#only stopped cause i had little time to go out and listen to it. it was awesome though.

[suashii]

— 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ injuries ﾉ pet names ( darlin', sweetheart, doll :3 ) ﾉ mentions of food

so i wrote about horse riding but. . . know very little about horse riding! i did my best to research but there may be some details i got wrong so apologies in advance!

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“that’s it, pretty girl, nice and easy.”

the horse beneath you sighs and you do the same, relaxation and contentment in the breath you let go of. it’s been a while since you’ve gone riding, a few years at least, but being sat on a saddle with reins in your hands feels as natural as it used to when you’d ride nearly every day of the summer. you’re lucky that your favorite mare—clover—is still healthy enough to take out.

you gently squeeze your legs into clover’s sides in a silent signal for her to move from a trot to a canter. the sequence of her hoof beats effortlessly switches from the two-beat gait to one of three beats and her pace quickens. the wind against your face is stronger now but you welcome the sensation, a small smile making its way to your face.

as a kid, riding was fun and exciting more than anything else but as you’ve grown into an adult, the activity has become something more cathartic—a release of sorts. your stress slips away when you’re on the saddle, lost in the summery breeze. you don’t allow a second for the thoughts that constantly nag at you to linger. all of your focus is granted to clover and the field ahead, to how you feel here and now and how you wish you could feel like this all the time.

unfortunately for you, nothing lasts forever.

you hear the dog before you see her, barking discernible in the distance. clover must, too, her ears pointing back to listen more closely to the sound approaching from behind. as the barking grows louder, the horse’s neck tenses, and it only takes a second more for her to decide that the noise is worth investigating. you’re in alert mode now, too—no, it’s probably closer to panic mode. it’s been a while since you’ve had to worry about the horse getting spooked and even then you had your grandpa or parents to rely on to make sure nothing got out of hand.

you don’t have time to even think about what the right thing to do in this situation is before clover spots the dog bounding towards the both of you.

“clove—!” you try to calm her down, to let her know that the dog isn’t a threat that she should be scared of, but it’s far too late. before you can comprehend what’s happening, clover is rearing. the motion combined with your loose hold on the reins is enough to send you flying off the horse’s saddle. a scream is ripped from your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut at being in the air, destined to fall.

you hit the ground with an audible thud.

pain courses through your body—your back, your shoulders, your head. everything hurts and hot tears spring to the corners of your eyes but they pool there, refusing to stream down your cheeks. despite all the pain, the growing soreness, you find your mind wandering. where did clover run off to? what was the dog doing out here alone? she rarely leaves the house by herself. someone is yelling, they’re calling your name. is it boothill?

“shit, little lady,” he shakily breathes, “you okay?”

relief washes over you and for a short second, you think that you’ve never been happier to hear the farmhand’s voice. it’s tinged with concern, a characteristic you have yet to see him display—especially for you. it doesn’t stop in his voice either, you can feel it in how he takes a hold of your shoulders, his grip firm but not tight enough to cause you any unnecessary pain.

you take the risk of finally opening your eyes and instead of being met with the sun’s blinding rays, boothill’s face crowds your vision. his eyebrows are pulled together and for once, there’s no smirk or grin playing at his lips. upon seeing that you’re conscious, the tension in boothill’s forehead lessens. “there she is.”

his voice is soft, like if he speaks too loud he’ll break you. though it’s unlike him to be so mindful, you appreciate what you imagine is the temporary change. he opens his mouth to continue but before he can get another word out, the border collie, missy, nudges between the two of you as if she senses something is wrong. boothill shoos her away before turning his attention back to you. “you okay? what happened?”

you think back on the moments that led to this—you laid out on your back in the grass. “missy… i think she scared clover. she threw me off.”

that’s right, you have no idea where she went after being so startled or if she’s okay, at that.

“where is clover?” you dart up into a sitting position, palms against the grass. it’s a bad idea and you face the consequences of it immediately, head throbbing and the dull pain throughout your limbs becoming all the more noticeable. you suck in a sharp breath in response to the discomfort but realize that the pain you’re in doesn’t top your concern for the horse. “is she still around here? i need to go find her.”

“woah, woah, woah, hold your horses.” boothill frowns. he stands up and holds both of his hands out to help you do the same. for once, you don’t think about the underlying meaning of having your hands touch his, you just grab a hold and let him pull you up. you turn your head in every direction you can in search of clover, readying to pick any of them to start walking in. though, you can’t, not with the way boothill is holding your hands hostage. his gray eyes bore into yours. “you aren’t going anywhere but to the hospital.”

“what? no.” you shake your head and try to pull away but boothill doesn’t budge. the longer he holds onto you, the more aware you become of his touch—how warm his hands are and how, even though they’re rough and calloused, his palms are more comforting than you care to admit. “i don’t need a hospital. i’m fine.”

“listen darlin’, people who have just been thrown off horses ain’t known for their good judgment.” he squeezes your hands but then seems to think better of it, loosening his grip but continuing to hold them. he gets his message across though, with the hand squeeze and the almost desperate look in his eyes. you’ve never seen him so uneasy, heard him speak so seriously. his new demeanor has your feet glued to their spot on the ground and your gaze glued to his. “you’re going to the hospital.”

you’re rarely one to jump at the opportunity to agree with boothill but maybe he’s right. you’re running on adrenaline right now and your mind isn’t in the best place—you’re worried about the wrong things. and if the topic is important enough to have boothill practically pleading with you, you should take it just as seriously as he is.

“fine, i’ll go, but you need to find clover before we do.” that came off a little more demanding than you meant it to. you add, “please.”

he clicks his tongue and groans before telling you, “alright, i’ll find your damn horse.”

● ● ●

boothill is a man of his word and tracks down clover, putting her back in the stable before whisking you away to the hospital. the ride there feels like a visit to the doctor itself with the way the farmhand practically interrogates you about your symptoms. he’s concerned but can’t help but laugh when you tell him that he’s exacerbating any head trauma you may have sustained by making you think so hard.

despite your initial resistance to boothill’s insistence on going to the hospital, you’re thankful for his urging. turns out he was right to be worried—you got a concussion.

your helmet helped soften the blow but the physician who explained your diagnosis still recommended a few days off work to rest and recover. it’s not the best news to receive but considering things could have been much worse, you’re grateful to walk away with a relatively minor injury.

and if your doctor had any anxiety about you ignoring his advice, it was misplaced. because boothill has personally made it his responsibility to be sure you get better.

as soon as the two of you arrived back at the house, he steered you into the living room, sat you on the couch, and disappeared into the kitchen with a demand for you to stay put. you’re tempted to argue but your head hurts too much so you cross your arms instead, closing your eyes and resting your head on the couch cushion.

it doesn’t take long for him to return and his hands are full when he does—a glass of water in one, an orange precariously rolling on a plate in the other, and a bottle of pain medication tucked under one of his arms. he sets the drink and pills on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch beside you, the dip in the cushion enough to make you open your eyes.

upon grabbing your attention, boothill jerks his head in that direction. “take a couple of those.”

you sit up and unscrew the bottle, shaking out two of the pills and popping them in your mouth before taking a few sips of the water he grabbed for you. a beat of silence passes before you speak up. “you know, i could have done all this myself.”

“i’m sure you could have,” he tells you with a grin, hands busy peeling the skin from the orange. it’s still all in one piece. impressive, you think, but you aren’t surprised. it seems like boothill is good at everything he does. “just thought you might enjoy having me at your beck and call.”

you frown. what does he think you are? some princess who needs a servant? “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’, darlin’.” he slides the plate of peeled orange slices across the coffee table so you can eat them when you’re ready. he wipes his hands on his jeans before standing up and stuffing them in his pockets.

the farmhand is on his way to the door when he says, “i’m off, but holler for me if you need anything, sweetheart.” 

you never thought you’d see the day you would stop boothill from leaving.

“wait, before you go…” he stops and turns around, eyebrows slightly raised in silent question, urging you to go on. you had more courage to say what was on your mind when he wasn’t looking at you. though, you know it’s only right to let him know that you appreciate all he’s done for you today. so, you turn your gaze to the floor and let it spill out. “thank you for finding clover. and for taking me to the hospital. and for this.” you gesture to the fruit.

there’s a flash of sincerity that passes over his features before that annoying smile makes its way back to his lips. “so you can say thank you.”

you don’t know what kind of response you were expecting, but you should have seen this coming. it’s like he’s hardwired to tease you, even when you’re being genuine. “you can leave now, boothill.”

“yeah, yeah, i’ll get out of your hair.” in contradiction to his words, he stays put. and you can’t find it in you to be upset that he does because the humor has left his face, replaced by earnestness. “but you’re welcome, doll. it was really no trouble.”

he finally takes his leave and when you hear the door close, you let out a frustrated groan and lay your head back on the cushion. that nasty fall must have done more damage than you thought. why else would your heart be working overtime over a simple change of expression?

you shake your head to get rid of the unwelcome thoughts—thoughts of how generous and caring he actually might be—before you think better of the motion. it hurts your head and makes you wonder how long it’ll take before the pain pills kick in. they’ll probably work better if you have something on your stomach.

your eyes fall to the plate boothill left for you.

orange slices should do.

thank u for giving this a read! reblogs and comments are appreciated -`♡´-

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: honkai star rail #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill drabble #hsr drabbles #boothill fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

[freshxsturniolo]

how much did you hear? chris sturniolo x femreader 

SUMMARY :chris and nick think you're fast asleep on the couch after watching a movie and chris confesses he's in love with you. 

You feel your boyfriend pull the blanket down and over your feet as you feel his weight shift from the sofa, his thighs you'd had your feet tucked under now replaced by the blanket and the absence of his arm across the length of your leg as his hand had been resting at your hip. You had fallen asleep, for sure, and you could hear the soft sound of some music playing on the TV rather than the movie you had just been watching, but you were too tired to even stir, so you allowed yourself to fall back into a soft slumber. You could hear brief sounds around you, but you knew sleep would come over you again soon. 

Chris had been your boyfriend for the last 6 months, and you had never felt anything like what you did for Chris with anyone else. You were nervous at first, knowing Chris had voiced his fear of relationships in the past, but it had progressed much quicker than either of you had anticipated. You were each others shadow, and if you weren't together you were sending each other randoms messages, letting the other know you could wait to see them again, or that you were you simply thinking of the other. It was wholesome, that was the best way you could describe it. On this particular day, you were both so tired and wanted nothing more than to be in each other presence. Both being tired from working and some other social events that had left both your social batteries a little drained and your bodies a little sleep deprived, so a movie on the sofa had been the perfect idea. Matt and Nick had also joined, but at some point Matt had gone to his room and the chuckle you just heard from Nick confirmed he had stayed for the duration. In your light sleep, you heard both Chris and Nick enter the kitchen just behind you, and the general clatter of them moving around, grabbing drinks and more snacks, no doubt getting ready to turn on their consoles and play something together whilst you slept, which only made you nuzzle your head into the cushion you were lay on even further, feeling less guilty for falling asleep instead of spending time with your boyfriend and his brothers. But just as you were about to doze off, you heard Nicks voice. Soft, so not to wake you, but unaware you were only lightly falling asleep.

"I love that Y/N feels comfortable enough to just come over and sleep like this, with all of us in the room." You smile at Nicks words, eyes still closed, glad that he had noticed that not only had Chris become a comfort for you, so had Nick and Matt. "She loves you guys." Chris speaks. "Good. Cause we love her." Nick says. There's silence, and you open your eyes slightly. You were facing the TV and didn't want to draw attention to the fact you were awake, but suddenly you wanted to hear in. You had sometimes felt a burden to the three triplets since becoming Chris' girlfriend. He spent less time alone with them these days and you were afraid Nick and Matt resented you for that, so to hear they didn't could only make your heart sing. But your heart stopped singing, and suddenly it was dancing out of your chest when you heard Chris speak next. "Nick, can I tell you something?" he said, and he almost sounded scared. Anxious. Like he wasn't sure how to get his words out. There was silence from his brother and you had wipe your tongue across your teeth, suddenly feeling your mouth go dry. "What?" Nick said. Silence again, but you strained your ears to listen. "I'm in love with her." Your eyes were wide. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You had an inkling over the last few weeks that Chris was going to tell you he loved you. The way he looked at you sometimes when you were sat in silence. The way he had started lingering around your mouth after a kiss, like he wanted to say something. The way he said your name to get your attention and when you asked what was wrong, he would smile and say nothing and go back to what he was doing. It was giving your butterflies every time, and there were times you had almost said it for him, because you too loved him. So much. "I know." you hear Nick say, and you have to stifle a laugh so they don't know you're awake. "You know?!" Chris speaks now, and theres a pitch to his voice. "Chris, the whole world probably knows. It's so obvious" Nick says again. "Have you told her?" "No" Chris sighs. "So tell her."

You were itching to sit up. You wanted him to tell you, so badly. And you wanted to tell him back. But something about telling him in front of his brother didn't feel right. "What if she doesn't say it back, bro?" You practically hear the eyeroll Nick gives him. "I promise you, she will." Theres silence again. And you can hear them opening cupboard doors once more, the conversation now turning to something completely different, and you don't know how you're going to pretend to be asleep when they come back. You felt hot, the overwhelming feeling to rip the blanket from your skin was overpowering and you wondered if you could get away with acting like you had only just risen, when announced he needed the bathroom. "I'll be 2 minutes, get the game ready." Your heart starting hammering again as your heard Nick run upstairs to his bathroom, closing your eyes quickly knowing he would have to pass you as he did so, but you opened them again once you heard his footsteps disappear. But then the moment you opened your eyes, you heard your boyfriends footsteps come closer, and you knew it was too late. Your eyes locked. He stopped in his tracks. Can of Pepsi in hand and a bowl of chips in the other. You smiled, and the blush appeared on his cheeks immediately. "How long have you been awake?" he asks, leaning forward to put his drink and snack on the table, before standing back upright and not moving another inch. "A while." you say, but it's almost a whisper. "Did you -" he stops and ruffles his hair. "How much did you hear?" He knew. He knew you'd heard him. You smile again, and finally sit yourself up. You know he's not going to move, the blush on his face is proof enough he feels nervous. Or embarrassed. Maybe both. So you push the blanket off of your body and stand yourself up. He takes in your body. One of his black hoodies and shorts, and when he reaches your eyes he finally lets out a breath of air. You chuckle. You hold out your hand as you walk to him and when he you finally reach him, he grabs hold of it tightly. "I'll say it back." you whisper. You hear Nick open the door to his bathroom from upstairs. He's singing the words to Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter, and suddenly Chris relaxes, a small chuckle escaping his lips. It was now, or it would hang over us. "I love you." You stare at him for a second, before letting go of his hand and warping your arms around his neck. His arms immediately come around your waist and he pulls you closer, his nose grazing against your neck. "I love you too, Chris. So much." He lets out a chuckle before you pull away and look at other other, your arms still around his neck and his still around your waist, and he leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips. "I wanted to tell you so long ago." he whispers now, the sound of Nicks footsteps finally coming down the stairs. You knew he was only seconds away from walking in on you both, but if Chris wasn't moving, neither were you. "Me too. Me too." you smile, and you lean froward and kiss him again. You both let out a chuckle into each others lips as you hear Nicks footsteps come to abrupt stop. You remove your lips from his to look over his shoulder, and Chris turns his head in the same direction, both still wrapped together. "Did you tell her?" Nick says, an excited look on his face as he looks between you both. "Tell me what?" you say, playing dumb as you look at the side of your boyfriends face just in time to see him roll his eyes before turning to face you. "Shut up," he whispers, before planting another kiss on your lips, pulling away and pushing you backward slightly so he can grab hold of your hand to walk you back over to the couch. "I'll take that as a yes, shall I?" you hear Nick say, and you turn around and give him a smile. 

