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#i’m stoned and mad leave me alone
chixkencxrry · 10 months
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crazy, crazy for loving you
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Summary: Loss can make people go insane. (Yandere! Miguel O’hara x Yandere! Fem! Reader)
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MINORS DNI
Warning: They’re both insane and a bit immoral. They are both very, very unstable people. This is a dark story of mutual obsession. (Mutual Non-Con Voyuerism, Mutual Masturbation, P in V, Swearwords, Mutual Stalking, Mutual Non-Con Spying, Oral (F receiving), Dark themes, Cockwarming) YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU AND YOU ALONE!
When you see him, it's hard to keep your hands at your side and not run to him. It’s hard not to look at the man that wears your dead husband’s face and not weep like a baby. But you know it isn’t him. No, this man with the war in his eyes and fangs of a beast is not your Miguel.
But, God – God, did you wish it was. 
So, yes, you were quick to agree to be apart of his little operation. Quick clipping the gizmo onto your wrist. The Spiderman logo spread along your torso like some awful red target. He knew your name, but it was obvious that you didn’t exist in his world. If you had, you were sure they would have been together. No. The you of his world was dead, like the him of your world. It was darkly poetic. 
Lyla had taken a liking to you – his AI. She unintentionally helped you keep track of him; you didn’t stalk just keep track. 
Then it happened. The fine click that had truly sent your observing of Miguel corrupt into something else, something darker. 
Something had caused the collapse of your world. It was a war, much like the great Titan on EARTH-199999. Your world crumbled before you; you already didn’t have much left after the death of your Miguel but now you had nothing left. 
When the collapse of it came, you were not on the battlefield with the other Avengers. You had been in the cemetery, fingers clawing into Miguel’s grave – determined to bury yourself in there with him. The cold mud coated your hands and body, knee digging in. You were about two feet deep, mad with intent. 
“Y/N?”
The word stilled you. It was Miguel, you turned your head in a horrible hopefulness. Disappointment settled on your shoulders, in some half-mad frenzy, you’d thought it was your Miguel. But it wasn’t it was Miguel.
“Leave me alone.” you growled. “My world is dying.”
“You don’t have to.”
I died when you did.
“I’m right here, Y/N.”
“No.” you muttered, fingers in the dirt. “You’re below. I’m getting you out.”
A warm body dropped down, covering your back and pushing you forward. You wiggled and fought but felt a pinch at the side of your neck. Your mania subsided, a false peace overwhelming you. Before you knew it, you collapsed in the mud. 
It had taken weeks of manic behaviour. They had to sedate you to get you to calm down – barricade and and chain you to stop you from attacking. You’d gone mad. 
When Miguel came to visit you, you’d taken a turn for the better. 
“I heard you broke Spiderman 8077’s jaw.” Miguel doesn’t seem amused. He stands over you – through the fizzing cage that electrocutes you everytime you touch it. You can’t bring yourself to snarl or fight. You look at him – flesh, bone, hope. 
“He tried to make me forget.”
Miguel flinched. “He suggested something to help you sleep.”
“If I sleep, I forget him.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Miguel’s tone was soft and low. You closed your eyes and imagined being home in your apartment, the record player on and rain falling. Miguel dancing with you, dipping you low and laughing on your skin. 
The daydream dissolves when you hear the click of your cell open. His voice of stone ordered; “Lay down.”
Instinct, really – the way you move to the cot and wiggle until your back hits the wall. The bed shakes as Miguel’s massive frame sets itself on the bed. He held you, pulling you close. He smelt like your Miguel. Felt like him too. But were all rugged edges compared to the softness of the man you were married to. Your fingers threaded in his hair, snagging a few by accident to bring them to your nose. You tucked some strands into your suit. For later.
For the first time in years, sleep came to you with ease. With that ease came the confirmation of what a gift reuniting with this different Miguel was. You had a second chance. Now, it was time to make use of it. Properly.
***
Miguel had started watching you when your world collapsed and you’d transition to his universe. Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been stalking – following – shit – observing you before. He’d just wanted you to get used to the Universe first. Ensuring you had a good identity, a day job and income. 
You’d been grateful. So, very grateful.
He imagined that gratitude as something baser, raw and trembling. But he knew not to test the hand of fate. Yet he hungered for you. The devotion you’d shown to your husband, a version of him, was indescribably delicious. He wanted that for himself. Wanted you, all tears, all love. Each aspect of you a memorising thing; greed flooded him at the thought of claiming you.
It seemed like fate to offer you the guest room of his apartment. He hadn’t used it in years, and it was a waste not to let you in. You’d jumped at the opportunity – a perfect gift. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. Yes. Having you in his house, showering, eating, naked, open – mierda!
 He took a deep breath to cool himself down. You were still at the dorm quarters of HQ, significantly more sane than you were a week ago when the two of you first slept together. Your scent still lingered in his mind. Lilies and cucumbers, fresh and vibrant. Thick and rich, god – he wanted more of that. More of the security of holding you. More of having you have him. The feel of your body curled into his, the softness of your silk skin breaking the delicate thread of his self-control. 
Miguel looked at the room he’d allotted to you. Climbing to a corner to screw in a non-reflective camera. Getting you here was the first step and he was a patient man. Miguel had to make sure the apartment looked lived in. Making sure that some floorboards creaked, chipped at some paint on the walls, and ensured there was a leaky faucet in the guest bath.
His watch dinged. Fifteen minutes away. 
Lyla flickered into existence. “Wow. This violates so many laws.”
“Didn’t ask.” he grumbled, wrenching open a panel of the wall to place a listening device.
“You get that for free.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Anamolly on Earth-7834, they need backup.”
“There are thousands of other Spiders to call.” He placed a nail between his teeth, hammering the panel back on.
“Yeah, well, Y’N asked for you.”
That made him pause. Swearing, he hurriedly put the panel back and suited up, tapping his gizmo and falling into a different dimension. 
***
You only felt a little bad for deceiving Lyla. 
Sure, Miguel would probably be pissed when he found out that you had lied and made his AI lie to him with some clever coding but it would be worth it in the end when the two of you were finally together. You just couldn’t get out of HQ unnoticed without some sort of distraction. So, you figured what could be better than calling in a favour with a friend you’d made while traversing Universes? Felicia was more than willing to play the part, ever wanton for chaos. 
She helped you cause a minor anomaly which sent off enough of the Spiders off and allowed you to sneak into Miguel’s apartment. You looked for the master – the only room with a photo in it, one of him and his passed daughter. It broke your heart to know the pain he’d experienced. But you knew you were here now and more than willing to provide comfort and a new child. You’d even let him name the first one. 
You weren’t here for that. You were here to plant a few presents. Sticking to his bedroom ceiling, you planted a camera in the corner, near his closet. In his bathroom, by his shower and mirror – you planted another one. 
Time was limited. You knew the false alarm would only give you a short time. Before you left, you went through his closet, nose dug into his clothing and inhaling his scent. Sandalwood and oud. God, the earthiness sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to control yourself, you snatched a T-shirt and left through the window. You have five minutes left until your proposed arrival. Five minutes until Miguel consensually lets you into his home. 
Foolish boy.
If only he knew what you had in store for him. 
***
Miguel hurriedly returned home. Frustration laced his sojourn, as he tried to figure out just how Lyla had mistaken you calling out the anomaly of you being there and requesting his help. It was probably some bug. A minor thing he would fix after he greeted you. 
One minute left.
He was cutting it close, climbing through his window and showering as fast as possible. He hadn’t even had time to dry himself off when the doorbell rang, pulling clothes on with wet skin. 
“She’s here!” chimed Lyla, a little too cheerfully.
Miguel rolled his eyes. “No soy sordo, Lyla.”
When he opened the door, you were standing there with just two bags and a smile on your full lips. Eyes fluttering up at him with thick lashes and a soft look; “Hey.”
“Come in,” he welcomed without preamble. Miguel purposefully kept the space for you to pass narrowly. You were shorter than him and plush as you passed, buttocks jamming him slightly as you turned your back to pass in. Your toes shoved behind your feet to slip out of your shoes without him asking, he forgot for a moment that you knew him, even if it was another version. There were parts of himself you probably knew better than anyone did.
That made him excited. 
“Your apartment is lovely.” You said earnestly. “Where do I put my bags?”
He moved to you, taking the bags and walking ahead to lead you to the guest room. It wasn’t bad. A queen-sized bed and all other necessities for a room. Miguel gestured to the opened door, “That’s the bathroom.Might give you some trouble but you’re welcome to use me – I mean mine anytime.”
You didn’t seem to catch him fumbling – ayúdame dios – walking around the room to get a better view. In the dim light, you looked fantastic, the neon of the outside shining on your skin and the expanse of your perfect skin exposed in those tiny shorts you wore. 
Jealously bloomed in his chest. Had you fucking worn those on your walk here? How many people saw you? How many men had seen you in this way? Feral rage gripped him. Miguel set your bags down in the doorway, stepping back before he did something violent. 
“You eat yet?” the question came out as a snappish growl which seemed to startle you. He cringed. He didn’t want you to fear him – he just wanted you to know your place as his. 
Your brows furrowed. “You good, Miguel?”
“I’m dandy, princesa.”
A delicious blush bloomed on your skin. The honey was not enough to stop it from beaming forward. He wanted to drag his tongue down – to see how far this blush went. “I-I haven’t eaten yet.”
He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I’ve got some food in the kitchen. Eat with me?”
“Sure.”
Dinner went by slowly. Not in an awkward manner but it was agonising all the same. Agonsing to watch you sit across from him, agonising not to touch you, agonising not bit into your flesh and claw into your pussy with his hard cock. 
His patience wore thin but he maintained. 
The two of you had drinks afterwards, sitting on the couch until it grew too late. You yawned, hands stretching to the ceiling and pointed breasts jotting out through the cotton of your tank top. Your hoodie was abandoned somewhere. He eyed the pleasant curves of your body, the grooves that came from you being Spider-Woman and the softness that came from your natural figure.
“I’m gonna take that shower.” You announced. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Miguel…I really appreciate it.”
Could you appreciate it with your mouth around his cock? “Of course. Anything for you. Y/N.”
You smiled prettily scampering off into your room. Miguel wasted no time in heading to his own, pulling up a camera feed from your bathroom. He sighed, watching you undress. You were humming along to something, hips shaking and hands running down your body. 
He raised his hips, shoving his sweatpants down. His half-hard length plopping out. Fingers encircled the base, rubbing up and down as he watched you move. 
You stepped into the shower and he switched the cameras. You sodded your body up, perfect nipples hard and hand slipping between your thighs. You rubbed yourself frantically. Rolling your nipple under your palms as you humped your fingers. 
Miguel turned the volume up, his own cock coated in his special essence as he watched you. His hand became frenzied, tighter as it took him closer to an orgasm. His peak came as your voice sounded the last thing he expected to hear. 
His own name. 
“Meirda…Y/N…you want me too, baby?” He coated himself, groaning as you slumped on the video. You shook off your climax and finished showering, stepping out with a glow. He restarted the video, turning the volume louder – thankful for his soundproof room. 
The knowledge that this wasn’t one-sided set something off in him. He threw his head, stroking himself from top to bottom. Desire coiled in his belly, like a snake ready to pounce.
Who was he to deny your wants, princesa?
***
Your fingers rapped on Miguel’s door somewhere close to midnight. You’d timed it perfectly. Your fearless leader hardly slept anyway so you were sure you wouldn’t be intruding. After all, you were sick? Weren’t you? The pills weren’t working, you needed to sleep. You hadn’t slept properly since that night. Lies concocted to make it all work. You just had to maintain your facade of innocence. 
You smiled, thinking of Miguel’s little performance for you on your camera. You’d seen him stroke himself over and over at some random video feed. You saw his thick seed spurt out. Saw the girth of his length twitch to life. Fuck. You wanted that. 
“Y/N?” Miguel’s voice was hoarse with sleep. You softened your face and frowned. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry…I just couldn’t sleep and you’d helped me that night…”
Ever generous, he opened his door wider to let you in. He’d changed form his earlier sweatpants. No doubt it was covered in his own spunk. A shame, really. “Of course, come inside. I’ll get another blanket for you.”
“Oh no.” You showed him the lilac blanket you’d brought with you from HQ. “I have my own.”
“Hmm.” He led you to the bed and slipped behind you to spoon you as easily as he had that night. You hummed, wiggling against him. You made sure to throw your blanket on both of you. You heard Miguel groan behind you, his body shifting and arms holding you close.
The synthetic material was interwoven with your pheromones, wired to set Miguel off. That night he had slept with you, you had plucked hair enough to get his DNA to pattern it so that it made him rut like a beast in heat. It was a chance you were taking. It would only work if Miguel wanted you too – if only a little You grinned, smiling as your payment boiled up. Miguel would be yours, it was what was best. 
Even if he didn’t know it yet.
Hours passed. You laid awake listening to him torture himself. Your patience grew thin. Why didn’t the idiot just hold you down and fuck you yet? “Miguel?” You whispered. “Everything alright?”
He murmured in Spanish, nothing clear enough for you to even hear. His hand, large and spanning, set itself on your hip. 
You ground your ass into his crouch. “Miguel?”
“Cállate princesa,” he growled in a tone that made your toes curl. An excited smile spread across your face. “I need to take a walk.”
That made your smile drop. “Now? It’s so late.”
He didn’t say anything, his weight lifting from the bed as he went to hurriedly dress. His back turned to you as he tried to be modest. Your eyes dropped to his round ass. Was he really going to go out and fuck some bitch after you did all the work? Not on your watch. 
“Miguel,” you dropped your tone, low and purring. “Come back to bed.”
He turned his head, eyes red as they flickered over you. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Was he afraid of losing control? How adorable. You sat up, letting the blanket fall from you, the muscle shirt that was three sizes too big fell off your arm exposing an entire breast to him. You were being desperate but you’d be damned if he wasn’t going to rearrange your guts tonight.
He paused, staring at you. You almost grinned. That seemed to do it. 
He dropped the t-shirt he held and crawled over to you, pressing his forward to your as he inhaled your scent. “Tell me this is real.”
Oh.
You desperate thing. How I will devour you, How I will keep you. “It's real. I need you, Mig. I want you.”
His lips slammed onto yours. Tongue piercing the seam of your lips to kiss you fully. His hands pawed at your body, grabbing and groping at everything. Your sleep shirt was ripped in half as he claimed total access to your body. Your hands touched him everywhere, settling on the hump of his buttocks, pulling it close to your hips. You rubbed your bare crouch against his sweat, humping him with blind need. 
Miguel pushed you back, your head hitting a pillow as you watched him take his cock out. The fat, beautiful thing you’d been dreaming about riding since you met him. There wasn’t anytime for preamble – you wouldn’t suck the beautiful thing just yet. 
He stroked himself for a moment, red eyes boring into you as he lowered his face between your legs. Miguel ate you sloppily. Lips smacking and tongue licking, he sucked your swollen clit, pressing his index in and out of your weeping pussy. 
You gripped his head, arching your back as your thrust your hips up, truth spilled from you: “Eat me so good, Miguel. Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted this.”
He was too busy enjoying his meal to respond. The lewd noises making you tremble as much as the act. Miguel’s fangs brushed against your folds, before he fucked your pussy with his tongue, pressing his dampened fingers to rub your clit as he licked your insides. 
Clenching around his head, your mouth spewed all manner of dark desires, the height of your arousal squirting all along his face. Words failed you as he continued to worship your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 
He raised his head for a moment. His left hand cupped your tit for him to suck while his other fingered you to your second orgasm. Thumb rubbing your clit in precise circles as he bit and sucked your areola. Faster than the first, you mewled your orgasm out on his fingers. Miguel let your nipple fall, watching you as he sucked his fingers dry. He sat on his hunches, leaning back as you writhed, quivering pussy begging for more. Begging for his cock. 
“You look pretty like this princesa, pretty falling apart in my bed for me. You want me to fuck you now? Want me to spread this pussy wide? Want me to make you fucking bawl? Beg for it, baby.” His face read of cruelty while his lips purred to you. You watched helpless as Miguel looked down on you. One of his hands stretched forward to your wanting hole and slapped it. You whimpered. He grinned and slapped it again. 
“I want you to know something before I fuck you,” he whispered, leaning forward, mushroom tip brushing along the seam of your slit. “You’re mine, princesa. You’re my puta. My perra, zorra. Mi amor. Mi todo. And I’m greedy, so when I fuck you – know that it's all over. I become your world and you become mine.”
You bit your lip. The words fell like poetry in your haze: you were truly made for each other. Did he even know how perfect he was for you?
“Ye…s.” You croaked out. “Yes, Miguel.”
His hips snapped, bottoming out into you so hard you screamed against his laughter.
***
Was this heaven?
Miguel had long since thought he was banned from such a place. Long since thought salvation was removed from him. But right now, while he held your waist and fucked his cock into you – he knew he had found it. You looked divine. Your mouth agape and hands rubbing all over him. Your breasts, bounced and full as he made his mark in you. He wanted every groove of his cock known by your pussy. His cock was to be imprinted, moulded into you. You were to know no other but his by the time he was done fucking the common sense out of you.
“My pretty cock dumb, princesa.”
You hummed, heels digging to his ass as his hips snapped. You squeezed him tight but he knew he was leaving marks on your body as he fucked you into his mattress. “Gonna keep you on my cock every day. You'd like that wouldn’t you, perra?”
“Love t-that.” Nails scrapped his back. “G-Gonna cum.”
He could feel that in the tightening of your pretty cunt. The slimy stickiness of your desire echoed in the room, he pinched your nipple making you cry out. “I know, princesa. Do that for me. Cum on my cock.”
Miguel felt your climax, wet and whimpering. You cried beneath him, overstimulated as he fucked you. He fondled your breast once more, hand going between the two of you. He rubbed your sensitive clitoris, smirking as you moaned from the ache. “Good girl. So pretty crying like that. Think you can go again?”
You shock your head, tears forming in your eyes. He felt his balls grow tight but kept at your clit. You shuddered at another shockwave. Finally, he thought leaning forward to cover you until your breasts smashed against his chest. His own release came, loosening the taut feeling that had centred his whole body. Miguel’s hips jerked, making sure his seed took its rightful place in you. 
When he tried to roll off, you kept him on. He looked at you questioning.“Don’t want any to drip out just yet.”
“No chance of that,” he muttered, kissing your neck. His hips jerked, as he found himself in a slow rhythm. “I’m not nearly done with this pussy yet.”
***
“I don’t think I’ve ever visited this universe.” you pointed out at one of the monitors. It was an Earth without a Spider-persona filled with cannibals. 
 Miguel looked to your side and grimaced. “Fuck no.”
You rolled your eyes. “What’s the sense of me being here if not to go to unknown places?”
Miguel huffed, hand sneaking under the skirt of your dress. “Princesa, you came here because you saw me talking to a female Spider-persona and then insisted on warming my cock for the rest of the afternoon.”
“So?” You waved your hand. He was lucky you didn’t her to that universe. Perky little bitch was looking a little too googly-eyed at him. “Maybe I was bored. You ever thought of that?”
“You can always go back out on the field.” He suggested.
You snorted, rolling your hips to make him hiss. His cock twitched, surrounded by your leaking cunt. “The last time I went on a mission I thought you were going to kill my poor partner.”
“He was being a little too friendly.” 
“Honey,” Miguel’s hand slipped inside the front of your dress, popping out your full breasts as he slowly rocked up into you. “Peter from Earth-997845 is very much engaged to Johnny Storm.” You wouldn’t mind going out again but you were so comfortable living simply with Miguel and helping him manage HQ. Who was he even talking to? He hadn’t gone on a mission for the months you two had started seeing each other either.
“You’re a hyp–” he stood up, making you bend over the desk, your breasts hitting the cool metal, he pressed the side of your face down as he slowly plunged in and out of you. “–ocrite.”
“Me?” He grunted, hands going up and down your sides as he took his time dragging his cock. “You’re the one who assaulted me in my office just so you could fill it up with your scent. You don’t think I know your tricks, zorra?”
You grinned, working your hips to meet him. “You better make me squirt a few times – just to make sure the scent takes then.”
Miguel chuckled above you, his talons ripping open your dress as he made good on your challenge. 
MASTERLIST
I'll probably make this a reoccurring thing. Hope you guys liked part 1. Reblogs and comments are nice.
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iceandpeaches · 1 month
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hopeless romantic; luke castellan
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pairing: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite!reader
warnings: not proofread, lowercase intended, y/n is a bit of a bitch.. sorry..
summary: a daughter of aphrodite hating love, but with reason
a/n: aphrodite daughter with a twist because i’m lowkey sick of soft hearted aphrodite daughter. do lmk if this requires a part 2 and i might make it happen!! reblogs & reposted appreciated^^
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as a daughter of aphrodite, you were born to love. you’d always known that. but somehow, it seemed harder than you thought. you dreaded leaving your cabin everyday with all the couples that roamed the camp’s grounds, with your sister and her boyfriend being one of the pairs you hated seeing around. you resented her almost. that’s what made you the most hostile aphrodite camper, the inability to find love for yourself.
you thought it was due to you being unlovable or something you did, or that your love was too much for others around to reciprocate. so all your camp crushes stayed crushes, watching from a distance as they found love for themselves. you’d be locked up in your cabin for days on end when this happened. you were sick of it.
for every interaction you witnessed, another pot in your porcelain heart shattered to pieces. why did others get something you couldn’t? why couldn’t you love like others? you should be an expert at this, right? you’re aphrodite’s daughter, after all.
some days you were sat by the river, you threw stones at the water trying to make them skip across only for the water nymphs to get mad at you for even having the idea to throw rocks into the water body. you grunted, getting up and throwing your last rock into the lake before storming off. some days you’d be in the fields hand picking strawberries. while you picked strawberries, couples littered the fields. were you a curse or something? you threw your basket to the ground, bumping into camp counsellor luke castellan.
