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crazyinluvfix · 3 days

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PROLOGUE

FATAL ATTRACTION - a stiles stilinski story

summary: Sera Salvatore moved to Beacon Hills for a break from the supernatural. But her life was once again turned upside down when she and her two best friends get thrown head first into a world of werewolves and mystery. But it’s hard for her to protect her friends when a single werewolf bite is what could kill her for good…

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

a/n: this is just the intro ! future parts will be longer, that’s where the story really begins ;)

1.8k words

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Beacon Hills was supposed to be a sanctuary from all things supernatural.

After what felt like over a century (because it was), Sera Salvatore needed a break.

Which was admittedly a little hypocritical considering she herself was a vampire, but she was desperate for an escape from all the drama and chaos that her family - namely her brothers - had brought to Mystic Falls. So she decided to start afresh, again.

After only one year of living back in her hometown, she picked up and went to the furthest most point in the continental United States, which just so happened to land her here. From Georgia, all the way to sunny California. It would be a nice change.

She was fortunate enough that she could pass as quite young whenever she settled in a new place. With the help of makeup, clothing, and a healthy amount of dishonesty she managed to blend into freshman year at Beacon Hills High without anyone even batting an eye.

It was now one year ago today that she had started her first day, which turned out to be a breeze.

January 3rd, 2010

“You’re humiliating,” I expressed my annoyance flatly as I stood by the door, waiting for my brother to let go of my jacket that he had been straightening before I left the house.

He patted my shoulder with a motherly smile as if he was sending his child off to kindergarten, then took a step back to play the role further.

“Have you got everything?” he asked as he nodded to my bag.

I let out a breathy chuckle. I didn’t hate him as much as I let on… mostly.

“I packed you a blood bag for lunch,” he continued, that smirk of his right at home on his smug face - never a dull moment.

My hand reached for my keys on the side table as I walked backward towards the door, shaking my head to stop my lips from forming a smile of their own. “How thoughtful,” I retorted sarcastically.

But just as I was about to step outside I stopped to say one last thing, “Thanks for helping me move in and all,” my tone was much more genuine than it typically was when speaking to him, but I really was grateful.

Moving across the country would’ve been infinitely harder without his company on the road, and without being able to play the little sister card and sit back while he does the heavy lifting. But… and I would never admit it… but even now, starting a new school was just as scary as it always has been and a part of me liked that I had my big brother there to see me off.

I quickly cut our sappy little chat short with another comment, “But, I expect you to be gone when I get home.” I arched an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him.

He was definitely the fun brother, but with fun comes impulsivity - a trait that must be genetic, and must have skipped my twin - and with impulsivity comes a long string of ‘animal attacks’. And that was exactly the drama in question that I wanted to escape, so I had brought along a surplus of blood bags to hold me until I found a more permanent solution.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll be out within the hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see ya,” I said finally as I stepped outside, hiding from the brisk winter cold in the confines of my leather jacket.

My words were met with another smile and a nod from my brother before he spoke again. “Tell me how it went when you’re home.” The protective mother was back. But this time, it wasn’t just a joke, he was lucky we had no witnesses since he’d hate to ruin his tough-guy persona.

I almost laughed at him again, but I didn’t. As humans me and my brothers were incredibly close, but over time that faded. Me and our other brother never really settled that, but over the past year back in Mystic Falls me and the eldest fell back into old patterns.

“I will,” I gave in with a joking eye-roll. “Bye Damon,” I waved his way.

“Bye Seffie,” he returned, getting a kick out of my suddenly sour face.

Seffie. A nickname he saddled me with at the age of 4 and has stuck with me ever since. But my real name was a mouthful, so I chose to go by Sera - a fact Damon will insist on disregarding for the rest of our eternal lives.

As I walked away my once friendly hand gesture turned into a middle finger as I heard him laugh behind me and shut the door as I made my way to my new school.

The moment I stepped foot in the doors I noticed some heads turn, some overheard whispers from passers-by that fuelled my ego just that bit more as I walked up to reception and signed in.

First-period English went smoothly, then it was History which ironically was focused on the confederacy (not me and my siblings' proudest fight). And it was safe to say the teacher was thoroughly impressed with my knowledge on the subject, little did he know I quite literally lived it.

But after class was when my day took a turn.

“1076, 1076,” I repeated under my breath as I went to scour the halls for my new locker, but the break rush made my search all the more difficult with what felt like a million people charging around.

But finally, I seemed to be in luck as I read the numbers to my right; 1080, 1079, 1078, 1077, and…

Crash.

I took a deep breath and a frustrated sigh at the smug-faced, blond jock who had just practically booked it into my side, knocking all of my books out of my hands, and causing me to jump at the deafening sound of them hitting the tile floor. ‘Great,’ I thought satirically. The prick didn’t even bother to look back! Let alone be kind enough to help me pick them back up again.

But someone else did. In fact, two other boys seemed to have played witness and immediately came scrambling up to my side.

“Hey, uh-” the one with darker features and a crooked jawline, giving him a somewhat goofy smile stuttered, stopping after his friend who stood politely next to him not-so-subtly jabbed him in the side with his elbow, causing him to bring a hand to it and shoot his friend a glare.

“What he meant to say was, do you want a hand with that?” The slightly taller friend with the buzzed brown hair asked after his friend's failure to do so.

I could do nothing but laugh slightly at both of their clear excitement and reply with a smile, “I’d love one.”

Picking up books was a simple task that I most definitely could’ve done myself in probably half the time, but nothing compared to watching them both drop to the floor and bat at each other's hands in a frantic competition to ‘help the most.’ My smile grew wider and I brought a hand up to rest on my forehead. This was already a refreshing change since none of the boys back home would have ever done the same.

Soon, they both stood back up in front of me, proud looks on both of their faces as they put the books in my open locker for me.

“Thank you,” I chuckled in response.

“No problem,” the more hyper one added before quickly speaking again at a constant, lightning pace. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he gestured to himself, “and this is my buddy, Scott,” his hand moved over to pat the other boy on the shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, Stiles and Scott,” I nodded back at them, still trying to bite back an amused grin, “I’m Sera.”

“You’re new here right?” Scott spoke again with an innocent look of pure curiosity.

I put my hands together behind my back and rocked on my heels slightly, “Mhm, started this morning,” a somewhat nervous chuckle left my lips, which the one called Stiles seemed to pick up on because he quickly interjected.

“I mean, we’d be happy to show you ‘round if you wanna hang with us,” he offered, a hopeful shrug on his shoulders and a pout on his lips.

“Wouldn’t we, Scott,” he then batted the back of his hand against his friend’s arm, glaring at him to respond.

Scott quickly blinked and nodded rapidly, “Oh, yeah, of course.”

I bit my lip in contemplation, they did seem awfully nice. “I’d love to, but I’ve gotta go to the office quickly, but maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later,” my counter seemed to be accepted without a second thought as I studied their expressions.

When I stepped backward I noticed how they didn’t leave just yet, so I said, “Bye boys, I’ll see you around,” with a small wiggle of my fingers as a wave.

“See you around, Sera,” Stiles repeated as he and Scott both mimicked my step back, his hand raising up to do a little salute before we turned our backs to each other.

I could not help the quiet giggle that escaped my mouth after I was out of their eyeline, but I also could not help but hear what they were saying to each other down the hall.

“Why the fuck did you salute?” Scott whispered, hitting Stiles back in retaliation for earlier.

“I- I don’t know, okay?” Stiles replied slightly panicked.

My smile grew. What idiots.

As for the conversation with the receptionist, it went smoothly with a little help from my immaculate ‘people skills’.

“I’m sorry but we insist on transcripts. And your immunisation records seem to be missing,” the lady said, peering over her glasses as she looked through my files.

My sigh was followed by me leaning forward, looking into her eyes as I watched her pupils dilate - she just had to make this more difficult.

“Please look again, I’m sure you’ll find everything you’re looking for.” A proud smirk laced my lips as she did exactly that, nodding and sending me on my way. Too easy.

During lunch, I did end up joining the boys at their table, taking a seat next to Stiles and definitely not missing the wide-eyed look he gave to Scott, along with his stuttered breath as I leaned over him to reach my pen that had rolled across the table.

The portrayal of vampires in Twilight had always annoyed me due to its incredible inaccuracy, but it was beyond amusing how easy it was for me to read their minds, even without special powers.

That day had ended with new numbers in everyone’s phones and Sera scoring a new ride to school and back every day in her new friend’s beaten-up old Jeep (which she thought had enough charm to distract from the deafening sound it made when running).

And from that moment forward, the three were inseparable.

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hope you enjoyed !

this was basically to just tell you what to expect from the rest of the series. might not post it all on here unless you want me to so check out my ao3 and wattpad ( @crazyinluvfix ) like and comment x

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happysaddca · 13 hours

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This is. Incredibly self-indulgent and requires context.

You are a veteran FazCo employee who worked as a janitor (and eventually dates that location's DCA) when the Glitchtrap virus infects the plex. Unlike the game, this virus affects all the mega pizzaplexes, and it leads to you getting mauled by Moon. You nearly die, the DCA is deactivated and replaced after the virus mysteriously vanishes, and eventually you start working at a new plex, with a new DCA and staff.

After a long and bumpy road, you finally have your DCA's chips installed in a functional animatronic. It's time for a reunion.

Parts and Service still creeps you out, even with the changes the tech team here made. At the very least, you’re allowed to wait in the cylinder instead of outside with everyone else.

You take a peek through the glass, catching Gemma and Anika watching you. Your body locks up, and you manage a stiff little wave before focusing on Sun behind them. Sun isn’t watching you (at least, you’re pretty sure he’s not). Sun’s watching the body on the table. Your turn back to it as well.

It’s another Daycare Attendant unit, currently completely off. The color changing material of the animatronic’s pants and paint sits at a muted, muddy brown color, the light not bright enough to bring out Sun’s colors but too bright for Moon’s. When you touch its faceplate, it’s cold, unmoving. It’s an older model, a spare body for the DCA standing outside. And it currently holds the chip that is your

That is your Sun and Moon.

“Everything good in there?” Gemma’s voice is tinny over the speakers. You nod quickly, giving a thumb’s up. “Okay, I need you to back away for a second. Gotta plug in and give the OS one last check before we power them up.”

“Okay.” You give a reluctant half step back, then another at Gemma’s prompting, retreating closer to the wall and the people outside. Overhead, electricity thrums as the diagnostics and repair tools come online, a cable snaking down to plug into the back of the animatronic’s head. “You’ll warn me when they’re about to be turned on, right?” No answer. “Guys?”

The sounds overhead changes, with a chime sequence signaling that no, you were in fact not being warned ahead of time.. Some pseudo-soothing, corporate beeps that remind you of commercials advertising anti-depressants begin, but when you go to approach the body again, the speaker crackles on.

“Stay right there.”

“But I want—” You’re cut off before you can even turn to face the trio waiting outside.

Anika’s frown is made more severe by scarring distorting her forehead.

“We don’t know how they’re going to react to being woken up for the first time in three years. For them, it’s only been a moment since they shut down, and we don’t really know how that… hey. Don’t look like that. I thought you’d already worked past the guilt.”

“No, I have. But. I.” Another chime sequence has you whipping back around, but there’s no change. You shift so you can keep half an eye on what’s happening while you’re talking to everyone on the outside.

“Sunshine.” Sunny speaks over Anika, leaning forward to take the microphone. “Think about what might happen if they come online and hurt you.”

“It’d be—”

“It’d be an accident, but.” Sunny holds up one long finger, indicating that you should wait. You look back at the table again, but there’s still nothing to indicate what’s going on. “Friend, turn your screen around. They’re going to be fretful unless they know what’s going on.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Gemma turns one of the monitors around, showing off a series of progress bars that you don’t know what they mean. She taps the monitor. “Once this hits a hundred percent, they’ll boot up.”

“Thank you.” The lump in your throat eases, just a little. You stare at the little bars slowly working its way up.

“Sunshine.” Sunny catches your attention with his talking-to-children-about-complex-topics voice. “We should stay here until the other attendant wakes up and has a moment to process that they aren’t affected by the virus—and that they’re safe.”

“As safe as they can be in here,” you mumble, and Sunny’s smile widens as he gives a small nod, setting the microphone back on the table. The progress bar fills ever so slowly, and any noise behind you makes you twitch and look back at the animatronic with concern. Your palms itch, suddenly slick, and you wipe at them quickly before shoving them in the pockets of your overalls.

Overalls. You are bringing back your oldest, dearest friend that you’ve not seen in years and you’re wearing the world’s most fucked up, stained overalls. And that does count farmers and mechanics around the world. You take a peek at the progress bar and—how has it jumped up 30% already? It had been dragging just a minute ago! There’s now no way you can slip away into something better, and of course you couldn’t have gone anyway.

The noise from overhead changes, and there’s an error sound, sharp and blunt, followed by the mechanical squeak of the monitor getting jerked back around to Gemma. “Anika, can you grab the thingie?”

“The thingie?”

Gemma gestures vaguely behind her and Sun, who is standing frozen, rays partially retracted as he stares at the table. Anika zips off to find whatever it is Gemma needs, but you’re turning away again, watching as the spare daycare attendant unit twitches.

“Sun?” you ask, stepping closer. The animatronic twitches again, one hand, then a whole leg, spastic and out of control like it’s being electrocuted in bits and pieces. Their rays start to poke out, then snap back into place with an audible click. One gets stuck, tangled up in white and blue fabric. “Moon, Sun, it’s okay,” you say, voice barely audible over their fans starting and immediately going into overdrive. “You’re safe. It’s me.”

“Sunshine!” Sunny’s voice breaks when you are close enough to touch the twitching attendant’s foot.

Your ears pop as the doors open, and you twitch, turning just enough to hold out a hand. “Sunny, it’s okay. I know but… they’re glitching out. I think they’re going to Eclipse.”

“All the more reason to stay away!”

“You stay there if it makes you comfortable, but if they’re Eclipsing…” You turn back in time to catch the rays spring out, a handful caught in the hat, shredding into it. “I’m staying. Sun? Moon?”

There’s no reply from the animatronic, just more twitching and spasming. You want to free the rays from their hat, but this early model has no silicone softening the metal edges. They’re just a bunch of very dull knives and with no consciousness controlling their movements. You settle for touching their shoe instead, feeling the twitching of their actuators. Are they in pain? Can they feel anything at all?

“Hey, be careful in there! I’m unplugging the cords now and sometimes they can be a little whippy.” You grimace, pulling away as far as you could without relinquishing your touch over the moon patch. You give a thumbs up without looking away.

The cords are a little whippy, jerking away from the table and snapping back into the ceiling with such force that it makes them look alive. You hate Parts and Services.

“We’re at ninety percent now. Sunny, if you can step back? We don’t know how they’ll react to another Attendant hovering.”

“Right… right.” Sunny’s voice is closer, and you’re surprised to find he’d crept well inside the cylinder, the distance between the two of you halved. He holds his hands up, retreating back to the door. You stare and he gives a timid little shrug, his faceplate tilted towards the now waking animatronic.

You’ve been around FazCo branded animatronics for ten years now, been in love with one, this one, for almost as long. Even in a new body, even Eclipsed, you know they’re waking from the change in their fans, slowing briefly with a little click clatter click before returning to overdrive. The foot under your hand twitches one last time before stilling and pulling away.

There’s static, climbing up your arm and into your mind as you look up. There’s static there too, a thin, trembling stream from Eclipse’s hidden speakers. They’re staring at you, eyes locked on. You shift, and they shift, ever so slightly, eyes tracking the scars visible on your face.

“Eclipse?” you ask, holding a hand up as they start to answer. “No, it’s okay. I-I am happy to see you. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re both safe, right?”

You have to walk around the table. They still watch you, hands limp at their side until you reach for the nearest one. They flinch away, dragging their hand into their lap, claws catching on the coarse material of their waist ruffle. Once, a long time ago, you’d asked about those claws and Moon had explained they used to play stringed instruments, just like the glamrocks did now.

“You won’t hurt me,” you tell them, taking their hand anyway and squeezing it so hard you can feel a joint in your wrist pop. You toy with one of the claws with your thumb, worrying the little gear that makes it flip back into their fingers, sighing softly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

You look up to see them staring at you, and despite things, you give a little laugh. A wet laugh, something sticking in your throat uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you Moon.”

You don’t know how or when, but a cold hand brushes over the ruined half of your face, stroking the skin just under your eye. It pulls back, metal shiny with tears. You laugh again, hiccuping and holding your free hand up to your face as you force yourself to calm down. “I’m okay. I’m here. You’re here. I missed you so much you big stupid dummy.”

You can’t wait any longer, so you throw yourself at Eclipse, worming your hands under their arms, tucking your face carefully under their faceplate, away from the metal rays. They can’t see you crying like this, but it’s an ugly messy, human thing and their neck ruffle is horrifically itchy. The slow weight of hands on your back make you sob, voice breaking.

There’s a few minutes that are likely very awkward for everyone not currently on or half on the cylinder’s table, but you don’t notice any change until there are claws digging in your back. “Eclipse,” you mumble, lifting your head, but the hands pin you to their torso. “Eclipse, what’s wrong?”

“I-it might be me!” Sunny’s voice trips over itself. “I, we, all of us wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“I’m okay,” you say, a little too softly at first. You feel up for Eclipse’s cheek, stroking it gently. “‘Clips, let me up. Sunny isn’t going to hurt us.”

The hands dig, and you can feel those claws in your skin, but they loosen as you continue to push up. You settle on the table a little awkwardly, perched to avoid hurting Eclipse with your weight. You wipe at your eye, trying to clear your vision, before taking Eclipse’s hand again. “Sorry Sunny. I know things aren’t going as planned but…” You clear your throat, smiling weakly. “Sunny, this is Clips. They Daycare Attendant from my old plex. Eclipse, this is Sunny. He’s the Daycare Attendant here in Sandusky. He uh, he helped convince me it was worth trying to save you.” You hesitate. “He and his Moon went through it too,” you say more softly. Eclipse’s grip tightens on you and Sunny grimaces. “We’ll talk about it later, when everyone’s recovered. Sunny, move.” You gesture and he gives you a confused look before stepping out of the way.

Anika and Gemma are staring through the thick plexi of the cylinder. Gemma’s mouth is hanging open, but Anika looks vaguely smug. You hold up your entwined hands in a wave. “That’s Gemma and Anika. Gemma helped get this body back online and you in it, and Anika helped me save you. We saved you.” Oh, you’re starting to cry again.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Gemma’s voice is clipped, and she turns her monitor back to you. You can just barely see some graphs and charts, but the orangey-red lines, and the continued strain of Eclipse’s fans clue you in before Gemma can.

“Oh, oh, Eclipse, you need to restart with just one of you fronting.” You turn back to them, catching them staring at you once again. You twist around to hold their face, stroking over the edge and the craters, finding the large swirl of an eyebrow before you reach their hat. They flinch as you pull at it. “I know. But I’ll stay right here the entire time. I won’t even let go of your hand.”

“Sunshine, that’s—”

“I’m staying right here Sunny,” you say, a little more sharply than you meant to sound, but the intent remains. You don’t look away from Eclipse, leaning forward to press a kiss over the moon’s eye. “I am staying right here. You can restart. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Eclipse stares, and there’s a long, long minute where you worry they’re going to refuse until they burn out but finally there’s a soft stream of static and a nod. Eclipse leans forward as you pull on their hat, freeing it incrementally from their rays. The light from their eyes dims and goes out, their fans slowing a couple minutes later. You pull the hat free successfully, their hand slipping from yours as you check over the fabric. It’s torn and greasy where it’d gotten caught in the gears, but you can probably fix it, if they want. Or perhaps you’ll be able to get help remaking their old hat, if that’s what they preferred.

“Is everything all right?” Sunny’s voice is quiet, and his hand is soft as it rests on your shoulder. You twitch but don’t pull away, watching your attendant’s faceplate intently for any flicker of light. “They’ll turn on again.”

“I know they will. But will they be able to let go? It’s got to be Moon, I think. It’s always been more willing to take control.” Sunny’s gentle verbal prodding compels you to continue. “Sun’s a softie, even if she does have a spine about the rules, her rules. The ones that are important to her. She tried so hard…” You trail off into a cough, swallowing back the lump wrong and making it worse on yourself. You have to wipe at your eyes again, sniffing hard. “But if Moon is scared or upset, they might Eclipse again.”