You spend the rest of the night with your legs draped over Chris', your hands twirling around in his hair as you peacefully watch him playing his games with Nick, turning round and giving you the occasional kiss when he had a spare second he didn't need to concentrate. And when you get into bed that night, Chris' arms holing you tightly into his chest, it's the first night of many more he whispers I love you before you fall to sleep. 

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

[hecateslore]

hello again writer hectateslore i hope youre having the most amazing day!! saw that your asks were open 👀

thus i offer: reader getting their well deserved solo vacation and papa!simon thinking being left with one young adult back from college for summer, two angsty teenagers, and a very fussy toddler looking to cause chaos would be very easy ... surprise he would rather go back to base willingly

yeaaaa thats all i can offer right now but i do hope you have an amazing day!!

"Are you sure?"

Were the words you said before agreeing to the trip with your best friends. Your mom offered to come and spend the next four days with Simon and the kids; Simon being extremely stubborn- of course he said no... Of course he could take care of two 16 year olds and one toddler, he's their dad.. duh! Simon knows you're a great mom, you're very patient, understanding, level headed, You're great!

He just doesn't understand how you're able to handle all four of them at once.

Oliver and Jude are always bickering it seems, NovaLynn never knows where anything is and the baby can't stop screaming.

When you're home- the house seems so calm, and so put together.

Your oldest coming in at whatever hour she feels like, making Simons nerves sky rocket and the twins.. don't get him started. They're filthy, they leave everything everywhere, and Simon isn't a messy man. He couldn't wait until you came home, calling you every two to three hours.

So when the twins called and asked if they could have friends over the day of your return- life couldn't get any more hectic for Simon, so you agreed.

Then there Simon was, watching annoying teenagers ruin his back yard.

Nova was splashing Lily with pool water making the girl belly laugh. Simon sat with his legs in the water, scrunching his nose in disgust every time he overheard the stupid jokes his sons friends made. He was irritated, watching teenagers almost crack their heads open by jumping too close to the ledge.

He fed his fussy baby some popsicle while screaming at his twins to not eat near or in the pool-as if it wasn't common sense. Simon was over it. totally over it. Simon wanted to be busy, not with his carbon copies but with yard work- which he never does by the way.

By the time night fell, all of the twins friends left, Nova was napping on the couch and Simon was putting lily to sleep, rocking her back and forth.

He heard the heavy front door slam shut, and the sound of soft foot steps and the wheeling of heavy luggage. "I'm home." You said softly, kissing Nova's cheek causing her to stir in her sleep then flip over to lay on her stomach. Simon walked into the living room with lily sound asleep in his arms. Nudged by Jude and Oliver running past him to bear hug their mom, Simon smacked his teeth in irritation. He could her you shushing them, calming them down when they would get to rowdy telling you how much they missed you. He only admired the way you listened to them intently while you took your shoes off.

On the other side of the room, a grumpy Nova got up to hug her Mom, keeping her head on your shoulder while thing 1 and 2 go on and on about how their friends came over today and ruined the loft. Simon was a little bit envious, he wished he had more patience, he wished he was a lot more like you, so caring.

"I need to say Hi to Dad." You remind your 3 eldest, kissing the crown of novas head before leaving her embrace to greet your Baby and Husband. Simon flashed you a small tired smile. Before you gave him a kiss, you grabbed Lily who was resting in his arms, kissing her cheeks, only for her to whine and fake cry and then fall back to sleep after recognizing you.

Simon pecked your lips but then backed off when he heard Lily start to whine again, You chuckled before squeezing her and kissing her cheeks again.

Simon looked rough, and that made you giggle. He looked like they chewed him up and spit him out. "You tired?" You said, walking up the stairs making sure to not trip and fall. "Mhm." He hummed, following closely behind. Once you got upstairs, you turned to look at Simon who was still following you for some reason. "I'm gonna go put her down." You whispered, he nodded tiredly, blinking slowly before dragging his feet to your shared bedroom. "What a drama queen." You mumbled to a still sleeping Lily.

#lunden’s response ❀— #papa!simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #ghost simon riley #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #simon riley headcanons

[jo-speaks]

talk too much

in which…

Trevor realizes fem! reader is just like him.

Trevor and Quinn were in the living room of the infamous Michigan lake house. Quinn had unfortunately gotten there the same day Trevor did, and was now victim to one of Trevor’s rants.

“So when is Jack getting here with his girl?” Trevor asked, finally ending his hour-long rant about the flight to the lake house. 

Quinn rubbed his eyes, “They should be here any minute now. And also, she’s not his girlfriend.” Trevor gave Quinn a confused look, “Really?” “Trevor. We’ve all known her for ten years. If they were gonna date, they would’ve done so by now.” “I guess you’re right.” “Also, if she were to date any one of us, it would probably be you.” The boy raised his eyebrows, “Why do you say that?” “Because you both talk too damn much.” Quinn said, taking a sip of his water. 

The timing of his words couldn’t have been more perfect. The boys heard footsteps and the familiar sound of your voice was getting closer and closer to the door. Quinn let out a sigh of relief, getting up to open the door for you and Jack. 

As soon as Jack stepped foot in the house, he dropped his bags and ran straight for the living room. He planted face down onto the couch and let out a long groan, causing Trevor to laugh. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked. 

Jack turned his head to look at Trevor, “She’s just like you, bro. I love her, but holy shit.”

The boys knew you loved to talk, it was one of the things they loved about you and what drew them to become friends with you all those years ago. But sometimes, you didn’t know when to stop. 

They were never really annoyed with it, always ready to listen to whatever was on your mind at that moment, but sometimes their brains needed a little rest before they were able to process anything you said. 

Trevor was the only one who hadn’t realized this about you, probably because he was the exact same way. He thought you talked just the right amount and was surprised when you were able to sit down through his long hour talks without complaining. 

Quinn had walked into the living room dragging Jack’s bags with him while you followed behind with yours. You had both decided that getting the bags in your rooms was a task you’d deal with later. So for now, you set your bags down and pulled Quinn into a hug. 

“Hey Trevor!” You greeted, pulling away from Quinn to hug the taller boy.

He gladly returned it, “Hi Y/N. Any clue why Jack’s pouting right now?” You laughed at his comment, “I was telling him about my flight. Craziest thing-”

Jack and Quinn both groaned for the same, yet different reasons. Jack had already heard this story, the four hour long drive from the airport giving you plenty of time to talk his ear off, and Quinn had just got done listening to Trevor talk about the exact same thing. 

“How about we go to the boat? Luke said it’s ready to go.” Jack stated, trying to avoid hearing about your flight again. 

A warm feeling rose to your face, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. You smiled and nodded, following the boys out towards the boat. 

Trevor pulled you back gently, separating you from the other two. “I’d love to hear about your flight.” “Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. As long as you let me talk about mine.”

~✩~

The four of you spent the rest of the day out on the boat, tired out from all the wakesurfing you did.

Deciding to call it a night, you all headed back inside the house. Since everyone was dry by this point, the boys laid down on the couch, while you headed upstairs to shower. 

Stepping into the bathroom, you already felt relaxed before even stepping under the water. You pulled your hair out of its up-do then pulled your shirt over your head. Not realizing you hadn’t locked the door, the sound of it opening made you jump. 

“Oh! I’m so…” Trevor began, losing his train of thought when he saw you in nothing but a bra. 

Neither one of you moved, too stunned with what was happening. After a few seconds, he blinked rapidly, before apologizing and backing out of the bathroom. 

“Wait!” You called out. 

Trevor stopped in his tracks, focusing his attention on you yet again.

“Thanks for listening to me today. I know I’m a bit… much sometimes.” He let out a soft laugh, “I don’t think you’re too much. I think you’re perfect.” He took a few steps closer to you, “In many ways.”

You cupped his face with your hand, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. His eyes fell to your lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss you at that moment. So he did. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, which you instantly returned. 

It became heated quickly, his hands wandering the rest of your body. His hands found the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter, finding a home between your legs as they wrapped around his waist. 

You pulled away breathlessly, “Join me?”

#nhl hockey #nhl #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #anaheim ducks

[flurry-of-stars]

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈-𝕴𝓥

⋆｡°✩𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂⋆｡°✩ 𝕺𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 - 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴- 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴𝕴- 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴𝕴𝕴

⋆｡°✩𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕴𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖝 ⋆｡°✩ Slow burn romance, female reader, small age gap (Fyodor is thirty, the reader is in her early twenties.) No Abilities AU, fluff, light angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 8k 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: So sorry for the delay! Thank you all for your patience! (ಥ﹏ಥ) I would've had this out on Monday, but I just wanted to spend some extra time editing it. I hope you all enjoy ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) 𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡

The warmth caresses the side of your face, stirring you from your slumber. Tossing and turning in the comfortable confines of the bed you’re in, you murmur sleepily. It’s so soft, so warm.

You’re almost tempted to go back to sleep, if it didn’t feel like someone was watching you right now with tiny daggers in their eyes. Suddenly, something soft slaps your cheek, causing you to gasp as your eyes snap open in surprise. "Ah-!" You turn to the other side and are astonished to find the old tabby cat sitting on the bed, his paw raised as if ready to slap you again.

"Tolstoy..! Ah… what was that for?" you ask, while touching your cheek where his furry paw made contact.

You wonder what you did to offend the feline when he huffs at you, his whiskers twitching, preparing to hit you on the cheek again. You sit up quickly, satisfying the old cat. His meow is low as he goes about grooming his paw as if he didn’t just slap you with it. You groan at him, rubbing your cheek a little, grumbling, “Geez…just when I thought we were becoming friends…” You blink a few times as realisation hits you, “Wait…Tolstoy? What are you doing at my apartment?” The cat gives you an audacious side eye, his tongue rasping over his paw as you slowly look around, eyes darting about like a hummingbird. It’s a small room. Cozy though. Old mahogany desk. Blackout curtains. Smells of old books. An actually comfortable bed that doesn’t leave you with an aching back. A grumpy old cat.

Wait a minute..is this…? ‘Fyodor’s room?’ Your mind races, trying to put together why you’re here. It takes you a few moments to remember yesterday, the excursion out to the forest and the nap Fyodor had taken on your shoulder.  The way you’d watched over the beautiful pink flora before feeling quite exhausted yourself, your head drifting onto his shoulder–

Your skin burns with embarrassment.

Fyodor must’ve woken up and brought you here. That was the only conclusion you could come to. You don’t remember him doing so but you were probably too tired to realize at the time. You stretch, listening to a few of your bones pop before you rise out of bed. Now that you’re up, you watch the brown tabby saunter into your place, yawning and curling up.

“Old man. You just wanted the bed,” you grumble, fixing your clothes from the previous day. You watch the feline settle into the warm spot you left on the bed before turning your attention to the mahogany desk.

You know you shouldn’t snoop around. This is Fyodor’s private space. He trusted you enough to let you sleep in here. You shouldn’t go through his things.

But there’s no harm in looking at his desk, right?

Your eyes roam the desk, noting just how messy it is. There’s a few books scattered about, creating messy piles on his desk, some thicker than others. Some whose covers catch your eye quicker. You’re tempted to reach out and grab one to inspect it closer, but you stop yourself, hand pausing midway across the desk.

‘Let’s just look,” you remind yourself to not betray the trust Fyodor has shown you by allowing you into his room as your gaze continues it’s search. There’s a melted candle on one side of the desk. Looks like he forgot to place it on a holder. But as your gaze drifts beyond the candle, you notice a vintage photo frame hidden under some books.

You frown as you attempt to get a better look at it, hidden in the darkness provided by the book covering it from above. Humming in thought, your hand slides into your pocket, grabbing your phone.

It was almost dead and you had a few missed calls and texts from Trixie but you ignore them for now.

Turning on the flash, you guide the light towards the frame, uncovering the old photo. The frame is corroded and the glass is shattered, splintering outwards from one corner like a glass spiderweb. And yet despite having some minor sun damage, the photo inside is almost in perfect condition.

It seems to be a group photo taken at a restaurant of some kind. You recognize Fyodor almost immediately. Though it’s surprising to see him without those heavy black lines under his eyes. His expression is one you know well; calm, reserved. Mysterious. But the presence of his smile indicates that he isn’t uncomfortable with his current situation.

To his left is a man with hair as white as fresh snow, a grey and white scarf around his neck and a white overcoat over his shoulders. His smile is wide with an arm wrapped around Fyodor’s shoulders, tugging him in close, his free hand putting up a peace sign over his scarred left eye.

Next to the white-haired man sat a calmer man. Under his hands was a book, the title reading as ‘The Precipice’ when you translated it. His eyes were closed, despite the pleased look that was on his face. On Fyodor’s right was a slightly bulkier man with messy blonde hair and a cigarette in his mouth.  He was smirking at the camera like a cat who’d gotten the cream, holding up a glass of some kind of alcohol as if giving cheers to the camera. The final man was the one who seemed to be trying to fit into the frame, despite being the cameraman. You couldn’t get a good look at him, but you could see his big glasses and dishevelled light brown hair. Judging from his face- or what you could see of it- you assumed he was the youngest of the group. You look over each man in the photo, smiling softly. These had to be the acquaintances Fyodor mentioned yesterday. It was rather nice to see Fyodor surrounded by people who appeared to be enjoying his company and him, theirs.

