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thelikesoffinn · 7 months

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„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 #astarion #the dark urge #tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #bg3 act 1 #bg3 act 2 #bg3 act 3 #act 3 #act 2 #act 1 #araj oblodra

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forgottenflickr · 4 months

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hey, out of curiousity, why are the majority of your posts of people’s pets? is it because like.. these pets are most definitely dead now and you want to share their memory even if you didn’t know that pet? or because theyre just easy to find on dead flickr accounts?

It’s what you first said about sharing their memories, and more specifically the reason for that is that I’ve spent literally my entire life with cats (you’ll notice I mostly post cats) I mean since I was a newborn baby, there has always been at least 2 cats in my house, right now there’s 3.

Also to add on to that, as a little kid I actually had my own digital camera I took pictures on like the ones I share here (the whole reason and passion for this blog really) and I in particular really loved taking pictures of my cats. So it’s kind of personal and nostalgic to me. Here’s one I took of one of my childhood cats Kittenface, died 2013 or 2014 around 20 years old. I don’t know the date on this picture, but I probably took it 2008-2011.

#I have more cat pictures I took as a kid to post I just have to find them first #they’re all either on hard drives or in a physical photo album I’m looking for #this is just the only one I have saved now

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tkaulitzlvr · 5 months

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hii I absolutely adore ur writing and I was wondering if maybe you could write something where like tom attempts to do no nut November but fails and it ends with smut??? Thank youuu💗

CAN’T RESIST - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: wierdly, tom is determined to get through the entire month of november with zero sex, having failed within the first few days for the past five years you have been together. you have other ideas, focused on getting him to crack, becoming desperate yourself.

content: smut

a/n: omg i loveeee this idea thanku sm for the request!! the way u sent this at like the start of november and i’m only just posting it i’m so sorry - i’ve had like the first paragraph written for a couple weeks😭also tom would def fail nnn on november 1st at 00:01am he is not lasting a second…

“oh my god.” tom pants, pulling out of me and climbing off of my limp frame, rolling to lay beside me, his chest heaving up and down as beads of sweat line the soft skin. “don’t know how i’m gonna last a whole month without this schatz.”

his confession doesn’t come as a surprise, in fact it is the exact opposite. tom is the horniest person i have ever met, and usually, he can’t go a day without sex - whether it be something rushed and desperate in public, or a long night of raw passion between the sheets, he can’t live without sex, which is why i am so surprised that he is attempting to go through with this whole ‘no nut november’ bullshit. he won’t last a second, and deep down i think he knows that too. though after the hours that he has spent inside of me, deciding to use the entirety of today - october 31st, the day before he had to give up his uncontrollable desires - fucking me just about anywhere he could, stating that it will ‘make up for the lost time’ and ‘make it a little easier for him’, i don’t see how he could even have the energy to do anything remotely sexual for the next month, his body spent and exhausted as it collapses beside me.

“i can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” a small giggle leaves my lips amidst the shaky breaths, hands pulling the sheets upward and over my naked body before snuggling into his frame, wrapping my arm loosely across his chest. “you know that you won’t even last a day, right?”

“this means no sex for you too you know.” his eyebrow raises, eyes tiredly meeting mine with a hint of mischief, thinking that he has caught me out, though he doesn’t realise that i can handle my needs in other ways, it is him that is totally restricted.

“i don’t need your help to cum baby. cute of you to assume i do.” i smirk, kissing his cheek lazily before rolling out of bed, grabbing my panties from the soft carpet, sensing his eyes burning into me from behind. i pay no attention, flashing him a teasing smile as a reminder that i have won, slowly walking into the bathroom to freshen up, his own steps soon following.

“the fuck do you mean you don’t need my help? i can still help you cum, i just can’t fuck you, which don’t get me wrong is the worst part, but nothing says that i can’t touch you. you know i’ll go insane if i can’t even do that.” he already sounds frustrated, a small smile tugging along my lips at the realisation that he really won’t last two seconds, his desperation embarrassingly clear despite the challenge not even starting yet.

“we’ll see. you just focus on getting yourself through this dumb challenge of yours baby.” i chuckle, that same knowing grin on my face once i palm him through his boxers, his mouth falling open at the sensation. though it doesn’t last long, my hand pulling away firmly to adjust the straps of my bra as i put it back on, leaving tom shocked as i walk away, the realisation that i don’t intend to make this easy for him soon becoming real.

and i stick to my plans - set on making this the most painful month of his life, certain that he will never consider doing this challenge again.

if only he knew what he was getting himself into.

“baby?” my voice sounds throughout the quiet house, loud enough for tom to pick up on it from downstairs. i smile to myself, turning to the mirror and adjusting the strap of the bra that i had bought earlier on, whilst tom had been at practice. the black lace - a colour which tom had never been able to control himself when ever i wore it - tightly cupped my breasts, pushing them upward and highlighting my cleavage in the most tempting way possible. small silver jewels line the lace of my thongs, matching perfectly with my upper half, leaving little to the imagination - though far too much that tom wouldn’t be able to touch, a task which would seem impossible the second he laid his eyes on mine.

“yeah?”

“can you come here for a second?” my question is nothing short of innocent, calm with a slight hint of mischief, though it is clearly not enough for him to pick up on as he shouts a quick ‘sure’, the rhythmic sound of his feet trudging up the stairs signalling that he is close, and clearly not expecting anything like this. but it has been two days- fourty eight hours of no sex, no touching, not even an implicit complaint of needing anything sexual from tom. he has been strangely okay with not fucking me, a task which any other time, would be next to impossible. and i feel it - i feel the difference in his actions. he is restricted, almost holding back just in case his impulses get the better of him. but right now, his mind has no choice, my own doing the thinking for him as he is walking blindly into my carefully calculated trap.

“is everything okay-” his calm question is soon cut off by the short curses that spill from his lips when his eyes make contact with my body, not bothering to hide the way they rake down my figure, drinking in the prominent cleavage, moving downward to my curves, finally landing on the slightly transparent panties.

“jesus christ schatz you’re gonna fucking kill me.” he mutters, walking toward me and attacking his hands to my waist, the pads of his fingers tracing the bare skin of my stomach, one slipping teasingly into my panties. his lips are inches away from my own, about to lean in and seal them in a heated kiss, though i pull away, leaving him dumbfounded.

“you like?” i ask innocently, doing a quick twirl as his eyes quickly glue to my ass, soon looking upward once i face him once again. he is in some sort of trance, mouth hanging open slightly, eyes dark and lustful, though the most noticeable difference is the tent that has formed through his sweatpants, a tinge of satisfaction in my veins at the realisation that my plan has worked. despite this, i keep the naive act up, acting as if i do not notice his change in demeanour. “i bought it from victoria’s secret today. it was on sale, and this was the last one in my size. what do you think?”

“you know what i think.” he states frustratedly, his hands doing the talking as they trail down to my ass, giving the bare flesh a rough squeeze, his lips ghosting over my own. “you’re so sexy schatz, so beautiful.”

his lips attach to my own, an indisputable hunger evident as he kisses me, his free hand latching onto the loose curls that fall to my upper waist, running through them harshly. he groans lowly into my mouth, pressing his hips against my own, silently drawing my attention to the hardness between his thighs.

“look what you’re doing to me baby.” he breathes out, seeming a little angry that i have managed to get to him so easily. though he doesn’t kiss me again, instead he holds back, pressing his forehead against mine whilst his hands continue to rest on my lower back, bringing our bodies closer together. “fuck you’re making this so hard…you know that?”

“you gonna give up already?” my voice is seductive, a torturous mix of sympathetic and lustful, lips moving to rest just below his ear, kissing the skin as his eyes flutter shut, a loud sigh leaving his parted mouth, the grip on my waist simultaneously becoming tighter when my kisses speed up. “if you want me…i’m right here.”

“jesus fucking christ.” he trails off, his eyes now squeezing shut as my lips work against his neck, his mind visibly contemplating on whether he should give in. i am right in front of him, my body a blank canvas, willing to give myself up, to allow myself to be used as he pleases, in exchange for the pathetic remainder of his pride - the two days that he has gone without me going down the drain if he decides to act on the desire that is so clearly eating him up.

his visible indecisiveness isn’t enough for me. i need him to give up, to no longer care about holding back anymore, my hand moving underneath his sweatpants as i run my fingers along his length through his boxers, a loud groan leaving his lips in response. he doesn’t object, instead he seems to lean into my touch, confirmation of his defeat on the tip of his tongue, just about to be uttered, my eyes wide open as i wait for him to finally say it.

a loud buzzing sound resonating from his pocket soon takes his attention, totally destroying the moment as i remove my hand from his pants, his eyes shooting open as he takes his phone, the source of the noise, eyes slightly widening once he sees the who is calling, their name lighting up the screen. bill.

“i have to take this baby. you look beautiful by the way, and, nice try.” he says, shooting me a wink and placing a quick kiss on my lips before adjusting himself, clearing his throat and disappearing out of the room. pretty fucking convenient.

i groan in frustration, collapsing backward onto the bed, completely infuriated at the fact that he was so close to letting go, knowing that right now he could be inside of me if it weren’t for that phone call - quickly realising that this is going to be much harder than i had thought.

my eyes make direct contact with the fresh towel folded neatly on the bathroom counter, scrambling quickly to hide it in the cupboard below as i step out of the shower, hands twisting the tap as the fast flow of water soon stops. i smile to myself when i hear the faint sound of a guitar from our bedroom, signalling that tom is in there, this key to my plan. nine days - nine whole days and he hadn’t cracked, not even close to wanting to fuck, the quick make out sessions and ability to still touch me as he pleases seeming to be sufficient. and whilst his mouth and fingers feel good, i need more, desperate to feel him inside of me, willing to go to any lengths to make him crack.

my fingers rake hurriedly through my freshly washed hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat neater, whilst my body remains completely naked, dripping with water. i take one final look at myself through the fogged up mirror, certain that my plan will work this time, figuring that if it doesn’t, then literally nothing else will.

i open the door that leads directly into our bedroom, acting totally nonchalant and squeezing any last droplets of water from my hair. i walk over to the closet, pretending to scan the shelves for towels, knowing that there aren’t any in here, my entire body on display for him. the gentle strumming of the guitar soon comes to a stop, signalling that i have gotten tom’s attention almost immediately, as i had expected.

“baby have you seen the towels? i can’t find any fresh ones anywhere.” i sigh obliviously, eyes finally landing on his own, only his are fixed on my figure, clearly not paying attention to a word that i am saying. his lips are parted, eyes shifting downward as they slowly take in each inch of skin, nothing at all left to his imagination which, despite his silence, clearly offers him no thoughts deemed holy.

“hm?” he mutters, moving his guitar from where it had been resting in his lap and setting it beside him on the bed. he gets up quickly, walking toward me, the awestruck expression plastered on his face now replaced with one unable to be mistaken for anything else besides pure lust. and when his hands find my waist, running up and down it softly, tongue dipping in and out of his mouth to play with the piercing there whilst his lips are curved into a smirk, i know that i have him right where i want him.

“i said do you know where the towels are. i can’t find any and i need to get dry.” his eyes look everywhere but my face, the only thing i get in response being a subtle nod. instead, his hands move upward, cupping my breasts, whilst his head finally tilts, eyes tearing away from where his hands now roam, lips nearing closer and closer, until they roughly collide with my own.

and i waste no time kissing back, silently thanking his almost non-existent willpower, channelling my pent up sexual frustration into the kiss as my lips mould with his, sighing loudly when his teeth sink into the plush of my bottom lip. he presses himself against me, the tent in his jeans more obvious than ever, one that he won’t be able to ignore as easily as he had done last time - one that i know he has to fix, meaning that this time, he won’t leave me totally desperate. his tongue slips into my mouth when i moan slightly, the kiss more messier than before, totally unrecognisable to the soft ones we had shared up until this moment, because this time, they show that he wants this just as badly as i do.

“jump.” he mutters almost inaudibly against my lips, soon reconnecting them once he breathes in shakily, his hands grabbing the flesh under my thighs once i hoist myself upward, wrapping them around his waist. he guides us toward the bed, using the steady hold he has on my hips to grind me against his, the sensation making it harder for him to kiss back, soon reminding me that this is the first sexual contact he has had in over a week. my back collides harshly with the soft sheets as he climbs above me, reconnecting our lips and slowly spreading my legs apart. he hurriedly scrambles to take his shirt off, throwing the material carelessly across the room, revealing his bare torso.

my hands run down the skin, trailing the muscle of his abs, watching how his eyes fall shut as i move lower and lower, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans. his eyes open when i hesitate, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he quickly places his hand on top of mine, now guiding my movements as he forces my fingers to slip below the denim, moving below the cotton of his boxers.

“what about your challenge?” i ask, just before my fingers make contact with his dick, eyes widening when he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at my question.

“fuck the challenge.” he mumbles, forcing my hand to wrap around his dick, his head falling backward the second that the pads of my fingers trace his length, soon running up and down at a slow pace.

“oh jesus christ.” he whispers, eyes half-lidded as he fights to keep them open, desperate to watch my movements, no matter how lethargic they are. because though i have gotten what i wanted, managing to divert his attention from the ridiculous challenge onto me, i want him to be in control, opposed to me doing all the work. and somehow, he seems to read my mind, removing my hand from underneath his pants despite the unmistakable satisfaction etched upon his face. his movements are fast as he removes his jeans, boxers soon following in a messy heap of clothing on the floor.

being naked already works in my favour, allowing tom to line his tip at my entrance, hand pumping his dick lazily a few times before slowly sliding in. as he does so, the tip slips in and out of my folds ever so slightly as i whine in frustration, the stimulation not enough as it reminds me of everything that i have within arms reach, tom holding back only agitating me even more. he picks up on my impatience, my anger buying him time to savour this moment, to tease me just a little more, having me under his mercy just as i had him last time i had gotten close to making him surrender. and i am not willing to have him ripped away again, to be taunted beyond belief, instead willing to beg for him.

“stop playing around and just fuck me.” i sigh through pathetic moans, hands reaching to his neck, pulling it downward so our foreheads our inches apart. and surprisingly, he puts me out of my misery, slowly sliding into me in one smooth snap of his hips. my mouth falls open, a high-pitched moan leaving it when he bottoms out, his tip brushing against my g-spot perfectly, hands raking down his back.

and though my nails dig into the skin with enough force to draw blood, he uses the pain to build up the speed of his thrusts, teeth gritting together as he winces lowly, somewhat used to the feeling, knowing that his pace warranted the strength of my fingers dragging down his back. despite the stinging pain, he maintains a soft smirk, knowing that the soft red marks are nothing more than evidence of the pleasure that only he can provide me with. desperate to feel him just a little closer, my legs hook around his waist, drawing him even deeper inside me, so deep that i swear i can feel him in my stomach.

“you knew what you were doing.” he breathes out between soft groans, so quiet they are almost inaudible. “knew that i’d give in, didn’t you?”

whilst he can speak somewhat coherently, i had lost that ability the second his dick had entered me, any sound that i make an embarrassing mix of moans and whines - nowhere near a properly understandable sentence. though tom wants more, using one hand to grab hold of my cheeks firmly, though not enough to hurt me, forcing my eyes to make contact with his own, prompting me to answer his question.

“mhm…” i manage to mumble, eyes rolling to the back of my head when his tip repeatedly hits the soft spot inside of me, soft curses now pouring from tom’s lips as i clench around him, knowing the reaction that such movements usually encourage out of him, recognising that this time is no different.

“fuck- it’s worth it though schatz. you feel so good, taking me so well.” his words of encouragement are all i need to attach my lips to his neck, placing messy, open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin, noticing the way his lips part, quiet and almost restricted moans escaping them. it isn’t enough for me, feeling somewhat frustrated that he holds back, wanting nothing more for him to cry out in pleasure as i already am, craving for him to mirror my own ecstasy.

“i wanna hear you…” i whine quietly, clenching around him as he curses once again before mumbling a low ‘okay baby’, his lips falling open as rough moans now sound from the back of his throat, getting louder when he drills into me at a certain angle, far deeper than he has ever been before.

and when that familiar knot begins to build within my stomach, i don’t need to ask tom if he is close to, his dick beginning to twitch faintly inside of me. his teeth sink into his bottom lip, thrusts becoming slow and deep, no longer rough and fast as they had been moments ago. now i can really feel him, every inch of his dick slowly pushing inside of me, stopping for a second when he bottoms out, soft grunts leaving his lips as quiet moans escape my own, feeling him closer than i ever had before.

“gonna cum baby. do it with me, yeah?” he whispers, head dipping downward to place messy kisses across my face, starting at my forehead, trailing downward to my nose and cheeks, before ending at my lips, capturing them in yet another rough kiss, nothing like the slow and deep movements of his hips as he continues to push in and out of me.

when his lips falter, no longer able to kiss me with such force as they had when they had initiated it, i know that he can’t hold on anymore, his head tilting backward as a loud moan escapes his mouth, followed with hot spurts of cum that coat my walls, his hips rocking back and forth tiredly as he releases. the pressure of his own climax soon triggers my own, his name spilling from my lips over and over again, high off the feeling of his dick as it continues to thrust into me, fucking his seed deeper, riding both our highs.

his hold on my waist becomes softer, slight red marks in place of his fingers, our breathing loud and heavy as it envelops the room, thick with the smell of sex. he pulls out of me, sighing loudly as a mix of our juices seeps out, his hands lazily grabbing some tissue to wipe it away.

tiredly, he moves upward, his body collapsing on top of me, lips pecking my own a few times. my own arms wrap around his back, fingers tracing the skin softly in an attempt to ease the stinging pain my nails had left whilst his own hands run along my trembling frame, lips pressing sweet kisses into my hair.

“you okay?” his voice is hoarse as he speaks, attempting to appear as unbothered as possible, though i can tell he is totally worn out. i manage a quick ‘mhm’, lips turning to kiss just above his shoulder, noticing him smile weakly against me.

“are you upset about the challenge?” i ask tiredly, eyes on the verge of closing, ears barely picking up the soft chuckle that leaves his lips, his fingers squeezing the flesh of my hips as he kisses me softly, shaking his head.

“fuck the challenge.” he stretches out, bringing my body closer to his. “sex is just too good, plus it’s hard when my girlfriend walks around naked in front of me, what kind of guy ignores that shit? i don’t care if someone paid me, i’d never pass up on a chance like that. especially when you look this good.”

“you’re so romantic.” i scoff sarcastically, shaking my head at his impulsiveness, feeling him smile against me, his head lifting up to look into my eyes.

“what, i’m not allowed to say you’re beautiful?” he smirks, hands trailing my body once again, eyes visibly lighting up with that same look i had seen just minutes ago, knowing exactly what it means. “i mean, i could show you that you’re beautiful instead, if you want me to…”

though the grin on his face says otherwise, i know that he is serious about it, his actions proving so if my instincts weren’t enough. his hands trail upward knowingly, fingers running across my breasts as his lips makes content with them, placing harsh kisses onto the skin, his teeth digging in every few seconds. my head falls backward, back arching to allow him better access, silently accepting his proposal. he stops momentarily, looking into my eyes.

“we’ve got nine days of lost time to make up for schatz. i think now seems like a good time to start, don’t you?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tomkaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz

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sailor-aviator · 16 days

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By Its Cover: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Historical inaccuracies, Regency period, Period related drama, Talks of judgement, Period typical sexism, Talks of marriage, Death of a parent, Talks of making a debut, Reader's feelings are hurt, light angst, some fluff. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

Winter gave way to spring as quickly as one rumor gave way to another. Public opinion changed as quickly as the seasons, as far as you were concerned. Your whole life was spent in the thralls of high society, your entire life scrutinized by the judgmental lords and ladies of the Island before you could even walk or talk.

You had earned your reputation as a rather odd girl fairly young not quite seven years. Where the other girls were interested in dolls and hair ribbons, you found yourself enraptured by the world around you. On more than one occasion, you received a tongue lashing from your nanny as you tracked mud through the house after one of your many excursions into the garden, your mother heaving a tired sigh as you argued the merits of fresh air and stimulating your endless supply of curiosity.

“My darling,” she’d say pointedly, giving you one of her signature looks that reeked of motherly disapproval and exasperation, “while I find the fresh air and time in the garden as stimulating as the next person, it is unbecoming of a lady, dearest.”

You had recounted the tale to your father later that evening, the older man sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the top of the wooden surface as he thumbed through a page of one of his many novels.

“I just don’t understand, Papa,” you muttered, your hair hanging from where you sat upside down on the chaise. “Why can Will go about doing as he pleases while I am to be tied down by all of these ridiculous rules?”

Your father had merely chuckled, marking his page before setting his book down to look at you.

“My darling Bug,” he smiled, taking his feet down and opening his arms wide to you. “Come here.”

You obeyed, righting yourself on the couch before standing to walk over to him. Bug had been bestowed upon you as your moniker well before you could remember. Your father had said that you earned the nickname once you were old enough to crawl all over the place, getting into things that you most decidedly shouldn’t. Your siblings had said it was because you were a pest.

Your father grasped your upper arms gently, the smile on his face as affectionate as always.

“William doesn’t get to do as he pleases,” he explained, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you pouted at him. “He will one day be lord earl of this estate, and as such he will take on many duties that will prevent him from doing a great deal of things. Indeed, he will take on many things that will see him as constrained as you.”

“I don’t believe you,” you grumbled, scowling up at him. Your father tilted his head back with a booming laugh, patting your head before placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Nevermind all of that now, my little Lady Bug,” he hummed. “I’ve found a new story for you, would you like to read it?”

Your father was a fixture in your life, encouraging your love of learning perhaps more than he should have given the expectations set forth by society for you. Your mother saw no problem with your need for intellectual pursuits, but often grew exasperated at your clear lack of regard for decorum and stereotypical ladylike hobbies. Your elder sisters were the pinnacle of what proper ladies should look like in society, and you often found yourself being compared to them, much to your chagrin.

North Island, or the Island for short, was the nickname given to the group of nobles and upperclass that made up the elite, wealthy families that dictated the standards of polite society - the society you had the misfortune of being born into along with your elder siblings.

Your brother, William, was the pride of your family. He was a handsome, strong man that commanded the room with his very presence. He was jovial, charismatic, and intelligent by all accounts, and very popular amongst the other ladies of the Island.

Lydia was the second eldest after William, and was the the spitting image of your mother, with beautiful features that left all the men on the Island giving her longing looks. It was the Earl Reuben Fitch that won her hand in the end only seven seasons ago, and now they visited once in a while with their three children in tow.

Theodosia, or Theo for short, was the second eldest daughter, having entered into society only one year after Lydia, she was the prize to be won with her charming and elegant demeanor. Not quite as beautiful as Lydia, she made up for it with her wit, having won the affection of a viscount that same year.

Georgiana, or Georgie as your family was prone to call her, was only a year older than you and had made her debut the year prior. She had not settled for any of the men of the Island the year prior, setting her sights high and determining that the best had yet to come.

You rounded out the lot as the youngest, the strange, little sister that no one knew what to do with more often than not. The ladies of the Island often remarked that your head was too full of ideals, unsuitable for a lady of your noble family, and they lamented how your mother and father must have grown lax in their child rearing when it came to you. Or perhaps you were a hopeless cause. The reason varied day to day it seemed.

You were quite content with how your life was playing out. You had your books, the garden, and your dearest friend, Natasha Trace. Natasha, or Nat, was about a year older than yourself, having made her debut the same year as Georgiana.

“I’ll be happy once you make your debut,” she had said to you one night. “I won’t feel so alone at all the balls then.”

You had frowned at her words, the very thought of entering society growing less and less appealing by the day.

“Why must I debut?” You had asked your mother not too long after. “I’m the fourth daughter of an earl. Surely it is not that important that I marry.”

“Dearest,” your mother had sighed, setting her needlework down to look at you, “marriage is not all work. As the fourth daughter, you have more freedom to marry whom you would like. Your father would have wanted you to marry.”

“Father would have wanted me to do what made me happy,” you had muttered, turning to leave the room before she could respond.

Your father had passed years prior when you were only eight, and his memory still haunted the halls of the manner. William had taken up his title as earl, seeing to the estate with the help of your mother until he was capable of doing things on his own. Ten years your senior, he had done his best to fill in the holes your father’s absence had left behind, though he still needed reminding that he was, in fact, not your father.

“You’ll be making your debut this year,” he reminded you, scribbling away in the family ledger, casting you a spare glance as you scowled down at him.

“Please don’t make that face,” he sighed, setting his quill down to give you his undivided attention. “And please don’t make this more difficult than need be. Every young lady makes her debut at some point or another.”

“Why must I debut?” You frowned, your lips quickly forming into a smirk as a thought struck you. “Can I not live out my days on my own with you to support me?”

“You may not,” Williams replied flatly. “Bug, I know it can be nerve wrecking-”

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you interjected.

