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hobidreams · 3 years

Text

june 1869.

you’ve never been able to hide from him.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?

The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.

You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.

“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.

“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”

The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.

Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”

“No, I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.

“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.

“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”

You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.

You took another step forward.

“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.

You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.

“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”

You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”

“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.

“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”

“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.

“We are leaving.”

He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.

All those years ago, you chose to stay.

You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.

Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.

“Su-uinyeo-nim?”

At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”

“The king has requested your company tonight.”

“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.

“Of course.”

The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”

Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.

“Dust. Really.”

You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.

The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.

Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?

“Get on the bed.”

Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.

His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.

“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”

His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.

What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.

“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”

Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.

Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.

While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.

Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”

“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.

It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.

Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.

As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.

It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.

“Um, j-jeon—”

He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.

The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.

“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”

So you do.

You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.

Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.

And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #ksmutclub #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts scenarios #historical au #moonlit throne #rain writes #one of my favorite chapters #how do you feel about the king now?

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 3 years

Text

☆.｡.:*touch me till midnight .｡.:*☆

Reader and harry on their honeymoon and they get a little freaky.. well a lot

Genre: smutty, NSFW(read at your own risk)

Warning: oral, blow job intercourse, dirty talking, sweet talking

Pairing: harry styles x reader

Word count: 3k

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission

Comment and reblogs welcome

Only press Read more if you're ready

Birds chipped outside your window, a cool breeze blew through making the curtain move, you laid in the king size bed waking up from your sleep. You and Harry had just gotten to Greece last night from your wedding. Of course your wedding was the most magical thing ever. You and Harry had tied knot and now you were Mr and Mrs Styles.

You both didn't waste anytime getting to Greece for your honeymoon. Harry had been holding off on intercourse, he thought he was going to make it far, but when he saw you in your killer wedding dress he was set on edge. Last night when you got to Greece you both went at it a couple of times even though it was the middle of the night. It was worth it and you both couldn't wait to make so many more moments worth it your whole honeymoon week.

"good morning darlin'." You turned around to the door to see harry walking in shirtless with a tray of food in his hand. "Good morning." You laughed sitting up against the headboard. Harry sat the tray over your lap, it was filled with orange juice, pancakes, waffles, eggs, and bacon. "I made it myself." Harry announced happily as sat down beside you.

"this is very nice harry." You leaned over kissing his check. "Thank you." "You're welcome. Well eat up because there's a lot we're going to do today. Going to go down to the water, take a deep 'n and then go Out shopping and for lunch. Maybe we'll go back to the water, but we'll see." Harry took a piece of bacon, popping it into his mouth. He got up right after he kissed your cheek. "I'm going to take a shower now."

He walked away to the bathroom sitting off of the room. An muffled okay came from your mouth due to the food that was currently in it.

You finished up Breakfast in less than 10 minutes. Harry was still in the bathroom when you finished, You decided to go and Join him.

You walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Harry wiped his hands over the foggy glass to see you. "What you doin wifey?" You snickered at his nickname for you. "I came to join you."

You pulled off His your shirt and panties. You tossed them on the floor, you climbed into the shower with Harry. The warm water ran down your body making you moan. Harry smirked as he watched you throw your head. Your wet breast came into his view, harry felt his dick rise a little at the sight.

You opened your eyes seeing Harry's on your chest. You smirked. "My eyes are up here Mr styles." Harry tore his eyes away from your chest, he was blushing like a teenager boy. "Sorry."

"don't apologize." You leaned in kissing him seducingly. Harry hand came to your back side, he grabbed your ass harshly pulling you against his hard. His tongue slipped into your mouth making you moan.

You pulled away from him panting. With a second to spare you got down on your knees. You took his member in your hand gently, you placed feather light kisses on it as you looked up at Harry. His mouth fell open and his hand went to the back of your head.

With your eyes still connected to Harry's you licked his tip tasting his precum. Harry let out a moan that was long and deep. You felt yourself get wet and it wasn't from the shower.

You took his length into your mouth, your tongue felt the salty, vainy feeling of his shaft. You moaned when he reached the back of your mouth. Harry watched as you let out a gag. He felt like he was on cloud 9 with that pretty mouth of yours.

You took your left hand as you emptied him out of your mouth. You stroked him looking up into his eyes. "You like that huh?" You spit on him before stroking him some more.

"yes love. Ya'mouth feels so good." He pushed the stray wet hair out of your face. You took him into your mouth again, you bobbled your head up and down him going extra deep. Harry moaned, sucking in his breath sharply. He felt himself twitch in your mouth. "Fuck, 'm going to come baby." Harry grunted out. You looked up at him, you watched his face change as you sticked out your tongue and touched his balls. That was enough to send harry over the edge. His warm seed filled your throat. You moaned at the salty taste but didn't stop your bobbing until harry was pushing you off.

You stood up and kissed harry. He could taste himself on your lips. "You're so good to me baby doll." He mumbled as he pulled away from your mouth briefly. "Yeah well be ready because I'm going to be good to you all week." You kissed him again and chuckled lowly with Harry.

☆.｡.:*

After yours and Harry's "shower" you both got ready and went down to the beach. Lucky for you both it was quite empty. You were the first to get into the water, It was pretty cool but not to cold.

Despite what you thought harry was a drama queen and thought it was cold. He kept snuggling into you and whining about the temperature. Eventually you got out with harry and decided to sunbath.

Your eyes were shut as the sun beamed down at you. You didn't notice harry looking at you with a smile as you did what you did. He was so in love with you and he was so happy you were his wife forever and always.

"harry you're staring.. again." You opened one eye and peered over at harry. He sighed shutting his book. "I know baby, ya' just beautiful."

"well thank you." You snickered before shutting your eyes again. That didn't last long because you opened your eyes to ask him a question. "You aren't hard again are you?" You looked down to his swimming trunks, sure enough the hot bastard had a tint in his pants. "Harry!" You whispered yelled. "Come on baby, we're on our honeymoon. And besides you look so fucking hot right now." He smirked as he leaned closer to you. You rolled your eyes and kissed him. Before harry can let it get heated you pulled away.

"we're going to enjoy our time at the beach. No sexy time." You shut your eyes going back to sunbathing, Harry's little pout didn't go unnoticed by you either.

Staying at the beach ended up lasting longer than you expected. Harry behaved, you got lunch, and also got in the water again. You were surprised he last another hour at the beach, but when you got back to your suite he wasn't no time.

His hands held your thigh up as he pressed you against the door. You felt him press against your wet swim wear. Harry pulled away "Let's take this off."

You pulled off your wet bikini, tossing them to the hardwood floors. Harry did the same with his swim trunks. taking your hand harry pulled you into the bedroom. He pushed you down on the bed making you giggle. Harry laughed as well as he climbed over you. He kissed you, his slight moans making an appearance. His hands made their way from your waist to in between your thighs. He ran two of his finger through your slick fold making you moan. "Harry please fuck me." You mumbled against his lips as he pulled away. "Be patient doll."

Harry sat up and took his cock in his hand. He was long and no matter how many times you took him it always made you nervous.

Harry pressed his tip into your fold, he went up and down for a few seconds before he he pressed into you. As he sinked further and further you let out a moan, toes curling in the process.

Once harry was further enough in your dripping cunt he began to thrust into you. It picked up in no time as you both adjusted. The room filled with both of your moans.

Harry hammered into you as he held your legs apart. You fluttered around him as you felt him hit your g spot over and over again. "Fuck harry, I'm going to come." "Come for me baby."

Harry leaned down and kissed you to drown out your moans as you came. Harry wasn't far behind, he came deeply in you.

He kept kissing you until you both were down from your high. Harry pulled out of you and plopped down beside you. His chest rose and fell just like yours.

"that was amazing." Harry turned to his side looking at you with a grin. "Yeah it was." You turned over kissing him. "Now let's take a nap until dinner time. What do you say?"

Harry hummed yes, he pressed a kiss against your head, shutting his eyes letting sleep take over his body.

The 5 store dining place harry had picked out for the night was lovely. You got a room in the back where no one was, it had a nice view of the glowing city in the background, pretty lovely. You and Harry chatted of course, harry about his upcoming music and you chatted about your business and how you couldn't wait to put out more ideas. The night went smoothly all the way through dinner.

After dinner you and harry walked back to your room. Harry couldn't help but put his hands on you; even after so much sex this man couldn't get enough.

"harry I have to open the door, stop kissing my neck."

You groaned as you pushed the key into the door. Harry chuckled as kissed your neck one more time and then pulled away. You finally opened the door letting yourself in.

Before you can even get a word out your back was up against the door with Harry's arms caging you. You looked up at the green eyed man who now had a grin on his face. "Why are you always Horny Harold?"

"I don't know, but I think it's because you're extremely hot today." "We had sex twice today."

Harry sighed, "I know but I still haven't got a chance to eat that sweet pussy." Harry voice came to a whisper when his sentence finished.

You growled at his words before you kissed him hungrily ready to give him what he wanted.

It was only the first day of your honeymoon, but you both have had a really decent amount of sex already. That week was going to be crazy and you both were ready for it.

---

I didnt read any of this so if there's any mistakes let me know

#harry styles x reader #Harry styles #Harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles smut #Harry styles x you

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

The best of friends pt3

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: So it turns out that you do have other friends. Who would’ve guessed?

A/n: Hello! So.. because i don’t feel like writing the whole fight scene, the events of homecoming already happened before the actual dance and Liz is moving after the school year ends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Am I dreaming or is that you Jason Todd?”

“Yeah its me, don’t cream your pants.”

You laugh, running to embrace your friend, and he catches you spinning you around then putting you down.

“What are you doing here?” You ask breathlessly, “Doesn’t your dad hate leaving Gotham?”

“Well he had a meeting with your dad today, so we made him bring us.”

“Ohh, so that’s the meeting dad didn’t want to go to” You think.

“You’re brothers are here?” You look around for the boys, but not seeing any.

Jason laughs, “Just Tim and Damian, I kind of ditched them at the Tower, I think I would’ve gone crazy if I stayed another second.”

“Aw, were you expecting me to be there?” You tease, grinning wide as the boy turned a light shade of red.

“Oh please, if you were there I think I’d die of boredom” He teases back, a matching grin growing on his face. But before you can answer back you hear Mj shout at you.

“Y/n! Are you gonna keep flirting or can we go on some rides?”

“Yeah Iron baby, are you gonna keep flirting?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, despite your protests you know he’s not going to stop calling you that.

“Hey you’re not here with anyone are you?” “Um no why?”

You grab his hand and pull him towards Mj and Ned, who were looking at the both of you in shock.

“You’re Jason Todd..” Ned says, surprised to see him here.

“Uh..hi” Jason responds, not knowing what to say.

“Jay and I are friends” You say, “ We hang out at the galas and judge people.”

Jason laughs, “That is not what we do.”

“Oh? So then why do you mean mug people from the corner of the room?”

Mj and Ned make eye contact, having a silent conversation as you and Jason banter.

“So, you’re one of Y/n’s ‘friends that don’t live in the city’?” Mj asks, eyeing Jason and you.

He slings and arm on your shoulders, “ Is that what you call us Y/n?” He turns to Mj to respond but before he can answer Peter and Liz finally make an appearance.

“Oh so you two finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Mj drawls

“Sorry guys, I really wanted this Spiderman plush and Peter was trying to win it for me” Liz says with a giggle. Peter blushes, not taking his eyes off Liz.

You frown at the sight. Frustration growing in your head, this was supposed to be your day with Peter. And now it was ruined.

“You spent over an hour trying to win a little doll?” You said bitterly, making everyone stare at you.

“Ah come on iron baby, we all know those games are rigged.” Jason says from beside you. You tear your eyes away from Peter and Liz, “Rigged or not, I bet I can win a prize before you, Jay-Bird”

“Oh is that a bet?” “Um yeah, I literally just said that.” “Okay fine!”

Then you and Jason are off, running towards the nearest booth that gives out prizes.

“Umm, who was that?” Peter asking, looking in the direction you ran off.

“That was Jason Todd” Liz responds, “ You know, Bruce Wayne's son.”

“What was he doing with his arm around Y/n?” he asks with a frown.

“Well apparently they’re friends, he just showed up. We didn’t even notice him until we saw him spinning Y/n around like a washing machine.” Ned says with a laugh.

“What, so they’re like...close?” Peter asks. Mj and Ned look at each other.

“Um I guess...” Ned says hesitantly.

“Well, I for one, haven’t heard Y/n talk as much as she has been now.” Mj says, a knowing look on her face. Peter made a face, not understanding what Mj was talking about.

“That's true” Liz adds in, “She’s pretty quiet, it’s kinda weird.”

“Well to be fair you two haven’t been exactly talking to her.” Ned defending you, “ She opened up quite a bit after she got comfortable.”

“Yeah, besides, Peter is the one who she knows the best, I wouldn’t be comfortable hanging out with people I just met.” Mj says, glancing at Peter.