As you tuck your phone away, you wonder how long ago the photo was taken. They seemed to be celebrating something, but it didn’t strike you as being for a birthday or marriage announcement or anything like that. Were they celebrating something related to their careers maybe?

You hum, gently resting your elbow on your wrist to softly press your knuckles against your lips. Maybe one of them had signed a contract? Perhaps finished a manuscript they’d been working on for years? Maybe it was for– “Ah, you are awake.” You almost squeal in surprise as you hear Fyodor’s voice, your thoughts shattering instantly.

You spin around, staring in absolute surprise at an amused Fyodor as he chuckles softly at your expression, “My apologies Огонёк. I thought Tolstoy had allowed you to sleep in.” His eyes wander towards his bed where the old cat is curled up, nuzzling into the warm sheets. “Good morning, Mr. Dostoyevsky,” you reply, feeling a faint warmth forming in your cheeks, your skin tingling with embarrassment for a second time this morning. You run a hand through your hair as you look towards Tolstoy, mumbling, “Yeah, you didn’t tell me your cat was pushy like that. He almost managed to get two slaps in.” Soft chuckles further escape Fyodor as he approaches you. His hand cups your cheek, a small sound escaping you as his slender finger touches your cheek.

His hands are surprisingly soft but quite cold. The tips of his fingers, however, are a tad rough. It also feels like there are a few small abrasions on his fingertips, closer to his nails. He hums, his fingertip caressing both of your cheeks before he nods, a teasing edge to his voice, “No scratches or bites. I think you’ll survive.” A soft huff escapes you as he pulls his hands back, a small chuckle on his lips as he turns away, motioning for you to come with him, “Come. Breakfast is waiting for you. You have a lot of work to do today, so you best not waste any time.” Lifting a hand, you touch your cheek slightly. His touch felt oddly nice. You don’t dwell on it for too long before you hurry after Fyodor, the scent of a freshly made meal hitting you the moment you step out of his bedroom.

Eyes wandering towards the table, you’re surprised to see a full spread for breakfast. A variety of smells flood your senses. The pleasant aroma of camomile tea. The rich smell of eggs, fried in butter. The whispering, sweet smell of blini... For a heartbeat, you wonder if you’re still in the land of dreams. Just for a moment, until you see the mountain of white paper, with more sprawled across half the dining table. Your eyes widen; Fyodor has never handed you off that many pages before. You stand there, frozen in disbelief, “M-Mr. Dostoyevsky…what is that?” Your voice falters slightly, betraying your utter astonishment at the sight before you. Taking his place at the table, a calm smirk lifts onto Fyodor’s face as he fills his cup, “That, my dear Огонёк, is the next six chapters for you to translate.”

You turn your shocked gaze to him, his teacup lifting to his lips as he takes a sip before adding, “I decided to make up for lost time yesterday. I was quite inspired after our little walk.” Six chapters. That was double what Fyodor usually gave you. Not to mention, because of your little forest walk yesterday, you still had two and a half chapters to translate meaning–

“Eight whole chapters…” you mumble quietly, shaking your head slowly as you approach the stack with caution. It was as though the pile of new chapters was like a taunting monster, teasing you of all the long hours ahead. Your wrist already ached just touching the first page for chapter ten. It looks like you were going to have to break out the old brace sooner than you expected.

Taking your seat at the table, you decide to focus on breakfast for the moment before you would inevitably be stuck sitting at this table working for the next ten hours with only a break for lunch. Just as you begin to reach over to grasp at the teapot’s handle, Fyodor speaks up. His voice is soft, though you can hear the tiredness in his voice, “Thank you for your company yesterday, Огонёк. I was…” He pauses, seeming to be thinking over his next words carefully, “In desperate need of that small moment of respite.” “You let me sleep over last night,” you reply, filling your cup with chamomile tea. You smile warmly at Fyodor, shrugging a little, “You sacrificed your bed for me. You can consider us even, Mr. Dostoyevsky. Oh and thank you for that by the way.”

Placing the teapot down with a gentle thud, you move on to filling your plate with eggs, some cold cuts and some blini, which you promptly smother with honey. “It is quite alright,” he replies, his eyes watching you carefully while you serve yourself breakfast. Once you’ve settled in and begun eating, he looks away, raising his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

A pleasant silence falls over you both as you work your way through breakfast and Fyodor seems to alternate between savouring each sip and jotting down more notes. It was nice. You wouldn’t mind sharing more mornings like this with the novelist. Something about it just feels right.

As you swallow the last bite of egg, you speak up, “I’ll cook breakfast tomorrow.” His violet eyes turn up, one of his brows raising in mild surprise. You return it with a smile, “It’s the least I can do after you spent all morning on this spread for us.” “Hmm..” He hums softly, tapping his pen against the table for a few seconds. As his pen stills, he nods, “If that is what you wish to do, then go ahead. But I will still watch over you while you cook. I do not need my assistant to lose a finger chopping up fruits for breakfast.” “Hey, I’m more careful now!” “That’s debatable.” “Wha–!” You scoff at Fyodor, glaring at him. He flashes you an amused smirk, tapping your half-full plate. “Come now, Огонёк. You shouldn’t let Olya’s cooking go to waste.” You pause. Then– “You didn’t even make breakfast?” “Did I ever insinuate otherwise?” “I was going to cook tomorrow because you cooked today!” “And I said if you wanted to cook, you could. I never once confirmed that I made this meal.” You pause again, thinking back over your conversation. You watch as Fyodor’s smirk grows, becoming more playful to your eye. You huff again, picking up your fork to stab at a blini, “Fine. Then you’re cooking with me tomorrow.” He gives you one last smirk as he raises his teacup to his lips, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Tenderly, you rub your aching wrist, eyes scanning over the translations you’ve done so far, assuring everything is correct and concise. You feel like your pen is practically dropping out of your hand as you reread one paragraph multiple times over. Your eyes droop a few times, causing you to shake your head, trying to regain your focus. You felt like you made next to no progress this week and the chapters keep piling up. After giving you those extra six chapters to translate, Fyodor added an additional four chapters throughout the week alone. You’d been confident when finishing translations for the second half of chapter seven, along with finishing chapters eight and nine, but once you moved on to the new chapters, Fyodor’s writing became more intense, more intricate, challenging you and pushing you to your limits. Even a more skilled translator would struggle. So far, through chapters one to nine, his longest chapter was forty-two pages long before you began translating.

But now the pages were multiplying like rabbits, his tenth chapter leaving you to translate almost one hundred pages. It was currently early into the night on the weekend. You’d finally finished translating it now. You had to admit, his story was becoming more interesting. You were losing yourself in the evolving narrative that had slowly grown from the story of young man, a lonely, solitary wanderer, into a budding romance. With every turn of the page, Fyodor's writing captures your imagination and intrigue.

You were hooked. As the story progresses, you've noticed the male lead's unusual ways of dealing with his feelings of friendship and now, love. Rather than expressing those feelings, he was finding odd ways to win her companionship and affection. It was peculiar, but that was what made it so fascinating to read. It was strange. Especially when the male lead had spent the past five chapters believing that the female lead understood his habit of always making her a cup of tea when she visited came from a deeper place than just accommodating a guest. But the leads have such wonderful chemistry. Great, One down. Another nine to go. ‘I have to get all these done before the writer’s convention.’ You sigh heavily, gripping your pen as your wrist throbs in pain, making your finger flinch faintly. You curse under your breath as you hold your wrist, frustration bubbling up inside of you.

You'd been unable to locate your wrist brace yet, and with another paycheck spent on ensuring both you and Fyodor had enough for meals for the fortnight, you had no money to spare on ibuprofen or a new brace, the remainder being tied up in bus fares and rent.

Settling your black and gold pen to the side, your tired, weary fingers massage your aching wrist. The pain pulses, pounding like a heartbeat.

A bitter hiss escapes your lips, "Damn it." Even from a distance, the shadow of your past still clings to you, your pounding wrist a vivid reminder of memories you've long tried to forget. A shiver runs down your spine as you reflect on the reason for your current condition. A part of you can't help but wonder if your condition is something that isn't just physical. A knock at your apartment door rouses you from your thoughts. You jolt, looking up from your spot in the darkened apartment, the only light source coming from the small television in the small open-plan dining area, propped up on a buffet table.

You groan as you stand, stretching as you call out, “One second!” You listen to your bones pop before you leave the table, moving towards your apartment door. Your apartment is a small, run down space that bears heavy traces of the previous tenants. The walls are yellowing, the air heavy with the thick scent of old cigarette smoke that was caked into the peeling wallpaper. The unmistakable musty scent of mould hangs in the air, along with the suffocating acidic tang of the vinegar you'd used to try and treat it. You were surprised mushrooms hadn't started sprouting through the floorboards. The apartment door opens into the cramped open-plan kitchen and dining room, one single lightbulb hanging over the dining room table. To your right, a small narrow hallway leads to your room and the bathroom, both hidden away in this secret, dark corner of the apartment.

Living in this apartment caused you so many struggles on the daily. Sometimes you didn’t even have enough hot water for a full shower, which was agonizing during harsh Winters.

And only one of your stove burners worked. And you couldn't use your wardrobe due to the fact it was overrun with mould. It was far from ideal. But beggars can't be choosers. This apartment had it's list of problems, but it's all you could afford. And besides, you'd lived in apartments in worse conditions that this one. Lifting your non-dominant hand, you prepare to move the small chain out of the way before twisting the door lock to the unlocked position. After all, you already had an inkling about who would be visiting you. Sure enough– “Hey! We were supposed to have a movie night tonight, remember?” Trixie stands before you, a warm smile lighting up her face. Chestnut curls cascade over her shoulders, framing her gentle face.

Dressed in a ruffled blouse and a teal-colored skirt, she manages to combine fashionable and casual, exuding a cute, chic charm with a matching ribbon tied delicately around her neck. In her left hand, she holds two boxes of pizzas, the smell of melted cheese and tantalizing toppings causing your mouth to water instantly. In her other, she carries a small plastic bag containing a bottle of your favorite wine and likely dessert to complete the meal. Her smile falters the moment she takes in your appearance, “Are you okay, bookworm? You aren’t looking too good…” You smile tiredly, stepping aside to let Trixie in. She walks in, heading to the dining room to place everything down. That’s when she comes face to face with your workspace. “Dear goodness. Is this–” “Mr. Dostoyevsky’s latest chapters,” you answer as you follow her, yawning softly. You move past her, heading to grab the only two wine glasses you own, “I’ve been up since…maybe three working on them?” “In the afternoon? Well, I’m glad you took the morning to rest.” “Ah…no…three in the morning…” The wine glasses clink gently as you slide them out of the cabinet you keep them stored in. Trixie sighs heavily, concern laced in her voice, “Darling–” “It’s not a big deal,” you insist, moving back into the dining room. You place the two glasses down before you go about packing away the accumulated pages covering the entire dining table, “I have to get all these chapters done in two weeks. Well…I guess one and a half weeks now. Mr Dostoyevsky’s agent wants us to go to the writer’s convention together.” You can hear the sadness in Trixie’s voice as she replies, “You mean the one that…? Oh, darling…” “No, no, no! I’m thrilled!” Excitement bubbles inside you as you scoop up the large stack of papers, grunting a little before flashing her a beaming smile. Her light blue eyes gaze back at you, reflecting sympathy and grief. You slip the papers onto the counter, pushing aside her melancholy, her eyes trained solely on your dream, "You know it’s always been a dream of mine to go.” “But are you sure you’re ready?” Your smile widens at the mere thought of the convention, “I’ve been ready to go since I was a child. Though do you think it would be weird if I asked Mr. Dostoyevsky if I could show off one of my dad’s books to the other authors? I could even just show it off to his friends- though he called them acquaintances, I saw the photo on his–” “Bookworm.” Trixie’s slightly stern voice catches you off guard. You snap out of your excited ramblings as she sighs. She moves closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, flashing you a sympathetic smile, “Dear…I think you may be jumping the gun a little. You're accompanying Dostoyevsky to the convention for work, yes?” You nod but before you can speak, she gently shushes you, “Bookworm, you’re going there for work. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to mix something personal with something work-related.” She tries to offer a kind smile, noticing as you bow your head a little, “You…could always still ask but remember, you’re going to this convention for your boss. Not for yourself.”

You frown deeply. You suppose you did lose sight of the real reason why you were attending this convention. But even still– You look up, your frown quirking back up into a confident smile, “I know, I know. But I want to at least ask. If he says no, I swear I’ll accept it.” Trixie’s eyes scan yours for a few more seconds before she relents. With a sigh, her smile becomes a little more genuine, her hand moving off your shoulder, “Alright…if you say so.”

Pulling back, she takes a deep breath before she speaks once more, “Now how about we enjoy our evening? I didn’t bring all this food for you to sit around and translate the night away. What movie are we watching?” Feeling a bit lighter, you sit down at the dining table, grabbing your remote and switching off the classical cello music you'd had playing on mute for the past hour. Trixie joins you, her presence adding warmth to the room as she cracks open the bottle of wine and fills the two glasses, “Well I thought we could watch–” “Twin Peaks? Again? You know that movie weirds me out!” Trixie groans, passing you a glass of wine. You giggle, sipping your wine as you flick through the other movies you had in mind. “Then how about–” “Jacob’s Ladder?? You know what?” She playfully snatches the remote from you, causing you to giggle playfully. She mischievously grins at you, flicking through the movies until she finds one to settle on. You whine playfully, making a half-hearted attempt to snatch the remote back. Though in truth, you were more than content to let her choose the movie. You were happy just enjoying your best friend's company. The movie plays as you and Trixie share your dinner, dessert and plenty of wine. You end up drinking more than she does, the wine adding to the cozy atmosphere of the evening.