“But, it’s a part of growing up. You’ll find a husband who will make you reasonably happy and live out your days with him,” he finished. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you clasped your hands together.

“William,” you began, “who would want me? The whole Island has deemed me strange, the black sheep of our family. You would really put me through this embarrassment for the sake of tradition?”

“I think you’ll find yourself surprised at who may want you,” William countered. “Many men on the Island are in need of a wife, and some may be willing to settle for someone of your nature given the right circumstances.”

A beat passed between you two, your heart stalling in your chest at his words.

“Settle?” You laughed quietly, but there was no humor to be found in your tone. “I am something to be settled for then?”

You hated how small you sounded in that moment. Of course, you didn’t care for what others thought of you. No, you were above all of that. Still, the thought that your brother saw you as some secondhand prize, something no one would seek out, hurt, and you willed the stinging tears behind your eyes to go away as you schooled your features.

William cursed under his breath, moving to stand, his face apologetic as he rounded the desk.

“Bug, that’s not what I meant-”

“No,” you snapped, sniffly slightly as you fought to compose yourself. “You’ve said quite enough already, brother. You’ve made perfectly clear where I stand as it is.”

He moved to say something, but you waved him off, already turning to leave the study.

“You’re busy,” you said flatly, “I’ll leave you to your business.”

William called out your name, but you ignored him, walking briskly down the hall and to the solace of your family’s library.

If you were something to be settled for, then you would at least make the most of what little freedom you had left.

A/N: Ahhhh!! The long awaited, much requested Regency!AU is finally here! Here's our first taste of Bug and Jake, so what do we think? As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please go follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#by its cover #bic #regency!au #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman top gun

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bejeweledblondie · 7 months

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Captain John Price Headcannons

A/N: these are as realistic as I can make ‘em about to be, all of the headcannons I have are inspired by my personal experiences living on a military base & the experiences I’ve had with foreign military (even the Brits, playing cards against humanity with them was interesting)

Captain John Price x F! Reader

• You & Price met through Laswell, you were her intern turned assistant you had gone to college for international relations

• Your intelligence sparked his interest, Laswell had to do a whole presentation on their Task Force should interact with the women in some of the countries they completed missions in

• He was fully attentive & took notes the entire time

• When Price had asked you to dinner it took you by surprise initially, you were oblivious to his small gestures

• He’d bring you coffee, always visit you at least once a day, & would offer to carry your bag into the office

• He took you to a nice little Italian restaurant

• He opened the car door, made you walk on the inside of the street, pulled you chair out etc.

• His parents & grandparents raised him to be a proper gentleman

• He ordered the nicest wine for the both of you

• Afterwards, you guys walked around & just chatted, the conversation flowed beautifully

• When he drove you home he walked you to your door & you kissed him goodnight, once you closed the door he had a shit eating grin

• That following Monday a giant bouquet of roses sitting on your desk with a sweet note from him

• He’s so sweet on you, a true gentleman

•He found out how much you loved dogs & gifted you a golden retriever puppy

• You cried when he gifted the puppy to you

• After a year & a half of being together he proposed to you

• He used the Diamond from his grandmothers ring as your center stone, & he spent months with a jeweler custom making

• Laswell knew the entire time while he was planning the proposal & the ring

• Your wedding was a winter one the week after Christmas so everyone was able to take leave

• Soap, Simon, & other men he had served with were all part of the Saber exit you had at the end of your ceremony

• Soap was the one who cheekily tapped your behind with his saber to “properly” welcome you into the military

• “Mrs. Captain Jonathan Price, welcome to His Majesty’s Army”

• You guys opted for a nice cottage near post because on post housing absolutely sucks

• Shortly after you two had moved in, you had found out you were pregnant

• It terrified you initially & you came up with a creative way to tell John

• You picked up some Army themed baby onesies at the on post NAAFI (the British equivalent of the U.S. Militaries Post Exchange)

• You told him once he got home he had a gift waiting for him & he initially looked confused at the baby onesies, then it clicked

• The both of you decided to hold off on telling everyone until you were far enough long & starting to show

• You both decided to wait to find out the gender

• He treats you like a China doll while you’re pregnant (along with everyone else)

• You’d wake up to him talking to your stomach, he’d tell your baby all about his day

• In office surprise baby shower happened & everyone went ham with the gift buying

• An emergency hostage rescue operation came across Laswell’s desk the week you were due

• You sobbed into him when he told you, he absolutely hated seeing you this sad

• Like clockwork the night he was already mid-mission, once he got back Laswell informed him you were in full blown labor

• John was crushed, one of the nurses held your phone up so he could at least watch his baby being born on screen

• He broke down once he heard the cries of their infant coming into world

• It was a boy, you decided to name him John as well both after his father & grandfather

• He met you in the hospital 12 hours later still in his gear

• As soon as he possibly could this man brought y’all’s son to work

• Laswell was all over him, constantly wanting to hold him

• You do own Tactical Baby Gear with “Price” plastered all over it

• I don’t think you’d return to work after having your first kid tbh… it would’ve been too stressful with Price’s job

• You two definitely have more children, two boys & one girl

• Price 100% coaches your sons soccer (or if you’re not American; football) team

• Your little girl has him wrapped around her finger (along with her “uncles)

• He would sport a tiara & boa for her tea parties (any “uncle” that came over would too)

• He brought his daughter & her little friends to the Eras Tour (he had a blast btw)

• I think your two sons would join the army to follow in their father’s footsteps

• He was so proud when they graduated from Basic Training

• Price on the battlefield is a hardened man but as soon as he walked into your home his hard exterior dropped & he’d go full on domestic he truly loves you & the life you two had built

✨NSFW✨

• Price was the one who had been your first, due to the fact you focused more on school & your studies you hadn’t been with anyone else

• He wears that like a badge of honor, knowing he was the first & only one to show you how you should be treated in bed

• somewhat discreet office sex

• you’d like out a whimper or a moan & he’d whisper “mmmm you gotta be quiet sweetheart, you don’t want anyone to walk in hmmm”

• you have sucked him off while he’d been on calls in his own office

• he smokes cigars while you ride him in your backyard’s hot tub

• you’re a moaning mess on his cock & he’s just taking in the view of you bouncing up & down on him

• he’s 100% an ass man

• has a HUGE corruption kink, & loves being called “daddy” or “captain”

• he has a collection of nude Polaroids of you hidden in his bucket hat, Soap accidentally found one that had fallen out & Price immediately ripped it from his hands

• He definitely bought you sex toys before he leaves for deployment

• you two go at it like rabbits when he comes home (makes sense how y’all have three kids)

• you gave him a blow job after he was honored at a military ball in the bathroom, as a thank you for his service 😏

• People assume you two are vanilla & bland in the bedroom as oatmeal but boy looks can be deceiving

513 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 3 months

Text

When Three Became Two 🪽| Platonic!Weasley Twins Imagine

Set during the Battle of Hogwarts

Harry Potter masterlist

Characters & Pairings: George & Fred Weasley x Sister!Weasley Triplet (platonic), the Golden Trio x weasley!sister (platonic)

Content Warnings: Character Death, sadness, angst, mentions of blood and major injury, profanity | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7k

Premise: The dynamic redheaded duo Fred & George were never particularly close with their older triplet sister Y/N, especially after she was sorted into Slytherin during their first year at Hogwarts. It is not till the Battle of Hogwarts do the twins realize just how important family is, but by then it was too late to make amends.

(Y/E/C)- Your eye color

Note: I’m going to put red hair because you know Weasley but if you want to envision your own hair color that is totally fine too. Also, just so y'all know....I started this piece back in 2018 and recently picked it back up. So....the last 400 words are pretty much the most recent material I added + i did A LOT of editing. So I apologize if the beginning is trash because like I said, 6k of the nearly 7k words are from 6 years ago. I've been hyperfixating on the Weasley twins again which is why I was like 'maybe I should finish that imagine I started...'

Italics are flashbacks

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Y/n Weasley felt the sweat and blood drip off her forehead as she ran through the halls of the school she had spent several years in which became a second home to her. She was out of breath, dodging and reflecting spells that were casted her way from the surrounding death eaters. Screams and shouts echoed from every corner, flashes of red and green light nearly blinding her (Y/E/C) eyes while her flaming red hair swished when she ran. Her breath was wavering, she could see several of her fellow Order members dueling around her. Passing the Great Hall, her pace nearly faltering when her eyes locked on the doors, the memory of walking through the first time when she was just a nervous little eleven year old began to play in the redheads mind….

Y/n sighed, stepping off the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Her twin brothers had already raced to the boats leaving the smaller, although older, of the three behind. Picking up her robes that were slightly dragging due to her small stature, Y/n followed her fellow classmates to the boating docks, casting a smile to Hagrid as she walked past him, who in return smiled back. She found a boat that already had two other first years seated, and quickly took the spot adjacent to a girl about her age.

“Hi,” the girl smiled to the redhead, “I’m Angelina Johnson. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n Weasley, it’s nice to meet you,” the two shook hands with smiles.

“What house are you hoping to be in?”

“Honestly,” Y/n sighed, “I’m not sure. My whole family has been in Gryffindor, including my two older brothers who are currently here. It would be nice to be sorted there so I have my family, but I’ve always felt different.”

“Are those other two ginger boys your brothers?” Angelina pointed to the boat where Fred and George were laughing loudly while talking with a dark-skinned boy. Y/n nodded after looking where Angelina was pointing, turning back with a grim expression.

“Yeah, that’s Fred and George. We’re triplets, I’m the oldest of the bunch yet I never seem to be included in anything.”

“Aw, that’s not right,” Angelina said with a frown. The two continued to talk the entire boat ride to the castle, learning about their backgrounds and finding out they had several similar interests. One could tell that the two instantly connected and were on the road to becoming best friends. The two girls got off the boat once it got to the docks, Y/n helping Angelina when she nearly tripped as she got out, to which the young girl was grateful for.

“Oh my gosh thank you!” Angelina exclaimed, “That would have been so embarrassing.” Y/n laughed slightly, fixing the girl’s robes.

“No problem, I wouldn't want you tripping on the first night and being made fun of before classes even started.” The two girls followed everyone to the entrance of the castle, beaming in awe of everything they passed. Climbing the steps that lead to the great hall seemed like forever, but soon they were faced with an older woman who wore a pointed hat on top of her head and green robes.

“Good evening,” she greeted, “I am Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, the doors behind me will open and you will enter the Great Hall where you will then be sorted into one of the four houses named after the four founding members of Hogwarts; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin--.” She continued to explain the four houses to the children before the doors opened. When they did, Professor McGonagall escorted the group into the Great Hall. Many looked at the ceiling, gasping at the candles floating in midair. Some caught the eyes of soon to be fellow classmates, the students sending smiles to the young ones.

The group halted in front of the steps leading to the podium. The members of the head table gazed down on the children, Headmaster Dumbledore giving them a warm smile to welcome them making many feel more at ease. Professor McGonagall stood beside a stool, on top of it was a brown pointed hat.

“When I call your name,” she said, capturing everyone's attention, “You will step up, take a seat on the stool and I will place the sorting hat on your head where you will be sorted into your houses.” Y/n felt her hands become clammy, nerves racking through here with each name being called getting closer to hers. When Angelina was called and sorted into Gryffindor, Y/n clapped for her with a smile, happy for her new friend. She immediately hoped she would also be sorted into the house to be with not only her older brothers, but also with Angelina.

“Weasley, Fred.” The ginger boy raced up the stairs, careful not to trip over his robes and took a seat on the stool with a grin. The hat was placed onto his head and it took only moments before the hat exclaimed, “GRYFFINDOR!!” Cheers erupted from the lion house, the older Weasley boys, Charlie and Percy, clapping loudly for their brother and greeting him with open arms when he ran to the table. George was called next, the boy also running to the stool and the Gryffindor house applauded with joy once more hearing the sorting hat call out the name again. Fred and George embraced in a big hug, happy they were going to be in the same house and sat next to each other beside their brothers.

The room went quiet and Professor McGonagall read out the name many had already guessed was next, “Weasley, Y/n.” The small eleven-year-old let out a shaky breath, ascending the steps before taking a seat on the stool. She flinched when the hat was placed on her head and heard a gasp emitted from it.

“Ahh another Weasley,” the hat began, “only you are much different than your many siblings huh? Loyal to your family, a trait you value, but Hufflepuff is not for you. There is no doubt you are brave like a Gryffindor, there will be a time your bravery will be put to the test, but there is a strong ambition that lies within you. You are a very determined young one, and will do anything to accomplish your goals.” Y/N felt her heart begin to beat faster as the hat continued talking, “So, there is only one house in which you will find what you are looking for and that is SLYTHERIN!!”

That day, while no one wanted to admit it, changed everything. The twins hardly ever talked to Y/N, even less than what they already had. Many of the Slytherins ignored her, not enjoying the fact that a member of the blood-traitor family was sorted into the notorious pure-blood house. Even though Y/N was of pure blood, it did not matter to them, she was still relatively shunned from her housemates. Professor Snape was displeased at first until she proved she had a talent for potion making, becoming more advanced than any student he had ever taught. It was then he treated the Weasley girl with some actual respect and even allowed her to practice in the classroom whenever she pleased as long as she promised to never let her brothers get their hands on any of the ingredients he stored in the room.

Charlie, Angelina, and Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff seemed to be the only people besides her parents and professors that looked beyond the fact she was in Slytherin. Others included her older brother Bill, her younger sister Ginny and eventually Hermione Granger. The bushy haired Gryffindor met the older Weasley in her first year at Hogwarts. After being told of the talented potion maker from Ron, Hermione sought to meet her. Y/N was shocked when the girl first introduced herself, but it was the start of a treasured friendship Y/N held dear to her.

“Hi!” a cheerful voice sounded, causing Y/N to look up from her textbook. Her eyes met the warm brown ones of a petite girl bushy haired girl sporting a Gryffindor tie and robes. The Slytherin girl gazed at her confused, looking around the library in case she was addressing someone else other than her. By the warm smile the first-year gave her, Y/N realized she was in fact talking to her.

“Uh hi?” she said with a questionable tone, brows furrowed. The girl stuck her hand out which made Y/N slightly flinch by how fast the movement was.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she introduced. Y/N hesitantly extended her own hand, clasping it with the girl's small one and shook it lightly.

“Y/N Weasley.”

“I know,” Hermione smiled, “Ron told me about you. Well he did not tell me much except your name and that you were in Slytherin. He also mentioned you were really good with potions and Snape likes you.” Y/N could not help but slightly chuckle at the last sentence.

“I wouldn’t say Snape ‘likes’ me, but he certainly tolerates me more than my siblings. You’ve probably already seen that the twins are pranksters, they tend to cause him immense distress.” This made Hermione laugh and Y/N felt her lips curl up. She then noticed the girl holding several textbooks, one of which was a first-year potions book, “Is there anything I can help you with Hermione?”

“I just wanted to get to know you,” the girl said warmly, which made Y/N slightly shocked. “Ron and the twins did not speak much about you and when they did they made it seem like you were horrible just because you were sorted into Slytherin. I know that a house does not define who a person really is, so I wanted to talk to you myself and it appears you are not a mean or evil person that your house makes people think you are.” Y/N could not believe what she was hearing and she could not detect any hint of a lie in the girl's words.

“Wow,” She breathed, “Sorry, I’m just a little taken back. It’s been a while since I’ve really heard anyone say that. Only my older siblings, minus Percy, my parents, my sister, and a few people who I happen to be friends with think the same way you do. Ron and the twins just really ignore me.”

“But aren’t you and the twins actually triplets?” The question caused Y/N to frown and look down at her book.

“Yeah,” she muttered softly, “We are. Many people forget that we are because we never act like it, but it’s okay, I’m used to the two leaving me out. It happened before we were sorted into our houses so it does not bother me much anymore. I’ve learned to live with it.” Hermione frowned at that, feeling sad for the older Weasley.

“That’s not right. You guys are siblings, family. They should not treat you like that.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. One day they will realize how they act wrong, until then I can only be patient.” Hermione nodded though she still possessed a frown and Y/N pushed away the many books laid on the table, gesturing for the girl to take a seat. “Here, sit down. You said you want to get to know me, so let's just talk while we do our homework and you can see how I really am compared to what Ron tells you. I’ll even help you with potions if you need.” Hermione beamed, placing her books on the table and sitting down across from the redhead. The two talked for hours until it was time for curfew, getting to know one another and Y/N offering help when Hermione had a question on a certain subject and Y/N felt it was the start of a blossoming friendship.

The years continued, and Y/N only had few friends, hardly ever seeing her siblings due to them all being sorted into Gryffindor leaving her alone. Her friendship with Hermione grew and she even looked at the girl as a sister, the Gryffindor looking at her the same way. Y/N and Angelina remained close even after being sorted in different houses. Despite having few friends, she could not wait to graduate and finally go off on her own, already planning to continue her work in potions and become a potioneer after spending countless summers devoted to perfecting different elixirs. Several events happened during her time at Hogwarts, including her sister Ginny unlocking the Chamber of Secrets and the tragedy of the TriWizard Tournament.

When the Order of the Phoenix was back in business to stop Voldemort following the death of her dear friend Cedric, Y/n immediately joined despite objections from her parents. The death of her friend caused immense grief. She became depressed in the following months, hardly sleeping due to nightmares of his corpse and she rarely ate, resulting in her facial features becoming more hollow. It was not until she joined the Order that she was back to her normal self and that was because of her determination to bring justice to Cedric’s death. The Order faced great loss. The deaths of Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody and with her brother George losing his ear proved how real the war was and the fight to make the world a safer place.

Now it was the second of May, and the fight of everyone’s life was in place. Death Eaters swarmed every inch of Hogwarts, attacking students whether they were armed or not. Y/N ran down the corridors, deflecting spells and sending jinxes back and forth. Her adrenaline was soaring, not knowing where exactly she was headed, but the only thing she knew was to survive and protect the students around her. Y/n never thought she would ever cast the killing curse in her life, but when a second-year Hufflepuff was about to be killed, the spell left her mouth before she could stop herself. The Death Eater fell back unmoving, Y/n took the hand of the small boy she saved and hurried him to the nearest dormitory or classroom.

“Here, go!” she ushered him into the room, “Stay here and do not leave! Hide somewhere and be alert, you understand?” The boy nodded furishouly, his small body shaking and clutching his wand tightly in his hand. The redhead raced out of the room, closing the door shut before darting down the hallway. A flash of familiar hair caught her eye and her feet carried her to the source. “Ginny!” She shouted upon seeing her sister. The younger Weasley halted her movement at the sound, turning around only to collide in the older one’s embrace. “Oh my God,” Y/n breathed, “Are you okay? Why are you out here? I thought you were to stay in the Room of Requirement until this was over?”

“Harry needed me to leave,” she told her sister, the two moving to a corner where they were slightly hidden from the battle, “He needed to search the room for a possible horcrux. Once he went in, I left and came here. I couldn’t just let my friends and family fight with the chances of them getting killed and just sit and wait!” Y/n sighed, bringing a hand to wipe the sweat on her face which resulted in more dirt being rubbed.

“While I don’t like you being involved, I understand where you’re coming from.” She pauses to rub her nose bridge, placing her hands on Ginny’s shoulders to look at her sternly, “Mum and dad might kill me for letting you fight, but there’s really no time to negotiate and stop you. At least find Neville or someone who can stay close to you and keep you covered, okay?” Ginny nodded, embracing her sister once more in a tight hug.

“Stay safe, sis.”

“I will,” Y/n told her, “You stay safe too, I’ll see you soon.” The two pulled away and Y/n bolted away down the hall while Ginny rushed to Tonks after seeing her battle a Death Eater and rushing to her aid. Y/n turned the corner, something in her stomach dropping and her intuition telling her something bad was about to happen. She heard the sound of a duel taking place and followed it. Familiar voices echoed in her ears and her pace picked up. The redhead rounded the corridor, jets of light flashing in her eyes and she spotted Fred and Percy battling Death Eaters while Harry, Ron, and Hermione helped while dodging incoming jinxes.

“Hello, Minister!” Percy bellowed, sending a jinx at the man, “Did I mention I’m resigning?”

“You’re joking, Perce!” Fred shouted and looked at his brother. Y/n watched the two and in the corner of eyes she could see a Death Eater with their wand raised. Her brothers could not see the man, and she noticed he was pointing at the wall directly behind them. Before she could think, Y/n sprinted as fast as her feet carried her, eyes widening when the flash of light emitted from the want of the assailant. At that moment, nothing mattered other than making sure her brothers were safe. All the years of being ignored and looked down upon by them due to being sorted in Slytherin seemed to vanish, and Y/n felt water line her eyes as she got closer.

“You actually are joking, Perce… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were--.”

“Fred! Percy!” Her scream ignited and the two snapped their heads toward her just in time for the redhead to push them both out of the way at the exact moment the air exploded around them. The two brothers along with the Golden Trio were flown back from the impact, all landing onto the stone ground with a groan. Pain erupted to several areas of their bodies which would surely bruise. Dust covered them, their vision blurred from how much was in the air.

Fred pulled his body up, groaning from the pain in his side and coughing from how much dust filled his throat. He scanned the area and saw how the wall he was in front of was blasted apart with stone and wood now covering every inch of the ground with a large pile in the middle. It took two seconds for the ginger to realize what had happened, the last thing he saw was his sister running at him before he was flown back. He immediately got up and rushed to the pile of debris, staggering over the stones while shouting his sister's name.

“Y/n!!” He screamed, moving at a fast pace. “Y/n, can you hear me!” The boy began throwing the many pieces of stone and wood away from the pile, searching for any sign of movement and listening for sound. Percy and the trio joined in, the group shouting Y/n name and digging through the debris. “C’mon Y/n I need you to tell me where you are!” Fred grew more and more worried, feeling his heart sink by the second. It was not until he heard a pained groan and rushed to the source. He spotted a hand peeking through the rubble and Fred shouted for the others saying he found her. They all rushed to him, removing the stone covering Y/n's body, allowing Fred to pull her out of the wreckage when they were able to get her upper half revealed. She let out a scream, pain erupting all through her and Fred tried his best to get her out as gently as he could.

“I got you, sis.” He said with a shaky voice, “I got you.” With one quick but harsh tug, Y/n was removed from the rubble and was laid onto the floor. Everyone surrounded her, becoming frozen by how much blood covered her body. Cuts and gashes painted her skin, her clothing ripped and chunks of stone were embedded into the many wounds. Her breath wavered, gasping for air and they all felt their heart race at the sight. Hermione, with shaky hands, pressed a palm on to a deep cut in Y/n’s neck. The Weasley girl hissed, blood filling her mouth and dripping down her lips.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Hermoine’s voice cracked, trying not to look at the many wounds which the girl could tell will be fatal if not treated immediately. Ron could see a large gash right above his sister’s temple and gently laid his hand on top of it, while biting his lip to stop a sob from escaping. He knew it was bad, and his sister was dying in front of him. They needed a healer, but the Great Hall was several corridors away and Ron feared she would not make it in time. Percy began calling for help, applying pressure onto her stomach which had been cut open when a large piece of wood had impaled her. Harry stayed on his feet with his wand ready for any threats while also keeping his eye on Y/n, his heart dropping at the sight of her battered body.

“I can’t--,” Y/n gasped with a tired breath as Fred held her hand, “I can’t feel my legs.” She could hear them gasp, Fred’s hand becoming tense in her hold.

“We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey!” Fred shouted and went to pick her up, the others keeping their hands on her wounds to hold the bleeding but when they tried Y/n erupted in wails from the pain filling her by the slightest movement. It was like a volcano, fire filling her blood. The thick liquid poured out of her wounds, her skin becoming pale. Hermione’s hands were painted red, as were Ron and Percy’s. The sound of her screams were so loud it echoed through the nearby hallway and caused tears to stream down Hermione’s face.

“Stop!” she shouted, “Fred stop! It’s too late, she won’t make it!”

“You don’t know that!” He yelled back trying to get his sister into his arms, his clothes now coated in red. Y/n began to shake from the pain, becoming numb by the intensity and Fred started to panic.

“Fred, she’s losing too much blood,” Hermione cried, “She’ll bleed out before we can even get her to the Great Hall.”

“Are you serious, Hermione?!” Fred shouted in disbelief over the chaos around them, “Do you even hear yourself?! She’s your friend and you’re gonna let her die!? ”

“Fred stop,” Y/n's hoarse voice whispered. The ginger boy looked down at his sister, her upper body being held up in his arms while the others continued to put pressure on her wounds but blood continued to seep through their fingers.

“What--?”

“She’s r-right,” Y/n interrupted, “I-I won’t make it. The pain is too much--I-I can’t move and I'm losing too much blood.” She was shaking, fighting against what was pulling her to the other side to have a few precious moments with her family. “You need to get out of here, go find mum and dad.” Fred could not believe what he was hearing, neither Ron nor Percy. All three boys felt their eyes water and Fred tightened his hold on her. Percy grabbed her other hand, and Ron kept his on her head, covering her wound while tears flooded his face.