Peter didn’t know how to feel. At first he was psyched to be spending time alone with Liz. He didn’t even think about how you would feel when he invited her and his friends on your shopping day. This whole day he was trying to get closer to Liz, he forgot that you hardly knew Ned and Mj. But it was okay, you gained two new friends, and now Peter has a chance with Liz.

He looked at Liz,

“She looks so pretty” He thinks, but deep in his mind, a voice kept bringing up an image of your face.

“Oh shoot” Liz says, “ Hey guys, my mom is here to pick me up.”

“I’ll walk you to the car!” Peter shouts, startling Mj and Ned.

‘Okay thanks Pete!” Liz says, wrapping an arm around his. Peter turns back to Ned and Mj with a grin.

Ned winks back and Mj just rolls her eyes, going to find you and Jason.

As Peter and Liz walk, he starts to get nervous. This whole day he has been alone with her, but now...now he has to leave an impression.

“I had a lot-” “It was really coo-”

The two laugh

“You go first” Peter says.

“It was really cool of you to invite me, I had a great time.” Liz says with a smile. Peter grins, happy that she had a good time with him. and his friends.

“Yeah? I’m glad, I had fun too.”

They finally make it to the parking lot where Liz’s mother is waiting. Liz’s face suddenly looks nervous.

“Hey Peter,” Liz turns to Peter, “ Do you have a date to homecoming?”

Peters breath hitches, “Um..no-no why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

He...he isn’t as excited as he thought he’d be. In fact, this was kind of anti-climatic.

“Y-yeah, of course!” Peter says forcing enthusiasm. Liz’s face brightens and she smiles, pulling Peter into a hug.

“Awesome! I’ll text you with the details later?” She asks, pulling away to get into the car.

“That sounds great” Then without warning, Liz grabs Peters face and gives him a quick peck.

“I’ll see you later Peter Parker.” and with that, she hopped into her mom's car and drove away. Peter stood there, hand on his mouth looking at the spot Liz stood.

For some reason..he didn’t feel as happy as he should’ve.

“What is wrong with me?” He asked himself. He shakes his head and turns around. Ready to walk back to where he last saw his friends.

Turns out, they were all at a booth near the parking lot. And saw the whole thing.

“Dude!” Ned said running up to Peter, “Liz Allen just kissed you! You’re going to HOMECOMING with Liz Allen!”

“Yeah..I am” Peter says, forcing excitement for his friend,” I can’t believe it.”

“Dude! You’ve been pining over her for YEARS! “ Ned shouts, “ You did it!”

Meanwhile, Mj is rubbing your arm in comfort as you hold back tears. You saw everything. Peter really didn’t like you the way you thought. You felt defeated, betrayed even. All those moments...they meant nothing to him. Every moment you held close to your heart.

“Hey, are you alright Y/n?” Jason whispers, sensing your sadness.

“um..no not really...” you whisper back, feeling a tear run down your face. Jason wipes it away before you could.

“Hey, come on lets get you something to drink.” He pulls you away from Mj with a nod. But before he could get far, Peter called out

“Y/n..are you okay?”

You don’t say anything, your back turned to him so he doesn’t see your face.

“She’s not feeling too hot, I’m gonna get some water and food in her, see if she perks up” Jason responded for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Peter looks at the arm, “I can do that” He steps closer to you but before he can touch you, you speak up.

“Don’t touch me, I want Jay to take me.”

And with that, Jason adjusts his grip on you and walks you to a food truck. Leaving behind a disheartened Peter.

You sit on a bench as Jason orders you some food. Alone, you’re able to gather your thoughts and think about what just happened.

“Did Peter really not like me? If he didn’t why did he act so flirty with me?”

It made you mad. It wasn’t fair that he made you feel special then dropped you as soon as someone else came along. He ignores you all day for her, then acts innocent? Screw that.

“Here you go, one greasy ass burger and a bottle of water. We dine like true kings.”

Jason plops down next to you, “So are you gonna tell me whats wrong or what?”

You scoff, “ Wow, you sure have a way with the ladies.”

“Whatever.” the raven haired boy rolls his eyes, “ So what’s up? Is it that Peter kid?”

You sigh and explain everything. From when you first met Peter to now. After you were done, Jason stayed quiet. Digesting what you just told him and trying to find the right words to say.

“Fuck him.” He says simply.

“What?” You say surprised at his comment.

“Fuck. Him” He repeats looking you in the eye, “ Why are you going to waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you? It’s his lose anyway.”

You stay quiet, not exactly knowing how to respond.

Two of you eat in silence, watching parents run after their children, and take in the atmosphere.

“Hey.. we never did finish our bet.” Jason says, standing up.

You look up at him, a small smile forming on your face. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

“Well come on, I don’t have all day.” He holds out his hand, refusing to look at you. You take it, interlocking your fingers.

You walk in silence, faces red but its comforting. It was nice to see this side of Jason. When the two of you see each other, you both have a this fake persona for the media. You couldn’t truly show who you really were. You only caught glimpses of each others true self when you’d sneak away from the crowds. You both hated those stupid galas Bruce threw. Your dad would force you to go so he wouldn’t be alone, and Jason had to go as Bruce Waynes son.

A match made in heaven.

“Here we are.” Jason says, releasing your hand. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?”

“Oh you wish Todd.”You scoff, walking up to the man running the booth.

“Hello little lady, three bucks for a three chances.”

You hand him the money and get the balls. It seemed simple enough, toss the balls, knock down the clowns, win the prize.

You wind your arm back, and throw the ball with all your might. You end up knocking down two out of the five clowns down. You go again, getting the other three.v

“You got a good aim little miss. What can I get for ya?”

“The Iron man please.” You hear Jason scoff from his place behind you, “ Oh, is someone a little salty he lost the bet?”

“Whatever princess, it was pure luck.”

“Luck? or years of training with an expert marksman?” You say referring to the times you trained with Clint.

“Whatever.” He says rolling his eyes.

“Aw come on Jay bird, don’t be so salty.” You coo, “ Here, something to remember me by.” You hand him the Iron man with a smirk. He takes it with a sigh, trying to hide the smile forming on his face.

“Yeah yeah, come on let's go play that booth with the balloons.” He takes your hand, dragging you to the booth.

It turns out to be a game with water guns. You both race to make the balloon pop. Jason wins at this game

“Ha” He says turning to you with a smirk. “ Aw, come on Princess, don’t be so salty.” He turns to attendant “ yeah can i have the Red Hood, thanks”

He hands you the Red Hood doll, “ Here, something to remember me by”

You roll your eyes, “ Don’t you use my words against me.” You take the doll, looking it over, “ Hey, why the Red Hood?”

Jason freezes, as you caught him in a lie or something. “Uhh, cause...he’s from Gotham, and so am I...”

You squint at him, finding his response weird, “Um, okay?”

He looks relieved with your acceptance. Weird.

He takes your hand again and you both walk around, catching up on stuff you’ve missed in the months you haven't seen each other. While you were talking, you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of light from the corner of your eye.

Oh well.

“Hey guys, over here.”

You both turn to see Ned and Peter.

“Hey, where’s Mj?” You ask as the two boys walk up to you and Jason.

“She had to leave, her dad picked her up a few minutes ago.” Ned replied, “We were coming to look for you guys.”

“Oh, are you ready to go?” You asked, “ Is anyone picking you up Ned?”

“Nah I’m spending the night at Peters, we’re gonna watch Star Wars.” He says excitedly.

Jason snorts, and you elbow him in the stomach, “ I happen to like Star Wars very much. And even if I didn’t, don’t be a dick to my friends.”

“Sorry man, you just reminded me of my...brother, Tim. Sounds like something he’d like.” Jason says apologetically.

“I’m friends with Y/n Stark..” Ned whispered.

Peter was quiet, he hasn’t said a word since he saw you and Jason laughing together. His mood worsened when he saw your intertwined hands.

“So, you’re feeling better.” Peter states, avoiding your eyes.

“Um, yeah...guess I just needed some food in me.” You mutter. An awkward silence coming over the group.

“Hey are we going to ride the subway? It sucks going on there at night.” Ned says breaking the silence.

“Is it? I know I hated walking around at night back home.” Jason says with a frown.

“Yeah man, my mom had to work late one night and she said she saw two homeless people getting it on.”

The four of you cringe at the thought.

“I’ll call Happy” You say pulling out your phone. You walk away, letting go of Jason's hand.

The three boys are left alone, not exactly knowing what to say to each other.

“So...how do you know Y/n?” Ned asks

“Oh uh” Jason goes to say how he knows you when he stops, he noticed how Peter’s mood seemed to worsen when he saw him with you.

“Me and Y/n ditch galas together.” He says, “ We sneak into my room and...play games.”

Peters face darkens, “Play games?”

“Yeah, you know”

“No. I don’t.”

“Interesting..” Jason thinks to himself

“Like poker and shit”He replies, “ She’s shit at it, but i like seeing her get all happy when she wins so I let her.”

Peter smiles, knowing how happy you get when you win at games. Then frowns, knowing that Jason has seen you the same way he has.

“Hey, whos that?” Ned asks, “ He’s been looking at Y/N for a while now.”

Peter and Jason whip their head towards where Ned was pointing. Low and behold, there was a guy staring at you. You, too busy on your call with Happy, weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

The guy looked like a creep. His eyes roaming your body as if you were a piece of meat. It was disgusting. But before Peter could do anything, Jason was already striding towards you.

Now, Peter was strong, but he wasn’t too intimidating out of his suit. But jason? Jason was massive, even for an eighteen year old. He was tall, very well built, and just had this dark aura around him.

Peter didn’t like him.

Meanwhile, you were chatting to Happy about the where you were, apologizing for calling him so last minutes.

“Thanks so much Happy, I’ll see you right now.”

“Yeah yeah.” He hangs up. You chuckle putting your phone back into your purse. Looking up you see Jason striding towards you.

“Hey i just-” He cuts you off, harshly slamming his arm above your head and leaning in close.

“Theres a man staring at you.” He whispers, “ Right over there.”

You follow his gaze, seeing the man who has a frightened expression. Jason was sending a death glare his way that could have frightened Batman himself. The man scurries off without a second glance.

Jason gently thumps you on the back of your head, “See what happens when you stand there like a space cadet.”

‘Oh..I was?”

Peter and Ned walk up to the two of you

“Y/n, you have to be more aware when you’re by yourself.” Peter scolds.

“He’s right, or its going to be your own damn fault when someone kidnaps you.”

“Oh right.” You say standing up straight and alert. Jason rolls his eyes.

“We said when you’re alone.” “Right.” you say still alert.

“You don’t have to worry about it when you’re with me, you can space out whenever you want.”

“Oh? You gonna protect me Jay-bird?”

Jason just smiles, not responding as he looks away from your face.

“So, is Happy coming or what?” Peter asks rudely, taking you by surprise. He’s never talked to you like that before.

“Um..yeah he’s on his way.” You respond, “ He should be here in a few minutes.”

Peter nods. Yet another uncomfortable silence falls on the group.

You start walking to the entrance, and without a word the boys follow you.

You don’t get it, first Peter ignores you all day and now he’s mad at you? What the hell is he playing at?

“So I’m assuming you’re staying at the Tower?” You ask Jason, “ Your dad would be blowing up your phone if you weren’t.”

“I turned it off” Jason says with a smirk, “ I’m sure they’ll be alright.”

You laugh at his antics, knowing that he’s gonna get an earful when he gets back. Then. from the corner of your eye, you see Peter roll his eyes and glare at Jason. Ugh, what a weird day.

Finally Happy, shows up. You pile into the car, a tight fit with all four of you, but you make it work.

The tension in the car is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Happy doesn’t even make any comments, he just drives to Peter’s house to drop him and Ned off. As soon as he gets there, he jumps off the car as if something bit him. Going into the building without a goodbye. Ned just awkwardly smiles and says bye, then follows Peter into the apartment.

“Okay...That was weird.” Happy says, “What happened? Usually the kid won’t shut up.”

“I have no idea. He’s just being a dick I guess.” You respond sourly. Looking out the window, signaling that you were done with the conversation.

You finally get home, exhausted physically and emotionally. As you ride the elevator, you think about today's events. So much has happened today it makes your head spin. You were,’t even paying attention when you got to your floor, Jason having to nudge you to get you to move.

“Jason.”, you hear a deep voice rumble. You look up at the sound and giggle

“Looks like you’re in trouble Jay-bird.” “Shut up, please.”

You laugh again, “It’s lovely to see you again Mr. Wayne, are you staying at the Tower tonight?”

“Hello Y/n” Bruce says, “ It seems so, seeing as my son has been missing all day and we’ve missed our check in time.” He glares at Jason.

“Aw come on Bruce, we’ll all have a sleepover, bread each other’s hair and tell secrets” You dad says coming out of nowhere. He pecks the top of your head.

“Hey kid, how was it?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started” You say rolling your eyes, “ How was the meeting?”