As the movie nears the end, you lean your head against her shoulder, finding comfort in her presence despite the dining room chairs not exactly providing the most comfortable watching experience. Your exhaustion finally catches up with you, your eyes fluttering closed towards the end of the movie. You might have fallen asleep, were you and Trixie not left to squirm in your seats for the last twenty minutes of the film. Eventually, however, Trixie seems to get fed up. She flicks the movie off, leaving the television on to use it as a light. She groans, helping you up, your eyes fluttering open, “Alright…come darling. It’s time for bed.” “Nooo…” You whine, slowly standing up. You felt a little tipsy, your feet a tad unstable under you. Trixie’s arm snakes around your waist, helping guide you towards the bedroom as you groan and whine. “I have all my translations to do. I can’t sleep…” “I don’t want to hear it, Miss ‘Up since 3 am.’” Using her hip, she bumps open your bedroom door, carefully walking you towards the bed, “You’re going to bed and sleeping in until lunchtime. I’m sure Mr Grumpy–” A small smile tugs at her lips as she hears you giggling, “--won’t mind if the translations aren’t done before the convention.” “But he will.” You drag your words out, whining as Trixie finally gets you onto your bed. As she goes about pulling the blanket back for you and organising your pillows, you flop back onto your bed, groaning, “He’s gonna get mad at me again and scold me in Russian…” As your whines grow, you grunt as the blanket is tossed over your body, making you squirm a little. As you wiggle your way out from under the blanket, Trixie giggles at you, “You’re still not over that? That was, what, almost a month ago at this point?” “He’s gonna do it again!” You insist, continuing to whine. Trixie keeps laughing at you. In your exhausted, tipsy mind, you didn’t seem to comprehend how childish you were behaving. It was a big reason why you usually didn’t drink more than a glass at social gatherings. “Is he?” As you give a loud ‘mhm!’ in return, she shakes her head, moving over to your bedside table to pick up your phone. You sit up, sleepily rubbing your eyes as she speaks to you in a teasing, yet confident tone, “Well then I’m going to call him and give him a piece of my mind!” You snort. There was no way Trixie would actually call your boss, but it was amusing to watch as she unlocks your phone, pretending to actually be phoning Fyodor.

She giggles deviously as she holds the phone up, showing the caller ID; ‘Mr. Dostoy’ for short is what you have him saved under, along with a photo of Tolstoy curled up on some of your translations. You’re half giggling, half huffing out laughs at this point as she presses the phone to her face, sauntering around your room as she huffs into the phone, even taking fake pauses here and there to add to her performance, “Hello, Mr. Grumpy? This is Trixie and I’m the best friend of the best translator you’ve ever met this side of the globe!” You snort, laughing in amusement as she sways her hips, walking about quite dramatically as she adds, “I’m calling to tell you she isn’t going to finish translating that Mount Everest-sized pile of chapters before the writer’s convention next week and that you better just give her more time!” “My darling is over here, waking up at three in the morning, exhausting her poor tired body just to translate the chapters of your book, and I think you and I can both agree that she needs a rest!” She holds up the phone to you, covering her mouth with her hand as she speaks in what you assume to be her best attempt at a Russian accent. Unfortunately, her attempt at adopting a Russian accent sounds more like a mishmash of various accents, which just makes you laugh harder, “Why yes! Of course my…my…” She looks at you, a wide, amused grin on her face as she asks, “Psst, what’s he always calling you?”

You struggle to speak. You hold onto your sides as you laugh and wheeze, “I-I can’t–” “‘I can’t?’ That’s not a very good nickname.” She hums playfully, seeming to shrug as she sits on the edge of the bed, stopping you from rolling off in your laughter fit. “My assistant can sleep for the whole week! I want her wrapped in her favourite blanket in five minutes or I’m firing her!” “H-he would never say that–!” The image alone sends you into another eruption of giggles. “He just did though!” She grins at you, standing to put your phone back before she guides you, laughter hushing into giggles into your bed. You sigh, taking a deep breath to relax after all that laughter as she covers you with your blanket. “But you do seriously need to get some sleep, bookworm.” “Mm..” You yawn softly, watching Trixie as she moves from your side, coming to lay beside you. You roll onto your side, gazing up into the familiar light blue of her eyes, a soft hum escaping you, “Maybe I will ask him.” Trixie huffs softly, a small smile appearing on her face as she runs a hand through your hair soothingly. You close your eyes, relaxing under her touch, “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to…but are you really sure about this?” You give a soft hum of approval as you teeter between that fine line of awake and asleep. “I have to do it, Trix…his books meant the world to him.” Your heart clenches tightly in your chest. As though she can feel it, Trixie wraps an arm around you, pulling you in for a hug. “I…I have to do it…” She doesn’t give a reply. Instead, her fingers continue to run soothingly through your hair as you drift to sleep, your hands reaching up to clutch gently at her ruffled blouse. Amidst the myriad of intense smells, her expensive perfume permeates the air, its scent enveloping you in familiarity and warmth. ︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

A shudder ripples down Fyodor's spine, encouraging him to tug his cloak tighter around his body. His eyes drift towards the leaden sky, taking notice of the eerie silence surrounding them. He hadn't anticipated sitting outside today, but you had been very insistent.

The usual symphony of sparrows chirping and fluttering around the area was suspiciously absent, replaced with a sense of stillness that had his nerves on edge.

Even Tolstoy, usually eager to explore and hunt despite his old age, had refused to leave the cottage this morning. Fyodor's grip on his cloak tightens, his keen violet eyes continuing to scan the area as a chilling breeze gusts past you both. “It’s quite cold today, huh?” You remark, suddenly shattering the silence. Fyodor snaps his attention towards you, his gaze lingering on the subtle changes to your attire- a light brown scarf wrapped warmly around your neck, black fingerless gloves adorning your delicate hands. His eyes narrow thoughtfully as they settle on the brace hidden under your sleeve, wrapped tight around your wrist. He'd thought you were taking more frequent breaks compared to usual as well. “Hmm,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet laced with concern. Meeting your gaze, he holds it for a few heartbeats. With a nod, he raises his teacup to his lips, “Winter is upon us it seems.” He mumbles cryptically, his expression unreadable as he takes a sip. Today’s tea of choice was vanilla bean. It was part of the selection you had given him. What a shame the tea had gone cold. He can tell from the way you’re hesitating with your pen that something is wrong. Judging by the brace around your wrist, your carpel tunnel must be giving you some grief. With how many pages you’d translated and likely thanks to the colder weather, it was no surprise. You had even started taking chapters home to work on, so he doubted you were really giving yourself a proper break. With a sigh, he reaches over, hand gently placing over your dominant hand. He watches your eyes flutter up to meet his own as he speaks in a soft voice, “That’s enough for today, Огонёк.” You blink up at him and he watches as a mixture of shock and what almost seems to be worry crosses your features. He notices the glimmer of stubbornness in your eyes and in your tone as you reply, “But it’s early morning. There’s still another three hours until lunch.” He gives a soft shake of his head, “It doesn’t matter. You need to rest your wrist, Огонёк.” He frowns, concern etching into his features. He moves his hand, gripping the pen in yours. He can feel the tightness in your grip. Despite your pain, you don’t want to stop. “Остановись," his voice is laced with concern. He doesn’t let go of the pen as he feels your grip tightening, "Я высоко ценю твоё стремление и преданность, но это не повод становиться мученицей. Твоё здоровье для меня гораздо важнее. Не работай в ущерб себе — это не принесёт пользы ни тебе, ни мне.” He feels your grip tightening further, the pen trembling in his grip. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself to be a little more stern with you.

But then, you let the pen go. He flashes you a grateful smile, putting the pen aside to touch your jacket sleeve, over where the brace is. “I apologize, but you need to rest,” he says, voice soft and laced with care for you. “I’m sure you understand what could happen if you keep pushing your wrist like this.” “I do know,” you mumble, your eyes glued to his hand as his fingertips caress the sleeve of your coat. “But…I…” He watches you purse your lips, silencing yourself. Fyodor frowns. “Yes?” He encourages, his hand stilling over your wrist. You inhale deeply, eyes flickering between your own teacup and his hand for a moment before your eyes lift, meeting his once more. “I wanted to get all these chapters translated before the convention next week.” Fyodor blinks a few times. Slowly, a heavy sigh escapes him, “Я советую тебе притормозить. Не хочу тебя огорчать, но качество твоей работы снизилось.” He reaches across the table, picking up the latest page you’re working on, “ Для такого профессионала, как ты, это должно быть достаточным поводом осознать серьёзность последствий.” His brow furrows, his eyes reread the page a few times over. He gives a sigh, eyes turning back up to you, “Я нанял тебя, чтобы ты точно передала мою душу словами, что неродные моим устам . Так не дай моей душе потеряться в беспощадной гонке со временем.” “Like here, Огонёк. I merely described this lady as being dressed provocatively, not…well…” He grimaces a little, shaking his head in displeasure. He passes the paper back to you, noticing the faint pink hue on your cheeks.

He adds, his voice slightly more teasing now, “I’m sure a lot of readers would be displeased if I referred to her like that.” Observing your furrowed brow and anxious demeanour, Fyodor sighs inwardly, realizing quickly that his words didn't have the intended effect. With a gentle yet firm touch, his hand reaches across the table, finding yours once more as he offers a reassuring smile. “Do you understand now? I value precision over haste in your translations," he explains, his voice tender yet resolute. His fingers brush against your pained wrist, a silent reminder of the importance of your well-being.

He keeps his voice gentle, but stern, his hand gently grasping at your aching wrist. “You’ll be unable to achieve either if you need surgery for your wrist.” "Neither speed nor quality can be achieved if you jeopardize your health in the process." He watches as your eyes turn downcast towards his hand. He sees your chest expand as you take a deep, almost defeated breath, a cool breeze teasing the locks of your hair and the tassels of your scarf, “I know, I know–” “Something is troubling you,” he notes softly, eyes scanning you closely. You look up, steadily meeting his eyes.

He hums thoughtfully as he leans forward, staring perhaps a little too deeply into your eyes, judging by how you pull back a little. His hand moves, now lying over yours as he gives it a tender squeeze, “What’s weighing on your heart?” You huff softly, looking up at him. He watches your lips quirk into a soft smile, a tint of amusement around the edges, “You read the other translations I wrote on that page too, huh?” He flashes you a small smile, confirming your theory. He listens to your soft giggle for a moment before you grow more serious. 

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Dostoyevsky?” He gives a little nod, encouraging you to continue. He can hear the slightly strained tone of your voice. Your drumming fingers of your free hand against the outdoor table. The way your brow is furrowing. The way you take a few soft, deep breaths before finally speaking once more. “The writer’s convention is next week. And I…” You roll your head, eyes scanning upwards before darting to your left. You’re struggling to get the words out.

“Look, I understand completely that this is for your work as an author. Vivian wants us to go on business. It’s like your first big step as a no longer anonymous author, or…something!” He huffs softly, slightly amused by how you’re phrasing it right now. You continue, eyes darting towards the lake now as you tilt your head in that direction as well, “But this writer’s convention…well..it could be my last chance to…well…” When you finally meet his eyes once more, he feels his heart skip a beat, his eyes widening slightly. It’s the first time he’s seen your eyes gleam like this. He’s seen the stubborn hardness to them before. The gentle amusement. The twinkle of pure excitement. Even the whisper of worry. There’s a burning in your eyes. Yet, this isn't merely a flame; it's an inferno—a fervent forest fire blazing deep within the recesses of your being. It crackles with an unyielding ache, an insatiable burning desire, visible in the fervour that blazes forth from your eyes, igniting the world around you with its intensity. Fyodor feels breathless simply gazing into your fire, his mind reeling back to the venture into the hidden grotto just last week. The way your voice shook with genuine raw emotion.

The bitter anger that bit at the edges of your words, the simmering resentment towards those few who had denied someone their dream, crushing it as though it meant as little as the dirt beneath their feet. ‘They mean everything to me.’ “You want to bring one of your father’s storybooks,” Fyodor deduces, his voice breathless as he stares at you, your passionate fire almost engulfing him. It falters for a moment as you blink in surprise. It looks like you’d underestimated just how attentive Fyodor could be. He watches your gaze turn away, that fire engulfed in waves of sudden bashfulness that make him want to chuckle.

But he holds his tongue, listening to your soft tone, “Yes…I know, I know, the convention is for work reasons–” You’re starting to ramble again. Fyodor felt his lips tugging upwards. You were cute when you were like this. “--But I just want to bring the last book he wrote. I just….it feels like…” You groan, lifting your hand from his, running both of your hands through your hair as you struggle to fully express yourself.

A soft hiss escapes you, the pain of your carpel tunnel pausing your motions. “Easy, Огонёк, easy…” He reaches up, gently grasping your sore wrist in the palm of his hand, using his other to rub soothing circles around the brace. He sighs, gazing understandingly at you, “Sometimes the heart screams words of such fierce passion, your mind cannot find a way to convey them through speech properly. It is alright…” He keeps rubbing soothing circles on your wrist, humming softly before he continues, “I understand. It would mean a great deal to you if you could present one of his stories to the authors that will be present…”

He frowns a little, his eyes lingering on your brace, his fingers gently caressing it. “However, we will be attending with other authors. Well-known names around these parts and good…” He pauses for a heartbeat. “Acquaintances of mine. Vivian will be expecting us to stay with them for the duration of the event.”

He frowns a little as you look down, reminding him of a sad puppy before he adds. “But–” His heart sparks as you lift your gaze, eyes full of hopefulness as he speaks, “--I will ask Vivian if it will be alright for you to pitch it to a few authors at the end of the convention.”

A small smile graces his lips as he sees the joy lighting up your face, "I don’t think it would be appropriate to show it to my acquaintances. It could create a conflict of interest. But there will be many other fantastic authors you can pitch it to." A surprised sound escapes Fyodor as he feels your hand slipping from his. He watches in astonishment as you spring up from your seat, moving fast as you bound over to him like a rabbit. Your arms envelop him in a tight hug, catching him off-guard. For a moment, Fyodor freezes, his eyes widening as he inhales the soft floral scent of your perfume. He feels the warmth of your gratitude radiating from your embrace, a sense that goes beyond just physical warmth. As your arms tighten slightly, he feels that familiar spark igniting in him, a flicker of something unfamiliar yet undeniable. It stirs the waves of emotion in his heart, leaving him momentarily breathless. “Thank you, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” You whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you so, so much…” He swallows hard around the lump forming in his throat as he struggles to find the right words. His hand trembles faintly as he reaches out, giving you a few soft pats on the shoulder.

Sensing his desire for space, you pull back to smile rather awkwardly at him. He notices the tears glistening in your eyes, a silent testament to the depth of your gratitude before you swipe them away. “It is fine,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he takes a moment to collect himself. His throat feels constricted as he tries to swallow down that heavy lump wedged inside.