“Y/n,” Fred stuttered her name, “We can get you to a healer. Madam Pomfrey will help and she will heal you, you’ll be fine.” The words were more to convince himself. He watched as her lips curled up, tired and broken eyes looking into his.

“Fred,” she sighed, “You and I both know that I am not going to make it.” A sob escaped his throat.

“No! You’re not dying! You’re going to be okay!” He cried, dropping his head so his cheek rested on her hair. “You’re going to get out of here. You’re going to go home and learn how to walk again and become a potioneer like you’ve always dreamed of. You’ll get married and have kids…” He trailed off when sobs overtook him and he began to cry into her hair. Fred never believed he would ever have to watch his sister die in his arms. He had never felt more pain in his life than in that moment watching her gasp for air as her life started to fade away. What made it even more painful was knowing she saved him in the process, “I was supposed to die, not you! Not you!”

Fred started to think back to all the times he and George would ignore Y/n, never including her in pranks or just ordinary things. The moment she was sorted into Slytherin they acted like they were not even related at times and Fred felt more tears fall knowing he could never make up for it. He won’t ever get the chance to show her how sorry he was.

“Y/N go get your brothers and tell them supper is ready.”

“Yes mum.” Y/N raced up the many flights of stairs in the burrow in search of her twin brothers. When she got to the room, she knocked gently and waited for a reply but did not hear one so she pushed it open to see the two boys sitting on the ground in between their beds with several items in front of them.

“Hey, hey!” Fred shouted in surprise and George started to gather their many inventions away from her sight. “You can’t just come in here without saying anything!” Y/N frowned at him.

“I knocked,” she told him, “neither of you responded.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “Still does not mean you can just walk in our room unannounced. We are doing something very exclusive and can’t risk you snitching it to mum or dad or your pal Snape.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed at her brother.

“Snape is not my ‘pal.’ He just stands me more than you lot because you are always causing him trouble.” George mumbled something under his breath, but the girl could not hear it. “And besides, I haven’t told anyone about your previous antics so why would I do so now?”

“Oh please,” Fred said in an annoyed tone, “we know you told Filch that we were the ones who put fireworks in his office second-year.” Y/N’s jaw dropped at the accusation, her cheeks becoming inflamed as anger rose.

“I did no such thing!” she shouted, “whoever told you that was a lie! I never ratted you out to Filch and why would he believe me? He thinks I’m just as bad as you two because I’m a Weasley.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand how you are one?”

“Excuse me?” she said appalled, “What in the bloody hell do you mean by that?” The twins just looked at her with blank expressions while she felt her eyes begin to water.

“Well first,” Fred started, “the most obvious is that you are the only one of us who got sorted into Slytherin. A house you know is full of pure-blooded pricks and bullies who hate everyone but themselves. You don’t like quidditch like the rest of us and prefer to be by yourself working on potions. Snape likes you, but hates the rest of us and you just have always been the outkast in the family. Who knows, you may even become a Death Eater like the rest of your housemates. Maybe you already are one and just haven’t said anything, wouldn’t be surprised you never tell anyone in this house what you are up to.” Y/n stayed silent when Fred finished, she felt a small tear fall down her cheek but neither of her brothers looked like they were unapologetic. She bit her lip giving a small nod and wiped away the drop.

“Mum wants you to know that supper is ready.” Turning on her heel, Y/n paced out of the room with the door slamming shut behind her. She shoved past Percy who simply glared at her for her attitude and bumping into him, obviously not knowing what the twins had said to her to cause such emotion. The redhead burst into her room, collapsing onto her bed and pushing her face into her pillow as cries erupted from her, being muffled by the pillow. She felt her heart break, her brother's words replaying in her head causing torment like a radio playing a horrible song over and over again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he wept into her hair, “I’m sorry I treated you so badly. For everything. Ignoring you, pranking you in ways that had humiliated you and made you cry. Accusing you of snitching on us when you never did.” He held her close to his body, breaking inside each time she made a sound of agony. “I’m sorry for what I said to you during fourth year. I’m such a horrible brother,” he sobbed, “Please sis, don’t go. Don’t leave us.”

“It’s okay, Fred,” she hushed him, stroking his arm with the hand Percy wasn’t holding. The two other Weasley boys were sobbing next to her. They two often treated her unfairly and were now going to live in tremendous guilt and despair, begging God to not take her. “It’s okay,” she said again, this time quieter.

“Y-Y/N,” Percy stuttered, but she simply hushed him.

Her voice grew weaker, and the group knew it was only moments before she would be gone forever. “It’s gonna be okay. I love--,” it was getting harder to speak, but she was fighting. “I love you all.”

“We love you too. We always will,” Ron said and Hermione started to cry harder, leaning onto Ron for support. Harry no longer looked around for Death Eaters, his own face drenched in tears at the sight in front of him. He felt anguish in him, seeing another friend die at the hands of those who wanted him dead.

“You think I’ll see Cedric up there?” She questioned, eyelids falling shut and the image of her best friend filled her mind. Happy at the thought of possibly seeing him again. Fred let out a small cry before she felt him nod.

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, “He’ll be waiting for you. You’ll be together again just like before.”

“Freddie?”

“Yeah, sis?”

“Take care of George,” she managed to breathe out, “Tell him I love him.”

“I will,” He sniffed, feeling her take one last breath.

“Promise me you will live.” The air left her body one last time, the pain no longer present and Y/n felt at peace, unable to hear Fred’s last words to her.

“I promise. I love you, sis.” But Y/N did not respond, causing him to gently shake her. Her lack of reaction caused Fred to collapse into a heap of cries when her body finally went limp in his arms. “Y-y/n?”

Percy felt her hand become unmoved and he too, cried in heartbreak. Ron held onto Hermione, turning his body away so he did not see his now dead sister in his brother’s arms. His heart was heavy with agony and he could not help console Hermione for he was in the same state. Harry dropped his head, sadness all within him at the loss of someone he looked at as family. He would never forgive himself, and he wished nothing more for Y/n to be brought back.

“Y/n,” Fred tried again, but to no avail. “W-wake up. Please w-wake u-up.”

The Golden Trio had to force themselves to leave, to continue their search before more people died. Harry and Hermoine having to drag poor Ron away from his siblings. None wanted to go, but time was limited and it took all their strength to get up and leave Percy and Fred with Y/n’s body. Promising Ron they’d get her to their family once it was safe to do so.

The two Weasley brothers lost track of time. They stayed put, mourning the loss of their sister until the battle ceased and they were drained of tears. It soon became quiet in the castle, Death Eaters had retreated upon Voldermorts order and bodies laid all through the halls.

“We should take her to the Great Hall,” Percy spoke with a dry voice, hoarse from all the cries. “Take her to mum and dad.” Fred was still, looking in front of him at the dusted hallway full of debris from the explosion that killed his sister. She was still held close in his arms, eyes closed and the blood stopped flowing but coated every inch of her skin along with Fred’s clothes. It took all his might to look down, eyes landing on her face. She looked peaceful, her lips slightly curled as though she had died smiling and that gave Fred some sort of comfort despite her damaged body.

That she left the world at peace.

“You think she’ll watch over us? Even though we treated her like shit?” His voice cracked. The older Weasley gazed down at his little sister, a small yet heartbroken smile on his lips and he cleared his throat. His hand came over her forehead to move some of her red hair, flinching at how cold her skin was.

“Yeah,” he said, “I think she will.” Fred carefully stood, cradleling Y/n in his arms. Percy rose beside him, grabbing their discarded wands and leading them out of the hallway, careful to avoid the debris around them. They reached the Great Hall, hearing the sound of others. Many were painful groans, others were cries of despair. The two emerged in the doorway, paying no mind to those around them and instead continued to walk forward until they saw their parents, Ginny and older brothers Bill and Charlie. Ginny was the first to see them, and rushed to them relieved they were okay and searched for her sister, but when her eyes landed on what was in Fred’s arms she halted. She could see the flaming red hair similar to hers and the blood stained clothing on the unmoving body. Her mouth went agape, hand flying to cover it as her eyes filled with water threatening to escape.

“Please tell me it’s not--.” But Percy simply shook his head, looking at his baby sister with sorrow and Ginny let out a small scream, falling to the ground but was caught by Bill. He stared at the Y/n’s lifeless body, his heart breaking into pieces and he tried desperately to console Ginny, but found it hard to battle his own grief emerging. Molly and Arthur ran upon hearing their daughter’s scream and froze when they saw their son.

“Fred,” Arthur said in a hesitant voice. His son looked at him with tear filled eyes, lips quivering and for Fred, he could feel his body start to shake.

“I-I-I,” he could not find the words, “S-she saved us. She saved us…..” His knees nearly gave out and his brothers Percy and Charlie helped him lower their deceased sister onto the ground. After gently placing the fallen Weasley onto the stone floor, Fred once more collapsed over her body as his grief overpowered him once more. Molly fell back into her husband’s arms, wailing in agony, he too had trouble holding her up as his body racked with sobs. Ginny was still on the floor, being cradled by Bill while Charlie and Percy stood over Fred, rubbing his back with tears of their own falling.

Onlookers watched with solemn expressions. The sight was gut wrenching but unfortunately resembled many throughout the Great Hall as friends mourned friends and teachers draped blankets over their deceased students.

“No! Not my girl!” Molly screamed, “Please not m-my girl.” She fell to her knees, crawling over to the opposite side of her daughter's body and caressed her cold cheek. Blood was all over her precious face, adorned with cuts and gashes, the most horrific on her head and neck. Molly did not even want to look down at Y/n’s body, for she was afraid of what else had happened to cause her daughter such a horrific death. Arthur could see the gaping wound in Y/n’s torso, his stomach lurching at the sight and he had to turn away as he felt nauseous.

George burst through the entrance of the Great Hall. He had separated from his family and Fred at some point during the battle which resulted in his anxiety to soar at not knowing where they were. He heard the wounded were being treated in the Great Hall along with the bodies of those who perished being moved until further notice, so the ginger bolted to the location as fast as he could. His eyes scanned every inch of the large dining hall, and soon he could see a group of people with the same colored hair as him, instantly relieved.

George walked with a rushed pace, slowing with confusion when he heard the wretched cries of his parents and siblings. They were all huddled, blocking his view of the ground. He immediately looked for Fred, becoming relaxed when he saw his brother alive. But George’s stomach dropped at the broken look painted on his twin’s face.

“F-Fred,” he stuttered out as he approached him, “what’s wron----.” Something behind Fred’s shoulder caught his eye, George’s gaze falling to the still figure on the ground. That’s when he realized the fact Fred was kneeling on the ground, hovered over the figure, and his mother was sobbing into their neck.

His twin lifted his head, turning to meet George’s eyes, which revealed the horrific reality waiting for him. There, lying on the stretcher covered in a dark red--almost black--substance and nearly unrecongnizable, was his sister Y/n. Unmoving. Dead.

All the air left George’s body, face consorting to match his family as he took in sight. The clothes she wore were tattered. Dirt and grime painted the visible parts of her skin not coated in her blood. Gashes upon gashes. A nasty intrusion on her temple and torso. George felt the bile form in his throat and before he could stop it the redhead was hunched over, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Arthur instantly went to him, rubbing his back. Once it appeared George had got it all out, Arthur produced a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his son's mouth as he had seemed to freeze.

“Y-Y/n,” he dropped to his knees. Crawling to Fred and their mother. His twin slightly moved aside to give space. George instantly reached for her hand, devastated when the cold touch hit his skin. “No.” Tears dropped from his eyes, George looking to his family for them to say it was all a nightmare. “N-no. No!”

“George,” Molly whispered, reaching over to comfort him.

He shook his head, not wanting to believe the truth. “What happened?!” Fred winced, returning to a heap of sobs.

“She saved us,” Percy whispered, making George look up. “There was an explosion. A-and she pushed us out of the way. A wall came crashing down,” the older Weasley boy flinched, head dropping as he relieved the most horrifying moment of his life. “It crushed her.”

Molly wheeped into her daughter's chest. Picturing the scene. Unable to save her baby girl who she had spent so long wishing for.

For the twins, it was like a piece of them was now missing. Creating a hole deep in their hearts. They all came into the world together. Y/n first, then Fred, lastly George. How were they supposed to go forward without the third piece of their puzzle?

This question only surfaced the ocean-sized guilt swimming in their veins. Like Fred had done in the precious moments he held their dying sister, George was replaying all the times he had tormented Y/n. The constant pranking. Humiliating her in front of her friends and schoolmates. Getting her in trouble with their antics when she took the fall. Accusing her of snitching on them.

George crumbled, clutching onto Y/n’s hand as he lowered his head to her torso. Praying to whoever above to take care of her in the afterlife and begging her spirit to forgive him. Wishing he could turn back time to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted his sister back.

A cold breeze brushed his ear, almost like a whisper. George thought he felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he turned the closest person to him was Percy, and he was at least five steps away.

Whatever it was Fred had felt it two. The redheads glancing to one another, anguish filling their gaze. For they had their suspicions of what--or who--was responsible for the touch.

Turning back to Y/n’s body, Fred and George pictured what life was in store for them without their sister. Reality sunk in. No longer a bright light, but instead dimly lit.

For what was once three became two.

#weasley twins #george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins imagine #fred weasly x reader #george wealsey x reader #weasley!reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fred weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #slytherin!reader #platonic!reader #harry potter angst

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boobo13cambridge · 11 months

Text

A Mother's Remedy | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: none just Papa Kylian fussing over his “perfect hattrick”

Summary: You fall asleep on Kylian after spending the whole day taking care of the triplets who had the flu.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I’ve been trying to get all my previous requests done. I hope you guys like this one, it was way too cute to write. My requests are open again if you guys want to send me more. As always, please leave me feedback and don’t forget to reblog. I would greatly appreciate it. Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

The room was filled with a soft glow, courtesy of the bedside lamp casting its warm light upon the scene. The day's exhaustion had finally caught up to you as you lay nestled in the comfort of Kylian's arms, your head resting against his broad chest. It had been a long and arduous day, one that tested your strength and patience as you cared for your three precious children who were struck down by the flu.

The abrupt shift in weather proved overwhelming for your spirited young boys, whose boundless energy knew no bounds. They loved playing football outside in your backyard, and wouldn't miss a match at the Santiago Bernabeu if they could help it. Watching their father play was their greatest joy, and you couldn't help but fall in love each time seeing your precious four-year-olds donning their father's jersey proudly, their voices joining in unison with the fervent chants reverberating throughout the stadium. Ali, being the eldest among the trio, would often lead his younger brothers, Zain and Ilyas, in a rendition of the French national anthem before playing their ‘friendlies’, as he liked to call them, in the yard. Kylian found it absolutely adorable, officially dubbing them his ‘favourite hat trick’.

Kylian's fingers gently caressed your hair, soothing away the remnants of stress that clung to your tired mind. His touch was a balm to your weary soul, bringing you a sense of peace and tranquillity. The rise and fall of his chest against your cheek served as a rhythmic lullaby, coaxing you slowly to sleep.

As your eyes fluttered closed, the image of your children flashed across your mind. Their little faces flushed with fever, their once lively eyes dimmed by illness. My poor babies, you thought as you snuggled closer to your husband. You had spent the entire day tending to their every need, feeding them medicine, wiping away tears, and comforting them through the long hours of discomfort.

A few hours earlier…

As the sun cast its golden rays across the room, you woke up with a sense of anticipation for the day ahead. Stretching lazily, you slowly tried to get out of your husband’s embrace, the latter’s arms tightening his hold not wanting to let you go.

"Bébé, stay just a few more minutes," he murmured softly, nestling deeper into the curve of your neck. Letting out a quiet giggle, you turned towards him, placing a tender kiss on his nose and gently caressing his cheek.

"Kyky, I have to go wake up the triplets and get them ready for school," you explained, a fond smile gracing your lips.

"Mmmhhh, d'accord. But give me a kiss first," he playfully whined, his lips puckering in an adorable pout. Shaking your head affectionately at his antics, you indulged his request, pressing a chaste kiss on his waiting lips, before deftly extricating yourself from his embrace and making your way towards the room where your precious cubs slept.

The triplets' room was conveniently situated just across the hall from your own, one of the many reasons you both decided on this house after Kylian signed with Real Madrid. As you opened the door to the bedroom and stepped in, the sound of faint whimpering halted your movements.

Alarm surged through your veins as you rushed towards the beds, the scene that greeted you shattered your heart into a million pieces. Lying in their beds, your little ones were flushed and perspiring, their small bodies consumed by fever. The sight of their usually bright and energetic faces now pale and tormented sent a wave of panic coursing through your veins.

Laying your hand on their sweaty foreheads, you felt how warm they were.

“Maman…” whimpered Ilyas the youngest of trio, slowly opening his eyes, “Je me sens pas bien.”

“Oh, mon pauvre petit chou. Maman’s here now,” you said, gently caressing his face.

As you continued to caress Ilyas's flushed face, offering him reassurance and comfort, the other two boys, Zain and Ali, began to stir from their sleep. Their delicate brows furrowed in response to the discomfort that plagued them, their faces contorted in the grip of illness. The sight was a poignant reminder of their vulnerability, igniting a fierce determination within you to ease their suffering.

With a heavy sigh, you braced yourself for the demanding day that lay ahead. Gathering your strength and summoning the resilience that only a mother possesses, you whispered soothing words to Ilyas, gently coaxing him to rest as you hear the distinct sound of Kylian’s footsteps approaching.

"Ils sont où mes petits footballeurs?" your husband boomed, entering the room with a wide smile that quickly faded upon witnessing the state of his babies. His expression transformed into one of deep concern, etching lines of worry across his handsome face. "Mon dieu, what happened?"

"They have a fever, Ky. They're burning up real bad," you replied, your voice laced with concern as you watched Kylian's eyes flicker with worry.

"Papa... Arrête de parler si fort, t’es pas un haut-parleur là," Zain weakly croaked, his voice barely audible, but still managing to convey his cheeky spirit, even in the midst of illness.

Kylian, ever the doting father, couldn't help but chuckle softly at Zain's response. "Roh là là, regarde le tit gamin," he remarked affectionately, a playful glimmer in his eyes. "Even while sick, he'll give his dad cheek, eh?"

Moving softly across the room, Kylian approached Zain's bed, his presence exuding a comforting warmth. His large hand gently rested upon Zain's fevered forehead, the contrast between his cool touch and the heat radiating from the young boy's skin sending a shiver of concern down his father's spine. Soft words of comfort and reassurance spilled from Kylian's lips, offering solace and a father's unwavering love.

After giving Ilyas a soft kiss on his cheek, you stood up, knowing you needed to make some food for your little ones and help them regain their strength. Your heart ached at the sight of Ali, still sleeping restlessly in his bed. You quickly made your way to his side, gently brushing his dark tousled hair away from his forehead, and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Ky, can you stay with them? Get them a wet towel for their foreheads. I'll make them some porridge and give them their medicine," you suggested, softly running your hand through your oldest’s hair.

"Sure, mon amour. You go ahead, I'll take care of them," Kylian reassured you, his voice filled with tenderness. With a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, you left the room, your mind racing with the urgency to prepare a comforting meal for your hungry little ones.

In the kitchen, you swiftly gathered the necessary ingredients, your hands moving with practised efficiency. As the porridge simmered, you took a moment to grab your phone and dial your mother's number.

With years of experience as a mother herself, she was a source of guidance and wisdom in times like these. You explained the situation and sought her advice on caring for your sick cubs, soaking in her comforting words and practical tips.

On the other end of the line, your mother's voice greeted you with warmth and concern. "Hello, my dear. What's going on? You sound worried."

"Hi, Mom," you replied, your voice tinged with a mixture of relief and anxiety. "The triplets are down with a high fever, and I'm not sure what to do. They're feeling really miserable."

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry to hear that," your mother empathized. "First, make sure they stay hydrated. Offer them small sips of water frequently. And if they have any appetite, light, easily digestible foods like porridge would be good."

You nodded, taking mental notes. "Yes, I'm making them porridge now. It's almost ready."

"That's a good choice, my dear. Warm and comforting. It will help soothe their throats too," your mother advised. "And don't forget to give them their medicine. Keep a close eye on their temperature and monitor their symptoms. If things worsen or if you have any concerns, don't hesitate to call their paediatrician."

"I will, Mom. Thank you so much for your guidance," you expressed your gratitude, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over you.

"You're welcome, my love. Remember, you're a wonderful mother, and you'll get through this. Trust your instincts and remember the best remedy is a mother’s love," your mother encouraged.

As you hung up the phone, you turned off the stove and took a moment to collect yourself. The conversation with your mother had given you a boost of confidence, reminding you of the strength and resilience within you.

Carrying the tray of steaming porridge and Tylenol back to the bedroom, you found Kylian gently coaxing Ali to wake up from his restless slumber. Your heart ached as you saw the worry etched on Kylian's face, his focus solely on their oldest, who seemed to be more affected by the fever than the others.

"Ali, mon petit lion," Kylian murmured softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "Wake up, Maman is bringing some food. It will make you feel better, je te promets, mon coeur,"

Placing the tray on the table near Ali’s bed, you placed a hand on Ali's forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. His eyelashes fluttered, and his drowsy eyes slowly opened, revealing a mixture of confusion and discomfort. His weak voice quivered as he tried to speak.

"Mama... Papa," Ali croaked, his voice barely audible.

"We're here, mon amour," you reassured him, your voice gentle and soothing. "You're going to be okay. Just take your time and try to eat a little. It will help you get better."

With Kylian's support, you lifted Ali into a sitting position, propping pillows behind him to provide comfort. The fragrant aroma of the porridge filled the room, its warmth wrapping around Ali like a healing embrace. Kylian scooped a spoonful and blew on it gently to cool it down before offering it to Ali.

"Open wide, Ali," Kylian encouraged, his voice laced with both concern and determination. "Just a little bite. It will give you strength."

Ali hesitated for a moment, his tired eyes meeting yours and Kylian's. The love and support shining in your gazes seemed to embolden him. With a deep breath, he parted his lips, allowing Kylian to feed him a small spoonful of porridge. The taste brought a flicker of renewed energy to his weary body, and he managed a faint smile.

"Good job, Ali," you praised him, your voice gentle. "You're doing great."

As Kylian took care of your eldest, you attended to your other two brave little boys, who patiently waited as you served them each a bowl of warm food. Zain and Ilyas were capable of eating on their own, but as the ever-doting mother, you couldn't help but worry, despite their constant reassurances that they could manage. You moved back and forth between your sons, gently wiping the sweat off their foreheads and assisting them in drinking water. Once all three boys finished their meal, you and Kylian administered fever medicine and gently coaxed them back to sleep, hoping they would recover soon.

Seeing them in such a state made you feel helpless. Usually lively boys, they now lay there, struggling with high fevers. Observing your worry, Kylian tenderly wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and planting a kiss on your hair.

"Don't worry, my love. They'll be fine," he whispered softly as you sought solace by burying your head in his chest. "I can't help but worry, Ky. Especially Ali, I've never seen him like this before."

"Shh, he'll be alright," he soothed. "If you stress too much, you'll make yourself sick, and that's the last thing you want, right? The boys will be back to normal soon, my heart, okay?"

You nodded, releasing a faint sigh, as Kylian slowly closed the boys' room and led you to your shared bedroom. He was right; there was nothing more you could do but allow the fever to run its course and nurse your children back to health in the meantime. You felt grateful to have your caring husband by your side, knowing that despite being in the middle of a busy season, he always prioritized his family.

As you gently lay down, resting your head on Kylian's chest, you prayed for your family's well-being, filled with immense gratitude for your own mother, who had spent countless nights fussing over you to ensure your well-being. Your mother's words echoed in your mind, reminding you that a mother's love is the best remedy. With that thought, you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, serenaded by the soothing rhythm of your lover's heartbeat.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe smut #kylian imagines #kylian mbappé #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfiction #mother #motherhood #father #parent #mom #kylian mbappe x you #kylian smut #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian fluff

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lesbianlores · 6 months

Text

Recovering undercover overlover

𖨆♡𖨆

Contains: fluff, sub!Shuri to dom!Shuri to sub again, penetration(both receiving), tribbing, strap riding, sixty-nine, spitting, squirting, SEVERAL rounds.

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: Gurl just hold onto your wigs cause this is gonna be a long nasty ride. (also I’m sorry if ts lowkey bland, I’ve been rushing through this the whole weekend)

Summary: It’s been a month since Shuri left for a mission while you were in America spending time with family. The two of you haven’t been contacting each other often, you understand she’s busy on her mission but Shuri on the other hand has been anxious out of her mind. She has the bad habit of leeching onto you and following you around like a lost puppy, but her not having the opportunity to do that because of the distance had her going crazy.