“Ugh don’t even get me started.” Then he turned to Jason, “ Hey, didn’t know you were a fan.”

You laugh, knowing he’s referring to the plush you won for him. “Where’s the rest of the boys?”

“Damian fell asleep and Tim is in your fathers lab tinkering.” Bruce responds, “ I was about to head to bed.”

“Oh me too, I’ve had quite the day.” You hug your dad, “ Night pops.”

Then you turn to Jason, “ I had fun today Jay, thanks. Good night Mr. Wayne.”

And with that, you walk off to your room, desperate to shower and sleep this day away.

“So, care to explain why your phone was shut off?”

Yikes, poor Jason.

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker imagine #tony stark x daughter!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel and dc #crossover #fanfic #reader insert

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help.

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word.

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose.

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder.

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down.

He started.

Pushing.

Them.

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you.

You don't have think.

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain.

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away.

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change.

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder.

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

Kim Seokjin was furious.

Furious!

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling.

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you.

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly.

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high.

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again.

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles.

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that.

You thinned your mouth into a line.

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate.

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on.

He was a cat.

(Man.)

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste.

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well.

Not your preferred thick white drink.

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you.

"Show me how to sew."

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following.

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man.

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So.

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety.

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that?

No. You were too busy thinking about dick.

His dick.

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now.

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor.

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you.

Fuck.

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive.

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time.

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything.

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea.

Jungkook laughed to himself.

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept.

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body.

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look.

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat.

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm.

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor.

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction.

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well.

Yoongi looked into your eyes.

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic.

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well.

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity.

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it.

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look.

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears.

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help.

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

part v

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Egg the Cat

Chapter 2

Read on Ao3

Nancy flinched as an engine revved, a sleek blue muscle car pulling into the lot.

Steve let himself focus on it. It was better than dwelling on his fucking essay, his impending shitty night spent with Barb’s parents, like he didn’t feel horrible enough about that whole situation.

He watched the car pull into a space at the front of the lot.

California plates.

“Who’s that?” Steve could picture Nancy wrinkling her nose as she said it, too focused on Billy getting out of his car to turn and see it for real.

He narrowed his eyes at a young redhead getting out of the passenger side.

Billy hadn’t said anything about a sibling.

“That’s Billy. I met him last night.” He finally looked back at Nancy as Billy set off towards the school. “He found Egg downtown.”

Nancy’s eyebrows flew nearly to her hairline.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I forgot. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, Billy got her safe and sound. Still don’t know how she got out, though. Let alone made it all the way downtown.” He locked his car as they headed towards the high school, the warning bell sounding through the parking lot.

He reached for Nancy’s hand, his heart soaring when she let him take it.

Sometimes she said his hands were too clammy.

He walked her to her first class, kissing her softly by the door.

Billy glared at the tiny brunette sitting in front of him.

Steve hadn’t said anything about having a fucking girlfriend last night.

And really, Billy should’ve known. He’s a hot guy, living in a town of not a lot of hot guys. It makes sense some girl would snap him up.

It just felt like a slap in the face.

It’s not like Billy thought he actually had a chance with Steve, but now all of his daydreams, any of his dirty thoughts featuring one Steve Harrington were gonna be tainted, by this prissy fucking bitch.

Billy just spent all of his AP biology lecture boring holes into the back of her head.

He didn’t really give a fuck if people noticed, thought it was weird. He was too busy channeling all of his anger, all of his hatred onto this skinny little priss.

He hoped she could feel it, like maybe his anger gaze gave off palpable heat or something.

Based on how many times she stuck her hand up to answer every question posed by the teacher, no, she couldn’t feel the heat of Billy’s rage.

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, only to find they shared all three of their morning classes.

Because fuck Billy.

And then he had to watch, had to stand there like a stupid gay fucking idiot as Steve lifted nancy off her feet, and made out with her against her locker.

He stomped past, hoping to go unnoticed by-

“Billy!”

Fuck.

He stopped dead in his tracks, taking a few deep breaths before turning, plastering his best I am so charming and I don’t hate your girlfriend for no reason smile on his face.

Steve was all sunshiney again today. Billy mentally kicked the little voice in his head saying that sunshine is for you.

“Hey, man! How’s your first day going?” Steve had his girl tucked under his arm. She looked like a frail little bird. Billy hoped Steve’s cat ate her for breakfast one day soon.

“Well, you got mad at me last night when I called this place a shithole, so I’m just going to heavily imply it.” Steve laughed, his head tipping back a little, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Billy tried to think about his dad, tied to think about the shelf bruises on his back.

And then Steve was pressing a sheet of paper into his hand, and their fingers fucking brushed and Billy tried, tried to think of a broken arm and cops at his house, and not holding fucking hands with Steve Harrington.

He studied the paper, just to look somewhere that wasn’t Steve’s eyes. A lighter shade of brown in the fluorescent lights, a shade bordering on green.

Come and get sheetfaced.

“Hawkins parties will probably be lame compared to what you’re familiar with, but I mean, it should be fun.” Billy just nodded, eyes trained on the little ghost. “We’ll be there. Nancy and I.” Nancy. That’s a stupid fucking name. “Y’know, if you aren’t too cool for us by then.”

Steve was smirking at him a little when Billy finally looked up.

“I’m already cooler than you, Harrington.” Fuck. It sounded way meaner than Billy had wanted, sounded actually rude, not like a little ribbing. Not like a little tongue-in-cheek reference to last night. Cold shit.

But then Steve tossed his head back, and he laughed, a full belly laugh, and he clapped Billy on the shoulder, and Billy has never felt gayer in his entire life.

“Harsh, man. Real harsh. Wait ‘til I tell Egg you said that, she’ll never want to see you again .” And Steve was still smiling at him, and he had maybe, alluded to Billy seeing his cat again, which meant seeing Steve outside of school, and Nancy was looking down the hall, like this conversation was below her pay grade, and Billy wanted.

“See, that’s why I’m cooler than you. I don’t go telling my cat all my lame drama.”

“That’s because you don’t have a cat,” Steve said playfully, his face falling a bit. “Wait, you don’t have a cat, do you?” Billy shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And Steve smiled at him, and the bell rang, and Nancy rolled her eyes before pressing herself out from underneath Steve’s arm, and Steve’s big sweet eyes snapped onto her.

“I’ve got to get to Calculus.” Billy’s heart sank. They shared four classes so far.

Steve just leaned down to kiss her, one hand cradling the side of her face. Billy looked away.

“I love you.” He had to suppress a snort as Nancy said it back, her voice all pitchy and off.

But Steve reached out to clap Billy on the shoulder again.

“I better see you tonight!” And he was off down the hall, and Billy, once again, made a point not to look at his ass.

“You gotta be home by nine-thirty, okay, Shitbird?” Max rolled her eyes again.

“Billy, I know what time I need to be home by.”

“Just making sure, because you know if you don’t make curfew, I’m somehow gonna be blamed for it.” Billy had only gotten out of playing babysitter this evening when Max had nearly thrown a full tantrum at the idea of trick-or-treating with adult supervision while she’s trying to make friends.

She just looked at him sharply, her lips pursing a bit.

“I’ll be home.” Her voice had an edge to it. Billy didn’t really know how to take it.

“Be safe.” She didn’t acknowledge him, just got out of the car, a little Michael Myers heading into the swarm of children.

He pulled down the road, the party address only a few blocks from where Max was meeting her friends.

He slammed a beer the minute he entered the party, didn’t want to be sober for a second of this shitfest.

Steve had been right. This party didn’t hold a fuckin’ candle to what he frequented down in Cali.

He tried to make the best of it, beat the keg stand record, found some stupid jocks that were more than happy to parade around him all night.

He just had to get to that sweet spot, drunk enough he would actually get hard with a girl, but not too drunk he’d get whiskey dick. He didn’t need that to be his reputation in this shitty town.

He was being pulled through the crowd by some freckly fucker dressed as the guy from Karate Kid. Max had made him take her to that movie six times in the theaters. Billy had slept through it every time.

He was feeling pretty okay, the beer settling into his system, giving him a warm buzz as he studied the party. Maybe he could find some punk kids, score some weed or-

Steve Harrington.

The karate guy had shoved him in front of Steve, had said, guess who’s the new Keg King, Harrington?

Steve was glaring at the guy, drawn up to his full height, shoulders squared, all of that melting as he turned to Billy, smiling warmly at him.

Fucking sunshine.

“Nice job, Dude!” And Steve took Billy’s hand, and he pulled him into a one-armed fucking hug.

Billy was absolutely stunned. Maybe a little bit hard as he pat his hand against Steve’s back. Felt his muscles moving under his jacket.

But then Steve pulled back, his eyes trailing after his fucking girlfriend, and he was gone, followed her into the kitchen.

Billy wanted to tear out his fucking hair.

He went the opposite way as Steve, pushing through the sweaty crowd.

He really didn’t need to see Steve coddling his girl.

He shoved his way into the backyard, vaulting the low fence on the porch, making his way out of the yellowed light spilling out of the house.

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it quickly.

Fucking idiot. You knew you couldn’t have any fucking boy in this goddamn town.

But Billy had come into this town really not expecting any boy to actually catch his eye.

Not like Steve has.

Steve with his stupid big eyes, and his stupid big hair, and his stupid cat named fucking Egg. Who names a cat Egg? That’s a dumb fucking name.

Billy lit his next cigarette with the dying remains of the last one.

He thought about calling it quits, heading home early.

But it wasn’t even ten yet, and really, he needed to fool around with a chick tonight. He needed to establish himself as a lady killer.

Sleep with one girl, and the rumors would build enough that he probably wouldn’t have to fuck any others, just not deny it when any girl claims they had a wild night of passion.

It was safer that way. Gave him some cushion.

Then, if any of the lies began to unravel, he’ll just fuck another one, and let the rumor mill do its trick.

Besides, he can find a brunette, make her take it from behind. If he’s lucky, the party’ll be loud enough he can tune out her moans, picture someone else, picture him -

The backdoor slammed against the wall as someone stomped outside.

Billy just took another deep drag, hoped he wouldn’t be noticed.

But, of course-

Steve didn’t even ask, just took the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth, taking a long fucking drag.

He rolled his shoulders, let his head fall back, blowing the smoke out towards the sky.

“Y’know, I fucking quit smoking because of her. Not like I did it a lot, but still .” Billy just stayed quiet. He really didn’t want to talk about Steve’s fucking girlfriend. “Because I actually cared .” Oh, now wait a minute.

“What happened?”

Steve shot him a dark look.

“You weren’t inside?”

Billy just gestured to the cigarette Steve was now sucking on once again. Billy kept his focus on Steve’s left earlobe. Didn’t care to get a semi just from looking at his lips.

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Does repeatedly being called bullshit and having her tell you she doesn’t love you count as a lovers’ quarrel?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Steve tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. Billy didn’t know what to say.

What he wanted to say was you ever sucked dick? And then maybe take Steve’s mind off of everything by fucking his face, but that felt a little forward, felt a little gay.

“ Fuck .”

Oh, shit.

Steve was fucking, Steve was gonna cry. Standing outside with Billy, barely lit by the light filtering through the small frosted bathroom window.

“ Next week .” Steve’s voice cracked. “We would’ve been together one year next week. And she was pretending .” Steve slumped back against the wall, his face buried in both his hands. “I, I changed everything for her. I stopped seeing my friends because she didn’t like them, I stopped smoking because she said it was gross, I changed who I am as a fucking person. And you know, granted, I am a better person. But I’m different, because of her, and she just, she threw all of it away.”

He sniffed loudly, his shoulders stuttering.

Billy felt like his guts were on fucking fire.

“Fuck her. Fuck her. You are a good guy. And if she’s too much of a bitch to see that, she doesn’t deserve you.” Steve didn’t acknowledge him for a while. Billy just let it be, lit another cigarette.

“I think I’m gonna go home. I wanna see my cat.” Steve sounded like a little kid. Like a heartbroken little kid.

“You good to drive?” And Steve finally pulled his head out of his hands.

His big eyes were shining, his cheeks wet, glistening in the low light.

“I don’t drink anymore. Because she said I’m an asshole when I’m drunk.”

Billy weighed his words carefully.

“I’ve got a bottle of tequila in my car if you wanna stick it to her.” Steve gave him a watery smile.

“You wanna follow me to my place?”

#clearly i'm very busy at work #yikes writes #egg the cat #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

66 notes · View notes

holykillercake · 3 years

Text

Strawberry and Cigarretes

pairing: Sanji x Reader

word count: 2.6k

highlight: ¨Everything hurt, and for the first time, you wished to forget what the ocean sounded like.¨

warnings: slight angst

notes: This was a request from @vemuabhi! <3 Very special because it was my first ever request! I wanted to doge the obvious path (which I almost took) and do something that didn´t involve Whole Cake Island, so maybe it is not the biggest angst (hats off to Mr. Oda cause he is Father angst) but I did my very best! I hope you all enjoy and Happy Birthday, Sanji-kun! <3

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕠𝕣 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤!