The ember of warmth in his heart burns with renewed intensity, threatening to ignite into a powerful flame. With shaky breaths, he attempts to quell the rising flames, to extinguish that familiar warmth before it consumes his heart. Closing his eyes, he focuses on each breath he takes, willing the flames to subside. “Mr. Dostoyevsky? Are you–?” He lifts a hand, halting your inquiry. Silently, he battles the storm of emotions raging within him; gradually, the ember dwindles, leaving behind only a faint flicker nestled deep in his heart. Opening his eyes, he offers you a small, apologetic smile. You’re looking at him with those worried eyes once more, just as he expected. “I apologize for causing you concern, Огонёк,” he says, his voice steady despite the lingering turmoil within. “I simply needed a moment to compose myself. I am well now." “Are you certain?” You move closer towards him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. In response, he rises abruptly, stepping away from your touch. His cloak billows in the breeze, creating a physical barrier between you. “Yes. Although I think it is time we moved our work inside. I believe it's about to–” “--Snow.” Your awed tone catches Fyodor’s attention; his violet eyes turn towards you swiftly, then it darts towards the sky, eyes wide as his heart clenches tightly, noticing the delicate flakes as they gracefully descend. You watch the first flakes drift quietly to the ground, reaching out a hand to catch one. It lands daintily on your glove, instantly melting into the soft cotton, disappearing as if it hadn’t existed to start with. You’re about to reach for another when you hear quick footfalls behind you.

You spin around, your eyes falling on Fyodor as he hurries towards the garden table,  “Come,” he says to you, his voice quiet and calm. He begins gathering the chapter you’re translating and the finished pages, scooping them close to his chest. He turns, hurrying towards his cottage with fast steps. “H-hey, Mr. Dostoyevsky–!” You watch as he disappears inside, a frown forming on your lips as flakes of pure white fall around you. They cascade down, twirling like tiny dancers as they make their journey to the earth but you barely notice them. Carefully picking up the teapot with your good hand, along with the teacups, you quickly scurry after Fyodor, heading into the cottage. You squeak, Fyodor almost running into you as he quickly heads out of the living area towards the kitchen. You follow him, listening to the sound of curtains being yanked shut. As you step into the kitchen, you set down the teapot and cups with a gentle clink. The murmurs of Fyodor reach your ears, his words too faint to understand. Your gaze lifts, noticing the way he shakes and shifts the curtain, making sure it’s completely obscuring the window. This was unusual behavior for Fyodor. While he always closes the curtains when it is overcast, he's never displayed such agitation about it before. His muttering and meticulous attention to the curtain's exact placement is a new, unsettling trait. “Mr. Dostoyevsky?” You carefully break the silence, your voice tinged with concern. At the sound of your voice, his muttering subsides. With care, you approach him, gently cradling your braced wrist. “Are you alright? You seem a little…stressed.” He doesn’t turn to face you immediately, his shoulders rigid with tension. His breath comes in shallow, uneven intervals, causing his chest to rise and fall in a staccato rhythm. Slowly, he turns to face you, violet irises lingering on your face for a few seconds too long before he finally speaks. “Yes, everything is fine.” His voice is strained as he moves towards the table, picking up the teapot, his facade of calmness already faltering. As he does so, you glance at his hands, noticing that they’re trembling slightly. You catch a glimpse of his face, noticing that he's clenching his jaw tightly as well.

He moves towards the kettle, preparing to reheat the tea still inside the pot. He lifts the lid, the sweet aroma wafting through the kitchen. “You’re shaking…” You point out, taking a small step towards him as the window rattles behind the closed curtain as the wind begins to whistle, its mournful tone sneakily creeping inside through cracks in the window frame. It looks like the wind is picking up, “If something is bothering you, you can talk to me.” You reach out to him as the kettle bubbles softly, steam rising from the white jug. Your hand lightly rests on his shoulder, “I’m here to listen.” Suddenly, Fyodor jolts away from your touch, his dark eyes staring down at you. Your stomach twists in knots as he gives you a stern look, the coldness in his eyes rivalling that of the falling snowflakes outside, “I said I am fine. You are needlessly worrying over nothing.” Your throat tightens faintly as you draw your hand back. You frown, watching quietly as he refills the teapot before turning his eyes to you once more. His tone is less stern now, “Go and sit in the living room. I’ll light the fireplace shortly.” With a heavy heart, you obey Fyodor's command, retreating to the living room. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of the unspoken tension hanging in the air. You settle into the window seat, wrapping your orange coat tighter around your body, its warmth failing to dispel the lingering chill in your heart, leaving you to ponder what had gotten into Fyodor. The silence between you echoes louder than any words that could be spoken, leaving a lingering sense of uncertainty in your heart. Fyodor sighs, lifting a hand to rub his temple a few times. Great. Just great.

𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 1. Stop. I appreciate your drive and dedication, but that is not a reason to become a martyr. Your health is much more important to me. Don't work to your detriment - it won't benefit either you or me. 2. I advise you to slow down. I don't want to upset you, but the quality of your work has decreased. For a professional like you, this should be enough reason to realize the seriousness of the consequences. I hired you to accurately convey my soul with words that are not native to my lips. So don't let my soul get lost in a merciless race against time. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @livelaughyo @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog @soggyoreoinmilk @verminthorr @cherridove Dividers by @/Saradika

#bungou stray dogs #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #Flurry-of-writing

[chosoisamalewife]

I’m already gone

Character: choso x m!reader, yuji x reader (PLATONIC)

Warnings: character death! SPOILERS FOR 259

A/N: This wasn’t requested, just sort little something because I love pain 😭✌️

A/N: GOJO NEXT

A/N: THE TIMELINE IS DIFFERENT TO MAKE IT FLOW BETTER.

🎵Listen to already gone by sleeping at last🎵

Growing up in the world of sorcery, you were taught that curses were evil. They were ugly and were the most vilest things on this earth, but then you met him. Choso, a hybrid between a curse and a human, and he was beautiful. He was introduced to you as yuji's half-brother. You were erie of him at first, not understanding how could a curse be good. Even if he was only half, over time, you and him grew closer. You began to see he was more human than anything. He had more humanity than most humans. His soul and everything about him were beautiful l, even during the moments he didn't feel beautiful. Those moments were he cried into your chest, that he was a monster. You never understood how he could think that. The love that he showed you and his brothers was love that monsters couldn't possess.

He was the best thing to ever happen to you. He was kind and gentle to those he loved. He cherished and projected y'all like his life depended on it.

You were currently out of fighting during an injury. Choso told you not to stay awake waiting for him to return, but you never listened anyway. It always ends with him coming home to you asleep on the couch. This night was no different. One moment, you were lying there watching the tv, and then the next, you were asleep. It was a beautiful, peaceful dream. You and choso were at the beach enjoying the waves and the sun. It was empty there as if it were only you and him on the earth. No other soul, no curses, no fighting just each other

He was chasing you around the beach, the sound of yours and his laughter being music to your ears. Then, all of a sudden, he stops and just stares at you. The action caused you to stop in your tracks too. You took a breather for a second before walking up to him. "Hey, what's wrong?" You brought one of your hands to his cheeks, caressing the apples of them gently. He nuzzled against your hand slightly before bringing his hand up to yours.

"Nothing is wrong, this is perfect." He smiled so gently at you. He cupped your cheeks, his hands bringing your lips to his. He kissed you so softly as if you were the most fragile piece of glass. Then he pressed his forehead against yours. " I love you," He whispered to you. "You couldn't have loved me better, thank you." He pressed longing kissed on your head.

You let out a little giggle, "There's no need to thank me, silly." His arms rested around you and slowly caressed you back

“I know, I just wanted to also so you don’t forget.” You could hear his voice break a little bit

“Cho don’t get sad on me baby, we’re happy and plus you’ll be back soon and we can do nothing but be with each other” He nodded his head at your words. You quickly escaped from his grasp and started running. “Now come get me lover boy”You yelled back, it caused he to start chasing after you full force.

You were awakened from your slumber by a knock at the door. It was yuji. He looked distressed, and he was crying. "Hey, are you okay." He quickly shook his head, and his lips started quiver. You quickly brought him into a hug not rushing him to get his words. He was sobbing into your shoulder. You could barely make out the words he was saying, but then you heard a broken "I'm sorry" and "choso"

"What?" The world felt like it stopped spinning and had begun to crumble around you. Your chest felt heavy, it felt like you could get air into your lungs. You pulled away from the crying boy and walked slowly to the couch you were previously sleeping on. He followed you in and set on the couch with you. You deep breaths, trying to keep your composure.

"I'm sorry, he sacrificed himself for me. I didn't know he was going to do that. Everyone keeps dying around me, and I can't do anything to stop it. It's all my fault." He barely gotten through his words with the hiccups and the crying. You gently pushed his head onto your shoulder.

"It's not your fault yuji. Choso was selfless, he would do that thousands and thousands of times again even if he knew the outcome. Which he did, and that's why he did it." Your voice was breaking and cracking, but you just gave him a soft smile trying to comfort the young boy.

Eventually, exhaustion hit yujiand he slept on your couch. You laid alone in the quiet room, the only noise were your wails. The pillows that still smelt like choso were soaked with your tears as you held it tightly to your body.

"Wake up, you have to wake up. This is just a nightmare, you'll wake up." You spoke to yourself in between your wails of sorrow and pain. In reality, you knew the truth. This is reality and he was truly gone. He will always be gone

I ADDED YUJI AND READER COMFORTING EACH BECAUSE THAT POOR BOY NEVER HAS TIME TO GREIVE AND HE DESERVES SOME AND COMFORT

BYE Y'ALL ✌️😭, I HATE YOU GEGE

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x male reader #male reader #choso #jjk #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk x reader #choso x male reader #jjk choso #x reader

[pinkanonhopes]

the way i am terrible at remembering to spend time outside so i have to schedule it and try and find reasons to spend time outside in the sun

#1. going to the beach!! #2. reading at the park #3. going out with friends (works best if at night so it's not boiling hot) #4. going on nature walks??? might be harder to do but oh well we will try #5. going on walks around the city. best if in workout clothes and if i plan to shower later on so i don't worry about the sweat and the hea #i am accepting suggestions guys i am terrible at this #leo scrive #oh oh oh oh 6. listening to podcasts/discographies of my fav artists #i really really need to do these things #my bestie (u know who u are) recommended an awesome podcast that i only listened to like two times but it was so good????? #(the matcha diaries) #only stopped cause i had little time to go out and listen to it. it was awesome though.

[loverboybitch]

hi yall im back from being in the woods for two days with some of my friends and every part of me is so sore and tired and exhausted but i had such a nice time, also this is pretty much the only pic i took on my phone before it died. could not tellu who that is or what was happening but it might be my friend falling into the lake cause he tried to stand in a kayak while drunk.//.

#imjustsittinghere #uploads #literally slept on the doc under only a blanket and the stars it was very beautiful except for the mosquittos #we made all our meals in a cast iron pan in the campfire < #very cool little day we just kayaked around and got wreckedlol #wish i could have like a decompress session lol 1 because i am exhausted but 2 because feelings and my friends both said some things to me #while absolutly off their fiucking rockers #my one friend going 'NO shut up i need to vibe with shane rn. listen. we wont remember any of this but i hope we grow old together' #baby......baby!!!! u mighta done too much k and not remember but baby i remember<3 same <3 #my other frined who i have always thought is jus so cool and charismatic n hot stopping me mid sentence to say 'god ur so much cooler thanme #shutup!!!!!!!!! but also i love you thank you <3 #anyway anyway im a little sunburnt n i have to fucking work a shift tonight lol shoot me in the dome please #but also im so tired n sore n i want to lay in bed and have someone rub my back honestly #oh lastly will probably elaborate at some point but yo just not being able to get texts cause i had no service then my phone died #for two days was like...blis.......... #whenever we werent doing something iwas jus looking at the stars or thinkin or getting firewood r somethn #was a grand ol time <3 also cause we wantd to do bushcraft shit #we endedup making a torch out of tree sap and some old carpet and yarn and it kinda worked!!! for like 15 minutes at least! #definetly coulda been better but good first try #also some of the sap dripped onto my hand and i have a big gross blister burn scab thing gross ouchie

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

but daddy i love him! // theodore nott x fem granger reader

playlist : but daddy i love him - taylor swift

summary : being hermiones slightly younger , less intelligant and more reblellious sister, it is your duty to have a boyfriend no one approves of to match.

y/n used , gryffindor granger reader , swearing

masterlist PART 2!

"merlin hes so hot" you whined with you head in your hand , staring across the hall at theodore nott.

hermione shuddered in disgust , "yeah and hes a terrible person."

"mione hes really not , just because hes slytherin doesnt mean hes some kind of horrific monster," you rolled your eyes , finally looking away from theodore and looking at hermione across from you.

"dont mix your delusion with reality y/n. him and his friends have bullied us since first year," hermione snapped back.

"whos us? ive never been teased by him before but stay safe i guess," you argued , getting more annoyed by the second.

"you cant be with him y/n , not only does he not do relationships , clearly , hes not good for you!"

"oh but daddy i love him!" you said in a mocking childish tone.

"did you just call hermione daddy?" ron cringed inbetween his quick eating.

"its a little mermaid reference ronald." you said sternly , judging the boys messy consumption of the food on his full plate.

"whats a little mermaid reference?" he mocked.

you, hermione and harry all looked at him with pure shock , forgetting ron wasnt really accustomed to muggle films , "please educate your man mione."

she gasped in pure horror as ron pretened to gag , they both argued over eachother throwing loud defenses and digs at eachother.

"look! i would actually rather die than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning!!" you shouted over them , silencing their arguing as harry nodded along with your statement.

"y/n i dont mean to stir the pot but i dont really think nott is a great partner either," ron said with disgust.

"thanks for that ron! wanna add your two cents harry? seems like everyone cares who i have silly crushes on nowadays!" you fumed , turning to the twins who sat on the table besides you , "good morning george , fred, would you like to give your opinion on theodore nott?"

"hate him," fred stated plainly.

"i always target him in quidditch," george quickly followed with a shrug as you let out a defeated groan.

you turned back to the trio , crossing your arms in anger , "im going to go see ginny , see what she thinks of all this , she always supports me unlike you little goblins!"

"yeah cause ginny has a crush on basically every guy," ron scoffed.

"atleast ginny can admit when she has feeling for someone and doesnt pine on her best friend for years! atleast she isnt in denail!" you said smugly as hermione and ron squirmed in discomfort , blushing.

you abruptly stood up from the table , beginning to stomp away when harry shouted after you , "have a great day mrs nott!"

you turned to look at him , flipping him off before shouting back , "aw you too mr weasley!".

harry blushed as ron looked between the two of you , "shes insane , calling you weasley , what weasley could you possibly marry!"

ron scoffed and continued eating his food as harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and exchanged a look with hermione.

---

you now found yourself storming the corridors , looking for ginny when someone fell into step besides you , their deep voice making you shudder.

"hello mrs nott."

you stopped in you tracks and looked besides you in horror , theodore smirked down at you.