Translations: (Mholo: good afternoon) (nkosazana: princess)

(Andikwazi, andisakwazi ukuyibamba!: I can’t, I can’t hold it anymore!)

(nceda y/n, kubuhlungu!: please y/n, it hurts!)

(Oh thixo wam: oh my god)

(Yithathe: take it)

(Undithatha kakuhle, Ndizakwenza uthwale intsana zam. Yinto oyifunayo leyo?: You take me so well, i’ll have you carry my babies. Is that what you want?)

⋆.ೃ࿔* You and your family were wearing matching pajamas as you effortlessly whopped their ass in Mario Kart. Every year your family has a gathering with fun activities like face painting and baking or cooking competitions. In the middle of the race, your little cousin comes charging toward you with your phone.

“Y/n, Shuri’s calling you! Tell her I said hi!”

You give your controller to your cousin and answer, “Babyy hi, I miss you!”

“Hello sthandwa, I’m sorry I haven’t been calling you lately. I’ve been extremely busy and I understand if you’re mad at me-“

Shuri starts rambling, her voice shaking in a state of panic. The anxiety in her tone tells you she’s been anxious like this for a while.

“My love relax it’s alright I know your mission has you busy, it’s not your fault.”

You walked out to the porch from the loud sounds of your competitive family and sat on the hammock that hung from the pillars, “Just hang in there, we’ll see each other soon okay?” You hear her sigh through the phone.

“You’re right, I’m sending an airship to take you home tomorrow evening, my mission is over. Get yourself ready.” Her worried tone barely changed.

“That’s amazing I can’t wait to see you! I should start packing now, love you bye!”

“I love you too, goodbye princess.”

You screamed in excitement and zoomed back into the house, you were happy to finally see your wife but you knew you had a lot of reassuring to do.

You had spent the entire night packing and choosing an outfit to wear so you wouldn’t have to later. After having brunch with your family you changed out of your sleepwear and into the dress you had planned last night. You said your goodbyes while walking outside with bags and a plate full of your family's desserts for Shuri, “Bye we’ll miss you!!” said your mom leaning on the front door.

You waved back then you turned to see a fancy car, the second you entered you got a text from Shuri.

*We will meet each other at the palace, I can't wait to see that pretty face ❤️* You smiled at the text, your legs practically kicking back and forth.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

A few hours later and you’ve finally made it to the palace, Okoye greeted you at the entrance. “Miss y/n, Shuri is in her lab.” She bowed.

“Thank you Okoye, and stop calling me miss, just y/n.” You smiled, she returned the gesture, took your things, and escorted you to Shuri. “Take my belongings to our home.” You ordered, entering the lab you see Shuri working *of course she’s working right after a mission* you thought.

“Panther, y/n has entered the lab.” Griot announced, but you were already right behind her before she turned to see you. She immediately discarded what she was occupied with and tugged you into a warm hug, her hands resting right above your ass. “**Mholo my pretty girl, how did the visit go?” She says lowering herself to kiss your forehead.

“Why are you still working, have you gotten any sleep?” You completely ignore her question, “I did sleep a little, I was just touching up some stuff.” You saw right through that lie.

“I missed you, do you wanna go somewhere? Are you hungry? I can cook, or buy you something to eat, or maybe we can go out-“ She had a slight look in her eyes like she felt that you were going to punish her if she didn’t make you happy. Being in a relationship with Shuri for years, you start noticing this about her.

“babe- my love, what’s going on? Are you okay, talk to me.” You bring your hands on either side of her neck, rubbing below her ears with your thumbs.

“I’m just- I just can't shake the thought of losing you and feeling like I didn’t love you enough, I’ve lost too many people I loved without saying goodbye. I can’t go minutes not being in your presence without the thought of you leaving me lingering in my head, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

She whimpered into a cry, you pull her in by the neck. Her head resting on your shoulder, “Listen Shuri, I carry you with me, your heart, your brilliant soul and mind I carry everywhere I go. Your existence is just enough love for me, even after death we can’t be separated because my heart and soul you carry too.”

Leaning back you bring your hands to the sides of her face, looking her right in the eyes. “Do you understand?” She nodded softly as you wiped her tears, “C'mon, let’s go home.”

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The two of you arrived at your shared house located not too far from the palace, you told Shuri to settle on the bed until you were finished preparing a bath to relax her.

You sprinkled all kinds of herbs and flowers like rose, thyme, especially lavender. You took all your jewelry off before calling Shuri into the bathroom, she walked in with only a robe on. “This is beautiful, I’m so grateful nkosazana. I love you.” She stepped closer, the both of you holding each other’s waists.

“I love you more.” You said untying her robe and letting it drop to the floor. You analyze her body before kissing right above her collarbones, she releases a shuddering sigh. She softly but swiftly bunches your dress up to your waist so it’s easier to pull off. Her slim but long hands unfastening the clips at the back of your bra, you pull her in closer so that your breasts are pressing against her.

She smells so good, ever since you complimented her body oil she never stopped wearing it. Shuri has valued you and your opinions soul heartedly, since the day you two met. She would even ask for your opinions on her work in the lab, you find it funny considering she’s the genius and you know nothing about science but you try to give her a little something nonetheless.

The hug lasted seconds but felt like minutes, hugging her softens your soul. She takes a deep breath, “You have no clue what you do to me y/n, you hold so much power over me. I’ll do anything for you.” Her voice was shaking but this time not in a state of panic, but in a state of love and lust. You tug her into a kiss, standing on your tippy toes. Your tongues dancing in each other's mouths, you knew not to fight for dominance because Shuri always wins.

“Let’s not get too distracted, the water may get cold.” You said breaking the kiss, letting her go to lead her towards the tub. As she got in first you took that time to discard your panties. She offered her hand out to help you get into the deep tub, making the water splash a bit.

The warmth of the water sunk into your skin and calmed your nerves, Shuri made her way to you, giving you a peck on your forehead. She straddled you and relaxed her head on your shoulder as you began whispering praises in her ear. You comfortingly rub her lower back while your right hand rests on her neck massaging gently with your thumb. You love taking care of Shuri, even though she feels that it's only her that should be giving in the relationship. She always put others before herself and you made it your duty to be that person for her because almost nobody else is.

Minutes of comfortable silence go by and Shuri lifts her head, her eyelids low. She licked her lips shifting closer to yours until they finally met. Her hands lowered to your hips, groping them just enough for it to hurt a little. She maneuvered her head to the side of your neck to suck and peck your sweet spot, your lashes flutter close as you moaned her name. Your mouth hanging open, making audible moans and your hands tighten on her back, nearly scratching her.

“I need more.” She mumbled in your neck. She got out of the tub before she lifted you out. As soon as your feet touched the floor she groped your ass and kissed you with greed. “Shuri- we have to dry first.” you said in between kisses, she grabbed your hand and hurried out of the bathroom to get the towel that laid at the front of the bed.

She wrapped herself in a towel and began rubbing the water off you with another, gently but firmly groping your body “You’re not slick, I know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” She said innocently with a little smirk at the corner of her lips. You hummed leaning into her for a kiss. She dropped the towel immediately to wrap her arms around your lower back, occasionally squeezing the plush of your ass.

Growing impatient, you turned the two of you around and then walked forward to the bed until she fell onto it, you straddled her lap and ripped the towel off her before pushing her by the shoulders to lay down. Shuri used her arms to pull herself further up the bed, you crawled to follow her. “Let me take care of you this time baby.”

She did nothing but whimper, she unconsciously bucked her hips up to you trying to ease that need between her legs. Nothing turns you on more than seeing Shuri vulnerable, the way she gets so lost and drunk in her arousal for you, she’s so eager for your touch that she’ll do or say anything. You teased her by kissing from her neck to her breast agonizingly slow and left one peck on her right nipple.

“Please”

Hearing her plead with such desire had you high, her jaw nearly quivered as if she were cold. Her hands had a death grip on the cozy covers under her, she looked up at you like you were a goddess. Her eyes entreating for your mercy. “Okay my love, I’ve got you.” You said lovingly, continuing your trail of kisses down her body you finally arrived to where she needed you most. You tease her one last time as you pecked and then sucked her clit, releasing it with a pop.

“ugh-” she moaned before her hands shot to the sides of your head, her back arching high. You waste no more time and wrapped your plump lips around her puffy clit, the hum you let out at her taste sending waves of vibrations through her.

She rolled her hips practically fucking your face. You love how submissive and soft her moans were, It was like calm music to your ears, like the harmonies smooth silk or honey would make if it could sing. Shuri’s expression was a sight for sore eyes, her eyebrows frowned, eyes nearly closed but she forced her eyes open to keep the glimpse of you buried in her pussy in sight, her mouth slightly open almost panting like a dog before she released a shattered moan and threw her head back.

You were eating her out so good she couldn’t even mutter a word to warn you she was cumming, but it didn’t matter because you know her. You know how shaken and loud her moans get before her climax, how she goes to grip the bottom of the wooden headboard she had to replace millions of times because of her strength. How she can’t even moan anymore as she goes silent

while her fluids are leaking into your mouth, you drinking it in like you’ve been dehydrated for years.

You give her clit one more kitten lick before removing your mouth. “Good girl” You praised, while crawling for her lips into a tired kiss. “You did a good job, but I’m not done with you.”

You crawl to the edge of the bed to grab the bag of toys y’all keep in the drawer very close to where you lay for scenarios like this. Crawling back, you see Shuri who sat up in excitement once she saw what you were getting out of the bag.

It was one of her favorites, a lengthy and thick dildo she mostly uses when she misses you and you’re not around. “have you used this lately?” You already knew the answer considering Shuri is overly hypersexual when it comes to you, but you wanted to hear her say it.

She nodded shyly while impatiently eying at it in your hand, “Words.” She lifted her gaze to your demanding eyes and spoke “Yes, I’ve used it thinking about you, about how much I missed those lips that drive me insane. Those curves and stretch marks I could admire all day, I missed you so much.” She shuddered, getting closer to your lips while licking her own.

“Good.” You whispered, lips ghosting each other as you teased your lips over hers while pulling your head back, making Shuri chase you. That didn’t last long, her patience snapping as she used her hand to keep you in place, finally closing that space and crashing her lips on yours.

Taking her state of submissiveness to your advantage you overpower the kiss and lean forward until she’s lying on her back again. You angle your body to the side with her left leg over your shoulder so that your mouth has easier access to her clit while you tease her hole with the toy. You can feel her bud pulsate in your mouth from the sensitivity of her previous orgasm, you look up to see Shuri already gaping at you, the way she can’t keep you out of her eye view makes you smile a little.

After kitty licking her clit for a while you push the silicone deep inside without a warning. Shuri shot up, her elbows holding her up so that she could have a better view as you pumped in and out while swirling your tongue on her pussy simultaneously.

Shuri had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her hips in sync with the thrusts you fucked her with. “Y/n, y/n i’m cumming, please tell me I can cum please!” Her accent grew thicker than usual, you denied her request shaking your head, and sucked harder. Tears built at the edge of her eyes, her elbows doing her no more justice as her upper body plopped back into the silk of the bed. “**Andikwazi, andisakwazi ukuyibamba!” She came, this time her liquids squirted and splattered everywhere, but you didn’t stop.

“nceda y/n, kubuhlungu!!” She screamed in agony. You couldn’t get enough, swaying your head from side to side over her clit for one last taste then pulling it out and removing your mouth immediately, licking her essence from your lips. You sat and cherished this view of Shuri, still catching your breath you pressed your body against hers. “I love you.” You whispered on her lips before kissing them for the hundredth time, “I love you more, but we aren’t done.” She said before flipping the both of you over, making her the one on top now.

“It’s my turn.”

It surprises you how she could be obedient and needy at one time then dominate and possessive at another, effortlessly putting you in your submissive state. She had a soft grip on your thick hips, kissing and sucking on your neck. “Keep it wet for me, I’ll be back.” Was all she said before she crawled off the bed and went into y’all’s shared closet.

She quickly came back out with a strap wrapped around her waist, but it was ordinary, it was glowing. “Why is it glowing? Is that vibranium? How’d you do that?” You questioned while scooting to the end of the bed.

“Yes, I made it a while ago, I was going to save it for a special occasion but this can’t wait any longer.” You squinted to get a better look at it as she walks closer to you, you worry that it’ll feel odd or even hurt considering vibranium is literally one of the strongest elements of metal on earth.

She noticed the look of concern on your face, “It won’t hurt at all my love.” She said as if she could read your mind. Shuri then grabbed the sides of your head and bent down to give you a loving kiss, it started simple then gradually went into a nasty make-out session.

Your craving and desperation leading to aggression, you pull her by the sides of her abdomen encouraging her to grab your hips and lean you back swiftly, your ass nearly hanging off the end of the bed. You wrap your plump legs around her waist, “I need you, please.” You begged, trying to grind yourself on her. Your pleading went to no avail, the determination in your eyes made her smirk.

“Will you be good for me and let me get her ready, hm?” You nodded.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Her fingers rammed into your slick walls rapidly, she supported her balance with a hand around your neck. Your eyes met the back of your head, mouth hanging open in pleasure, you were close.

Shuri took note, loosening the pressure she had on your neck so she could lean down to your lips for another kiss. You pull her in and claw at her back as you cum, letting go of the kiss to moan.

“Ndixelele into oyifunayo sthandwa, ndikuphe.” Her lips grazed over your ear, your heart was still beating just as fast as a bunny, but she wasted no time.

“I need you in me, I want you to own all of me. Show the world who I belong to.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what you want baby?”

“uh huh” you moaned. She glides her dick up and down your folds, occasionally stopping to rub your clit in small circles with it, holding her bottom lip between her teeth, smirking.

The lids of your eyes became bricks, you took a deep breath trying to release some of your tension. Shuri drove your senses wild with her entrancing chuckle, the familiar sent and taste of her still lingering on your lips, her breath-taking melanated skin that covers the abdominal muscles you love to glide your hands up and down on, and finally that eye-rolling feel of her sliding herself inside between your glistening folds.

She groaned throwing her head and eyes back narrowly, your mouth gaped at the stretch. The vibraniam glowed dimly, signaling that she feels it.

“Mmh look at how well it slides in, so wet.” She says, whispering to herself as if you’re not there. She brought her hands to the back of your knees and lifted your legs to rest on her shoulders. Shuri started slow but hard, sliding out all the length but just the tip before she thrust it back in. With every stroke, a moan escaped your lips and your body jerked every time her hips met your thighs.

She leaned down, getting a hold on your shoulders to deepen how much of her is in you. Shuri intensified the speed of her thrusts, you held onto her wrists moaning for her.

“You know how to fuck so good!” You cry, she growled in response just as she moved to lift you by the hips to pound herself into you harder. You vent out a throat-wrenching scream, it hurts so good. Your back arched flawlessly, your tits brutally bouncing wild from the force of her hips. You couldn’t hold onto anything but the sheets, virtually ripping the fabric due to the violent grip you have.

The tip of her dick touched your soul, sweat coursing through her abs. Continuous grunts of ‘Oh thixo wam’ and ‘Yithathe’ poured out of her foul mouth.

“Undithatha kakuhle, Ndizakwenza uthwale intsana zam. Yinto oyifunayo leyo?” She smiled at the idea, gazing down at you for an answer.

“Yes panther! I’ll be the mother to your children! it’s what I want, breed me!”She groans speeding her thrusts to an inhumane pace “Kiss me!” You yelped, begging longingly while opening your arms out to her for a hug. Shuri doesn’t think twice about freeing your hips from the air and embracing her arms under your shoulders. Her tongue dives inside, the vibrations from your moans bouncing off the walls of your mouths. She pulled back sucking your tongue between her lips before letting go with a string of saliva following, then spitting it back in your mouth.

“Oh my fucking God you’re filthy.” You laughed.

“You want more, hm? Open your mouth.” She ordered, and you obeyed. Sticking your tongue out to catch the strand of spit she gave, she dropped down to swirl her tongue in your mouth then spit it all back in again. “Swallow it.” She said slowing her strokes to focus on how you closed your eyes in pleasure as you gulped the mixture of her spit with yours. “Mmhm” Shuri moaned in approval. She then pulled herself up, bent your legs to your heart, and piped hard as she was previously.

You threw your head back in bliss, bawling at the pain and pleasure. You’ve lasted as long as you could, that heavy pressure forming at the pit of your stomach.

“Shuri-“

“Cum” She interrupted, and you didn’t think twice. Clawing at her wrists as your cum sprayed on her. Your legs shook aggressively, toes curling and all. She pumped her hips a few more times before coming to a complete stop.

“Bast.” Shuri gasped, collapsing on top of you.

“Tired already panther?”

(Ya’ll I got to split this into two parts cause I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer, I didn’t have time to proof read neither but hey.)

#shuri black panther #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri smut #shuri imagine #shuri fic #shuri x y/n #shuri fluff

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collecting-stories · 8 months

Text

When Emma Falls In Love - Remus Lupin

A/N: I totally didn’t intend to make this as long as it is (6k+), it sort of got away from me while I was writing. Despite the title and the lyric, the reader is gender neutral.

Summary: Remus and the reader take a trip to Hogsmeade after Christmas break. Marauder’s era cause I'm a sucker for that whole time period.

TS Anthology Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

…turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand…

“What’s this?” Remus asked, long fingers smoothing over the newspaper that concealed the object you’d handed him. The funnies, he noticed, eyeing up Hogan’s Alley with a nostalgic grin. “How long have you had this newspaper, by the way?”

“A gift for you, obviously,” you replied, tugging the bow on top of the rectangular package. “Are you going to open it?”

“I’m reading,” he teased, tilting his head to see the underside of the package and the conclusion of the Hogan’s Alley comic strip.

“Remus!” You laughed, “you absolute mong, open the package!”

“Alright, alright,” he slipped a finger into the folded edge and tore the paper away from itself, beginning to reveal what you had wrapped inside weeks ago. You’d been waiting for winter break to be over and a good excuse to give Remus the christmas present you’d bought him while you’d been home.

You’d heard him earlier, recalling some story of debauchery that the marauders had gotten up to while at James’ for winter break and you’d listened in shamelessly, minorly jealous that they got to see so much of Remus and you were confined to shared classes and passing in the hallway. You were friends of course, be odd to give a stranger a present, but only school friends. The sort of friends who work on homework together if they happen upon one another in the library. Who chat about the turn in the weather, a particularly difficult assignment, or plans for hogsmeade (plans that never include the other person, of course). You wanted to be more than friends and you had been hoping he’d get the hint since fifth year but he was either extremely stupid (which you knew he wasn’t) or he didn’t like you back and didn’t want to embarrass you. Which was perfectly alright because you were pretty hellbent on embarrassing yourself with no help from outsiders.

“I saw it in a bookshop near my house,” you explained as Remus stared down at the cover of Arsene Lupin by Maurice LeBlanc. “I thought of you.”

“Because his last name is Lupin?” He inquired, holding the book up against his chest, front cover facing you.

“No,” you replied, “because he’s a gentleman thief and master of disguise.”

Remus burst into laughter, clutching the book tighter to himself. The newspaper and bow had fallen to the ground and he stepped back, accidentally crumpling the paper further. “Brilliant.” He sighed, looking at the cover again, “thank you…I don’t have anything for you, I’m afraid.”

“Oh no, it’s alright. I just saw it and thought you might enjoy reading it…I’ve only read the first two myself but I do love them quite a bit.” You explained, trying to sound nonchalant about the present. You’d spent the entire two weeks at home mulling over whether you should buy it, whether it was something he’d like, whether it was appropriate to even give him a gift, and then, when to give it to him.

“Well, thank you,” Remus stepped back further, off the newspaper, and bent to pick it up off the floor of the hallway.

“I can toss that in the bin for you,” You mentioned, reaching a hand out for the rumpled paper.

Remus shook his head, tucking the book between his arm and his side, and began to smooth the paper out and fold it. “Oh no, I quite like the funnies. I’ll enjoy reading them. You can have the bow, however.” He peeled the red bow from the top of the folded newspaper and pressed it against your head, the tape sticking to your hair.

“How does it look?” You joked, reaching up to rub a finger against the velvety ribbon. You’d tied and untied the bow nearly five times before you were happy with it.

“Supreme,” Remus replied, “say, are you going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?”

“Probably, I’ve promised mum taffy from Honeydukes.” You had gifted her some for christmas and it was already gone.

“Ah, perfect. We’ll go together, as my present to you, what do you say?”

“You really don’t have to change your plans around for me,” you replied. It wasn’t so much that Remus had concrete plans, just that everyone knew he spent his Hogsmeade days with the rest of the marauders.

“No change,” Remus promised, glancing down at the folded newspaper and licking his lips, “in fact you’d be doing me a favor. Sirius and James have detention, and Peter’s…busy.”

“If you’re sure,” you began.

“Absolutely,” he lied. They’d only been back to school a week, too short for detention, or at least in this one instance they had seemed to keep their noses out of trouble. He was sure they’d fudge a detention for the greater good, or at least for him getting a date. Though probably it didn’t sound like a date.

“Of course it doesn’t sound like a date Moony, you said ‘let me take you to Hogsmeade as a gift because I was an oblivious twat and didn’t get you anything and I feel bad but also I’ve got no one to go with, which is a lie, so come to Hogsmeade with me?’ when you should’ve just asked them to Hogsmeade properly.” Sirius remarked around a mouthful of chocolate orange.

“It scares me to say this, but I agree with Padfoot,” James replied, sprawled across his bed in the dorm, looking over at Remus with a concerned expression. As if he didn’t always agree with Sirius about everything.

“I’m sure James,” Remus said, his gaze wavering, wandering back to the book that sat on his nightstand. Arsène Lupin looked up at him, gold foil embellishments and silhouetted profile begging to be read. He ran his fingers over the cover as he picked it up, imagining briefly what it might’ve been like to have seen you over break. To have wandered together into a little bookshop in Cambridge, searching through titles and reading aloud bits of summaries that intrigued you. He thought of getting tea, or coffee as he knew you preferred, somewhere quaint and quiet where you could sit at a corner table and whisper with each other.

A real date, not some fallacy.

“Are you off in your own head there Remus?” Sirius asked, eyeing his friend suspiciously. “Don’t go too far honey, you tend to ruin your daydreams before you can romanticise them.”

“I��m not doing that,” Remus huffed, reaching for the curtain on his bed, “you’ll steer clear of Hogsmeade this weekend, swear it?”

“Swear it,” Peter piped up first, looking to James and Sirius for confirmation that they were, actually, going to leave Remus’ plan unscathed.

“Of course,” Sirius’ voice sounded sickly sweet as he smiled, “swear it.”

“Me too,” James replied, a side glance at Sirius ensuring that they were both thinking the same thing. There would be no keeping their promise.

Remus pulled the curtain closed, settling into his blankets and enchanting the light on his wand so that he could read. He read eagerly, devouring the story, or at least as much of it as he could before he felt himself falling asleep. He knew it was probably a bit crazy on his end but he wanted to finish the book before the weekend so he could discuss it with you.

By Friday afternoon he’d selected a whole list of topics and written them out on a piece of parchment, testing the ones he thought might have the best result on Sirius and James (though they were unsurprisingly not helpful).

“Is Herbology an especially favourable subject?” Sirius asked, looking over the parchment as Remus scribbled a note in the corner about muggle books you might’ve read.

“No, actually, I think they were failing until last year…” Remus replied, looking at the word scrawled across the page in his usual neat cursive.

“Perhaps not a good subject then, eh?” Peter asked, straining to see the list.

“True.” Remus scratched it off and looked through the rest of them, “any ideas?”

“Tell them you fancy ‘em and want to snog their face off.”

“Has that worked for you James? Ever?”

“Actually…no.” James frowned, “sorry mate, I’ve got nothing I’m afraid. Quite new to this relationship business myself.”

Remus groaned, not close to being in the mood to hear his friend drone on about Lily Evans when he was meant to be helping. “Let’s stay on task, shall we Prongs?”

“Alright, alright…what about…why are these all school subjects Remus? Surely they don’t want to walk around Hogsmeade talking about classes all afternoon.” James said, plucking the pen from Remus’s fingers and crossing off anything that resembled a school subject. He left muggle books, the only category not related to Hogwarts directly.

“Sad list,” Sirius admitted, clapping Remus on the shoulder.

“I realize that,” he snatched the pen back from James and crumpled the list. “I just want to have a nice afternoon.”

“And you will.” Sirius assured, “they’re absolutely mad about you honey, it’s obvious. Embarrassingly so.”

“Compliment them, it always works for me,” James offered, reaching into his pocket for the leftover candies Peter had brought from home. They were softer than they were meant to be because of the time spent in the pocket of James’ corduroy trousers but no less delicious.

“Has it always worked for you?” Remus levelled, taking a lolly from James’ outstretched palm and peeling away the red and yellow wrapper.

“It eventually worked for him,” Sirius replied.