Do you remember when you were a kid, and you´d find a shell laying on the sand? And you would pick it up and put it on your ear, hoping to listen to the ocean? It´d always make a smile grow on your face before you tossed it aside and jumped into the water.

That time was different. When you heard the ocean share its endless secrets and tell its adventurous stories, you just wanted to sit there all day and listen.

This specific event happened a couple of months after you joined the Strawhats. Chopper had borrowed you his stethoscope cause you thought it was cool, and in the middle of thousands of things you´ve already heard in your life, good and bad, the heartbeat was something that you were oblivious to.

Some would think that asking to hear someone else´s heartbeat was weird, but inside the Thousand Sunny... well, those guys put ¨weird¨ on another level, and you would have to work your ass off to surpass that.

Chopper got all blushed when you leaned closer to his tiny and furry torso, Usopp told you stories about a war he once won but had to have his heart replaced by a lion´s, Franky said that if you wanted to see a heart he could simply pull it out for you, Brook invested on the same ¨Oh, I don´t have a heart. Yohohoho¨ joke, Zoro let you listen to his wrist, Nami and Robin almost had you sinking into their generous breasts, and Sanji... you left him for last because you didn´t know how to ask him. So you just tiptoed quietly inside the kitchen, sneaked behind him, and tried to listen to his heart through his back. You feared that your nose would start bleeding if he faced you while you were doing it.

That was exactly what he did, by the way. He poured more water into the stew he was cooking and turned around, putting out his cigarette so ashes wouldn´t fall on you. Immediately you began to sweat, your breath quickened, and hold the stethoscope with a steady hand became a herculean task.

His lean fingers moved to the collar of his blue shirt and started to unbutton a few, enough for you to have better access. At that point, you believed that the reason why you weren´t bleeding yet was that you were slowly having a stroke, and Sanji´s action was God´s gift to you for being a good person while alive.

Then he didn´t do anything else, just put both hands in his pockets and waited while you listened to every single bubble popping inside his chest like you were afraid to miss one. In the end, he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and went back to his stew.

But that was all about it. The following months were just like any other, the crew kept acting as weird as their minds allowed, and you kept shutting whatever your stupid heart was yelling at you. Although... if you could be honest for one moment, deep down you were hurt.

Maybe you scared or crept him away with your childish curiosity. Maybe he had noticed your feelings for him and got disgusted. Well, not disgusted, he probably didn´t like you the same way and didn´t know how to tell you, so keeping words to a minimum was his way to go.

He stopped singing and twirling around you, he´d rather call your name respectfully; when you shared the night watches, he just remained quiet by your side, answering briefly to your questions or comments; he even stopped trying to sneak into your baths or make suggestive comments - which you didn´t love before, but you know, you only miss something when it's gone.

The whole crew had noticed the change in both of your behaviors, but they too were not sure how to address it. Whenever someone asked something about it you would say ¨Really? I didn´t notice anything.¨. Either too proud to confront him or too afraid of the truth.

¨Oi, you ok?¨ Zoro asked, breaking into your personal bubble of sadness.

You knew it was Zoro because you two were taking the night watch, but you didn´t expect him to show interest or concern about your upset state.

The night was chilly, so you were sitting on Sunny´s grass, arms around your knees, holding them close to your chest to keep the warmth.

¨Why do you care?¨ you answered bitterly, but he didn´t mind since he was the king of freaking Bitter Land.

¨I don´t. But I´ll go crazy if I hear you sigh one more time.¨ he sat close to you, not too close, just enough for you to listen to each other.

A chuckle left your mouth involuntarily, you never expected his grouchy temper would come in handy in times like this. Then your frowned expression came back, and you let out another sigh.

Before you realized Zoro had pushed you with his Sandai Kitetsu scabbard, making you fall to your side with a squeak.

¨I told you.¨

You sat again, taking some grass off your leg ¨Yeah. Can´t deny it.¨

¨Yeah, you´ve been doing that a lot lately.¨

He didn´t look like he was teasing you, his eyes focusing on the line where the sky met the ocean, where the stars disappeared and became blurry white brushes on the water.

¨I... I don´t-¨

¨I think you can do better than the stupid cook.¨he kept his usual tone ¨ But I guess we don´t get to choose these things.¨

You were taken aback by his words, and despite you trying to fight your lips from trembling and tears from falling, it was useless. You had been crushing these feelings inside you for too long, and it killed you the more you ignored it.

The swordsman wasn´t saying those things because he loved you or anything like that, but because the entire crew - except for Luffy - had already noticed and began acting weird about it. And despite being the captain´s duty to solve any problem or an uncomfortable situation, your captain was a bit too oblivious, so he had to step in.

Besides, his nakama was getting hurt. He didn´t care about the ero cook.

¨If you want me to beat him up... just let me know.¨

He said it to cheer you up - not that he didn´t mean, he´d do it for much less - but nothing seemed worth smiling for now. You just bit your lip in order to avoid an embarrassing whining, since you were unable to stop the painful tears from rolling down your cheeks.

Everything hurt, and for the first time, you wished to forget what the ocean sounded like.

¨W-What should I do?¨

¨That´s not my problem to solve, Y/N.¨ he stood up beside you ¨But sometimes, when I have a difficult problem that I can´t solve my way...¨ his gaze still locked with the horizon ¨... I think about what my captain would do.¨ he left without any further words, leaving you not only sad but confused as well.

You slept on it for the next couple of days, still not understanding what he meant. Maybe he just wanted to leave the conversation and said whatever came to mind. But even that didn´t fit right. If he didn´t want to be stuck in an uncomfortable conversation, he wouldn´t have started one.

So you took as a personal mission to observe your captain until you learned how to think like him, hoping that figuring that out would solve your problem.

You had joined the crew as a historian, the person responsible for writing down every adventure meticulously, every tiny detail of every battle, and every glorious victory along the Strawhats journey. So in one dusk, when you were in charge of the night watch with Robin and the moon was full and bright, you took your journals and began rolling through the pages, looking for a pattern, something that anticipated every major decision of your captain.

You even borrowed old diaries from the time you were not part of their crew. The stories lacked details, but they served to paint a picture. Basically:

Luffy insults an ugly lady, saves a kid, eats something, finds Zoro, beats the crap out of a crazy marine, saves the day, gets his first crewmate.

Luffy gets eaten by a bird, then vomited in a town, finds Nami, eats something, is put in a cage, beat the crap out of some pirates, saves the day.

Luffy wants a new ship, meets Usopp, eats something, gets thrown from a cliff, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets Going Merry and a liar.

Luffy wants a cook, explodes a restaurant, becomes a waiter, eats something, meets Sanji, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a cook.

Luffy eats something, finds the fishmen, goes for a walk, is thrown in the water, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a navigator.

Luffy wants a doctor, eats everything, fights some crazy ass bunnies, climbs a mountain, meets Chopper, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a doctor.

Luffy eats something, wants to fix Going Merry, meets Franky, loses Robin, beats the crap out of some world government agents, saves the day, gets an archeologist, a shipwright, and Thousand Sunny.

Luffy hears a ghoulish singing, finds a speaking skeleton in a busted ship, has his shadow stolen, beats the crap out of some Warlord of the Sea, gets a musician.

When you finished the last journal, the weight of your body pushed you to the floor, and you laid on your back for a couple of minutes, overwhelmed by the amount of information in your head.

¨I know what to do...¨ you took a deep breath ¨... I´m gonna eat something.¨

You mumbled something to Robin, telling her that you´d be back in a few minutes, and wandered to the kitchen.

As soon as you entered the room a sweet and comforting aroma like whipped cream and strawberries invaded your senses, making your head turn to the counter immediately.

¨Y/N-chan...¨ the cook said.

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, looked at him, and then to your feet, your fingers fidgeting as a sign of your anxious state.

¨D-Didn't know you were awake.¨ you marched to the table and helped yourself with some sugar cookies.

¨Oh... It won´t take much longer...¨ you heard his muffled voice somewhere in the back of your mind, all you could hear was the blood pumping in your ears ¨... cake because today is my birthday and I thought we...¨ your vision was focused on the cookie jar, crushing the granular biscuit with your fingertips ¨...and I...I didn´t know if-¨

¨What would Luffy do?¨ you whispered to yourself.

¨W-What?¨

¨What would Luffy do?¨

The question wasn´t for him, it was for you. You felt something growing inside your chest, like the blood that pumped in your heart was boiling and burning, giving you the strength and courage you needed.

¨I have been trying to find answers to a lot of things, you know?¨ you stood up to face the cook, palms spread on the table, ¨I ... do you hate me, Sanji?¨

He stopped what he was doing and let the knife rest on the cutting board. When his gaze found yours, there was no way back. That is what Luffy would do. He´d eat something, do whatever came to his mind, and deal with the consequences. No need to go back.

¨Y/N-chan... why do you...¨

¨I mean, I ask this because...¨ you clenched your hands, cursing yourself for feeling the need to cry ¨I can´t take this anymore, Sanji! If I did something to offend you or if I said something...¨ your voice was broken and weak, and you were a mess of tears and sobs ¨You don´t have to love me back, that´s not what I am saying, but... I can´t stand-¨

¨Y/N-chan... why do you think I hate you?¨ he wiped his hands with a towel and made his way towards you, slowly.

¨Oh, come on, Sanji... You treat me differently, you´re cold and distant, you don´t say a word to me even when we share night shifts! If you don´t hate me, then this must be a sick game you´re playing.¨ your legs felt wobbly, and you sat back in the chair, not being able to face him anymore. The courage and strenght you had minutes ago was gone.

You just watched him get closer and kneel in front of you, his cold fingers gently brushing away the hot tears on your cheeks.

¨I could never hate you, Y/N.¨ he said softly ¨I am sorry I made you feel like this, I am sorry I made you cry...¨ his fingers touched your trembling lips.

¨Then why...¨

¨I didn´t want to scare you away like I always do, Y/N... I know I can be too much sometimes, with the nose bleeding and everything. But that´s how I am, and I didn´t want you to think of me as an idiot... so I prefer being silent, then say something stupid and... ¨

¨You don´t have to say this. I don´t need pity talk...¨you spoke as more tears fell, giving him a chance to take his statement back.

¨I have to, Y/N. But not because of pity talk.¨ he gently pressed his forehead against yours, like bunnies do when they apologize.

¨Then why?¨

¨Because I love you, Y/N.¨ the blonde closed the space left between the two of you, kissing you passionately.

He helped you get up without breaking the kiss and leaned you against the kitchen table, his hands holding your body close while yours ran through his golden hair. His mouth tasted like strawberries and cigarettes, a flavor to which you could easily get addicted.

You parted the kiss just enough to get some oxygen, your noses were touching, and you could feel his heavy breathing against your skin.

¨I didn´t know today is your birthday...¨ you whispered, afraid that this was a dream and you´d wake up alone again.

¨Yeah, I was hoping to get a Happy Birthday from you, you know.¨ he chuckled.

¨I think you´ll be getting more than that.¨

You stared into each other´s eyes for a moment before he pulled you to a hug. When you leaned against his warm chest you heard it again, the same babble of the ocean, only this time you smiled, knowing that it wanted to listen to your stories and secrets as well.

¨Sanji?¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Happy Birthday... I love you.¨

¨I love you too, Y/N.¨ he kissed you again.

¨Please, don´t have sex on the dinner table.¨ you jumped when Robin spoke.

When you turned, you saw all your crewmates dressed in pajamas and messy hair staring back at you with sparkly sleepy eyes. You spot Zoro back in the crowd, you smiled and gave him a silent ¨Thank you.¨. You couldn´t help but wonder how the guy who manages to gets lost walking down a straight path was able to guide some sense into you.

In any way, you´ve found it. Inside of his chest, inside of his heart was the All Blue you heard so much of. Maybe that was the thing with it, and why only a few people found it. Everyone assumes that it is a place, where the four Blues meet, but it´s easy to forget that when you´re a pirate the ocean becomes the essence of who you are.

Little did you know that Sanji had found his All Blue too.

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Arguments and Abandonment

After a fight causes you to leave Brooklyn and your childhood friend Spot Conlon behind, you decide to trade your old life for Manhattan and try to forget the whole thing. However, your feelings about Spot can’t stay in the past forever, especially when you’re forced to return to Brooklyn once again.

masterlist

You had known Spot for a very long time. You’d been there with him, back when he wasn’t the King of Brooklyn, when neither of you were newsies at all. You had been much younger then, having to protect each other on the streets when all you two had were the shirts on your backs. You trusted him like no one else, and he felt the same about you.