“watch where you’re going, idiot!”
you yelled, your arms crossed as you continued to stomp away. luke watched as you stormed off, clueless as to whether to follow you or not. he did anyway. you sat by the lake again, grabbing a stone or two in your hands. you heard footsteps approach you in the gravel, your hand ready to whip out your dagger.
“woah.. easy there. i’m just here to check up on you.”
“i’d be the last person you’d want to check up on.”
“why not?”
“you don’t understand. i’m annoyed by it. and i hate being aphrodite’s daughter.”
oh. luke would’ve empathised with you, but still wanted to know why you were so bitter and angry about being the goddess of love’s daughter. he had only heard good things about it but was it really that bad?
“why do you hate it so much?”
“it’s stupid. my mother’s all about love and all that crap. my siblings are excellent match makers, pretty with nice hair or whatever they say about us. they expect us all to be the same. i’m the opposite and it pisses me off.”
luke frowned, if only you knew how he saw you. in the instances he’d seen you around, you seemed like a comfortable person to be around though you spent most of your time in solitude. the ability to be comfortable within your own skin was something he admired about you.
he admired you from a distance, while you glared and snapped at every camper who stepped in your way. something about that was, attractive. but what was he to say? he’d barely seen you around these days. but somehow, a part of him felt like he could see right through you; seeing himself in you.
“and don’t even get me started on valentine’s day. i hate that holiday. it’s so stupid about love and shit when you can’t even find love for yourself.”
luke sat by you, throwing a stone into the lake watching it skip. you sigh, throwing one after he did. you enjoyed the company, but you desperately needed and wanted to be alone.
“but, wouldn’t aphrodite b–”
“i’ve tried my all, luke. i’m hopeless. so it would be best if you left me alone.”
you had expected for him to leave you be, but he stayed and turned to you with a smile on his lips.
“be my valentine this year. it’s around the corner anyway, isn’t it?”
uh… what? you had just explained to him how much you hated the holiday.. is he crazy? you shook your head, throwing another stone into the lake. you watched it skip, skip… skip. almost being your record.
“no way in tartarus luke.”
“if i beat you at stone skipping?”
you thought long and hard, your upper lip mashed onto your bottom one. you sigh, nodding in approval.
“fine. but best of three.”
you knew the water nymphs would be furious, but you had already accepted the challenge. the stones skipped, the furthest it had gone was about 15 skips. with all the time you spent here you were good at it, but not as good as you thought with luke beating you by one skip. by the time you each threw three stones, luke had won. ugh, stupid golden boy.
“woohoo! you’re my valentine's date now.”
you sigh. yeah i guess. you weren’t the most keen about it, but at least you wouldn’t have to go through your siblings berating you with questions. you’re aphrodite’s daughter after all.
when valentine's day rolled around, you were busy helping out with decorating booths with your siblings. you usually didn’t help out with this, but something in your heart changed. you sort of disliked it, but you were certain that it was luke’s positive energy rubbing off you. from the time you both sat by the lake, you had spent ample time together.
for the first time in ages, you smiled, you laughed till your stomach hurt, you were even having fun in places you resided in solitude. your siblings were stunned to say the least, but it was good enough for them to see you shine after so much time spent in the darkness of your own wrath.
baby cupids flew around camp, clutching bows and arrows to shoot at potential love matches. your siblings dressed up as them, shooting suction cup arrows at people for fun. you were set to manage a booth alongside silena, which gave you the opportunity to slack off a little due to her talkativeness. you felt a hand pat your shoulder, turning to it and a smile creeping on your lips.
“happy valentine’s, smiley.”
luke’s lips curled into a smile seeing you smile, messing your hair up then watched as you laughed. the sound of your laughter made his heart flutter, he couldn’t comprehend how you’d be so grumpy for years with a laugh like that. a laugh that was so loveable.
“happy valentine’s, luke.”
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somanyratsinthewalls · 3 months
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Hyacinth + lemon ice :)
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Mihawk is so dreamy I'd forgive him too tbh. Reader gets mad at her mysterious boyfriend for leaving and he *somehow* convinces her to forgive him... wink wonk
Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Female Reader
WC: 2000
Prompt: “You know I’m sorry…” 
— —
You push through the doors to the lavish dining room wearing a ruby colored dressing gown and dramatically fling yourself into a chair at the end of the massively long dining table. You groan. Head in your hands, you were distraught. 
Your lover had left you almost 2 weeks ago. Not permanently of course… or so you assumed. Nearly 2 weeks ago Mihawk left the safety of your remote castle on some sort of business he promised would only take a day or two. And yet? Here you were. Alone. 
You were want for nothing, the castle was always filled with any amenities or food you might need, but you couldn’t help but long for a warm body next to you in bed and the firm touch of your warlord lover. Although you tried to push it aside, but you also worried for his safety. There was always an aspect of danger when he left even though he was beyond competent in both combat and negotiations, but you always tried to ignore it. 
He would always tell you, “There’s no use in worrying my dear. I’d slaughter every being on the seas if it was stopping me from coming home to you. Now get that thought out of your head.” 
And although he would tell you time and time again not to worry, you couldn’t help it. Why would he still be gone? You ran through hundreds of make-believe scenarios where Mihawk suffered a horrific death or is still enduring immeasurable horrors at the hands of some monster or maybe even-
“HELLOOO! You look like you need a drink bitch.” 
Suddenly, your biggest headache and current housemate materialized through the wall and laid out on the table in front of you. She mimics your position with her head in her hands and taunts you. 
“So your weird sword daddy hasn’t come back yet. He always shows up eventually, and you always forgive him like you weren’t wailing around these halls like a victorian widow for days beforehand. He’ll turn up and he’ll rip your clothes off faster than you can even tell him you’re mad. Come on, lighten up you old broad! Have a drink with me!” 
Perona suddenly has two ghosts bringing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses up from behind her and on to the table in between the two of you. You pick up your head and make a face. 
“I wish you’d stop calling me that, I’m only 5 years older than you.” You huff out. You roll your eyes but you grab the glass in front of you and gesture to one of Perona’s summoned ghosts for it to pour you a glass of whiskey. 
“Yeah but you’re the one stalking around a castle alone with your cats in floor length robes. You’re like, mentally, ancient.” 
“I take offense to that. So what? I like gothic architecture and solitude, is that a crime?” You take a heavy gulp of alcohol and grimace. 
“Okay, whatever. You’re the one fucking a vampire.” Perona takes her drink and chuckles. 
You motion for another drink. 
“He isn’t a vampire, Perona.” You take your drink and lean back in your chair. “He just likes hats.” 
You both make eye contact, Perona furrows her brow at you. You burst out in laughter, with Perona quickly to follow. 
— —
You wake up the next morning to the sunlight streaming through the lace curtains of your luxurious master bedroom. Your eyelids flutter open and you stretch and turn over to face the opposite side of the bed. Undisturbed. He still wasn’t home. You shoot up in bed. The whiskey Perona insisted you drink had helped you drift off to sleep without the worries about the fate of your lover. But now it was morning and he still wasn’t home. You groan and fall back into your bed. 
Where the hell was he? He had never been this late before… Was this finally the time he never comes back?
*whooooosh* *thump*
You hear the massive stone double doors to the castle open and close. You practically jump out of bed.
You toss the covers off your naked form and you go to your dressing curtain to put on a long emerald green robe with dyed feathers on the edges of the sleeves and the bottom. You didn’t even bother putting on slippers as you tear your way out of the master bedroom and down the hallways to the main staircase. You halt yourself at the top of the staircase and look down at the entrance to the castle. 
There stood your lover, Mihawk, looking a bit worse for wear, but all together fine. Once your brain registered that he was alive and well, the anger returned. 
“DRACULE MIHAWK…” 
You bellow from the top of the stairs. You swiftly begin to descend the staircase, your bare feet gliding across the stone. “Fourteen days? Not a call? Nothing?” Your robe flies behind you as you slink down the stairs towards Mihawk, not giving him a moment to reply. “I was convinced your smart mouth had finally done you in! You say you’ll be gone for a night and you show up at my door 2 weeks later? You could have called me you-“ Tears are streaming down your face. You finally reach Mihawk and throw your fists up to try to hit his shoulders.
Mihawk grabs your wrists before you could strike. He was tired, but you were distraught, you were no match for him. 
“My love… I am so sorry… Oh, how I’ve missed you…” Mihawk brings your wrists back down to your sides and embraces you fully. You pull back. “No! You can’t keep doing this!” You take several steps backwards once he releases you. “All I do is worry! You leave me here alone and don’t tell me where you are! I’m tired of this! I won’t do it! I love you, Mihawk!” You cry out and drop to your knees, overcome with emotion. 
Mihawk immediately drops to his knees in front of you, trying to stay on your level. He grabs the sides of your face with his hands. 
“I know, my love, I know. Something came up and I couldn’t find a way to tell you. Please forgive me, darling.” Mihawk tilts your face up to meet his above you. “You know I’m sorry…” 
As Perona predicted, you folded. 
He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss. 
Mihawk swiftly swoops you up under your ass and carries you all the way to your shared bedroom, away from any unwanted voyeurs. He throws you back onto the bed with a gentle thud. 
“You may not believe me now, love, but I promise I won’t leave you worrying again…” Mihawk whispered into your calf as he kissed up your leg towards your aching center. He had already discarded his hat and jacket, making quick work of his pants with the other hand. Once shed of his clothing, he pulls your robe apart and settles his body between your legs and spreads them forcefully with his rough palms. 
“Mihawk I just got up, I haven’t bathed or-“ You grab his hair to pull him back, he shakes your grip off. 
“Let me enjoy you, my precious girl, you know I like it better this way anyway.” He smirks and begins kissing and biting your inner things. You sigh and relax into the sensation of finally having his touch on you again. After teasing for a few minutes, Mihawk finally reaches your now soaking center and dives in with his skilled tongue. You moan loudly as he sucks and slurps at your clit lewdly, driving you mad. He pulls away to watch your face as he slips two fingers into your clenching hole. 
“You taste so sweet, love, as always.” You whimper at his praises and the feeling of his fingers working your insides. He returns to your clit with his mouth and you feel yourself quickly being brought to the precipice of pleasure. You arch your back and bring your hands to your breasts to pinch your nipples, pushing you into the throws of a powerful orgasm. You cry out loudly in pure bliss. 
Your handsome lover pulls his face from between your legs and peppers your stomach and the valley of your breasts with wet kisses as he moves up your body. Your chest heaves as you are truly at Mihawk’s mercy. You were soft and pliant under his addictive touch. He whispers into your neck as he begins pushing his hardened member into your tight entrance. 
“Let me show you how much I missed you, let me make love to you.” You moan as he bottoms out inside of you and throw up your hands to tangle them in his dark hair. He pulls back and presses his mouth onto yours in a passionate kiss as he deeply grinds his hips into yours. He uses his hands to push your knees further back and spread towards your shoulders and you gasp into his mouth at the new angle at which he was able to penetrate you. 
“Shit, there!” You cry out. You felt your muscles start to tighten and that familiar warmth was building in your abdomen again. You slam your eyes shut and turn your head to try to bury your face in the pillow, but failing since you were on your back. 
“Already darling? I’m not done yet, you’re going to have to hold it.” Mihawk pulls back to get a better look at your fucked out expression. 
“I-I-, shit! I can’t!” You moan as he continues to deeply thrust into you. 
“No cumming. Not until I say.” Mihawk uses one of his hands to grip your cheeks and force you to look up at him. You were so caught up in trying to hold back your orgasm you couldn’t form words anymore, only whimpers and grunts. 
“Hold it a bit longer, my love, I know you can do it. You’re going to cum when I fill you. I promise it will feel so good.” Your lover picks up his pace and you could tell he was getting closer to his own peak by his ragged breathing. 
“Mi-hawwwkk! Please! Need to cum! Can’t hold it!” Tears started spilling from your lash line and down your cheeks. 
“Cum now.” He says sternly as he applies firm pressure on your clit with his hand. 
“Ah!” You scream out loudly as your sticky release spurts out around Mihawk’s cock that was deep inside of you. Your twitching walls trigger Mihawk’s orgasm and he lurches forward and spills his hot seed, coating your walls that were milking his cock so deliciously. 
Your lover pulls out of you and lays next to you on the silk sheets. He pulls you into his broad chest and you cuddle into him with a heavy exhale. 
“So, are you still upset with me?” Mihawk finally asks, stroking the back of your head. 
“Yes, but significantly less so.” You nuzzle your nose into his skin. 
“I promise I’ll call next time, alright love? I hate having you worry.” 
“You better, or next time I won’t forgive you as easily.” You retort. 
Mihawk smiles. 
“I’m not so certain about that.”
— — 
xx Mo
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bleedingoptimism · 1 year
Text
part five: Eddie
Eddie has always been impulsive. Most of his tattoos were impulsive, starting a band was impulsive, flirting with Steve was impulsive, introducing him to his friends was impulsive, and kissing Pricilla was impulsive…
But falling in love with Steve? That was slow, tortuous, against every impulse on his body, and impossible to resist.
But again, Eddie has always been stubborn too, he gets an idea in his mind, and suddenly it cements in stone there, unmovable, unbreakable. And the idea of Steve liking him back was so preposterous he had never even thought about it.
He is impulsive and stubborn and he acts without thinking about the consequences because he thinks he is inconsequential, he thinks there won't be repercussions to his actions because no one cares about him.
He’s wrong, he knows that now. He’s been working on it.
He apologized to Lucas for making him feel left out just for liking sports, to Dustin for leaving him alone and scaring the shit out of him, and to his uncle for not going to him for help. 
And Steve had been the one who, during their heartfelt chats late at night, had helped him see how important he was, how the things he did mattered.
Which made the fact that his latest impulsive mistake had hurt him of all people so much worst.
So Eddie is impulsive and stubborn and when he gets an idea in his head is hard to make him change his mind. And when he wants to do something, he needs to do it now.
This is why, after Gareth, Frank, and Jeff came to talk to him and told him Steve thinks Eddie doesn't care about him and that he needs to fix that, he standing here outside Steve’s home at 11:10 at night throwing pebbles at his window.
Even though Jeff told him it could wait until tomorrow, that he waited this long already, and that Steve was probably sleeping.
But Eddie made a mistake and he knows how to fix it now so he needs to fix it now.
At 11.11 Steve opens his window and glares at him, then sighs and drops his chin on his chest and takes a deep breath, like he’s praying for patience, and it's something he’s so used to Steve doing when Eddie says or does something dumb, it makes him smile. 
Steve moves from the window and Eddie walks to the door, hoping Steve is going to open it and not ignore him leaving him outside.
When he opens the door Eddie has to suppress a gasp because fuck he missed him. Steve is just wearing sweatpants and a tank top and he’s rubbing his eyes, glaring at him, not angrily, but annoyed, at being woken up probably. And he looks fucking beautiful. He is so fucking beautiful.
“You were sleeping,” Eddie says stupidly.
“What do you want Eddie?” Steve questions, but moves away from the door, an invitation.
“I’m sorry” 
“It’s fine Eddie, I wasn't sleeping”
“No, I'm sorry,” Eddie says again standing in front of Steve as soon as he closes the door.
Steve cocks his head confused but then frowns “I- I don’t need you to apologize for that” He scoffs but he looks embarrassed and he hugs himself like he’s putting a barrier between himself and Eddie.
“I’m not. I’m apologizing for the after, and the before,” Eddie tells him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to come and talk to you. I thought you were mad at me and I didn't know what to do. I was scared because I don’t know how to explain myself and I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t care, or like you didn’t matter because you matter so much to me, Steve. To the boys too if the amount of shit I’ve received this last week is any indication.”
He pauses to smile shyly at Steve when he hears a faint chuckle at that, then takes a deep breath and keeps going,
“And I'm sorry about the before because I should’ve been paying more attention, I was so lost I’m own little world where you are too good to be true, too good for me and I didn't even think about how you felt. How you could’ve felt about me and I should've realized that you liked me back and I should’ve kissed you, Steve! When I saw you there, looking like a fucking dream in those jeans, wearing a shirt with my stupid band name on it, I should've kissed you”
He’s panting when he finishes his rant, not from lack of air but from the amount of passion in his speech. He’s been looking anywhere but at Steve as he talked, but now that he’s done he finally looks at him.
And Steve is looking back, mouth slightly open and eyes huge and unblinking, and then he abruptly surges forward, grabs Eddie’s face, one hand on the back of his neck the other on his cheek, and kisses him.
Eddie instantly melts into it, he kisses him back with all he has, and pours everything he feels into it, and Steve moans when he licks inside his mouth and it’s absolutely wonderful but then, just as suddenly as he kissed him, he pushes him away. It startles Eddie so much he stumbles and almost falls.
“Fuck!” no- just”
“Steve?”
“Just wait, because I need to make sure, Eddie,” Steve says crossing his arms again and staring him in the eyes, “What exactly are you saying?” he asks.
Eddie looks at him praying he says the right thing, “I’m saying I love you and I want to be with you and I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you” 
“And?” Steve says but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips and Eddie feels hopeful he’s on the right track. 
“And… I’m sorry I kissed that girl?” He tries.
“Damn right you are, and?” 
“And I’m not going to do something like that again?” Eddie says smiling back.
But then Steve’s smile is gone and looks seriously at him, “If we are doing this Eddie, if I’m going to give you my heart, you need to promise, promise you’ll be careful with it because-” And he stops talking, leaves the rest unsaid but Eddie understands what he means. 
And he’s impulsive but not about this, not about loving Steve and he’s stubborn and so very determined to treat him right. 
He moves close again and puts one hand on Steve's cheek, feeling him nuzzle into it as he places his other hand on his chest, right where his heart is.
Looks him in the eye when he says. “I promise” and this time, when they kiss, Steve doesn’t push him away but closer instead.
fin
part one
part two
part three
part four
part five (you are here!)
☕🥐💕 cafecito?
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Note
Rollo-shi?! Since when did you get here? N-No, I’m not reading any suspicious material!! Leave my manga alone, nooo don’t take it!
This interaction made me think about how MAD Rollo would be if he learned about how many doujins there are of him (many of which ship him with Malleus) 😂 Man would have an aneurysm…
Like Fire, Hellfire.
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An otaku’s distressed wails carried down the hallways, but ultimately fell upon deaf ears. Hear no evil, see no evil. Grimacing, Rollo calmly held Idia’s manga out of reach.
“Idia-kun,” he said sternly, the name like poison on his thin lips, “you’ve at last decided to show your face in the classroom, and you bring in unsolicited materials on your person? It was already highly inappropriate enough for any student, let alone a dorm leader, to be absent from their professor's lectures—”
“It’s an exam day,” Idia lamented. “It's in-person only, I had no choice to opt out…”
“—but this crosses a line. Only notebooks and textbooks are permitted in a school environment,” Rollo continued. He waved around the volume in his grasp. “I’ll be confiscating this. You may collect it once you’ve properly reflected on your actions and repented for them.”
Idia’s jaw dropped. “I-I bought that with my own money. You can't just take what's not yours!! What are you, a Thief using his Steal skill on a helpless background NPC?!"
Rollo shuddered at the single word: thief.
Him? A villain, simply for enforcing what was right? What was just?
The stone walls Rollo had built up around his heart trembled, threatening to give way to a great inferno of rage.
Have patience, Rollo instructed himself. He took a slow cooling, calming breath. Do not let a single miscreant rile you up. You are stronger than that.
Still, he frowned at Idia. “You have some nerve accusing me of common thievery. Is it not common sense to punish those who violate the laws of the land?”
But Idia paid no attention to his scolding. Instead, his eyes, fixated on his kidnapped manga, bulged grotesquely. Rollo's grip on it had tightened, his neatly trimmed nails biting into the volume.
"Y-You're going to ruin the cover art!!" Idia hissed through his teeth, features twisting in visible agony. "You're trampling all over the mangaka's blood, sweat, and tears!!"
Rollo's face remained neutral, but gaze held a sick sort of satisfaction. There was a thrill to witnessing a worm writhe on a hook. Well deserved, he added.
"If you take issue with it, you may plead your case to Mozus-sensei. and beg for his forgiveness."
"Wh-What?!" Idia's stomach dropped, and his chalky complexion somehow paled even more. His next words came out as a squeak. "Y-You're not... You're not going to hold onto my manga yourself?"
"Of course not!" Rollo scoffed. "I have no interest in maintaining your belongings. What's more, if I did keep your book in my possession, you would only approach me again in the future—and the fewer direct interactions we have, the better."
"Y-You can't hand it to Trein-sensei!!" Idia insisted. His voice, typically no louder than a meek murmur, had turned into a frantic, shaky shout.
Mob students were starting to stare. Embarrassed, Idia receded further into his hoodie.
"Oh?" Rollo quirked a brow. An evil smirk slowly spread onto his mouth, relishing in the delicious taste of triumph. “You seem to be rather distraught over the prospect. Could it be that you’ve recognized the true weight of your sin? Perhaps you’re more clever than I initially took you for.”
To this, Idia snorted. “Yeah, right. Like anyone’d listen to your delusional chuunibyou ravings and actually agree with them.”
“Hmph, unfortunate. Then you must be concerned for some other reason.”