“Exactly, thanks mate.” James nodded to him.

“Anytime.”

“If you two are done,” Remus interrupted, “perhaps we could get back on track.”

“You don’t need our help Moony,” Sirius assured, ruffling his hair, “you’re a catch, honest. They’d be lucky to get a moment alone with you!” He grabbed Remus’s cheeks in his hand without warning, turning his head as if to show James and Peter, “look at him, regular model face, that is.”

“Get off me Sirius!” Remus huffed, swatting away his friend’s hand.

He crumpled the piece of parchment he’d been writing the list on into a tight ball before tossing it away. It rolled off to a corner, stopping at the edge of a bookcase.

“Looks like your quidditch arm is out of practice there hon,” Sirius teased, sitting down beside Remus.

“None of you are helpful, I hope you’re aware of that?” He replied beginning to gather all of his papers and books together to put in his bag.

“Leaving us?” James asked, chewing on a particularly gummy piece of the taffy lolly.

“I am,” Remus replied.

“Oh come off it Moony, don’t be a sourpuss,” Peter said, earning an approving nod from Sirius.

“How do you expect us to help Moons?” Sirius asked, laying a hand over Remus’ bag to stop him from leaving, “you’re friends with ‘em. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we all love ‘em and think the two of you would make a lovely pair-“

“Brilliant, really,” James piped in.

“Exactly Prongs, but you’ll know what to say better than us. Just don’t overthink it, alright? Any other day with them, yeah.”

“It’s not any other day though Sirius.” Remus sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“You see them in Hogmeade plenty.” He argued, which was technically true.

Remus had run into you plenty of times in Honeydukes or at the Three Broomsticks. On occasion, more in fifth year and then hardly in sixth and now never in seventh, you’d ask if he might want to get a butterbeer with you but he always declined because he was with James, Sirius, and Peter. It was unfortunate and he wished everytime that he just put aside whatever niggling self-doubt existed in the back of his head because he really could be quite charming when he wanted to be (when there were no strings attached…or feelings, more accurately).

“Getting in your head again honey?” Sirius asked, drawing him out of a daydream. A rather bleak one, as it stood.

Remus hummed, “You think it’ll be alright?”

“I’ve never known you to worry this much over a date,” James replied, “what about that bird you went out with over christmas?”

“Exactly my point James,” Remus replied, “I tend to avoid going on dates with people who matter a great deal to me. It’s let’s messy that way, but it’s given me zero training in what I ought to do on a real date.”

“What about all the dates we’ve been on?” Sirius posed and Remus shoved him gently.

“We’ve not been on dates you mong,” he replied.

“That’s truly hurtful hon, can’t believe you would wound me that way when I’m here offering you support in your great hour of need.” Sirius teased.

Remus rolled his eyes at his best friend, finally pushing his chair back and standing up, “I’m heading back to the common room.”

“To wallow in your bunk Moony?” James called, earning and immediate shushing from Madam Pince.

Remus paused monetarily to offer James his middle finger in reply before making his way out of the library. The corridors were empty all the way back to the gryffindor common room and Remus spent the walk trying to rehearse talking points with himself in his head. As much as his friends drove him mad with their advice, he knew they were half-right and fully looking out for him. He just needed to calm down his brain, it was you after all. His darling study partner and an absolute vision in yellow.

You wore a lot of yellow; even Peter had commented on it once in the library (“you wear an awful lot of yellow” “yes, well, I am a Hufflepuff”) but Remus thought of it more like Marigold. Like a flower sprouting up to reach the golden rays of the sun, Remus felt the warmth of the color radiating off of you every time he was near.

It was no surprise then that you turned up in yellow on the morning of Hogsmeade. Black doc martens inherited from your father, yellow corduroy pants and a striped sweater that looked soft and felt softer when he hugged you.

“You look very excited this morning,” you mentioned in a teasing tone, smiling at him.

“Do I?” He asked, looking down at himself as though his excitement was a coat he could simply shed himself of.

“For someone who didn’t have anyone to go to Hogsmeade with,” you replied, “you’re very cheerful.”

“Well, not no one,” Remus insisted, “we’re going together.”

You smiled, tilting your head back as if you were turning your chin to the sun. “That we are,” you agreed.

As other students gathered in the courtyard began to depart for the long trek to Hogsmeade, Remus held his arm up, bent at the elbow, as if presenting it to you. The gesture was an inside joke that probably wasn’t truly funny and that neither of you could accurately recall the origin of but you laughter all the same. You took his arm, fingers pressing into the fabric of his plaid blazer, and allowed him to begin the journey. Mostly it was an enjoyable silence, you didn’t feel any pressure to fill the space (and you almost always felt pressure to fill empty air with some rambling assortment of nonsense) and Remus let his daydreams be far more romantic in nature than he usually allowed.

Remus was a bit of a cynic, more than a bit if any of his friends were queried on the topic, though he was wont to blame his lycanthropy for that less charming quality. Whether he would’ve been prone to cynicism without the affliction or not, Sirius was right. He did tend to let himself talk circles around any good thought that passed through his head until it became absolutely, unbearably, negative.

“Are you having a conversation with yourself there?” You asked, drawing his attention to you. The both of you had passed into Hogsmeade and when you’d begun asking which shop he’d most like to go in you’d realized he wasn’t paying the least bit of attention.

Remus hummed in reply and then shook his head as his brain caught up with the question you’d asked him, “no, sorry. James tells me I’m prone to daydreaming though I don’t often realize I’m doing it, I suppose he’s right.”

“There’s nothing I love more than a good daydream,” you replied, “Did I ever tell you, I zoned out on Alice’s hat when I was being sorted…imagined myself unraveling the whole horrid thing and fashioning it into a cute little top, I’m quite the crocheter, if you don’t know, and the sorting hat thought it was a trip…stuck me in Hufflepuff over the whole thing. Said I had too much going on between my ears,” you laughed as you finished the story and Remus couldn’t help smiling at you.

It was a nonsensical story but it had seemed to ease the tension in his bones, relaxing him enough to let him banish the niggling cynicism that made a home in his head.

“Are you positive it didn’t say Ravenclaw and you misheard, being so distracted as you were?” He asked.

You huffed out a laugh, “I heard correctly! Surely if I hadn’t someone might’ve mentioned it.”

Remus hummed in response as if he was weighing the validity of your argument, “I suppose.”

“I should crochet you something, it probably would’ve made a nicer gift than a silly book,” you mentioned, changing the subject, already thinking how nice Remus would look in a wool sweater. Maybe a maroon or a deep brown, he seemed to always be in earth tones and mismatched plaids.

“I quite like the book, actually,” Remus replied. He’d finished it within the three days between when you’d gifted it him and today. He wanted to be sure he cloud talk to you about and was thrilled to find that he throughly enjoyed the story (and his namesake, though Arséne sounded much classier than Remus).

“Have you started it?” You asked, passed beneath his arm as he held the door open to the Three Broomsticks. As he followed you in he caught sight of Rosemerta, watching him with a smirk as though she knew something he didn’t. Or perhaps she was more insightful than he gave her credit for and she could tell from across the crowded tavern that he was bumbling his way through a first date, hoping that you thought it was a first day to.

“Yes, I started it the other night, really very good,” he replied, taking a window spot.

You sat on the stool beside him, eyebrows pulling together as you looked out the window, your expression half way between surprise and confusion.

“Something wrong?” Remus asked, looking out the window himself but seeing only some younger students he wasn’t familiar with.

“No,” you shook your head, “just thought I saw…can’t be though. Anyway,” you changed the topic quickly, “I tried making butterbeer at home over the holiday but it turned out rather poorly.”

“I’ve never tried making it…don’t think it’s crossed my mind,” Remus replied. He turned in his stool, “just realized I’ve to get the drinks,” he slid off his seat and headed over to the bar to order.

You looked out the window again as he weaved his way through the crowd. Outside, against the backdrop of the snow you thought you saw something, blinking away the image at first and then…you realized you weren’t seeing things at all. Sirius was standing there, looking as if he didn’t know quite how he was visible to you but he recovered quickly, offering a wave and a wink. You waved back and then he pressed his finger to his lips before pointing over your shoulder and you understood the silent request. Don’t tell Remus. You smiled and nodded and then, practically before your own eyes the boy seemed to disappear.

“Here we are,” Remus set the butterbeer in front of you and resumed his spot. “How was your holiday? I don’t think I properly inquired before.”

“It was alright,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink, “my sister’s had the baby, so everyone was in a state over it. You would’ve thought it funny, the little devil puked all down the front of my party outfit on Christmas Eve!”

“Did he really?” Remus hid his mouth behind his glass, taking a somewhat stunted drink as he tried not to laugh at your misfortune.

You nodded in reply, unable to contain your own quiet laughter. “It was quite becoming too, my party outfit. Sirius owled me about coming to a Christmas party, which I was really very surprised by, and I’d picked it out just for the occasion.”

The flush that Remus had felt on his cheeks colored his neck and ears at the thought of Sirius inviting you to their Christmas party. His best friend had been particularly rowdy that evening and Remus had suspected that he’d had something up his sleeve but nothing had ever come of it. Now he knew; Sirius had been trying to get him to “make a move” on you since fifth year, when he’d first caught wind of Remus’ crush. Or infatuation perhaps.

“I’m sure it was lovely,” Remus replied, trying to fit you into what he thought you might wear to a fancy dress party. Something golden and soft and glittery, if he was asked to bet money on his assumptions.

“It really was!” You exclaimed, “I tried a spell to clean it off but i’m rubbish at household magic and ended up melting it! I looked like I was wearing a baby’s bib after they’ve thrown up on it!”

Remus laughed at the image your words produced, taking the final sip of his butterbeer, “I didn’t know you were planning on coming to the party, mishap aside I would have loved to see you there.”

Your heart swelled at his use of the word “loved” and you smiled, “Well my night was just as chaotic, I’m sure. Do you mind popping in to Honeydukes? I don’t want to keep you.”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” Remus muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.

“Sorry?” You had busied yourself with pulling your coat back on and looked up in confusion, having not fully heard him over the commotion of the tavern.

“Oh, I was just uh…I have plenty of time. All day really.” He insisted, standing himself and taking his hat off the table so he could follow you back out to the village street.

“Damn!” You stopped suddenly, recalling with all the annoyance of someone who had forgotten something vital to their daily life that you had left your second present for Remus in the refrigerator at home.

“Are you alright?”

“I’d forgotten, because of baby Lucifer…not his real name ‘course…I made a batch of fudge for you. I was going to sneak it to you at the party but I obviously did not attend and so it’s sitting in the fridge at home.” You replied, already thinking of what you would say in an owl home to your mother.

“That’s alright, honest,” Remus replied, laying a hand gently on the back of your coat. The pressure of his touch seemed to get you moving again. “Wait, why would you need to sneak it to me?” He asked, his mind catching up to the entirety of your situation.

“Well, Sirius invited me to the party, as I’ve said, and he said you’d be there, very specifically too, and so I made you the fudge…this was before I saw the book of course…but I didn’t make anything for anyone else. I hate people feeling left out, naturally, but it didn’t even occur to me until I was getting ready to come over. And then, of course, I suppose it worked out because my sister handed me Fredagar, that’s his real name by the way…a doozy if you ask me…and well, you know the rest.” You replied, “I was looking forward to going though, I thought about owning you over the holiday but I didn’t want to seem like that nagging friend who didn’t know the boundaries of their friendship, you know?”

“You could never,” Remus replied, “I’d like to think there are very few boundaries on our friendship, if any.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” you said, plucking a cellophane bag of taffy off the shelf in Honeydukes for your mum, “I’m not completely clueless though Remus, I know you’ve got a couple secrets up your sleeve.”

Despite the smile when you said it, Remus felt the flush that had been staining his cheeks rush away as he paled. He looked almost nervous, you thought, far more serious than you’d intended. You had a few ideas about what his secret might be, and you knew he had one, but you would never wager a guess out loud. His business was his and if he wanted to share, when he wanted to share, you knew he would.

“Sorry,” you apologized, taking his hand in yours and giving a squeeze of reassurance, “I didn’t mean to upset you Remus, I was only teasing.”

“Of course,” he nodded, squeezing your hand back. “I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t think anything of it,” you replied, “now, tell me how your holiday was? Did you lot get into any trouble?”

Remus tried to refocus, shaking his head gently to clear his thoughts, “With Sirius and James?” He reached for the candy in your hand, “here, let me get this for you.”

“Oh no, you got the butterbeers,” you replied, “besides the taffy is for my mum. I’m only getting the sherbet lemons and the chocolate frog. Hoping it’s not Dumbledore again, got a load of him.”

“James’ got a whole shoebox full of Dumbledores,” Remus replied, “Sometimes he lines them all up and watches him go back and forth between them all.”

You laughed at the thought of James sprawled out with his wizard cards, staring at Dumbledore passing through them. “Sounds like him.” You replied. “No, Remus, really-“

“I insist,” he placed the candies on the counter with his and then realized he’d need his other hand, “sorry I-“

“Oh, gosh, sorry…didn’t even realize I was still hanging on to you.” You let go, crossing your arms and looking around the shop while he paid.

“It’s alright,” Remus took the bag of sweets from the lady behind the counter and then reached over, deciding that maybe a bold move would be the right one, and took your hand again. “Do you want to walk a bit? Maybe?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed, letting Remus lead you back out onto the streets and through Hogsmeade.

The companionable silence from before seemed to fall over the two of you as you made your way around the small village. Remus let himself focus on the feeling of holding your hand in his and not the nerves that were still eating at him from your earlier comment. If he thought too hard on it he’d follow his own rabbit hole to the conclusion that you had figured him out and though you were still very obviously right here beside him, your motivations for wanting to be his friend if you knew were murky at best. He knew he was catastrophizing, even if he didn’t intend to, and that was probably why he didn’t realise exactly where he was until you finally spoke up.

“My sister used to tell me she would lock me in there when she was still at Hogwarts.”

Remus looked up in confusion, the Shrieking Shack standing a few meters away behind an old rickety fence.

“The shrieking shack,” he said, just for good measure.

“What do you think of it?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly and he looked as uneasy as he had back in Honeydukes.

“Oh, just like, do you really think some murderous hermit lives there? That’s what my sister used to tell me, that he built the house on the bones of his victims and that it was their screams you could hear on the anniversaries of their death.” You replied, gravely. Just as quickly you smiled, “or something like that.”

“I’ve heard a different one then,” Remus laughed.

“Have you? Suppose it’s not a murderer then. That’s a relief.” You replied.

“I should tell you,” Remus began, clearing his throat, trying to calm his nerves. “I uh, well, Sirius and James didn’t actually have detention today. And Peter wasn’t busy either, I sort of…well I wanted to come to Hogsmeade with you and I didn’t know or I was too nervous to ask.”

You bit your bottom lip to stop the smile that was threatening to spread. “I sort of, guessed about the Sirius and James bit. Not that I knew you were lying just to go out with me, if that is what your saying-“

“It is. It…how did you know about James and Sirius?” He asked, perplexed.

“I think they might’ve been following us, I saw Sirius outside of The Three Broomsticks,” you replied.

Remus looked around quickly, as if he could somehow see them, hiding out in the open, when it was just the two of you. “You swore you’d stay out of Hogsmeade!” He called to the empty space around you.

And despite Sirius and James appearing seemingly out of thin air you only felt mildly surprised to see them both. “Did your sister really name her son Fredagar?” Sirius asked as he ran a hand through his hair and straightened his jacket.

Remus looked absolutely peeved, though you weren’t sure if it was because they broken their promise or because they’d been following the two of you around Hogsmeade all afternoon. “Oh, come off it Moony, we would’ve closed our eyes if you two started snogging.” James said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

You chose to ignore him and focus on Sirius instead, “afraid so. According to her husband it’s a family name.”

Remus still looked bother and perhaps now a touch embarrassed, the red coming back to his cheeks in full force. He let go of your hand in favor of crossing his arms, looking about the clearing as though someone else might be there as well.

“Peter didn’t come, the spoilsport said ‘we promised Remus we’d stay behind’.” Sirius answered the unspoken question, pitching his voice higher to sound like Peter.

“At least one of my friends actually listens to me.” Remus huffed.

“It’s alright, really,” you promised.

“See, they aren’t bothered,” Sirius pointed out, “can’t believe you weren’t going ti give Jamesy and me a present though. Really gutted over that one. You don’t even know how you’ve wounded me.”

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

“Never. Take it to my grave is what I’ll do.” Sirius joked, clutching at his heart dramatically, “it’s betrayal really, I thought I was your favorite.”

“My favorite what? Pain in the ass?” You laughed.

“And the hits just keep coming!”

James smacked Sirius’ arm, “it’s alright, we all know who your favorite is.” He looked over at Remus, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Christ, can’t you two find something else to do?” Remus asked, “where’s Lily?”

“She said something about someone breaking up with somebody else and having a nice Hogsmeade trip to mend them up…can’t remember specifics.” James replied.

“Good to know you listen to your girlfriend.” Remus snarked.

“I do listen! It’s just that we were making out and she always tells me things when we’re in the middle of it and then I can’t remember what it is she said.”

“Maybe that’s why she does it,” you pointed out, “to see if you’re paying attention.”

“I am!” He insisted, “to her!”

“Let’s just go back,” Remus tried, gesturing for James and Sirius to go ahead.

Sirius looked surprised at the suggestion though, a devilish smile coming to his face as he looked passed Remus to the shrieking shack. “We wanted to check your theory,” he said, looking over at you, “about the murderer in the shack.”

“Sirius!” Remus snapped, the scarlet of his cheeks suddenly giving him a furious look. He was no longer feeling embarrassed or annoyed or even smitten as he had been in The Three Broomsticks. This Remus was pissed off.

“It’ll be fun,” Sirius insisted. He and James were excitable and charming when they wanted to be but sometimes they were downright cads. No regard for anyone’s feelings and taking jokes just over the line until they weren’t funny anymore.

“I think I’d rather just go back to Hogwarts,” you replied, worrying your bottom lip as you glanced over at Remus. He wouldn’t meet your eyes though.

“Just a minute or two, like a dare,” James teased, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you toward the break in the fence where others had clearly manipulated the wire to get in.

“I think-“

“You two are assholes sometimes, you know that?” Remus snapped, hurt more than anger fuelling his words, “I told you to leave me alone for the day and you can’t even fucking do that? You insist on ruining everything!”

You looked over your shoulder, passed James (who was also looking over his shoulder) and realized Remus was trudging back toward Hogsmeade. Sirius had turned to watch him go, picking up the discarded bag of sweets that he’d tossed as he’d stormed out.

“Remus!” Sirius called, still sounding jovial though mildly confused, as if he couldn’t fathom why his friend was upset.

James seemed to have caught on, his hands falling from your shoulders, “sorry, we just thought it’d be a laugh.”

“It’s okay,” you weren’t really sure that it was okay but you didn’t know what other platitude to offer them. “I’ll go see if I can catch up with him?”

“Think that’s best, he might sock us if we follow him now.” James replied.

You took the candy from Sirius and started after Remus, following his tracks in the snow. By the time you got to Hogsmeade, his footpath had muddled with everyone else’s and it was impossible to know exactly where he’d gone. You thought about asking around but then that seemed silly, you had misplaced someone in a village this small? Wouldn’t that just mean they didn’t want to see you? Hogwarts seemed logical, he’d show up there eventually, at least. So you hiked your way back to Hogwarts and were almost immediately reminded why you disliked coming to Hogsmeade most of the time. The treacherous uphill climb back to the school was daunting, especially when you were forced to trek on your own through the snow.

By the time you got back to the castle your knees, shins, elbows and the bottom of your jacket were all wet and icing over. Luck took pity on you though and you found Remus on the bridge, over looking the lake and gorge.

“I‘ve saved your chocolates, which turned out to be quite a feat because I lost my footing at least three times on the walk back,” you called, “you’ll be relieved to have abandoned the day, then you didn’t have to be embarrassed by my clumsiness.”

“I,” Remus sighed as he turned toward you, “I didn’t mean to abandon anything…I uh, I’m prone to a temper every now and again.”

“Is that what that was? You seemed so calm and collected,” you teased, “Sirius was right though, I’m really not bothered. I’m sorry that you were.”

“I just wanted it to be a nice date,” Remus admitted. “I fucked up the ask and then…well I made a whole list of things we could chat about and it was complete rubbish so I tossed it and then I couldn’t come up with anything noteworthy to say-“

“I had a lovely time,” you cut him off, laying your hand on his arm, “you don’t need a list of topics Remus, we’re friends…we talk all the time.”

“Yeah, but not…I mean, not the sort of talk that leads people to think you’re interested in them, in a more than friendly way.” He admitted, “we always chat about friendly things.”

“Well, I could start telling you how gorgeous you look in your vest, would that help?” You asked, reaching out to gently tug the hem of his vest as you spoke.

“Yes, I suppose.” He nodded, “I, as you can imagine, I was planning on kissing you…perhaps, if you wanted to, of course. Not by the shack, that would be unromantic. I was thinking maybe just in the woods but then we wander further than I intended too and, as you know, James-“

You tugged his vest again, a little rougher this time, and leaned in to kiss him. “You know you sound an awful lot like me right now?” You almost laughed, “you’re supposed to be the confident one aren’t you?”

“You should try being me when you’re looking at me like that.”

“What am I looking at you like?” You asked.

“Like, well,” the thought occurred to Remus suddenly, like someone pulling a lightbulb string inside his head and bringing a lamp to life, “like you always look at me.” He said it softly, as if he were afraid to admit what he’d really known all along.

“You’re very clever,” you teased, kissing him once more, “are you positive you aren’t in Ravenclaw?”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x gn!reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era imagine #marauders era fanfic #collecting stories imagine

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zialltops · 4 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: howdy ya’ll! This chapter took me a HOT minute to finish because i’ve been severely sick (if you’ve been on this ride with me since esos you know i struggle with my health) but it’s finally here! I cant thank everyone enough for reading and as much as I wish i could hear from you guys more often, i’m just going to keep writing along and hope someone likes it! The smallest interactions bring me so much joy.

Masterlink

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Chapter 5: On My Way To You

He’s never been more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Never—not ever, has he ever felt this embarrassed about someone seeing him naked. He’s been shot down mid alleyway make-out when she’d pressed too close and felt it. He’s been left in a hotel room when he had a woman naked under him and he finally pulled his pants down. Hell—he’s been told it hurts, asked to stop—asked to leave. But never has it made his heart pound and his cheeks stain red, never made him wheeze from anxiety and dread.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s been doing his best to avoid you, give you the space you want, but you’ve been nicer lately and it makes him want to get closer, test those waters and get to know you, but the second he lets himself start to give in, his body goes full force and he has to get away. Today was a hard day for him because he’d been up late the night before trying to rewire a break in the fence that let out three heifers and the little calf you’d saved on Christmas.

He’d crashed hard last night and woke up too late to work himself over before starting his day—it usually helps him keep his cool, but today he spent two hours hours in the saddle of one of Hank’s horses, moving the heifers getting ready to calf to a smaller pasture, the older steer that were about to be sold off from last years calves to a quarantine pen. It was mindless and easy and Joel spent the whole time thinking about you and your pretty eyes and the way you still wear that necklace every day, like you haven’t even thought to take it off.

By the time he stops by the house for something to drink, he’s already spent half his morning picturing you in every position possible—real like he’s never had it before. He’s smack dab in the middle of one of his favorite fantasies, one where you’re going down on him, fully aware of what’s under his belt buckle and wranglers. You’d be so sweet to him, make him feel desirable without feeling like a chore. You’d kiss the length of him over his denim, drag his pants down his thighs and you wouldn’t gasp in shock. You’d want him—your mouth would water for him and you’d give him those pouty lips and bright eyes when you finally run your tongue from base to tip—it would be perfect—

“Morning Joel.”

He’s so caught up in his vision of you in his head he’s completely unprepared for this version, with berries smeared on the corner of your mouth, like the jam is just too sweet for you to leave untasted—you’re swimming in a sweater too big for you and christ he hates when you wear legging, hugging every curve of your body, filling in the shape of your body like a shadow. He does his best to form a sentence, keep himself from staring at the necklace chain he can see poking out of your collar. you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.

When you lick the spoon clean, his stomach hits the floor and his head spin’s suddenly from loss of blood as everything warm and tingly in his body travels south. He knows he has to get out of there, doesn’t have time to stand here for another second if he wants to keep what's going on in his pants to himself.

He’ll kick himself later for not giving you an excuse to run off, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter right now. He practically runs for the barn, the small bathroom inside is a well learned friend, where he can rub one out fast and get it out of his hungry system. His body is famished, starved for your skin and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

He gets his pants down as fast as he can, spits in his hand and starts quick. God, the way you’d looked at him when he walked in there, like you were happy to see him for once, glad to share his company—if only he wasn’t such a complete piece of shit who can't take a kind gesture for just that.