Then, he had become a newsie. Not content to stay back, you had quickly joined the ranks as well, selling papes just as well as anyone else on the street. It didn’t take long for Spot to rise in the ranks (he’d always had a thing for leadership, people just flocked to him. People like you), and soon after that, anyone who was anyone on the streets of New York knew about Spot Conlon. Even when he had all of Brooklyn looking to him for aid, he still came to you for advice, knocking on your door late at night when he didn’t know what to do.

People came to associate you with him. After all, who’d know a guy better than the girl who’d spent most of her life with him? The two of you were always side by side, talking in hushed voices about anyone and everyone who came in your way. Maybe Spot was the King of Brooklyn, but everyone knew that you didn’t mess with Y/N unless you had a death wish. That’s just how it was, how it would always be.

And then you had the argument. It shouldn’t have been anything, shouldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds before you two made amends and forgot the whole mishap. Yet you can still hear the steel in his voice, the way the two of you had fought like you’d never fought before. Probably would never fight again, actually. You don’t think you’ll ever get close enough to him for that to happen.

You suppose the argument itself had been a long time coming. See, it was easier to get along when it was just you and him, when you were still scrawny kids messing around on the streets and getting into trouble. But Spot had been changing, getting taller, showing off muscles that hadn’t always been there. Dark locks of hair curled around his face, falling in his eyes. You had never noticed that before, never noticed any of the hundreds of details that made the boy before you Spot. Even with all the years behind you, you don’t think you’d ever seen him in the way that you do now.

You suppose you yourself had changed. You were more confident, less afraid of what others might think of you. You knew your worth, you knew what you were capable of, and you knew that you should not be spending this much time thinking about Spot Conlon, even if he was someone you’d known all your life. Especially if he was someone you’d known all your life.

So, to distract yourself, you started changing your paper route to be longer, to take you farther away from the Brooklyn lodging house. You’d get back later, set out earlier. All in all, you spent less time with Spot and more time by yourself, biding your time and pretending you didn’t care about the dark-haired boy you were doing your best to avoid.

However, even if not seeing Spot all the time was doing good things for your little crush, it certainly wasn’t great for him. Spot, who was usually used to meeting up with you after sales were over to talk through rules for the Brooklyn newsies, was suddenly left alone with no idea where you were. As you grew more courageous, venturing out on little trips by yourself to pass the time, he grew more annoyed that you weren’t reporting in to him. Eventually, his smoldering frustration and your overly breezy attitude were bound to clash in a thunderstorm of the century.

Stormy couldn’t even begin to describe it. At first, you had both been civil. He had pulled you aside into a separate room. He had asked you why you weren’t showing up at the lodging house as much, why you were suddenly skipping newsie discussions. You suppose something in his tone had bothered you, something about the fact that he seemed to feel that he could control you, and you had answered him with some sort of snarky retort. This, when Spot had been wanting a legitimate response, was the last straw.

It quickly escalated from there until you were practically shouting at each other. Why were you so afraid of responsibility? Why did Spot think he could order you around like a doll? Why were you making such a big deal out of this? Why was he? Everything came to a peak when Spot had raked his hand through his hair, clearly vexed. “You know, you’re skipping out on us so much I don’t even think we need you here.” He had said, and you had frozen mid-pace.

“Are you telling me to leave?” You had asked, voice icy calm. Spot had looked over at you, and even from across the room you could sense the regret already building in him, the knowledge that he had gone too far. But Spot was still Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, and so he would never back down. “I guess I am.” He had stared at you, chin held high, issuing a silent challenge. He wasn’t the only one with a Brooklyn temper, so you returned his gaze. “Then this is goodbye.” You had jerked your chin at him in a silent farewell, then spun around and headed for the door. Just as you were about to disappear completely, you saw his hand reach out to stop you, but it was too late, and you hurried away from him.

You had left Brooklyn that night, gathering up your few belongings in a fit of fury and leaving the lodging house behind. You had whispered a couple of last-minute goodbyes to your newsie friends in Brooklyn, then disappeared into the streets. You weren’t quite sure where you were going, only that it had to be away. Somewhere Spot wouldn’t find you, although you knew that the chances of him searching for you were slim to none. So, you suppose that you weren’t quite surprised when you looked up and found yourself walking through Manhattan- Jack Kelly’s turf. Well, if there’s one place Spot won’t want to go, it is here.

Luckily for you, not many of the Manhattan newsies recognized you. If there were any dealings with Brooklyn, they would usually have met with Spot instead of you, so you were just another stranger to them. You had walked through the door of the Manhattan lodging house, making your way through the throngs of boys to reach Jack Kelly. He had recognized you slightly, judging by his furrowed brow, but you had been quick to assure him that it was only because you used to be a Brooklyn newsie and had left due to a little dispute with Spot. Understatement of the century, but it would keep your cover and explain away any misgivings.

Jack had welcomed you with open arms, and you found a new home with the Manhattan newsies. It was a perfectly fine life, and you still kept selling papes as free as a bird just like you had always wanted, but something was still missing. You noticed it when you headed back to the lodging house and looked for a familiar face that wasn’t there, or when you looked out the window at night and saw a cityscape that just wasn’t quite right. You missed Brooklyn, and there was no way around it.

As much as you missed your home, you knew there was no chance that you’d go back. If there’s one thing you and Spot had in common, it’s that you had a fearsome pride that you would never be able to fully control. You couldn’t imagine walking back through those streets, and to do what? Beg Spot to let you stay? Not in a million years. It’s the same reason why Spot won’t be knocking on the door of the Manhattan lodging house to ask you to come back home with him. He would never admit that he was wrong, and certainly not in front of Jack and all of the ‘Hattan newsies.

So you stay in Manhattan, and watch the sun rise and set over and over again. Days grow old, become weeks. Soon it’s been a month, then two, then half a year. You miss Spot with every sunrise, but it doesn’t matter. You two had always been able to hold a grudge, and that’s exactly what you’ll be doing, probably for the rest of your life. There was just no other way.

You’ve finished selling your papes early. One of the nice things about Manhattan is that they’re not quite used to a girl newsie, and you’re able to get through all of your papers in much shorter time than back home in Brooklyn. So, you wander back through the twisting street corners to the Manhattan lodging house, joined soon after by Race, Elmer, Albert, Specs, and a few other boys.

This mangy group is lying around in the main room of the lodging house when Jack leans in the doorway, pretending to knock on the doorframe. “Hey, Racer, Specs, Y/N, you guys busy? I need a couple of newsies to head down to Spot Conlon’s turf. Them Brooklyn boys are causing some trouble in our zone and I need him to knock it off.” You sit up the second you hear Spot’s name. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Jack. You remember why I came here, right? Spot hates me.”

Jack waves a hand dismissively. “Actually, you said that you were good friends until one measly little argument. I need you there to make sure the other boys don’t get they asses kicked by the Brooklyn guys.” Race and Specs stand up, joining you in the squabble. Their voices ring out over yours, fiercely declaring that they could take a dozen Brooklyn boys ten to one and come out on top.

You laugh in spite of yourself, and Jack takes that as a cue that you agree with him. “Great to see you so happy, Y/N. Now come on, it’ll be a short trip. See you later.” He ducks out of the room before you can either argue back or hit him with something, so you’re forced to turn to Specs and Race. “So, how do you feel about a walk to Brooklyn?”

It feels strange to be heading back to your old turf. Jack had assured you that you’d only be there briefly to keep the Brooklyn boys off of Race and Specs, and you wouldn’t have to talk to Spot at all. So, you keep your newsie cap wedged firmly down on your head, and do your best to disguise your face. You don’t want to be here, not at all, but you can’t risk getting kicked out of Manhattan as well. You can only join so many turfs before you run out of places to sell your papes. And then what would you do, go transcontinental?

The walk to the Brooklyn lodging house happens without incident, and you’re almost feeling like you didn’t need to come at all until you’re a few blocks away. Race and Specs are walking down the road when a figure melts out of the shadows of an alleyway and comes to stand in front of them, blocking their path. He folds his arms across his chest. “And what would a couple of ‘Hattan newsies be doing in our turf?” Race is about to issue back some sarcastic jibe when three more Brooklyn boys appear out of nowhere.

You can see this is going south, so you walk up to the boys. You’d been trailing Race and Specs by a block or so in the hopes that you wouldn’t be needed, but all eyes turn to you once you approach the gathered newsies. The lead Brooklyn boy squints at you. “Who are you? Another Manhattan kid?” You reach up and pull your hat back, grinning at your friend. “What, you forget me that quickly? I’se only been gone a couple of months.”

He recognizes you at once. “Y/N? That you?” The boy slings an arm around your shoulder. “You should have told us these kids were with you.” You laugh, gesturing for Race and Specs to continue on to the lodging house. “I didn’t think you were that excited for a fight. They’d been here barely a minute.” The two of you break into chuckles, but your laugh dies in your throat when you see a familiar figure approaching from further down the street. He calls out to the Brooklyn boy next to you. “Hey, what’s all this? I’ve said no commotion in the streets.” Then Spot turns to you, and his gaze turns stony from the second his eyes land on you.

Neither of you say a word. Specs, noticing the obvious unease circling between the two of you, steps forward. “We’re here with word from Jack Kelly. There are a few things we’se got to discuss.” Spot looks over at him, distracted, and idly gestures for the three of you to follow him back to the lodging house. You walk over to Specs and whisper a quiet thank-you to the newsie. He just brushes it off. “Trust me, it was more for me than you. I didn’t want to see you get killed this soon into entering Brooklyn.” You force a smile, but inside, your mind is reeling. You had hoped that Spot would at least look a little happy to see you, like he regrets sending you away, but you didn’t see anything but ice in his eyes.

The three of you push through the doors of the lodging house, and head down the hall to Spot’s office of sorts. You already know the way, having been there many times before, and so you’re the first one in the room. Race and Specs are about to follow you through the door, but Spot reaches out an arm and blocks their path. “I’m going to talk with her first. You can wait in the main room.” You trade gazes with the Manhattan newsies, and nod silently to indicate that everything is alright. As you watch them disappear back down the hall, you’re not quite sure whether that was the truth.

Spot waits for them to go, then shuts the door. He walks back to the center of the room, folding his arms over his chest. You’ve seen this movement many times before, but usually the object of his stone-cold stare is some unfortunate newsboy, not the girl he’s known for his entire life. Spot is the first one to speak. “What are you doing here?” His voice is quiet. You’re not used to hearing it so quiet.

You clear your throat. “Jack asked me to go with the boys. He wants to talk about-” Spot cuts you off. “I don’t care about Jack Kelly. Why are you back here?” Despite everything, despite all the time you’ve spent wishing you could be back in Brooklyn, you still feel that familiar burn of annoyance rising in the back of your throat. “Would you prefer I leave? I seem to remember you were the one to kick me out in the first place.” The sounds of the city echo in through an open window. Spot glances out at the city below, then back to you.

“As I recall, you were the one who dared me to make you leave.” Your eyes fly to him. “That’s not true at all! Yeah, we were arguing, but I’m not the one who said that I wasn’t needed. That you didn’t want me here.” Spot takes a step forward, and even this slight closeness makes your breath hitch in your throat. “I never wanted you to go. I know what I said, and I know what happened, but I never wanted you to leave. I regretted it ever since.”

You nod slowly, finding you can’t quite look him in the eyes. You glance away, towards the open window. Anything but the pain clear on Spot’s face, the pain that twists in you like a knife. “I missed it too. All of this.” You wait one moment, two. “I missed you.” Spot reaches out and presses his hand gently to the side of your cheek, forcing you to look back at him. “Come back to me. Please. I never should have said any of that and we both know it.” You look at him for a long time, silently weighing everything, then nod. Instantly, Spot’s face brightens. “Well, if we’re making chancy decisions, I might as well do this.” You tilt your head slightly, confused, then your eyes widen when he presses a kiss to your lips. You smile and kiss him back, but the moment is shattered when one of the Brooklyn newsies yells something from out in the hall.

“Hey, Spot, can you hear out these ‘Hattan guys? One of them keeps stealing Jasper’s cigars.” Spot groans, reluctantly pulling away. “I’m going to kill them before they even start talking.” You laugh at his annoyed expression. “You are not.” Spot raises an eyebrow. “And who’s going to stop me?” You smile at him. “Me.” You lean over, kissing him lightly, then dance away and reach for the door despite Spot’s protests, which you ignore gleefully. You have Spot back, what more could anything else matter?

#newsies #spot conlon #spot conlon imagine #spot conlon x reader #spot conlon imagines #spot conlon oneshot #newsies imagine #newsies x reader #newsies imagines #newsies oneshot #newsies live imagine #newsies live x reader #newsies live imagines #newsies live oneshot #brooklyn newsies #brooklyn newsies imagine #brooklyn newsies x reader #brooklyn newsies imagines #brooklyn newsies oneshot

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ibis-gt · 3 years

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i made a fairytale au for cam and luther and then wrote nearly 5k words of fic for it?? which is wild bc i am not much of a writer. but. that’s under the cut. content warning for a pretty violent scene towards the end but there’s a happy ending i prommy

Once upon a time, there lived a prince. This prince, Luther by name, lived in a kingdom that was plagued by monsters. His father, the king, had gained his throne by feats of heroism, most notably by slaying a fearsome dragon that had ruled the land for years. The time came for Luther to prove he was worthy of the title of prince by slaying a monster of his own…

Down in the countryside, farmers have been complaining for weeks of an ogre stealing their cattle and frightening their children. So Luther sets off in a splendid suit of armor, with a sword sheathed on one hip, a quiver of arrows on the other, and his bow slung on his back.