Rollo’s eyes narrowed, considering Idia’s initial exaggerated reaction. The unprompted claim that he wasn’t reading any “suspicious material”…
A light went off in Rollo’s head. It was accompanied by a flood of nauseating revulsion. He fumbled for his handkerchief and pressed it to his nose, glaring accusatorially at Idia.
“… Could it be that this book contains salacious content you don’t wish for an instructor to witness?”
His flaming hair colored, pink fading into blue at the tips. It was all Rollo needed to see to ascertain Idia’s guilt.
He crushed his handkerchief and lowered it, revealing a jaw set firmly with disapproval. “I should have expected nothing less from someone of your dubious character! Have you no shame?!”
“Y-You’d never understand the ways of an otaku…!!” Idia snapped. He lurched toward Rollo, making a desperate grab for his manga. “N-Now give it back!”
“I think NOT!! This flagrant moral transgression needs to be reported to the highest authority possible!”
Rollo made to quickly step away. The shift caused Idia to stumble and miss the manga. His arms flailed, seeking something to latch onto—and caught around Rollo’s waist.
With Idia’s weight suddenly crashing into him, Rollo stumbled forward, the book liberated from his hands. Horror etched itself onto Idia’s face. Everything seemed to move in slow motion: the book launching in an arc, skidding across the floor… and flopping open to reveal a detailed spread.
“What in the world…?!”
Upon the pages were two unfamiliar characters, fingers carefully intertwined and palms pressed against one another. One character was dressed in humble priestly robes, a demure blush to their cheeks. The other sported a face studded with scales, a proud pair of horns protruding from their head. Large, leathery wings cradled the duo under the moon and the stars, a tail coiling protectively against the priest.
They gazed longingly at their partner through long, thick lashes and sparkling eyes. A text bubble between them proclaimed a declaration with all the power to move the celestial bodies above: "I love you."
Rollo had never wanted to retch more in his entire life than at that very moment. Clutching his handkerchief to his mouth, he gagged into the fabric. Heart pounding deliriously in his chest, his knees weak.
Idia scrambled on all fours to collect his manga. With a shifty glance at Rollo, he slammed the book shut and crammed it inside of his jacket.
"You absolute degenerate," Rollo roared. It was taking every ounce of his willpower to not whack Idia on the head with his staff.
"Th-This is why I didn't want anyone to see!! I-It's about a wholesome but forbidden romance between a dragon and a priest from a religious sect that's hellbent on hunting them to extinction... N-Not everyone can appreciate a good story like this!! Only cultured men like me can see its real value...!!"
“STOP!! I’ve heard enough,” Rollo spat venomously, “I won’t hear another word of this blasphemous material, nor your enthusiasm for it!! It's clear to see that you're the sort of depraved man who finds excitement in unprotected hand holding before marriage! Not only that, but to call for the union of mortal enemies...!"
"E-Eh?! Wh-What's wrong with hand holding and enemies to lovers dynamics?!" Idia jumped onto the defensive. "You’ve got a bone to pick with my OTP or something?"
"It's utterly repulsive!!"
His words loudly resounded in the lecture hall, drawing the attention of the other students. Mob students made faces, whispered amongst themselves.
“What’s with him? He’s losing his mind over something small.”
“New guy seems pretty high-strung.”
“Ehh, Idia-senpai has been too though.”
Rollo gasped, realizing his mistake. How his temper had slipped its leash and flared into a maelstrom. Shame seeped into him.
I’ve gone and allowed an evildoer to get the best of me.
He hastily turned away from Idia.
“… I will pray for you,” Rollo said quietly yet darkly.
With that, he stormed out of the classroom. Still fuming as he retreated, Rollo pushed past the students swarming in his path. He paid no mind to their ugly, confrontational calls, too caught up in his own racing thoughts.
The skin on skin contact. The fiery passion radiating off the pages. Love, understanding, acceptance. All of it, unpleasant and offensive.
Content happily consumed by that feckless fool.
“May God have mercy on him,” Rollo muttered scornfully. Because I certainly don’t.
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clementinesandwine · 1 year
Text
Jealous Kiba
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I have absolutely been slacking on writing any fics, and this isnt my normal content, but I have been thirsting for Kiba recently. So obviously, I have to write this 5.3K word filth :)
✧˖ ° includes~ seemingly modern au, established friendship, nsfw, jealous Kiba, praise kink, choking, dom!kiba, sub!reader, biting, scratching, hair pulling, honorifics, reader called good girl etc.
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You all gathered at Sakura’s apartment for her small birthday celebration. She had finally turned 21, the house smelling of booze and excitement, Kiba noted. He was stone-cold sober, having driven himself here, and not as happy as everyone around.
Kiba watched stealthily from his spot on the couch as you stood next to the pony-tailed idiot. Now he had nothing against Shikamaru, it's just that he was standing too close for comfort and he missed when you would stand that close to him, even if you and him had only been friends. You guys used to hang out every day, but recently Kiba noticed you distancing yourself. Probably because you were buddy buddy with Shaikamaru. God, Kiba could practically smell the jealousy on himself. He had no right to really be mad, having never confessed his feelings to you, but still, had all your days together meant nothing? Now you’re outwardly flirting with one of his friends?
You threw your head back, laughing. Kiba noticed the way you placed your hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder, slightly pushing him away. He knew Shikamaru wasn’t that fucking funny, so why the hell were you laughing so hard? Kiba watches as you lean in and give Shikamaru a hug, figuring you were getting ready to leave. He couldn’t help but notice the way Shikamaru held you, one arm on your waist, the gentle rub of his hand on the back of your head as you pressed flush against his chest. Kiba could have torn him apart at that moment, but he calmed himself. He could never cause a scene like that, but if Kiba ever sensed discomfort from you, he would be by your side in an instant. No matter who the person was, if they made you uncomfortable, Kiba was there.
He got up, flattening out his army green hoodie, and walked over to you.
“Hey (Y/N), you heading home for the night?” He asks you.
You jump, a little startled and a little nervous. You had missed Kiba, but distancing yourself was the only way you thought you could get over this stupid crush. You and him had been friends for years, you couldn’t ruin it over some silly feelings. But fuck, did he look good in green, the long sleeves of his hoodie pushed up giving you full view of his muscular forearms.
“Oh, yeah, I’m ready to hit my bed. Just gotta say bye to Sakura and thank her for inviting me,” you respond, looking up into his eyes. He towered over you.
“Let me drive you home then, you’ve been drinking, no?”
“Only like, two. You know I don’t drink like that. I’m fine to walk home, Kib,” you say.
“Well, you know I could never let a pretty girl like you walk home alone at night,” he starts, mimicking you. “Plus, I miss your stupid face,” He says, one hand on the back of his neck.
“Wow,” you say jokingly. “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered with that two in one combo.”
Your laugh calms his nerves. “Oh come on, I can’t just be giving out compliments, (Y/N). But, you can take it however you want,” he says, flashing his canines.
“I take it you won’t have no for an answer, so I’ll meet you at the front door, hm?” You question, looking at him with doe eyes.
He swears his knees almost buckle with you looking at him like that. Faking innocence. Kiba nods his head like an excited puppy and makes his way to the door.
When you’re done saying bye to everyone, you walk over to the front door. You spot Kiba standing there, rocking on his heels. His hands were stuck in his jean pockets, head down, his scruffy hair falling a bit into his face. He looked so good.
“I’m ready,” you say simply, trying to collect yourself.
He gives you a look up and down, brows furrowed. “Where’s your jacket?”
“Oh, I didn’t bring one,” you say with a smile.
“Tsk, tsk. (Y/N), you know what kind of man I am. Did you really think I was gonna let you walk outside in that little dress with no jacket?” He begins to pull off his hoodie. His black T-shirt underneath lifts along with it, giving you a full view of his toned abs. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together, knowing if you put that hoodie on, the smell of him so close would drive you nuts.
“Kiba I’ll be-” you start, but are cut off by him shoving the sweater into your chest.
“No buts. Put the sweater on please,” Kiba says. You do as you’re told, the sweater falling slightly below your bottom. Almost the length of the white dress you were wearing. “There,” he says. “Much better.”
While you walk to the car, Kiba keeps the doors locked. He knows you would try to open it yourself and he just could not have that. He was too much of a gentleman. When he gets to the passenger door, he holds the handle, unlocks the door, and pulls it open for you. You can feel your cheeks warm at his action. You have to stop thinking of your friend like this, he’s just being nice.
He waits until he sees you are all set in your seat, feet comfortably in the car, before he softly closes the door and makes his way to the driver's side. You look through the tinted windows, openly ogling at his biceps and chest that are oh so visible through his shirt. You realize you do not really want to go home. You want to spend some time with the boy you’ve been avoiding for a month now. As he connects his phone to the radio and picks a playlist, you call him.
“Kiba, do you actually mind if we drive around a bit or something? I don’t actually want to go home, I was just tired of being around so many people,” you say, which isn’t a total lie. You didn’t want to be around everyone. And his hoodie was just a convincing factor for you to stay out with him.
“Of course, you know I love my late nights,” he says, looking over at you. “Especially when I spend them with you.”
Kiba can’t stand himself. For one, he’s being too corny. Two? He is trying to flirt with his best friend. Maybe he’s just confident after seeing you with another man, but he doesn’t think he wants to hide his feelings anymore. “Why don’t we go to our little spot by the water? Listen to some music in private?” he asks.
All you can do is nod your head and watch as he puts the car in drive. You keep looking over to his hands on the wheel, his muscles flexing with each turn. You feel stupid getting turned on by something so small, but you can’t help it. The sound of the leather cracking when he grips the wheel, the veins on his hands. You clench your thighs together, that familiar feeling erupting in your lower stomach. Kiba pretends not to notice.
He pulls up close to the water and turns the headlights off. One of your guys favorite songs starts to play, you make out the lyrics even though the volume is low.
“Oh my god, remember when we used to sing this so loud and your mom would yell at us to shut up cause it would wind up the dogs too much?” You ask, giggling at the memory.
“How could I forget?” He responds. “We did that everyday for weeks. We were always together.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy recently,” you lie.
“Busy with Shikamaru?” Kiba asks, letting jealousy get the best of him. How fucking stupid.
“Why,” you ask with a sly smile, still very nervous. “Are you jealous, Kiba?”
Kiba gives you a double take, blushing at what you just said, the color of his cheeks matching his markings. “No no not at all. I-i’m just saying you guys are hanging out a lot recently. Didn’t know if you guys had a thing or something. I mean, I didn’t peg him to be your type, honestly,” he says, fidgeting with his own fingers.
“What do you think my type is, exactly?” You ask, leaning a bit closer. You don’t know what it is or where your confidence is coming from, but you can’t help but tease the boy. He doesn’t take the bait, though, only shrugging his shoulders.
“Yeah well, you’re right. Definitely not my type at all. He’s too quiet and laid back. You know I’m pretty quiet too, I’d like someone a little more outgoing to push me out of my comfort zone. Someone really funny, too, you know? A gentleman. Plus, he’s got a really big thing for Temari. We’re only been hanging out recently because he wants me to be his wingman,” you say, leaning back into your seat. You cross your arms over your chest.
“Wingman?” Kiba asks, again with his cute, furrowed brows.
“Yeah, I’m the one that brought Temari to the party. I guess I’m more of a wingwoman,” you say with a giggle. You look over, trying to maintain eye contact, but he keeps looking away.
“Oh okay, so when are you gonna start hanging out with me again,” he asks, leaning back in his seat. A stupid smirk plastered on his face. “Or is there more to ditching me than you’re letting on?”
You push his shoulder, admiring the feel of his muscle under your hand, only for a second. “No there’s nothing, you idiot. I miss hanging out with you.”
“Yeah well I’ve been missing you. And don’t tell Akamaru I said this, but he misses you too,” Kiba laughs. “If I’m being honest, I might’ve been a little jealous of Shikamaru,” he confesses. He knows you won’t judge him for saying that.
“Why’s that?” you ask, innocently. Your heart starts beating faster at the thought that Kiba is jealous of someone else for stealing you away.
“You’re my girl,” he says, looking up through his lashes.
“Don’t say that, stupid. You’re being so mushy.”
“But it’s true, you are my girl,” Kiba says. He knows Shikamaru isn’t a problem anymore, but he can’t stand the idea of you being with any man. He needs to make a move, even if it ruins the friendship. At least then he would know he tried. He can see your blush spreading across your face. You are no longer teasing Kiba, he always comes back 10 times stronger, your lips held in a thin line. “You don’t want to be my girl?” He asks.
You squeeze your thighs at his words and look down, no idea how to respond. “I-,” you start, but it goes nowhere. Your stomach is spinning.
Kiba slowly places his hand under your chin and brings you to face him. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Honestly, it's easier for him to be this soft with you, having not seen you for weeks. It's like all this time being away has given him the courage to finally open up. You still can’t answer, but Kiba can smell you. Smell the slight arousal. Notice how you have your hands neatly folded in your lap, squeezing your plush thighs together. All he can think about is being suffocated by those thighs. Kiba can’t believe his own confidence, but he finds it harder to believe how easy it is to turn you on. And how cute you are.
He leans into your ear. “You know,” he whispers. “The only thing I can think about is kissing those pretty lips of yours.”
You feel your heart stop. “Do it, then,” you whisper back.
He’s on you in a second, lips molding together like art. His hand runs up the back of your head, pushing you closer into his mouth. You shiver at his touch. Kiba licks your lower lip, wanting allowance to fully explore your mouth. You part your lips slightly, letting him in. You can taste the mint on his tongue as your hand slides over to rest on his chest. Kiba’s breath hitches when he feels your delicate fingers slide up to his neck and back down to his chest. You pull away at the sound.
“I-I’m sorry,” you say quickly, bringing your hand up to wipe your mouth. He snatches your hand before it reaches your mouth.
“Why are you apologizing, cutie? You getting flustered?” He asks. Of course he’s gonna be cocky now, knowing you want him the way he wants you.
“I just… I don’t want this to ruin anything, I just…” you can't find the words.
“I want you, (Y/N). I can smell that you want me too. How long have you been hiding it?” Kiba asks. You remain silent. “Come here, baby, come sit in my lap,” he says, pulling your arm slightly. You follow his orders, always having been so obedient. It turns Kiba on to no end and he can feel himself straining in his pants. The thought of fucking you sensless in his car floods his mind.
“I’ve been lying to you for a long time, (Y/N). I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” he says, kissing the corner of your lip to your jawline and down your neck. “I want you to really be my girl.”
You whine at the feeling of his tongue on your neck. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, placing his hands on your hips lightly.
“Yes… please.”
His lips are back on yours, hands gripping your waist and sliding up slightly, smooth fingers gliding up your back. Your hands are running up over his biceps, on his chest, fingers curling into his hair. You can’t help yourself, having finally been given the chance to touch the boy of your dreams. You can’t help but moan when his teeth graze your ear.
“Shh, don’t do that. You can’t handle what comes next, yet,” Kiba says. He doesn't want to hurt you.
“I-I can,” You grind your hips down, causing him to groan in return. He tightens his hold on your hips. “Please Kiba, I want it, want you,” you beg. He’s silent and you become overly aware of the situation you’re in. Sitting in your best friend's lap, practically drooling at the thought of him touching you. You’re afraid you went too far.
He stares at you intently before grinding your hips against him again. “How am I supposed to say no when you ask all sweet like that, hm? Look so fucking cute in my sweater. Always act so innocent, but you want me to ruin you, huh?”
He’s rambling now, sliding your hips against his even harder. You go to kiss his neck, biting slightly, when he lets out a hiss. “You gonna let me touch you underneath this cute little dress? Gonna let me take it off?” he growls into your ear. You can feel yourself slick from just his words.
“Please, Kiba. Touch me, I want you to touch me,” you whine.
“Where, baby? You want me to touch you here?” he says, letting his thumb graze over the wet patch forming in your panties. You gasp at his touch, hips bucking into his hand. “So sensitive,” he whispers.
“Don’t tease me, Kiba.”
“I won’t if you keep saying my name like that,” he responds, canines flashing through his smirk.
Your lips crash into his again, his hands sliding up under your dress. He palms the plush of your thigh, squeezes your ass and drags you closer against him. You move your hips against him as he slides his hands up, slowly taking off the hoodie and dress in one go. You’re embarrassed to admit you weren’t wearing a bra, the cool air causing your nipples to harden immediately.
Kiba throws his head to the side, swearing under his breath. “No bra, baby?” He smirks, kissing your chest.
You shy away. “They- they’re uncomfortable… never wear ‘em,” you whisper.
His thumb swipes over your nipple and you arch into him. “They’re so perfect, you’re so fucking perfect.” He’s practically devouring you, leaving purple and pink bruises all over your chest, collar bones, wherever he can get his mouth. He needs to mark you, show the world you belong to him, claiming you.
“Kibaaa,” you whine.
“Whaaat?” he asks back, mimicking you. He smiles softly, bumping his nose to yours.
You become shy all over. “Can, uh, can we go in the back?” you ask. Your body is pressed to his chest, hiding yourself slightly.
“Fuck yes, we can go in the back. Go ahead baby,” he says. You climb back and cover yourself with the hoodie as he makes his way out of the car and walks to the back seat. Opening the door, he climbs in and notices the hoodie. “Take that off sweetheart, let me see my pretty girl.”
He's back on you in a second, kissing you roughly, pulling you against him while sliding his hands up your back. He gets you onto your back and rolls up the hoodie into a pillow. After placing it under your head, he places his left hand on your cheek, kissing you softer this time. More passionate. His right hand slides lower, cupping you gently and placing little pressure. You grind up into his hand and he can’t help but grind into the seat. Kiba is unbelievably hard, especially with seeing how needy you are for him. He kisses his way down till he makes it to your sweet cunt. It's a tight squeeze, but it's all worth it. He has been smelling your arousal for over an hour now, he needs to taste you on his tongue.
Kiba takes a look at your cute, lace panties, noting the wet spot that's formed in the center. “These are cute,” he says, toying with the fabric.
You’re looking down at him, trying to muster up the courage to say something. “Th-Thought you didn’t just give out compliments,” you say.
Kiba kisses your thigh dangerously close to your core and responds, “Baby, I would give you any and everything.”
His fingers loop under the waist of your panties as he looks up at you for permission. You nod your head slightly and he pulls them off in one swift motion, holding them to his nose and inhaling sharply. You clamp your thighs shut, shy from his action.
“You smell so fucking good. Open your legs, babygirl, let me taste you. Please?”
You do as you’re told and it makes his cock twitch, still caged in by his pants. The way you respond, giving him everything he asks for, drives him mad. He takes a second to admire you, your body, the slick gathered on that pretty pussy of yours. He slides one hand up your thigh, rubbing softly, while the other uses his middle and ring finger to swipe through your folds. Your hips thrust upwards as he pulls the fingers to his mouth, absolutely drunk off your arousal.
He groans at the taste, his breath fanning over your dripping core, causing you to clench. Kiba is already addicted to you, needing to feel you everywhere. He kisses your inner thigh, mere inches away from where you need him most. The feeling of his teeth sinking into the soft flesh sends a shiver up your spine and leaves your mouth hanging open.
Kiba softly kisses your clit before licking a stripe through your folds. He curses himself for not trying to get with you sooner, already addicted to your taste. His tongue teases your hole before swirling it around your clit. Kiba’s hand slides up your waist slowly as he works his tongue on your most sensitive part, your moans only spurring him on. His fingers slide over your nipple, pinching softly, and you arch into him, grinding into his mouth. He moans into you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure and you can’t help but squeeze your legs around him. He slides his other hand up to force your legs back open, while his other leaves your nipple to wrap around your throat. He squeezes softly.
You gasp and your hands fly down to his hair, wrapping your fingers around his brown locks and tugging. He growls into you, making you moan, “Kiba o.. oh fuck, please,” you beg, not sure what for. He hums back to you, the vibrations making you tremble again.
He pulls his face away, only darting his tongue out to play with your clit, while the hand holding your leg open reaches for your entrance. “So fucking good,” he mumbles against you. “Such a sweet, little pussy for me.”
Kiba enters you slowly with one finger and you pull his hair harder. He feels like he’s about to burst, but he knows he has to get you ready. Wants you to cum on his fingers first. You’re getting louder, moaning over the music, when he adds a second finger. Kiba curls his fingers upwards and finds your spot almost immediately, as if he already knew your body inside and out. With his fingers inside you, he pushes his face back into you, circling his lips around your clit and sucking softly. You wonder where he got such skills for a moment and it makes you jealous, which doesn’t last long, when you feel his hand slowly slide down from your neck to your waist.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck K-Kiba I’m cl-close,” you stutter out.
“I know baby, you’re clenching around my fingers. So tight,” he mumbles back. “Go ahead, cum for me. I need to taste you. That’s it, good girl.”
That's all you needed to send you over the edge. That neat, little coil wound up so perfectly had finally snapped. Your legs were trembling, back arched, and head thrown back. Kiba couldn’t help but admire your expression as you came all over his face and fingers. He slowed his movements and finally pulled his face away, sitting on his knees while still finger fucking you slowly.
You look up at him, his lips and chin soaked with your juices. You can’t help but look down at his hand inside you, watching the muscles in his arms flex as fucks you, before looking back up at his face. He leans over and kisses you softly.
“You see something you like, sweetheart? You’re clenching around me again,” he says with a satisfied grin.
“You just look so good with my cum dripping down your chin,” you say out of breath.
“Oh yeah? For a second there, I could have sworn you were looking at something else” Kiba mumbles, kissing your neck softly and curling his fingers again.