He sees your smile and he wants to dig his hands into the meat of your ass and hoist you up. Wants to hold you down and take you apart with his mouth. Your eyes meet his and he wants to watch them roll back when you take all of him, like no one ever has, ever will but he can let himself imagine it in this tiny bathroom that smells like livestock and dirt. He can imagine the way you’d want it, want him. The way you’d tell him how good he felt, how good he made you feel despite what he’s always been told about himself.

Just a few more—a couple more tugs and he’s almost there, so fucking close to the thought of your body and his, and…and…

The next thing he knows your eyes are on him, then tick down to his hand wrapped around himself like the pathetic man he knows he is. He’ll never forget the way you looked at him, the way you told him how traumatized you were to see him like that, he’s sure it would have hurt less if you’d stabbed him in the heart with a dull knife.

He fucking runs back to the cabin and get’s himself under a cold shower, trying to keep his hair from getting wet so you don’t know while his body takes a shock to its system, flushing out the desire and replacing it for his shame. When he’s red and shaking from the cold, he re-dresses and heads back towards the house. The longer he hides, the more likely you are to piece together the odd string of occurrences surrounding his disappearances. The longer he waits, the more guilty he looks, so he forces himself up the stairs, trying his best to catch his breath outside of the door until he finally has the gull to knock. He knows you’re in there, he can faintly hear something, soft little sounds that he can't quite make out, so he calls your name when the small rasps don’t catch your attention.

He nearly leaves when the door finally comes open, and…fuck if you aren’t a sight for his painfully sore eyes. You’re red all over, stunning, breathing hard with wide eyes like you’ve been caught at something. Maybe you have, he can imagine, maybe you were touching yourself—thinking about him. It's a futile dream, but he lets himself have it anyways.

No matter how much he runs, how much he tries his hardest to stay away, everything you do ropes him in and hog ties him up, unable and unwilling to be moved until you’ve decided what to do with him now that everything he is, is yours.

It’s shame that keeps him from embarrassing himself again once he drives into town, because the way you press against him in the truck makes his skin boil. He doesn’t deserve to have you beside him after what you’d been forced to witness, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants to slip his hand along your thigh, wishes Tommy wasn’t sitting beside you and he could stuff his hand down the front of your leggings and show you a thing or two—he knows he’s good with his hands—his mouth, he has to be if he wants to get a woman off. He wants to show you exactly what he could do for you, to you, but he keeps his mouth closed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way. It’s infuriating, how much you get along with Tommy now, who’s been nothing but crude to you, making passes at you left and right and god help him, you let him. He wants you to talk to him like that too, he wants to make you laugh, make you giggle and blush prettily.

But he just loads the truck. Watches when you and Tommy snicker over a bottle of whiskey he knows he can't touch because last time he made a fool of himself. He tries not to intrude on your space, tries not to bother you and Tommy around the fire later after he’s done unloading the truck alone. Not even Tommy helps him around here anymore, too far up your ass that he’s damn near useless.

He watches from the window like a fucking creep, trying not to work himself up over the way you smile at his brother, the way you throw your head back laughing at something stupid he probably said. He wants that to be him, sitting beside you with whiskey making him bold, faking it for him since he doesn’t have the ability to just talk to you. He’s sure he’d tell you everything, how beautiful he thinks you are, how much smarter than him you are. He’d probably tell you how many times he’s thought about you with his hands wrapped around himself, in the dark of his room with your name on his lips.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead he watches you from the window and lets his heart ache and pound until he sees the way Tommy lingers closer, touches your leg absently and you let him. He has to put a stop to this, so he tracks out into the cold and tries to put his foot down. Maybe Tommy will go to bed, you’ll let him walk you home and it will be so cold that you’ll ask him to stay again. But before he has a second to beg you otherwise, you’re kissing his brother.

You’re kissing his brother instead of him and he can't watch for another second, so he hightails it inside and slams his bedroom door behind himself. He can usually hear right through Tommy’s wall, but he holds his hands over his ears and tries his hardest to keep the sound of his ragged breaths from making it through the walls. At some point, he falls asleep, wishing you were laying right beside him, sprawled out, satisfied and spent with the shape of his teeth on your shoulder.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s not even close to sun up yet. He has a long day ahead of him, has to ride up to the north pasture, acres upon acres of beautiful pine covered land, but Joel has to ensure that the streams aren’t frozen over if he wants to move the heifers and their calves there soon. He gets dressed with a ache in his bones that he knows didn’t come from his age, his stomach is in knots because he knows what's been done, he knows he can’t change it—that he might not ever stand a chance with you now that you’ve been with him. Women always preferred Tommy over him, all the same cowboy charm with a bit more confidence.

He slips on his boots and places his hat on his head before lingering in the hallway for a long moment. He stares at Tommys door and imagines you sleeping on the other side of it. Did you like it? Do you like him?

He turns and starts down the hallways when the door comes open with a slow creak. He turns back around in the dark light of the hallway and, there you are wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and nothing else, your hair is mused and you have this look on your face, one that reeds shame and worry and for what Joel just can't quite put his finger on. You don’t say anything for a long time, just Joel and you and the fading darkness outside, your eyes tracking over him with a shiny hue to them.

“Where are you going?” Where is he going is the first thing you have to say to him? Like he climbed out of your bed and snuck off. “I uhm…I have a long ride up to the north field, thought I would get a early start on it.” He clears his throat and glances down at his boots, then back up at you. “Though I should give ya’ll some space, no one wants their brother listenin’ in.”

He starts to turn away again because he can’t look at you for another second when he knows you have his saliva on your skin and the shapes of his hands on your body.

“Can I come with you?” Go with him? You want to go with him when there’s a warm body waiting for you in a warm bed, where you can hide from the cold world, the impending darkness and a man like him. “You want to go? Why?” You close the bedroom door behind you like you don't want to wake Tommy and it makes Joel’s heart pound out of his chest for reasons it shouldn’t. “I don't know, it’s cold out there, you’re uhm…you’re naked.”

He tries, really tries to keep his eyes off your bare thighs, the shirt hanging off your frame and your sock-less feet on the hardwood. “I’m not naked, I have underwear on,” you lift one side of the shirt like you have to prove it to him and his eyes track to the black lace hugging your hips. Saliva builds in his mouth and he clears his throat, needing to turn away from you again. “If you want to come you should probably put some clothes on, I’ll meet you in the stable.” He starts to gather up his things, a light and his phone, trying to make himself busy so he can get away. “Well, will you wait for me—I don’t want to walk alone.” And Joel doesn’t want to do this right now, walk with you for a half mile back to the stables, sit beside you, wondering if it aches sitting in the saddle because his brother fucked you.

But he waits anyway, fiddles with the brim of his hat while he sits on the couch in silence as he waits for you to get dressed. You come out in your clothes from the night before, bundled up in a big jacket with your hair tied back. He tells himself not to think about it and heads towards the door. The walk to the stables is nearly silent, but the pounding in his ears drowns out the awkwardness in the interaction. How can he stop thinking about it? How you slept with him but dragged yourself out of bed to follow Joel into the cold? How you would trade a warm body for Joel’s cold shoulder?

“Need help with your saddle?” His voice feels raw from not using it, his hands aching from the cold while he cinches up the girth strap. This time next year, hell be saddling up Cersi to take this trip, he cant wait, but for now he’ll ride Hanks sturdy horse through the mud and snow. “I’ve got it, thank you.” There's no snap in your tone like he expects there to be and you work with him in unison, getting your mounts ready while the sun starts to climb into the atmosphere. By the time he gets out of the barn, you’re smiling at him. Smiling from your spot in the saddle with the reigns in your hands like you’re made for that.

“You ready to get a move on, cowboy?” His chest tightens at the way you gaze at him, wondering if you’d given Tommy that same look the night before. He wants to pretend it was all for him, pretend that you’re looking at him like that because you see something you haven’t before.

“You ready, cowgirl? When's the last time you were in a saddle?” He tries his damndest to keep his tone light as he hooks a foot in the stirrup and hoists himself up. “Been a couple years, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to ride.”

Did you practice last night? He shakes his head and wills away the image. He doesn’t think he'll be able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the ride, he can’t get the image of your mouth on his out of his head no matter how much he tries. It’s always fucking Tommy. He’s always been the favored brother, no matter how much of a fuck up he is. He’s always been the one to get the girl, the popular one in school, hell even his wife—

“You okay in there cowboy?”

Your voice comes like a shock to his system, snapping him out of another unpleasant memory. “Huh?” He looks around until he lays eyes on you, riding beside him with your hands resting on the horn of the saddle. “I was asking if you’re okay…you’ve been really quiet for the past half hour.” Half an hour? It's been a half hour since he started this ride? “Yeah, no, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, is all.” You pick up the pace beside him a little, till your horses are walking alongside each-other on the path. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He sits on the words for a second. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not particularly—but its you and your asking him and fuck, he wants you to get to know him. Maybe if you knew who he was, maybe if he had a chance to explain why he’s like this you might change your mind.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout my ex-wife.” He keeps his eyes ahead of him, because he doesn’t want to see the look on your face when you hear that, that he had a whole other life away from this place. “My mom told me you had an ex-wife. She didn’t tell me what happened.”

You knew? He’d told Hank and Louise a lot about his life, he had to if he wanted them to trust him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a burdened one. “We uh…we had a rocky marriage. Got together young, right out of high school. I was learning to work a cattle ranch and I thought I would be able to give her a good life but—she wanted more, I suppose. Started steppin’ out on me. She got pregnant by another man, but I still didn’t leave. Helped raise that little girl like she was my own.”

He thinks about Sarah and her curly hair that definitely didn’t come from him or her mom, her sweet smile, her first day of school—all the things he missed.

“What made you finally leave?” Your voice is so quiet beside him. He looks over at you under the brim of his hat and sighs. “She slept with Tommy. Came home from picking up Sarah from school and I…caught ‘em together in bed. Tommy said he did it because he wanted to prove to me that she wasn’t any good for me but, I don’t know, I’ve never been very good and stayin’ angry at him.”

Your eyes look far away in that moment, like you’re clouded in some kind of guilt, maybe because you’d slept with Tommy, too. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Joel.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head absently. “Ain’t no thing. I’m used to it by now, he’s always had a way with ‘em that I never had.”

He has, Joel can't even recall every encounter he’s had with a woman that ended with them leaving with his brother. Hell, it had been five years since the last time he’d (kind of) had sex, no thanks to his cockblocker of a brother. The first time in years since he’s felt more than just attraction to a woman and Tommy takes that from him too.

“We should get a move on, we don’t have all day and I have a lot to do when I get back.”

He digs his heal in and the horse picks up speed and to his surprise, you keep gate with him along the trail.

When he gets to the gate of the north pasture, his ass hurts from being in the saddle and his face feels wind chapped, but you don’t complain about a lick of it, like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Joel?” He’s closing the gate behind you when you call his name. It makes him look up from the latch. “Yeah?” He gets it in place and mounts his horse again, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’m really sorry, about how I treated you when I first came home.”

Fuck do you have to do this right now? Out here, where he has nowhere to run off to? “You're not the one who needs to be sorry. I never should have done half the things I did to you. I didn’t even know you and I assumed the worst of you. Should’ve never done any of that to you.” He never should have left you in the cold, never should have treated you any differently than anyone else because he thought you came from somewhere that didn’t like folks like him when he really likes girls like you. So smart and put together, so capable and confident.

“We got off on a bad foot, I suppose…do you think maybe we could…start over?”

You want to start over? With him? give him a second shot to not fuck this up again? Or maybe you don’t mean it like that, like he desperately wants it to mean, even if you fucked his brother last night, he doesn’t care, he’d take his sloppy seconds any day because it’s you.

“I’d really like that.” There's a sweet kind of shimmer in your eyes when you smile at him, rosey cheeks and a crinkle by your kind eyes. His sight ticks down to your chest, where he can see the necklace he’d given you sticking out of the top. You’re still wearing it, had you worn it last night? When he laid you down on his cold sheets while Joel wished desperately it was his?

Despite the pang in his chest, the rest of the ride is easy and light, you talk about nothing and absolutely everything, your favorite color, your favorite time of the year, Joel tells you how much he loves the spring and you excitedly agree, going on and on about watching the world come back to life.

You tell him about college, how out of place you felt surrounded by people who were so different from you. How nervous you were for the first year, but you’d made a best friend out of your room mate Mel, and you finally got the hang of it in your second year.

He tells you about drifting from place to place because Tommy usually stirs up some trouble and runs them out of town. He tells you about all the times he’s had to save his ass to your parents and how much he’s tried to hang on to the one good place he’s had in so long. He could talk to you for hours, all day if you’d let him, and you do. You hold his conversations like you’re a pair of old friends, catching up after years spent apart.

He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t even realize you’re back home until the house comes into view. He’s spent so much time immersing himself in talking to you that he’s completely lost track of where he is, letting the miles blow past him. It’s mid day and he still has a lot to do and he can tell you’re starting to get sore in the saddle. “I’ll get them cooled down, you should probably get some rest. You couldn’t of gotten much sleep last night.” He swings his leg over and climbs off the horse before taking yours by the halter so you can do the same. “Thank you for today…it’s been a while since I’ve had a good reason to ride.” You give him one of those smiles again and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you because of it. He’s wanted to kiss you all damn day, slide his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull and hold on tight, slot his lips over yours and breathe you in deep until he can’t let you go again.

He doesn’t and you head off towards the house while he looks on. He watches till you make it inside and then some before getting back to his chores.

Work consumes the entirety of his day, until the sun sets and it starts to get dark and chilly when he’s finally got the animals fed and the equipment locked up. He knows Tommy is back at the cabin because he dropped off a plate of dinner to Joel in the stable on his way home. He’s about to start the walk back to the cabin himself when he hears the creak of the screen door on the house just across the yard. He closes the barn door behind himself and follows the sounds. You’re standing on the porch in a pair of sleep shorts and slippers, a tee-shirt that's too big and a nervous look on your face. You don't say anything, but Joel’s feet carry him to the steps, then up them one at a time, carefully and painfully slow, like he might spook you away if he moves too quickly. The wind is absolutely howling right now, whipping your hair around and cinching your shirt tight against your frame.

He hits the landing and takes a few more steps forward, until he’s a foot away from your shaking form, your big pretty eyes that are searching every corner of his. He should say something, he should say how much he enjoyed today, how much he wants to do it again and again and again.

“I didn’t have sex with him.”

It’s not what he expected you to say standing out here in this unforgiving cold, but its the best damn thing he’s heard you say all day. It feels like an endless weight coming off his shoulders and he lets out a loud gush of air he didn’t know he was holding. “What?” You puff your chest out a little, like you’re trying to get a point across to him. “I didn't have sex with Tommy last night.” You say it so matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you?” He reaches up and pushes his hat up a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking at the admission. “You know why.”

All at once, his pounding heart comes to a staggering stop, standing there on the porch looking down at you while he tries to keep himself upright. He doesn’t know why but the way you're looking at him now tells him there's something else here besides anger and hatred and shared distaste. You didn’t sleep with Tommy, because on the other side of that wall you were wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you.

“It’s cold out here…do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Joel’s bottom lip quivers so much he has to suck it into his mouth to make it stop, bite down on it to put it at ease. “Yeah, I…I’d like that.”

A warm little hand finds his, tentative fingers intertwined with his while you lead him inside of the house. You don’t take him upstairs, Joel doesn’t expect you to. You lead him to the couch and he sits down, kicking off his boots when you reach up for his hat. You set it on the arm rest beside him and grab a blanket off the back of the couch when he lays himself back on the pillow.

His body aches, his eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t dare close them when he’s got an angel standing right before his eyes. “Goodnight, Cowboy.” You hum sweetly, lean down and press your lips against the apple of his cheek, more delicate than he’s ever been touched before in his entire fucking life.

When you pull away, those same cheeks are painted pink and he does his best not to grin too stupidly. “Goodnight, Cowgirl.”

You take the stairs up to your room but Joel rides the elevator to heaven from his spot on the living room couch.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel miller #rancher joel miller #slow burn joel miller

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angelbaby-fics · 1 year

Text

Daddy's Protector

Pairing: CG!Bucky x Little!Reader (gender neutral!)

Word Count: 720

A/N: This was inspired by my love for vintage toys/stuffies!! This is kind of short, but I'm already kind of thinking about a part 2 🤔 Hope you guys enjoy 💕😁

You sat on the edge of your bed, sulking as Bucky packed your overnight bag. What was planned to be a fun sleepover at Peter’s house had turned into an epic standoff between you and your daddy. To say you were clingy would be an understatement, not that Bucky typically minded that, but he knew it would be good for you to branch out. You’d been excited at first, begging Bucky to let you spend the night at your best friend’s house and excitedly thinking up all the trouble the two of you would get into, but as the fateful day drew nearer, you started to second guess yourself. You’d never spent a night away from Bucky, and in the excitement of the sleepover plans, you had completely forgotten that this was an obstacle you’d have to face. Bucky held up a different patterned onesie in each hand.

“Which one, pumpkin?” He asked, but you just glared. “Come on, baby, you gotta help me out here.”

“Not goin’.” You mumbled, barely loud enough for anyone other than a supersoldier to hear.

“I’ll pack both.” Bucky replied, ignoring your statement. He was the only person who could match your stubbornness. He stuffed both onesies into your backpack, followed by a pair of overalls.

You stayed silent, arms crossed over your chest, and your face in a scowl that started as an intimidation tactic but was now the only thing keeping you from bursting into tears. Watching Bucky pack your things just reminded you that you’d be leaving his side in just a few minutes. You didn’t even like to leave his side when he got up to get a snack or use the bathroom, let alone for a whole entire 24 hours. Now suddenly you had to learn how to have dinner, watch cartoons, get ready for bed, wake up, have breakfast, and play pretend without your daddy. Most terrifyingly, however, you’d have to make it all the way through the night. You had your own room with your own big bed, and Bucky had his, but no matter which room it was in, you were incapable of falling asleep anywhere other than in his arms.

Bucky turned around from your dresser to face you.

“Now, what pajamas do you want?” He asked.

You said nothing.

“Come one, button, I think I know which ones.” He tried again, setting your bag down and approaching your side. “You wanna come to daddy’s room and pick out a shirt to wear for bed?”

You still didn’t reply, but you let yourself be picked up by Bucky. He carried you into his bedroom and tried to set you down on his bed, but you held tight onto his tshirt. Bucky shifted you onto his hip so he could use his free hand to poke around his own dresser drawers. Suddenly he stopped as an idea suddenly hit him.

“Hey pumpkin, I know it's scary to leave, isn’t it.”

You nodded against Bucky’s shoulder, feeling tears prick the edges of your eyes.

“Well, I think such a brave little one deserves a special present, don’t you?”

You picked your head up, meeting Bucky’s eyes with your teary ones for the first time that afternoon.

“You know how daddy always protects you, right?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Well this-” Bucky returned to the drawer and pulled something out “-is who protects daddy.”

He handed it to you, a little white stuffed lamb. You’d never seen a stuffy like this before, it was stiff and faded, with little glass eyes. You turned it over in your hands, and it was obvious that the little guy had been loved for many years prior.

“This is my Lamby.” Bucky said quietly, admiring the way you handled the stuffy with such care. “I’ve had him ever since I was born, and he always kept me safe when I had sleepovers with Steve. Now he can keep you safe at Peter’s house, until tomorrow when I come get you. And after that, we get to spend the whole day together, just you and me.”“And Lamby.” You whispered.

“You and me and Lamby, that's right.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek. You giggled, feeling his scruffy chin against your face. “Now which shirt do you wanna wear to bed tonight, angel?”

#bucky x little!reader #daddy!bucky x reader #daddy!bucky #little!reader #cg!bucky x little!reader #agere #agere fic #chloe's fic

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serasvictoria · 1 year

Text

The House

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader x Steve Harrington

Summary: A test of courage to spend a few hours in the Creel house on Halloween night turns into something else entirely.

Word Count: 9148

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Fingering. Hand jobs. Oral (m receiving). Deep throating. Face fucking. Unprotected sex (P in V). Overstimulation. Swearing. Alcohol use (they drink a beer). Eddie and Steve kinda have a “good cop, bad cop” thing going for a bit (don’t know if that’s worth a warning). Never explicitly stated anywhere, but this takes place after graduation so Reader is of age. And please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: A day late! I can only apologise, but this fic was a lot and only got longer and longer so that’s my excuse. This is my first time writing Steve in a smut fic so fingers crossed I’ve managed to do him justice🤞🏻

Beta read by the magnificent @mylifeisactuallyamess. Thanks again! ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Even now, as you walked up the steps to the front door, you still felt that same rush that you did when you were a kid.

Everyone in Hawkins knew about the old Creel House. The place where Victor Creel killed his entire family in a horrific way that didn’t seem like a human could have been capable of it. People avoided it like the plague and it was almost as if the whole town was waiting for the walls to finally crumble and turn to dust so they could forget that it ever even existed.

“Scared?” Eddie’s grin is wide, bordering on demonic because he was ever the showman. “We can still go back.”

“I’m not scared,” you retort. “Are you?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s just an old house. Its only occupants are probably spiders, mice and bats. Nothing to be scared of.”

You didn’t believe him.

Every kid in Hawkins had gone through the same rite of passage on Halloween night.

Small groups of kids would gather on the sidewalk in front of the house and watch as someone from their group would walk to the front door, knock, stand there for at least thirty seconds before hightailing it back to his or her friends and the process would repeat itself until everyone had done the same thing.

You had managed to do it when you were ten years old, but only barely. It was different now that you were older and wiser and knew that there was nothing to be afraid of.

It was just your mind playing tricks on you, making you believe that every shadow was a lurking demon or that every time the old wood creaked that it was the dead children of Victor Creel out to get you, forever stuck in the old house.

The reason that you were here now was because of one of Eddie’s dumb ideas. He had practically dared you into going to the old house on Halloween night, not just knocking on the door, but actually spending some time inside, too. He probably thought that you’d be too chicken to do it, but you had surprised him by saying that you’d be game.

The days leading up to it had been spent trying to put the other person off from going through with it. Citing various urban legends that surrounded the house, with the murders coming front and center obviously. Neither of you would be deterred however and that was how you found yourself standing in front of that door right now.

In a way you couldn’t quite believe that you were dumb enough to actually go through with it, half expecting that the floorboards would snap in two underneath you the second that you set foot through the door, but it would be worth it simply to wipe the smile off Eddie’s face.

It took him a short while before he managed to get the door open and the hinges creaked loudly when he slammed his shoulder into the old wood.

“Ladies first,” Eddie says with a bow and his arm gesturing into the dark house.

“You pussy,” you mock and then you step inside. When you turn around, he’s still standing right there on the threshold, staring at you wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” You pull your hands into your underarms and flap them around like they’re wings. “Or are you chicken?”

“Pfff. No way.” He straightens up immediately and takes a couple of large strides into the house until he’s standing a short distance in front of you. “Was just waiting for you to chicken out.”

“Yeah right,” you counter. “I could see the look on your face, you know.”

“Sure you could,” he huffs. “Come on. Lets explore.”

It was even creepier on the inside than outside. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The furniture had been left behind, picture frames hung askew on the walls or had fallen to the floor entirely, curtains hung in tatters on the rails, wallpaper was left to peel off the walls and the paint, which had probably been vibrant one day, had dulled over time.

Eddie had brought a couple of flashlights and while he wasn’t really illuminating much apart from his face by holding it underneath his chin almost the entire time, it did work brilliantly by making you focus more on him than on your surroundings.

Leading you into the back of the house, the both of you came to a standstill in what had probably been a study at one point or another. Some of the planks that had been put in front of the windows were missing and the pale blue moonlight was filtering it. It cast the space in an eerie glow.

“This is perfect,” Eddie declares. “We can hang out here.”

“What was the plan anyway?” You run a finger over one of the windowsills and look at the caked dust on the pad as you bring it up to your face. “You never were clear about that.”

“Nothing apart from drinking a couple of beers,” he shrugs.

“Huh,” you look around the space once more. “You just wanted to sit on the floor? Your jeans will get dirty.”

“I have a blanket in the van.”

“Of course you do,” you sigh. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me.”

“I sleep in there sometimes,” he responds.

“Sure, Eddie. Is that why you have condoms in the glovebox too?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. Again.” He gives you the finger and you roll your eyes. “You wanna come with me and get the blanket and the beers?”

“No thank you,” you reply quickly. “I’ll wait for you right here.”

“Right here? You sure?” He actually sounds worried and you were somewhat sure that he wasn’t taking the piss. “You don’t have to act like a badass just to impress me, you know.”

“I’m not!” You step closer to him until you’re close enough to nudge his shoulder. “Just be quick, alright?”

“Fast as the wind, babe,” he says with a wink. “Promise.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but not because of the creepy house this time. Eddie flirted with everything that had a pulse, but it still made your heart flutter when he called you by an endearing nickname.

