he realized, in that moment, that he’d always walk on whatever string you led him on.

© ker0senebunny. all rights reserved. all original posts of writing are my own words, with the exceptions of quotations from songs, movies, and other media. my work is NOT to be crossposted to another platform, copied by anyone, or translated without my express and explicit permission.

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 8 all chapters

-Your birthday falls on a beautiful spring day, and of course, you have to work. When a new customer growls into the parking lot on a shiny black motorcycle everyone crowds behind the counter to see who it could be.

It takes so little to entertain all of you, sometimes.

The boys titter excitedly about the sweet bike and torque and ccs, whatever that means.

When the rider takes off his helmet there’s a fall of fabulous dark hair, and something inside you utterly purrs at the sight.

It’s Mr. Wick.

Maybe you should have known. His padded motorcycle jacket makes his shoulders seem impossibly broad, and as he crosses the parking lot on long legs you hear Cassie sigh behind you.

Same, girl, same.

Cassie had made you a little birthday crown to wear out of a to go cup, a la Princess Peach. You forget about the silly adornment clipped to your head, until Mr. Wick approaches the counter to make his order.

“One coffee…your Highness?” He lifts one of those dark brows with a small smirk, and fuck if it doesn't make you blush.

“It's my birthday,” you sheepishly tell him. His expression actually softens.

“Happy Birthday, then.”

“Thanks.”

“Not fair you have to work today.”

You shrug. “No rest for the wicked.”

This makes him smile a little wider, and you feel that’s a good present for today.

“Hopefully you have something fun planned for later?”

Is he fishing, or just making conversation? You can never tell with this man.

“Not really,” you admit with a shrug.

Your parents are divorced and remarried, living far away from you in their new lives, with their new families. You know they’ll call you later, when they remember you. You’ll have an awkward little conversation that will only serve to grind up your heart into smaller pieces, rather than lift your spirits like its meant to.

Your friends are busy too. One, with her new baby who never has time for you anymore, and you totally understand (and endorse) her priorities, even if it still hurts. The other’s work schedule is exactly the opposite of yours, and you never manage to hang out anymore.

Maybe you’ll go to the thrift store after you get off work, or treat yourself to an ice cream. Nothing too extravagant. You’re saving every penny you can for your upcoming trip.

“Well, maybe something will come up.”

It’s a nice thought.

You make him his usual coffee order, and don’t think much about it the rest of the day. This warm spring day has everyone out and about, stir crazy after the thaw, and you were running full speed from open to the end of your shift. For some incongruous reason, people were extra rude too, and as the clock strikes 2 you are at the end of your rope, your smile more closely resembling a baring of teeth.

Your whole body hurts, and you think you are too exhausted to do anything fun for yourself, until you go to your car in the lot behind the brick building to find Mr. Wick—and his motorcycle—parked next to your old Rav4. He looks utterly scrumptious, if you’re being honest, those legs going on forever as he leans against the seat of his bike. His hair is waving down around his face as he browses something on his phone to pass the time.

Good on you, for only pausing for a moment to ogle him.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You look between him and the bike with your lip between your teeth, wondering what he’s doing, your treacherous heart fluttering in your chest.

“I thought…it might be fun to go for a ride? If you want.”

You cannot suppress a wide smile, touched to the marrow that he thought of you on your special day. “That does sound like fun,” you admit, and not just because the thought of sitting behind him on a bike makes you a little weak in the knees. The sunshine that day truly feels like a gift from the gods after such a harsh winter. “But…”

He tilts his head inquisitively.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

He shakes his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, and your fingers physically ache to brush it away. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he assures you, and damn if that isn’t enough to convince you.

“Full disclosure: I’ve never actually been on a bike before?”

His smile is nothing less than gentle, and he could have pushed you over with a feather.

“All you have to do is hold on to me,” he assures you, and you think you lose your mind a little at that.

There is slightly more to it, he instructs you as you put on a helmet and he helps you clamber on behind him. He tells you to lean slightly with him into the turns, but not too much. The bike grumbles like a fire-breathing beast beneath you as he starts it up.

The feeling of his slim hips and taut backside between your thighs crosses some wires in your brain.

He takes you to the winding backroads of the countryside and up the mountain. You feel like you’re flying, snaking through the curves on this powerful machine, with a man you find you trust implicitly at the controls.

You laugh out loud more than once.

At a straightaway he asks through the helmet mic, “Want to see what she can do?”