The startup is quieter, so you miss it in your talking to Sunny, until you feel more than hear the thrum of the animatronic’s inner workings. Sunny steps back, out of reach, when the rays retract, one at a time, jerkily, like the mechanism controlling them is unfamiliar to the Moon currently in control. Because it’s Moon who is waking up now, and it’s Moon’s gravelly voice that lets out a surprised noise when you immediately push into a hug.

“Starlight?”

The nickname is enough to make you cry again, and you squeeze him so tightly your arms hurt. “I’m here Moony. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”

#dca au #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #constellations au #fnaf dca #dca #dca fandom #moon fnaf #sun fnaf #eclipse fnaf #dca ocs #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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shisurus · 1 month

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can't stop thinking about dungeon meshi btw. how it comes down to being able to appreciate the hard and painful times because of the moments of happiness you experienced along the way.

it's about falin being able to forgive and look beyond the harsh way things were done- be it their father announcing he will send her away from the village or laios leaving her behind- partly due to her personality, and how she used to prioritize her loved ones' needs and emotions over her own, but also because of the positive impact that road eventually had on her. she knows her family was trying to protect her but what truly made it impossible to regret the path she had to take were the precious memories she made later on- it was learning magic and seeing new places and becoming friends with marcille and of course she couldn't hate it all, she was happy. it's about laios feeling so utterly miserable because on his end, it seemed like nothing good or enjoyable happened to him after leaving home, aside from the letters written by falin. but how long can a child be satisfied with another's happiness which he never got to experience himself?

so it really is beautiful that the series started off with him realizing that this journey allowed him to finally feel that happiness he was yearning for-

-and ended with everyone else realizing it too. when you first read chapter 11 it's just a funny gag about people not understanding laios, but it genuinely was too early for them to share his sentiment. they needed to come to terms with it on their own, with chilchuck opening up to them and senshi resolving the hovering mystery of his past and izutsumi freeing herself and joining their party and marcille facing her greatest fear. the winged lion was taking advantage of the loneliness and anger and pain lingering in laios's heart, but even it couldn't deny this. how, despite everything, he couldn't be satiated and his own happiness couldn't be complete without his friends' happiness too. how it was always about everyone enjoying a meal together.

and then there's marcille, who refused to admit it until the very end. it's in the way she had such a hard time fully accepting eating monsters despite how tasty she found them, not just due to how weird they were but also because she tried rejecting and burying her own pleasure and joy during this entire journey. from the very beginning, she was only willing to endure the pain and suffering.

as if she couldn't accept feeling an ounce of comfort, satisfaction, let alone happiness while falin was suffering on her own. and it might've been laios's reaction as well if all of this had happend a decade ago- i mean, that's exactly what he did back then. blaming himself for leaving her behind, being tormented by her loneliness and absence while falin was actually slowly moving towards a brighter future. it was him that was stuck, not her. but he kept focusing on her pain to ignore how deep the hole in his own heart had become, consumed by guilt to ignore his own agony, or to make sense of it- because maybe he did deserve it after all he had done.

and for that reason marcille was so terrified of admitting there was warmth in what she considered the depths of hell. because it would mean accepting falin going ahead of her and leaving her behind, accepting the inevitable she was trying so hard to deny and the end of her dream.

but it was learning there's joy even in her worst nightmare that allowed her to finally embrace those moments of pleasure that made her life worth living, however short they were. she realized that her pursuit would take away the things that truly mattered to her, that if she had succumbed to her fear of loss she would've been the one hurting her loved ones, just as happened to thistle. laios asking her to use ancient magic for falin's resurrection and then encouraging her to not give up on her desires during the nightmare chapter was a direct parallel to delgal being the one to push thistle down the road of destruction, while both marcille and thistle were trying to protect the people most important to their friends.

but in marcille's case, laios was able to understand her at the end, pulling her back just before she descended to complete ruin. it's truly fascinating how the story is not only about laios being understood but also getting to understand others properly, deeply- it's about mutual understanding, the balance between two people he never managed to maintain before. and i think it's only after seeing thistle's tragedy that he was able to fully realize what might become of marcille down the line. so while delgal put the weight of the world on thistle's shoulders, laios was the one to tell marcille she doesn't have to do that. because even if falin's resurrection hadn't succeeded, they both already know- there's happiness even in the dungeon's pit. and it's by preparing a hearty meal made of her loved one's remains that marcille was able to truly accept it- thus allowing herself to enjoy it to the fullest, embracing the cycle of life, no matter how weird or painful or grotesque it is.

#and chil was weirded out by how marcille of all people was truly delighted while eating falin 😭#the character development through mealssss #dungeon meshi #marcille donato #laios touden #falin touden

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genderqueerdykes · 1 year

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small observations for people who are just starting testosterone HRT

If you suffer from chronic fatigue, chronic illness, or mental illness, you may notice that your energy levels dip down very low after first starting T. this is due your body needing extra energy to process the extra hormones, not anything long lasting. after your body adjusts, this fatigue will go away, and you may actually find that you have way, way more energy now

Beards love to be patchy and mustaches love to be invisible or nonexistent at first. if your beard is patchy at first, or if you just can't grow a full mustache, this is also normal. it can take years of testosterone HRT for beards to become full, especially if you had low T to begin with. moisturizing your beard regularly can help reduce this, and also any potential itchiness from being too long. beards will get itchy for many if they get long.

The acne (should) go away after your body adjusts, and you will not be greasy forever. you will find that your natural body odor smells different, though. this lasts as long as you are on T, as far as i'm aware for most people, but it's only noticeable for me when i get very sweaty after a lot of exertion, or illness.

You may find after you adjust that you have generally a bit more stamina or ease with starting up or adjusting to new physical activities after you've adjusted. it may be easier for you to work out now because you don't become fatigued as easy, for example, or you may find it is easier for you to put on muscle density.

The mood swings will calm down in time- they are most severe right after you start T, and then taper down as your body adjusts. it doesn't turn you into a "rage monster". you just go through normal pubescent moodiness. it's manageable, especially if you have good coping skills like physical activity, journaling, or art while stressed.

Libido goes either way, i've noticed. many people see a huge spike in libido at first, sometimes it stays for a long time, other people don't notice any change whatsoever. also, T for most people will not change what gender or type of person you are attracted to, however it can change how you view yourself in relationships and lead you to changing your identity labels, or questioning things. it generally doesn't make people change their identities overnight, though

Periods do stop for the vast majority of transmascs. it can take a long time, but they do stop if your doseage of T is right for you. if yours haven't stopped and you do not have reproductive health issues, you likely just need a higher dose to see this effect.

Breast tissue reduces in density when higher levels of testosterone are in the body, so it is very likely that you will see your breasts become flatter or even "Deflate" a bit. this is entirely normal. my chest has been like this my entire life due to very high T from hyperandrogenism & intersexuality

Balding can definitely happen, but this is generally only if you have a genetic predisposition to it. i have actually not seen many transmascs bald, although for many of us, our hairlines do shift upwards, but it's not noticeable unless you compare how you look now to older pics of yourself, and generally it takes years for your hairline to migrate anyway, which is natural for AMAB people later in life anyway. even if you do bald, you can speak with your prescriber and have access to medications to help with balding. it's not the end of the road and many respond very well to medication.

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sweet-as-an-angel · 7 months

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Yandere DILF! Reaction to You Having a Boyfriend

Warnings: Yandere Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Age Gap, Suggestive Themes, Stalking, Monitoring, Implied Yandere MILF, Implicit Threats, Implied Blackmail, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

♡ There is no measure of fury capable of being held or produced by Hell and Earth that can rival that which fires through Dominic’s veins.

♡ At first, he didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. That his (Y/N) would sever his heart from his chest and run it into the ground.

♡ He thinks – knows – that you’re being held against your will. That’s the only reasonable explanation for this…lapse in judgement, as he sees it.

♡ However, when he watches you from his window leaping into your male friend’s arms, being swung in a display of greatest enthusiasm, Dominic knows he’s being delusional. A rare instance of self-awareness.

♡ Initially, he considers this a curse; the fact that your heart lay in the hands of another. But, the longer he stewed over this development, considered any and every point that would grant him vantage, he began to see it as liberation. A cover beneath which he could operate until he struck from the bushes, his viperous intent strengthening.

♡ He is still amidst the throws of fury, but his wrath is not directed towards you. Rather, that juvenile sack of meat and electricity you donated your time to.

♡ Dominic knows that your ‘boyfriend’ will never love you like he does; that you won’t understand how boys are interested in one thing only. Dominic should know; he’d been a young man once. His psychology was his greatest burden and insight.

♡ He starts taking note of your new, adjusted schedule; the days you reserve for your dates – a long-dead excursion in Dominic’s eyes, not having felt any excitement on a ‘date’ aside from his chance encounters with you.

♡ He follows you, sees which restaurants, cinemas, arcades, shopping centres you enter. And, when the moment is right, when he sees the two of you at the pinnacle of happiness, he acts.

♡ In whatever way he can, he breaks up your dates, saying how it’s “Crazy that you’re here, (Y/N) – what a coincidence,”

♡ When you introduce him to your boyfriend, he flashes a smile only he can see is disingenuous. Grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and shaking it with enough force to give the impression that your boyfriend is weak – boneless – compared to Dominic, the former of the two taken off-balance.

♡ “Better watch your step there, Kid,” he says. There’s grit in the road of his voice, but you’re piloting an aircraft. Your boyfriend is on a bicycle.

♡ “You’re no use to (Y/N) broken,” he jokes. Something flashes behind his eyes. “Or dead.”

♡ He insists that he drop the two of you home. He knows neither of you drove here.

♡ You can’t say no to your favourite neighbour, who lets you sit in the front seat while he makes your tag-along sit in the back like an animal. An outcast.

♡ Anything to make him look weak. Undesirable. The runt of the proverbial litter.

♡ Dominic drops you home. Tells you he’ll be back soon. And, without asking for directions, begins his embarkation to your boyfriend’s home.

♡ Neither say a word to each other. Seemingly aware of their position in each other’s world.

♡ Pulling up outside your third wheel’s house, Dominic leaves him with only a parting phrase.

♡ “Imagine what else I know about you. What little secrets you’ve been keeping.” He serves a frozen stare in the rearview mirror. “If you leave (Y/N) alone, you’ll never have to find out.”

♡ You never saw your boyfriend again after that. Never heard a peep from him over text, never received a call, never even saw him walk down the street.

♡ Of course, you were confused. But more so, you felt uprooted. Forcibly extracted from the life of someone you cared deeply about. Someone who, evidently, didn’t care as much about you.

♡ Eventually, after monitoring you for those first three weeks, those three, long weeks where every inch was laden with shattered glass and stretched on into infinity, Dominic came to you.

♡ Offered you comfort.

♡ He only wished he could have come sooner, but he knew you’d just react with anger. An emotion he couldn’t risk you feeling towards him, even for a second.

♡ And, just as he’d rehearsed a million times, just as he’d lay in bed, sat in his office losing himself to the phantom of your fleeting warmth he’d patchworked together into a blanket from your previous encounters, he came to your door. Knocked. Entered your home. Opened his arms to you.

♡ And the collective euphoria from his every vivid daydream couldn’t compare to the electric joy which made his heart stop. Resuscitated him.

♡ Your head was to his chest before he could encase you in his embrace. He lay his arms upon you, the snake to your Eve, and held you.

♡ “It’s okay, Darling,” he said, his voice low, as if his wife could hear from across the street. Or from the camera she’d implanted into that new vase she’d bought you last week.

♡ You twitched in his arms with every sob. Dominic could feel your tears soaking through his shirt. His now-favourite shirt. One which he’d never wash again.

♡ In his languid daydreams, he’d imagined you thanking him thoroughly for his kindness, his empathy, professing how you’d been so blind to his love before submitting to him entirely.

♡ But, for now, this victory was enough. To have you as close as you’d ever been, your body curled into his chest as he ran a hand through your hair, your warmth leaking into him.

♡ His warmth that he wanted to see leaking out of you.

♡ His lips to your hair, he resisted the tempestuous temptation to take you now. At your most vulnerable, most suggestible. Your most submissive.

♡ To show you that he can please you in ways no mere boy can.

♡ Instead, he took to trying not to inhale your scent, replace one vice with another, to not replenish his memory of you anew.

♡ “I’m here. I’m here.”

♡ His voice is soft, feather-light. It belies all he has done to get to where he is now.

♡ And all he will do to get to where he needs to be.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 months

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✧ 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 || jack hughes ♔

summary: jack calls his mom in tears and on the brink of a panic attack because he messed up, and all he wants is for his girl to come back to him. and with a little help from ellen, he knows exactly what to do for that to happen.

warnings: sad jack, asshole-ish jack (implied), one very mild mention of dark thoughts, sad, fights

publish date: 02/11/24

notes: i like how this is my first jack fic and i made him an asshole (kind of, it's implied). anyways as soon as i started writing this i was in love with my writing (in a non-conceited way). like just the way the story flowed had me dying. there’s also only one thing of dialogue at the beginning for a while but i promise there is some at the end, i got side tracked while writing. BUT THIS IS GOOD I PROMISE! (and there's a little fluff at the end) based off of this ask that i got a while ago -> idea! add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

“Mom I think I really fucked up.”

Jack was in tears as he sat with his back against the door to his bedroom. His room was messy, with pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, suit jackets flung across his bed, and take-out containers on his nightstand, but the only thing he was focused on was the cardboard box that was set less than a foot in front of him. It had a card resting on top of it, his name written in the tiniest of letters. He could faintly smell her perfume on the sweatshirts and shirts that were left inside.

When he walked out of his room, the box was something he wasn’t expecting to see. It was resting in Luke’s hands when he walked out, proceeding to ask what it was. When Luke said it was from her, he grabbed it and ran back into his room, shutting and closing the door behind him. He had only managed to get one flap of the box open before he started crying uncontrollably.

He had seen the gray material, the logo of his team branded on it. He had backed himself up against the door and tried to collect himself and failed. Deep in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have the right to be acting like this, he had been the one to end it. Yet, seeing the aftermath without her made him realize what he had truly lost.

The nights when he came home from a game that they won, she wasn’t there to congratulate him, to celebrate with him, to let him hold her. The nights when he came home from a game that they lost, she wasn’t there to console him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to run her fingers through his hair. The mornings that he woke up and felt lonely and cold because she wasn’t in his arms, she wasn’t there to pepper his face with little kisses. She wasn’t there to wake him up in the middle of the night because she was hungry or because she had this genius idea. She wasn’t there to cook dinner for him and Luke when that was all they needed after a long day. She wasn’t there to help him pack and unpack for a road trip. She wasn’t there to help him pick out what suit to wear for the game. She wasn’t there at all anymore.

The thoughts plagued him, angered him, saddened him, hurt him. For some reason, these thoughts never came up before, never this strong. Seeing the things that had been hers, became hers, and weren’t his hurt him. It made him realize what he had done, and what he had done was real. He couldn’t help the new thoughts that came to his mind, the ones that called him stupid, the ones who called him an idiot, the ones that were dark enough that he hated himself for those too.

When he found himself finding it hard to breathe he reached for his phone, calling Ellen. Ellen was not expecting those words when she picked up the phone. No one had known about their breakup, no one had known about Jack’s words that he said to her that night, no one had known about the way she tried to fight but he refused to even listen to her.

Everyone knew that the two were off, however. Jack hadn’t been performing well, barely even getting a couple of shots on goal during games. He had gotten into a few fights, mostly because he was stressed and every little thing someone did set him off. He didn’t go out to celebrate with the team after a win, he distanced himself from everyone including his brother.

She, on the other hand, hadn’t talked to anyone in the past two weeks. She never went to the apartment anymore, she didn’t reach out to Luke or the team at all, and she never drove Jack and Luke to games anymore, it was like she disappeared. In reality, she had been huddled up in her apartment, tears ending up on every piece of clothing she wore, they ended up on the sheets too. There was an abundance of tissues in a plastic bag that rested on the left side of her bed. Her TV had been playing nothing but sad romance movies; The Notebook, Irreplaceable You, All the Bright Places, The Fault in Our Stars, and Five Feet Apart were a few. She hadn’t moved from her spot unless she had to go to the bathroom.

Her main source of food was the snacks that she brought into her bedroom almost every other day. Sometimes if she was feeling up for it, she would order something and wait for it in the living room. She hadn’t attempted to cook, reminding her too much of when she did it for him. She hadn’t understood why he did it, what prompted him to do it, what prompted the thoughts, what she had done wrong to make him feel differently about him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow her to talk, allow them to talk it through. It was a messy night, his voice was doing the abundance of the talking.

He had yelled at her for no reason. They had been sitting in the living room peacefully and she had commented on going out for dinner. It wasn’t the comment that set him off, he had been in his mind for the majority of the night prior to that moment. He didn’t know what brought these feelings on but he had to get them out. He had screamed for about ten minutes while she sat in silence tearing up. She had attempted to fight for them, saying she was sorry for god knows what. She had attempted to get an answer out of him but was met with silence. She had stormed out after 5 minutes of pleading, leaving Jack as alone as she felt.

Jack receiving the package was the first form of communication they had had in two weeks. And that had really put things into perspective for him. He had babbled all of this to Ellen, having to take breaks a lot to control his sobs and breathing. Ellen felt absolutely heartbroken as she listened to her son cry. She knew what he had done wrong, it was painfully obvious, but the amount of tears that she could hear from him made her sympathetic towards him.

Nonetheless, Ellen set him straight, not that he needed to be anyway, he knew he was wrong from the moment she left him sitting there. She had done her best to calm him down beforehand, Jack’s mind still in overdrive. He took in everything his mom said, agreeing with every point she made about him being wrong. She spoke in a gentle yet strict tone, letting him know that she felt sorry for him but what he did was horrible. He knew that and listening to his mom say it too made it feel all the worse.

When Ellen hung up, Jack was once again left alone with the silence and his thoughts. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, yet he wasn’t in the right place to go and get her back. He thought he would just go over there and make it worse, make it so she would never want him back. So he walked out into the living room and looked at his brother who was watching TV, acting as if he had heard nothing.

Jack plopped himself down next to him on the couch. He went to say something but he could feel another wave of tears coming. He went to stand up but Luke pulled him down, not wanting him to be alone anymore either. Jack buried his head into his younger brother’s shoulder and sobbed, slightly embarrassed but too sad to worry about it.

✧༺✎༻∞

The next morning, Jack woke up with a pounding headache but he knew he needed to get his shit together. He took the box y/n had sent him and taped it back up, not taking one single thing out of there. He dressed in her favorite outfit of his, deciding he’d at least look how she liked him too. He even washed his hair, knowing how much she loved it when it was soft and looked like a fluffy mop on top of his head.

He knew that no matter how good he made himself look, it would have almost no impact on the outcome of this conversation. He knew how much he had hurt her and how much trust he had to earn back. He knew that no matter how many gifts he bought or made would ever make up for it, but that didn’t stop him from buying her favorite ice cream and flowers and making her a card.

He drove to her apartment and jumped out of the car as soon as he got there, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open the door. It took a few minutes before he had to knock again and this time, she opened it seconds later, “What?”

“Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk.”

“Oh so-”

“Yes. “So now I want to talk.” Please y/n/n.” He cut her off, immediately knowing what she was going to say. His puppy dog eyes were out in full force and she didn’t know whether or not it was on purpose or a subconscious habit of his when he asked for something he wanted.

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stand his eyes any longer. She turned around and walked further into her apartment, waiting for Jack to follow her. When he stepped in, his heart stopped at the broken glass that lay in the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes as he shut the door. He watched as she sat down and wrapped a blanket around her.

Before he got there, she had been watching another sad movie, Kiss and Cry this time. She had been caught off guard when she heard the knock and only wished it would go away. However, when she heard it again, she got up and opened it, feeling both upset and frustrated at who was there. Hearing the way his voice broke when he talked also aided in her decision to let him in. She felt sad when he sat down next to her and reached out to place his hand on her thigh like an instant reaction. He retracted it as soon as it made contact with the blanket, nervous that she would yell at him.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in preparation, “I’m sorry. And I know that no matter what I say, or how much I tell you I’m sorry, it won’t be enough. It won’t justify what I did, but just hear me out please.”

She nodded, allowing him to go on. The look on his face showed the gratitude he had for her response, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Truthfully I don’t know why I said what I said. I think I must’ve been nervous about our future together but I feel like that’s just an excuse at that point. I don’t know what I was thinking, believe me. And I’m sorry I didn’t let us even try to talk it out, to let you talk. I- I just- To be honest, I really don’t know, y/n.