You moan at the feeling, “Please Kiba, I need you inside me.” You wrap your hand around his length and rub through his jeans.
“Fuck, baby, you gonna let me use this cute pussy of yours?” he asks. You nod eagerly, sitting up with him and pulling at his shirt.
“Take this off. I wanna feel your skin on mine,” you mumble quickly.
Kiba laughs back, “Yeah? Or do you wanna just see my muscles? You’ve been eyein’ them this whole time.”
“Maybe a little bit of both,” you smile and lean in, pecking his lips. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly and you run your hand down his chest, towards his length, admiring his toned torso and smooth skin. You unbuckle his belt to the best of your ability and he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his length out. You’re speechless.
“I-I don’t know if it's gonna fit,” you say, without thinking.
He laughs, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you. And if it's too much,” he starts, grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “you tell me right away, okay? I don’t care what the issue is, if it hurts, if you’re tired. There doesn’t even have to be a reason. You wanna stop? Just say the words, no questions asked, and I will take care of you.”
He slides his hand to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. You nod your head, but he won’t take that for an answer this time. “I need your words, my love. Tell me you understand.”
“I promise to tell you if I need you to stop,” you say confidently.
“Good girl,” Kiba says. “Come sit on my lap, princess.”
You swing your leg over his, sitting directly over his tip. He slides his hands up your back, kissing your chest softly. Your hand reaches down and lines his length up with your entrance. You wrap your arms around Kiba’s neck and his hands settle at your waist. You begin to sink down on his length, the stretch painful, but good at the same time.
“That’s it, love. Slow, just like that. Doing so good for me, so tight,” he mumbles into your ear. Your head is down, struggling to maintain any bit of composure, and his grip tightens on your waist. Kiba hisses through his teeth when you fully sink down on him, your walls already fluttering around him. You swear you've never had anything this deep inside of you before.
“You okay, babygirl,” he asks, searching your eyes for any lies. You can see the love he holds for you.
“Y-yes… just so, s-so full,” you respond.
Kiba pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth instantly. He pulls your hips back up before pushing you back down on his length, trying to find a steady pace. You melt under his touch and lean your head on his shoulder. Your moans sound directly in his ear and he can’t help but graze his teeth on your shoulder. When you whine, he sinks his teeth in softly. Not enough to pierce your skin, but enough to leave a mark. When he lifts your body again, he keeps it there.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you against his chest. Your arms fold in, hands left on his shoulders and your head remains next to his. Cheek against cheek. “I got you baby, so good,” he whispers, one arm around your waist, his hand squeezing your side. His other arm is pulled diagonally across your back, with his hand gripping your shoulder. He begins to thrust up into you, hugging you against his chest.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you falling apart like this because of me,” he starts. Kiba pushes his head down and starts kissing along your collarbone. “When I saw you and Shikamaru today, I got so jealous, the way you touched him, the way you let him touch you. God, I’m angry just thinking about him touching you. Anyone touching you. I can’t let anyone else touch you after that.”
He’s full on grunting now, slamming into you at an ungodly pace. Your legs are shaking and your moans are spilling out, unable to control them anymore. The hand he has on your shoulder runs up the back of your neck and grabs a fist full of hair, pulling your head back. He nibbles on your neck and you can feel him grinning against you.
“You are mine,” he growls out, accentuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. You clench around him. You can’t help but topple over the edge again, your juices dripping down your thighs as you moan out his name.
“Oh you like that? Being told who you belong to? Look at you, baby. Always acting so innocent in public, but here you are, cumming all over my cock in the backseat of my car. You sound so fucking pretty, baby, taking me so well,” He continues. “Go ahead, tell me who you belong to.”
Your head is dizzy, trying to grasp on to anything as he fucks you stupid. The words coming out of his mouth have you shocked. The humiliation and praise all at once has you sinking your nails into his shoulder. “Y-you,” you try to start but only end up stuttering. “I belong to you, Kiba,” you gasp out.
“Good girl,” he kisses your cheek. Kiba can feel himself getting lost in you, and tries to hold back the urge to finish already. He wants to finish with you.
“I’m close, love,” he whispers. “Think you can finish with me?”
“Yes! Yes I can, please, feels so good inside,” you babble out.
He pushes you back, your back hitting the back of the driver's seat, and you hold yourself up with your thighs. Kiba wraps his hand around your throat again, squeezing slightly. You reach a hand down to play with yourself, but Kiba grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. You whine in response, knowing you wouldn't be able to form a full sentence anyway.
“It's okay, sweetheart, let me do it for you. You know I take care of you, don’t you?” Kiba asks, though he doesn’t expect an answer. Not with how blissed out you look. He rubs steady circles on your clit, his abdomen burning from holding back. Your legs are shaking and he can’t help but smile at you, the only words leaving your mouth being “Oh fuck” and “please.”
“Awww, you cockdrunk that easy?” He grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. “Your pussy feels so good clenching around me, like you were made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you, baby? Fuck,” Kiba says. He’s never talked so much during sex, but it's so easy with you. And you obviously love the sound of his voice, judging by the way you flutter around him every time he speaks.
You know you can’t last much longer, the overstimulation from your previous orgasms having an affect on you. Your thighs are burning from holding yourself up. “Ki-Kiba I-” you try to start.
“I know baby, me too. Look at me, I want you to look at me while you cum on my cock,” he says, turning your head to face him. “That’s it, so pretty, doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”
You begin to shake, looking Kiba in his dark eyes, as your orgasm washes over you. He’s falling over the edge almost instantly, your pussy milking him for all he has, filling you until the sticky, white substance begins to slip out.. He pulls you into his chest and you relax against him, steady your breathing as he rubs small circles on your back.
“Such a good girl,” he says, kissing your forehead. You look up at him, puckering your lips for another kiss. He laughs lightly, kissing your lips, and pushes your hair out of your face. His hairs are sticking to his forehead with sweat. You can feel the slick covering your bodies, but don’t want to move.
“You want to be my girl, now?” Kiba asks.
“You idiot, I’ve always wanted to be your girl. I’ve always wanted you to be my boy.”
Kiba leans over and grabs that same green sweater, pulling it over your head and guiding your arms through the sleeves.
“Why don’t we go back to my place? I’ll help you take a shower… maybe cuddle and spend the night?” Kiba asks, hopeful.
“Yes, I’d love to,” you giggle.
He helps you put your panties back on and gets himself dressed. Getting out of the car, he picks you up from the back seat and brings you back to the passenger side, buckling you in and kissing your forehead. When he gets back to the driver side, you cuddle up to his arm and stay there the whole ride home.
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Pretty sure I fixed any typos, but apologies if there are any. Also apologies for slacking recently on writing, just a full time college student thats burnt out haha :). Of course, will be doing my best to get some stuff out.
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auras-moonstone · 8 months
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mad woman — ethan landry (epilogue)
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word count: 791
pairing: ethan landry x gf!fem!reader
author’s note: as i told you, i’m a rom-com girly, so i couldn’t have ended it any other way. thank you for supporting my work💕🫶🏻 i don’t think i’ll do other ethan series, but i’ll for sure do one shots for him!
last part ; series masterlist
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EVERYTHING WENT FINE FOR THE KIRSCHES AND THE FREEMAN GIRL. They got away with it—the fact that Bailey was part of the police clearly helped a lot—, Quinn and her dad left NY because she would still have to live in clandestinity and Bailey didn’t want to leave his daughter alone.
Ethan and Y/N, on the other hand, decided to finish they college education. They moved in together and their relationship grew stronger and stronger with each passing day.
They now were about to celebrate their fourth year as a couple, and Ethan had big plans for it. He had consulted it with his sister thousands of times—if she didn’t love them so much, she would’ve blocked him already—but he finally had it all planned.
“Babe that was the longest walk ever, did I have to do it blind-folded?” she asked with a laugh once Ethan told her they had arrived.
“I promise it’s worth it” his breath tickled the back of her neck and, even after four years of being by his side, it still gave her chills and made her heart go wild. His soft fingertips made contact with her hair to take the blindfold off.
She blinked a few times, to get accustomed to the light, and her jaw flew open. They were on the roof, and by the sight of the big campus, she figured they were on the Blackmore University building. But it wasn’t dark and lifeless as usual, Ethan set up a blanket and some cushions on the floor and candles around it.
Y/N smiled and then looked at her boyfriend. The warm light of the fairy lights—that were hung on the wall—reflected on his face and he couldn’t look more beautiful. “Ethan this is… perfect”
“Only the best for you, of course” he flashed his pretty smile that was only reserved for her. “Let’s eat”.
They sat on the green blanket and ate the lasagna Y/N made. Ethan could barely swallow his food from nervousness, and Y/N, who knew him like the back of her hand, obviously took notice of that.
“Eth, what’s wrong?” she asked, putting her hand on top of his.
“I…” he sighted before standing up. Y/N watched him go to one corner and turn on the small speaker he brought. A tune she instantly recognized filled the room. “This song made me think of you… well, of us”.
“Timeless by Taylor Swift made you think of us?” Y/N asked with a smile, tears already filled her eyes. And she didn’t even know what was about to happen. “That’s… that’s so sweet”.
Ethan smiled, sitting back next to her “Yeah… I never felt anything like this before. To be honest, I didn’t even think this feeling existed. But… everything is better since you entered my life—which, by the way, thank you for being noisy” he said, making her laugh. Tears running down both of their faces “I think of my life before I met you and I get this horrible feeling on my chest… I don’t want to imagine a life without you. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, have kids, adopt pets, buy a house, watch how our hair turns grey…” he made a pause “Get married…”.
Y/N smiled “Your list is on a weird order, Eth” she laughed.
“Shut up” he laughed, his lips meet hers for a millisecond “What I am trying to say is… I love you, and I want us to be together forever. So, Y/N, would you like to marry me?” He showed her an engagement ring with an emerald stone. Y/N laughed, which made Ethan frown “That was not the answer I expected”.
“No! I mean, yes! I want to marry you. I would love to marry you” she said kissing his cheeks, lips, forehead, jaw “I laughed because… well” she took a little box from her bag and showed him the content. “We both had the same plan”.
“Oh my god” Ethan laughed. “Well, aren’t you gonna ask the question, love?”.
“Dear beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking Ethan… would you make me the happiest girl in the world and take my hand in marriage?” she asked in a posh voice.
Ethan rolled his eyes “Do you always have to kill the romantic vibe?”
Y/N arched her brow “Is that a no?”
“It’s a put the fucking ring on me already” he said. And Y/N obeyed, and then Ethan did the same to her. “I can’t wait to get married”
“Me neither. I love you, so so much”
Ethan grabbed her waist to pull her to his lap “But I love you more”
“Not a chance” she laughed, resting her forehead against his.
“Should we celebrate this, fiancé?” he smirked, his eyes filled with need and lust.
“Let’s go home, fiancé”
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The Kiss- Thranduil x Modern!Reader
Summary: Reader surprises Thranduil with a kiss
Word count: 1, 398
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Bare feet slap against the cool stone as you run freely, and perhaps drunkenly, away from the regal Mirkwood party. The elvish party wasn’t boring per say, but with the strong wine in your system and being used to different types of parties, you suddenly felt crowded in the large ballroom and needed to feel the cool air on your skin and in your lungs.
You knew your destination, as you’d been shown it only a few days previous. It was a gorgeous fountain still close enough to the party to hear the music but far enough that you most likely won’t be interrupted.
Being by yourself and hearing the pleasant music, you couldn’t help but dance around the fountain. Barefoot, drunk and not a care in the world, you began to prance around, freely and happily. You’re sure you look like a beautiful and elegant sight, but to the approaching king, you appear more like a joyful child.
Thranduil had looked around the ballroom and was disappointed to find you had vanished. Leaving the party, he was furious to have to go and find you, that you’d left alone and unsupervised. You’d arrived three months previous from a strange world and the king had taken it upon himself to house you here and care for you.
Spotting you at the fountain, he’d planned on scolding you, as he’d done with a young Legolas many times, but seeing you more happy and free then he’d seen honestly anyone in a long time, his rage seemed to vanish.
Smirking to himself he decided to sit on one of the benches and wait and see if you’d spot him. You’d gone around three times before he decided to announce himself.
“Having fun are we?” He interrupted your joy.
Whipping around caused you to because a little more wobbly but you could still make out the scowl of the king. Normally this would make you anxious, but with the alcohol in your system, you couldn’t help but just simply see him as beautiful. You’d managed to be polite your whole stay in Mirkwood so far, but how handsome the king was definitely didn’t escape your knowledge.
Seeing him sitting on a simple stone bench, his tall stature and powerful presence made the simple seat look more like a thrown. He just looked so perfect sitting there with his blank face and long legs spread wide, you couldn’t help the way your body tingled and your mind turned perhaps a little cheeky.
“Well I’m having a lot more fun now you’re here, your highness.” You drunkenly smirk at him as you saunter over to him, standing in between his spread legs.
Your eyes and hands couldn’t seem to stay still, and you found yourself staring all over his face and lightly running your fingers through his lovely white hair. In return Thranduil found himself staring back at you, watching your movements with intrigue.
The elvish king couldn’t keep his eyes from you and was surprised that he wasn’t mad at you or insulted. Even as your hands cupped along his cheeks and you leaned in and planted a sweet kiss to his lips, he still was not mad.
Your lips were soft and your kiss sweet. A part of him wanted to push you away, but a stronger part wanted more. That stronger part won as his eyes began to close, and he found himself leaning closer into your kiss.
As quickly as the kiss began, it was over. As you part from one another you both find each others gaze. Thranduils eyes are filled with confusion and wonder, whereas yours are glazed and a stupid and giddy smile on your face.
“You’re pretty, like a pretty princess.” You giggle at the king as your fingers card through his hair once again.
Thranduils kingly demeanour is broken and he finds himself chuckling at your drunken compliment.
“I think it’s time to get you to bed, small one.” He smirks at you as he stands from the bench.
“Oh yeh, you gonna take me to bed?” You flirt stupidly as your eyes begin to close, resting in his arms and against his chest, as he carry’s you. Another chuckle leaves the king as he begins to walk you to your bedroom.
The walk to your room is quiet as you fall asleep also immediately. Once in your room, Thranduil tucks you snuggly into bed. Looking down at your sweet sleeping form, he can’t help but stare at you lovingly.
He should turn away and leave you be, but doesn’t, instead he sits at your bedside for a moment, stroking your cheek and staring at your peaceful face.
“How have you managed to affect me so?” He whispers down to your deaf ears
*****
When you awoke the next day, you were surprised that although you were groggy, you were not hungover. Opening your eyes, you take in your surroundings and are confused at the many layers over your legs. You notice you are still wearing the gown from last night and suddenly it comes back to you, the kiss, you kissed Thranduil. Panic begins to set in as you lay there in worry.
Before you could spend too much time on the situation however, you heard a knock at your door and your name called.
“Come in.” You quickly blurt out.
Letting out a sigh, you notice that it is just one of the maids bringing you what looks like lunch.
“Seems you needed quite the sleep after last nights festivities, my lady. You have missed breakfast, but King Thranduil asked me to bring you lunch.”
If he asked to bring you lunch then maybe he wasn’t too mad at you, hopefully.
“Thank you.” You reply quietly as she places your meal beside you on a small table.
“You’re most welcome. The king has also asked for you to meet him in the garden.”
“Do you know why?” You ask anxiously.
“I’m not sure, my lady, but he did not appear upset with you. Once you’re finished with your meal, I will return and help you dress.” She explains as she exits with a nod.
Returning her nod, your mind begins to race with curiosity. So he wasn’t mad, or maybe he was just staying calm for now. You ate your food quickly, wanting to get the interaction over with.
Soon after finishing your meal, you were dressed in a simple purple dress that flowed to your ankles, with sleeve that came past your wrists. You were walked to the gate of Thranduils private garden, but left to enter alone.
Your heart raced as you walked closer to where he stood, nervously you played with your sleeves as you tried to keep your lunch in your stomach. As Thranduil noticed you approaching, you were surprised to see he had a faint smile on his lips.
“I trust you slept well.” He chuckled to you, as you stood before him.
“I always sleep well after a night of drinking, dancing and…. Possibly embarrassing myself.” You shyly confess, your head downcast in shame.
Feeling a delicate touch of fingers under your chin, you found your eyes meeting Thranduils. He looked at you so kindly and what you think you mistake for lovingly; there is no pity in his actions or his gaze as you expected there might be, just kindness.
“You did not make a fool of yourself, dear.” He soothingly calms your worries.
You begin to find yourself leaning into his touch as he fingers rise to cup your cheek and he moves closer to you.
“Your kiss did not offend me, and in fact I quite enjoyed it.” Thranduil confessed, surprisingly bashfully.
Your brows knit in confusion at such a confession, causing Thranduils grin to grow.
“I called you here because I wondered how your kiss would feel with both of us sober.” He told you gently, his voice so soft that it lulled your shock, even as his other hand rested gently on your other cheek.
“I’d like that too.” You whispered back your confession as both you and Thranduil leaned into one another.
Your lips found each other and connected in a sweet and loving way. As the kiss continued, your hands came to rest around his neck, using the leverage and your tippy toes to push deeper into the kiss.
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withacapitalp · 11 months
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How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Part 12
We're back babey :DDDD Happy to announce hiatus is over fellowsssss but also TW for this one Steve has a panic attack. Also thanks as always to @stevethehairington for betaing and supporting and generally just being the best friend a person can ask forrrrr also @thefreakandthehair for listening to me ramble about this endlessly. When I say I was working on this for two months, legitimately for the entire two months I was working on this
Part One Part Eleven Part Thirteen Link to Ao3
Step Twelve: Watch Him Stumble
In terms of gigs, this probably had to be one of the best sets Eddie had ever played. The energy was off the charts, the crowd was in it with them at every step, and best of all, Steve had been smiling the whole time. Even the power going out had a certain panache to it. Like a final zinger to finish off the wicked guitar solo in Breathless that made Eddie’s heart race every single time he played it. 
Was it ideal to have to sit in the dark and wait for the lights to come back on? Not by a long shot, but there was no denying that the ending of the song had been one hundred percent bonafide metal. 
All in all, Eddie wasn’t that pressed about having the electricity cut out. It wasn’t the first time the power had died during one of their shows, and it wouldn’t be the last. The Hideout was a total dive, basically a shack at the edge of the woods with an electrical system that was shoddy, at best. The band’s equipment had blown a fuse so many times that it was practically routine for the owner to have to go downstairs and reset the box halfway through their set. 
“What’s going on, Dan?” Eddie asked as he saw the bartender’s flashlight start to come up from the basement. He was eager to get going again, unwilling to lose the killer vibe coming from the crowd. 
He also wanted to be able to see what a certain ex-jock thought about the song he had just played. But that was neither here nor there.
“Shows over, boys!” Bar owner Dan shouted, listening to the moans and groans from the patrons before sighing and walking over to the low stage. “Flipped the breakers twice, but nothing. Must’ve been somethin’ else that blew the power. We’re done for the night.”
“Damn it,” Eddie swore, scuffing his sneaker on the ground and strumming a discordant little note on his guitar for emphasis.
Of course this happened on the one night he was actually trying to impress someone. Of course. 
“You can leave whatever you want to here for the night,” Dan offered, waving his flashlight around, “It’ll be hard enough to find your way out of this place without trying to lug around all this equipment too.” 
Eddie didn’t care about the equipment. He cared about the fact that Steve’s first time seeing him play had just been totally wrecked by a stupid power outage. 
“Thanks, Dan,” Jeff said for all of them as Eddie continued to scowl, trying to push down his disappointment before it could grow into something impossible to manage. 
The bartender nodded once, turning and walking towards some of the patrons to give them the news, leaving the band to their own devices. 
“This blows,” Eddie groaned as soon as they were alone, mood still incredibly sour. 
“You’re just mad you didn’t get to show off for Steeeeeve,” Frank teased as the others started to pack up in the dark. Even if they were leaving their stuff there, they still wanted to leave it in a somewhat organized fashion. 
“Stones and glass houses, Frankie,” Eddie said warningly, turning to where he knew Frank was around and glaring. He was not above calling out the other boy’s very obvious crush on Janet at this moment, nothing was off the books when he was this annoyed. “No, I’m mad our set got slashed in half cause of a dumb power outage.” 
“Mhm, sure,” Gareth said, drawing out the word in a way that grated on every single nerve Eddie had. 
“Guys?” Janet’s voice floated over, stopping Eddie before he said something he regretted. Janet slowly came into view as she walked over to the stage, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. 
She was alone. 
Eddie’s anger vanished as a pit began to form in his stomach. 
“Where’s Rocky?” Frank asked, walking over to stand next to Eddie. 
“Where’s Steve?” Eddie emphasized before Janet could answer, looking around into the dark of the bar. It was hard to see anything but lumps bobbing and weaving about, but none of them seemed Steve-shaped. Still, there was no way Steve would just leave. 
Right?
“No clue,” Janet answered, rubbing her arm, “Steve was acting weird right before the power went out, and now we can’t find him. I sent Rocky to go look around.”
Weird? What did ‘weird’ mean? Weird was the kind of word that only made even more questions. Did Steve totally hate the music? Was he having a bad time? Had Eddie completely misinterpreted everything he had thought from before? 
But before Eddie could put any of these fears to words, Rocky’s silhouette came into view. 
“He’s not in the bathroom. I even peeked into the ladies just to be sure,” Rocky reported. Janet made a disgusted little sound, reaching over to smack the younger boy upside the head and give him a disappointed scowl. 
“Hey!” Rocky snapped, getting out of Janet’s line of fire, “Not cool. I’m just looking out for a fellow party member.”