“Sure,” you answer, even though you can’t imagine what more this beautiful bike could offer.

“Lean into me, and hold on.” You obey, looping arms around his trim waist, plastered to his backside as he hunkers down for aerodynamics. You were already going fast, but when he shifts a gear you take off like a shot.

A sane person would have screamed, but all you can do is laugh.

This is the purest joy you’ve felt in longer than you can remember.

John pulls over at a scenic overlook, parking the bike so you can have a little break. You sit together on a picnic table, looking over the valley below. A stream snakes through it like a silver ribbon, shimmering in the sunlight. You sigh and lean back on your arms, lifting your face to the sun.

This has turned out to be a perfect day. John smiles a little as he looks over at you, but says nothing, just lets you soak it in.

“Thank you for this,” you finally say. “I was having such a shitty day.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sit up and rub at your neck. You have an unrelenting ache in the muscle over your left shoulder blade. It never really goes away, but its definitely worse after a long day on your feet bending over coffee.

John looks worried, bless him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I just…have this thing. I think there’s a demon living in my shoulder.”

After a pensive moment he lifts his hands in offering, moving very slowly as though he might spook you. His hands are…beautiful. Large, long fingered, calloused too. You wonder what he does, when he’s not sitting in the coffee shop or binding books. The thought of them on your body gives you a forbidden little thrill.

You do not even consider the missing digit, until he looks at his left hand and frowns, closing it to hide it at his side. “Sorry. I still forget…”

But you take his hand in yours, inspecting it closely for the first time. He allows it, though there is something vulnerable in his eyes as you do. The healed skin almost looks jagged, like it wasn’t severed with a clean cut or a surgical blade. You feel the urge to press your lips to it, as though you could kiss it better, but you just rub your thumb over the fine dark hairs there.

“What happened?”

“Someone…” He cuts himself off with a frustrated sound. “I had an accident.”

You sense there’s much more to the story, but you don’t press him yet.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes, I get the phantom aches. Mostly it’s fine though.”

You nod and angle your back to him, placing his hand on your shoulder as you shoot him a pointed look, granting him permission to touch you. His sigh is almost imperceptible, but you sit up a little straighter as he squeezes your shoulder lightly. You get the slightest taste of the strength in those hands, yet you know he could rip you to pieces if he chose to.

He slays you in a different way, knowing exactly how to use them on your sore muscles, and you can’t help but moan as he squeezes the kinks out of your shoulders. For a second he freezes at the sound, before continuing to work his magic.

“God…that feels so good.” You’ve been in pain for so long that it’s damn near better than sex.

Maybe it’s been too long for that too, though.

“You are a mess.” You know him well enough now to know he’s frowning as he says this. He kills a knot with the well-placed blade of his thumb. You feel it release and you jump a little. Though it doesn’t really hurt you, you’re not sure why there is suddenly moisture in your eyes.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken care of you like this, you suppose.

“Job hazard,” you sigh.

“Do you ever do yoga?”

You laugh a little at that for some reason. “I used to practice, when I was younger.” It kind of fell by the wayside. You’re always so tired when you get home.

“Well, stretching is good for you, as you age. Take it from an old man. It helps.”

“You’re not old,” you immediately protest.

“Nice to know I still have some curb appeal.” His words are laden with sarcasm, and yet you can tell he is pleased.

He finishes the massage with a lighter touch, to stimulate blood flow, that gives you delicious chills all over. Your shoulders are your kryptonite, and you are putty in his hands. You look back at him from beneath your lashes, curious what exactly it is the two of you are doing here. Does he like you, or is he just being impossibly nice?

He doesn’t avoid your gaze, but you find you can’t read him, not one bit.

“Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

It is almost dinner time. “Okay.”

You’re a little sad as you ride back down the mountain towards town. But he pulls up to the local diner, and you have sinfully greasy cheeseburgers and shakes. Despite your protests he pays, because: “No one should have to pay for their birthday dinner.”

You know he’s fucking loaded, so you let him have his way.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” you admit, munching on a fry. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

You know he’s told you to call him John before, but fuck if you haven’t noticed how his eyes darken just a little when you call him Mr. Wick, or even just Sir at the coffeeshop. You feel like you stumbled onto something you don’t entirely understand, but it fills you with a forbidden warmth all the same.

He gives you a hooded look from across the table, and you fancy he knows that you know what you’re doing.

“My pleasure, y/n.”

He doesn’t insist that you call him John again.

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #i miss my bike lol

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