“ I feel so lost right now, I hated you not being there. I hated not being able to come home from a game and celebrate with you when we won or have you comfort me when we lost. I hated not being able to wake up and you were the first thing I saw. I hated not being able to make dinner with you or play pranks on Luke or having you wake me up in the middle of the night because you had the most random epiphany.” He gave her a little laugh, “I hated not knowing that you were okay.”

She had been looking at the ground the whole time he spoke until he said that. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them harboring tears in their eyes. She knew that he meant it, she knew that he didn’t mean anything he said two weeks ago. At first, when she initially thought he would come to her apartment to plead for her back, she wasn’t going to accept the ‘I don’t know’ excuse, but she could tell that he really didn’t know why he did it.

She reached out to hold his hand, toying with his fingers, “I believe you, Jack. And I’m not going to say it’s okay because it’s not, but I know when you mean something, Jack. I know that you didn’t have a reason to lash out.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “But it’s going to take a while for this to get back to how it was between us.”

“And I know that, and I’m willing to take it at your pace, and communicate with you more, and be there for you more.”

She nodded and turned away slightly to look at the TV, “You wanna finish this movie with me?”

He smiled and nodded, following her request to sit next to her. Jack had thought back to the moment when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and remembered the broken glass, “Are you okay?”

“Now I am, why?”

“Because there was broken glass in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah. I knocked it off yesterday? Maybe the day before, I don’t remember. Hadn’t had the opportunity to pick it back up.”

Jack went over and picked it up in case she was to forget and got up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water. When he got back, she laid her head on his chest and played with one of the strings from his hoodie, “This is my favorite hoodie.”

He nodded again, rubbing her back, “I know.”

“And you washed your hair.”

He felt his face flush at the realization that she had figured out what he was trying to do, “Did you think that the way you looked would convince me to take you back?”

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged a little, “A little.”

She sat up and kissed him, “You’re lucky it did, Hughes.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before y/n looked up at him, “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?” The name was a force of habit and he went to apologize but when he looked down he saw her grinning at him.

“When can I get those sweatshirts back?”

Jack let out a laugh, “They’re in my car, didn’t even take them out of the box. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes please.” He went to move her off of him but she clung to him, missing how warm he felt in the past two weeks, “You gotta let go of me baby if you want them.”

She shook her head, snuggling deeper into them, “You want this one?”

She just nodded and briefly let go of him, allowing him to take it off. He slipped it over her head and then opened his arms so she could lay back on him, which she did immediately. They continued watching and she felt a tear hit her head, looking up in worry, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He sniffled and wiped his tears off his face with his left hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just missed you, is all.”

She only smiled and hugged him tighter, both of them falling asleep minutes later with how comfortable they felt with one another.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader

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bleedingoptimism · 12 days

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part one -> 📱💞🚙

part two -> 📱💞🚙

It only takes a week for Steve to show up at this door again. He knocks on the door late at night and he’s panting as if he’s run all the way there, “I had to see you” he says and it's overdramatic and kind of romantic, and Eddie barely resists the urge to jump in his arms and kiss him. Or check if there’s a filming crew and it’s raining because of how much this feels like a movie, but it’s a beautiful night outside.

“Come in,” he tells Steve, immediately turning and running around the living room, throwing away empty food containers and tidying up a bit.

Steve watches him amused, but stands by the door, hands in his pockets, “So…” he says, “Came home today to find Chrissy, Vicky, and Robin all sitting at my dining table with their heads buried in a phone”

Eddie looks up at that, because what the fuck? He looks at Steve confused and Steve nods, like he agrees with Eddie.

“The three of them lifted their head at the same time, it was kind of freaky honestly,” He keeps going and Eddie chuckles, curious as to where this is going, “They wanted me to see this,” Stevee finishes, lifting his phone up, the first episode of the van series playing, right at the part were Eddie first sees Steve and blushes while looking at him.

Back in reality Eddie is blushing again too, Steve saw the van series, he knows. Steve knows. “Steve…” he starts even though he has no idea what he’s gonna say.

But Steve doesn't let him try, doesn't let him think. He takes two long steps towards Eddie and kisses him, hard but short, pulls away holding Eddie’s face between his hands, and brings their forehead together,

“I didn't know,” he breathes.

Eddie shakes his head, “How could you not, I was so obvious I-”

Steve just kisses him again, once more short and sweet before pulling back, “You never said.”

Eddie wraps his hands over Steve's wrists, just holding them there, moving his thumb over Steve’s pulse slowly. He can feel how hard Steve’s heart is beating, can feel it match the rhythm of his own heart. And he wracks his brain, trying to remember if he ever did ask Steve out, or if he ever stated he liked him out loud.

He ends up laughing at the stupidity of it. Everyone knew Eddie loved Steve, except Steve, “I’m- I don't what to say. I'm sorry I-” he starts but Steve shuts him up with a kiss again, “It’s okay, I know now”

This time when they kiss, Eddie doesn't let Steve keep it short. He keeps him close, kissing him deeper, harder, longer, until he doesn't know where he begins and Steve stops.

The next day a new video gets uploaded. “Goooood morning!” Eddie says, even though it is clearly noon, from the passenger seat of his van, “Guess who is ready for their road trip!” he smiles and pulls the phone away from him, so both he and Steve are in frame. Steve is driving, eyes on the road but a huge smile on his face, Eddie’s hand is clearly visible on Steve’s thigh in the shot before Eddie moves the phone back to his face, “We’ll keep updating you guys, can’t tell you exactly where we are going cause we’d like a little privacy,” he says and wiggles his eyebrows, a soft gasp and a whispered and heated ‘Eddie!’ is heard in the background, “But we will upload videos from where we’ve been in a few weeks!” he films Steve once more, who looks at Eddie with a big sappy enamored smile on his face and then films the road for a few seconds, the world passing by the window. Finally, he twists the phone back to his face and says, “Oh! And don't worry about who’s going to drive… we’ll switch” and he winks and ends the video.

the end

☕🥐💕 coffee? by a roadhouse?

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #modern au #rv au #i wrote something #this was so fun guys i hope yall like the end #yall are so sweet i love it here

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padfootagain · 4 months

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The Car Trap

Hi!!!!! Here I am again, back to my old antics! Yes, I’m adding one more person to my masterlist. Yes, I am going to hell for this, and you know what? I’ll have such a great time!

Anyway, no one asked for this, except for me, as I was desperate for some Hozier fics, and couldn’t find any new ones anymore! So, here we go! Hope you like this, let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, angst to fluff! Friends to lovers, snowed-in… in a car… *hihihihihihhi!!!*

Summary: You're offered a job in Switzerland, and you're ready to accept it. It would offer you a new beginning, a way to forget about the love you have for your best friend. But a trip through a snowstorm with Andrew might change everything...

Word Count: 7282

Hozier’s Masterlist - Main Masterlist

This trip was a disaster.

A fucking, outrageously terrible disaster…

The weather was terrible, for a start. And that was a statement made with an Irish reference, which was saying a lot. It had been raining so hard you had to stop the car for a while as you could not see the road ahead at all. Then it was time for so much wind that your fingers were cramping over the strength used to hold the wheel. Four hours later, it was getting dark, the sun already setting and the sky heavy with clouds that blocked all sunlight. And it was snowing.

Fucking snowing.

Great. Wonderful. Lovely.

Oh, but if only the problem was held by the capricious weather… no… no, this was but a part of the issue. You could even say that this was the top of the iceberg, just a tiny fraction of the shit you were buried under.

Because your phone had died. But then again, you had no signal anyway to get the help of a friendly and absolutely annoying GPS; and in the passenger seat by your side, your best friend was struggling with a fifteen-year old map that was so out-of-date that it might as well have not existed for the help it got you…

You were lost. You were fucking lost, in the middle of nowhere, while it was getting dark and snowing and there was nothing manmade in sight to ask for help.

Wonderful. Truly, wonderful.

Oh, and that was without mentioning that the best friend in question was also the man you had been in love with for years but had never dared confess your feelings to.

Outrageously bad, that road trip, really…

Andrew picked up his phone to get some more light, his glasses perched haphazardly on his nose as he tried to decipher names printed on the large map splayed across his laps; hair held back in a low bun, allowing you to see his focused features.

“So?”

He merely hummed in response, a long finger following a dark line.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” you insisted.

“None whatsoever,” he shook his head.

He sat back in his seat, before rubbing his eyes.

“I mean… we’ll end up crossing a village at one point if we keep going along this road,” he sighed. “I don’t have a better plan for now.”

“We might have to stop at one point, though. The snow is getting heavy.”

“I had never envisioned dying from the cold in the middle of nowhere on some random Irish road…” Andrew joked, his tone almost contemplative, and you couldn’t refrain a chuckle.

“And with you! Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m dying with you, of all people.”

“Why not? You don’t want to see me dying?”

“I don’t want my last moments to be shared with someone as annoying as you.”

He tried to throw back some witty remark, but his laughter was too much to handle.

He had pushed back the seat as far as possible, of course, in an attempt to accommodate his long limbs, but even in this position, his legs were not fully extended before him, his knees hitting the dashboard at every bump of the road.

You forced your gaze to go back to the road again, squinting your eyes to see through the heavy snow that fell now, instead of lingering on his legs.

God… you were so damn ridiculous…

His quiet rumble of a laugh finally died out, but a smile remained set on his features, even though his tone was serious as he spoke again.

“We can still turn the engines on every once in a while to get some heat.”

“Won’t that drain the battery or something?”

“If we don’t do it too much, it should be fine. Besides, it’s not minus twenty outside, relax. We’ll be fine.”

You merely nodded, falling, as always, for the safety in his quiet voice and the warmth of his tone.

Besides, it was easier to believe in the certainty of his voice, in its soothing sound, than to face the snow falling more and more heavily outside, the night creeping over the distant mountains, right beyond the green fields. Their silhouettes were almost made invisible now by the low light, you could only guess their shadows. Despite the headlights, you could barely make out the stony walls on each side of the road, mostly devoured by ivy and thickets. You had slowed down your pace, driving slowly in fear that a wild animal would suddenly jump in front the car, or that you would miss a random house set by the road.

It was also easier to focus on the silly story he was using to quieten your mind rather than to mention the reason behind this trip across the countryside.

You were leaving.

You were leaving Ireland to settle in Switzerland for a job. Or well, nothing was fixed for now, but you had an amazing opportunity. A first trip to the country to meet your future boss in person was planned for the following week, and at the end of these three days spent in Geneva, you had to sign your contract. You would then have about a month to find a place and move there.

So, you and your best friend had decided to enjoy a little road trip together. Driving all the way to the other side of the country. Staying at an Airbnb near the western coast. Enjoying four days together spent by the sea, the cliffs, and an awful lot of chips and beer.

You had been puzzled by Andrew’s reaction when you told him about your new job. He had seemed… unphased by it.

Of course, with his career, he was often away, and you were used not to live close to each other for long periods of time. Still, you were always one of the first people he visited whenever he was home. And while he stayed in Ireland, you spent most of your time together. As if he wanted to soak in as many moments as he could before he would leave again. And yet, when you told him that you would move to another country, he didn’t even blink. He gave you a smile, congratulated you, offered you a warm hug, and that was it. He asked about the job, about the place where you would live… and that was it. No disappointment in the thought of you leaving. No sadness at the thought of not having you around. No heartbreak whatsoever…

But then again, you were a fool for hoping that he would feel this way. Because he was… Andrew. Absolutely-lovely, amazing-hair, siren-voiced, hilariously-witty, unbearably-gentle Andrew. You had been friendzoned a few weeks after your first encounter, and you had no reason to believe that his feelings had changed. Actually, this new job, you took it as an opportunity to forget him. Move on. And not only because many miles would separate your homes, but because you weren’t leaving on your own.

Another one of your colleagues, Tom, had been approached by the same company as you had. He had already accepted the offer, and he was thrilled when he learned that you were leaving for Geneva as well. You knew he had a crush on you. He was pretty obvious about it. If he had never crossed a line, it was clear that he wanted you to give him a chance. And who knew? Perhaps this new beginning, with another man that you quite frankly found great, could mean you finally moving on from your stupid crush on your best friend. A new start, in another country. After spending a few weeks getting used to this new place, this new corporation, this new workplace… perhaps you would give Tom a chance. You desperately needed to forget Andrew, after all…

Of course, you didn’t know that you were completely, utterly wrong… about everything. That Andrew wanted to cry at the mere thought of you leaving. That he held you too tight and for too long that afternoon when, bathed in the neon light of your kitchen, you told him you were moving so far away from him, because he didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes. He didn’t have the right to hold you back. He was but a friend to you, and friends needed to be supportive, and this was such a great opportunity for you, and… and he was only your friend.

Only your goddamn friend. As if Andrew hadn’t longed to be much more than that after a mere week spent in your company. But you had met before he would leave, touring for his second album, the timing was all wrong. He couldn’t ask you out for a couple of dates just to get you attached to him, before he would disappear for months on the other side of the planet. That wasn’t fair. He wanted to do things the right way. So, he kept his distance at first, unwilling to get too attached himself. But then, when he came home months later… you weren’t single anymore.

The fool… he had lost his chance. And over the years, the two of you had built such a great friendship that he didn’t want to take the risk anymore. Besides, he was certain that you didn’t see him this way. You had been in relationships, he had been in relationships… you had never showed any sign that would make him feel that he was more than a friend to you. Even when he tried to get you jealous, at the beginning, right after your break-up… but it didn’t work. The lure fell into the water in a deafening defeat, and he had made up both his mind and heart. You weren’t interested. He didn’t blame you. With his chaotic lifestyle.. who in their mind would settle for that?

Did it stop Andrew from still being in love with you, even after all this time? No, of course it did not. And the thought that you wouldn’t be home with him anymore…

He looked away, through the window, just to hide the tears that rose to his eyes all over again. He rested his elbow against the cold window, his lips to the back of his hand, biting lightly in the skin to calm down. He had no right to try to hold you back… no right at all… Was it your fault if he was enough of a fool to fall for his best friend? The cliché was almost too much to bear…

When he turned to you again, though, he couldn’t help the warm, fond feeling that invaded his chest at the sight of you. During the moment of silence you were both bathing into, disturbed solely by the wind and the tires over the frozen road, the night had almost conquered the last remnants of sunlight that lingered there, held against the eastern riff of the mountains. The headlights and the dim lights coming from the headboard were enough for him to see your features, though. They were enough for him to long to brush that strand of hair behind your ear, to lean across the car to kiss your cheek, to feel the warmth of your skin, even if for just a second, against his lips…

God, he didn’t want you to leave. What would he do if you left? When would you see each other? Never… If he spent so much time touring and you weren’t home…

God, he would move to Geneva with you if you asked. Even if it were to keep him as a mere friend, that was how badly he needed you in his life…

“Andy… I’m not sure I should keep driving…”

Andrew shook himself out of his thoughts, forced his attention back to the road ahead. You could barely see the road at all, as it was slowly turning white, just like the patches of grass between the road and the low walls…

Andrew shook his head.

“We can’t just stop in the middle of the road either. Just… drive slowly. Let’s try to find somewhere to park.”

You nodded, frowning in your focus.

You kept on driving for a while longer. The night was stark black when you finally found a small space by the road where you could safely park. There was still no house in sight, though… not that you could have seen anything beyond a five meters radius anyway…

You turned off the engine, let the lights go dark. Andrew turned on the light of his phone again.

“You should save some battery,” you argued.

“Got plenty, don’t worry.”

“So… now, what?”

“Now, we wait.”

“And if it keeps on snowing all night? Should we try to get some sleep?”

He merely nodded, setting his phone between the two of you to shed some light all over the tiny space of your car. Andrew reached behind him to get your coats from the backseat.

“We should put these on while they’re still warm.”

You didn’t complain when Andrew unfolded your warm coat, holding it up so you could easily slip your arms inside; nor did you stop him when he straightened it around your frame, reached for the zipper, and closed it for you.

And perhaps it would have been wiser for you to do so… but then again, you were human.

You were still trying to regulate your heartbeat while Andrew was putting on his own coat.

And for the first half-hour, everything was easy. You turned the engines back on for a few minutes when it got too cold, but in such a weather, you were worried your car wouldn’t start with a low battery. After all, it wasn’t exactly brand new.

“What if we get stuck in here?” you asked, worrying about the snow that didn’t give any sign of stopping.

“We’ll freeze to death, probably. At least the cold will preserve our bodies.”

“Good news for the police officer who’s gonna open the door. The smell won’t be too bad.”

“Exactly.”

“How long do you think before they find us?”

“Oh… at least a few weeks, if it snows enough.”

“Don’t you think anyone would notice a car covered in snow by the side of the road?”

“Not if there’s enough snow on it.”

You were the first to break, unable to be serious any longer. And Andrew’s laugh soon found yours, a deep rumble shaking the air around you.

“We won’t get fully snowed in,” Andrew reassured you as your laughter receded, in favour of the hushed quiet of winter. “Don’t worry. Besides, we’re not going to stay here all night. We’ll just wait until the worst of the storm passes. I can drive the rest of the way, if you want.”

“I can keep driving. I think I’ll try to take a nap while we wait though. I need to focus.”

Andrew merely nodded as an answer, adding a soft humming for good measure, before he would offer you a warm smile. He reached for something in his pocket, and put on a beanie and some gloves.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” he added, shifting to get more comfortable, the seatbelt since long discarded.

You tried to do the same, sliding the seat back to get more room to move around. Your eyes settled on Andrew’s features one more time before they closed.

But there was no way you could fall asleep. Beside your troubled mind, you were getting uncomfortably cold again. Enough for your teeth to chatter for a moment, until you tightly set your jaw.

You felt warm skin brush the back of your freezing fingers, heard the low, unapproving humming that Andrew let out at the touch.

“Take these, Y/N.”

You blinked your eyes open, while Andrew was already pushing a glove into your palm.

“You’ll be cold,” you argued, but you were met with a fond glare.

“You are cold.”

You gave up, took the gloves he offered. So large around your hands, the wool soft and still holding the warmth born from his own skin. You tried to stop him from planting his beanie on your head too, but failed.

“You need to stay warm! You’re a singer! You can’t catch a cold!” you tried to argue, but Andrew was already pulling the wool down to cover your ears.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine. Besides, you’re the one who’s always cold.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! Who wears a woollen scarf in June?”

“It was cold!”

“You could turn into an ice cube if left unattended.”

With a great sense of maturity, you stuck out the tip of your tongue, making him chuckle.

It was better, but you were still cold, and so was Andrew now. He was shaking slightly, rubbing his hands together, burying his mouth and nose in his woollen grey scarf to warm it with his breath. But when he tried to shed some light outside again, the snow was still too heavy to drive safely.

“I can’t feel my fucking toes,” he complained, but there wasn’t much that you could do.

Except that you could. It was stupid, probably ineffective, but you were too cold to think straight.

“What if we hugged?”

Andrew let out a laugh.

“I like the sentiment, but that would hardly warm my toes.”

“Isn’t sharing body warmth a surviving technique?”

“Do I look like I would survive in the wild?”

“No, you would either bump your head in a branch so hard you’d knock yourself out to fall right into an endless pit… or you would be spotted by lions from miles away, you and your long limbs…”

“Exactly.”

There was silence again, for a couple of minutes, and you didn’t dare to break it. Instead, you let your eyelids fall again. He had refused to hold you, it was speaking volumes. What if you had made him uncomfortable? What were you expecting anyway? You were just a friend…

A gentle tug on your sleeve made you look up at him.

“Come here.”

“What?”

“We’re both cold, come here. You’re right, body heat sounds like a good idea.”

You joked in an attempt to hide the way your heart jumped in your chest.

“We both know you simply like to be held. Even by me.”

“Anything if I can avoid losing my toes.”

You wished you could claim that the manoeuvre that led you to lie with Andrew was a graceful one, but it truly wasn’t. After bumping into every surface possible and hitting your head against the ceiling twice, you were, however, finally secured in Andrew’s arms.

You moved around a little, trying to get comfortable, but in the tiny space of the passenger seat, there was nowhere for you to lay but on top of him.

If your nerves were getting the better of you at first, you couldn’t help but unwind as Andrew wrapped his arms around your frame, engulfing you within his embrace, pressing you closer to him, even though it didn’t seem possible.