“He’s not in our party,” Gareth muttered immediately, stepping around his drum kit to come stand with the rest of them. Eddie didn’t bother to fight with his best friend or even comment on his stupid little jab. He was too busy freaking the fuck out over the fact that the guy he definitely wasn’t crushing on had seemingly vanished into thin air. 
“What do you mean weird?” Eddie asked, hating the way his heart was starting to pound. 
“He was like really distracted? And looked kind of freaked out. Not just annoyed or uncomfortable, but scared,” Janet said, trailing off with a grimace on her face. She looked like she had more to say, but nothing else came, and an stilted silence fell over the group. 
Scared? Steve? The words just didn’t seem to fit together. Eddie couldn’t imagine Steve being afraid of anything. He went headfirst into everything, confident to the point of nearly cocky, so sure of himself Eddie was sometimes jealous. 
“Maybe he just didn’t like the music?” Gareth offered, but his tone was weak. “Used the power outage as a way to slip out?”
“No,” Janet said firmly, shaking her head. “He… Something wasn’t right, guys.” 
Something wasn’t right. 
Eddie knew this feeling. It was that heart stop stomach drop moment. The deer hearing the first snap of the twig under a hunter’s boot, a rabbit sensing that a snare was nearby. It was the same way he felt when he was walking around town and saw a car full of douchebags tailing him, or he went to the woods to make a deal only to find no one sitting at the picnic table. 
There was something dangerous happening, something that instinctually made Eddie want to run for the hills. 
Something scary. Something that was a threat. 
He needed to find Steve. Now. 
“Maybe he’s just outside having a smoke or somethin’,” Eddie said, trying and failing to sound casual. “Let’s go look.”
Eddie carefully placed his guitar in its case and hopped down, walking towards the direction of the front door and hoping the others were following. He would go on his own if he had to, but he really, really, didn’t want to. 
Luckily he heard the pattern of footsteps following his own, and Jeff bumped his shoulder against Eddie’s as they approached the exit. Eddie took a millisecond to be grateful for his loyal batshit insane buds, then he was back on task. 
“Steve?” Eddie called as he walked out the door, mentally sending a prayer to whoever might be listening that Steve would be standing right there, waiting for them to come join him. 
No such luck. There were a few drunks milling about, a couple making out against the side of the building, but no sign of Steve’s pretty boy hair or his soft sweet smile. Eddie’s heart began to race impossibly faster. 
“Steve! You out here?!” Eddie shouted, hating the panic that was starting to enter his tone. He turned his head in every direction, but he couldn’t see any sign of Steve. 
“He’s long gone, Eds, can we go back inside now? It’s fucking freezing out here,” Gareth asked, rubbing at his bare arms and shivering as the frigid winter wind raced past them. Eddie could barely feel his own body, but he ignored both the cold and Gareth’s words, walking towards his van. 
Steve was there. He had to be. He had to be, or else Eddie was going to lose his mind worrying over what was probably nothing, and he might say something incredibly stupid when they actually found Steve, and that would ruin everything they had worked so hard to build. 
Luckily for Eddie’s increasingly fragile mind and heart, he spotted a shape sitting near the van. Eddie practically melted in relief, jogging around to the other side of his van, needing to see Steve’s face. 
“Well if you wanted to dine and dash so bad, Harrington, you should have-” 
Eddie cut off the idiotic quip he had been in the middle of saying, struck silent by the state he found Steve in. All of the relief he had been starting to feel instantly vanished, replaced by a bone deep dread that overtook Eddie’s entire being. 
Steve was on the ground, his knees pulled close to his chest and his eyes staring firmly at the gravel. He was still as a statue, barely even blinking, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Eddie could see him shaking from where he stood, trembling like a leaf in the wind as he continued to just stare at nothing. 
Something was wrong. 
“Steve?” Eddie said softly, reaching out slowly as he edged closer to the other boy trying to get his attention. “Sweetheart? What’s going o-“
Steve’s hand darted out the second Eddie’s got close enough to reach, fingers latching onto Eddie’s wrist in an iron tight grip that instantly sent a dull ache racing up his arm. The physical sensation was uncomfortable, painful, but it was the look on Steve’s face that hurt the most. 
Steve’s eyes were boring holes into Eddie’s face, staring him down with a flat blank glare that looked completely wrong on his features. It was almost like he was looking through Eddie, not really seeing him, just dealing with the threat that was coming towards his body. 
It shouldn’t hurt. After all, Eddie was used to people in this town seeing him as a scary person. He didn’t really bat an eye anymore when people switched to the other side of the street as he walked past, and he didn’t care that much about the way mothers would grab their children’s hands if he started to approach. 
But something about the way Steve’s protective instincts had deemed him a danger just cut right to Eddie’s core. 
“Steve it’s-it’s just me,” Eddie stuttered out, trying subtly to pull away from Steve’s death grip. 
The combination of his quiet voice and tugging must have tripped something in Steve’s mind, because a hint of recognition flew across Steve’s face, and he instantly dropped Eddie’s wrist, going back to curling both of his hands in his hair and pulling, shaking silently as he let his gaze fall back to the pavement. 
“Eddie, back up,” Jeff ordered the second he was free, stepping forward. 
“Jeff-“
“Eddie, he’s having a panic attack,” Jeff said firmly, interrupting his friend before he could start trying to argue. “Back. Up.” 
A panic attack? 
Eddie had seen Jeff in the throes of a panic attack before, and it was nothing like this. Usually Jeff would hyperventilate, gasp for breath as his limbs moved almost uncontrollably. He would babble out anxiety fueled rambles until the moment passed, then usually retreat into the safety of solitude for a while as he tried to piece himself back together. 
Steve just looked… gone, lost somewhere none of them could reach him. 
But Jeff would be the expert on panic attacks, so if he said that was what this was, then Eddie just had to trust him and hope he could help Steve. Unwillingly Eddie took a single step back, falling into line with the rest of the group who had crept over at some point, and were now all staring at the scene with a mixture of horror and confusion. 
“Hey Steve, it’s Jeff, do you recognize me?” Jeff asked calmly, keeping his tone even and clear. He seemed completely zen, unphased by the very frightening moment. The only way Eddie could tell anything was amiss was the way Jeff’s fists were clenched tight at his sides, an easy tell that he was trying to keep his hands from shaking. 
Steve looked up when Jeff started speaking to him, giving one short nod after a prolonged pause. 
“That’s good. Can I come sit by you?” Jeff asked, starting to step closer. Instantly Steve seemed to be back on guard, stiffening up and pressing his back even harder against the van. Jeff took the shift in stride, taking a step back and holding his hands out.
“Alright, alright. I’ll stay right here. That’s better?”
Another pause. Another short nod. 
Jeff took a second to think, then slowly slid down so he was sitting across from Steve on the ground of the parking lot, crossing his legs and taking a long calming breath. 
“Do you know where you are right now?”
Yet another pause as Steve contemplated the question. Eddie watched as Steve’s blank look shifted first to confusion, then to fear as he shook his head. Steve’s lip started to wobble as his eyes turned glassy and filled with fright. 
“That’s okay,” Jeff said soothingly, clearly trying to get ahead of whatever was starting to grow inside Steve’s mind. “You’re at the Hideout in the parking lot with me, Jeff. Our other friends are here too. Eddie, Frank, Janet, Rocky, and Gareth. You came to listen to the band play tonight, do you remember that?” 
Steve nodded, letting out a long slow exhale, a bit of the tension in his shoulders dropping. His hands slowly slid out of his hair, fingers playing with the loose gravel of the parking lot. 
“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Jeff explained. His words were blunt, but his tone was still soft. “Have you had one before? Do you know what caused it?”
Steve’s jaw clenched up even tighter. Eddie found his mind starting to count the seconds, needing something to do in the moment in order to stop himself from speaking. 
He got up to thirty four before Steve finally opened his mouth. 
“The lights,” Steve whispered, sighing and reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “It was… it was the lights.”
“Lights? I don’t- It was… it was just a power outage, Sweetheart,” Eddie blurted out, unable to hold his words back. His mind was racing to try and fit the piece into the puzzle, but no matter how he thought about it, Eddie simply couldn’t comprehend how the lights of all things caused Steve to fall into such a panic. 
He looked back at the rest of the group, seeing if any of them had any clue what was going on, but they all had the same confused fright on their faces. 
“No. It wasn’t,” Steve stated immediately, his voice firm and set. His eyes were hard again, and he was staring at the ground with a mixture of hate and fear that made Eddie’s stomach clench up tightly. “It was not just a power outage, and I need to check on my kids.” 
“Steve-“
“I need to check on my kids,” Steve repeated, interrupting Jeff harshly. Now that the tension was broken, the words seemed to be coming easier, and Steve cleared his throat before continuing, “My bag has what I need, but the doors were locked. I got out here and then the doors...”
Steve trailed off, looking lost. 
“I’ll grab your bag,” Gareth offered, startling them all. He held his hand out for the keys, and Eddie gave him a look, raising a brow. If it was anyone else, Eddie wouldn’t even hesitate, but Gareth offering to do something for Steve of his own free will was like the devil offering to tie Jesus’s shoe. 
“It’s okay, I got it,” Gareth said, softening his voice, something far too close to pity in his eyes as his gaze flitted over to Steve, then back to Eddie, conveying without words that Eddie leaving Steve at this moment seemed like a bad idea
Despite the tension of the moment, a part of Eddie relaxed. Gareth was just being Gareth- the good Gareth that Eddie knew was hiding under bitchy mean Gareth that had cropped up out of nowhere. Eddie tossed him his keys and the rest walked to the other side of the van, talking in harsh low whispers that Eddie couldn’t quite make out. 
“This can’t be happening again,” Steve whispered when it was just the three of them, a breathy half laugh escaping alongside the words as he wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked his head down. “God, it’s really never gonna be fucking over, is it?”  
The question was obviously rhetorical, Steve probably wasn’t even really talking to them, but a physical pain started to grow in Eddie’s chest from the utter defeat radiating off of Steve in miserable waves. 
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to ask,” Jeff stated, taking the risk to scoot closer and maneuvering himself so he was sitting next to Steve, his back flat against the van, “but, while we’re waiting for them to get what you need, do you want to try a grounding technique?”
“A what?” Steve asked, just barely raising his head. Jeff began to explain his favorite grounding technique, using short and easy to understand sentences to go over exactly what he was suggesting. Steve uncurled ever so slightly as Jeff was speaking, his full attention on the younger boy. Even Eddie was caught in the lull of Jeff’s tone, his heart starting to finally flow down. 
Then he heard his name. 
“Eddie.”
It was Gareth on the other side of the van, holding Steve’s bag up and giving Eddie a wide eyed look of horror. He gestured for Eddie to come over with a jerky handwave, and Eddie gave him a look. Wasn’t the whole point for Eddie to stay? Why was Gareth trying to pull him away just as they were starting to make progress. 
“Eddie. Now,” Frank whispered harshly, his head popping up next to Gareth’s. He also looked freaked the fuck out, still far too pale. 
“I’ve got him, Eds,” Jeff said in that same soothing tone pulling another deep breath and watching as Steve obediently copied the motion. “Go see what they need.” 
Eddie really wanted to just say fuck it and stay exactly where he was, but Steve was starting to get some color back in his cheeks, and if whatever was in that bag would help, then Eddie needed to get that for him. 
So, very reluctantly, Eddie walked around to the other side of the van, leaving Jeff and Steve alone. 
“What?!” Eddie snapped the second he was out of earshot of the two boys, throwing Gareth a harsh glare. If this was another trick or some weird tactic to fuck with Steve, then Eddie was going to seriously have to reconsider their friendship at this point. 
“Look,” Gareth hissed, shoving Steve’s bag into Eddie’s hands. 
Eddie peered in the bag, still annoyed and confused. It was all normal stuff. Well, a little weird. Steve’s car keys, a flashlight, a walkie-talkie… a first aid kit… and…
“Why does he have a knife?!” Gareth snarled, looking more terrified than angry. 
“Lots of people have knives,” Eddie said, trying to sound calm. The words came out strangled, falsely cool in a way that made it obvious to all of them that Eddie was just as uncomfortable as they were. 
“Okay, but why does he need that right now, Eddie?” Janet asked. It was a good question, but one that Eddie couldn’t possibly come up with an answer for. 
Why did Steve need a knife right now? Why would he even bring it with him tonight? 
“Eddie? What’s going on?” Jeff called from the other side of the van, still blissfully unaware of the latest update to their situation. Eddie shook his head roughly, dropping the knife back into the bag and zipping it up, holding it behind his back as he rounded the front of the van again. 
“What is it you need from your bag, Steve?” Eddie questioned, keeping his voice firm as he stared down at Steve. 
“My walkie-talkie?” Steve answered, a picture of innocence. He had one hand flat on the ground, and the other tangled up in Eddie’s necklace, his thumb worrying across the face of the guitar pick. Then Steve's words came back to him. 
I need to check on my kids. 
Hot shame flooded Eddie’s stomach as he remembered exactly what had led to all of them snooping in Steve’s stuff. Steve had just wanted to reach out to the kids, that was all. The knife wasn’t really that weird in retrospect, just another overprotective Steve thing. He wasn’t about to get stab happy on them, he just wanted a way to protect himself if it became necessary. 
Eddie could understand that. 
“Is it not there?” Steve wondered, some anxiety starting to leak into his tone the longer Eddie just stood there. “I’m sure I brought it, but-”
“No, I have it right here, sweetheart,” Eddie said, interrupting the thought before it could even form. He tugged the walkie-talkie out of the bag and handed it to Steve, sitting on the ground next to him and watching as Steve flipped it on and switched the channels, taking a deep breath before holding down the talk button.
“Guys?” 
He let go of the receiver, and immediately there was an explosion of voices as the kids all began to scream over each other, shouting Steve’s name and endless questions. It was impossible to make out exact words in the mayhem, but Eddie wasn’t interested in that. He was busy focusing on Steve. 
Despite the fact that he was still trembling, the pinched brow and nervous look in Steve’s eyes faded the second he heard the kid’s voices. He sighed, leaning his head back until it softly hit the van, letting the tension fall from his shoulders as his eyes slipped shut. 
“See? All okay,” Eddie murmured, needing to add extra reassurance now that he thought he could. Steve shot him a weary little smile, rubbing the guitar pick around his neck once more before pushing down the talk button once more. 
“What are we dealing with?” Steve asked, about to put the walkie-talkie back down before the sound of shoes on gravel caught his attention. As Gareth, Rocky, Frank, and Janet walked back around the van, Steve continued “and I’m not by myself right now, so don’t say any stupid shit.”
“Who are you with?” Lucas’s voice said from the walkie-talkie, sounding tinny and electronic. 
“And say over next time. Over,” Will added. 
“The fucking ‘over’ bullshit,” Steve said to himself with a roll of his eyes before picking it back up. “I’m at the Hideout with Eddie, now what are we dealing with?!” 
Silence. Eddie looked at Steve with a raised brow, and when Steve looked around in annoyance, Eddie caught his eye and mouthed the word ‘over’. 
“Jesus H,” Steve muttered, looking up at the sky as if begging God to help him. “OVER!”
“Well we don’t know that yet, Steve,” Dustin promptly responded the second Steve’s finger left the button, his tone dripping with far too much sass. "We were too busy looking for you! Over.”
“I’m gonna kill them,” Steve stated, rubbing at his temple, “I’m legitimately going to kill them.” 
“Everybody shut up,” A new voice barked. Eddie knew it from somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. She wasn’t one of the kids, Eddie knew that much, but he couldn’t figure it out. “Steve, Jonathan and I will be at the Hideout in five minutes. Do not move. Over and out.” 
After a few seconds of staticky silence, Steve groaned, pushing the antennae of the walkie-talkie down and turning it off. 
“Of course she’s coming here. Of course,” Steve whispered, unknowingly mirroring Eddie’s exact thought process right after the power outage. 
“Wait, wait, wait. Was that Nancy Wheeler?” Janet asked incredulously, her jaw hanging wide open. 
No. Nope. There was no way. 
“Yeah, it was,” Steve said with a sigh, forcing himself into a standing position and stretching his shoulders. 
He was completely nonchalant about it, like it was perfectly normal to have your ex on walkie-talkie speed dial, and it was only natural for her to come collect you like a haggard housewife the second she thought you might be in trouble. 
“Nancy Wheeler, your ex girlfriend,” Eddie said dumbly, just to be sure he wasn’t being punked.
“The one and only,” Steve said dryly, becoming more and more himself with every second. It was like hearing Nancy’s voice had flipped a switch, and the vulnerable nervous Steve that had been sitting on the ground by his van was gone in an instant, replaced by a flippant easy going boy that looked like nothing had ever happened to him at all. 
It was bizarre, uncanny in a disarmingly normal way. Eddie had always kind of admired Steve’s coolness, how nothing seemed to phase him.
Now it just felt… not disingenuous per say, but more layered than it was before. It wasn’t completely an act, but Steve was definitely hiding so much more than Eddie ever could have assumed. 
“Why is Nancy Wheeler coming here?” Eddie asked slowly as he stood up, watching Steve like a hawk and looking for any kind of micro change in his expression. He got nothing. Steve was a brick wall. 
“Even if I could tell you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Steve said with a wry smile that didn’t look much like a smile at all. Before he could say anything else, they all heard the sound of tires squealing nearby, and a pair of headlights peeled into the parking lot. Steve moved like a man possessed, jogging around the van and towards the car still speeding into the lot. 
“What the fuck was all that?” Rocky said, asking the question all of them were wondering. Eddie shrugged, following Steve’s path and watching as Nancy Wheeler jumped out of the passenger seat of the still parking car, ignoring Jonathan Byers' shouting at her from the driver’s side as she strode towards where Steve had stopped. 
“What the hell, Steve?!” She snapped the second she had pulled herself away from the car. “No one knew where you were. You didn’t tell anyone, or leave a note, or anything. What were you thinking?!” 
“What was I- Nancy, what are you talking about?” Steve said defensively, turning around to briefly give Eddie a ‘can you believe this’ look before turning back to his ex who was still fuming. 
Eddie didn’t really know anything about Nancy Wheeler, it wasn’t like they ran in the same circles whatsoever, but he certainly had never expected to see her like this. There was two high spots of red on her cheeks, and her eyes were flashing in a way that just screamed danger. 
“You can’t just disappear out of nowhere! Do you get how irresponsible that is?” Nancy asked rhetorically, not giving Steve a second to answer before she barreled forward, “Mike and the others wanted to make a search party and start riding around on their bikes looking for you. What are you even doing here?”
“I didn’t realize going out was a crime,” Steve said in a moody tone, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Nancy a cool glare. 
Things were quickly devolving between the two of them, and as much as Eddie wanted to intervene, he hung back and observed. That was the thing most people didn’t realize about him. Eddie could be quiet and listen when it benefitted him. 
“It is if you don’t tell me where you are!” Nancy exploded, throwing her hands up as she did. “Especially if it’s because you’re hiding that you’re doing something dangerous.”  
With those words she poignantly turned her glare towards Eddie, as if he personally was holding Steve hostage. Steve’s face screwed into a dark scowl and he stepped so he was back directly in Nancy’s view line, blocking her from the others. 
Protecting Eddie from her. 
That shouldn’t have made him feel as warm as it did. 
“Nancy. I don’t know how you forgot, but let me remind you- We. Broke. Up,” Steve said, each word punching directly out of his chest and exposing just how raw that still fresh wound was. “You’re dating Jonathan now, so what I do, and who I’m friends with, and how I spend my time isn’t your problem anymore.” 
“Nance,” Jonathan said, trying to grab Nancy’s arm. She pulled away from his grip, stepping close to Steve. 
“Yes, it is my problem! You are still my problem!” She shouted. 
Eddie would’ve chalked it all up to crazy ex-girlfriend disease and dragged Steve away from the fight, but something strange was developing. The anger was quickly draining away from Nancy’s features and all that was left was a painful grief, the kind that made Eddie want to turn his head and find anything else to look at. This wasn’t just a jealousy thing, or psycho ex behavior. 
This was something more. 
“Look, I know we broke up, and I know that’s my fault, but first the lights flickered, then power went out, and none of us could find you,” Nancy said, looking down at the ground as her voice began to waver and her features inevitably turned towards tears. “You weren’t at your house. It was empty, and it was just the pool, and no one there, and I thought- I thought-”
Eddie would never know what Nancy had been trying to say, because Steve enveloped her in his arms at that moment, holding her gently against his chest as he shielded her from the rest of the world. 
There was a momentary flare of jealousy that ignited in Eddie’s chest, a second where he felt a blinding, irrational hatred for Nancy Wheeler and everything she was. But then Steve was holding out his other arm to Jonathan, who hesitated for a second and looked extremely uncomfortable, but came closer nonetheless, all three of them sharing an exhausted hug. Jonathan and Nancy put Steve between the two of them, joining their hands between his shoulder blades as they held him close. 
Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t romantic. No need to be jealous. 
Not that Eddie had any right to be jealous in the first place. It shouldn’t matter that Steve seemed to have some sort of weird magnanimous relationship with his ex and her new boyfriend. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t his concern. 
It mattered. It mattered so much. 
“I’m fine, see? Right here,” Steve said, slightly muffled by the two people still holding him like he was the most precious object in the universe. 
“You can’t do that,” Nancy managed to gasp out, clearly in tears given how thick her voice had gotten, even if Eddie couldn't see them. “I can’t lose you too.” 
Too? Who had Nancy lost? 