Eddie whistles as he walks off, some tune that you can’t quite place and that you highly suspect is from some random horror movie seeing how it sounds a bit sinister. You can hear him off in the distance, on the porch right outside, then on the path, until you can’t hear him at all anymore.

Now that Eddie had left you on your own, you weren’t so sure if you could handle it. You had merely told him that you could so he wouldn’t make fun of you (not that he ever would) and you were regretting it now.

It was as if every part of the house creaked now, as though the walls were talking and were telling you to get the hell out of here, but you couldn’t. Your legs were frozen in place, unable to move. You brought your hands up to your chest, feeling your heart beat furiously inside your ribcage and you took in a deep breath in the hopes of making it stop.

It didn’t work.

If anything it only felt like more adrenaline was being pumped through your system, triggering even more feelings of fear. You found yourself wishing that Eddie would come back soon, to have him fill up the silence by cracking dumb jokes, anything to pierce through the silence of the house. If your mouth had been able to move, you would have called out to him, but your jaw was clamped tightly shut.

When you feel a hand touch your shoulder, your entire body jolts before you breathe a sigh of relief, and you almost say the name of your friend as you turn around and find yourself staring straight into a Michael Myers mask instead.

You scream. It’s louder than you have ever screamed before and seconds later, you curl in on yourself, hands wrapped around your body and rocking back and forth on your heels.

The voice that answers isn’t Eddie’s voice and it barely even registers who was underneath the mask when he pulls it off, crouches down in front of you and tries to get you to calm down.

“Hey, hey,” Steve says softly before saying your name a few times. “Jesus Christ. Relax. It’s just me.” By this point, you’re crying and you can see the horrified look on Steve’s face over how badly wrong this prank even went. “Oh fuck. Please calm down.”

But you can’t.

So Steve does the only thing that he can think of doing.

From out of nowhere, he suddenly presses his lips down on yours and he keeps them there until you eventually reach out, tangle your fingers in his shirt and sigh. He pulls away slowly and you blink a few times just to make sure that he was really there.

“Okay now?” You nod and Steve smiles at you as he wipes your tears away. “Jesus, I didn’t even know you could scream that lou- Ow!” You slap his chest suddenly. “What was that for?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Steve!” When you try to hit him again, he grabs your wrist instead to ensure that you can’t hit him again. “Can’t believe that you’d do that to me!”

“It was Munson’s idea,” Steve jerks his head back to the doorway where Eddie stands, blanket and six pack of beer in his hands and staring at the two of you, his expression unreadable. “He thought that it would be funny.”

“Not funny, Eddie!” You flip him off. “Why would you even ask him to do that? That’s such a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles before walking over to where you and Steve were, spreading the blanket out next to you and sitting down on it. “Shoulda seen your face though,” he says, but there’s no real amusement in his voice. It just feels a bit… empty.

He pulls one can of beer from the plastic rings and gestures at you two to take one as well. You and Steve share an awkward look and then you join Eddie.

Instead of listening to Eddie’s voice as he fills the silence with all kinds of stories, you find yourself listening to Steve talk instead. He talks about work and Dustin who had come in to ask for the scariest movie that they had, which Steve had to deny him on account of his age. He recounts Dustin’s reply word for word and you laugh until your sides hurt.

Eddie is uncharacteristically silent. He keeps looking at you and then at Steve, biting his bottom lip and looking down into his can of beer wistfully.

Eddie had planned the whole thing out.

Steve would scare the crap out of you and then Eddie would swoop in, acting all heroic, you’d fall into his arms and then he could finally tell you exactly how he had been feeling about you for a while.

Instead, Steve had completely stolen his thunder and had ended up kissing you instead. Suave bastard. Leave it to King Steve to ruin everything.

Maybe he should have asked Dustin to scare you instead, but since he had other plans Eddie had never asked him about it. Instead opting for Steve because he didn’t have a date for once in his life.

Now he’s forced to sit there as Steve makes you laugh and he hates that he even feels this way. Eddie had prided himself in the fact that he has never once been jealous of Steve, hell, he really liked the guy too, but he sure was green with envy now.

Steve throws a couple of odd looks in Eddie’s direction as well, as if he was silently asking him what the fuck he was doing and why he wasn’t joining in with the storytelling because Eddie was far better at it than he was, but he got nothing back in reply.

“Oh, Steve!” you suddenly exclaim. “Didn’t you have to get that thing?”

“Thing?” He looks confused and honestly, anyone would have. “What thing?”

“You know,” you hiss and your eyes dart over to Eddie until you see some spark of recognition bloom in Steve’s expression. “That thing.”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he mutters, unconvincingly. “Now I remember. So I guess I should uh… get it huh?” You roll your eyes at Steve’s sad attempt at acting. You’d think that he would be somewhat better at this. “The thing.”

“Yeah, you should.” You pull on his arm to drag him in closer so you can whisper in his ear. “Give us a couple of minutes, alright?”

“Sure,” he replies. He gives your shoulder a stiff pat and gets to his feet. Steve can’t seem to resist giving you and Eddie a weird thumbs up which he follows up with the immortal words, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids.”

A groan escapes your lips and you mouth the word, “Go,” at him until Steve leaves the room. You look over to where Eddie is still sitting, unmoving like a statue, and you can’t help but feel sorry for him. You really needed to get to the bottom of his sudden mood change.

“What’s gotten into you?” You sidle up close to him and put your hand on his forearm. “You’re so quiet.”

“Nothing.” Eddie couldn’t keep the dejected tone out of his voice and you frowned at him. “Long night.”

“It’s about ten thirty,” you say softly. “You’re usually not in bed until around two in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, I did a lot of stuff today, you know.” It was the weakest excuse that he could have come up with and he hoped that you bought it. “Had to help Wayne with some stuff around the trailer.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in reply and he can tell straight away that you don’t believe a single word that he’s saying. “Sure.”

“What?” Eddie can’t stop himself from bristling slightly at your reply. “It’s true.”

“No, it isn’t.” You shift until you’re sitting right in front of him, but he seems reluctant to look you in the eye. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s really going on? If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go home.”

That got his attention.

“You can’t leave!” There’s a bit of a panicked look in his eyes, but at least he’s looking at you now. “I’m sorry, alright? But please don’t go.”

“I’ll go if you won’t talk to me,” you repeat once more. “So spill. Tell me what’s up.”

“Alright,” he said with a groan. “It’s Harrington.”

“What about him?”

“Are you for real?” Everything about his tone of voice tells you that he seems to think that you should get it, but you have no idea what he’s on about. You look at him questioningly until he follows up on his question with an annoyed sigh and says, “He kissed you!”

“Yeah, he did,” you shrug, because you hadn’t minded at all. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes! He wasn’t supposed to-“ Eddie swallows his words back down. If he told you what the problem was, you’d laugh at him, of that he was certain. “Eh. It’s eh… he’s lame.”

“No. Fuck off. Don’t do that, Eddie. He wasn’t supposed to do what?”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. He didn’t have a choice now. He had to come clean. If he didn’t, you would leave and he definitely didn’t want that to happen. “He wasn’t supposed to kiss you.”

“And why not?”

“Because… ‘cause… that’s what I wanted to do,” he eventually mumbled.

“Oh yeah?” In all the time that you have known Eddie, you never once thought that you’d hear him say that. You had dreamed of it, of course, but it’s quite different to actually hear him say it. You actually give the back of your hand a squeeze just to make sure that you’re awake. “You wanna kiss me?”

“Yeah.” He says it so softly that you can barely even hear him at all. “I do.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Wait.” Eddie blinks in surprise. Very much like you were thinking earlier, he obviously hadn’t expected you to say that. “You want me to kiss you?”

“You can if you want to,” you reply shyly. “Just saying.”

“Shit.” He looks at your face more closely, probably to check if you’re being sincere, but there’s no hint of a lie to be found anywhere. “Shit. Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You look down at yourself and pull on a stray bit of thread that came loose from the hemline of your shirt. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” The thread is instantly forgotten when he says that, making you look back up into his dark eyes. “Yes, I want to.”

You lean forward a little, moving into his space, and Eddie’s eyes widen, surprised that you even want him to kiss you. He leans in, too, close enough for him to count your eyelashes if he wanted to, and being this close is making his heart race.

This was really happening. This was actually fucking happening.

Your lips touch, nothing more than a light brush against each other as you finally make contact, and he finds himself pulling away just a tiny bit, only for you to give chase and pressing your lips back on him with some more force. Your hands move to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair to ensure that he can’t pull away.

Eddie gives in all too easily and your lips press and slide against each other. His tongue moves over your lips, following the crease between them, and you open your mouth to give him access. His tongue dives into your mouth, seeking out yours so they can move together.

You sigh and his hands move to your waist, pulling you in closer until your chests are pressed flush together. Eddie can feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through your shirt and bra.

A loudly creaking floorboard pulls the both of you out of the moment.

Your heads turn as one to see Steve leaning against the doorway, his arms folded in front of his chest, and with an amused look on his face.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“We were until you interrupted,” Eddie grumbled.

“I guess,” you say with a mischievous grin. When Eddie pinches your arm, you wink at him. “I was kidding. That was a good kiss.”

“Better than mine?” Steve asks as he settles back down on the floor in the same spot where he was sitting before.

“Didn’t last long enough so I can’t exactly compare you guys,” you giggle.

Steve takes a sip from his beer and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He wipes his mouth with his hand and suddenly asks, “You want to?”

The whole atmosphere in the room changes suddenly. The three of you exchange looks and there is a pause as you wait for someone to raise any objections, but nothing happens.

Even the house is silent, like it’s holding his breath as it waits for events to unfurl.

The silence drags on and from the way that Steve is looking at you, eyebrows raised and one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile, makes you realize that you were supposed to say something.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you let slip, speaking so quickly that it almost comes out as one word because your nerves briefly seem to have taken control of your mouth. Steve tilts his head to the side when you give him that as an answer. This was not the time to be flippant. “Yes. I do,” you amend yourself with more certainty.

“Okay.” Steve shrugs with a grin before getting up and sitting down next to you. He brushes some hairs out of your face and his hand lingers on your jaw as he leans in slowly. “Now be sure to tell us who’s the better kisser.”

Kissing Steve is different.

With Eddie there was an underlying sweetness and a hint of hesitation, but Steve kisses you with a lot more certainty. He doesn’t hold back like Eddie initially did and hits you with the full force of what he can do.

You’re reduced to moaning into his mouth within seconds, the muscles in your thighs quivering as every press of his lips goes straight down to your core. Seemingly noticing this, Steve’s hand drops down to your lap, his fingers gingerly brushing over the front of your jeans at first before pressing down harder and making sparks fly from your cunt.

Not wanting to be outdone, you feel Eddie’s chest pressing against your back. He removes your jacket first and then his hands circle your waist momentarily before he cups your tits and gives a squeeze that’s almost too gentle. You mewl between the two boys and your mind has a hard time processing that this is even happening at all.

You pull away from Steve’s lips with reluctance. “What are we doing?” Steve’s lips settle on your neck where he starts creating marks by sucking on your skin. “Are we going to have sex in a haunted house?”

“You wanna have sex?” Eddie attempts to sound scandalized, but it doesn’t help that he’s chuckling and then Steve starts laughing, too. “Such a filthy girl.”

“If I had known this beforehand, I never would have kissed you,” Steve agrees. “You actually want us to fuck you on this old floor?”

“I dunno,” you gasp. “You guys just want to keep touching me like this?”

“Like what?” Steve counters as his deft fingers pop the button of your jeans, pull the zip down and then slides them in. “Like this?” He doesn’t have much room to work with, but his digits slide up and down your wet panties and you push up into his hand. “You’re soaked, babe.”

“Fucking knew it,” Eddie breathes into your ear. “She’s practically gagging for it.”

“You were right,” Steve acknowledges and the pad of his index finger rubs circles around your still covered up clit.

“You guys planned this?” The question spills out of you in between little gasps and moans as two sets of hands keep touching you. Eddie’s lips are on your shoulder, dragging back and forth, and Steve keeps his beautiful eyes on you at all times. “That’s just so-“

“Right?” Steve interjects.

“Filthy?” Eddie says at the same time.

“Unexpected,” you say instead. “I had no idea-“

“I didn’t exactly plan this,” Eddie reveals. “Didn’t get further than kissing you if I’m honest.” You crane your neck, turning your head slightly so you can just about see him. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” Steve affirms. “And what about you?” He addresses you now, looks for even the slightest hint of doubt on your face. “You can still opt out. No hard feelings.”

“I could,” you reply teasingly, wanting to keep them in suspense for a little bit even if you were already ridiculously into this. “You guys wouldn’t hate me for it?”

“I wouldn’t,” Eddie’s lips move against your skin as he talks, the collar of your shirt pulled to the side to give him more room to work with. “I’d just be incredibly disappointed.”

“And you?” Your hand loosely curls around Steve’s bicep. His fingers never once stopped working you over, continuing on with their ministrations over your soaked through panties. “Would you be disappointed as well, Steve?”

Worldly Steve Harrington gives you nothing to work with, nothing apart from a smirk, because he already knows what you want. He had seen it written all over your face from the moment that you agreed to let him kiss you again.

You’re so fucking hungry for both of them.

“Fuck it.” You knock your back into Eddie’s chest. He gets the idea and pulls away. Steve merely looks at you with his eyebrows raised when you peel his hand out of your jeans. You take a deep breath. “Fuck. It.”

Getting to your feet, you take a step back and both the boys look up at you expectantly. Reaching down to the hemline of your shirt, you pull it up over your head. You kick your sneakers off and then strip out of your jeans.

So now you’re standing in what was probably once the dining room of an old house, a house that may very well be haunted, and you’re in your underwear. You’re standing in front of two guys, two very hot guys, and you’re about to embark on something that you had only ever dared dream about.

Eddie gets up first and all the uncertainty from before is gone. It’s replaced with confidence now that you’ve made it clear that you are very into this.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath as his eyes rake up and down your body. He cups your cheeks and kisses you with such force that it makes your head spin. “I always had you down as innocent, you know?” You laugh at that. “For real,” Eddie emphasizes. “Because you always looked like it. So sweet and perfect. Silently asking to be defiled.”

“Sorry.” You’re having a hard time not scoffing in his face, because you were far from as innocent as he’s making you sound. “Did I burst your bubble?”

“You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.” His words make a shiver run down your spine and you swear that it makes you go even wetter as well. “But I never thought you’d be this filthy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out exactly how bad I really am.” Your hands move to his vest, sliding underneath the leather jacket and pushing it off his shoulders until it falls to the floor with a thud. “You want to know what I’m really like?”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out and your hands slide over his chest, feeling every muscle through the thin Hellfire shirt that he wore. “What are you gonna do?”

“You’ll see.” You don’t remove his shirt, nor do you tell him to take it off, not yet. Your digits skim over his nipples over the fabric and you see Eddie’s hips jerk forward a little. “I want to make you feel good.” His beautiful eyes were squeezed shut for a second there, but as soon as you start undoing his belt, he looks down. “Will you let me?”

With his belt now hanging open, you start undoing the button of his jeans and then slowly slide the zip down. His eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets when you sink down onto your knees.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, somewhat unable to believe his luck. You pull his jeans down roughly, down past his knees. When you pull his plaid boxers down, his big dick nearly pokes your eye out. “Oh fuck.”

Grabbing his thighs, you make Eddie turn a fraction, just to make sure that Steve has one of the best views in the house. Your gaze falls down to his hand which is palming the front of his jeans to relieve some of the tension that’s building.

You know for a fact that Steve is packing, it’s all in the way that he carries himself. It is something that is also confirmed by his tight jeans that leave nothing to the imagination. It’s all right there, on display for everyone that wants to see.

Eddie’s just about had enough of waiting and he grabs his cock so he can wipe the ruddy tip over your cheek, just to remind you that he’s still there.

“Didn’t forget you,” you say as you look back up at him. Your index finger swipes over your cheek, to gather the drops of precum that he smeared over your skin, and you stick it in your mouth so you can suck the salty fluid off. “I’d never.”

A potential smartass reply dies in his throat and turns into a groan instead when you finally take his cock into your mouth.

This is as much a show for Eddie as it is for Steve and you start licking Eddie’s cock like it’s a popsicle. The noises you make are over exaggerated, humming and moaning like you were having the best meal in your entire life.

Steve’s hand slides down into his jeans and the way that he angles himself, just about able to wrap his fingers around himself, makes the reddened tip of his dick poke out of the top of his boxers.

You gesture with your hand in an effort to make Steve come closer, which he does. You circle the fingers of your free hand around the base of Eddie’s cock and lazily start jerking him off to make sure that he wasn’t being left out.

When Steve’s close enough, you attempt to push down his jeans, but when you’re only able to uncover part of the trail of hair that goes down into his underwear, he gives you a helping hand instead.

Steve doesn’t work slow. He pushes the fabric down just far enough for his cock to jump out and you audibly gasp when it’s finally revealed. He’s long, thick too, and you honestly can’t wait until he impales you on it.

You spit on the palm of your hand, reach down and lubricate his shaft with your saliva. Then your digits curl around the velvety skin, squeezing once, and then your hand starts gliding up and down his length.

Turning your head back in Eddie’s direction, you take him into your mouth again, deepthroating him to make up for your previous neglect. The noises he makes are a fair indication that he’s more than willing to forgive you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with your mouth full,” he remarks. “Don’t you think so too, Harrington?”

“Yeah, she does,” Steve agrees. “She can’t give us any lip now.”

“True.” Eddie’s hand moves to the back of your head, just to make sure that you can’t pull away. “Bet you’d like to though, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

You manage to get out a distorted “uh-huh” and the boys laugh cruelly, amused at your current predicament. Though it couldn’t exactly be called a predicament when you were this into it.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you keep moving your mouth up and down Eddie’s cock, mirroring the speed with which your hand was working over Steve’s. Both of them swear under their breaths and their joined moans are like the sweetest music that you've ever heard.

“Such a good girl,” Eddie comments.

“Think that you earned yourself a little reward, baby,” Steve adds. He pulls your hand away from him and you would have asked him why if you could have, but he moves until he’s right behind you so you can’t see him anymore.

Soon enough, you feel him though. One of his hands settles on your stomach and starts to dip down lower until it’s between your thighs. His fingertips move over your panties and come to rest on your mound, his touch feather light and barely applying pressure at all. You whine pathetically and Steve chuckles in your ear.

His free hand moves in, hooking the saturated cloth under his thumb and pulling it away so that your cunt is now exposed to the cold air. He is still hardly touching you, his fingers digging into the top of your thigh, about an inch away from your burning core.

When his fingers finally touch your pussy, you sigh deeply, satisfied that he’s finally touching you right where you want him to.

Steve wastes no time. He slides his fingers between your wet lips, picking up enough moisture and sinks one finger in shortly after. One finger quickly becomes two and he fucks you with his fingers so fast that you can barely keep up with his onslaught on your cunt.

Steve’s erection pokes in your lower back, as a reminder that he’s still hard, his hips gently rocking back and forth against your flushed skin.

Since you’re now too focused on the pleasure that Steve is bringing you, you in turn lose sight of Eddie. Though you could have argued that that was impossible to do seeing how his dick was still firmly pressed into your mouth.

Eddie’s hands grasp your face, his touch far from gentle now, fingertips threading into your hair. His hips advance forward, holding your head still as his cock hits the back of your throat and he starts rocking back and forth.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says in a tone that sounds far from apologetic. “Had to take matters into my own hands.” You look up at him, tears already forming in your eyes, blurring your vision. “You don’t mind, do you?” Eddie relaxes his grip on you slightly, just enough so that you can shake your head a little. “Good fucking girl.”

Steve’s fingers curl up inside you, pressing against your sweet spot, the one that makes your toes curl, and you moan loudly around Eddie’s cock, who can’t help himself as soon as he feels the vibrations from your voice and presses in deeper than before. He can feel the muscles in your throat fluttering around him deliciously.

Saliva bubbles at the corners of your mouth and spills out as you choke around him. You breathe in deeply through your nose, letting Eddie continue to use you for his own needs.

Steve doesn’t let up either, his fingers not so much thrusting now, but more curling and constantly prodding that ribbed part inside. You can feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach, muscles tightening around his thick digits and your orgasm hits you with the power of a freight train.

You would have screamed if you had been able to. Instead the sounds of your sudden climax come out all garbled. Eddie doesn’t grant you a moment reprieve either, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he keeps fucking your face.

The first spurt of his cum hits the back of your throat and you do your best to swallow, to devour everything that he gives you, but when he pulls his softening dick out of your mouth, a little trickle of his seed comes out, mixed with your spit, spilling down your lip and chin.

“What’s this, sweetness?” Eddie notices immediately and his thumb wipes the residue away gently. “You made a mess.” He forcefully shoves his thumb into your mouth. “Suck.”

You do as he commands and your tongue twirls around it, cleaning off whatever leftovers were stuck to the pad of his finger and he doesn’t pull it out until he’s satisfied that you got rid of everything.

“Good girl,” he coos. “Isn’t she well behaved?”

“Very.” Steve’s lips brush against the shell of your ear and the skin on your arms bump instantly. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me, too, baby?”

“Yes,” you reply resolutely. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Even better,” Steve says. “We like that, don’t we?“

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Eddie sits back down, right in front of you and Steve, and he looks on hungrily. “What do you want Stevie to do to you, sweetheart?”

“W-want him to-“

“Don’t tell me,” Eddie cuts you off with a grin, “tell Steve.”

When you turn around to face him, Steve has an expectant look in his beautiful eyes, waiting for you to tell him exactly what you want him to do to you.

“I want you to fuck me, Steve,” you confess, “want you to fuck me real good.”

“Oh yeah?” He reaches out and trails his fingers from your shoulder down your bare arm. You shiver as soon as he makes contact with your skin. “Is that what you want?”

“Y-yes,” you confirm, “that’s what I want.”

“Take off your bra.”

Steve doesn’t just ask you, no, he’s telling you, and you’re willing to comply with his demand partly. You reach around your back and unhook the garment. You hold the cups in place with one arm and slide the straps down your arms with the other.

“Take it off for me?” You bat your lashes at him and bite your bottom lip.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles. He removes your arm from your chest and your bra simply slides off as soon as that happens. “Would you look at that,” he whistles through his teeth. “Aren’t you pretty.”

The urge to cover up is damn near overwhelming, their intense stares are practically killing you, but as soon as you shift your arms, the movement so slight it should have been imperceptible, Steve notices.

“Don’t.” His hands come up to your elbows, firmly holding them in place. “Don’t cover yourself up.”

An apology forms in your mind, but there’s little chance to actually utter it. Steve dips his head down, until he’s level with your chest, and licks a line from between your tits up over your sternum.

His lips start moving over your neck and to the bottom of your jaw, nice and slow, kissing his way up until he can blow air into your ear. It makes you shiver.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve speaks in hushed tones, almost as if he doesn’t want Eddie to hear what he’s telling you. “I always thought so, you know?”

“I didn’t,” you answer. His hand is on your lower back, index finger hooking underneath the elastic band of your panties so he can pull it away from your body and snap it back.

“Well, you are.” He picks at the waistband impatiently. “Why don’t you take these off, too?”

“Gladly.” You reach out, place a few fingers on his thigh and tap his jeans. “Are you going to do the same?“

“Guess I’ll have to.”

It doesn’t take that long until both of you are completely naked from the waist down. It does not escape you that you’re the only one that’s completely naked now either.

“You gonna let me fuck you in front of Eddie?” Steve husks in your ear when he leans in. “Make him watch while I split you open with my dick?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

“Please? Damn, I love that.” Steve sits back, long legs spread out in front of him and his arms positioned behind. You move in to straddle his hairy thighs and wait for him to make a move, but nothing happens. He flashes you a wide grin and says, “Go on. Put it in.”

Your eyes fall on his massive erection and you can’t help but swallow hard.

Obediently, you rise up, position his cock in front of your entrance and sink down on him. It’s insane how he just seems to keep coming, like there’s no end to his cock, but you’ll be damned if you let him break you.

Not when Eddie’s waiting in the wings to take over as soon as Steve’s done with you anyway.

You keep letting yourself sink down a little bit more at a time, taking inch after inch, until you finally reach the end of him. You inhale a sharp breath as you try to adjust to his size.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you whine. “You’re in so deep that you’ll be coming out my belly button as soon as I move.”

“Think that you can’t take it?”

“Fuck, you think that little of me?” You grind your hips against his, slowly, slow enough to savor the feel of him. “I’d like to try.”

“Shit,” he laughs. “You’re a fucking dream, babe.” Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his yellow sweater and you pull on it harshly. “Off?“

“Yeah, off.” He pulls the sweater and the shirt that he had on underneath off. As soon as his chest is bare, you run your hands up and down his chest, feeling his chest hair on your palms. You lean forward to lick a stripe up his neck and when you reach his ear, you take the lobe between your teeth and give a gentle tug. “I’m gonna move now,” you tell him.