He closed his eyes as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo, but you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice either the way his heart sped up under his ribs, the way his breath caught in his throat. You never seemed to notice. Andrew reckoned that he was pretty obvious, although he did try to hide it all, but you never noticed anything. He couldn’t hide it, though. Even if this would lead nowhere, even if he didn’t stand a chance, he couldn’t help it. Loving you. In all the years he had known you, he had never been able to help it. Perhaps that was what love was all about. Loving beyond reason. Loving even when he wished he didn’t. Loving, and hurting, and having no regrets about it. Hurting, and being willing to go through all this pain all over again, for just a moment more…

He heaved a sigh without noticing, his eyelids lifting to be faced by a wall of darkness spotted with white snowflakes. He was ridiculous. You were leaving, that was the final proof he needed to be certain that he was nothing but a friend to you. If you felt anything for him, you wouldn’t be leaving… right? He had not left. He could have moved to the US a thousand times over, but you were in Ireland. Of course, you weren’t the only reason for him to stay, but you were easily the most important one, the one that carried the most weight.

What was the point of going home after a tour or a long recording session, if home wasn’t where you were?

Pathetic. That was what he was, pathetic…

Besides, you deserved better than what he could offer. Waiting for him for months on end? A constant back-and-forth between nations, a life stuck in a suitcase? No… no, you deserved better than that. Better than what he could offer you. Better than him…

And you were leaving. Final proof…

He held you tighter, and almost released it all in a breath.

Don’t go. Please, don’t go…

“Andy?”

He merely hummed in response.

“I’m pretty sure this is doing nothing to keep us warm.”

“I think it helps.”

“We’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Are you offering a game of strip-poker or something?”

You didn’t look up at him, face still buried in his shoulder, and yet he knew you were rolling your eyes.

“I must be crushing you.”

“You’re breaking all my bones, indeed.”

You tried to move away, but his hold tightened, and he looked down at you with confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving your life? Avoiding you to be crushed to death?”

“I was joking. I’m alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s… nice.”

You weren’t sure what to make of such comment, so you remained quiet instead, breathing deeply his scent, feeling it numb your senses.

“I’ve never seen such a snowstorm,” he pointed out, gaze lost into the darkness ahead.

“Me neither.”

“Not in this part of the world, at least.”

“Typical of Ireland to send me the storm of the century as a farewell gift.”

You felt Andrew tensing under you, his voice was colder than usual as he spoke, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“When will you leave? For good, I mean.”

“I have a month after this short stay to find myself a place to rent and get to work.”

“But you’ll come back to visit, right?”

“Yeah, of course! I mean… when I’m on vacation. To see my family.”

“Will I get some free housing in Geneva, then?”

“You thief, as usual.”

“You know me. Always the rascal.”

You closed your eyes as he started to rub your back, the gesture gentle and amazingly soothing.

“Aren’t you afraid to go there on your own?”

“Yeah… yeah, a little bit,” you admitted in a breath. “But… at least Tom will be there.”

“Tom?”

“Yeah, you know? My colleague? He’s very nice, I like him a lot. We’re leaving together.”

His tall frame tensed again, you caught the way his breath staggered.

“What do you mean Tom is leaving too?”

You stared into his hazel eyes; these eyes you dreamt of at night, the ones you adored. They had taken the hue of leaves before Autumn, deep green in a ray of sunshine. They always did when tears came to his eyes. And indeed, you were surprised as you fell into his gaze to find it blurred with tears.

“You… you’re leaving with him?” he asked, voice deeper than usual, shaky, vulnerable.

You were aware, now more than ever, of how close you were. You stared up at him, lost in his eyes, and you thought of how it would be so easy to lean up and kiss him, make his frown melt away, shush his worry with your lips…

“I thought… why…?”

You shrugged, unsure of what he meant to say.

“We’ve been approached by the same company. We’ll both move to Geneva.”

“Together?!”

“I mean… at the same time, yes.”

“But you’re…”

So that was it then… you had found someone else again. And this time you were leaving in another country with this man and…

And Andrew had lost you for good.

He was only too aware of how close the two of you were, of how easy it would have been to simply lean down to kiss you. Press his lips to yours, forget you were choosing someone else…

But he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t take it.

Instead of leaning closer, he pushed you away.

“Get off.”

You frowned at the roughness in his voice, the coldness in his tone, and Andrew wished he could control himself, be gentle, the way you deserved, but he needed to get away if he wanted to keep breathing…

“Please, get off me.”

You blinked tears away, and he hated himself for being the cause of such a sight, but he didn’t stop you when you ungracefully pushed yourself back into the driver’s seat. And Andrew watched as you stared at him, expectant, like you didn’t understand that you were breaking his heart in a million pieces…

And he couldn’t take it.

You were so surprised when Andrew opened the door and climbed out of the car that you didn’t stop him. He was already out of sight when you shook yourself enough to grab his phone, the only source of light available, and jumped out of the car as well.

The wind was bitterly cold as it assailed your cheeks, the snow rough and sharp digging into your skin.

“ANDREW!”

You hurried around the car, struggling with the slippery ground.

Above the wind, there was nothing to be heard but your own voice. Betrayed by the night, even this sound seemed to fade too fast to reach anything out of your sight. And Andrew was nowhere to be seen, the darkness too thick for that, the elements howling too loudly.

“ANDREW!”

A thud. A groan. A hiss. You followed the sounds in a hurry, and sure enough, mere seconds were needed to find your friend half-lying in the snow, a hand gripping at the low stone wall.

“ANDY!”

You kneeled by his side, uncaring of the sharp sting of the frozen ground under your knees.

“Are you alright?”

But he nodded, without a word. He seemed in pain, you brushed a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, and he leaned into your touch without noticing.

“You’re okay? What the fuck are you doing?!”

“You’re leaving for him, right?”

“What on earth are you talking about?!”

“TOM! FUCKING TOM!”

He moved away from your touch, but winced as he leaned against the wall. Your eyes grew round in worry, and when you turned the light towards the stones, there were traces of blood there.

“Oh God… Andy, you’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head.

“Let me see…”

But he stood up instead, and you followed close. He was towering you, the way he always did. The difference in height had not been so obvious in the car, but now, he was standing before you in his full, impressive height, and the way he glared made it more intimidating than usual.

“You’re really leaving for a fucking guy you met at work?!”

You frowned, shaking your head.

“Andy, I’m not…”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“Andy…”

“For how long have you two even been together?”

“We’re not! We’re not together.”

It was his time to frown in confusion.

“What?”

“Tom and I, we’re not together. We’ve been approached by the same company, that’s all. Although, if I’m being honest… I might give him a chance.”

“What?”

You noticed how he was out of breath, of course you did. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just…sad. Unbearably sad…

“Well, he’s nice… and… I know he likes me. But… can we go back to the car now?”

“Don’t go with him.”

You stared up at him, his hair messed by the wind as more strands were breaking free from his bun. Snowflakes stained the dark locks with white. Some got caught in his long eyelashes. The biting cold was turning his sharp cheekbones red. In the dim light, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, even though you could see the lips moving with the vowels, closing with consonants…

“Don’t go. Y/N… don’t go.”

These were words you were longing to hear, and yet, now that he was finally speaking them out loud, you couldn’t take them in.

He had acted like he didn’t care for weeks, and now, all of a sudden, he claimed that he was hurting?

“That’s rich coming from someone who spends barely any time home.”

You knew you were being mean, and you felt guilty as a shock of pain ran through Andrew’s features, enough so to bring tears back in his eyes. Still, you didn’t take your words back.

“That’s not the same. This… this is still my home.”

“This is a great opportunity for my career. This would be a new start. I’m excited about it. And Tom is nice. He likes me. He wants me…”

“You’re saying that like you don’t have a family and friends and people who love you already.”

“You know what I mean. This is a great opportunity, Andy. I want to take it.”

You noticed the way he clenched his jaw, the way the muscle jumped there as he lowered his gaze to the ground, nodding slowly.

“You’re right… that’s a great opportunity. You should take it…”

But instead of you agreeing, he was surprised as you huffed in annoyance, and turned your back to him.

“Get your arse back in the car, come on.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t understand what you want, Andy!” you hissed as you turned back to him, and he hated the sharpness in your voice, it felt like a knife. “You act like you don’t give two fucks about me leaving for weeks! And now… now you’re acting like you want me to stay…!”

“Of course, I want you to stay! But I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be here for you, and to support you and encourage you…”

“So you’re glad that I’m leaving?” your voice rising into a shout, and his tone matched yours when he answered, making you tremble under his deep, powerful voice.

“Of course not! Are you listening to yourself?! Why would I want you to move to fucking Geneva!”

“Because you didn’t say a thing about it!” you were crying, but you didn’t even notice, too busy letting your feelings out, at long last. “Because everyone else tried to convince me to stay, and you didn’t!”

“I tried to be supportive!”

“Well, I didn’t want you to supportive!”

“What did you want then?!”

“The truth!”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave! Here’s your fucking truth! And I don’t want you to leave with fucking Tom! I want you to choose me!”

He was out of breath now, and as he moved closer to you and the light you still held tightly in your hand, you finally noticed that he was crying as well.

“Choose you?” you asked, confused and slightly calmer, even if your voice kept on shaking. “Why would you want me to choose you…?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

The words were out before he could hold them in; failing this time at this game he had played a thousand times before, every time the words almost slipped out, when he bit his tongue until it hurt so you wouldn’t hear his heart. Your eyes grew round like you were surprised, shocked even, like this was not the most obvious truth in the world, like he had not spent years loving you in secret, leaving traces of his bleeding heart all over the place…

He almost wanted to laugh at you, at your round eyes and parted lips and all that snow caught in your hair and the way he longed to kiss that shock off your face. He didn’t though. Because you took a step back, and he read fear in your eyes, and he realised then that you were slipping away, sand between his fingers although he tried to hold tight.

“Y/N…” he breathed, voice taken away by the wind before it could reach you.

You hurried to the car instead of answering, and he followed you this time, shivering in the cold. And once you were back in the safety of your vehicle, the seats had lost their warmth, and the tiny space between the two of you seemed unbearably vast, a chasm you would never be able to close or cross.

You were both staring out by the windshield, while the snow finally receded. You could start driving again…

“Can you say something?”

“We should try to drive again.”

“Y/N… please…”

But as you turned to him, it was to stare at his palm, not his gaze.

“You’re bleeding.”

Andrew followed your gaze, looked down at his own hand. There was a long cut across the palm, red with blood, darkened with dirt on some spots. In the dim light, it was hard to tell how deep the cut was. It hurt, that was for sure. And yet, he didn’t care. You were more painful than an open wound.

“It’s nothing…”

“Let me see.”

You took off the gloves he had lent you, and Andrew didn’t have the strength to stop you as you gently reached for his hand, cradled it in yours, held it to the light to get a better view. Your skin was warm and soft against his cold one, and the thought that you could hate him, that you could resent him for sharing feelings he knew as unrequited made the tenderness of your hold almost unbearable.

“How did you hurt yourself?”

“I slipped in the snow. Caught myself to the wall. Sharp stone.”

You heaved a sigh, the sound was almost annoyed, but not quite. More like… worried.

“Hold the light, would you?”

He didn’t think as he obeyed, yielding to your will, the way he always did. You grabbed a bottle of water and some tissues from the glove box, and started to slowly clean up his cut. You were leaning closer to do so, and Andrew couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward as well, longing for your nearness, basking in the touch of your hand as it came back to cradle his, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

The breath he let out before speaking again was shaking.

“Do you hate me?”

You looked up, seemed to realize how close the two of you were. You could easily lean up and kiss him, and he could easily lean down and press his lips to yours. Instead, you both remained motionless, perfectly still, merely staring while he waited for an answer you thought was too obvious to be spoken.

“Why would I?” you asked back.

“Because… because we’re friends. And I caught feelings. And… maybe you hate me now that you know that I don’t… I don’t see a friend in you at all. Now that you know that I lied.”

But you didn’t answer, instead, you lowered your gaze again, and Andrew jumped and let out a hiss as you pressed the wet tissues against his broken skin.

“I’m not angry,” you finally reassured him. “I’m just… I don’t really believe you, I think.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you?”

You shrugged, and despite your claim of being calm, the smile that formed on your lips was bitter when you spoke.

“For how long have we been friends? And you’ve never said anything? Never felt anything, until I decided to go away? And now, all of sudden, you’re catching feelings?”

“I’ve never said these feelings were new.”

“You friendzoned me, back in the days. Do you remember that?”

Andrew winced, but nodded anyway.

“This… this was different.”

“Because I was just a friend?”

“Because I was the one leaving. Because it wasn’t fair to ask you out just to disappear for months while I was touring.”

Finally, you looked up again, trying to read something in his eyes, and whatever it was, Andrew hoped that you would find it there. He hoped you could see that he was being earnest, that he meant it, that there was no doubt to have. He had never doubted his love for you, even if he had refrained it. It had been a truth he had relied on for years. With a bit of luck, you might want to rely on it too…

“But then you came back… why didn’t you say anything then?”

“You weren’t single anymore. It was my turn to get friendzoned.”

The ghost of a smile formed on his lips, a soothing offering. But it was sad all the same.

“And after that?”

“After that… you were already my best friend. You… I didn’t want to lose you. And you… you deserved better than that. You deserve better than what I can give you. Waiting around while I disappear for months, what kind of life is that?”

You stopped breathing as he lifted his unharmed hand up to your face, brushing his fingertips across your cheek, the way he had longed to for years.

If his heart was staggering behind his ribs, if his breath was caught in his throat because of this gentle touch of your skin, when he closed his eyes to gather his strength, there was a tear breaking free.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t feel the same,” he shook his head as he opened his eyes again, falling into your gaze, and he saw there the same tears he tried to withhold in his own eyes. “I know it’s a one-sided thing. I didn’t… I didn’t want to break everything. I’m sorry.”

He was surprised when you shook your head and leaned into his touch, forcing his hand to open so he could cradle your face in his palm, long fingers disappearing into your hair and tenderly brushing your skin.

“God, you’re such an idiot.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow, not daring to move or reply. You started laughing, and he was at a loss.

“We’re both so damn stupid!”

He had to blink to make sure that he wasn’t imagining your movement as you slowly closed the gap between the two of you, as you leaned up to meet him. He was too surprised by it to meet you halfway; he was too taken aback by the feeling of your lips against his to kiss you back. It took him a couple of seconds to process that this was truly happening, that he was not, in fact, lost in one of the many dreams he’d had of this moment. But then your hand was in the mess of his curls, and you were pressing your lips more firmly against his, and he allowed himself to believe that you wanted this as well, that perhaps he had been, indeed, such an idiot for failing to see what was right in front of him, the same way you had missed all of his gestures along the years.

And you wished you could admit to yourself that you were keeping control over the situation, having instigated the kiss, but you melted into his touch the second Andrew responded and kissed you back. His hold on your face tightened slightly, a tinge of desperation held in the gesture. You tightened your hold on his wounded hand, and he responded by twisting his wrist until he could hold onto your hand too. You chased after him as he pulled away, but he left only for a second, just long enough to tilt his head slightly to the side, bettering the angle of his next kiss so he could deepen it. And the second you could properly taste him on your tongue, you lost track of everything but him: the warmth of his scent, the softness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, his curls running through your fingers, the gentle scratching of his beard, and the overwhelming feeling of being kissed by him. The feelings he poured into the intimate gesture… no one had ever kissed you like that before…

When you broke apart, at long last, both of you breathless, blinking the dizziness of the kiss away in an attempt to find back an earthly footing, Andrew pressed his forehead to yours, afraid, perhaps, that if he got too far, he would wake.

“I don’t see you as a mere friend either, in case that was still unclear,” you clarified, tone half-joking, making him smile.

“Right…”

“You’re okay?”

“Just… trying to assess whether I’m awake or dreaming right now.”

Playfully, you pinched his shoulder, making both of you laugh.

“Awake,” you confirmed. “Even your wild imagination could not have pictured the storm of the century as a background for our first kiss.”

“First? Can I have another, then?”

You couldn’t refrain a giggle, gently shaking your head at him, brushing your nose against his in the process.

“A true thief, as always.”

“Of the worst kind only.”

His thumb caressed your cheekbone, soft touch across your soft skin, making your eyes flutter shut as your heart lost its rhythm.

“If you want to take this job in Geneva, we can still make it work.”

You lifted your eyelids again and pulled back, just to fall right into his hazel eyes.

“Just… don’t choose Tom…”

You shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile. Your hands moved to hold his face in both of your palms, to make sure he would keep staring at you as you answered.

“Fuck Tom. Fuck Geneva. I’d rather go on a date with you.”

Andrew let out a chuckle, eyes crinkling as he smiled. Still, he had tears in his eyes all over again.

“You said it yourself, though. It’s a great opportunity for you.”

“I want to stay. If we give this a try, I want to stay.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll be away for months…”

“And you’ll be the one paying for the plane tickets, I’m not emptying my bank account when I’ve got a millionaire as a boyfriend.”

You both laughed, and Andrew nodded, at last.

“Fair enough.”

You were about to speak but didn’t have the time, Andrew was leaning to kiss you again instead, and you couldn’t complain, didn’t want to stop his fall towards your mouth.

He hissed and pulled away too fast though, after mere seconds, looking down at his wounded palm that he had tried to press against your back.

“I should clean this up, and then we can keep on driving,” you proposed, and Andrew agreed with a nod, obediently holding his hand still while you took care of him. He did lean to kiss your forehead a couple of times though, and you were both still quite amazed that he could do it, or that he wanted to.

You would have to get used to it though. After the storm had passed, after you had found your way back onto the right road, after you had reached your destination, there was plenty of time to talk, to confess feelings you had both refrained for too long, for holding onto each other too tightly, for kissing until lips were bruised and numb and yet still willing.

Perhaps, this trip was not such a disaster, after all…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier oneshot #hozier x y/n #hozier x you #andrew hozier byrne x reader #andrew hozier byrne x you #andrew hozier byrne x y/n #hozier fic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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daechwitatamic · 3 months

Text

The Price || MYG

banner by @/itaeewon

The Price

Rating: NSWF - minors do not have my consent to interact Genre: Snow White and the Huntsman!au, angst, smut, unhappy ending WC: 8k

Summary: The Queen is responsible for everything you call yours: your home, your job, your freedom. You live without laying claim to anything else, lest the Queen leverage more in exchange for her grace. But the Queen has just named her latest price: the life of the young blacksmith, Min Yoongi.

Warnings: language, drinking, there’s a plague and it’s a problem, reader’s parents died (see the previous warning lol) and there are scenes of her grieving process, reader is a hunter so there’s mentions of animal carcasses and hides, lots of mentions of reader’s big fancy knife, a murder attempt, kissing, nip stim, groping, fingering, clit stim, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), reader on top, angst, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: Part of the Make Me Your Villain collab! Please give the other authors a lot of love!!! Huge huge huge thank you to @/here2bbtstrash for beta-ing!

Mirror, mirror - look and see. Who might take this throne from me? Mirror, mirror - who's the threat? Show me which boy's blood to let.

There are pros and cons to living outside the village. The pros are that you’re mostly left alone - you live by your own laws, most of the time. It’s better this way; you come and go as you please, you don’t worry about latest fashions or gossip, you aren’t under the thumb of any societal niceties or norms. You concern yourself more with what the forest tells you. Bad weather, humans who don’t belong, sickness on the horizon - the forest knows it all, and you know how to listen.

You knew about the plague - in a vague, something isn’t right here kind of way - days before the first villager fell sick. You didn’t see anything bigger than a possum for three days - you knew something was in the air. It was the baker first, then his wife. Now it’s made its way into the castle, the guards and servants falling like flies.

Another pro - you won’t pick up illness from the baker if you make your own bread in your tiny cabin in the woods.

The main con - the only con, really - is that when you make your weekly trek to the castle to present the King and Queen with your scores (deer, mostly, but usually a few fowl too) it takes so damn long to get there.

It would be faster on foot, much faster, but you have to load your kills onto a cart and take the dirt road, which winds and twists and takes its time. Today your cart is loaded: venison, fowl, a few rabbits, even a fox. That had been a good score. The Queen likes furs - she’ll pay you well for it.

But the trip into town once a week is a fair price for your freedom, you think.

A few vendors through the heart of town wave hello as you pass. You lift your hand in response but don’t stop. You’ll shop after, when your cart is empty and your purse is full. For now, you stay on the main road until it changes over from tamped-down dirt to cobblestone to, eventually, flat stone that leads to the bridge over the castle’s moat.