Luther rides his horse down to the village where the ogre was last spotted. He talks with the locals and gets a description of the creature. At least forty feet tall, they say, with greenish-grey skin and dark hair and teeth the length of a man’s forearm. Luther leaves his horse behind with the farmers because he doesn’t want her getting hurt and marches off, following a set of giant footprints left behind by the ogre, sword in hand. He would have to admit that he isn’t the best at sword fighting, and that really he’s never faced a monster on his own. But his father gave him a crucial tip: every monster has a weak point. Find the weak point, exploit it, and you’ll win every time.

The footprints lead through the plains of grass, past the area where the farmers let their cattle out to graze, and into a dark forest. The sun is going down before he manages to find the ogre, so he sets up a little camp with a little fire and rests his tired bones. His armor isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it takes forever to get on and off even with someone helping him, let alone by himself. He sits with his back to a big boulder so nothing can sneak up behind him and eventually drifts off.

Luther awakens the next morning and groans at how stiff and sore he is. He sits up and pauses, brow furrowed, remembering that he’d gone to bed sitting upright. But just now, he’d been lying on his back. And he’s not the best tracker, but those giant footprints look… disconcertingly fresh. These things add up in his mind. He just about passes out. He crouches down and puts his head between his knees for a moment until he can breathe again and his heart stops pounding quite so hard. He was right next to it! He fell asleep leaning on it! If his father heard about this he’d give him such a beating. How could he not have noticed that the boulder was actually -

His stomach rumbles, interrupting his panicked thoughts, and Luther remembers that the last time he ate was back in that farming village around two in the afternoon yesterday. He digs out a bit of beef jerky and morosely works at it. His father swears by the stuff, but it just makes his teeth hurt. Luther dreams of the kitchens back home and drools a little.

He gives up on the jerky and manages to take down a couple squirrels with his bow and arrows. He gets his fire blazing again and sets them cooking over it, and sits down to draw in the dirt and form a battle plan. He gets wrapped up in his drawing and loses track of time, but is startled violently back to reality as a deep booming voice from behind him says, “Your squirrel’s burning.”

Luther’s eyes snap up to the fire. He hastily pulls the stick with his squirrels off of it, waving it in the air to put out the bit of squirrel that had caught fire. He blows on it and inspects the damage. Not too bad, a little charred. Still definitely edible. Then realization dawns, and he slowly looks up and over his shoulder.

That’s the ogre. He’s unmistakable. Huge, greyish-green, with shaggy black hair and big tusks that jut out of his mouth. He’s down on one knee looming over Luther, modesty barely preserved by a loincloth stitched together out of the pelts of many different furry animals. Luther wills himself to not faint for the second time that day.

“You gonna eat that?” The ogre booms. “’Cause I will if you won’t.”

“W-well, yes, I was planning to,” Luther quavers, “But there are two, so, um, you can have one if you want? We can share?”

He takes the non-burned squirrel off the stick and holds it up. His hand only shakes a little. The ogre takes it carefully between thumb and forefinger and tosses it in his mouth. With such a tiny morsel, he’d usually just swallow it whole, but an interesting flavor makes him stop and savor it for a moment.

“What’d you do to it? Not like any squirrel I’ve eaten. And I’ve eaten a whole army of squirrels.” He slaps a hand on his formidable belly. The sound makes Luther jump.

“I- I didn’t do much, j-just some seasoning, I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, please don’t eat me next."

"You?” The ogre laughs. “Why would I eat you? You shared your food with me. That’s mighty polite. I’d say that makes us friends now, and I don’t eat friends.” He grunts as he shifts position, sitting down heavily and stretching out his legs. “Bad knees,” he grumbles. “Sat like that too long, but I wanted to see what you were drawing."

Luther is now horrifically aware that he is directly between the ogre’s legs. He is also horrifically aware that he was drawing himself hitting an ogre with a sword. He hurriedly kicks some dirt over it.

"Nothing. Nothing interesting. I’m a bad artist anyway.”

“Sure. What’s your name, little tin man? You didn’t seem too talkative when you snuggled up to me last night, but I thought maybe you were just tired. I’m Cam."

"L-Luther.” Oh god. He was supposed to kill this thing, it - well, no, not ‘it’, he can’t think of Cam as an ‘it’ now he knows his name - he’s terrorizing folks, stealing their livelihoods, he’s supposed to drive him away, save the day, bring peace to the kingdom. Instead he’s sharing his meager breakfast and making friends with the monster. How did it all go so wrong!!

“So, Luther, you made of metal? I thought you were gonna take all that off, looks pretty uncomfortable, but you wore it all night. Unless it’s like… you?"

"No, no, um, it’s just… it takes a long time to put it on and take it off? And I usually need help.”

"Well shoot, friend, why didn’t you say so?“ Before Luther can object, a giant hand descends and plucks him up. He panics, struggles in Cam’s grasp, and Cam tsks at him. "I can’t get all that off you if you don’t hold still. Don’t make me squeeze."

Luther goes still. If Cam squeezes the armor, it’ll stay squeezed. He wouldn’t want to still be in it if that happens. Cam clearly has no idea how to get someone out of armor though. He just pulls at clasps and buckles till they break, then shucks the metal off of Luther like an ear of corn. His helmet comes off first, freeing his dark brown curls.

“Aww,” Cam says, “lookit you. You’re kinda cute for a tin man.” He musses up Luther’s hair with a fingertip. "You’re like a little crab,” Cam chuckles. “Crack open the hard shell to get to the soft stuff underneath.” The food metaphor does not put Luther any more at ease as the rest of his armor is pulled off and tossed aside, piece by piece. Cam even strips the chainmail off of him and dumps it on the ground. This leaves Luther in his shirt and breeches, shaking like a leaf and terrified for his life.

“Oh, you cold? Here, I gotcha.” Cam sandwiches him between his hands. Luther awaits the pressure and the horrible crunch that will no doubt be the end of his short life, but it never comes. Cam just holds him there, and truth be told his hands are very warm, and it had been a chilly morning. Luther relaxes very slightly.

After a few minutes, Cam lifts one hand a little and peeks at Luther. “Better?"

"Much better, thank you. Even a little too warm, actually? Can I, um, come out now?"

Cam laughs and opens his hands like a book, then tilts them so Luther tumbles into the palm of his left hand. "So what’s a fancy little shrimp like you doing all the way out here, with that tough shell and those sharp weapons? You huntin’ something?"

Luther hesitates. It’s not… technically a lie, just an omission of truth, right? "Yeees…. Hunting.”

Cam laughs out loud, leaning back and slapping his knee with his free hand. “HA! You are just about the worst liar I ever met, Luther. Whew.” He actually wipes a tear from his eye. Luther feels his face heating up with anger and embarrassment.

“I am hunting! I’m hunting you!” As soon as he says it he regrets it. He slaps his hands over his mouth and cowers back as Cam sits up straight again and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow.

“That so? Huh. Well, you found me, oh mighty hunter. And you fed me, and let me take your armor off you, and left all your sharp things on the ground while you sit in the palm of my hand. So, uh… how’s that goin’ for ya?”

“It… I… um… please don’t kill me?”

Cam grins. It’s not a nice grin anymore. It shows off too many teeth. “Lotsa folks have hunted me, you know. Not a one has succeeded. Most of ‘em can’t find me in the first place, not unless I want them to. Neat little trick we ogres have. We blend in well. The ones who did find me, they regretted it pretty quick. When I heard you clanking along with your silly armor and your little sword, I thought oh boy, here comes another one. But it turns out this one couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map, so he ain’t one of them legendary monster hunters lookin’ to claim some bounty. And he’s a little scrawny slip of a thing, too, and he keeps stopping to look at birds. I kinda liked you. And honestly, when you found me, it took me by surprise. Thought I had you pegged all wrong. Then you made your little fire, curled up next to me, and went to sleep, and it took everything I had not to bust my gut laughing right then and there. And now… well, I don’t rightly know what to make of you. Cute little thing, I know that. But cute won’t save you if you wanna tussle with me. So, little hunter… what’re you gonna do now?”

Luther’s nearly in tears. He manages to say, “Then… were you just… toying with me? This whole time? Waiting to see what I’d do?"

Cam shrugs. "Pretty much.” That does it. The waterworks are in full swing. Luther’s chin trembles, his lower lip wobbles, and then tears are streaming down his face and he’s sobbing.

“Y- you’re s-so-ho meeeaaaan,” Luther wails. “Y-you’re j-just making f-fun of me, I thought w-we were friends!”

Cam has absolutely no idea how to respond to this. For some reason he actually feels guilty. “Aw - no - now look, there’s no call for - just… just stop crying, okay? Please?” Luther continues to sob, heedless of Cam’s pleading. “There, there,” Cam tries, patting Luther’s head. “I’m not going to kill you. Okay? How’s that? I’m sorry I called you - well. All those things. I’m sure you’re a great hunter. Look, you got those squirrels. And hey! That one I ate tasted great. You got some real skill there."

Luther wipes his eyes and looks up, teetering dangerously on the edge of another sobbing fit. His eyes are all watery and a little red-rimmed. "R-really?"

"Yes! Of course!” Cam clings to the compliment like a life preserver. “I bet you’re like, like the king’s cook or something, right? Cause you’re the best in the land?"

Luther’s face crumples a little and he looks down, mutters something.

"What?” Cam holds him up a little closer to his ear.

“’m his son,” Luther mumbles again.

“His son? You’re a prince? And you’re all - oh, hell.” Now he’s really put his foot in it. Luther bursts into tears again and curls up in a little ball.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I - oh, ugh, you’re getting my hand all wet.” Cam picks him up between thumb and forefinger and shakes the little tear droplets off his palm. “Now look here,” he says, attempting a sterner approach. “You’re a prince, all right? You can’t be crying and going to pieces just ‘cause some big bad monster was mean to you. You gotta kill big bad monsters, right? So here’s what you’re gonna do.” Cam sets him down gently, picks up his sword and hands it to him. “There you go. You’re gonna take that sword, right, and you’re gonna really let me have it. That’ll make you feel better, won’t it?“

Luther purses his lips and looks up at him. "But… all I can hit from here is your foot. That’s no good. I need a shot at something vital."

"Oh fine, fine, Mr. Picky,” Cam grumbles. He shuffles his legs to the side and leans down til he’s practically laying on his belly. “Face shot. Free one for ya. Go on, hit something good.” Luther considers. Just as Cam realizes how ridiculous this whole thing is, he draws his sword back and plunges it into Cam’s eye.

- Almost plunges it into Cam’s eye. The ogre moves suddenly, turning his head to the side to avoid the blow. Luther makes a deep gash in Cam’s cheek, and Cam roars. “Oh, you sly little shit. Very good, very sneaky. You almost had me there. Fine. We do this the hard way.”

He gets to his feet, draws himself up to his full, impressive height, and looks down at the dirt where Luther was a moment ago. Cam blinks in surprise. “Where’d you… goddammit…” He looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of where Luther could’ve gotten to.

Luther was not about to let the golden opportunity to run and hide during a big dramatic show of power go to waste. He slides into a patch of underbrush, catches his breath, and takes stock. He has no armor, no food, no bow or arrows. Those are all back at his camp, which is currently ogre territory. He has one sword that he’s okay at using. The ogre has the homefield advantage, and some kind of ability, possibly magical, to hide himself from those who want to find him. Luther shouldn’t let him out of his sight. But he should work on camouflaging himself. He takes a handful of dirt and smears it on his face and shirt. The sword he can’t do much about, he’ll just have to try and keep it from glinting. He glances to his left, away from where Cam still stands, turning in circles and peering around. Luther had only gone a little ways into the woods before he stopped for camp last night. He can almost see the forest’s edge from here. He could dart for the grasslands and try to make it back to the village, but he’d be in plain sight as soon as he’s out of the trees and there’s no guarantee Cam won’t just follow him all the way back. The further he goes into the trees the more firmly he is in Cam’s territory, but the more coverage he has.

Possibilities begin swirling around in his head. His best bet is trickery rather than a face to face confrontation. He’s got a running list in his mind of Cam’s weak points now. Food, monologuing, emotional outbursts. Although that last one’s probably off the table now. Bursting into tears isn’t going to get him out of a second pinch. Bad knees - if he can trip Cam up, he can get a shot at his face again, maybe cut his throat or get at his soft belly and sides. Cam’s a talker and likes to gloat, maybe if he gets him distracted by looking pathetic he could get him to walk right into a trap of some kind. He likes food… but Luther doesn’t have the resources to make a big feast to distract him or sate him, just a pouchful of seasoning that he never leaves home without. His lip wobbles again as he thinks about how that’s back at his camp… he may never see his precious seasonings again.