"erm hi," you mumbled quietly , face deep red in embarrassment. how could you forget the whole time that theodore had been sat with his friends on the table across from you?!

"dont go all shy on me now , i liked how you defended me." he smirked.

"i was really just joking dont get excited ," you teased , finally shaking your shyness.

"didnt sound like a joke to me? you got really worked up granger," he still held his smug expression , eyes peircing yours even when you didnt look back.

"look nott , i just like picking fights with them its funny to tease them." you shrugged continuing your walk as theodore followed still looking at you the whole time.

"go out with me," he said sternly as you paused again.

"are you being serious?" you said trying to seem not as interested as you truly were.

he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the empty classroom besides you , pushing you against the door to shut it.

he put one hand beside your head on the door and the other playing with your hair and grazing your cheekbone , "dead serious."

you looked at him , finally silent for the first time in your life , your silence allowing him to continue , "you can say you dont like me all you want. that its jokes , that its just to get a reaction. but i think we both know its more than that."

"im not gonna be one of your girls nott , im not like that. sure i have a different type to my sister but that doesnt mean i go for fucking man whores who just wanna get me in their bed."

"ouch , your words hurt me, bella. ive never touched a single girl asides from you. ive waited for you." he said softly.

"basically every person in this school says otherwise nott."

his hand that was resting on the door cleched into a first tightly , "stop calling me nott. its theo to you."

"why do you care?" you asked as his frustration grew.

he stared at you now with cold eyes , danger in them like he was staring at his prey. you simply looked back , folding you arms and watching as his eyes flicked down your face.

"dont play hard to get. you practically announced your love for me a second ago y/n." he mumbled.

"sure. ill go out with you, charity work." you joked as he finally dropped his anger and laughed.

"i like it by the way," he said looking up with a smirk as you stared back with confusion , " 'mrs nott,' it suits you."

"hm i dont know. ive always been kinda progressive , mr granger," you smirked before pushing him away with one hand and walking out of the classroom, leaving him to stare at your figure.

the second you found ginny you practically screamed in her face with excitement , "ginnny you will not BELIEVE IT!!"

PART 2

#harry potter x reader #harry potter #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott #theodore #nott #hp #hp fandom #x reader #hp fanfic #slytherin #slytherin x reader #hermione granger #ron weasley #golden trio #grenger #draco malfoy x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #taylor swift #but daddy i love him #the tortured poets department #the stars are brighter tonight masterlist

[tired-biscuit]

i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!

he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.

always in a good way when it’s with him.

especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.

but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.

however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.

but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.

he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.

you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.

this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.

because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.

if only you could just—

“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”

“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.

“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.

“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.

it seems like you’re no quitter either.

“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”

you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.

maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.

“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.

unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.

it’s definitely progress.

and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.

#he’s such a cutie pie sweetie honey bebi sweetheart!!!!!!! #i love him soooo much #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuji smut #yuji x reader #itadori smut #biscuit drabbles

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

TW: Obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual." 

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth. 

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship. 

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave. 

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you. 

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window. 

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing. 

That settles it. 

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way. 

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with. 

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless. 

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency. 

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant. 

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops. 

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback. 

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily. 

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up. 

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend. 

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly. 

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza." 

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts. 

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your  coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly. 

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger. 

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry. 

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably. 

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape. 

The blonde man stares at you. 

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it. 

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach. 

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?" 

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body. 

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up. 

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm. 

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm. 

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part. 

Bonus: Daitou's backstory 

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect. 

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas." 

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up. 

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement. 

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances. 

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry. 

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid." 

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you. 

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection. 

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking, "if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up. 

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat. 

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus. 

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair. 

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #female reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #oc x reader #male yandere x reader #x reader #yandere scenarios

[midnightcrw]

Provocative

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Summary: Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he sees a good friend he hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: Swearing, even though it's only one swear word (this is fluff, by the way)

a/n: Since you all wanted a second part, I finally wrote one, although I really wasn't sure how to continue. I tried my best, and unfortunately, I'm not that happy with it, but hopefully, you all will like it somehow / Part 1

A headache threatened to make itself known as you looked unimpressed as the King of Hell shook your shoulders, causing you to rock back and forth.

"Did your parents drop you on your head when you were a kid?" Lucifer asked in a desperate tone, not wanting to believe that you and Alastor were a thing (obviously still not knowing that you're married to each other).

"Maybe," you said nonchalantly, ready to push him away if he didn't stop shaking you.

"But-" that's it, you thought as you pushed Lucifer's hands away from your shoulders, surprising him by that before cupping his face in your hand, squeezing his cheeks tightly as he stared at you with wide eyes.

"Listen to me," you began in a stern tone, glaring at him, making him visibly swallow. "You're going to let your daughter show you around, or I'm going to skin you infront of everyone."

With that, you let go of his face as you dusted off your hands, as if you had touched something dirty.

The rest of the residents could only stare with shocked expressions. Fortunately, they hadn't heard what you had said, but from what they had seen, it was definitely intense, as no one would dare do such a thing to the Ruler of Hell.

Though Alastor didn't look shocked, he seemed to be fuming as one of his eyes twitched while the crazed grin never left his face.

"Okay... Anyway, Dad. Look at this lovely parlor where people can get to know each other and share secrets and stories and intimate feelings!" The excitement was vivid in Charlie's tone as she had her beautiful smile on her face.

She was already trying to move on, wanting to make her point to her dad and you appreciated the fact that you weren't in the spotlight anymore.

Thinking that you were finally getting some peace, you sighed in relief before you felt Alastor's head on top of yours.

"Tell me, darling. How long have you known this little pesky, but surely powerful man?" The 'powerful' was emphasized, as the static seemed to get even more grating with his snippy tone.

Alastor was not the jealous type, you knew that. But he always had his moments, loving to meddle in other people's affairs while hiding his own.

Huffing, you turned around and looked up at him, "While you were gone for seven years, I might have befriended him."

The anger was evident in your voice as you did not explain further. Not only had your husband left you for a few years out of nowhere, but now he was suddenly trying to pry information out of you.

Alastor just laughed at your answer and shook his head while your hands clenched into fists.

And before you could curse him, he suddenly moved much closer, almost pressing his forehead against yours. "Surely for nothing of lustful nature," he whispered sharply, sounding almost disgusted as he uttered the word 'lustful'.

"Maybe I should have," two could play this game, and you certainly weren't going to back down now, since he loved to provoke you so much.

Hearing your reply, the static increased as his antlers grew before he suddenly disappeared in front of your eyes, now standing further away from you.

"Charlie has a very unique vision," your husband began as he approached Charlie, speaking very animatedly, "I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests," he said, placing his hand on the blonde's shoulder as she thanked him.

Of course, seeing that didn't make Lucifer happy at all, since he was already planning to kill Alastor when he got the chance.

And to be honest, at this point, you couldn't care less, almost ready to encourage Lucifer.

"Quite an impressive young lady. We're all very proud of her." The man dressed in red knew what he was doing as he pulled Charlie closer.

Somehow, even though he was angry, the short man managed to steer the conversation to another topic, such as getting introduced to the rest of the people in the hotel.

With a smile on her face, Charlie pulled Vaggie near her, "This is Vaggie. She's my girlfriend."

You had probably never seen Lucifer so relieved as a grin made its way across his face, "Oh my golly, you like girls?"

You truly wanted to bang your head against something, knowing that he was going to embarrass himself.

"Yes, so do I. We have so much in common. You put her there, Maggie," he said as he pulled Vaggie into a bone crushing hug, making her a bit uncomfortable with his enthusiasm.

"He didn't even get the name right..." you muttered, rubbing your temple in frustration.

And of course, it wouldn't be Alastor if he didn't continue to annoy you further, "Everything all right, my sweet?"

"Would be much better without you here," you said, avoiding eye contact, not wanting to deal with him right now.

"Is that so?" Alastor whispered in your ear with a toothy grin on his face, looking pleased with himself as you flinched at the sudden closeness.

All you could do was exhale sharply as you stepped away from him, even though he teleported right back into your personal space.

Ignoring him, you just watched the rest of the residents.

"Hello, I clean." Niffty giggled to herself as she grabbed hold of Lucifer's coat, causing him to stare at her with an uncertain expression on his face.

"Don't you dare throw the chandelier to the floor," you whispered, already one step ahead of him.

"Oh, and how well you know me," Alastor said in a delighted voice, and now you wished you hadn't told him that, because it seemed that another plan was brewing in that big head of his.

Without warning, your husband suddenly put an arm around your waist as he walked you closer to the rest of the people.

"You must be proud of Charlie since she has already found people who want to redeem themselves," the grin didn't leave his face as usual as the attention was once again back on you and Alastor.

Lucifer's eye twitched as he looked at you, not liking the fact that the deer was holding his friend so close.

"Sure I am," the short man said as he pulled you out of the radio demon's grip, causing the static to be heard.

"Doesn't seem like it," Alastor said quickly, jumping to the next topic before Lucifer could interject in annoyance, "I even remember the exact moment Charlie needed help, and of course, being the perfect gentleman, I couldn't help but lend a hand." He chuckled to himself as he suddenly grabbed your hand, wanting to pull you to him, but Lucifer didn't let go of your hand, but nonetheless he continued to talk anyway.

"You could almost call me dad," Alastor said with a sinister grin as both men continued to pull on your hand.

"Surely no one would call you that," the King of Hell said with contempt in his voice as he glared at your husband and suddenly turned his eyes to you, "I promise you, you can do better than this. Have you seen his haircut?"

"I see it every day," you muttered.

Charlie didn't seem to be in a better mood than you, as she let herself fall onto the sofa while Vaggie patted her head. And somehow Angel Dust was eating popcorn, even holding the popcorn bag in front of the Princess of Hell as she started to eat some of it while they all watched the three of you.

"In fact, she sees it every day and every night," Alastor added with a crazed look in his eyes as he started to get annoyed.

The look on Lucifer's face was hilarious. One would really like to see his reaction if he knew that Alastor wasn't interested in anything sexual, but just loved to anger people, especially those who didn't pay attention to him.

"Nobody wants to see that atrocity!"

"Well, she loves it!"

"She doesn't!"

And before things could get worse, Husk suddenly said, "Mimzy is here."

With that, your eyes widened as you looked towards the entrance while the men stopped pulling on your hands.

Oh and how you hated her.

"Surely you all missed me!" The voice of the beautiful little woman was heard, clearly directed at your husband.

Fuck no, you thought.

Taglist

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#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fluff #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor fanfiction #alastor x reader

[say-al0e]

Cling

Rating: M | This is smut! Minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much. Warnings: Unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), blink and you'll miss it angst. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader Words: 5.5k

Though the sun had long disappeared, dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and reds hours ago, the scent of artificial coconut and chlorine lingered as you lounged beside the Harrington pool.

The kids disappeared with Eddie the moment the sky tinted pink, off to finish a campaign they spent much of the day discussing, and Robin followed soon after with a weak excuse designed to hide her true destination of Vicky’s house - despite the fact that you all knew.

That left you and Steve, always the last two standing.

Steve stretched out on a lounge chair to your left - sunglasses resting atop his head, t-shirt forgotten somewhere in the backyard, garishly patterned swim trunks resting low on his hips. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly, though you knew he was far from sleep.

Regardless, you took the chance to study him in the rare moment of silence.

The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were tinted pink, not burned enough to cause concern but clearly effected by his time in the sun. His hair was wild and beginning to curl, free of gel and still a little damp from his last dip in the pool. The weeks of swimming, back in the pool where he spent so much time growing up, had toned his arms - his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs - and you could see the result of his resumed habits so clearly.

A swath of hair covered his chest, tapered into a faint line that disappeared into the band of his trunks, and you were struck by just how many times you’d been here - sitting to his right, smelling of chlorine and coconut. Over a decade of friendship, more than half your life, and you’d witnessed Steve go from a lanky boy to a confident twenty-something. 

Moments like this reminded you of why your best friend was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Hawkins and why, somewhere along the line, you joined the long list of those desperate for him to give you the time of day.

Only, you were lucky enough to be one of the few that had Steve’s full attention. There was little question that he knew everything - nearly everything, not this, never this - there was to know about you. Even less of a question that you would be sharing his bed later on, though not in the way you’d secretly started to want.

“Quit starin’ at me, creep.” Steve’s voice came then, before you could begin to spiral and question whether you could handle another night of sleeping beside him - wrapped in his embrace, his sheets, his scent - and you hummed.

“Just seeing if I need to get the aloe,” you teased, hoping it sounded as light as you meant it. “Should’ve listened to me, when I told you to put on sunscreen.”

Steve laughed. “You mean I should’ve sat still while you attacked me with it. I would’ve, if you’d given me some warning. Not nice to just start mauling a guy.”

“I know you dream about me mauling you.” The deflection was easy, reflexive, and accompanied by a laugh that rang a touch hollow in your own ears but Steve huffed, good-natured, anyway.

“Hm. Think that’s the other way around.” He cracked open an eye, then, and turned his head to glance at you while you reached for his half-empty beer in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Please,” you scoffed, though it was weaker than you intended. “I can’t get you to stop touching me.”

Despite his upbringing - or, really, because of it - Steve sought physical affection in those closest to him. It was true that he hadn’t stopped touching you over the course of your friendship, hugs and holding hands and cuddling on the couch. There was never any hesitation, never any awkward shuffling or adjusting. It was as natural as breathing, comfortable, and lately, you savored every brush of his skin against yours.

Still, Steve waved a dismissive hand and reached for the pack of cigarettes he discarded on the table after the kids left. “Sure.” He lit one, fixed you with a teasing grin as he took a drag. “Easy for you to say when you’re the clingiest person I know.”

The observation was not unkind. If anything, it was soft - fond. It was a joke he’d made before, once or twice, but the label ‘clingy’ struck a nerve that he likely had no idea even existed. One that hadn’t existed until recently.

There was a conversation that you weren’t supposed to hear. It was Eddie, asking the kids if he had a chance - whether you and Steve were, you know, a thing - and their varying responses. He only asked because of how close you were, he explained, how often Steve had an arm around you or you clasped his hand in yours.

Someone, you didn’t catch who because the words rang harsh in your ears, dismissed his concerns with the dreaded refusal, “Just friends.” Though another followed it with, “I’d be annoyed if I were Steve. She’s always all over him and they’re not even dating. So clingy.”

Eddie laughed, as did the others, and you waited just beyond the door for a few moments to pretend that you hadn’t heard.