“Go for it.” He can’t resist smacking your ass and squeezing you roughly when you finally start rocking against him. “That’s it, baby.”

Hanging onto his shoulders, you start riding him. It’s all you now, Steve barely moves, instead looking closely at the point where your bodies meet and how your cunt greedily keeps sucking his cock back in.

Arching your back, you push your chest out and put a hand on the back of his head to pull him in closer until he figures out what you want him to do.

His lips latch onto your nipple, his mouth hot as he sets to sucking gently. You buck up, hips lifting so far up that his cock almost slips out entirely, but you catch yourself just in time and slam back down.

“Fuck, Steve.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on the strands every time that his tongue swipes over your hot skin. “Feels so good.”

“You feel good,” He exhales against you. “So fucking tight. You fit like a glove.”

Finally he moves, angling his hips so he can fuck up into you, and you mewl his name. He rams in so deep that it should have been painful, but the ecstasy that’s budding is starting to overtake all your other senses.

Shoving a hand in between your bodies, circling your clit with two fingers. The combination of his thrusts along with your own assistance are electrifying and you start chasing your release with desperation.

Steve mutters words of encouragement which you barely hear, because of your climax peaks and flows in waves through your body, from your cunt to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Your body goes limp, your head sagging forward slightly, and you need a second to recollect yourself. The only thing that even snaps you out of it is the fact that Steve is still rock hard. Tilting your chin back up, you stare deep into his blown out pupils for about a second before he surges forward.

There’s a sense of urgency in the kiss that he gives you. He’s barely able to press his lips on yours as it is, but Steve still tries. You feel his tongue at the corner of your lips and you close your lips around it so you can suck it into your mouth. He gasps, the kiss turning sloppy again, and he wraps his arms around your waist tightly.

“You gonna come, pretty boy?” He presses his head against your shoulder, teeth scraping over your skin as his thrusts grow more uneven. “Huh? You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck,” he breathes against your skin.

“Fill me up, Steve.” His hips jerk more roughly up into you. “I want your cum so bad.”

You scream when Steve bites down on your shoulder hard, his climax finally hitting him and needing another outlet. The last few thrusts are weak and then he stills entirely. His tongue laps at the mark that he just left, lazily following the outline of his teeth that was already appearing.

“Sorry,” he breathes against your skin. “Couldn’t control myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply and you push him away from your shoulder so you can cup his face and look him in the eye. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve kisses you then and you can feel him smiling against your lips. “So, so good.”

Steve hangs onto you for a bit longer, his arms still wrapped around your waist, unwilling to let you go. You come down from your high together and you’re almost reluctant to let him go, but you hear Eddie exhaling deeply behind you (you don’t even remember him lighting a cigarette) and realize that you have to let go of Steve.

You start shifting a few seconds later, having now entirely caught your breath. Your lips find Steve’s again and you kiss him lazily when you push yourself up, softly groaning when his now soft cock slides out.

“Don’t move.” There’s an underlying sense of hunger to Eddie’s voice and you can hear him move in behind you. “Hold on to Steve’s shoulders.”

With your ass still in the air, you hold on to Steve, whose gaze is fixed entirely in your face. Then you feel a hand on your ass, squeezing, and another one on your slit, fingers sliding in all too easily after Steve spread you open.

“Fuck, it’s leaking out, man.” Eddie sounds impressed as he says that to no one in particular and then two fingers appear in your line of vision. It’s wet with your and Steve’s bodily fluids. “Suck.”

Like earlier, you oblige and start sucking off whatever was on there. The only difference now is that you can feel the tip of his cock prodding your opening. You moan around his fingers when he slides in entirely in one fluid movement.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Told you,” Steve chimes in.

“You did.” Eddie pulls his hand away from your lips and moves it down to lightly grab your throat. Then he pulls back before slamming back inside you roughly. “This fucking pussy,” he groans in your ear. “It’s sucking me right back in.”

“Still haven’t had enough?” Steve places his hand over his heart and pouts at you. “You wound me.”

You don’t answer. You don’t think that you’re able to remember any words at all now that Eddie is plowing into you while you’re practically in Steve’s lap.

Eddie’s ringed fingers squeeze your neck, cutting off your air supply for a split second.

“He asked you a question.” Eddie’s voice is low as he hisses in your ear. “You still want more?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out. “Can’t- can’t get enough.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Guess I’ll just have to give you what you want then.” The speed of his thrusts increases until he’s pounding into you and reducing you to nothing but a whining mess. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

It’s nothing short of insane that Eddie is even able to keep up this manic pace at all, the sound of his skin slapping against yours so fast that you can’t keep track, but somehow he manages.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, your eyesight glazed over by now. You’re so far gone that you haven’t even realized that you had started crying.

“You’re so pretty like this.” When Steve wipes a few fingers over your cheek, that’s the first time that you notice that your skin is wet. “Are you close?”

In an ideal world, you would have been able to answer his question. You would have been able to say “yes, I’m close, so close.” But nothing except incoherent babbling comes out of your mouth as you nonsensically string words together.

“I’ll give you a hand, yeah?” Steve sounds sweet, that’s about all that registers. Your body jumps when his fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing fiercely. “You’re okay,” he says just loud enough over Eddie’s groans. “Come on. Come for us.”

“C-can’t,” you whine. “Ca-can’t.”

“Yeah, you can.” His fingers don’t stop stimulating your swollen bundle of nerves. “One more, baby. Last one.”

“You can do it,” Eddie grunts behind you. “I want you to squeeze me dry, sweetness.”

Despite their encouragement, you’re convinced that you can’t. You came twice already, the most that you’ve ever climaxed in one night, so you’ve already gotten more than you ever could have wished for.

“I-I sw-swear that I- fuck!”

To say that you’re surprised when another orgasm tears through your body would be an understatement. You imagine that this is what it must be like to be struck by lightning. There’s no part of your body that isn’t tingling. You dig your nails into Steve’s shoulders and drag them down his chest all the way to his hips where they come to a standstill.

“Fuck!” Your walls clamp down on Eddie like a vice and he swears loudly as soon as it happens. “You’re fucking- holy shit.”

You barely even notice how tight his grip on your hips is, but come morning there would be an imprint of his ringed fingers on your skin.

Eddie fucks you straight through your orgasm and since Steve seems to be refusing to pull his hand away from your clit, you start screaming through your teeth from the overstimulation. Every muscle in your body jerks, desperately wanting to pull away, but they won’t let you.

There’s no escape from this and your only choice is to ride it out, to let it happen until Eddie finally pumps you full with his cum as well.

The noises that he makes change subtly at first, changing in pitch, his voice getting higher the closer he gets to his release. Eddie shouts your name, one final push, and then you can feel his warm seed filling you up and joining the mess that Steve left a bit earlier.

“Christ,” Eddie’s out of breath which is all down to how much he exerted himself. “Your pussy is fucking perfect.” His softening cock slides out, instantly making you feel empty. A few seconds later, you hear a loud thud. “I could sleep for days.”

“Insane,” you mutter. “You guys are insane.”

“Maybe, but that was hot as fuck,” Eddie replies from somewhere behind you. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“You trying to tell me you didn’t have a great time?” Steve asks and you briefly meet his gaze before looking away again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.” His hand cups your chin, tilting your head back up until you’re forced to look at him again. “You got a mixture of my and Eddie’s cum oozing down your legs. So don’t act all coy.”

“Wasn’t,” you murmur. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say that.”

“There,” he says, satisfied once more. “Feels good now that you’ve admitted it, huh?”

“I was feeling pretty good before,” you admit.

“Really?” You turn your head to look at Eddie who’s sprawled out on the blanket, his head propped up by his arm. “I hadn’t noticed,” he finishes with a smug expression on his face.

“Thought I was hiding it so well, too,” you joke. “Nice to know you’re not just a pretty face, Ed.”

“Shucks, sweetheart, didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Seriously, have you seen you?” You gesture at him with your hand, as if that simple gesture would be enough to explain what words couldn’t. “You’re a handsome devil. Take it from me.”

It had always mystified you how he didn’t have more women fawning all over him, with his big doe eyes, full lips and amazing hair. And you weren’t even talking about his tattoos.

“Same thing goes for you, Steve,” you say to him, even though you don’t think that he needs the validation. With the amount of girls that were throwing themselves at him for a large part of his high school days, he’s probably been told that he’s good looking plenty of times before. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, “I’d much rather look at you though.”

“Charmer.”

“I can’t help it,” he explains. “I see a pretty girl, I need to tell her.”

“Are you giving me the King Steve treatment right now?” You lean in to kiss his cheek suddenly and whisper the following words, “Because you don’t have to, you know.”

“Nah. I wouldn’t dare.” Steve turns his head so he can catch your lips with his. “That was all me.”

“You’re actually making it worse,” you gripe. You nudge at his cheek gently before moving away from him and sitting down next to where Eddie is still spread out on the blanket. You drape your arm over the section of his stomach that’s bare from where his shirt has ridden up. “That’s quite an achievement.”

“I aim to please,” Steve gives you a two-finger Cub Scout salute and a wink which comes across as so cocksure that you can’t help but giggle. He wiggles his eyebrows and adds, “And you definitely look very pleased, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh god, please stop.” Reaching over Eddie, you grab what remains of the six pack and hand Steve a beer, “Here. Now shut up.”

“What about me?” Eddie pushes himself into an upright position and takes the can that you offer him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

A short silence falls over the three of you, nothing to be heard but your breathing and the soft creaking of the house as it seems to come back to life around you. It doesn’t seem as scary to you now as it did in the beginning.

Funny how that changed in a matter of hours.

When you feel Eddie’s hand circle around your ankle, his thumb caressing the back of your heel, you suddenly feel the need to inquire, “Same time, same place next year?”

“Next year?” Eddie sounds nothing short of annoyed that you had even suggested waiting that long. “Fuck that. I want to do that again tomorrow.”

How Eddie can say that when his touch on your leg gets more insistent, his hand already shifting to your calf, making it painfully obvious that he wants to do it again right now is beyond you, but you’re not foolish enough to point it out.

“My parents won’t be home until late November,” Steve helpfully throws in. “So.”

“That’s settled then,” Eddie replies with some finality in his voice, not even waiting for your answer.

They already know your answer after all.

“You guys are going to kill me,” you huff and you try to ignore how Eddie’s hand is slowly moving up past your knee. “Come morning, I’ll be dead,” you say directly to him now, but Eddie simply grins and shrugs.

“Do you mind?” Steve moves in closer next to you and nuzzles your neck. He starts leaving open mouthed kisses all along your jaw and murmurs against your skin, “You can take it. I know you can.”

“I’m not so sure,” you answer, but you still turn your head so you can give him a kiss. You gasp into Steve’s mouth when Eddie’s hand reaches the apex of your thighs. “But I’m willing to give it a go.”

“Attagirl.”

You can’t remember who said that afterwards, but you decide that it doesn’t matter, not when they were gearing you up for another round. Not when there was the prospect of more of this on the horizon whenever you wanted it, but you’d always remember this night, the night when it all started, the Halloween night that changed your life…

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #mar writes

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incorrectsibunaquotes · 4 days

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I wanna preface this by saying Joy went too far in certain aspects of her S2 arc, but the Joy vs Nina situation would have never escalated that much in canon had Nina not been the Chosen One.

Like hear me out: the entire reason Joy was kidnapped in the first place was because she was supposed to be the Chosen One. And honestly, we’re never told for how long she was being told this. It might have been dropped on her only once she was back at home, or they might have told her way before then and she just didn’t give it too much thought before it suddenly became real. We have no real idea. But either way, her isolation from all of the friends she held dear, and the essential imprisonment in her own home was all due to being this supposed Paragon.

And she obviously doesn’t want to be the Chosen One. She says it multiple times in S1, to the point of tears and screaming. Joy is glad when it turns out not to be her, but it’s obvious that she basically went through that entire ordeal, missed a whole year of crucial social development in her actual home (bc lbr she probably spent more time at Anubis growing up than she did her actual house), all for nothing.

And to make matters worse, the actual Chosen One was walking around free as a bird, making friends with all Joy’s friends, and managing to capture Fabian’s affections. So here’s this girl that Joy doesn’t know at all, who has cemented herself in the daily lives and hearts of Anubis House residents, and she happens to hold the role that Joy had been forced to play to her detriment.

That’s what stings most, I think, though Joy says it’s about Fabian. Most of her actual hurt and actual retaliation comes from feeling excluded by Sibuna. “I’ve seen things, remember? Things we don’t talk about because you and your little Scooby gang shut me out.” She is most angry because her isolation never stopped.

Of course, it doesn’t help that she was in love with Fabian, and now the actual Chosen One (who in Joy’s mind has practically gotten everything handed to her) is with him.

I firmly believe that if Nina was just a normal girl and there wasn’t a mystery going on, but she still was dating Fabian, Joy would not have gone so far. It’s not right that she went that far in the first place, of course, but she was justifiably angry at the injustice of her situation. She should have turned that anger on the adults who got it wrong in the first place, but it’s way easier to punch on your level than to punch up at grown adults with power over you. It’s a real shame that Nina got caught in the crossfire of Joy’s war with the world, because they really could have been such good friends.

I made an edit of her that I think gets my point across better than this, that’s too large to post on tumblr so here is the link: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5_a8GhO0Xg/?igsh=MWlncmRsdWJxdHd6NA==

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#I just feel so bad for her and idk if I articulated this super well #house of anubis #joy mercer #Instagram

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yurrfttboyy · 1 year

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My big brother’s best friend Anthony had been around my whole life. He was as straight as my brother, a total gym rat who’s primary interest was video games and puss*. I don’t remember when exactly, but at some point I started stealing whiffs of Anthony and my brothers rank shoes when they would be in the basement playing video games. He would come over at least 3 nights a week and they’d just spend hours down there gaming and talking about chicks, while I’d be nonchalantly finding reasons to walk past the front door so that I could bend over and dive face-first into their shoes.

One day, Anthony came up to use the toilet and I didn’t know. He came around the corner to find me buried in his dirty, obviously rank shoes, but he didn’t say anything. He stopped for a second, looked down at the tent in my shorts and chuckled briefly before continuing back down to the basement, without a single word.

Years later, after my brother moved away to start a new life, Anthony hit me up. He had been struggling to keep a job, as he was rather lazy and didn’t like to work. He knew that I had a successful career, and apparently remembered how much I liked his feet, because he told me in his email that he had a proposition for me. He said that he would make me his foot slave if I agree to give him half of my income.

I was intrigued, and knew that I could afford it, so I offered to meet him. We met at a nice restaurant, i of course agreed to pay for us both, and we discussed it further. He told me that his parents were going to throw him out if he didn’t find a steady income soon, and that he’s had several jobs but couldn’t stand any one of them, and inevitably ended up quitting or getting fired for poor attendance from each one. I understood his situation, and desperately wanted to be his foot slave, so I agreed.

He told me to pay for his meal and then to go buy a small, metal chastity belt to put on. He told me that he was repulsed by the idea of me touching myself while thinking about his feet, so enforced chastity would be a mandatory part of the deal. He told me once I had it locked on and had my first payment that he would come to my house to collect the keys and my payment, and I’d finally get to drag my tongue across his rank soles.

****

That was five years ago, and not a thing has changed. Anthony lied to his family and told them he found a descent job, they all believed it and couldn’t be more proud. I’ve spent the last 5 years supporting him entirely, all while locked in chastity and constantly being fed his grimy foot sweat. We live together in “his” townhouse that I paid for, only I stay in the basement and out of his way unless he needs me to clean his feet or do some other menial chore for him.

I’m licking his feet right now, after a long day of playing basketball with some friends out in the park without socks, when he starts chuckling loudly. “Hey fag, I just had a chat with your brother. He’s coming to town next week, I told him he could stay in the guest room. I can’t wait to catch up, it’s been too long.” He told me, all while luxuriously wiggling his toes in my face. “While he’s here I expect total obedience out of you, don’t forget who and what you are. You will still be responsible for all domestic chores, you will still cook and serve all meals to us BOTH, and you will follow any order that my guest has to give, no matter how humiliating or ridiculous, do you understand me?” He said, moving his foot away for a moment to glare into my eyes. I meekly responded with a “yes sir”

“Good boy. I’ll be testing you while he’s here, and I expect absolutely zero fuck-ups. He’s not your brother anymore, you are a slave and he is your master’s best friend, and you WILL treat him accordingly.” All I could do was keep licking his feet and dread what was to come next week…

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mollysolo · 1 year

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can i pls request a song fic based off of seven by taylor swift with steve harrington x fem!reader?? congrats on 2.7k btw!

I Still Got Love For You

Pairing: Steve Harrington X fem!Reader

Summary: A love filled summer romance with Steve Harrington and its aftermath.

Warnings: Crying, mentions of Steve’s shitty dad + Steve’s trauma, the reader going to college, sadness, a breakup, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2k

a/n: i hope you like this !

My 2.7k follower celebration !

Currently Steve was laying on his bed alone for once because you had to use your last night in town to pack up all of your things. You would be driving up to NYU first thing in the morning. Steve didn’t want you to leave but he also didn’t want to hold you back from your dreams. So he stayed silent on how much your approaching departure had started to hurt him.

You were all he had ever wanted and this love you two had shared seemed to be over before he knew it. And while he laid there, he began to reflect on your romance and picture the happy moments like you had asked him to.

He pictured that one day the two of you went swimming in lovers lake early into the summer.

Steve had climbed up a tree that hung over the lake just ten minutes ago, jumped in and he had somehow convinced you to try it not long after his head popped out of the water. But you were too scared to jump down.

“C’mon, (y/n)! It’s not that far! Hey, what about this? I’ll catch you!” he remembered yelling up at you, which eased some of your worries and moments later you jumped into his ready arms.

“See! I knew you could do it!” he had also said before kissing you for the first time while you two were still in the water.

You looked so beautiful that day and he wished that could live in that memory for the rest of time. That was one of the happiest day’s of his life.

And before he fell asleep that night, he pictured one of the more calm evenings you spent together almost a month and a half ago. You had been drinking iced tea together while cuddling on your porch swing and watching the sunset.

That was when you finally got the courage to tell him you loved him and he had said it back right away. “I think I’ve always loved you.” he had said afterwards, which made heat sprint to your cheeks.

He thought about the way you crossed over each others hearts and promised to not tell anyone about your love for a little while. You wanted to keep your loves to yourselves so that you could indulge each other a bit more.

————————————

The following morning, Steve didn’t come to see you off before you left. And though you expected this after how badly he reacted when you told him a couple weeks ago that you would be leaving for New York soon, you still wished that he would’ve shown up. You wished that you could’ve hugged and kissed him one more time, even though the two of you were now broken up.

But you still loved him with your entire being, even if he wasn’t there to hear you say it anymore.

The way he loved you this summer changed your whole perspective on the world and you would always be grateful for that. But you knew that all good things must come to an end at some point and for your relationship, now was that point.

And you couldn’t help but yearn for him as you drove away, almost considering driving to his his house. But you didn’t want to be late, so you continued on your way to New York.

————————————

It had now been a year since you had left for college and you were now back in town for the summer. And even though you didn’t think of or call Steve that often anymore as a result of your busy schedule, you still had love for him. You always would.

But you even with you back in town, you still didn’t call Steve. You were a little afraid that he’d be furious with you for not keeping in touch with him. When in reality, while he felt sad that the two of you no longer spoke, he was still happy for you and he still had love for you. He always would. That wasn’t something that would go away easily.

The love you shared was meant to last a lifetime, both of you were sure of it although you were still too nervous to speak to one another.

————————————

In the middle of one of the nights during your first week back in town, Steve called you and asked if he could come over. He said he wanted to talk and you said yes. How could you not when he sounded so sad and broken?

He arrived at your front door just fifteen minutes later, not using your bedroom window anymore. He wasn’t a teenager anymore after all and he wanted to seem more mature to you.

You let him in right away and tightly held his hand in yours. Once reaching your bedroom, you let go of his hand so that you could close the door and he hesitantly went over to sit on your bed. It was just as soft as he remembered it to be.

Your room looked a lot more bare than it did when he used to spend many nights here. But he assumed that was because you had taken most of your stuff with you to New York.

You then sat down next to him and took both of his hands in yours, “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked him, a look of concern on your face.

Tears began to well up in his eyes almost immediately, he looked so sad and that broke your heart. “I can’t take it anymore, sweetheart. I hate being so far away from you.” he told you while tears began to fall down his face.

You placed your dominant hand on his shoulder while you responded, “I know, I miss you too and I’m sorry that I didn’t call more or send a letter. I just got too busy. I still love you and I will always be yours, I hope you know that, Stevie.” you told him, making him smile for a second.

He then wrapped his arms around you and swiftly pulled you onto his lap so that he could hold you against his chest. “I still love you too, I never stopped. And I am still yours, I promise.” he replied, causing you to smile as well.

But although you two had resolved your problems and you were together again, his tears didn’t stop. You could practically see the gears in his head turning as he decided whether or not he was going to tell you what was on his mind.

You cupped his face in your hands and tipped his head up so that his eyes were looking into yours, his brown eyes looked so beautiful even as he cried. You pressed a light kiss to his lips before you spoke again.

“What’s on your mind, Steve? You can tell me, I promise. You’re safe here.” you said, encouraging him to get whatever was bothering him off of his chest.

He then buried his face into your shoulder, not having the confidence to look into your eyes while he told you what had been bothering him other than your relationship.

“My parents have been back in town for the past two months now.” he paused to let out a shaky breath, that was the longest they had ever been in town since Steve was 15, “And my dad is constantly on my ass about everything. He keeps telling me that he wishes I went college and became a real man instead of a failure. And whenever he talks to me, all he does is insult me and make me feel worthless. And sometimes I can’t help but believe him. I just don’t know what to do anymore.” he explained to you and you felt as though your heart had broken even more for him.

It didn’t surprise you that his father was still being horrible to him. Whenever you went over to his house last summer, it always seemed as though Steve’s house was haunted by his fathers violence and merciless screams.

You brought him closer to your body and began to rub his back in soothing circles, “First off, Steve I am glad that you felt like you could trust me enough to tell what’s been going on.” you paused to slowly pry Steve’s sad face from your shoulder, you wanted him to look at you while you said this next part, “And second, I need you to know that you don’t deserve to be spoken to that way. I don’t care what your father says or thinks, you are not a failure. You are more of a man than he could ever be. I mean, you’ve literally stepped in and saved my life multiple times. You are not worthless and even though we haven’t talked in a while, you are still my favorite person and you always will be. It’s okay to take things at your own pace, even if your father doesn’t think so.” you assured him, truly meaning every word you said to him.

He nodded once you finished speaking and gave you a tight hug, “Thanks, (y/n). That means a lot, coming from you.” he replied, still tightly hugging you as if his life depended on it.

“Anytime, pretty boy. I’ll always be here for you.” you said, making him chuckle at the sound of that sweet nickname you once had for him, causing you to chuckle with him.

Steve missed the sound of your laugh, it was like a beautiful symphony he wanted to listen to on repeat for the rest of his life. He could feel genuinely happy anytime he heard it and he adored you for that.

And while Steve got lost in the sound of your laugh, you started to think of a solution, when suddenly it hit you, “Steve, I have an idea. You could live here with me for the rest of the summer and in the fall, you could move back to New York with me. And you can even bring Robin along with us if you’d like to, I do have an extra room in my apartment after all. I don’t you want you to ever have to deal with your fathers anger again.” you suggested to him, hoping that he’d want to live with you.

He smiled up at you as these words fell from your lips, the first genuine smile that had appeared on his face since you left, “I’d like that.” he said, still smiling up at you.

“Good.” you replied, staring into his eyes for a moment before he closed the gap in between you two and kissed you. This kiss communicated all the love you felt for each other and how much you had missed one another during your time apart.

Steve pulled away from your lips a few minutes later, a certain set of questions now on his mind, “But what about your parents? Are you sure they’ll be okay with me living here for the summer?” he asked, a nervous tone to his voice.

You could sense his nervousness and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead then spoke again, “Don’t worry about that, Stevie. They adore you as if you were family. I told you, you’re safe here.” you answered, easily making all of Steve’s worries melt away again.

He nodded in response to your comforting words, “We’ll go over to your parents house tomorrow to pack up your things. But for now, I just want to cuddle with you and make up for all of that lost time.” you said, prompting Steve to scoop you into his arms and lay down with you on your bed.

And once the two of you were comfortable, you turned to face him and placed your hand on his cheek, “I love you, Steve.” you told him, a soft smile on your face.

He smiled back at you, “I love you even more.” he replied while he peppered kisses all over your face, making your smile even brighter than it was before.

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My 2.7k follower celebration!

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