Meanwhile, Cam is getting frustrated. “Well, the little shit can’t have gone far,” he grumbles. “Just gotta flush 'im out.” Luther watches, petrified, as Cam lumbers over to a nearby patch of underbrush and without warning stomps down on it hard, twisting his foot and smashing every inch of it. He steps back and leans down to inspect what’s left. Luther bites his lip hard to stifle a whimper.

“Nope, not there,” Cam announces. “Eeney, meeney, miney…..” Another bunch of bushes are mercilessly ground into the dirt. “Moe. Hmmm. Where are you?”

Luther can’t stay in his hiding place for long. It’s only a matter of time before Cam gets to him. He needs an opening to make a break for it though, if he runs now Cam will spot him right away. As slowly as he dares, he picks up a large, flat rock, then skims it like a frisbee off to his right, where it hits a tree with a satisfying thock. Cam whirls around, and Luther bolts out of the brush. Cam hears the leaves rustling and turns back around, catching sight of him as he flees.

“There you are! Hold on now, don’t go running off! I just wanna talk, I swear. The whole monster-slaying prince thing not working out for ya? I got a better job offer! You can be my dinner!” Luther keeps sprinting as fast as he can, not even bothering to glance behind him. The last thing he needs is to miss a fallen branch or a groundhog hole and trip.

On flat, open land, the ogre would outpace him easily. But if he can get deeper into the forest where the trees are closer together, that could slow him down enough for Luther to get some distance and hide again, have a moment to breathe and think so he can work on his plan. He’s starting to get an idea of what he’ll need. He needs the element of surprise for sure, and he needs more than just his sword. If he had some rope he could set up a tripwire, maybe. He curses himself for not taking his father’s advice about packing, for letting Cam strip him, for being too weak and scared to do anything when he had the chance, for being born in the first place. His eyes well up with tears and he scrubs at them furiously. He can’t afford to have his sight blurred right now, he needs to keep his head clear and keep moving. He can hear Cam’s thudding footsteps behind him, gaining quickly. He can cover so much more ground in a single step. It’s simply not fair. The little bit of distance he was able to gain with his rock trick is disappearing fast and it won’t be long before he’s in arm’s reach.

Almost as if he can read his thoughts, Cam lunges forward and takes a swipe at him, trying to knock him off his feet. Luther hits the deck and Cam overbalances, stumbling and crashing into a tree. The tree snaps when his weight collides with it, and Cam has to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. Luther scrambles to his feet and keeps running. He even manages to put on an extra burst of speed when he hears Cam roar with frustration behind him. He’s not as fast as he could be because he’s lugging the sword along with him, but he doesn’t dare drop it. It proves its usefulness in the next minute. Cam closes the distance and grabs for him. Luther sees the shadow fall over him and whirls around, lashing out at the reaching hand. He slices across Cam’s palm, and Cam howls with pain and pulls back. Luther dashes away, and Cam stomps his foot in frustration.

"Hold still, dammit! You’re just making it worse for yourself!” He takes off after Luther again, but his stamina’s flagging. It’s harder for a creature his size to haul himself around and he’s used to running down his prey in the first minutes of the chase. This has dragged on long enough to tire him out, but he’s not willing to give up just yet. “When I get my hands on you, tin man, you’re paste,” he growls. “They’re gonna have to come up with new words for how dead you’re gonna be.”

The trees start getting close enough together that Luther has to dodge around them from time to time. He can hear Cam behind him crashing through them, spluttering as he gets a face full of branches and leaves. Luther smiles to himself. That’s nice, at least. At last he gathers up his nerve and dodges to the side behind a particularly large tree, hoping that Cam’s too busy navigating the foliage to notice. His gamble pays off. A few seconds later, the ogre goes lumbering past him without so much as a sideways glance. Luther waits just a moment more, then bolts in the opposite direction.

He’s got a plan now. He probably won’t be able to find Cam again, but Cam can find him. So he’ll set up an ambush. He circles back around to his camp and grabs his supplies as quickly as he can, his bow and arrow, his helmet, his tinderbox, and most importantly, his seasoning. He hunts for deer, takes down a decent-sized buck, and sets up a new campfire, deep in the woods, where the trees are close. He’s hoping that Cam will think that Luther thinks he’s safe in there, and that the smell of the meat cooking will lure Cam in. He takes off his shirt and fills it with twigs and leaves, sets his helmet up on a stick driven into the ground, and makes a decently convincing decoy Luther that he leans against a log. The helmet tilts at an angle that makes it look like he’s fallen asleep. With that set up, and night closing in, Luther climbs up a nearby tree and waits, sword in hand.

He doesn’t watch the fire. He wants to keep his night vision sharp. And sure enough, before too long here comes Cam, moving surprisingly quietly for his size. He squeezes through the trees with barely a rustling of leaves. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the fire and the silhouette that the decoy makes against it. Cam gets right behind the decoy and slams his foot down on it. He grinds it into the dirt with a relish that makes Luther shudder. Then Cam looks at the deer cooking with that lovely smell rising off it, and his eyes go big and shiny. As Cam bends down to pick it up, Luther chooses his moment. He drops like a stone and buries his sword lengthwise in the back of Cam’s neck. The impact sends a jolt up his arms and he hangs on as tight as he can. Cam lets out a garbled scream of pain and collapses face first on the ground. Luther gets to his feet, pulls his sword out with some difficulty, takes a deep breath, and begins to chop.

It’s messy, horrible work. By the third swing tears are rolling down Luther’s cheeks. By the seventh, he’s sobbing. After the twenty-third cut, Cam’s head is finally severed, and rolls to the side. Luther stumbles back. He’s trembling, covered in blood, panting and crying, but it’s finally done.

And then Cam’s head says, “Wow, kid. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Luther watches, dumbfounded, as Cam’s body sits up, searches around with its hands, locates his head, and puts it back on his shoulders as the flesh knits together again. Luther drops his sword in disbelief. He falls to his knees. That was it. That was all he had. He can’t even imagine what he could do against a foe who can just reattach his own head.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Okay. Um. Make it quick, please?” Cam had been planning to crunch the little shit once he was back on his feet, but he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at how despondent Luther looks.

“Aw, no, no, don’t give up so quick! Really, you almost had me!” Cam scoops him up and pats him on the head. “Look, it was a good effort. I’m sure if you had known I can’t be killed, you wouldn’t have spent all that time and energy trying to kill me. Just do a little more research next time, yeah?"

"Next time,” Luther repeats, and gives a hollow laugh. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m not welcome as part of the royal family if I can’t kill a monster. Even my sister’s done her first slaying already. A whole nest of vampires! And I can’t kill one measly ogre."

"Hey, watch who you’re calling measly,” Cam warns, but his heart isn’t in it. “Jeez. You’ve got some issues, kid. Not much of a fighter, I take it?"

Luther shakes his head and sighs. "I’m just not very good at it."

"Well they chose one hell of a first mission for you, that’s for sure. Ogres are tricky ones. We’ve got a lot of defense mechanisms.” Cam thinks for a moment. “You know what you are good at, though? You’re a good talker. Very convincing. I mean, you really had me going, with the crying and all? It was a really good ruse."

Luther bites his lip. "Um…"

"Okay, so it was for real and not a ruse. But you made the best of a bad situation! That’s also a good skill for a ruler to have. You just gotta show your family that your skills are less conventional, but still effective! Like, okay, why do you have to kill me? What’d I do?"

“You’re eating all the farmers’ cattle and scaring people."

"I thought free range meant I had free reign. Eh? Eh?” Cam pokes Luther in the ribs. Luther frowns at him. “Oh, fine, whatever. No sense of humor. You know, that’s pretty important for a king too. Yeah, all right, I’ll leave the cows alone."

"And the sheep,” Luther says sharply. “And the pigs, and chickens."

"I haven’t eaten any pigs or chickens,” Cam protests.

“Not yet. I’m being proactive."

"There you go!” Cam says, beaming. “There’s that negotiator skill! But seriously, if I can’t eat the cows and sheep I’ve got to eat something. Can you make it worth my while? 'Cause I’m not going back to squirrels."

"Well…” Luther says slowly. “What if… I hire you?"

"You… hire me?"

"Yeah. Like, as a bodyguard or something. Then I’d have to pay you, right? I could pay you in food?”

Cam is quiet for a moment. He brings Luther up closer to his face and scrutinizes him. Luther’s heart is pounding out of his chest. For a moment he thinks he’s made some horrible mistake and offended Cam and it’s all over for him. "You’re serious? Not kidding me, here? That’s your offer?”

“Y-yes? Is that… is it bad?"