After, you tried to distance yourself, if only a little, without arousing Steve’s suspicions. Despite being called clueless, unobservant or even stupid, despite his difficulty connecting the dots, there was little about you that escaped his notice. It was difficult to create space when none had existed since you were children and, clearly, you hadn’t done a very good job, anyway.

“Yeah, well, I’ll unstick myself from your side.” You intended the quip to be teasing, a joke that earned you a laugh or a soft swat as you passed him by, but it came out wrong. The words were acidic, tasted bitter in the back of your throat as they rolled off your tongue, and you could see him wince from the sting of them as you stood from your chair. “I’m gonna go shower,” you deflected, unable to look at him. “Chlorine’s burning my eyes.”

Steve sat upright as you gathered your towel and discarded clothes, your empty soda can and the tube of tropical sunscreen. He stubbed out his cigarette and reached out, hand searching for yours and coming up empty for the first time in a long time.

“Wait,” he urged, rising to his feet as you busied yourself with removing any trace of your presence from the immediate vicinity. “Did I… what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn’t -“ His brows furrowed as he lifted the hand you avoided and carded it through his hair, sighing when you winced at the sound of his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“You didn’t - it’s nothing.” Steve tipped his head, an attempt to catch your eye as you blinked back the stinging sensation - chlorine, really, and overwhelmed, traitorous tears. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his face. He wore a concerned frown, warm eyes raking over your form as he recounted the last few moments, before he winced. “Oh. Shit. Hey, you know I’m joking,” he insisted, taking a half-step closer. And when you took a full step back, he frozen, uncertain - unused to the distance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love it when you’re close to me. It’s nice. I’m not - that was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s okay.” You waved him off, a dismissive hand held aloft for a moment before dropping to hold your towel close to your chest, and hoped he believed the crack in your voice was from the yelling you’d done earlier in the day. “It’s true, ’s’what everyone thinks, anyway.”

“What?” He looked confused, frown deepening as he tried again. He took a cautious step to close some of the distance and lifted a hand to reach out for you before thinking better of it. His hand fell to his side and you clutched the material in your arms tight to your chest to keep from reaching out yourself. “No one thinks that.”

“They do,” you confessed, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze as you forced a laugh. “They think it’s weird and sad and annoying that I’m, like, all over you. They think I’m, like, obsessed or something.” The admission was uttered casually, as easily as you could manage when your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest, and Steve took another tentative step forward.

“Who said that?”

Though it was phrased as a question, it came out a demand. His expression shifted, flickered from soft concern to annoyance - not at you, very rarely at you - as he waited.

“I overheard the kids joking about it,” you told him with a sigh. “And back when you were dating Nancy, Tommy and Carol said something. So did Billy. It didn’t bother me then ‘cause Tommy and Carol and Billy were morons, but now, well… Maybe they were right. I - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so… attached.”

Steve stepped closer then, insistent despite your feeble attempt to keep the distance, and reached out for you. One warm, large hand fell to your waist, fingers finding bare skin still warm from the sun while the other cupped your cheek. He was patient, soft, as he encouraged you to meet his eyes once more.

“They were total morons. I’m honestly surprised they paid enough attention to someone else to notice,” he huffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of your former friends. “And the kids, they’re just kids. They don’t - don’t listen to them, alright. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying or sad or anything else. I think you’re my best friend and I like being close to you.”

Though it brought you comfort to hear how adamantly he denied thinking you were clingy - how adamantly he denied finding your constant presence annoying - the reminder that he only saw you as a friend did little to ease the roiling in the pit of your stomach. 

A fresh wave of traitorous tears stung at the backs of your eyes and you did your best to blink them away as you nodded. “Yeah,” you nodded, acknowledging him with a watery half-smile. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he asserted, dipping his head to search your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I want you close to me, like, all the time. Robin laughs at me but I don’t really know what to do when you’re not there. I like it when you hold my hand or sit on my lap. It… it makes me feel like you want me with you as much as I want to be with you.”

Though the lump in your throat persisted, though the tears still threatened to fall, you immediately reassured him. “Of course I want you to be with me. I love spending time with you.” You sighed, allowing yourself to melt into Steve’s touch. “It’s always been us.”

“Always has been, always will be,” he confirmed, smile soft but still a touch concerned. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his words for the first time in a long time, before he settled on asking, “What’s up, babe? Why’d it bother you so much?”

“It’s stupid.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He refused to allow you to wave it off, to dismiss the tease that clearly hurt your feelings, as his thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s not, not if it’s bothering you.”

“I just…” You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you attempted to gather your thoughts. Though Steve’s closeness would’ve brought you comfort under ordinary circumstances, it made it difficult for you to concentrate as your heart began to beat a touch too fast. “Just been thinking,” you finally began, choosing your words carefully. “It was fine when we were kids but, I mean, we’re adults now. What happens when one of your dates pays off and you find someone to fall in love with? Don’t think she’ll be too happy with, you know, this. It’s not like we can cuddle on the couch or have sleepovers for the rest of our lives.”

Steve remained quiet for a long moment - a silence that stretched on forever, thick and suffocating - and you swallowed the emotion clumping in the back of your throat before opening your eyes. You were met with his warm gaze, soft brown eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as he took a half-step closer.

“What if… I mean, we could.” Two words, and you felt frozen in uncertainty. Everything around you, everything outside of Steve, ceased to exist. You could feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to elaborate. “The dates,” he began, now looking as nervous as you felt, “none of them have felt right. They don’t feel like this, like us. They don’t make me feel like you do.”

For months, you’d dreamt that Steve felt the same way. You imagined that somewhere, beneath the fond smiles and teasing jabs lingered the same nerves, the same butterflies, the same all-encompassing love. You imagined that his head was full of the same ‘what-if’s’ as you shared his bed, the same hope that you’d share the same bed for the rest of your life. You dreamt that he would one day confess his love and end your hopeless attempt at getting over him.

But now that it seemed within your grasp, so close you could practically feel his heart beating just as erratically as your own, it felt too good to be true.

“What does that mean?”

The question came as a whisper, afraid that if you spoke too loud you might break whatever spell had been cast over the backyard, but Steve heard it clearly. He met it with a half-smile as the hand on your hip began to trace nonsensical patterns across your skin - a nervous habit that made you feel as if your skin was on fire.

“Means that I want to keep holding your hand and having sleepovers,” he elaborated, voice soft in the still of the night. “Means that I… I don’t want to keep going on dates with anyone but you. Every time I think about the future, it changes - what I’m doing, where I live. But you’re always there and that’s all I want. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m not in love with you but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Steve’s confession rang in your ears, crashed over you like a tidal wave, and left you unable to speak - unable to breathe. He waited, patient, understanding, as your racing thoughts scrambled in search of something coherent. But when you failed to gather anything resembling a complete sentence, you decided to allow your actions to speak for you.

In the way that you’d started to imagine as you drifted off to sleep, you dropped the items in your arms and lifted your hands to tangle in his hair to pull him in close. He smelled of summer - cigarettes, cheap beer, artificial coconut and chlorine - and something so unerringly Steve that you suddenly couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

The hand on your cheek was encouraging, soft and warm as he tipped your chin, and you gave in to the urge you’d been fighting. With one step, you pressed yourself close - your chest meeting his, the warmth of his bare skin setting your nerve endings alight - and pressed your mouth to his.

Despite your expectations, there were no fireworks, no sparks or heavenly choirs, but there was an instant sense of comfort. Kissing Steve felt like coming home, warm and easy, as if you’d done it a thousand times before. 

There was no awkward shuffling, no tentative brushes of uncertain lips. Instead, you moved together seamlessly. His body slotted against yours perfectly, fit exactly as if you belonged there - together, intertwined. His lips were soft, as plush as you’d imagined, and his skin was so warm that you wondered if you would be branded with his touch before the night was over.

Though your fantasies varied - desperate kisses, eager to make up for lost time; filthy ones, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, as you swapped spit and stumbled down a dark hallway toward his bedroom; soft kisses, designed to convey years of unspoken feelings - this kiss destroyed them all.

It was soft, slow and eager as you sought to become acquainted with the taste of one another, and laced with the underlying promise of a beautiful future.

Steve’s touch was eager, unrestrained and achingly familiar, as he held you close and swallowed the soft noises you made. Every breathless gasp and quiet sigh of pleasure, was met with a hum of his own as he slipped the hand on your cheek to the back of your neck.

Neither of you wanted the kiss to end, content to breathe in one another until your lungs collapsed, but the lack of oxygen and the reality of the situation had you feeling dizzy enough to break away. But as close as you’d always been, Steve kept you pressed tight to his body and rested his forehead against yours.

“Taking that to mean you’re in love with me, too,” he teased, breathless as he searched your face for any sign of regret, of hesitance. When he found none, he smiled - bright, happy, easy. “Totally not cool of me to admit, but I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’ve never been cool, Stevie,” you returned, giggling as he pinched your side.

“Was gonna be nice,” he huffed, pretending to be put out though his grin never faltered as he shifted his head, brushed his nose against yours. “Tell you how pretty I think you are, how I want to spend the rest of my life with you; all that mushy stuff. But since you wanna be mean…”

Before you could blink, giggle out a teasing apology for your perceived slight, Steve’s arms fell to your waist. He held you close, lifted easily, and carried you the few steps to the edge of the pool. The moment you realized his intentions, the moment you opened your mouth to squeal out a plea for him to stop, Steve stepped over the edge and plunged you both into the water.

Even as you fell, sinking into the deep end, Steve kept you close. He hauled you both back up above the water, laughing as you huffed - thankfully used to this, almost expecting it as he attempted it every year.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grinned, dark hair dripping into his eyes as he guided you both into a more manageable depth and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “All this could’ve been avoided if you’d just been nice to me,” he reasoned.

“I’m always nice to you, Stevie.” You weren’t - your friendship was an equal mixture of soft encouragement, soft words and even softer touches, and teasing jabs - but Steve hummed, just the same. “But I can be even nicer.”

“Know what would be really nice?” When you hummed, Steve returned a hand to cup your cheek - tipping your head to meet your eyes, only a hint of insecurity swirling amongst the warm, soft brown. “Telling me I’m not getting all this wrong. I… I know I don’t always get it,” he acknowledged, swallowing thickly, “but I… I get this, right?”

“Oh, Steve. The reason I got so freaked out about the clingy thing,” you began, lifting your hands to brush the damp hair from his forehead, “was because I was afraid you’d see it, how in love I am. I… I’ve been in love with you for a while. You’re it for me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, then, relieved - elated, clearly brimming with joy at the revelation - and leaned forward to close the gap. The press of his mouth to yours was eager, firm, and relieved some of the ache in your chest, the fear that this was something you’d dreamt up, too good to be true. He crowded you against the wall, body caging you in as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you sighed as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Though the pool water was cool, the press of Steve’s body against yours had you melting. He always ran warm, left you blistering in the wake of his hands exploring your skin, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest as his fingers mapped the slivers of skin he’d only held through fabric.

“Babe,” he breathed, mouth barely parted from yours as you shifted your hips, “don’t wanna do this in the pool. Not the first time. Let me take you inside.”

The urgency in his tone drew a soft moan from you, eager to feel his touch and touch him in return. “Please. Waited so long, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Desperation, eager and hurried, that had lingered beneath the surface of the entire encounter - a desire to give in, finally, after waiting for so long - showed clearly as you both rushed out of the pool. Steve remained close to you, one hand on your hip even as you both roughly toweled off, and ushered you into the house.

The Harrington house was as familiar to you as your own. It was a space you could navigate with your eyes closed, under the worst circumstances, and you were grateful for the knowledge as you and Steve rushed up the stairs to his bedroom without pause.

As many times as you’d stepped foot in Steve’s room, as many nights as you’d spent wrapped in his sheets, there was an understandable difference in this moment. The tension was palpable and, despite how eager you both were, you both faltered for a moment as the door clicked shut behind you.

“This… we don’t have to do anything,” he began, stepping close, his palm warm against your waist. “We can just shower, maybe watch a movie or something before bed.”

Again, rather than fumbling for a coherent sentence - attempting to make sense of the thoughts that remained scrambled in your brain - you reached out for him. Steve sighed as your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, eyes blazing with a heat that made your head spin, and you almost hated to lose the sight of his parted lips and lust blown eyes as your mouth pressed to his.

Steve’s hands began to wander, fingers mapping your skin in a desperate bid to commit it all to memory, as he walked you backwards. The plush of his bed hit the back of your knees, duvet soft, and he followed you down easily. With a knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, a hand beside your head, Steve hovered above you, mouth never leaving yours.

While his fingers traced the skin of your stomach, your hips, your shoulders, your thighs, you brought your own to his chest. You raked your nails over his exposed skin, committing the warmth of him to memory, as he broke the kiss to lavish your neck with attention.

As he nosed at your jaw, lips pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, his hand fell to your breast, eagerly cupping the soft flesh over the damp material of your swimsuit.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, reverence lacing his tone as his hand flexed. “So warm, so soft. Smell nice.”

“It’s the sunscreen,” you gasped, words pitching higher as his lips latched onto the spot just beneath your ear. “You should try it.”

“Mm. You can put some on me tomorrow,” he offered, tongue darting out to soothe spot he’d nipped.

The promise was laced with an eager desire that had your hands wandering, nails raking over the trail of hair dipping into the band of his trunks, and you could feel the contraction of his stomach as he inhaled sharply. You knew that you tasted of chlorine and chemicals, of summer, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Eagerly, he began to dip lower, his lips exploring your heated skin and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch was electric, sent a shockwave through your system and left your chest aching with a warmth that you hoped would never cool. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, gathering slick between your thighs, as Steve nipped at the skin of your chest.

Skilled hands made quick work of the fabric covering your chest, easily ridding you of the damp suit without lifting his head from your skin, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as Steve began to make his way down. He nipped at the delicate skin of your chest, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way as he shifted to free his hands.

As Steve’s hands shifted, cupped your breasts and hummed, your own hand dipped beneath the band of his trunks. Your fingers brushed the warm skin, reveling in the stuttering breath Steve released, even as his own hands began to trail downward.

“Always pretty,” he complimented, voice rough as he began to follow the path blazed by his hands, pressing kisses down your chest and stomach.  “But this,” he hummed, grinning when you whined as he moved out of reach, “too fuckin’ pretty. Not fair.”

“You’re one to talk.” It was breathless, a gasp that escaped as his lips latched onto a patch of skin near your hip, and Steve grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie. ’S’distracting.”

Steve continued to sink lower, mouth blazing a devastating path across your skin, as his hands fell to the plush of your thighs. He spread them easily, settled between them, and glanced up at you from near the foot of his bed with a devilish smirk that reminded you of the days of King Steve - handsome, flirty, charming.