The usual guard, the one who knows your face and always waves you through, isn’t there. You wonder if the plague reached him, if he’ll recover or if they’ll send his body to the sea like all the others.

You show identification, the card nearly illegible due to how many times it’s been folded and stuffed into your shoe for safekeeping, and this new guard waves you on.

As usual, you stop in the courtyard just inside the first set of walls. You hop down and start undoing the straps of the fabric you have over the top of the cart. Two guards join you, and they begin moving your scores down from the cart. Each is weighed and given a quick once-over as a scribe stands to the side recording it all.

“Make sure you mention how nice that hide is,” you tell him, pointing at the fox. “I got that one special, for her.”

The scribe rolls his eyes a little, but you see him peer at the fox and scribble something on his little parchment. When they’re done, your cart empty, the scribe rolls his paper up and leads you up the steps towards the main doors to the castle. You flip one of the guards a silver coin and follow the scribe. As you head up the steps, you hear the sound of your horse’s feet moving across the stone, the cart creaking and groaning behind him, as the guard you paid takes him to be cared for.

Inside, you follow the thick, red carpet into the throne room. You’re surprised to see only the Queen present, but you school your face and drop into a bow anyway, your forehead brushing the soft carpeting.

When you rise, you see the scribe has handed her the parchment, and she reads over the report of your goods. You wait, knowing better than to speak until she has.

“A good week,” she observes.

“Yes, your Grace,” you say, eyes on the carpet. “I was pleased as well.”

“Are you well?” she asks as she signals for her Chief of Coin, who scurries close to the throne and lowers his head to hear her whispers.

“Quite well,” you say automatically, though you’re not sure what exactly she’s asking. Does she mean your health? Your home?

The Chief of Coin makes his way to you and you pull your practically-empty purse from your back pocket.

“You have need of nothing?” she asks.

This would be your opportunity to ask after anything major - repairs on your home, medicine, anything you couldn’t get during your walk back through town.

“No, your Grace,” you say. “I had need of a new blade, but the local smith took my request.”

The local smith and your new blade are one of your stops on your way home.

“I’ve heard from the citadel,” she tells you, and you pull your eyes away from the Chief of Coin to look at her. “They say your brother is doing well. He’s applying himself to his studies.”

When you’d lost your parents, you’d begged to keep your brother yourself, desperate to keep him away from the citadel’s orphanage. You were of age, could handle yourself. You could handle him, too, you’d argued.

The King had considered this. Your family was well-known in the village, and your father had hunted for the crown for many years. Your brother was only about five years out from finishing his schooling.

You were investments, you and your brother.

In the end, the deal had been struck - the crown would see to the rest of his education under the condition that when he finished he’d work for the crown, pay back his debt, begin to build his own name.

And, in the meantime, you’d take over the hunting. You could keep your family’s little cabin out in the woods, away from town. Your brother wouldn’t be apprenticed off to a stranger.

It was an easy deal to agree to.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity,” you say to the Queen. “If the report said anything less, I’d travel there to knock sense into him, myself. He’s at that age. You know.”

You try to bite back a cringe. The Queen might not know. She’d never been able to bear a child for the King.

She smiles at this, thinly. “Very well,” she says, and you take back your now-heavy purse from the Chief of Coin. “Then I shall see you next week. I wish you continued health in the upcoming days.”

You nod your head. “I wish the crown health and longevity,” you say. Head bowed, you miss the way her eyes tighten.

–

You pick up the goods you need - eggs, flour, and the like - on your way through town. You eye the tavern, tempted to stop for a pint. Alas, you are embarrassingly excited to get your new blade, so instead you carry on down the road towards the smithy.

After tying up your horse - though he’s a lazy thing and probably wouldn’t wonder anyway, not with the cart hitched up - you head inside, following the sounds of a hammer striking metal.

You wait until there’s a break in the noise and then shout a hey back towards the open door to let the team know they have a customer.

There’s the sound of a heavy instrument being dropped to the ground, and you catch yourself smoothing your hair back. Stop it, you scold yourself, scowling.

That’s the face that greets the youngest of the smithing team, Min Yoongi, as he steps into the shop, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light.

“Ah,” he says, lips curling into a smirk. “Is it Thursday already?”

“Is my blade ready?” you ask, ignoring both his self-satisfied grin and his question. “Park Jihoon said I could get it today.”

At his boss’s name, Yoongi’s smirk fades until he’s all business again. He turns to the wall, where special orders are tacked. He searches until he finds yours.

“It’s ready,” he grunts, reading the slip of parchment. “Wait here.”

He disappears into the back again, returning with a hefty-looking blade, sheathed in a leather case.

He places it on the counter between you, pulls the blade from its case and turns it over so you can see each side.

You frown. “I didn’t order engraving on the case,” you say, jutting your chin towards the delicate design at the top. It curls in and around itself, all the way around. “I’d better not have to pay extra for that.”

“Ah, but he worked so hard on it!” Park Jihoon says cheerfully, appearing out of the back and clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. You keep your eyes on the knife; Yoongi looks steadfastly at the wall with the orders, a pink flush working up his neck.

“It’s not extra,” he mutters.

“I’m heading to Bridgeport,” the senior blacksmith tells Yoongi. “I’ll be back before sundown. You’ll be okay here?”

“Of course I will,” Yoongi says, disgruntled. Jihoon nods goodbye at you both and moves through the door, leaving you in silence.

“What’s the price?” you ask, placing your purse on the counter and digging for coins. He turns the paper over so you can see what his boss wrote, and you slide him the payment. You work on attaching the blade’s sheath to your belt, ignoring how Yoongi watches you through heavy-hooded eyes.

You know that look. You are ignoring that look.

“Lovely,” you say, once you’re situated and ready to go. You swipe up your purse and toss it once, catching it deftly. “Have fun pounding on metal, or whatever.”

His grin is razor-sharp. “I’d be happy to pound something else, if you want.”

The laugh rips out of you, unbidden and unwanted. “Disgusting,” you tell him, but the laughter takes the bite out of the words. “My God, you ought to throw yourself down the well for that.”

He lifts a brow, his smile turning less dangerous and more open.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “None of that today, thanks. I’ll be off.”

“Come on,” he cajoles, coming around the counter to follow you to the door. “You know you want some. It’ll be such a long ride back here when you change your mind later.”

“Keep dreaming, blacksmith,” you tell him, lips pursing in amusement.

He lays a hand over his heart like he’s wounded. “Blacksmith? You remembered my name just fine last week when you were -.”

“Well, I seem to have forgotten it again!” you blurt before he can finish the thought, pulling the door open. Over your shoulder you call, “Good day!”

His laughter rings out onto the street, following you home.

Regretfully, you have to admit that out of everyone who lives in this village, built out from the castle’s western gate, you know the most about Min Yoongi.

You knew him in passing, of course - before. When you’d ride through this same village on this same cart, your little brother squeezed between you and your father. When you’d stand silently, peeking around your father’s side, while he took payment from the King for his scores. When you’d greet the peddlers and the shop-keepers politely before climbing back on the cart and riding all the way back home.

Yoongi was just an apprentice then. You hadn’t paid him any mind. He was quiet, a bit scruffy, stayed close to Park Jihoon. He was no more interesting to you than the apprentice for the bakery, the tannery, the copywrite. Wasn’t even the best looking out of the bunch, honestly.

He was just there, unassuming. He was there when you’d pass through town on the cart full of your father’s scores, there whenever your family had business with the blacksmith, there when the holidays rolled through and your mother dragged you into town in a dress you hated and shoes that pinched.

There the day your parents’ bodies, along with six others, were loaded onto a barge headed for the sea. There the day your brother joined four more young people from the village as they climbed into a deep blue carriage headed for the citadel.

Yoongi’s dark eyes, cool and undemanding, had been on you as you stood fully alone for the first time in your life.

You hadn’t paid him any attention then, either. You couldn’t pay mind to anything then except dragging yourself through dark day after dark day until, finally, the clouds seemed to part and your new life seemed bearable. And bearable turned into decent. And decent turned into enjoyable.

The seasons turned. The hurts faded.

And you began to pay mind to Min Yoongi.

You began to learn things about him, then - after.

In your time around town, you learned first that he was good at his work - his blades were made well, easily as well as his master’s blades. You learned that he scowled and grunted but hardly ever meant it. You learned that he had a good reputation around the village - was known for helping his neighbors without being asked, known for being polite and keeping to himself. You learned that he had no family either, that the master blacksmith who’d taken him as an apprentice had more or less raised him, too.

Alone with him, you learned that his smile could be razor sharp, one side lifting and eyes glinting in a way that made your pulse sing. You learned that when he meant it, his eyes squeezed shut and his gums showed. His shoulders shook when he laughed. He made the funniest faces when someone said anything he didn’t agree with or didn’t understand. He’d grown strong, his craft shaping his arms and roughening his hands.

You learned that he took whiskey neat at the tavern when he was done working for the day. You learned that he had a smart mouth behind his quiet demeanor, and opinions about everything. You learned what he was willing and able to do with that mouth when he pressed you against the rough wood of the tavern’s side alley, and then later, back in his rooms behind the smithy.

You learned that he fucked rough but loved soft.

And that was where it had to stop.

Because it couldn’t be - but this you knew the whole time.

When he pressed his mouth to yours sweetly, stretching to reach you, brushed one lovely finger down your cheek and whispered, I want you, you knew this: it couldn’t be.

There was no life for you in the village. There was no life for you as someone’s wife. There was no future for you as someone’s homemaker.

Even if he could somehow give you partnership and love without taking away the wildness of your lifestyle - there was no love ready to bloom and grow behind your iron ribs. You had nothing you could give him back. You knew only survival. Only killing and coin. Only the forest and its secrets.

“You can’t have me,” you’d whispered back. “I am not to be had.”

You were surprised when he didn’t fight it. He hadn’t pushed back. He hadn’t held it against you, hadn’t been wounded. He’d accepted exactly what you were willing to give him and asked for nothing more.

You know this, above all else: he’s sweet, and conscientious, and good. Yoongi is good.

You - forest-dweller, hunter, orphan, unmannered, uneducated - don’t deserve him. You aren’t enough for how good he is.

The royal physician’s face says it all.

The Queen purses her lips, her eyes on her husband’s prone form. He meets her gaze weakly, too far gone to mask any of it.

“How long?” she asks, the words clipped.

The physician spreads his hands before him. “Impossible to say, your Majesty. Days, maybe. Weeks, if he can be strong.”

She scoffs. “Days it shall be, then.” She dismisses him with the wave of a hand.

No one is surprised, she thinks. The plague would breach their walls eventually. Only the strong survive - of course it would be her husband who would succumb first, and quickly. He’d never been strong, not like her.

After all, she was the one who tried all these years. She looked and acted the part of a partner. She was faithful. She focused on the crown, on the realm.

Not like him.

He coughs as he shifts on the bed, and she looks at him again. Weak, she thinks again. She can only feel disgust for him, for everything he never gave her.

“You’ll finally get what you always wanted,” he croaks.

She turns to look out the window. The day is grey, dreary.

“It seems I shall,” she agrees. Then she turns and walks closer to her husband’s sickbed - deathbed, perhaps. She drops delicately into the chair at his side and takes his clammy hand in hers.

It might look as if she doted on him. It might look as if she mourned.

“What became of him?” she asks, voice even and unbending. “The boy.”

Her husband’s eyes crinkle with amusement, and the chuckle that rumbles from his chest is accompanied by pained coughing.

“You truly are something, my Queen,” he says, shaking his head. “The boy doesn’t even know.”

He will say nothing else.

The Queen is delivered two things at once, not a week later.

The first, a gilded mirror, promised to possess magical ability.

The second, the expected news of her husband’s passing.

The realm begins its period of mourning, flags lowering, shutters closing. The Queen begins her incantations, alone in the southernmost tower of the keep.

The frame is made of ornately twisted gold, so heavy it takes two of her men to hang it for her. When they pull the dust cover off, she steps back to appraise it.

“Pretty,” she observes, watching her own reflection in the glass - unmagical, unextraordinary.

The swirling, green-hued mist doesn’t appear before her reflection until her men are dismissed, the door closing and leaving her alone.

Your Majesty, the mirror intones, the voice coming from the depth of the mist. Your wish is my command.

The Queen pauses, considering. The throne, the throne - hers, finally, only hers.

Unless.

The King’s last words to her ring through her head - the boy doesn’t even know.

She raises her chin and chants,

“Mirror, mirror, look and see…

Who could take this throne from me?

Mirror, mirror, who’s the threat?

Show me which boy’s blood to let.”

The mist, green and growing, takes over the glass. The Queen’s fists clench tightly at her sides.

The mist clears. The Queen lets out a laugh, short and bitter.

The blacksmith’s boy smiles shyly in the glass, one hand coming up as if to hide his face.

The blacksmith’s boy. The king’s bastard. Her only threat, the only other claim to her throne.

Your next trip into town isn’t with a cart full of venison and fowl. Instead it rings more true to the holidays of old, with your mother in charge. You wear black and a scowl, just as you did then.

The funeral services for the King threaten to last the full day, maybe into the night. You wish you could abstain, but if ever there was an event you were obligated to attend - this would be it.

You’re not sure what the King’s death means for you - for your brother. Will the Queen uphold the bargain? Does she still want your brother’s counsel, someday, when he’s of age? Without the King’s affection for your father, will she continue to allow you to live freely as part of the arrangement?

You sit alone in the church pew; rather, you’re surrounded on either side by strangers. You know Yoongi’s in the crowd somewhere - you can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You don’t turn to look for him. What good would it do?

It’s well after dark when the town begins to file out into the night. Your stomach growls, and you ponder if you should stop for a hot meal at the tavern before making the trek back through the woods or if you can hold out until you’re safely back at home.

You’re stopped on your way out the door by a guard reaching across you, blocking your path.

“Her Majesty requests your audience,” he says gruffly, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand at attention. Your audience?

It can’t be good. You’re sure of it.

You don’t meet her in the throne room as you have in the past. Instead, the guard leads you to a small chamber off the chapel, a nondescript little room with no decor, only a table with a candelabra lit in the center.

She’s seated, and it’s so cramped in the room that it’s hard to properly bow, but you do your best.

“Is my brother well?” you blurt out as soon as the guard has closed the door behind you. It was the first, biggest concern you had - you couldn’t hold it in. Had something happened in the citadel?

She inclines her head, shrouded in darkness. “I asked you here because I need something done. You seem, somehow, to be my best option.”

You duck your head, flooded with relief. “I’m at your service, as always.”

And you are. You owe the crown everything - the home you were allowed to keep, your brother’s education, your income. Your freedom, as conditional as it is.

The Queen seems to think before she speaks, and when she does each word is short and deliberate.

“There’s someone I need gone,” she says, her voice giving away no emotion. No sign of grief from the widow, no sign of trepidation from the new ruler, no sign of regret from the human asking you to take a life. “A threat to my throne. I’ll pay five times our normal scale. And I’ll pay you for your discretion, as well, on an ongoing basis.”

You respond with silence. You can’t process quickly enough - you don’t know what to tell her.

The only thing you can tell her is yes. She holds your whole world in her hands.

But if you tell her yes, then you have to do it. Can you kill a person, can you pretend it’s no different from cutting a rabbit’s throat?

Could you tell her yes and then leave? Vanish into the forest? What would become of your brother, if you did? Would he be responsible for your sins?

Five times your normal price could do a lot for you. You could send finer clothes to your brother, help pay for his books, maybe even a little spending money. You could fix up the cabin - patch the roof where it leaks, reinforce the cellar the way you’ve thought about for years.

And payment for your silence - ongoing? For how long, forever?

None of it matters. You can’t say no to the Queen.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you hear yourself say. Your stomach is a block of ice, turning over and over with the tide. “I am yours to command.”

You know it. She knows it.

“The blacksmith’s boy,” she says coolly, and you aren’t even surprised. It’s like part of you knew, somehow. Part of you has been waiting for this ending all along. Isn’t this exactly why you’d never let him get too close? There was never a happy ending in the stars - not for you.

She accepts your silence as acquiescence and adds, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” you repeat, voice coming out too wispy.

She meets your gaze, still cold. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you say, the only correct answer. But your mind is scrambling far away, getting ahead - what weapons do you have on hand, how will you do this -

“You didn’t strike me as softhearted,” she says, full of disdain.

“I’m not,” you defend. It’s just that it’s Yoongi. Yoongi, who sees your sharp edges and smiles because he knows firsthand how much sharp edges are worth. How - how - how can you? How can you pretend it’s just a hunt, just a necessity, when you know how his mouth tastes, how he looks at you like you’re something?

Her even look turns darker, a shade closer to a frown. “I know you have the stomach and skill to kill. And I know you dally with him. He’ll follow you - take him to the woods and be done with it.”

You haven’t been as discrete as you thought you had. You wonder who else in town knows about whom you dally with.

Not that it will matter, after tonight. Not if you follow orders.

Not when you follow orders.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you say, head bowed.

There’s no other correct answer. Your freedom had always had a price.

–

There’s some poetic irony, you think, in killing Min Yoongi with the blade he made just for you.

Your mind is stuck on this, circling it, unable to let go, as you approach the smithy.

The lights are out - there’ll be no late-night projects, not during the official mourning for the King. You hope Park Jihoon, whose quarters are above the smithy, just across the yard from Yoongi’s tiny cabin, sleeps deeply.

You know Yoongi keeps a key in the eaves above his front window; you’ve seen him retrieve it no less than a half-dozen times - usually he’s reaching for it, his shirt rising and showing a slip of belly that you can’t help but run your hands across as he laughs and tells you to be patient.

You reach it on your own, tonight. You let yourself in as silently as possible, closing the door behind you, placing the key gently on his tiny, wooden table. His bed is in the far corner of the room, and although the fire in the hearth has gone out, you can see the lump of blankets through the darkness that show you his form.

You approach quietly, as you would approach a potential score, letting yourself slip into the mindset of surviving the forest.

You hesitate when you stand over him. He sleeps on his back, the light from the streetlamps outside casting flickering yellow over his delicate features. His eyelids flutter. Next to his head, his fingers twitch.

If you strike true, this could be over in an instant.

His eyes slide open, and a hazy smile drifts over his face. “Am I having a very good dream?” he murmurs. His eyes trail down your form and freeze on the knife in your hand. The smile fades, and his eyes meet yours again, a question in them. “Or perhaps a very bad one?”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Then, you move at the same time - you lunging and plunging the blade into the spot where his heart lay, and him rolling sideways and hitting the floor with a thud.

You yank your blade free from where it pierced Yoongi’s empty mattress and wheel to follow him as he scrambles upright and towards the door.

You should’ve locked it. You shouldn’t have apologized, your voice and your regret giving him the split second to bolt.

You follow him at a sprint, panting hard, as the fool runs barefoot through the smithy’s yard, heading for the forest.

Your forest.

It’s overcast tonight, threatening rain. No moon or stars to guide you, you follow Yoongi as he zigs and zags blindly through the trees. You have the advantage. You know where you are, even in the dark.

It’s primal, as you forge deeper and deeper through the underbrush, just sinew and silence as you run. Wind whistles around you as you focus on breathing, focus on following the crunch of Yoongi’s wild path. The earth seems to rise up to meet each footfall with a jolting slap. The darkness seems to spur you on like it knows you need this, pressing you onward, telling you, hurry, hurry.

If you can herd him towards the east, you can cut him off at the ravine - he won’t be able to do it barefoot, not without stumbling, not without cutting those bare feet on the sharp rocks. You pick up the pace, emboldened by the plan, knees and elbows pumping as you close in.

Without warning, Yoongi stops short and wheels around on you, feet skidding a little on the loose needles that coat the forest floor. It’s so unexpected that the inertia carries you to him before you can tell your legs to quit. Before you can slow, before you can turn, he grabs you by the arms and slams you backwards into the thick trunk of an oak tree, hard enough to knock the wind out of you with an audible gasp.

You’re surprised enough that the knife drops from your fingers, and he wastes no time gripping you even tighter and throwing you to the ground, instantly dropping his body over yours and holding you down as best he can as you struggle. The blade lies just out of reach, taunting you, and you reach up and stretch as hard as you can to wiggle your fingers closer, but Yoongi roughly jerks your arm away.

You’re gasping for breath as you struggle beneath his weight, trying to keep your vision clear. This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to have to chase him, have to fight him. You aren’t used to this - the deer don’t fight back.