"Bad? Bad? That’s the best offer I’ve ever heard! Pay me in food? HELL yes, kid! That’s what I like to hear!” The force of Cam’s enthusiasm knocks Luther over on his back. He stares at the sky for a moment. His life is so goddamn weird.

~~~~~~~~~

Luther’s father’s dragon slaying days are behind him. He’s an old man now. He has good days and bad days, but even on his best days he frequently needs help getting around. But when he sees that giant ogre enter his royal halls, he reaches for his spear. Luther eases it out of his hand.

“No, see, it’s okay. I didn’t kill him, but I stopped him terrorizing the countryside, and I kind of… hired him. As my bodyguard. This was easier, and we both benefit, see? Also, um, were you going to tell me ogres are immortal?"

"You were supposed to figure something out,” his father says. “Since you’re so damned smart."

"Well, I did figure something out. Just… maybe not what you wanted me to."

Cam waves lazily. "Hi, Yer Majesty."

"Cam,” Luther hisses. “We talked about this."

"Oh, fine, fine,” Cam grumbles, and takes a knee to bow low before the king. “I humbly pledge my service to your son,” he intones, hamming it up just a little. “Please allow me to protect him from all harms, and so on."

The king glares. His stabbing hand is itching. But he doesn’t currently have a better plan, and this’ll keep the peasants quiet for a bit. "Fine,” he spits, “But you’re taking care of him. Feeding him, walking him, cleaning up after him, whatever. No getting the servants to do it for you. He’s your responsibility now."

Cam grins at Luther. "So, speaking of feeding… when’s dinner?”

#art #writing #giant tiny #g/t #cam and luther #fairy tale au #to be more specific re: content warnings there is a beheading but he gets better so it's okay #tiny knights are very important to me as u can clearly see #there's just something about. someone who is sworn to protect others going up against a force so much larger than themselves #EDIT mobile hates readmores sorry if u get a three mile long post on yr dash :(

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haminflower · 3 years

Text

recently finished the six of crows duology / trilogy(?) (i’m really late i know but shhh) and I can fully say that I’M OBSESSED.

the chemistry between every characters were undeniable and I love love love kaz and inej!!!

here are few quotes that has kept me up all night and I need to get it out,,

SIX OF CROWS: (e-book)

Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason. (p26)

“who’d deny a poor cripple his cane?” “if the cripple is you, then any man with sense.” (p30)

“no mourners.” “no funerals.” (p33)

besides, she was the Wraith — the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.” (p33)

“i’m a businessman,” he’d told her. “no more, no less.” “you’re a thief, Kaz.” “isn’t that what i just said?” (p39)

but the night’s work wasn’t yet over, and the Wraith didn’t have time for traitors. (p55)

“when everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.” (p61)

“greed is your god, Kaz.” he almost laughed at that. “no, Inej. greed bows to me. it is my servant and my lever.” (p62)

“men mock the gods until they need them, Kaz.” (p63)

“we’ll be kings and queens, Inej. kings and queens.” (p100)

“please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honour of acquiring me a new hat?” (p103)

brick by brick, i will destroy you. (p107)

Nina just liked to flirt with everything. he’d once seen her make eyes at a pair of shoes she fancied in a shop window. (p112)

“you may still die in the Dregs.” Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “i may. but i’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.” (p132)

Matthias was dreaming again. dreaming of her. (p150)

her curls brushed his cheeks, and he felt that if he could just hold her a little longer, every wound, every hurt, every bad thing would melt away. (p150-151)

the heart is an arrow. it demands aim to land true. (p195)

many boys will bring you flowers. but someday you’ll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. and even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won’t matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. only that boy earns your heart. (p196)

“close your eyes!” “you can’t kiss me from down there, Wylan.” (p211)

“talk to me, Wraith.” “you came back for me.” “i protect my investments.” (p220)

maybe Inej was right. maybe fate did bother with people like him. (p230)

he was the same Kaz — cold, rude, impossible— but beneath all that anger, she thought she’d seen something else, too. or maybe she was just a romantic. (p233)

“i loved your laugh, Nina. and your fierce warrior’s heart. i might have loved you, too.” (p251)

“fine. But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, i’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.” Brekker’s lips quirked. “i’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” “my ghost won’t associate with your ghost,” (p259)

“he was afraid for you.” “Kaz isn’t afraid of anything.” “you should have seen his face when he brought you to me.” (p264)

“i know some people don’t understand, but Kaz told me… he said it was my choice, that he wouldn’t be the one to mark me again.” (p266)

“you’re too good for him, you know.” “i know. so are you.” (p282-283)

“you know i can do it, Kaz, and you know i’m not going to refuse. so why ask?” because i’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days. (p285)

“i’ll get us out. you know that.” tell me you know that. he needed her to say it. // he needed to know she believed in him. (p286-287)

“i don’t want your prayers,” he said. “what do you want, then?” // you, Inej. you. (p288)

“it’s not natural for women to fight.” “it’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet you stand.” (p322)

Kaz was right about one thing at least. she and Matthias had finally found something to agree on. (p358)

Inej felt like she and Kaz had become twin soldiers, marching on, pretending they were fine, hiding their wounds and bruises from the rest of the crew. (p360)

it was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted. (p382)

he hated that Inej had seen him this way, that anyone had, but on the heels of that thought came another: better it should be her. (p389-390)

“stop being dense. you’re cuter when you’re smart.” (p405)

“if it were a trick, i’d promise you safety. i'd offer you happiness. i don't know if that exists in the Barrel, but you’ll find none of it with me.” // better terrible truths than kind lies. (p433)

it was as if once Kaz had seen her, he’d understood how to keep seeing her. (p433)

“i feel sorry for you, Brekker. there is nothing sacred in your life.” there was a long pause, and then Kaz said, “you’re wrong.” (p482)

there was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken. (p561)

the harbour wind had lifted her dark hair, and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure that there was magic in this world. (p562)

she’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. it terrified him. (p562)

that she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. that he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. that without meaning to, he’d began to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. he needed to thank her for his new hat. (p563) (this whole paragraph *sobs*)

“... i can hear the change in Kaz’s breathing when he looks at you.” “you… you can?” “it catches every time, like he’s never seen you before.” (p598)

Inej turned to go. Kaz seized her hand, keeping it on the railing. he didn’t look at her. “stay,” he said, his voice rough stone. “stay in Ketterdam. stay with me.” (p603)

he took a breath. “i want you to stay. i want you to… i want you.” (p603)

“i will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. or i will not have you at all.” (p604)

speak, she begged silently. give me a reason to stay. for all his selfishness and cruelty, Kaz was still the boy who had saved her. she wanted to believe he was worth saving, too. (p604)

“stay,” she panted. tears leaked from her eyes. “stay till the end.” “and after,” he said. “and always.” // “Nina,” he whispered, “little red bird. don’t go.” (p607)

Kaz knew the instant he made his mistake. they’d all known it might come to this. he should have trusted his crew. his eyes should have stayed trained on Van Eck. instead, in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej. // Inej can fend for herself. she’s a pawn, not the prize. but he was already turning, already sprinting to get to her as the Grisha attacked. (p627)

i’m going to get my money, Kaz vowed. and i’m going to get my girl. Inej could never be his, not really, but he would find a way to give her the freedom he’d promised her so long ago. (p635)

#grishaverse #six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz #kaz brekker #inej #inej gafha #jesper #jesper fahey #wylan #wylan van eck #nina #nina zenik #matthias #Matthias helvar #kanej #apinkfied reads

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ambertuis-blog · 3 years

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Okay so here’s a random conspiracy theory:

So the reason In Gen5 why there is no magic and the races are separated has something to do with the Knights of Harmony ( from the MLP gen4 comics). As we can see these Aztec looking birds went around the world gifting the creatures the knowledge to use the Elements, however as we can see something went wrong when it came to Equestria, and this caused the King of the Aztec-looking birds to order an extermination on Equestria.

This led the ponies to leave their homes and seek out a new Equestria ( this is why there is a story about the Windigos and the pony leaders learning to live in Harmony in order to help each other). Of course the ponies leaving left an in balance which in turn lead to the increase of monsters and evil magic. The other Creatures couldn’t maintain their elements and thus the knowledge was lost.

This leads to Twilight and the gang trying to restore Harmony because the knowledge of the danger such magic has, and ultimately leads to the resurrection of the Knights of Harmony.

Now either the Knights succeed and take control of all the elements or the Creatures decide to join all magic into one big ass Crystal in order to defeat the Knights. This leads to either the destruction of the individual elements and as we see in the gen 5 movie the separation of the Crystal leads to the loss of magic. This probably leads to the separation of the races or whatever creatures rule, decide to separateness races in order to stop the resurrection of the elements and magic. Which leads to the gen 5 universe.

However as we see magic is restored, this is because magic can’t be destroyed and it is within creatures nature to create magic and friendship (reference to gen4). This creates a gen 5 story line of restoring the past and perhaps even finding balance and getting to keep the magic.

Now what was the original problem that led to the whole story? My theory is that it has to do with the Humans. In gen 3 we see that the ponies have human friends and some enemies, but most importantly they give Meghan the human a magic necklace (seen above) which happens to look a lot like an Element of Harmony. My theory is that the ponies shared their magic with the humans, this either upset the other races or led to some evil human trying to take all the magic which forced the ponies to stop all connections to the human world and contain the magic that allowed them to pass into other realms in mirrors. Thus with their old home destroyed the ponies separated and began to move across to Equestria as we know it.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

#mlp fim #mlp next gen #mlp new generation #fan theory #mlp gen 5 #mlp gen 4

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

Text

long overdue

fandom: stranger things

characters: steve harrington

reader: gn

word count: 1.6k+

summary: you and steve have been friends since childhood and neither of you could ignore what you felt for each other. but it took some demogorgons for you to realize that

a/n: AHHHHHHH i’m so sorry if this is late ;^; school is really kicking my ass rn ;^; i hope you enjoy!

notes: some swearing; demogorgons

tagged by: @hyposstuffingwell

It was late at night and the breeze was chilly but that didn’t stop you or Steve from sneaking out. He picked you up a couple of blocks away from your house and the two of you drove away to the quarry, belting out Queen’s songs from inside the car.

Now here you were, sitting on top of the car’s hood as you look over the waters, talking over the most mundane things to the crazy events that took place last year. The moon glinted off the soft ripples of the water, causing silver streaks to float through the surface. The smell of damp grass reached your nose and an orchestra of cicadas serenaded whoever was present.

“I still can’t believe that you actually said that to Carol in fifth grade,” You guffawed, holding your belly as more laughs escape you.

“Hey— you thought the same thing!” Steve argues. “Her hair really looked like a bird’s nest.”

“Yeah but you don’t tell her that..!” You retort with a playful shove to his shoulder.

The brunet rolled his eyes at that, brushing back his gorgeous locks. He sighs and leaned against the car’s window, leaving you to your own musings. He eyes the various stars that twinkled against the dark blanket of the sky. He never really told many people this, not even the Party or he’ll never hear the end of it, but he was one of those people who just stared up into the night sky. He liked to take in the sights and smells around him and just enjoy what he had.

His gaze rolls over to you beside him, seeing you lying comfortably against his car’s window. The warm quilt you had brought along was laid neatly on top of your lap, eyes closed as you basked in the ambiance of the night.

At that moment Steve wondered- why did it take him so long to see this? Why did it have to take him supernatural beings, a group of kids, and a secret Russian infiltration paired with a gigantic demonic creature to work up the courage to realize what he had felt for you?

You two were neighbors, practically growing up together. You two were an unstoppable force as children, just the two of you against the world. But once high school rolled around- things changed. It was like you two became two different people. Maybe it was his fault, considering he was blinded by the popularity that managed to find its way to him, but that shouldn’t have stopped him from talking to you.

The brunet shakes himself out of his trance when he feels your hand casually slip in his, lacing your fingers with his and giving his palm a gentle squeeze. He looks up to see you gaze at him softly, almost as if you were contemplating something. He sits up when you do, hands never leaving yours.

“You brought your guitar right?” You ask and he nods. “I wanna hear you sing.”

Steve flushes a brighter shade of red and looks away bashfully. You whine and latch onto his arm, begging him to serenade you. He chuckles at your pleads, his free hand reaching up to run his hand through his hair in nervousness. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to play for you- he’d do it in a heartbeat. But he was scared that he’d mess up and look stupid in front of you- or worse, sing something that revealed his true feelings for you.

Fuck it. He thinks to himself. “Fine,” He relents and you cheer quietly. “Jeez- no matter what age we are you always manage to rope me into doing what you want.”

“You can say no, y’know.” You chide and playfully punch his shoulder, watching as he fetches his guitar from his car.

“I know. But I need the practice anyway.” He hops back onto the hood, reaching up to the neck of the guitar to tune it.

You watch fondly as he did so, memories of hanging out in his room and watching him play come flooding back to you. The sad, heavy wave of nostalgia washes over you at the memories, but you push that aside. You can recreate them again, right here and now.

Steve releases a nervous exhale and you rest a hand of comfort to his shoulder. You give him an encouraging smile, one that he reciprocates with gratitude, and starts to play. His fingers pluck at the strings gently- just some random notes to get the feel of it. He plays a jumble of notes, pretending to be in one of those rock bands and you laugh at his antics. Eventually, he stops messing around and the notes morph into something familiar- a song you heard on the radio many times.

“We’re talking away, I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway…” He sings softly.

You perked up when you recognized this iconic song. As he played into the night, you realized that it sounded so different when played this way- more romantic even. And you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest at the sight in front of you. Steve looked so lost in the music as he strummed away, singing along with the melody. He always had a talent for music, you just wish he recognized it.

“Take on me, take me on,” Steve looks up to you, shyly meeting your gaze. “I’ll be gone, in a day or two…”

He strums the rest of the chords, repeating it a couple of times before closing the song and letting the last notes echo into the air. It’s quiet for a while, just the two of you staring at each other as you let the atmosphere settle. Steve poured his heart out into the song and poured a little of what he thinks he feels for you so that you’d know how much you mean to him.

When the tension became unbearable, you spoke up. “I missed you, Steve.” You tell him softly.

“I missed you too, ______,” He replies with a sigh. He reached out to take your hand in his, thumb running over the back of it. “Look… I’m sorry for what happened back in high school… I was a jerk. Like- a jerk-jerk, the kind of jerk you want to just punch ‘cos he’s so self-absorbed and pathetic.”

You scoot over to him, gently taking the guitar and placing it back into the car. When you return, you reach up to cup his face, making the brunet turn to you. At your touch, his skin heats up with shame and he avoids your gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at you— it would just remind him of how neglectful he was as a friend.

His warm brown eyes are glassy with a pang of deep-seated guilt as he stared down at his lap. Your heart clenches at this. You knew that it was kind of his fault- he did turn you away when he became “King of Hawkins High,” but part of it was your fault too. You were so angry at him that you shunned him away whenever he tried approaching you- it was easier for you that way. Because at least, when you acted cold, the heartbreak you felt would be less painful than what it would have initially been.

“I’m not going to lie, you were that kind of a jerk,” You chuckle, thumb brushing the space under his eyes. “But it was my fault too… I gave you the cold shoulder and turned you away. And… I’m sorry for that- I should have listened to you when you tried to explain yourself…”

Steve let out some sort of amused huff. “...I guess we both fucked up big time huh?” His eyes drop down to your lips before flickering back up to your face where he finally met your gentle gaze. He dared to lean forward, pressing his forehead against yours while his trembling hands reached up to cup both your cheeks.

“What if… what if I kissed you right now?” He asks boldly, impulsively.

Your heartbeat speeds up at the question. You had already harbored feelings for your friend back then. Even though circumstances weren’t all that great before, that tiny vulnerable part you had for him never left. And with what happened with the Demogorgons, Billy, the Russians chasing after you (all that shared trauma as Murray Bauman puts it) it had only festered into what you have now.

“Here’s a better question,” You whisper. “What’s stopping you from doing so?”

Steve’s breath hitched when you actually gave him permission to kiss him. He blinks rapidly, almost as if making sure he wasn’t dreaming, before steeling his nerves and leaning forward to press his lips tentatively against yours.

The kiss was shy and hesitant at first. It was only when the both of you pulled away from each other did you two realize that you wanted something more. As your lips slot against his again, you couldn’t help but lean further into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your lips moved against his. Steve on the other hand wrapped an arm around your waist as the other came to cradle the back of your head, holding you as if you’d disappear any moment.

The kiss wasn’t sloppy or desperate- but it was passionate and full of unsaid emotions that could be better off expressed without the use of words. You pull your head away when the call for air was too great but made no move to shift out of Steve’s hold. You couldn’t help but smile at what had happened, the warmth in your chest growing and spreading throughout your whole body.

“That, that was long overdue.” You hum, eliciting a soft chuckle from Steve.

“Well,” He muses and tucks a stray hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead after. “Better late than never.”

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #fandomsonrequests

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