The questions were only continuing to mount, and Eddie wondered if you could get a panic attack just by standing close to someone who had just had one. It was certainly getting harder to breathe the longer he looked at the three of them. 
“You’re not losing me,” Steve said firmly, as if he was writing it into law just by saying it out loud, “we aren’t losing anyone again.”
“You can’t know that,” Nancy said, her voice so soft Eddie almost missed it. As she did Jonathan looked up, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder as he made eye contact with Eddie. 
“Guys,” Jonathan called, reluctantly pulling away and nodding his head towards the rest of Hellfire who were all still standing there. Nancy quickly wiped at her eyes and Steve stepped back, putting distance between him and the couple again. 
“Hopper went to the lab,” Nancy said, picking her words slowly and carefully. “He dropped um… her off at my house with the rest of the kids.” 
Her?
“How is she?” Steve asked. Well, he knew, but Eddie was still in the dark. Who could ‘her’ be? Nancy had a little sister, didn’t she? Maybe she had a tendency to run off or something. 
“She’s freaked out. She passed out when the power outage happened, but we don’t know why yet,” Jonathan answered, wrapping his arms around his stomach. 
Steve sighed, swiping a hand across his face and turning around. He jogged over to grab his bag, slinging it over one shoulder as he walked back over. 
“Let’s just go. I don’t want to leave the kids alone right now,” Steve said, slipping back into his role as babysitter as easy as breathing. Jonathan and Nancy both nodded, waiting until Steve was in line with them before starting to walk to the car. 
It hurt almost, being forgotten, dismissed. It was like they had never even existed, like nothing else that had happened tonight mattered. 
It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t know he and the others weren’t Steve’s first choice of friends, but having it so blatantly thrown in his face didn’t feel all that great. There was an extra sting when Eddie considered exactly who those first choice friends were. 
Steve would apparently rather spend time with his ex and her new boyfriend over Eddie and his friends. 
Whatever. No problem. Eddie shoved the feeling down in his chest, deep where it would bother him all night long, but where it wouldn’t come out in mean lashing words towards anyone else.
But, as he spun on his heel and went to go stomping back towards his van, a shout behind his back stopped Eddie in his tracks. 
“Eddie!” 
Steve was running over to them, the back passenger door of Jonathan’s car still wide open. He slid to a stop right in front of Eddie, panting just a bit as he reached up towards Eddie’s neck. 
“I totally forgot,” Steve said apologetically, expertly unclasping the necklace and reaching over. Eddie shivered, sucking a sharp breath in as Steve’s arms wrapped around his neck, fingers just barely grazing Eddie’s skin as he returned the necklace to its rightful owner. 
“I had a really nice time tonight,” Steve murmured, looking up at Eddie with those big cow eyes and a bashful little smile. 
“Really?” Eddie said, thrilled but unable to believe it. Steve was probably just being nice, that was all. 
“Well, before,” Steve amended, his cheeks turning a soft red as he took one step back, futzing with Eddie’s necklace so it sat perfectly in the center of his chest. “I really liked your band.” 
“I’m glad,” Eddie managed to stammer out, both hating and loving the way his entire brain was turning to mush the longer Steve had his hand on his chest. Steve had liked the band, he liked the music. 
That didn’t mean he liked Eddie, but there was no denying the thrill that was shooting up Eddie’s spine. 
“Seriously. Thank you,” Steve said, patting Eddie right above his heart once more before mercifully pulling away. “It was nice to just get to be a little… normal.” 
“Anytime, Sweetheart,” Eddie replied, biting his tongue before he could do something stupid like promise that Steve could be normal with him whenever he wanted. 
“By the way you guys are all invited to my place for a Christmas Eve Eve party! It’s on Friday,” Steve said, turning to address all six of them. “I was going to mention it on the ride home but well- Anyway, we’re doing a yankee swap, so bring a present. Oh, and invite Kaiden too.” 
“A what?” Frank asked. Eddie also wasn’t sure what ‘Yankee Swap’ meant, but he was never going to turn down an invite to a party. Especially a party at Steve’s. The Harrington house hadn’t been the subject of a rager in quite a while, but if this was going to be anything like those parties, then it was not one to be missed. 
Plus it meant more time with Steve. 
“Dude!” Jonathan shouted from his car. 
“Coming!” Steve called back. He gave Eddie a quick flash of a smile before starting to run towards the car, waving a hand behind him as he did. 
“It starts at seven. See you then, Babydoll!” 
And then he was gone, disappearing into the car and driving away before any of them could give him a proper answer. 
Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero
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smellingofpoetry · 1 year
Text
Last Time?
Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: They promised each other it would be the last time.
Square/s Filled: “Age Difference” (@spnchristmasbingo), "Lingerie" (TMAS Bingo - @supernatural-jackles), "Dirty Talk" (@spnkinkevents), “Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.” (@anyfandomkinkbingo)
Warnings: age difference, smut, 18+, finger fucking, sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk
Rating: +18
Words count: 2460
A/N: Hi there! Not long ago I wrote a fic called “A few moments of madness” for the beautiful @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone. It was fun writing that one, especially the part where I left with that huge plot twist. I genuinely thought it was the end of the road for this story, though, until the inspiration hit me. And what was I supposed to do if not write it down? So, here we are today. I think I’m starting to figure out my way with smut, but I’ll let you judge that. Let me know what you think about it. Enjoy!
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He was in big trouble.
Since his little accident with his best friend's daughter - if that's what you wanna call it - he tried to avoid Benny at all costs. He did a pretty good job if you asked him, until the Christmas holidays. He wasn't in the mood to celebrate since what happened with Lisa, and he definitely didn't want to spend Christmas under the pity glances his family would throw at him. Sunday's lunch was already too much for his own taste. So, he decided to spend Christmas alone for once. Maybe eating take-out on the couch just like a grown-up person would do. He had everything planned already until Benny asked him to join him for Christmas dinner.
Dean knew he should have ignored the bell ring - he knew it.
Either way, he agreed because it was Benny and because, of course, he felt guilty for what he did. So, now, he was stuck celebrating Christmas with his best friend and his daughter. Yes, the same girl he had fucked months ago, and he still jerked off at the thought of it, even though he would deny this last piece of information with all his strengths if anyone asked him.
Dean had a plan, though.
He had spent the prior night wide awake, planning his way through the whole Christmas dinner. It was a solid plan, and he was kinda proud of it. He just needed to stay away from Y/N and follow every step just like he had planned them.
What could possibly go wrong?
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They were halfway through dinner and Dean was pretty sure he was going to hell. His plan, which was supposed to be solid, blow up in his face the moment he stepped inside his friend's house. He didn't even know how that happened, but here he was facing Y/N at the dinner table. He did his best to avoid her gaze and participate in the conversation, but if he had to be honest the only thing he could see was her bent down on his kitchen counter. Because of that he almost choked on his food on multiple occasions. Thank God his friend was too busy making sure everything was perfect for his daughter.
Yeah, his daughter…
Dean's thoughts trailed off again until he realized he was staring at her sweater a bit too much.
"Oh, crap, I forgot the beans."
Benny's voice caught his attention just in time to see his friend get up. Dean followed suit without thinking about it, too afraid to be left alone with Y/N.
"I'll go get them." he tried, earning a weird look from Benny.
"No, man, sit down. You're our guest. I'll be right back."
And with that Benny was already out of the room, leaving Dean with his napkin still in his hands, staring at the door. He cleared his throat, glancing at Y/N, who was watching him amused, before sitting down again.
"You're being weird," she told him while sipping her wine.
"No, I'm not." he scoffed, even though he knew she was absolutely right about it. Y/N raised one of her brows, watching him from the rim of her glass which earned an eye roll from Dean.
"Okay, fine, but in my defense, I just want you to know that when I came here, I had a solid plan to walk me through this..." he said, gesturing at them and the room they were in it.
"Oh, and how's going?" she asked amused, trying her very best to hide her smirk. Y/N figured she had done a poor job from the way Dean was looking at her - unimpressed.
"Clearly, it ain't working."
"Clearly," Y/N smirked, putting down the glass she was still holding.
Dean scowled at her, wanting to kiss that smirk out of her face. Wait, what? No. Absolutely, no. - he had to scold himself for thinking stuff like that about his friend's daughter, even if that same person was looking too damn cute for her own good.
"Okay, stop doing that."
"Stop what?" she asked with her brow raised in confusion.
"You know what! Never mind," he said, stubbing some of the vegetables on his plate with the fork. He didn't even like vegetables, for fuck’s sake. Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, glancing in the direction of the kitchen before leaning more toward Dean.
"Look, I know that we started on the wrong foot..."
"You can say that again." Dean scoffed, gulping down a generous amount of red wine.
"And I would like for Benny not to know about, you know..." she said, pointing at the two of them. "...us."
Dean sit up straight at that, putting down his glass and leaning more in her direction before speaking in a lower voice.
"He can never know about us," he said, panicked.
"So, could you, I don't know, act a bit more normal?"
Dean furrowed his brow, opening and closing his mouth a few times his mouth trying to find the right words.
"Yeah, right, right. I can do that," he assured her, even though he wasn't sure who he was really trying to convince, her or himself. She nodded her head with a small smile, satisfied by his answer.
"Great. And, oh, Dean, what happened between us..."
"...it can never happen again." he agreed, finishing her sentence.
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Y/N was pressed against the wall, her Christmas sweater pulled up and her breast spilling out from her red bra. Her skirt was around her waist by now, while her panties were discarded somewhere on the floor. She could still picture Dean's face when he discovered the lingerie she was wearing under her Rudolph sweater.
Her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of Dean's cold fingers against her hot skin. Y/N felt them travel along the inside of her leg until he reached her aching pussy. He ran his fingertips along her slit way too gently, making her ache even more.
"Please..." she moaned, letting her hips sway back and forth in search of some friction.
"You want more, hm?"
Y/N nodded her head enthusiastically, trying to stifle a moan and failing miserably. Dean smirked, biting down on his lips. Yeah, hell was definitely waiting for him, and he couldn't care much.
"Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me, sweetheart," he whispered, taking away his hand from between her legs. Dean saw her open her mouth, sticking her tongue out for him and he had to restrain himself to not groan out loud. Damn, this woman - he thought while pushing three of his fingers inside her mouth. Y/N welcomed him without saying a word, sucking his fingers as if her life depended on it. Dean's free hand traveled down his pants, unbuttoning them to free his aching cock. He pushed them down just under his ass, taking down with them his boxer. His cock sprung free, tip red and precum already leaking. Y/N sucked at his fingers one more time before letting them free, licking her lips right after. Dean didn't even give her time to think about what was coming next and his three fingers found their way between her legs again. He circled her clit a few times before pushing inside her wet folds. He fingered her hard and fast, watching her take it thrust after thrust while taking hold of himself and giving a few strokes at his hard cock.
"Oh! God... Dean..." she whimpered, moving her hips against his hand while trying to hold herself somewhere, anywhere. She could already feel herself getting closer and closer, already tasting the pleasure when his fingers stopped, making her whine. Dean put his hands on her hips helping her move on her unsteady legs, positioning her in front of the bathroom mirror. He stayed behind her, watching her intently while his hands traveled along her body. He reached for her breasts, squeezing both of her tits in his hands and making her moan.
"You have to be quiet, now, Y/N. Can you do that for me, hm?" He asked her, licking the skin on her neck before latching his lips around her earlobe. She bit down on her lip, nodding her head at his question. Dean smiled with her earlobe still trapped between his teeth. He sucked at her skin one more time just for good measure before helping her lean forward.
"Bend down on the sink and spread your legs for me."
He didn't need to tell her twice. Y/N bent down, spreading her legs in the process. She felt exposed under Dean's gaze which made her even wetter than she already was. Dean bit on his lip, unable to take away his eyes from her glistening pussy. He took hold of himself, letting his cook brush against her folds a few times before lining himself at her entrance. He started to slowly push inside her, his eyes never leaving the mirror to watch her every single expression. Y/N closed her eyes, biting down on her lips to stifle the moans wanting to escape her. Dean let his fingers disappear between her hair, gripping a few of her strands and pulling them towards him. Y/N followed his movement arching her back and exposing her breasts even more.
"Open your eyes, babe. I want you to watch me fuck you," he whispered in her ear, feeling her shiver against him. She breathed heavily, taking a few seconds to regain control over her heart before opening her eyes just like he had asked her. The moment her eyes opened and looked at him through the mirror, Dean filled her with a deep thrust. Her whole body was pushed forward, and Y/N barely had the time to put one of her hands on the mirror to keep herself from crushing against it. She tried to follow every push of Dean's hips, matching his rhythm.
"Look at you, being fucked in your dad's bathroom by his friend." Dean panted in her ear, while still fucking her with a brutal pace. Y/N bit down on her lip harder, but she couldn't help the sound that came out of her at Dean's words. So, she put a hand around her mouth not trusting herself enough to be quiet, not when he was playing dirty. Dean smirked at her reaction, thrusting hard inside her while one of his hands went to her breast squeezing hard.
"Do you think he noticed your absence or he's too busy with the new year eve's party?" he asked her, knowing full well she wasn't going to answer him too busy pushing her hips against his hard cock. He let slip his free hand in between her legs, founding her clit.
"What would Benny think if he saw you right now, hm?" Dean felt her walls fluttering around his cock at that, making him falter for a moment.
Y/N let go of her mouth free even though she knew that wasn't a smart move, but the need to hold on to something was too much. So, she held onto the sink not being able to do anything if not stay there and take every push of Dean's cock ready to burst.
"Dean..." she whined, hoping that the music downstairs would cover her moans.
"You'd like that, don't you?"
"Oh God..."
"Say it," he told her, rubbing faster and faster at her hardened clit.
"Fuck... yes! Yes... yes..." she sobbed while the hardest orgasm of her life washed over her; her juices coating his cock. Dean groaned at the sight of her coming undone and after a few more thrusts he was spilling inside her, filling her up.
"Fuck, babe, yes." he panted in her ear, while his hips spasmed a bit more.
Dean collapsed on her, being careful to not crush her against with his weight. He breathed heavily, resting his forehead against her shoulders. Y/N rested against the cool sink, trying to catch her breath while letting her fingers travel between Dean's locks.
"That was..." he whispered, licking at his cracked lips.
"...the last time?" she asked him, scratching at his scalp making him moan.
"Yeah."
"You already said that yesterday after you fucked me on your couch..." she whispered, glancing at the mirror to look at him. Dean hid his face in the crock of her neck, grabbing at her breasts and squeezing them.
"...and the week before when we fucked in your car..." she whimpered, knowing exactly what she was doing while he bit down her skin.
"...and at Christmas dinner..."
Dean pulled hard at her nipples, making her gasp, and her core clenched around him but that seemed not to be enough to stop her.
"...half an hour later I was sucking you off, remember?" she asked, pushing him away gently just enough to turn around to have a better look at him. Dean let her move, still keeping her trapped between him and the sink, already missing the warmth of her pussy around him.
"Yeah, I remember that like I remember being balls deep inside you while your dad was sleeping three doors down," he whispered kissing her hard, letting his tongue swirl around hers.
God, she was able to make him a needing mess - he thought making a huge effort to push away from her. Dean licked at his lips, tasting her while slowly starting to recompose himself the best he could.
"We should get dressed and go downstairs before midnight," he said to her, bending down to grab her red lacy thong. She nodded her head, starting to adjust her bra before pushing down in his place her sweater. Dean kneeled at her feet helping her with her panties, pulling them up at her leg, and stopping halfway through to give one last lick at her wet pussy. Y/N shivered at that, opening her legs a bit more to give him better access at which she earned a gentle suck at her lips before he pulled her panties all the way up. Dean got up, kissing her one last time letting her taste herself on his tongue.
"You go first, and I'll follow in a few," he said to her, watching her adjust her skirt before walking to the door. She put her hand around the knob ready to turn it when she glanced at him.
"So, last time?" Y/N asked him just to be sure.
"Last time."
"Great, I'll see you back at your house then."
She winked at him before opening the door and slipping out of the bathroom. Dean closed the door behind her, resting his head against the cool wooden.
He was a dead man, but damn if it wasn't worth it. 
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deepouterspacecandy · 14 days
Text
If you thought I was a mush-heart before, hold my soggy Kleenex. I'm calling this one "A Mother's Heirloom" and while I definitely teared up while writing it, I hope this glimpse into what Abby's life could've been makes you smile. Hot damn, does she ever love you.
Now I can get serious about answering the many amazing messages and asks you guys have sent me. You incredible humans make me smile so big. Thank you so much for the love.
Your heart has belonged to Abby Anderson ever since that momentous night at eleven years old when the two of you boldly stole a Humvee from the motor pool. With Abby in control of the pedals and you at the wheel, the two of you found yourselves in deep trouble with her dad.
After the dust settled, and once you had toiled away, sweating off every last ounce of your debt, he pledged to never let either of you live it down.
True to his word, he has remained steadfast for over a decade.  
It is clear as day where Abby gets her discipline from.
“Well, if it isn’t the Steering Savant and the Pedal Prodigy, blessing me with their presence!” Jerry exclaims.
“Seriously, Dad, that happened so long ago,” Abby groans. “Will you ever quit?”
“Nope,” he beams, his wild grey hair sticking out in all directions. “You girls are lucky I’m around, otherwise you’d be out on your butts.”
“You say that every time,” Abby says, chuckling. “The Fireflies don’t boot people out for stuff like that.”
“Abs, engaging in grand theft auto is a significant criminal offense,” he says, combing back the greasy strands of his disheveled hair with his hands. “I totally had to play the doctor card to keep a roof over your heads.”
“Boy, you’re really nailing the whole mad scientist thing!” you interrupt.  
As Abby collapses onto the worn leather couch in his office, she helps you double down on her father.
“You totally look like you stepped out of a movie,” Abby giggles.
His fingers continually get snagged in the frizzy tangles, so he opts to leave it alone. But not before affectionately teasing his daughter for her unabashed nerdiness.
“What do you know about movies, huh?” Jerry asks. “You’ve been a bookworm since you were three.”
“Whoa, I’m a huge movie buff,” Abby says. As she defends herself, her hands become animated, punctuating her words with sharp gestures. “Caught one last night for your information, and I didn’t even nod off!”
“She’s so full of it,” you say. In response to her playful and piercing glare, you sarcastically raise your hands in surrender. “Seriously, she asked me what just happened like a million times.”
Jerry’s fond smile between you and Abby is so heartwarming that it feels like a tender hug for your soul.
From the moment you arrived at the gates, alone and shivering, with dirt caking your body and grime under your nails, he has consistently shown you kindness.
When you started having nightmares and had some trouble sleeping, it was he who proposed that you share a room with Abby to ease your fears, making the two of you inseparable.
A pair of bookends holding each other up.
When you turned thirteen and started feeling anxious about your sexuality, he was there pouring tea and lending a supportive ear, patiently guiding you through the process of self-acceptance and discovering the importance of embracing your identity.
Despite his extensive medical knowledge, he never treated you like a patient during the many calamities he helped you navigate over the years; to him, you were always family.
And he never missed a beat when something was going on with his family.
Although he’d been thoroughly exploring the realms of science, leaving no stone unturned in his pursuit of a cure for Cordyceps for as long as you can remember, nothing got by him. Despite the visible stress reflected in the deep lines on his forehead, he never complained or took either of you for granted.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asks, raising a tired eyebrow. “You are way past the point of needing my permission to stay up late.”
From the wastebasket, Abby playfully tosses a crumpled piece of paper at his head, aiming with impressive precision. Her words hang trembling in the air, laden with weight.
“There’s something you need to know,” Abby says.
With a sigh of relief, Jerry shuts the massive medical textbook and pushes it aside.
“You both good?” he asks, his natural inclination to assess for any harm emerging. “What’s up?”
“Well, it’s just that we wanted to tell you ourselves instead of you finding out through the grapevine,” you explain.
“The gossip can get a bit crazy,” Abby says with a nod. “And we’ve put a ton of thought into this, just so you know.”
Before you can spiral further into your worries, Jerry signals for everyone to stop by holding up a gracious hand.
“Are you finally spilling the beans about what’s going on between the two of you?” he asks.
Beginning at her freckled forehead and travelling down to her neck, Abby’s face becomes a vivid shade of red under her father’s knowing gaze. With a smirk on his face, Jerry long-sufferingly waits for her brain to catch up, amusement dancing across his weathered features.
There is a quiver in her voice as she speaks, filled with a powerful undercurrent of conviction.
“We’ve been more than friends for a while now,” Abby confesses. The moment her glossy blue eyes connect with yours across the room, time comes to a standstill. “I really love her dad—I’m in love with her.”
“I know you are, sweetheart,” he says.
After you both exit his office, emotions running high from diving into nostalgia over the many joyful years you’ve spent together, he reaches into his desk drawer and retrieves a small wooden box.
Nestled within is a handwritten note, delicately wrapped around the wedding ring that Jerry had custom designed and placed on the finger of Abby’s late mother.
She wore it until the day she quietly slipped into her soft white wings and well before he was ready to say goodbye.
For our little girl when she meets the one who makes her as happy as you made me.
With a careful hand, he holds the ring closer to the tarnished lamp on his desk, marvelling at how the diamond still catches the light.
“Won’t be long, now, Darling,” Jerry murmurs.
A soothing presence envelops him, reminiscent of a gentle, familiar kiss on his shoulder.  