“Why?” he pants heavily, his whole body heaving with each inhale and exhale. Sweat runs down his neck from the curled, damp edges of his hair. His eyes are wild, confused above you.

“Do you know who your father is?” you respond in answer, and the question surprises him so much that he leans back, like he’s trying to get a better look at you.

It’s all you need. You use your feet and your core strength to stretch just past where you couldn’t reach with his full weight on you, and your fingers close around the blade’s handle. In a flash, you have the sharp side pressing to the pulse point on Yoongi’s neck, hard enough that you know he can feel the sting, your other hand curling in his shirt and holding him still. His eyes widen and he freezes, straining to hold himself up and away from you.

“If you move I’ll do it, and it won’t be quick,” you hiss, teeth gritted so hard you’re sure they’ll crack. Your heart slams in your chest, adrenaline sending tingles clear down to your toes. You’re dizzy with fear. You aren’t sure what’s scarier - actually doing what you’re meant to, or having to report that you didn’t.

You’re both stuck there - a tableau, an oil painting, frozen for eternity, never moving on from this moment. A million possibilities stretch on as Yoongi’s pulse beats visibly against the knife he’d sharpened for you just days ago.

You feel like you’re floating outside your body; you can’t feel any of it - not the knife’s handle against your palm, not Yoongi’s hips still pinning yours, not the sticks and stones beneath your spine, not the sticky humidity of a night on the precipice of storm. Not your own thrumming, frightened heartbeat.

You know you can’t do it - not this way. Not like this, not with his eyes on yours, steady, as if he’s not staring down his death. Not like this, looking into his face and remembering the first time you were under him this way, remembering every time after that. Your hand trembles as you will yourself not to pull the blade away.

But he knows. Yoongi’s always called your every bluff, has always been perfectly capable of shooting you a knowing half-smile and pushing right past your blustering, always able to find the person on the other side of the facade - the person who’s scared,confused, alone.

“No you won’t,” he murmurs, low, and there’s nothing accusing or mocking in it. He’s simply telling you what he knows.

Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face closer to yours, so deliberately that the knife slides harmlessly along his skin until he’s clear of it. He presses his lips to yours, uncertain at first, then with more insistence when you don’t push him away.

The fear and adrenaline crash through you in time with a not-so-distant crack of thunder, blinding you, rendering you thoughtless and animalistic. You drop the knife with a thud, barely aware that you’re doing it, your hand coming instead to tangle in his loose hair, clutching it tightly at the base of his neck and pressing his head closer to yours, kissing him deeper, needing to absolutely drown in his kiss.

He grunts at your enthusiasm, nipping at your bottom lip before diving into you again, licking deep into your mouth and pressing his hips down into yours in rhythm with the kiss. You move with him desperately, the quiet of the woods scattered by your combined gasping breaths, tiny sounds of pleasure slipping through the cracks in your armor, the wet sounds of your mouths coming apart and meeting again hungrily. Despite the earth solid beneath you, you feel like you’re spinning. You clutch him tightly, one hand in his hair and the other arm coming around his shoulders, tethering him to you.

He’s the only thing keeping you here, in the present, not skittering off to somewhere safe inside your head.

You let him hold you there, pressed between him and the unyielding ground below you, channel all the rushing adrenaline into how you meet his fiery kisses, pressing your mouth hard back against his like it’s a battle, into how you roll your hips against his, thrilling at feeling him hard and ready for you. But for all the intensity, for the dizziness sweeping over you, neither of you rushes - you kiss for so long that your lips tingle, your core throbs, the night grows blacker, the thunder tiptoes closer.

You swipe your tongue over his familiar lips, whining in your throat when he opens for you again, welcomes you in, rocks against you and closes his eyes against the sting as you unconsciously tighten your fingers in his hair.

Then he breaks the kiss, pulls himself free of your grasp, nudges his nose to the underside of your jaw until you lean your head back, breathing hard, giving him room to attach teeth and lips to the skin of your neck.

He gathers a bit of skin and worries it between his teeth, muttering, “You won’t kill me. No one else can make you come undone like I do.”

The sound that tears out of you is half laugh and half desperate groan. “Prove it, then,” you goad, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling the edge towards you. He releases the spot on your neck long enough to let you pull the material over his head. Then he sits back on his knees between your legs and looks you over, one hand absently sliding down the front of his trousers, pressing relief into his waiting cock.

“Yours,” he says, tone steely. You find your own hem with shaking fingers. Distantly, there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the canopy of tree branches above you before plunging you into darkness again. You pull your top over your head and drop it next to his, leaning back on your elbows.

All thoughts of what you’re supposed to do here have left you; there’s only hands-shaking adrenaline and instinct driving you to give in to your desires and pursue what you want - Yoongi, Yoongi, more of Yoongi.

“Trousers, too,” Yoongi tells you, voice quiet. His fingers are on the string of his own trousers, but his eyes are on your exposed chest. Hungry.

You do as he says, untying your bottoms and pushing them away with your feet and waiting for his next move. The night isn’t cold, but you shiver. The forest, your forest, feels like a sanctuary, like it’s wrapping around the two of you and keeping you safe from everything outside. Like if you stayed in here, together, you might be safe from her after all.

But you know that’s a lie.

You push the thought away by coming up on your knees and approaching Yoongi, who’s still kneeling, too. You press your chest to him with a shudder as you reach to kiss him again. He gives a quiet, happy noise low in his throat and you answer with a hum as you lick into him again.

You slip a hand between your bodies and find him heavy and leaking. He presses into your touch with a nearly-silent keen that you manage to catch, and you trace your fingertips up his length, playing in the wetness you find waiting for you at the tip, then pulling that wetness down to the base again. You repeat the motion, touch featherlight, and listen to Yoongi’s breathing hitch and catch and sigh as he closes his eyes and enjoys it. He’s silky against your fingertips, skin like satin even here.

Yoongi trails kisses down your jaw, making a clear path towards your neck, and he skims a hand up your side and past your ribs, cupping one breast and rubbing his thumb roughly over your hardening nipple. You gasp, fingers twitching against his length, which spurs him on. He runs his knuckles lightly over the bud, then takes it gently between his thumb and forefinger, giving it an experimental roll. Your gasped ah turns into a liquid moan and he does it again, harder. You keen, a note of complaint in it, as he repeats the movement that is somehow both too much and not enough.

You wrap your hand fully around him, done teasing him with barely-there strokes, and roll your wrist once, twice, three times, his low grumbling reply music to your ears. He’s still mouthing at your neck and he switches hands, igniting sparks as he gently pinches the other nipple instead. Then he reaches and bumps your wrist out of his way as he cups your sex and spears you on his middle finger.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, rocking into his hand, trying to take the digit just a little deeper.

He must hear the desperation in your tone or sense it in the way you clench around his single finger, because he takes mercy on you and presses a second finger in beside the first. You sigh, still rocking against his hand, as he fucks into the spot in your front wall that makes your eyes drift closed and your toes curl up. You abandon his cock, bringing your hands to his shoulders, hanging on to keep yourself upright. When he presses his thumb against your clit you groan, loud and long, no one to hear you, and let your head fall back.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, plunging his fingers in and out of your wet heat. You can hear it each time he pushes them back in, the sound ringing in the silent woods, the only competition the approaching rolls of gentle thunder.

He works you up until you’re panting, your forehead dropping to rest against his collarbone, your hips in constant motion as you seek more. Your arms are looped around his neck, though you don’t remember starting to hold him, and your fingers find the ends of his long hair, tugging lightly in time with his motions. Occasionally his thumb circles your clit, causing your hips to jerk, but the angle stops him from keeping it constant. He pulls his hand away, and you take a bracing breath, coming back to your senses as the sensations fade.

He drops back from his knees, one arm behind his head as he lays back. He locks his eyes on yours as he strokes himself, his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“Come on, then,” he prompts, his hand languid and lazy on his cock. Your body buzzes as you climb over him and sink down, letting him fill you, stretch you, break you into pieces. You ride him hard, one hand splayed on his flushed chest for balance, as around you the wind picks up, the leaves on the trees fluttering.

Yoongi’s eyes screw closed and his head tips back, even as his hands continue to guide your hips through each rise and fall.

You slow, savoring the drag against your walls, savoring his pretty skin beneath your fingers, savoring the grunts and hitched breaths he’s trying to hold back.

You could have loved Yoongi. In another life, where you had chips to bargain with. In a life where you fit into place within the village, where wild wasn’t as necessary to you as air. Even if the Queen had never called for Yoongi’s head - this life never meant for you to love him.

This is what you think about as you lightly rake your nails down his chest, watching him squirm beneath you. You think about all the times he’d been on the edge of saying it.

You think about all the times the feeling had risen up in you, as warm as a patch of sunlit floor, and you’d had to blow it away like an errant dandelion seed.

Maybe you do love him. You just can’t forget - not for a second - how little it matters.

The knife sits where you’d dropped it before undressing, just past Yoongi’s head.

You could probably reach it now.

Yoongi seems to sense the change in your motions and cracks an eye open, his fingers on your hips loosening.

His gaze follows yours. A flash of lightning makes the metal shine for a split second, and then you’re surrounded by the sudden patter of falling rain.

“Guess we better hurry,” Yoongi mutters, reaching up to grip the back of your neck and pulling you down so your chest is flush with his.

All thoughts leave your mind as he hammers into you from below - the knife is forgotten. Your feelings are forgotten. The rain, starting to muddy up the ground around you, forgotten.

You cum around him in silence, jaw clenched, fingers digging into his biceps. The groan he lets out as you squeeze around him in waves is drowned out by a growl of thunder that feels like it’s right above you, all around you.

Yoongi pumps into you with abandon, suddenly losing the rhythm he’d created. He gives two more shuddery thrusts and then lets his arms flop to the ground with a contented sigh.

For a second, you both lay there, sweat-slick and panting. Another lightning splits the sky, and the rain comes harder. He slides out of you and you wiggle until you’re laying just next to him instead of on top of him.

You can’t stop looking at him. He seems determined not to look at you.

The rain washes everything away - the smell of sex, your sweat, your affection, your sadness, your pride.

“My father,” he murmurs beneath you, and you go deathly still. “Yes, I knew.”

You swallow, brush rainwater from your brow. “So does the Queen,” you say back. An explanation, and an answer to the why he’d leveled at you an hour ago.

He nods slowly, expression clearing with understanding.

You feel no absolution for it.

Finally, he leans his head back again, his bangs flopping heavily now that they’re saturated with rainwater, and eyes the knife.

You sit up. He brings his eyes to you and watches silently - as if he accepts whatever move you make. As if, should you reach for the metal, he wouldn’t fight you this time.

“Go.” The word tumbles roughly onto the inch of mud between you. You don’t remember making the decision to say it.

He sits up, elbows and shoulders caked with mud. But all he does is watch you, wait for you to change your mind.

“Go,” you repeat, meaning it. Now that you’ve said it once, now that the decision was made, you know it’s the right one. “I’ll tell her it’s done.”

You could never kill him. You both knew it all along.

He dresses wordlessly, and you do the same, pulling your top back over your head and tying up your trouser string. When you look up, he’s standing in the rain, watching you.

You stoop and grab the knife he’d made you. You grip it tightly in your hand, refuse to meet his eyes.

He’s not challenging you, not questioning you - and that, in itself, feels like a slap.

“You can’t come back,” you say, as evenly as you can muster. When he just looks at you, infuriatingly silent, you add, “You can’t. Okay? If she - she can never know.”

“I know,” he says, and then he gives you a long, searching look. He’s drenched now, and your hands itch to push his set hair away from his face, to use your thumbs to chase raindrops - you think - away from his lashline.

Then, choked, he offers, “You could -”

“Don’t,” you bite out, stopping him before he can make you any kind of offer. You can’t. You can’t go with him. You can’t disappear into the night. Your brother is counting on you. You won’t let him pay for your sins.

Yoongi shakes his head. He takes another step closer. Your fingers tighten on the knife’s handle.

“Y/N, I -”

You raise the knife above your head in a flash, eyes going wide in fury.

“Fucking go!” you bark.

He holds up his hands, takes a few steps backwards, giving up his quest to make this harder than it needs to be. Lightning illuminates him and above your head, the blade shines for a split second before everything is cast into inky darkness again.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, trees around you forming a shape again, he’s gone.

You don’t follow him, and you don’t return to your cabin. You sink to your knees in the mud, dropping the knife onto the ground, and sob into your hands, the noise swallowed by the flurry of rain and the intermittent cracks of thunder.

—

You sleep. You hunt. When the time comes, you bring your scores to the Queen atop your wagon.

She doesn’t ask you about Yoongi. You don’t offer her anything, just thank her for her grace routinely when she orders your purse to be filled.

You don’t stop at the tavern on the way back home. You don’t stop at any of the shops - not this time. You don’t trust yourself to act right if Yoongi’s disappearance gets brought up. You don’t trust that no one will do the math that he vanished four nights ago, and now you’re a hollowed shell who can’t form words.

The townspeople have seen you grieve before. They’d know what they were seeing.

The next trip is easier, and the one after that even more. The Queen never thanks you, not that you expected it, but you start finding an extra purse of coins in your wagon each time you return to it after bringing in your kills.

The price for your silence. The price for what she thinks you’ve done.

It hurts the most when your wagon passes the smithy, but you keep your eyes on the cobblestones and your hands on the reins and eventually the hurt fades along with the village as you get farther and farther away.

The seasons turn. The hurts fade. You send extra money to your brother. You sleep. You hunt.

Eventually, you stop waking up from nightmares that feature the glint of metal. You stop waking up trying desperately to cling to your dreams as fruitlessly as clinging to smoke, left with only damp places on your pillow and the memory of a low, throaty chuckle ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you can ride past the smithy without the pang in your chest. You can stop for a pint without watching the shadows for the appearance of a gummy smile. You can laugh when the bartender cracks a joke, can sound like yourself when you ask the baker’s daughter how she’s been faring.

It is after one of these trips, deep into color-saturated autumn, that you return to your cabin with wagon empty and purses full.

Something isn’t right. You freeze, casting your eyes around the forest, but it holds its secrets tight.

On the ground in front of your door, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight, is a brand new, shining blade.

thank you so much for reading!!! i really really like this one and i hope you do too!! <3

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi angst #fairy tale au #fic: the price

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misshoneyimhome · 2 months

Text

「2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION」

“I like waking up with you” I Nico Hischier (🌺)

Summary; While Nico Hischier may struggle with expressing his emotions, leading to occasional frustrations and arguments, a strong relationship can withstand any challenge.

Tropes & warnings; no warnings; strangers to lovers, couples fight; very mild-smut descriptions;

Other notes; so as I finished, I sort of realised that it doesn’t really have much plot - it’s just pure fluff; still hope it’s readable 😅 inspired by the lyrics from ‘PILLOWTALK’ by Zayn Malik 🤍

Word count; 1.7K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

You and Nico fell in love quicker than you ever imagined possible. In a way, it felt as if fate had brought you together on purpose, weaving your lives into a beautiful tapestry of love and passion. It was as simple as the fairy tales you grew up with; from the moment you met him on that crisp autumn evening, you knew your life would change forever. It was love at first sight.

Your love story began at something as simple as a charity event for the New Jersey Devils, right at the start of the hockey season. It was a night filled with glamour and excitement, the room adorned in the team's red, white, and black colours.

You were there as a friend of one of the team’s partners, however, as the event had unfolded, you suddenly found yourself standing alone, without the companion you’d arrived with.

Yet, in a mere moment, lost in thoughts as you gazed into thin air, among the buzzing crowd, your eyes suddenly met Nico Hischier's. His big, brown golden eyes captivated you instantly, sparking a connection you simply couldn't deny.

And to your surprise, Nico confidently made his way through the crowd in your direction, never breaking eye contact. And when he stood before you, his smile was nothing but magnetic.

"Hello," he said, his voice smooth with a hint of a sweet yet rough accent. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Though his boldness took you aback, there was just something about him that had you drawn in. And before you knew it, you were engrossed in deep conversation, completely oblivious to the world around you.

"I must admit," Nico said with a playful glint in his eyes, "I didn't expect to meet someone as captivating as you at this event."

His words warmed you, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks. "I could say the same about you," you replied with a soft smirk, completely unable to look away from him.

And as the night then progressed, you felt an unexpected strong and deep connection to the Swiss captain, as if you'd known each other for ages. So as the evening slowly drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that this might just be the beginning of something extraordinary.

To say the least, you were absolutely right. As the weeks passed and turned into months, your connection with Nico only grew stronger. And before long, despite your initial hesitation, you moved from being just good friends to something definite more.

It was no secret between you, that you’d had concerns, influenced by the idea of dating a professional hockey player with a demanding lifestyle and packed schedule. However, Nico dispelled those worries with his steadfast commitment to you. He didn't just start calling you his girlfriend sooner than expected; he proudly introduced you to everyone as his partner anywhere you went, demonstrating his dedication through every word and deed. In a way, it was quite remarkable how, despite the demands of his career, he always found time for you, placing your relationship above all else.

Because Nico's life as a hockey player did indeed involve frequent travel, rigorous training sessions, and the pressure of performing on the ice. There were nights when he returned home exhausted, his body aching from a challenging game. Yet, even in those moments, he never failed to show you love and appreciation. Whether through a heartfelt text before bed or a lengthy phone call while on the road, he made sure you felt valued and cared for.

And especially one aspect of your relationship that remained constant was the physical connection you shared. The chemistry between you was electric, igniting flames of desire that grew hotter with each passing moment. Your intimate moments together were nothing short of explosive, leaving you both breathless and exhilarated every time.

Incredible sex became a defining feature already in the very beginning of your relationship, the kind that would make the neighbours blush and the walls tremble. But you never paid any attention to the noise complaints or the curious glances from passers-by. In those moments of passion, it was just you and Nico, lost in each other's embrace, consumed by the intensity of your love.

During those intimate moments, you felt the deepest connection with Nico, as the barriers between you dissolved and you revealed your souls to each other in the most vulnerable and intimate way possible. Every time you lay intertwined in the aftermath, your bodies still tingling with pleasure, you were certain that you were in love.

However, naturally, challenges arose along the way. No relationship is without its flaws, including yours. Arguments erupted over missed dates or suddenly cancelled plans, tensions escalating like an impending storm. Yet, as always, Nico had a knack for smoothing over rough patches, turning conflict into connection. With just a smile or a tender gesture, he could transform the atmosphere between you from a war zone into a paradise.

It was a turbulent relationship, to say the least. Nico's ability to express his absolute joy and deep love for you was unmatched, his affection evident in every touch and whispered word. But beneath that outward display of affection lay a layer of resilience and reticence when it came to his concerns and fears.

And it didn't take you long to notice that he tended to bottle up his negative emotions, keeping his worries hidden deep inside. Nico was skilled at putting on a brave face, particularly as the team captain, even when the weight of the world seemed to be bearing down on him. And while you admired his strength and resilience, it also led to frustration and tension between you.

There were times when you wished he would open up, and share his fears and insecurities with you. However, whenever you broached the subject, he would shut down, enveloping himself in silence. In those moments, the distance between you almost felt insurmountable, like an unbridgeable chasm. But, no matter how bad your arguments could be, Nico never let you go to bed angry or sad.

One evening, after a rather heated argument, you sat on the edge of his bed, tension thick between you.

"I'm sorry, y/n," Nico said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to shut you out like that. Sometimes I just feel the need to be strong for everyone else, and I forget that it's alright to lean on you too."

His words resonated deeply within you, highlighting the complexities of his role both on and off the ice. You reached out, taking his hand and gently squeezing it as you met his gaze.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Nico," you reassured him, your voice gentle yet firm. "I'm here for you, through thick and thin. We're a team, remember?"

And a faint smile slowly grew and played on Nico's lips as he nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I know," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "And I'm thankful for you every day, y/n. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Navigating the highs and lows of your relationship required a delicate balance. Yet, through it all, your love for each other remained unwavering, and you were determined to face the challenges together, hand in hand.

In fact, maintaining this steadfastness was surprisingly simple; Nico never allowed you to even consider the idea of walking away. And truth be told, you had no desire to. Despite the ups and downs, everything between you felt pure, raw, and intensely passionate.

The past year had been nothing but a whirlwind for both of you, with highs of victories and lows of defeats. Throughout it all, you had been each other's support, standing strong through thick and thin. And with the off-season offering a brief break from the hockey season's demands, you cherished every moment spent together, aware that Nico would soon be back on the ice, fully engrossed in the game.