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thebadgerclan · 11 months
Text
Justice
Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader
Summary: Justice is served
There is an execution depicted in this (nothing overly graphic), so proceed w/ caution
Part 2 to Salvation
The King’s condition had drastically improved since his….treatments with Doctor Orolv had ceased, but he was not healed.  Nikolai’s hands still trembled, he still felt the demon creeping in his mind, dragging its talons against his consciousness, the fear of it breaking free gnawed at him, but one look from you, one touch of your hand against his sent the demon skittering to the corners of his mind, leaving the King’s mind completely and utterly his.
Since your husband had moved back into your rooms, since he began spending his nights wrapped in your embrace, the demon had not come out, it hadn’t even tried to emerge.  And Nikolai was happier, he was more productive; his wit and banter was back, he was back.  And it was all thanks to you.  Nikolai had been going mad, he knew it, thanks to the so-called Doctor recruited to rid him of the demon.  She had tortured him: waterboarding, whipping, branding, starvation, isolation.
All any of that served to do was anger the demon, rile it up.  And when Nikolai passed you in the corridors, unable to speak to you by his “Doctor’s” order, the demon would buck, fight harder than it ever had to get free.  Little did Nikolai know that you would be his salvation, not his downfall.  Now, Orlov was in a cell and the King had never felt better.
Nikolai peppered your face with kisses, drawing you from sleep.  “Hmm, Kolya,” you mumbled as you stretched, the silk sheets slipping from your body.  “Good morning, my beloved wife,” Nikolai said, kissing his way down your neck.  “My goddess, my angel, my beautiful Y/N.”  You smiled, accepting your husband’s kisses.  “Darling, as lovely of a wakeup as this is, I don’t have time for your distractions this morning.”
Your husband smirked.  “Oh?  Even when my distractions are so very enjoyable?”  He dragged his nails over your side, making you squeal with laughter, and you extracted yourself from bed.  “Yes, even then, my love.”  Nikolai watched as you darted behind the dressing screen, a sleepy smile on his face.  But when you emerged, wearing your kefta rather than a gown, Nikolai’s smile faded.
He knew that look that you wore: it was the look you wore when doling out punishments, the look you wore when reading guilty verdicts at court.  This was not the look of his gentle, loving Queen; this was the look of his Queen going to war.  “You’re doing it today?” he asked, and you nodded, securing your hair back in a simple braid.  “I am.  She’s been interrogated and cross examined.  A unanimous guilty verdict.”
Laisia Orlov, former physician, was set to be executed today for high treason and conspiring against the Crown.  And she would die at the Queen’s hand.  A Rakvan Queen had not performed an execution in nearly 200 years, but this case warranted an exception.  “I’ll be there,” Nikolai said, rising from bed.  “You won’t have to do it alone.”  Nikolai knew your reservations about this, but your desire for revenge and justice far outweighed them.
“Thank you, my love,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder.  “I’ll see you soon.”  You would visit your prisoner one final time before she was brought to the Square for the execution, where Nikolai would hand down the sentence.  Your guards flanked you as you made your way down several flights of stone stairs, into the belly of the Palace.  Orlov was kept in the smallest cell, barely enough room to stand in, yet she sat as you approached.
“Come to berate me some more?” she snarked, and you scoffed.  “No.  I’m here to offer you your last rights.  Not that there’s much hope of repenting at this point.”  Laisia’s eyes went wide.  “You’re going to kill me?”  “Did you really think there was another fate for you?  After you tortured your King half to death?”  Laisia laughed, a cold, wicked sound.  “He is no King of mine.  That man is infected with evil and darkness, and I will be rewarded by the Saints for my efforts to save this wretched nation.”
You crossed your arms, looking down your nose at her.  “If that’s what you choose to believe.  Make your peace.  You have a half hour.”  You spun on your heel and left, ignoring her cries of protest, the hatred she spewed.  Outside, the Square was packed with Ravka’s nobility, the judges, the lawmakers, the physicians–the real physicians–you’d brought in to corroborate Laisia’s argument.  Unsurprisingly, they were all appalled by her methods, confirming what you should have suspected from the start: she was a radical intent on killing the King.
Nikolai smiled when he saw you approaching, dressed in his military dress uniform.  “My darling,” he greeted, kissing your cheek.  “Any news from my wonderful doctor?”  You shook your head.  “Other than the fact that you’re ‘infected with evil and darkness’, no.”  Nikolai shrugged.  “Well, we already knew that, didn’t we?”  “How are you so nonchalant about this?” you asked.  “This woman tried to kill you, tortured you, and you’re joking about it.”
Your husband cupped your cheeks gently.  “Because, my love, she is nothing.  Yes, I was tortured, yes, it was horrible.  But you, Y/N, brought me back.  You saved me, you keep me grounded, you keep the demon at bay.  My salvation, my love, my Y/N.  If I have you, then nothing else matters.”  His declaration would have normally made you throw yourself into his arms, but the jeering of the crowd drew your attention.
Laisia Orlov was being led out by armed guards, her hands and ankles bound.  “Let’s get this over with, yeah?” Nikolai said, and you squeezed his hand.  “Yeah.”  He kissed your cheek and you stepped from the raised dais, walking to the center of the Square.  The guards kicked Orlov to her knees and dispersed, leaving the prisoner to you.  She looked at you with hatred, and you looked back with equal measure.
“Laisia Orlov,” Nikolai called, silencing the crowd.  “You have been brought before your King and court charged with high treason.  A jury of your peers has found you unanimously guilty and has sentenced you to death.  How do you plead?”  Laisia, to her credit, did not cry, did not tremble.  “I am not guilty,” she responded, voice steady.  “I sought only to purge the madness from you, and in return, I am to be murdered.”
Nikolai did not cower.  “As decided by the jury, Queen Y/N Lantsov will carry out the execution in a manner of her choosing.  My love…” he gestured to you, indicating that you may proceed. “Any last words?”  “This will not last,” she spat.  “It will return, rot his mind, drive him to madness.  Soon, your dear King won’t know the difference between the heavens and the earth.”  You bent so your face was inches from hers.  “I will stand with him between the heavens and the earth,” you hissed.  “If that is what he needs.”
You straightened and folded your hands, calling your power.  You started by slowing her heart, just enough to make her panic.  Then you cut off her airway, made her pain receptors fire, severed her aorta.  Finally, you flicked your wrists and snapped her neck, ending her life.  The crowd cheered, and you forced yourself to breathe.  You had killed before, yes, but that had been in war, in self defense, this was…..
You felt dizzy, like the ground was swaying beneath you, but before you stumbled, Nikolai was there, steadying you.  “I’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing your temple.  “You’re alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”  You nodded, letting him lead you back into the Palace.  Orlov’s body would be cleaned and returned to her family; you could offer them that small mercy.  “Nikolai, I–”  “Shh, it’s ok.  Let me carry you for a while.”
He didn’t mean literally, though your legs were certainly shaky enough.  You’d carried him for the past few weeks while he recovered, supported him while his mind and body healed.  Now he would carry you, comfort you as you processed what you’d just done.  “Justice,” you whispered.  “Yes, my love,” your husband replied, kissing your cheek.  “Justice.  You gave me justice.”
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alarainai · 7 months
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'enlighten me, my dear. why am i even here?'
for @industrations, we suffer together. always.
His right side aches, limbs giving out from fatigue and pain. Next to him, Tonks slumps to the ground and he feels a deep sense of loss. His last best friend has been taken from him. It distracts him enough that Dolohov catches him with a stray curse, and he winces. 
Despite spending most of his years away from civilisation, Remus feels a pang of fear. He’s never wanted to die alone. 
Another spell hits him square on the chest, and he flies backwards, hitting the stone wall of the castle. His ears ring, and sounds of battle fade out around him. Nausea rushes through him in waves. He searches for his wand blindly in the debris around him, his body is unwilling to cooperate; out of exhaustion or terror, he’s not quite sure. 
Typical feelings of self-loathing wash over him. When will he ever do anything right? Will there ever be a person he can save?
His answers come in the form of a ghost and a shiver up his spine. The man in his dreams who scarcely leaves him alone, his biggest failure, his biggest fear.
“Moony,” a whisper. Remus closes his eyes and wills it away, “Moony. My Moony, it’s okay.”
“You’re not real,” Remus mumbles back to the darkness, his voice breaking around the words, “You can’t be- I can’t do this.” 
For a moment, there’s silence, and Remus hopes his hallucination has left him alone. But then he feels a feather-light touch to his cheek, warm and kind. His fear dwindles, love and trust remain. But he keeps his eyes closed, even when he feels another head resting against his own.
“Pick up your wand, Moony.” 
“I can’t-”
 “You can. You need to fight. You need to live,” the voice insists, disorientated and fading, “For Harry. For Teddy. For me.” 
The last words cause his eyes to open, blurry with unshed tears. But even in the midst of chaos and his own terrible sight, Remus is able to make out the familiar face of Sirius Black. He’s younger, untouched by his years in Azkaban, and smiling as carefree as he did in their Hogwarts years.
He’s also mildly translucent, which would be unsettling if Remus hadn’t been craving Sirius’ touch from the moment he lost him.
He reaches up, his hand meeting air. Sirius smiles in sympathy.
“You’re not here.”
Sirius shakes his head, “I’m always here with you.” 
“I can’t – Padfoot. Sirius-”
“You can and you will,” Sirius replies, narrowing his eyes, “Our Moony isn’t a quitter.” 
“I think you’ll find your Moony is very experienced in quitting.” 
That earns a laugh. And God, Remus has missed that laugh. He’s missed everything.
The late-night conversations in the dark corners of Grimmauld Place, the drinks and make-shift meals that always burnt cos neither of them had a cooking skill between them. Stolen kisses in Hogwarts corridors, plans of marriage and a future that they never got to have. 
A life that was pulled away from him, all because of this damn war.
Remus replies weakly, “I want it to end. I want – I miss you.” 
Sirius’ eyes soften, calm facade slowly crumbling. 
“I miss you, always,” he mumbles in response, “But I’m not important. It’s the ones still living who need you now.”
“You’re not even real, what do you know?”
Another laugh, even if it’s a little sadder now. Remus tries to reach for him again; this time, he feels something. A slight chill in the space in front of him, a distinct feeling of not being alone. His eyes widen, and he wonders if he’s already dead. If he’s gone mad.
Sirius brushes another hand across his face, “Fight, Moony. Live for me.”
“It hurts,” Remus confesses, “It always hurts.”
A scream breaks him out of his trance, although he clings to the space in the air in case Sirius vanishes. Remus glances over and sees Ginny Weasley fighting with all her might.
And losing.
He thinks of Molly, Arthur, and the Weasley family as a whole, experiencing that loss. He imagines if he lost Teddy in that way. His chest aches. A desire to help rises up again.
If he can just save someone.
Remus looks back at Sirius, who watches him with affection he doesn’t think he deserves. Kind eyes that experienced so much and lost too many. If he is real – and Merlin, Remus hopes he’s real – he doesn’t want to add to that casualty list. 
Even if it means he can’t be with him. Not yet, anyway.
“I love you,” Remus says, “I always have. I’ll love you in whatever comes next. Just wait a little longer for me.”
Sirius chuckles, “I’ll wait an eternity,” 
Another scream. Remus drops his hand and ignores the absence in his chest the moment he no longer feels a phantom touch against his skin. He closes his eyes again, just once, and clings to the hint of warmth against his lips, the love confession in the passing breeze.
When he opens his eyes, Sirius is gone.
Remus picks up his wand. 
And he fights. 
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draco-dormiens · 1 year
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THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Fourteen
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draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series
a/n: i'm so sorry for the wait, but here we are! enjoy my loves. thank you for all of your comments on this fic ♡
warnings: strong language
wc: 2976
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pls let me know if you want to be tagged!! if your name is bold, i couldn't tag your blog :( tags below:
@slyth3rin-princess-deactivated2 @lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @hnyusui @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized
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Chapter Fourteen - I Think I Love You
The sconces flicker against the stone walls, barely lighting your journey to the tower. Everyone else was still enjoying dinner and celebrating the announcement of the ball, but you were making the winding trip to find Draco. You thought he might have escaped to the tower early, hoping to find him waiting there for you, but when you reach the top he's nowhere to be seen. It was odd, but perhaps he'd retired to his dorm and forgotten about your meeting.
That, you figured, wasn't a good enough excuse.
The fact he hadn't shared two words with you since his game on Saturday didn't sit well, as you immediately jumped to the conclusion that he's mad at you. He's mad that you told him to spend time with Astoria and walked off without him. He's mad that instead of giving in to him, you made the bold decision to let his future wife entertain him for a while. You huff irritably, and begin storming down the staircase to be met at the bottom by the man of the hour.
"You're leaving?"
"Well, I thought you weren't showing."
"Am I late?” He says, checking his watch.
You stand at the foot of the stairs, staring at Draco, now out of his school uniform and in comfier clothes. He can see you're frustrated, but far too cautious to ask why.
"I saw you leave dinner early,” you then say, "so I just thought you’d be here already.”
"Well, I’m here now," he smiles lightly, "I just wanted a shower, that’s why I left early," he lies, "c'mon, lets go chill out for a bit."
He takes your hand, and without a second thought, you allow him to take you back up the stairs you just came down. Once at the top he pulls you over to the balcony, the night breeze causing you to shiver a little.
"You cold?" he asks gently, going to take his hoodie off when you stop him, grabbing the fabric. He gives you a questioning look, "what's wrong?"
"Leave it on," you demand softly, "I'm fine."
"Okay," he says slowly, not sure as to why you refused his jumper when you haven't in the past, "are you alright? You seem off."
"Oh, I don't know," you shrug dramatically, "you decide to not speak to me for the rest of the weekend and then show up offering me your clothes. But, it's fine. You carry on, Draco."
"Huh?" he raises an eyebrow, and you're already finished before you've started, rolling your eyes and leaning against the railing, "I thought you wanted me to leave you alone?"
"When did I say that?" you argue back, brows furrowed.
"You told me to go with Astoria," he says, and you can see how carefully he's choosing his words right now, "I figured that meant you didn't want to spend time with me."
You laugh breathlessly in disbelief.
"Are you serious?"
He looks incredibly sheepish.
"Yes?"
"Unbelievable," you mutter, and he scoffs.
"What is?" he questions irritably, "you're hard to read, you know. You tell me to spend time with another girl, what am I supposed to think?"
"For Merlin's sake, Draco," you raise your voice and hold out your arms, "I told you to go with her because I thought it was for the best, not because I don't want to see you. I convinced myself you were mad at me."
He's looking at you like you've just spoken in French to him.
"Mad?" he repeats, raising both his eyebrows now, "I'm not mad. I'm never mad with you."
"Then why have you been avoiding me?" you ask, voice softer and clearly sad. His heart sinks knowing you've been worried about upsetting him. He was hurt when you left him standing there, but he knows why you did it. He understands its hard.
"I just," he begins to say but gets a little lost. He wishes you still passed notes like before sometimes, "when you told me to go with Astoria, I thought you were trying to distance yourself," he looks towards his fiddling hands, "and I fucking hate that."
He wasn't wrong, you were trying to do that. You were trying to do the right thing, or the thing you were made to believe was the right thing. You sigh deeply before closing the gap between the two of you and taking his fiddling hands.
"Draco," you say softly, his full attention on you now, eyes glistening with that same adoration he always has for you, "I don't want to distance myself, but the reality is, we have to, just a little," his eyebrows furrow, "even if it's just meeting once a week-"
"No," he cuts you off, "why should we do that? I know things are difficult but I don't want to lose you."
"You're not losing me, Draco," you reassure him, squeezing his hands tighter, "I just think, considering how things are going, we need to learn to be without one another," you reach up and touch his face, all tension immediately leaving his body, "we both know this little world of ours can't last forever."
He leans into your touch, savouring it. No one makes him feel the safety that you do, and he curses his family and his bloodline for depriving him of this feeling. He feels your thumb rub his cheek, and goosebumps form on his arms. Never has he craved something like he does you.
"I'm sorry," he then whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm ruining everything."
"None of this is your fault," you tell him gently, "we can't help the families we come from. You're trying to honour them, even if you don't want to. You're a good man, Draco. You'll make someone very happy someday."
You can feel the tears at the corner of your eyes, chest tying in a uncomfortably tight knot. It was painful, all of this was painful, and you could see it in his eyes. Pain, frustration, turmoil.
"You're too good for this world, you know that?" he whispers, moving his hands to your waist and pulling you closer. You should push him away, but you don't, "and far too good for me."
"Don't be silly."
"I'm not," he presses his forehead to yours, "it's the truth. No matter what you say."
Absentmindedly, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. Your noses nudge again, and you think this is a repeat of the Quidditch pitch. He brushes his nose against yours. You do it back. It's just the two of you, with a slight breeze, and moonlight casting shadows in the tower. It's perfect. He's perfect, and he's leaning in, so close, almost there...
"Draco," you say quickly, pulling back from his embrace, "we can't. We can't keep doing this."
"Right, I'm sorry, sorry," he rambles, running a hand through his hair, "I just got carried away."
"It's fine," you say breathlessly, trying to compose yourself, "we just need to keep our distance a little more. That's all."
He nods. He agrees, but it's unfair.
"Yeah," he says, pacing, "sorry. I'm sorry."
"Stop, it's fine," you say again, moving closer to the railing to feel the cold night air against your clammy skin. He comes to stand beside you, hands on the cool metal before you. He's so pent up with frustration his knuckles are almost white.
"This fucking sucks," he murmurs, and you hum, "and now this shitty dance is happening. Someone really has it in for me. I think it's Aunt Bella."
You laugh through your nose lightly.
"I love dances," you say, looking out at the forest, feeling his gaze back on you, "the last one I went to was the Yule Ball."
"I wish I could say the same," he says gloomily, "my mother uses any excuse to hold a party. That way she can invite all of her favourite bachelorettes."
You look across at him. Such anger in one person, you wonder how he keeps it all in there. Just from his body language, the way he holds himself, you can see the peril he's in.
"Whatever happens," you smile softly, "I'm still here for you, you know that."
He smiles back. It's both sad and grateful.
"As I am for you," he says quietly, placing his hand over yours, "best friends forever, right?"
That makes your smile grow wider and his fondness for you only increases tenfold. He wants to make you smile like that for the rest of his life.
"Best friends forever," you repeat, looking back at him with glossy, soft eyes. Draco then has a thought so sudden it shakes him.
I think I love you.
You don't notice the change in his expression as you're simply playing with his fingers, but it hits him so hard it knocks the wind out of him. He's looking at you, all of you, from your head, to your intertwined hands, to your feet, and the thought only intensifies.
I think I love you. I think I love you.
He can't tell you. He swallows the lump in his throat and takes your hand, holding it tighter and regaining your attention.
"Just so you know," he tells you seriously, and you're all ears, "things would be a whole lot different if I had it my way," you take a sharp breath in, and he can see the tears threatening to spill, "I want you to remember that, alright?"
You nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Unable to say anything else, you let a tear slip. He moves like lightning to wipe it away, before giving in and breaking the rule you just made. You don't hesitate to hug him back, squeezing each other as if your life depends on it.
"After tonight," you whisper to him, sniffling, and Draco feels his own eyes water, "we'll just talk during school hours, okay? It's for the best, even if we hate it."
He doesn't answer verbally, but you feel him nod, head resting against yours. He knows it has to be this way, but it doesn't make it any easier. For the rest of your time in the tower, Draco holds you as close as physically possible, knowing that this very well might be the last time he gets to have you like this.
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As it just so happened, the next two weeks were such a whirlwind, that you barely had time to speak to Hermione, nevermind Draco. With homework coming out of your ears and the constant threat of finding a dress, the ball had almost lost its charm. By the time you had made it to Gladrags Wizardwear, you were wondering if it was all even worth it.
Draco had kept his distance from you, so much so that he even stepped aside when you walked by. It was like he couldn't even breathe near you anymore. A few friendly smiles and the odd small talk was about as good as it got. For the better, you tell yourself, all for the better.
"This one?" Hermione questions, holding up a lovely pale pink dress.
"For you, yes," you tell her, "but for me, a solid no."
"Really?" she knits her eyebrows together, "I think it would look nice on you."
She places it back in the rack and starts to shift through the other dresses on sale. Gladrags Wizardwear wasn't as packed out today as it had been, so you both decided to find an outfit for the ball later that week. Hermione seemed so excited, you didn't have the heart to tell her you weren't feeling up to it.
There wasn't much point if you had to watch him dance with someone else.
"Okay, you have to like this one," she said, looking awfully pleased with herself as she pulls out a silky blue dress. It hung perfectly from the hanger, and from your expression, Hermione knew she'd picked right this time, "shall we try it on?"
"Heavens, no," you breathe, "I couldn't afford that, just look at it. It's beautiful."
"So? Doesn't mean you can't try it," she tells you, already heading towards the dressing room, "we can always look for a cheaper one in Witch Weekly," she leans in a whispers, shoving the dress into your hands and your body into the changing booth.
You stare at yourself for a while in the long mirror. The dress was exquisite, such a pretty shade of blue and it fit in all the right places. It was perfect, but the price tag wasn't. You sigh, gliding your hands over the nice material. You wonder if Draco would like it, and then curse yourself. You hadn't realised how accustomed you had become to your meetings in the tower. Only last night you found yourself halfway down the corridor when you suddenly remembered; no one was waiting for you. It was like a second nature, going to see him when the night fell, but now you found yourself twiddling your thumbs. So, you asked for extra homework to make up the time, burying yourself in your work to numb the sadness you felt.
Why him, you think to yourself, why did it have to be someone like him?
"Are you ready?" you hear a muffled voice through the curtain, reminding you of where you were right now, "I want to see it!"