Then as the autumn leaves then began to change, marking the start of a new season, Nico's excitement was beyond palpable. He simply couldn't contain his joy at the prospect of another year filled with his beloved sport and the woman who had captivated his heart.

And as you lay together in the gentle morning light, Nico's words enveloped you like a warm embrace, filling you with love and affection. His vulnerability caught you off guard, as his declaration of love lifted your spirits.

"I like waking up with you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion, echoing the sentiment you had shared countless times before.

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth flooding through you at the depth of his affection. You gently reached out, brushing your fingers against his stubbled jaw as you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips.

“I like waking up with you too…” you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness.

But it was evident there was more on his mind. "I can’t believe I have you in my life... I love you, y/n…" Nico's voice quivered with emotion, his gaze locked on yours as if seeking reassurance.

And you couldn’t deny the way your heart swelled with love for him, mirrored in the depths of his gaze. "Nico," you whispered, reaching out to stroke his hair, "I love you too, more than words can express."

The moment hung heavy with emotion and possibility. Then, with a surge of determination, Nico voiced the question he'd been pondering for a while.

"Move in with me, y/n," he implored, hope and longing evident in his eyes. "Please. I want us to wake up together every day, fall asleep in each other's arms. Will you move in with me?"

And you couldn’t help but let a tear slowly well in your eye at the sincerity of his request, overwhelmed with love for the man before you. So without hesitation, you simply enveloped him in your arms, whispering your answer in his ear.

"Yes, Nico," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion, "Of course I'll move in with you.”

As you held each other in the gentle dawn light, surrounded by the promise of a new beginning, you knew this was just the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your love story. With Nico by your side, you felt ready to face whatever the future held, confident that together, you could overcome anything.

#2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ followers celebration #nico hischier imagine #nico hischer x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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sweetiecutie · 7 months

Note

AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink

A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention

• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.

• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.

• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*

• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.

NSFW here~*•.

• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.

• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.

• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.

• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.

• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3

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ad15124 · 8 months

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I'm sorry but no Pixar movie will ever live up to the best one. a hot shot entirely arrogant and egotistical yet ultimately lonely young guy lands up in the middle of a small town before a big race, and having destroyed it's road by accident is now forced to rebuild it? slaps. he meets a beautiful woman who won't take any of his bullshit? wonderful. he realises the old grandpa is a washed up hero that people turned their back on after he came back from an injury, now residing amongst people who love and care for him and he thinks the guy will ruin the town he lives in? dear god I am in love. the young-un meets someone of a sort he once looked down on and they have fun together, and he finally finds a best friend? I will cry. the hotshot falls in love with the town, the town that has long since left the public eye, and the grandpa shows him how self-centred he's been his entire life? please I'm crumbling. the rockstar helps everyone in town, makes them all feel loved and heard and finally feels at home before the paparazzi find him and drag him to his competition, the door closing on his found family just as he's connected with them, all apparently because the grandpa gave them a call? I'm furious! him losing focus at the competition only to hear the grandpa in his headset and go “yeah yeah it's just - wait WHAT” and find that they all came to watch and the grandpa is his coach now all because the best friend didn't get to say goodbye? god I'm squealing with joy! the old dude in his last race ends up in an accident and this boy stops in his tracks, remembers how his coach was disgraced the same way and helps push him to the finish line? I am sobbing. “there's more to racing than just winning” same line as the start, but where earlier it was to impress the camera, this time it's from the bottom of the heart. banging my fists on the table “you got a lot of stuff kid” the grandpa says to the boy, pride, forgiveness and acceptance mingle as I begin to wail. the new racing headquarters will be built in the town, it's back on the map. I am hopping up and down out of sheer jubilation. oh and they're all cars btw. what more do you want?

#aalutalks #original cars #cars #pixar #cars movie #cars 2006 #cars pixar #pixar cars

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wasawattpadkid · 1 year

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Housewife

Part - 14

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: Poly! ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: ⚠️smut 18+⚠️ murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, homophobic slang, explicit boyxboy, oral (male and fem! receiving), fingering (fem! receiving), the word "rapist" is used once as a joke by Stu way before any smut begins, p in v, safe sex, foul language, voyeurism (?)

Part 1

The car purred as they drove down the highway. You were cuddled up in the back with Stu as Billy drove home. "Do you love me?" The question was so random Billy almost thought he was hearing things. "Huh?" Stu patted your hair as he looked out the window. "It's fine if you don't, I just wanted to know." It wasn't fine if he didn't. Stu knew he loved Billy unconditionally. It was almost obsessive the way he adored that boy. As Stu looked at your sleeping form he started to think about how he felt like he loved you. It wasn't the same sort of love he had for Billy. No, he hadn't known you long enough to feel that way. Stu would kill for you but that didn't mean much coming from him. He knew if a car was coming towards you he'd push you out of the way even if it meant killing him. Was that love or just being suicidal?

Billy looked at his friend in the mirror seeing his gaze focused outside. "Why would you ask that?" Billy wasn't mad or upset by the question just startled. He didn't do feelings. Sure, he had them but he wishes he didn't. They tend to overcomplicate things.

"I don't see how this relationship is going to work out if you don't love me. I've seen the way you look at her. Tonight when we were playing games at the arcade you stared at her like she was the only person on earth. You don't look at me like that. I-I just need to know if it's because I'm not new or you don't love me."

His words were strange to Billy. Never in their expansive time of knowing each other did they have heart to hearts. Billy was raised not to cry and not to reach out. Being upset meant you were acting like a child. "To be honest I don't know." Billy tried to pick his words carefully not because he was trying to manipulate but rather because he was trying to tell the truth. After so many lies he found it hard to understand what the truth was. "You don't know?" Stu couldn't grasp how someone couldn't know if they were in love or not.

"I don't know. I thought I loved Sydney but maybe I did get bored. You know that scares the shit out of me. Getting tired of you and Y/n? What if I wake up one day and the smell of her cooking disgusts me? What- what if I can't stand the sound of your voice anymore? I don't want to lose this. I had the best time of my fucking life tonight but oh it might not matter down the road because I got too comfortable." Billy's hand hit the steering wheel in anger. The more Billy talked the more he pissed himself off. Stu tilted his head like a dog processing everything he just learned. "You love us." Stu said a smile playing at his lips. Billy's face contorted in confusion. He just hit the steering wheel in anger but Stu was in the back seat blushing.

"How do you know?" Billy turned the corner focusing back on the road. "If you're worried about losing us then obviously you love us at least a little bit." Billy doubted it was that simple. Nothing ever was. Stu was always an optimistic person. He thought everything would work out eventually. That's not how life worked. "If you say so." The car pulled into the driveway and then the garage. "She's still asleep should I wake her up?" Billy shook his head. "No she's been taking care of our asses all week she needs the rest. Just pack her upstairs and put her to bed." Stu gently pulled you out of the car carrying you like a bride into the house.

Carefully he made it up the steps watching so he wouldn't accidentally hit your head. He nudged your bedroom door open with his boot trying not to make too much noise. Stu laid you in bed as comfortably as he could. You looked so peaceful to him. He pulled the covers up over you making sure to tuck you in. Stu pressed a kiss to your forehead before he left the room shutting the door behind him.

"She still asleep?" Billy asked as he folded up the basket of laundry you left out. "I thought she was dead for a second." The joke went over Billy's head causing concern. "I'm kidding she's fine. She drools in her sleep." Stu said making Billy laugh. "Did you have fun tonight?" The dark-haired boy was trying to make this work. Stu sat on the couch leaving Billy to fold up clothes. "I had a wonderful time especially since I absolutely demolished your ass in Mortal Kombat." Billy just rolled his eyes telling himself he let his partner win. "You looked good tonight." Stu glanced up in shock. He wasn't the complimenting type and he sure as hell never complimented Stu.

Billy kept his eyes on the clothes not wanting to make eye contact with Stu. This was what actual couples did right? "Thank you." The room was silent. Stu thought of his words before he said them. "You looked handsome tonight too." Handsome. The word made something turn inside Billy. For a second it felt like he couldn't breathe. Maybe he was going to vomit? "Thanks." Was all Billy could come with. It was unbearably awkward but Stu couldn't help but smile. "Do you need help folding? I can't do shirts but I can do pants."

You woke up in a hot sweat. It felt like you had died. If someone asked what year it was you couldn't tell them. The last thing you remember was eating food at a restaurant with Billy and Stu. "Damnit." You rubbed your eyes trying to see in the dark room. The clock said it was 11 o'clock but it felt like you'd been asleep for days. You threw on an unflattering nightgown before you headed downstairs. The boys laughed while watching some loud TV show.

"She's alive!" Stu exclaimed like he was Dr. Frankenstein. "How'd you sleep?" Billy asked looking at your disheveled state. "Water." You rasped walking like the grim reaper over to the sink. Cold tap water seemed to coat your throat helping you wake up just a little bit more. You walked over to the couch throwing yourself on top of the men. "What are you watching?" You asked as Stu giggled at some guy getting hit over the head on screen. "The Monkees! It comes on your old lady channel. I haven't seen it since I was a kid." You looked over at Billy seeing him shrug his shoulders. "He's been laughing for the past 30 minutes."

"You're not hard to please huh?" Stu pinched the tip of your nose. "Obviously not, I'm with you aren't I?" You faked a laugh as you stared at the tv. Stu's hand ran up and down your leg just like it had the first night they came over. His eyes were glued to the TV laughing every time something even remotely funny happened. Billy would chuckle just because his friend was laughing. There was something different between them but you couldn't put your finger on it. The date night you had might've had some effect. All three of you felt closer, it felt more normal if that was even a possibility.

"I think I want to have sex with you two." You blurted making both men freeze. You immediately covered your face regretting speaking. "Like right now?" Stu asked ready to strip. "No, well, oh I don't know." You groaned with embarrassment. Billy stayed quiet letting you say everything you wanted to. You sat up on the couch looking at the two men sitting beside each other. "Couples have sex right?" They nodded in unison. "We're like a couple right?" They nodded even quicker trying to fill in the blanks for you. "So we should have sex-" Stu reached to take off his shirt but you stopped him. "At some point." You finished making the boy frown.

"Why'd you bring this up?" Billy asked. Between you and Stu randomly bringing up touchy subjects he was liable to get whiplash. You rubbed your face with your hands trying to get a grip. "I was just thinking about it. I have been... thinking about it." Stu knew if anyone could overcomplicate sex it'd be you. "Guys I'm scared."

It was the honest truth. You were terrified. "Of what?" The tone Stu had seemed to dismiss whatever emotion you felt. "Nothing it's dumb." You stood up only to be pulled back down by Billy. "No talk to us. What are you scared of?" Billy made demanding eye contact with you just to show he took this conversation seriously this time. "You?" The word came out like a question. That question seemed to negatively affect both boys. Stu was gutted that you were scared of him even worse that it was sex-related. You grabbed Billy and Stu's hands not wanting them to think it was all their fault. "Men in general are scary. I'm not scared of you exactly more of what you could do." That somehow made less sense to them both.

"Stu, do you remember the other night when we were wrestling?" He smiled remembering how funny that whole thing was. "Yeah, I beat your ass." He said proudly. Billy seemed to understand what you were getting at by Stu's response. "I could give it my all and you both could still trap me. I don't stand a chance and it's frightening. What if in the middle of it all you decide to-" Billy moved forward putting both of his hands on your arms. "We would never do that." Stu scoffed sitting up next to you. "Yeah we may be killers but we're not rapists." Billy looked at Stu like he could kill him making the boy sit back and shut up.

"Y/n I'm really trying," Billy spoke as you nodded. "I've noticed." He smiled continuing his speech. "I don't and would never want to hurt you. That night that Stu's place I couldn't put you through that pain." He gestured to your closed-up wound. "I know but I joke around a lot. I say I'm into chains and whips but I'm scared of all of that. I don't want to feel like I'm stuck and with two of you it's pretty damn intimidating." You had got this idea in your head that anything intimate with the men would leave you used and torn apart.

"I joke around like crazy you don't think I'm being serious do you?" Both you and Billy looked at Stu. "Wow tell me what you really think." You laughed making Stu smile at his accomplishment. "Hey." Billy's hand rested on the side of your face pulling your attention back to him. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Do you understand?" The words were sharp but they weren't angry. Billy meant what he said. As long as he was living no one would lay a finger on you besides him and Stu. You nodded as he smiled. "Wait so are we sleeping together or?" Stu was just really confused. Before Billy could smack him you stood up. "I'm going to take a shower and freshen up. You two can do whatever you want." Without looking at the men you walked upstairs heading to your bathroom.

Billy jumped off the couch making Stu sit up. "What? What's wrong?" Stu asked looking up at the man. "She said she's going to freshen up." Billy shook his hands for emphasis. He could see Stu simply wasn't getting it. "That's like the universal term for "we're going to have sex." How do you not know that?" Stu stood up a small "pfft" leaving his mouth. "No the universal term for we're going to have sex is "Hey we're going to have sex."" Billy's palm slapped his forehead before dragging down his face. "Listen just go clean up and change I'm going to take care of a couple things." With a nod, Stu went off to his room.

Billy waited on the stairs till he heard the water start to run. Your room was empty but the record you played was loud. The Smashing Pumpkins vinyl spun around letting Billy's favorite song play. He could barely hear you humming the words in the bathroom. You remembered. That fact made his heart seem to swell. It wasn't what you normally listened to. All he heard the past week was what you called "classics." Now there you were in the privacy of your room listening to his favorite album. With a smile, he got to work. The first thing he did was make your bed. Once it was neat he made sure the room looked comfortable. He noticed the candle you had sitting on your dresser. Billy headed downstairs to ask Stu for his lighter.

Stu's bedroom door opened hitting Billy with a cloud of cologne. "Jesus fucking Christ!" The boy cursed waving a hand in front of his face. "Too much?" Stu asked innocently. Billy huffed not having time to deal with him. "She's not going to let you in the room let alone her bed smelling like that." Stu thought he smelt good, you had complimented him on his cologne before. "Change your shirt and pants and air out this damn room." Billy was about to leave before remembering why he came down there in the first place. "Oh, I need your lighter." Stu dug through his dresser tossing the skull-covered lighter to the man. "What do you need that for?" Stu pointed towards the object. "I'm going to light a candle." Stu held up his hand covering his mouth with a laugh. Billy's face dropped at his friend's laughter. "Shut it fuckrag." Billy pointed at Stu but it didn't stop him from laughing.

Upstairs you had already stepped out of the shower pulling the cap off your head. You hung the shower cap up before wrapping a towel around your frame. You didn't know what to expect. Billy's little speech downstairs did wonders for your nerves. Were you still terrified? Yes but for some dumb reason, you trusted them. You had this nagging feeling you'd regret it. You willed yourself to believe in the fantasy land you've created. Sex wasn't something you'd grown accustomed to. That day playing truth or dare barely felt real. There wasn't much emotion behind it just teenage hormones. You weren't upset about it you just hoped this would be different. As your skin dried off you slipped a pair of underwear on covering them with one of Stu's shirts.

Billy sat at the edge of your bed biting his nails. He had to repeatedly tell himself he was trying to be better, to do what you asked. As you walked out of the bathroom he stood up. You could tell he was nervous by the way his eyes darted back and forth between you and the door. "I thought we could talk. You like talks right?" His smile was tight as he raised his eyebrows. You saw your bedroom door was closed completely leaving Stu out of the conversation. "I'm fine with talking but we made it a rule to include everyone when we talked." Billy watched as you walked over to your record player. The way you took care of the fragile vinyl said something about your character, at least he thought it did. "I know but I already asked Stu if it was okay and he said it was."

"I get that but we should have conversations together." Billy grew impatient. "Just!" The word was loud scaring him when he said it. You looked at him waiting for him to fix his tone before speaking to you. "Just.. please? I need to talk to you alone." You put the record on the shelf debating on talking to him in private. Billy was a complicated man. You didn't want to throw away the chance of getting him to open up. "Okay. What do you need to talk about?" You walked over to Billy's side sitting down with him at the foot of the bed. "You want this to be equal. Meaning this is a group effort right?"

"This?" You asked as Billy's leg bounced with anxiety. That little voice in his head told him he couldn't do this. "Sex." Was all he said. "I would like it to be that way, yes. I don't want anyone feeling left out." He nodded understanding what you meant. You couldn't begin to grasp how difficult this conversation was to him.

"Look if you want us to sleep with you that's fine but I don't want this thing me and Stu do to disturb you." His wording was intentional. To him sex with you was normal but sex with Stu was just a "thing." It was shameful to him. "I-I um..." He ran a hand through his hair keeping his eyes on the ground. "I don't want you to look at me differently after this." You didn't know what to say to make it better. There was no easy fix. Billy raised his arms in surprise as you wrapped your arms around him. His arms slowly found their way around you hugging you back. It was comforting. Billy didn't like hugs. This one however made him feel safe. You had him and you weren't letting go. Who he is didn't seem to bother you and knowing that lifted a weight off his shoulders. "Should I let Stu in now?" He spoke gently.

You nodded pulling back from the boy. Billy stood up opening the bedroom door. Stu came tumbling into the room. "I didn't hear anything." He swore picking himself off the ground. "Not for lack of trying." You smiled knowing Stu was eavesdropping. Billy made sure to close the door behind Stu locking it in place. The action wasn't lost on you. Something was different. Billy had no problem with what happened in your living room just weeks ago. The fact he was locking your bedroom door knowing no one else was in the house was odd. It was for security you supposed. The reassurance that no one could walk in. Your curtains were also closed but you knew you left them open just a few hours earlier.

"Here ya go." Stu pitched Billy a small bottle. "What's that?" You asked getting a quick and easy answer from Stu. "Oh, it's lube." He pulled two condoms from his pocket sitting them on your nightstand. You were out of your element. "If you don't want to do this I need you to let me know." Stu said wanting your full consent. This was a first for all of you, he didn't want to mess it up. "I want this, it just feels like you're both prepping for surgery."

Billy held the bottle in tight hands hoping to warm up the cold liquid inside. Stu chuckled finding his spot next to you on the bed. "I get that trust me but none of us here want kids yet and the lube is just to make sure you're comfortable."

Yet. The word pulled at pieces of Billy's brain. The thought of having kids was not something he wanted to worry about right now. With a shake of the head, he walked over to both of you. "Listen, we don't have to do this." Billy still had this unremitting feeling that things would change. You'd see him as some perverted homo and wouldn't want him near you again. He was ashamed of who he was and what he did but if you wanted this he'd do it. Both men looked at you trying to pick up on any signs of hesitation.

Stu was careful about consent the last time anything happened between the three of you. His behavior hadn't changed any. Billy's new behavior was something to get used to. His nail-biting, soft-spoken nature was different than the rude and demanding one you had got to know. "I want to do this but if one of you is uncomfortable we can just go to bed. You don't have to sleep downstairs." The promise of just sleeping next to you was tempting for Billy. He knew this would have to happen sooner or later. "I'm ready whenever you two are." Stu said as he peeled his shirt off. Billy slipped the bottle into his pocket before leaning down to you.

"I need you to say it."

His face was serious but not cold. "Say what?" The air between you two was nearly suffocating. Billy's voice was low as he spoke. "I need you to say you want this, you want me." Billy's hands rubbed the soft skin on your thighs as Stu stripped down to his underwear. You looked at his hands the eye contact quickly becoming intimidating. "I want-"

"Look at me, please." With a shaky breath, you looked back up meeting Billy's eyes. "I need this. I need you, Billy." There it was. That possessive glint you'd seen before. Any minute now he'd be demanding and rough. His lips softly pressed against yours. The kiss was slow and careful. Billy tried to remember the way your lips felt in case you threw him out after tonight. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip signaling your lips to part. Billy pulled away smiling at the love-drunk look on your face. "Let me help with that." Stu helped pull your shirt over your head leaving you in just your panties. "I was right. You look even better out of my shirt." Stu said making your cheeks heat up. Billy's shirt was the next to go. Stu cupped your chin before leaning in to kiss you. It was hungrier than the kiss before.

Billy watched his two partners with some semblance of pride. They were his. For how long he wasn't sure. In the end, it didn't matter because right now in this bedroom, he had them and for some reason, they agreed to have him. Stu squeezed your breast making a small noise leave your lips. Billy went back to work pulling down the fabric that hugged your hips. You raised up just enough to make his job easier. He tossed the underwear in the same spot his shirt had landed.