You bring yourself back to the room, taking a deep breath before pulling back the curtain to see Hermione. Her eyes widened, her mouth curling into a marvelous expression.
"Oh my goodness," she mutters, "I think that may have been made for you."
"You think?" you ask, suddenly feeling very exposed, "I'm not sure, it's tighter than what I would usually go for."
"Honestly, if you don't buy it, I will," she says, in all seriousness, "you have to get it."
You take the price tag and jab your finger on it.
"Have you seen this?" you whisper to her, "it's my entire banks worth."
"I'll do half?"
"Don't be stupid."
Just then the bell on the door rings, and in walks the last person you wished to see. She wondered in, as effortless as ever, with several other Slytherin girls. Hermione followed your gaze to her, noticing immediately your change in demeanour.
Astoria Greengrass was an undeniable beauty. Even without the trimmings, she was simply stunning. Her hair cascaded down her back in chocolate curls, natural eyelashes long and black, and eyes like polished emeralds. They shone, glinting in the gentle sunlight coming in through the window. Her smile was infectious, causing the other girls in the group to laugh along with her. She headed straight for the rack of green. Always a Slytherin. Her jet black fingernails grazed each dress. Any of them would do. Price didn't matter to her. Hermione turned back to you.
"Anyway," she tried to lighten the mood, "we can always look for a similar one in Witch Weekly like I said. How about it?"
"I think I'll just pass," you then say, clearly swallowing the lump in your throat, "I'll get changed and then we can go, yeah?"
Hermione just nodded, giving you a sad smile. She wasn't going to keep you there, not when Astoria was parading around. You slid off the dress, wiping a stray tear in the process. No doubt it would be her on Draco's arm at the weekend, perhaps in one of those searingly expensive green gowns. You carefully put the dress back on the hanger, and left without looking back.
Little did you know, someone was watching as you left the store and headed for the Three Broomsticks.
As the evening rolled in, you bid your farewell to Hermione and headed to your dorm for some peace. Dinner didn't sound that appetising, but sitting in your room as you moped most definitely did. Luckily for you, the common room would be empty at this time, so there was no obstacles to get in the way of feeling sorry for yourself.
Or so you thought.
The common room was empty, as you had presumed, apart from one boy that seemed to be pacing in the middle of it. You recognised him as captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Edward Chambers. As you entered, he stopped his pacing immediately, coming to holt and looking for who had walked in the door. For some reason, a splash of relief fills his features.
"Ah, there you are," he says, a smile curling at his lips, "I've been waiting for you."
"Excuse me?" you knit your eyebrows together. Edward appears to wipe his palms against his robes, before striding across the space to you. When he reached a comfortable distance, you noticed how utterly nervous he was. A unsettled feeling begins to swirl in your stomach.
"I hope you don't think bad of me," he begins, "I was planning this for a while but I'm afraid my nerves got the better of me," he chuckles nervously, and the feeling in your stomach intensifies as he waves his wand, flowers appearing out of thin air, "Y/N, if you have yet to find a date for the dance this coming weekend, then I would be honoured to take you. Will you be my date?"
Your voice gets stuck in your throat. Edward wasn't a stranger, but he wasn't a friend, either, just a boy that you knew from passing and sharing the same coloured robes. He was tall and well built from Quidditch, soft brown locks and set of lovely green eyes. It wasn't uncommon for him to get asked on dates, in fact he was rather popular with the girls. You would have never in a million years have expected him to take a liking to you.
Yet here he was, holding a beautiful bouquet of roses, almost shaking in anticipation.
"Edward," you breathe, clearly in shock, "I had no idea that you-"
"I've kept it quiet," he then rushes out, "and I should have approached you sooner, but I'm asking you now. I- I just really like you, Y/N."
It was all so sudden, that your head felt light and your legs like jelly. How could you say no? It'd be like kicking a kitten. You swallow thickly, thoughts of Draco rushing through your head as you stare at the pretty boy in front of you. 
"I, uh, need to think about it?"
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disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story
dividers from: @firefly-graphics & @happy-ash-edits
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pensat-i-fet · 8 months
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Support (John Stones x Reader)
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**I got a request to write for Stones and then @faye01mcfc​ gave me an idea of what to write about specifically. Also, I’ve only done it twice but I’m kind of into using just one word as the title. Enjoy reading!! ❤️**
Word count: 1621
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John had gotten used to winning trophies in the last couple of years but the treble felt much more special. And if there was someone he wanted to celebrate that achievement with, it was you.
Some of his teammates headed to Ibiza for a pre-celebration and he joined them. It was a good time, sure. But deep down, he couldn't wait to just be with you.
"You're back!", you said surprised and ran to the door to greet him.
"Yes. I got bored of my teammates and decided to come back a bit earlier".
"Don't get bored of me now, then".
"Never".
John was obviously tired after the last couple of days, so you just had some quiet time together.
"I'll make some dinner".
"Ok. Oh by the way, we have a lot of events tomorrow so I'll leave quite early. We can meet after the parade, right?"
"The parade?", you knew there would be one, of course. But just the thought of it made you feel cold sweat on your skin.
"I can't go", you said quietly.
"Do you have work?"
"No. I just…".
He let out a dry laugh. "I'm not surprised. You never come to anything with me. And I usually don't mind if football is not your thing but this is the most important moment of my career. And my girlfriend won't be there".
"It's just that…".
"Everyone gets support from their partners. But all I get is an empty seat to look at. Do you know how that makes me feel?"
"I'm sorry".
"Do you even care about me? Do you care about my career? Sometimes I wonder…".
"Of course I do, John".
"Then show it to me!"
"It's just…I…", you didn't know how to say the words. A part of you almost wished he was just mad at you. But he was disappointed and hurt. And that broke your heart. "You're right. You deserve better".
"Wait what?"
You picked up your jacket and bag and made your way to the door.
"What do you mean? Where are you going?"
"I can't be here right now. I'm sorry I keep hurting you. You deserve someone who supports you. Not me…".
"What are you trying to say? Just stay and we can talk. Don't go".
"I have to".
John just stared at the door wondering what had happened. Were you…breaking up with him? What was going on?
He tried to give you a couple of hours to do whatever you needed to do to clear your head but was also worried about anything happening to you.
All his calls went straight to voicemail and he was getting desperate not knowing how to contact you.
When his phone rang, he hoped it was you but it was an unknown number. He normally wouldn't answer but it could be you calling from another number or something, so he couldn't risk not answering.
"Hello?"
"John? I'm Alicia".
He was right to answer then. Alicia was one of your best friends.
"Do you know where she…?"
"She's here".
"Thank God. Is she ok?"
"Sort of? I mean, she's trying to keep it together but she keeps saying that it's all her fault whenever you call and she refuses to answer. So I got your number from her phone and called you without her knowing. She's taking a shower".
"Can I go there and see her?"
"Please. I hate seeing her like this. I know how hard it's for her to open up and she ends up hurting herself more".
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know. She struggles so much with talking about feelings and then there's her horrible social anxiety".
Now it all made sense. But why didn't you tell him?
"Yes. Don't tell her I'm on my way, please. I'll be there soon".
He went to his car and drove to Alicia's place. All of a sudden, he felt so nervous to talk to you.
You were always so supportive whenever he mentioned his insecurities after a bad match. But…didn't you think he could do the same for you?
"Come in. I'll go to my room, she's over there".
"Thank you".
Alicia nodded before leaving you two alone to talk.
"Ali? Who is it?"
"Me".
"What are you doing here?"
"Trying to find why my girlfriend ran away?", he laughed, nervously.
"It's all too much, John".
"Alicia told me without knowing she did".
You frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Your social anxiety? It's that why you don't come to matches or events or anything?"
You nodded, biting your lip and looking down, ashamed. "I'm sorry".
"For what? The only thing you did wrong was not telling me. I would have understood. I'm not going to force you to do something that hurts you".
"But it's stupid. I'm like a little child. Actually, it's gotten worse. I was better as a child".
John sat down next to you and held your hand. "I'm getting worse too, you know? I left Ibiza because the plan bored me. And there will be moments that bore me at the parade too. And look at Julián! He felt so uncomfortable celebrating on the pitch because that's hard for him too. You're not the only one who goes through that and your age means nothing in this case".
"But you deserve to be supported".
"You support me. It was really unfair saying you don't. You do it in the way you can and I appreciate it so much".
You were still not sure. "But you'd be disappointed if I don't go to the parade…".
He laughed and you noticed it was a nice laugh. He wasn't laughing at you.
"Well, now I know why you can't go, I'd rather you stay home, to be honest. I'll be so worried thinking about you being overwhelmed by all the people and all that".
"I'm still sorry".
"How about this? You skip the parade and come to the dinner afterwards. It's just the players and their families. No photographers or cameras. No drunk fans. Just drunk players but we can sit away from them".
You chuckled thinking about the players you would be avoiding then.
"I could try that".
"And if you feel it's too much, we leave".
"I'd like to do that".
"Yeah?", his big smile was contagious. So you smiled back and nodded.
After your talk, you both went back home and kept chatting about why it was so hard for you to deal with certain social interactions. John couldn't relate to all of it but understood your feelings anyways.
"I wish you had told me earlier", he said.
"I wish I had too. I'm always scared of people's reactions to hearing about it but you've been great since you found out".
So the next morning, it was time to get ready for a long day. You just had to go to work like any other day. But John had all these events he had to attend. He didn't struggle like you did but was definitely tired of all of it by the time of the parade. He just wanted to go to the team's dinner and see you. Hoping you would be fine.
He had warned some of his teammates and they understood. They weren't going to bother you much but would try to make you feel welcome.
"Hey! You look stunning!"
You smiled at John. It's true that you made a bit of a bigger effort. The whole process of picking up the outfit and doing your makeup helped you forget about your nerves for a while so that was nice too.
"Thank you. Should we meet everyone?"
He nodded, leading you to the first group of teammates.
"Oh wow, you actually exist. We thought John had made you up".
You laughed while John rolled his eyes. "He was clearly hiding her because of how beautiful she is", said another one of his teammates.
"Ok, enough of this group. Let's go meet the others".
"See? Hiding her again".
Their jokes made you loosen up a bit and by the time you had met everyone, you felt slightly better.
"Do you want to come with us to have a drink?", offered Kevin's wife and you pushed yourself a little further and said yes.
"Come back if it gets too much, ok? I'll be right here", whispered John when he leaned down to kiss your cheek. And after nodding, you joined the rest of the women.
"John told you to make an effort for me, right?"
"Yes, isn't it sweet? We were just happy to finally meet you".
"It's nice meeting you too", you said sincerely. "Hopefully, I'll be able to attend matches next season and we can hang out more".
"You're always welcome. Want another glass?"
You nodded and took the glass of champagne. You weren't really into drinking but it was helping you relax.
When you joined John again, he noticed how giggly you had gotten and frowned, curious about the change.
"Had a good time with the girls?"
"Yes, they were super nice. Everyone is super nice".
"Good", he nodded and then saw you grab another glass of champagne and drink it way too fast. "Wow! Easy! You're not used to that so don't try to outdrink Jack".
"I don't think that's humanly possible".
He laughed, holding the glass for a second so you could drink it more slowly.
"It does help a bit. To feel less overwhelmed".
"That's ok. But you can't just have a bottle of champagne every time you feel anxious", he laughed and you pouted.
"Party pooper".
"We'll work on finding what helps the best, ok?"
And you nodded, looking forward to having him help you face your problems.
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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 11 months
Text
𓅨 Shifting Wings: Chapter Three
Shifting Wings: Before the Raven Matthew, there was Jessamy, and Jessamy came with a little sister by the name of Adrienne. Dream adores his two little Ravens, but after over a hundred years of imprisonment and the death of Jessamy, Dream will find that he has not just lost his companion, but his beloved little Raven Adrienne no longer brightens the halls of his Palace. None of his staff wish to speak of where the Raven has gone, but the silent new resident of the palace is cause for question. After all, she was the one who aided in his release. If none of his subjects would help him find Adrienne, perhaps she could lead him to the whereabouts of the missing Raven. If only the woman wasn’t so flighty and hard to track down.
Warnings: None.
To Note: Morpheus/Dream x FemaleRaven!Reader, NAMED Reader (I like the name).
Word Count: ~2.0k
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You were fairly sure that Jessamy had caught on to what you were doing. It wasn’t like you were trying to hide it. You were very angry. You were also very hurt. You and Jessamy had started this journey in this strange new realm, together, and now she was going to be gone? Always at the side of the Lord and King of the realm? You were so angry, so angry indeed.
Twisting your way through a hall, you fluttered your way towards the back exit of the palace, doing everything you could to out fly your clever and faster older sister. You may not be as smart and wise as her, but you weren’t stupid and had your ways of giving your sister the slip. So you ducked out of the palace and swooped through the gardens that Mervyn cared for.
It was all too easy to get lost among the flowers and bushes, leaves and branches. You found yourself sitting on a bench overlooking a little pond with a fountain you didn’t quite understand how it worked. But it did drown out your explosive thoughts. Sighing, you looked down at your stick like bird legs and tapped the stone bench beneath you with your foot, trying to find the courage and will power to not be mad at Jessamy for her choice.
“Your sister is looking for you, little one,” Stiffening in place, your head snapped around as you hoped in place and went on the defense. A dark haired man was standing nearby, looking down at you with pretty eyes that flickered with stars. Your eyes dropped to the inner lining of his coat and you could have sworn that you saw the night sky within. He looked a lot like a certain king that Lucienne told you about.
“I don’t want to talk to her,” You softly rumbled out, facing the fountain once more and stamping your feet around nervously.
“Perhaps not,” Morpheus agreed, nodding his head in understanding before observing you further. Jessamy had described you as gregarious, brave, and compassionate. But she had also said that you were still immature due to your age, fussy at times, and headstrong. Quite the mix but intriguing none the less. Your parents had kept you forcefully sheltered for fear of you getting injured or worse, which led you to be on the rebellious side. “But have you given her a chance to speak of her reasons for accepting my offer?”
Your lip would have curled if you had one.
“It doesn’t matter, she is still abandoning me,” You growled out, snapping your wings shut with a huff.
“Jessamy, is an adult, Adrienne, and doesn’t she deserve to make her own decisions?” You grudgingly admitted to yourself that he had a point.
“So I’m just supposed to be by myself now? Alone!?” You snapped. “We’re dead and she’s all I have left and you are taking. Her. Away. From. ME!” You stared up at Dream of the Endless with a gaze that matched Jessamy’s intense one, and the being was sure you had no idea how alike in strength you were to your sister.
“You speak as if you will never see her again, it is not my intention to take her away from you. She can assist me in my duties, and in return I will give her peace of mind that nothing shall ever happen to you.” You blinked at him before a scowl blazed across your raven face and you stamped your little foot yet again.
“That’s almost worse!” You exclaimed with anger. Morpheus raised an eyebrow to you.
“It is a mutually beneficial agreement, Adrienne, and one that your sister made willingly.” The Endless pointed out, watching as the gears turned in your brain. You sighed. You were willing to relent to that, but you wanted everyone to stop treating you like a child.
“I’m not a child that needs to be coddled,” You grumbled beneath your breath, tapping your foot on cool stone. Morpheus could understand your view, but you still held an innocence that all who saw you could sense. As his raven, he was going to protect that. Protect you.
“Of course not,” He agreed before looking back at the palace. “Come, little one, I have something to show you that you might appreciate.” You eyed him with suspicion, before hopping forward and flapping your wings. As Morpheus began walking, you took to the air and followed him, wondering what he had to show you.
Jessamy had warned him that if you didn’t feel like you had a place or purpose, you very well may become a problem. He couldn’t have that. But he wasn’t going to let one of his ravens suffer. It was simple enough to change one of the empty rooms in the palace into one that you could make your own, and therefore stay out of his business. Keep you busy, keep you out of the way. So guiding you through the palace, Dream gestured for you to enter what would be your space. You entered and hovered in place for a few moments.
Scattered throughout the room was art supplies. Easels, paint brushes, pencils, canvas, graphite. It was an artists playground… but you had no hands. You swooped over to a table and landed before turning to Morpheus.
“This is all very nice, Lord Morpheus,” You stated dryly before flapping your wings in emphasis. “But I don’t have hands.” He arched his eyebrow challengingly at you.
“Oh? You give up so easily?” The narrowing of your eyes told him all he needed to know. Hook. Line. Sinker.
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1837, The Dreaming
Twisting your head and neck, you fluttered around the air while dragging your paintbrush across the canvas sitting on your easel. You were almost done with your painting of a clearing within Fiddler’s Green. It was your favorite place to visit you found and your enhanced memory and eyesight, not to mention your highly developed skill, you could replicate the view within your studio quite well.
Pulling back from the canvas, you dropped the paintbrush into your bucket of water and flapped your way to the perch in front of the easel to see how the painting was coming along. You had the background all done, and the line details you were currently working on, were almost done. There were just a few areas that you weren’t satisfied with.
You had already added the little sprites that had lingered in the background while you were scoping out the place. Even with one hundred years of practice you still had difficulty with fine lines, between using your beak and feet to grasp the paintbrushes, you were far from being a master… but you were pretty damn proud of what you could produce. Especially since everyone considered you to be the Palace artist.
“I am missing something, I know it.” You chittered to yourself, cocking your head side to side and moving around to get different views.
“Or you are simply overanalyzing your work, little one,” At the sound of Morpheus’s voice, you swiveled your head around to look at the dark and brooding dream lord.
“Well then why do I have a nagging feeling that it needs something else?” You asked, waving a wing at the painting. “If you are going to disturb me, you might as well be useful.” Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you and resisted the urge to snort.
“Useful?” He repeated, enjoying your lack of fear for treating him just like any other dream or nightmare you came across. Morpheus walked closer and examined the painting. He knew this exact clearing and found that you had captured it exactly as it was. “Adrienne I do not see why you wish to improve that which is already perfection.”
Grumbling and shuffling your wings, you looked back at your painting and struggled to see what he could, that you could not.
“It’s still missing something,” You muttered to yourself, in disagreement with your lords opinion. Morpheus’s lips twitched and he looked around your studio.
“When was the last time you left this studio?” He asked, already knowing the answer but wanting you to admit it. You shifted uncomfortably, before sighing indignantly.
“It’s been a couple of days,” You quietly admitted.
“As I expected,” Morpheus answered, turning on his heel and striding for the exit. “Come along, Adrienne. I am sure some fresh air will remedy your issue.”
It did no good to protest, because he would just summon you with his sand if you refused, so you reluctantly followed him. Morpheus led you out to the gardens, and then to the specific section that you were fond of. You fluttered over to the bench and touched down, stretching out your wings before neatly folding them.
“Okay, I’m out here and I still don’t know what’s wrong with it.” You said, looking at Morpheus.
“Nothing good comes from impatience, Adrienne.”
“Yes and by the time I figure it out I will be old and grey.” You complained as Morpheus took a seat next to you. “And why are you both still so annoyingly protective over what dreams and nightmares I talk to? It’s not like they’re going to hurt me…”
“Perhaps not physically, but your heart is still vulnerable.” Morpheus pointed out, thinking back to all the dreams and nightmares Jessamy had threatened bodily harm should they ever break your heart. Dream of the Endless included. He had taken quite a liking to you and Jessamy, observant as always, had zeroed in on that fact immediately. The Endless did have the reputation of falling in love quite quickly.
“Whatever your intentions are with my sister, if you break her heart I shall gladly break yours.”
His faithful companion had been dead serious when she spoke those words… but Morpheus did get the over protective ravens approval.
“And who exactly is going to break my heart, sir?” You fired back. “I don’t exactly have suitors lining up. Besides, who would want to court a bird!?” You flapped your wings in emphasis.
“And how many times must I tell you that you are a raven.” Morpheus corrected you. “And a very beautiful one too.” You huffed at his words.
“I miss my old body,” You stated loudly, waving your wings up and down yet again. “I miss holding hands and being able to smile and giving Jess a hug. I miss it so much, I miss touching people.”
“You are a raven now, Adrienne, it does you no good to long for what you cannot have.” That put a bitter taste in your mouth and you turned away from him. Yet another reminder that your life would never be the one you wanted. The one you craved. Dream could see the unhappiness on your face, but this was how things worked. How the rules worked. How Morpheus worked. Even when he knew that it made you incredibly sad. “Don’t let the past haunt you.”
You still refused to look at Morpheus, now somewhat angry. But then gentle fingers were tracing the opal splashed across your back and wings. You contemplated ruffling your wings and knocking his fingers from them, but it felt nice to have physical touch. Was it not what you craved?
“It is consuming you, little one,” Morpheus gently spoke, feeling your desire and envy to have what you once had. “So much that one might mistake you for a creation of my sibling.”
“I am nothing like Desire,” You snapped out over your shoulder, setting your black eyes on Morpheus with a glare. “Why would you liken me to them!?”
“Because you are letting your desire for your old life darken your beauty.”
“I’m a raven, Morpheus,” You pointed out while flaring your wings. He withdrew his touch as you did so. “I’m already darkened by the night, how could my wish for my old body turn me any darker?”
“There are far worse fates than becoming my raven,” Morpheus warned you, his fingers brushing the underside of your neck and tilting your head back to look him in the eyes. “Or is it so terrible that you’ve become miserable within this realm?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I am trying to keep you safe from those that might seek to hurt you.”
“I don’t need protecting!” You protested with a hop.
“You do not know of the dangers that lurk outside of my realm, Adrienne, and I will not see any harm come to you.” Morpheus explained, his eyes glimmering with stars. “I care too deeply for you to risk it.”
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Date Published: 5/17/23
Last Edit: 5/17/23
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