Stu laid back on the bed taking you with him. For a split second, you forgot Billy was even there. He made his presence known by pressing a kiss to your abdomen. Then another on your hip. Stu broke the kiss watching the scene next to him. You looked down at Billy as he littered your skin with kiss after kiss. He eventually made his way down pressing a kiss on your folds. Stu saw the way your chest jumped ever so slightly. He wondered if he told you how beautiful you were today but even if he did it wasn't nearly enough. As Billy's tongue ran up and down your folds, his eyes flickered up toward Stu. Your soft moans accompanied by Billy's gaze made his cock twitch. Stu picked your hand up moving it where he needed you most. Softly you began rubbing him through his boxers feeling him strain against the fabric. The moan that came from Stu made you continue your movements. It was hard to focus with Billy going at you like a man starved. Billy's eyes would go back and forth mainly focused on the man you helped please.

Being watched stirred something in Stu and Billy noticed. The short-haired boy removed his underwear with haste needing to feel you against his skin. Your hand wrapped perfectly around his cock. The pumps were gentle at first not knowing what Stu liked. His moans and the quiet chant of your name kept your hand moving. Billy pulled your clit between his lips making your back arch off the bed. Stu let out a lustful cry at the feeling of your hand squeezing around him. You didn't mean to do it at first but the new information only helped you tease him. Every few pumps you'd gently squeeze his cock earning a beautiful sound from Stu each time.

Billy's tongue continued its assault as he slowly pushed two fingers into your cunt. Hearing the sounds you made mixed with Stu's was enough to make him cum right then and there. It took everything in him not to. Billy smiled against you feeling your hips try to meet the thrust of his fingers. He doubted you were even aware of what you were doing. Too busy pleasing the man next to you. Your free hand tugged on Billy's hair needing more of him. Billy pulled out his fingers before moving to stand up. You groaned at the loss. With his eyes on you, Billy sucked his fingers clean of your slick even a soft moan could be heard like it was the best thing he's ever tasted.

"We've got to take turns right? Everything has to be fair and equal?" He teased moving in front of Stu. The boy looked at Billy silently asking him if he was sure he wanted to do this. Billy motioned his head upwards telling Stu to sit up. The boy complied sitting on the edge of the bed. You sat up making sure you didn't miss anything. Billy took a deep breath seeing you watch him. He knelt in front of Stu grabbing the man's erection. "Ah!" Stu exclaimed looking down at the man in front of him. With a trained hand, Billy stroked Stu's cock.

You squeezed your thighs together at the sight. Billy leaned forward spitting on the tip letting the liquid run slowly down the veins. Using his hand he pumped Stu's cock the spit making it easier for his hand to slide up and down. He knew what spots to pay attention to. Stu's moans were louder than before. His abs were prominent as his muscles tightened. Billy with a sly grin licked a stripe from the base to the tip. He kept his eyes on Stu not being able to look up at you. Stu turned his head pressing his lips to yours. He moaned into your mouth as Billy wrapped his lips around the tip of his cock. His tongue swirled around making Stu's hips jerk. Stu's breath was uneven as his chest heaved up and down.

"Fuck." Stu cursed against your lips as Billy slid his mouth over the man's length. With a moan, Stu's head fell back leaving you to watch them without interruption. Billy could feel your eyes burn into his skin. That insecurity slowly started to creep back up distracting him from the man under his touch.

Stu grabbed your hand squeezing as his orgasm rapidly approached. "I-I'm going to cum." Stu warned with a whine. Billy continued sucking knowing if he didn't there would be a mess to clean up. His eyes closed tight as Stu cried out. Stu chanted a mixture of your and Billy's names. Billy let Stu ride out his orgasm before he looked to the floor swallowing the evidence of the sinful act. Stu laid back on the bed letting the newfound clarity wash over him. Billy's lips were swollen and his cheeks were red. You'd never seen him look like this until now.

Billy didn't dare look up knowing he'd see the disgust in your eyes. "Billy?" Hearing his name made him feel sick. You waited for him to look at you but he refused. He rubbed his eyes wanting to erase everything that had just happened. Billy looked up immediately apologizing for something he didn't need to. You cut him off grabbing his face and pressing your lips on his. You could taste Stu on his lips and it spurred you on more. Billy was shocked. You broke the kiss to look at him. "I need you." Your hands tugged on the waistband of his jeans greedily. How was he supposed to be calm and careful when you acted like this?

"Say it again." His voice was low and demanding making your cunt throb. "I need you." You happily repeated yourself seeing the way it brought his confidence back. Billy stood up unbuckling his belt right in front of you. You focused on the way his hands pulled the leather off with ease. He grabbed the bottle of lube tossing it on the bed. His jeans were quickly discarded along with his underwear.

You looked at Billy's naked form growing embarrassed by the view. "Baby throw me one of those." Billy pointed towards the condoms. Stu was happy to toss the package over. He was well aware of how hard it was for Billy to do what he did. Stu no longer felt like a dirty secret. You crawled up onto the bed as Billy opened the black wrapper. "Here lift your hips up." Stu grabbed a pillow slipping it between you and the bed. The feeling of your hips in the air was odd but you figured Stu knew what he was doing.

Billy slid the condom over his length with ease. The man debated on asking you once again if you were alright with this. You wiggled your hips impatiently. That small gesture was all Billy needed. Stu grabbed the lube squirting a little in his hand. He kissed your neck as his fingers smeared the jelly over your entrance. Billy crawled on the bed settling between your legs. Stu's eyes watched as Billy lined himself up with your cunt. You closed your eyes scared of the pain you've heard so many people talk about. Stu continued to smother you in affection as Billy slowly pushed into you.

It wasn't near as bad as you expected it to be. You tried not to focus on the stretch as he bottomed out. Billy cursed trying to hold still. "You okay?" Stu asked and you nodded. Billy's hips started to move to find a rhythm you were both comfortable with. Stu wrapped his lips around your nipple getting hit with a feeling of deja vu. Billy held onto your hips as he thrusts into you. He had to remind himself over and over that he needed to be gentle. Stu was used to his partner's fast and rough routine so seeing him struggle was almost humorous.

Your breath hitched as Stu tugged at your breasts. His teeth teased your skin making goosebumps flood your flesh. Billy watched as his partner left small hickies in places no one but the two of them could see. "Faster..." You moaned one hand squeezing Billy's wrist. The man's pace quickened making the sound of skin on skin even louder. It seemed the faster he got the tighter your muscles became. Stu abandoned your side sitting up to kiss the man between your thighs. Billy's free hand wrapped around Stu's throat squeezing just enough to keep him still. You moaned watching the men as Billy's thrusts continued to knock the air out of you. Billy's borderline whimpers did nothing but fuel your arousal. "Don't stop!" You cried out making Billy hold off his orgasm just a little longer.

Both men watched as you came undone around Billy's cock. It was one of the most beautiful things they'd ever seen. Billy's thrusts became rough and erratic as that familiar white-hot pleasure twisted inside of him. With one final thrust, his body trembled. Your name like a prayer was said over and over like it was the only thing he could say. For a brief moment, it was the only word that existed.

You winced as Billy pulled out. Stu fell next to you pressing a kiss to your cheek. "How was it?" He asked knowing the answer from previous experience. Billy tied off the condom before disposing of it in your bathroom. "I can't feel my legs." You giggled making Stu laugh. A warm fuzzy feeling covered your naked body. You weren't sure if it was the sex or the overall love you felt from both men. Stu helped move the pillow out from under your hips. Your legs and arms felt like jelly as you moved to cover yourself underneath the blankets. Stu followed suit huddling up next to your naked frame.

Billy left the bathroom grabbing his underwear from the floor. You groaned as you rolled out of bed needing to use the restroom. "Do you need help?" Billy asked seeing your wobbly legs. "Don't get cocky." You said with a laugh walking toward the bathroom. "I wasn't trying to-" You pressed a kiss to his lips silencing the boy. "I'm just messing with you."

He smiled watching your ass as you walked into the bathroom. The door shut behind you leaving both men to themselves. Stu grinned seeing the look on Billy's face. "You love us." He said feeling that bubbly feeling once again. Billy laughed to himself. "You know, you might be right."

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Part 15

A/N: Sorry that this chapter took so long to unload. Theres some serious character development happening and I wanted to make sure I did the characters justice. Hope you're enjoying the series so far!💕

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

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dark-fics-4-you · 1 year

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I have a request!! Rafe whining about reader breaking up with him so when he got to her to sleep with him, he traps her by impregnating her 🤭

Desperate Measures

Warnings: dubcon, smut, toxic relationship, intoxication, drugs, forced pregnancy, unprotected sex

Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Everyone had told you that he was bad news, but it took him threatening to slash all of your tires for simply talking to a male friend for you to finally come to terms with the fact that that relationship just was not going to work.

Rafe Cameron had given you the world, in the beginning. Spoiling you with gifts and expensive dates was the norm. He was a man obsessed, taking up all of your free time. At first, you thought it was cute, after all it was nice to feel fawned over, especially by someone as handsome as Rafe.

You loved the way he would look at you, like he was holding himself back from pulling off all of your clothes, even when you were in public. The clench of his jaw and the way his eyes would darken when you looked up at him from under your lashes excited you.

The honeymoon phase only lasted so long before Rafe’s true colors began to show. He was incredibly jealous and controlling to the point that you had felt suffocated. Not to mention the drug use.

In the beginning, you really had fooled yourself into thinking that he would change for you. That lasted for about 2 days, before it was back to lies and you knowing what the glazed look in his eyes meant, even though Rafe denied it and called you crazy.

It was hard to accept that he would always love drugs more than you. You really didn’t want to believe it, but time and time again, he proved to you that you would always be his second priority.

The break up went about as well as you expected it to, which was awful.

Rafe argued back at every reason you gave, but you both knew that you were in the right.

Rafe’s lip curled, cold eyes narrowing as he hurled insults at you, words that at that point were not unfamiliar to you. ‘Bitch!’ ‘Slut!’ ‘Cunt!’ You were so used to those words coming from him that they no longer had power over you. Still, you couldn’t get out of there fast enough, eventually just standing and turning to leave, cutting him off mid sentence.

You gasped when you felt his fingers digging into your forearm, jerking you back against him.

“Y/N, don’t fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you, alright?” Rafe snarled in anger, and you snapped your gaze from where he was gripping you to his eyes, fear emanating from your panicked expression.

“Rafe,” you began shakily, “let go. Just let me go.”

He didn’t say anything, just glaring at you and breathing heavy. Slowly, he released his hold on your arm, never breaking eye contact. His stare was blank, but you could see his upper lip twitching slightly in anger.

“You’re going to regret this, Y/N. You don’t even know how much you’re going to regret this.” His even tone gave you chills, and you quickly rushed out of the Cameron house, nervously glancing behind yourself to make sure he wasn’t following.

You drove a good distance away from his house before you pulled over to the side of the road to cry. You thought that breaking up with Rafe might have gotten him to leave you alone, but you should have known better.

Rafe was not the type to give up easily, and he was used to getting everything he wanted.

You just knew that you needed to stay away from him, because you really didn’t have any idea what he was capable of.

__________________

Rafe was fucking pissed.

He had been furious the last five days. That was how long it had been since you had told him you couldn’t be with him anymore.

He knew that he had made mistakes, but doesn’t everyone? Rafe had only tried to make you his only priority, and that made him the asshole?

No goddamn way.

Topper nodded along as Rafe rambled in a coked out haze. You had come up in every conversation he had had since the breakup. Topper was starting to get tired of it already.

“You know what you should do, Rafe?”

“What?” Rafe, surprised to hear Topper’s response, looked at his friend with an eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

“You should remind her how good she had it when you were together,” Topper said with a sly smirk and a snicker. “That’s what I do when Sarah starts getting snippy with me.”

“I don’t even know how or when I’m going to see Y/N next, how the fuck am I going to pull that off?” Rafe rolled his eyes before he leaned over the table to snort another line.

“I mean, she’s still friends with Sarah, right?” Topper looked at Rafe with a raised eyebrow. “She might be going to her birthday party.”

“Birthday?” Rafe asked, perking up.

“Dude, how do you not know Sarah’s birthday? She’s probably throwing the party at your house.” This jogged Rafe’s memory and he recalled Sarah had set up plans to have Ward and Rose out of Tannyhill all weekend.

He gave a mindless response, but his thoughts were racing. Rafe was supposed to be going to that party with you. But instead you’d be by Sarah’s side, or maybe even, unthinkably, on the arm of some other guy. The very thought made him seethe with rage. Rafe knew there was no way he would be able to hold himself back from punching anyone who tried to get in between you and him.

But how could he make you realize that you belonged with him? Rafe couldn’t imagine that you would willingly stay with him, you had made that clear when you ran away from him after breaking his heart.

Rafe was sure you weren’t thinking straight. You didn’t give him the chance to prove to you that he could change. He wasn’t allowed to show you how much better he could be.

There had to be some way he could prove to you that he was all in.

_______________

You swayed your hips in time with the music, somehow capturing Rafe’s attention in a sea of moving bodies. He could tell you were a few drinks in, the flush in your cheeks was obvious to him.

Rafe’s tongue darted out to wet his lips at the sight of your low cut top and short skirt. You looked so good, and Rafe couldn’t help but think about the last time he had seen you wearing that skirt, and how quickly he had gotten you out of it.

The blond leaned over the crowded countertop in front of him, bringing a rolled up dollar bill to his nose before snorting the neat line of coke in front of him.

Even though it was Sarah’s party, it was a Kooks only event, and Rafe made sure of that. He would throw out anyone who didn’t belong.

You had spent most of the night with Sarah and your other mutual friends. Rafe had been silently watching you, just to make sure no guys came up to you. He considered himself lucky for that, because he didn’t really want to cause a scene by breaking someone’s nose at his sister’s birthday party, although he definitely would have if he needed to.

Rafe couldn’t understand why you didn’t see how much he cared for you, how much he could give you.

Eyeing the way the fabric of your outfit clung to your skin, which was now glistening with a thin layer of sweat and various sparkles that had rubbed off on you from people’s clothes, Rafe couldn’t stop himself from wandering how it would feel to kiss your neck and smell your perfume. The almost sheer fabric covering your chest was perfectly accentuating your figure, and the memory of your tits bouncing as Rafe fucked you hard into the mattress flashed through his mind.

It was too much to handle, and Rafe pulled his gaze away from you, taking a large swig of the drink in his hand.

He couldn’t lose you to someone else. He wouldn’t let that happen.

_____________

Despite what you had said to reassure Sarah that you would be fine, you couldn’t lie to yourself and say that being in the Cameron house again wasn’t weird as hell to you.

You had spent many nights just upstairs, usually in Rafe’s room. Being back in the lavish mansion had brought up a lot of memories and feeling in you.

As much as you tried to just lose yourself in the music and have fun, it wasn’t working that way. So you decided the best solution to this would be to get drunk.

Topper had kept your cup full all night, popping back in and out to check on you and Sarah, refilling your drink even when you insisted you wanted to slow down. The fruity drinks Sarah had made proved to be much more alcoholic than you thought they were.

You knew that you could only hold off your bladder for so long, eventually yelling into Sarah’s ear that you were going to go to one of the upstairs bathrooms, knowing you could get a little bit of quiet up there too.

You pushed your way through the large crowd, unknowingly catching the eye of your ex-boyfriend. As you slipped around the corner to get to the double staircase, Rafe pulled away from the countertop he was leering over to quietly follow you up the stairs.

You pulled the bathroom door shut, clicking the lock behind you before you used the restroom. You washed your hands, looking into the mirror, and noticing how glazed your eyes looked and how unsteady on your feet you felt. You hadn’t seen Rafe all night, which you were very happy about, but his absence was still weighing heavily on you.

You didn’t like not knowing where he was. It made you nervous.

You dried your hands off with a towel and opened the door to come face to face with Rafe.

Startled, you shrunk away from him instinctively, your shock at seeing him had you unable to speak.

He stared down at you, eyes revealing nothing as he drank you in. Rafe was thrilled to be so close to you again. Close enough he could see the rising and falling of your chest as you anxiously looked down the hall past him.

His voice was barely audible, whispering, “I miss you.”

Your heart stung, the feelings still deep in your heart stirring again. You knew that he had hurt you so much, you knew that nothing good ever came from being with him.

You met his eyes, and you knew in the pit of your gut that you were going to end up in his arms that night.

This didn’t stop you from letting him put his hands all over you, pulling you from the doorway into his room and pushing your back towards the bed.

You sighed into his mouth as he climbed on top of you, tugging at your shirt and lightly pulling your hair.

Rafe breathed in your scent, never wanting you to leave his arms again. He kissed you hard, tilting your head back to deepen it when you allowed his tongue to probe into your mouth.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist, slowly rolling your hips against him, the layers of clothes covering you both frustratingly getting in the way. You felt him getting harder as you pressed to him, and you felt nervously excited to be with Rafe again, the familiar spark in between your thighs reminded you of how much your body missed him.

Rafe removed his shirt, and yours was close to follow, along with your bra. He peppered kisses all over your tits, cupping them and looking into your eyes as his tongue flicked against a hardened bud. You felt like you were melting into his touch. He traced his fingers to your hips, curling one finger around the material covering you before he pulled your panties down, tossing them somewhere in his room.

Rafe pulled away to pull off his shorts and boxers, making himself bare to you. The strong blond pinned your wrists down with one hand and bringing the other to your entrance.

You hissed out a breath when you felt Rafe push one finger into you, arching your back and rolling your hips against his touch.

Rafe groaned at the sight, barely able to hold himself back from just fucking you already. But he needed to stretch you out first.

You whined as Rafe added a second finger, his thumb also now drawing circles on your clit, making your brain short circuit. You bit your lip to quiet yourself, hooded eyes meeting Rafe’s for a moment before his gaze turned back to watching himself fuck you slowly with his fingers. You were so wet, clinging to him and making a mess on his fingers.

Rafe knew how much he needed you. He didn’t think there was any other way to prove how much he needed you.

Your gasps and moans were pushing Rafe on. He knew that what was coming next was going to be so worth it, on every level. He was going to feel you clenching on every single inch of his cock, squeezing him in a way you never had before.

“Rafe, please,” you begged breathlessly. “Please just fuck me. I need it.”

Rafe was more than happy to oblige, pressing his mouth to yours as he pulled his fingers out of you to stroke his cock.

You gasped loudly against his mouth when he pushed the tip into you. Rafe pulled one of your legs to rest on his shoulder as he sunk into you slowly. Your head lolled back against the pillow when he bottomed out, and you tried to catch your breath before he began to slowly rock his hips.

His eyes never left yours, relishing the way they rolled back when he thrust into you harder, or how you looked at him with surprise when his cock brushed a spot that had you seeing stars.

You had never thought you would find yourself in this position again, but there you were, drunk off your ass and in bed with the ex you knew would never change. And the worst thing was that you loved it. You loved the way he fucked you, how he made you feel when he whispered how good you felt, the way he could make you cum around his cock even when you were pissed off at him.

Rafe couldn’t believe how tight you felt around him, fucking you raw was so addictive he was afraid he would never be able to stop. One of his hands found your throat, and when you looked up at him from under your lashes, he squeezed harder, and the moan that left your lips had Rafe almost ready to marry you on the spot.

You were so overstimulated and you couldn’t hold yourself back from being flung over the edge, closing your eyes and whining as Rafe fucked you through your orgasm. You were milking his cock, walls pulsing around him as he spilled his seed deep in you.

You were breathing heavy, and the overstimulation of him continuing to slowly snap his hips against yours made you come a second time. He could feel you clenching harder around him.

“Fuuuck, Y/N. Just keep taking my cum, pretty girl. You look so hot with it leaking out of you.”

You lazily blinked your eyes, his words not registering at first as you met his gaze with a questioning look.

“Rafe..?”

He was still between your legs, his hard cock buried deep in you.

“R-Rafe?” You suddenly remembered the unused condom in your purse, and a wave of terror and nausea washed over you.

Rafe smirked at the panicked look on your face, “shhh, don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve planned it all out.”

“What do you mea-”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, holding you down as you struggled against him. His cock twitched inside you as you fought back, and he pushed you back down by your shoulders and held you in place.

“Don’t you get it?” You hated how Rafe sounded so pleased with himself, thrilled that his plan worked. “We get to pick up right where we left off. And this time, there’s no way I’m letting you go.”

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron dubcon #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #desperate measures

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