“How’ve we never done this before?” His hands drifted closer to your aching cunt, so close to where you desperately wanted him yet so far away as his mouth pressed to your inner thigh. “Wanna spend the rest of my life here.”

“Haven’t even got my bathing suit off,” you teased, though it was weak - wrecked, already so entirely destroyed for him. But Steve took it as a challenge.

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands slipped beneath the band of your bottoms and tugged, easily working the damp fabric down your thighs. The moment they were gone, tossed across the room to be found later, he settled back between them and grinned.

Before you could tease, make a joke about him being eager, Steve’s hands shifted exactly where you wanted them. Warm fingers swiped at your slick folds, gathered the evidence of your arousal easily, before they lifted to his waiting mouth. Your lungs constricted and breathing felt impossible as you watched him lap at the slick, an exaggerated moan leaving his lips as he pulled them free with a wink.

“Knew you’d taste amazing,” he complimented, dipping his head to nip at your inner thigh.

Steve nosed at the juncture of your thigh as his fingers returned to your folds and you could feel his triumphant grin when you gasped as his thumb found your clit. But he didn’t allow you time to speak as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along your slit.

Large hands found your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin to keep you spread open as he lapped at you. There was no tentative tasting, no hesitant swipe of his tongue; Steve ate you like a man starved.

Those plush lips wrapped around your clit, eagerly tasting all you had to give, as his fingers returned to your puffy folds. He swiped them through your slick, gathered it on his fingers, before pressing them into you and working to open you up. 

“You’re,” a gasp interrupted you, stole your breathe as Steve glanced up at you from between your thighs - his shoulders keeping you spread open, hair caught between your fingers. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re good at that.”

Steve preened under the praise, lashes fluttering at that and the combination of your fingers yanking at his hair, as his fingers - longer, thicker than yours; easily pressing into the spaces you could never quite reach - sank deeper into you. 

As desperate as you were to feel him, to have him push you over the edge, this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. You wanted to feel him, to feel his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips met yours, and you told him as much as you tugged at his hair.

“Wanna feel you, Stevie, please,” you begged, stomach tight and chest aching as you desperately sought to catch your breath. 

“Fuck.” Steve’s forehead pressed to your thigh, warm breath fanning over your sticky skin. “Wanted to hear you say that forever,” he admitted, eagerly clambering up to shove his trunks down his hips.

As Steve shoved his swim trunks down, you tipped your head - eager to see if the rumors were true. And just as you’d heard, Steve was larger than you ever could’ve imagined. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with, bigger than anything you’d seen, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to touch him.

The tip was an angry red, dripping precum, and Steve swore as your thumb brushed at the pearly bead. “Fuck, you’re so big,” you whined, wondering how he would fit - eagerly anticipating the stretch of him.

“Can’t say shit like that,” he huffed, laughing - pink cheeks blazing, embarrassed and secretly pleased at the attention - as he settled above you. “Ego’s already too big,” he teased.

“Not the only thing,” you returned, grinning when he laughed, fingers dipping between your thighs. “Fuck me, Stevie, please.”

“Anything you want,” he promised, hand wrapping around the base of his cock and guiding it to your puffy folds. He dragged the head through the slick, both of you moaning at the contact, before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed forward.

The stretch of him was delicious, too much and not enough all at once, and you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat as he sank into you. He went slow, careful, eager not to hurt you, but with every inch he sank forward, you were desperate to feel him fully.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was pressed fully into you. It was overwhelming, being so impossibly close to him - completely intertwined, bodies as one - and all you could do was pull him into a searing kiss.

The kiss was a mess, a clash of tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but so satisfying as his hand gripped your hip. You could feel him surrounding you, all-encompassing, and you never wanted the moment to end.

Even as his hips began to snap, his rhythm steady, deep, you struggled to catch your breath - to care about anything other than the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him, the weight of him over you. The only thing you could say was his name, repeated like a prayer as his thumb found your clit and his lips remained just inches from your own.

Steve was all that existed, all that had ever existed, and suddenly the future was bright. There was hope, an eager desire to spend the rest of your life here - in this moment, with Steve pressed close - and you couldn’t help but whimper out a desperate, “I love you,” as you felt yourself barreling toward the edge.

The words were returned in a reverent chant, equally desperate, as you felt his hips begin to stutter. You were both nearly there, just a few presses of his hips - another swipe of his thumb, another press of his mouth to your heated skin - and you were careening over the edge with Steve following shortly after.

Warmth flooded your veins, his spend filling you so completely, and his lips sought yours despite your shared inability to regain your breath. It didn’t matter, not when all that existed was this moment, and you didn’t care that Steve’s weight had fallen to press you deeper into the mattress.

For a few long moments, you both lay there - gasping, fighting to catch your breath and return to the moment at hand - before Steve pulled away just enough to settle at your side. There was no distance left between you, slick skin pressed together, and you would’ve been content to lie there forever.

Steve, it seemed, felt the same as he settled into the pillow and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though the afternoon began with a fear that Steve would see you as clingy, that he would never love you in the way you loved him, you were ending the night in the only place you wanted to be; clinging to your boyfriend, sated and happy and looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time.

______________________________________________________

Author's Note: This was inspired by a sunscreen, believe it or not. Don't know how we got here but it was a fun journey.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington x you #v's fics

[prettygiri222]

Wax

Summary: You tell your boyfriend you got waxed by a man…

Eren x Black Fem Reader SMUT

"Eren!" you called out as you entered his room. he looked up at you with his low red eyes making your heart skip a beat. you were already regretting your decision but you were going to power through. you gave him a little twirl, "notice anything different?"

you saw a trend on TikTok where girls would tell their boyfriends they got a wax done and you wanted to try it. you hesitated knowing Eren he could flip but your friends convinced you to do it.

Eren's eyes trailed over your body stopping at your ass that hung out of your miniskirt. "that ass getting fatter ma? shittt i've been feeding you good." he said as he licked his lips before making eye contact.

you turned around to look at it in the mirror. "i've been hitting the gym with Mikasa and Annie. i ain't even noticed the gains."

"cmere lemme touch it." Eren took a hit off his blunt motioning for you to come sit on his lap. if you didn't actually get a wax today you would've sat on something else. but it was now or never.

you walked over to Eren not missing the way his eyes watched as you purposely swayed your hips. "no, I got waxed." you said placing your foot on his lap.

"you’re so smooth." Eren started rubbing all up on your leg. "everywhere?" he asked as he trailed his hand up higher looking you in the eye.

"baby oil and cocoa butter, love." you said before giving him a nod. a smile graced Eren's lips as he pulled you down so you were straddling him.

"we can't do anything for at least 24 hrs…" you whined out onto his shoulder. "but that's not the point." you said as you shot up. you moved to the bed to create some space between you two, Eren rolled his eyes.

he picked up his phone but signaled to you that he was still listening.

"so I went to get a brazilian today and my regular lady wasn't there so they gave me someone else and honestly, i like them a bit more. they were getting all in there, like really in there and it didn't hurt as much. plus the guy was so ni-" Eren's head shot up.

"hold on ma, did you just say a 'guy?'" he put down his phone and looked into your wide eyes with his red ones. 

"y-yea he did a great job…" the wall behind Eren suddenly became very interesting to look at.

"nah, i don't think i'm hearing you right." Eren sat up in his chair with his jaw clenched. "a man waxed you?”

"yes."

"you let a man touch you down there? see you naked."

"it's his job Eren."

"nah you pissing me off right now ma. you let another man touch your pussy and you telling me you're fine with it?" eren moved so he could look deep into your eyes causing you to flinch. you could see his anger building up and it frightened you. 

he was always so quick to anger, especially around Jean, you can't say how many times they got physical. but he's never yelled at you much less put his hands on you but you didn't know what he would do now. he was unsettlingly quiet. you only nodded afraid you would get on your knees and beg him for forgiveness but a small part of you wanted to push him even further.

Eren surprised you as he started laughing, he rubbed his tattooed hand all over his face looking at you through his fingers. "you expect me to believe you let a man wax when you still get so shy when I say 'pussy'."

you looked away from him, if your skin was any lighter he would've been able to see you blush. "well he said I had the prettiest 'pussy' he ever saw. gave me his number to hit him up if my boyfriend didn't satisfy me enough." you were shy but you weren’t a pushover.

Eren took a big hit off his blunt before blowing the smoke in your face."ass up, face down ma." you quickly regretted your words.

"Eren wait-"

“ass up. face down. now!" Eren's never talked to you like that, he was always so sweet and nice to you. but right now he was so demanding, it was kinda hot. 

you quickly moved to position, making sure your back had a nice arch in it before looking back at Eren with a pout. "Eren we can't…"

"mmhm." he mumbled ignoring your eyes. he pushed up your skirt and delivered a slap to your clothed heat.

"Eren!" you cried out in shock, you shoved your face into the sheets in embarrassment. you've never done this before. you and Eren were vanilla so far because you were a virgin up till a few weeks ago. this was something new and you kinda liked it.

"head up ma, you had a lot to say right? said you'd fuck your waxer cause i wasn't good enough?" he said grabbing your butterfly locs. they were about a week old so they weren't as tight but his grip still hurt. but you were coming to understand that you liked a little bit of pain. "lemme hear it."

eren planted a firm slap against your ass. "ah! It hurts!” Eren gave you another hard slap causing you to jerk forward. you heard him kiss his teeth before you were pulled down to the end of the bed.

“this not gon work.” he said as he maneuvered you so you were bent over his lap. “you keep lying to me, ‘s like you trying to get me mad on purpose ma. you like it when I’m angry?” Eren asked as he delivered another slap to your bare ass. your dark skin was starting to bruise.

how’d he know? you weren’t that bad of a liar. “i was the one who set up and paid for your appointments ma, they would’ve told me if there was a change.” oh, right. you brought your hands to cover your face in embarrassment. 

“m sorry” you whispered.

“if you really got waxed by a man, i can’t tell you what would’ve happened.” Eren let out a bitter laugh looking at his dresser. it brought your attention to the gun Eren kept tucked in his pants when he went out. he always placed it in his top draw when he came home not wanting you to see it but you knew about it. it made you shiver thinking about him using it on someone. “but don’t worry you’ll be sorry. count to 10.”

“10 wha- ow!” Eren raised his hand high and brought it down on your ass making you jump. you reached back to grab his hand but he just slapped it away

“you run, lose count or complain and you start over from one.” he spanked you again watching as your ass rippled. you let out whine, you weren’t used to Eren being so mean to you but you were soaked. each slap sent a new wave of tingles to your core. 

“how many are we at now baby?” Eren asked in that sweet voice he always spoke to you in. 

“9.” you sobbed out. you don’t even know when you started crying and whether it was from the pain or the neglect of your core.

“think you can take one more?” despite being so mad at you it made your heart swell at how nice he was still being. he messaged your ass while waiting for the answer.

“yea…” he delivered one more slap but he directed it toward your clothed heat, fingers coming in contact with your clit, “ohhh fuckkk!” your body started to convulse as you felt pure bliss.

“fuck ma… did you just come from me spanking you?” Eren breathlessly asked as he placed you beside him, you winced at the contact. you nodded as you hid your face in his shoulder. “that’s my good girl.”

#aot x black reader #x black reader #anime smut #aot smut #aot x reader #aot #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren aot #eren smut #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #black y/n #black reader smut

[ellaa-writes]

Gym rat König who fucks you in the locker room shower. (not edited)

He saw you first, walking up to the squat machine. Wearing tight black legging and just a sport bra. It was nearing midnight, König only came to the gym at night. Like a creature out of a horror movie, emerging from his crypt to do some weight lifting.

He couldn't stop staring, you must know he was staring. You probably did it on purpose, with the way your dressed, out late at night. Setting your water bottle down beside the machine you.

Watching you has you worked out, König long forgot what he was even doing to begin with. The heavy weights still in his hands, he let them drop to the floor without a thought. A loud thud rang though the gym, making you flinch and reel your head in his direction.

This was his opportunity, pulling at the bottom of his tank. He lifted it up to wipe off the sweat building on his forehead. Making sure his abs and chest were on full display. Hell he even flexed a little just to make sure you were looking. Hook, line and sinker, you snapped your head away as a blush crept up your chest to your face.

Today wasn't leg day, but for you it sure was. König sauntered over to the leg press machine which so happens to be right beside your machine. Giving it a quick wipe down before he looked in your direction and did his signature goofy smile, gummy and all.

"Haven't seen you here before." he called out to you, his accent thicker than usual. He was really laying it all on you. "I've been a few times but usually to busy." you replied back in between grunts. König watched has you worked up a sweat. Noticing your poor form and using that has an excuse to get closer.

"You're going to hurt yourself that way." he said nonchalantly, pointing to your back. You let the weights gently down as you sat facing him. "Leaning forward to much, watch I'll show you." he rose from his machine. Reaching you in one big step, he was so much bigger closer up. Like a skyscraper kissing the clouds, he had a surgical mask over the lower half of his face. But you still heard him like he was whispering in your ear.

You stepped back has König showed you the proper form. Doing one squat before he ushered you back to the machine. Helping you get the bar on your shoulders. His hand on your lower back, so big and wide and warm as hell. His other hand resting on your lower stomach, telling you to squat and you did. Feeling no pain as you did so, König asked "Better?" hands still on you. You just nodded your head, to dizzy to answer.

He stepped away but not far before you called out "If you don't mind, can you do that again. So I can get a better idea." König's heart started to pound as another sleezy smile spread across his face. He could show you a few more moves if you wanted, he said with a raise of an eyebrow.

Lucky for the both of you the gym was quiet dead that night. You, him and three others. He followed you back to the locker room, and into the showers. You shoved him in first, before following after and closing the curtains tight.

Konig had your leg slinged across his shoulder, your back pressed against the shower tile. The hot steam of the water filling the small enclosure. You other leg wrapped around his waist has he pounded your pussy.

He's whimpering and babbling in German, peppering your neck and chest in small kiss and bites. You nails digging into his back, panting like a bitch in heat. His thick cock hitting all the right spots, the tip bullying against your spongy cervix. His magic fingers working the bud of your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles.

The door to the locker room swung open, both you and König froze. His cock twitching inside your warm wet pussy. Listening to the sound of someone walking around, rummaging in their belongings before the always started up a shower.

Konig began to lazily pump his cock into you, slow thrusts that made your whole body buzz with need. You whined out causing König to cover your mouth with his hand. Leaning into your ear to shush you. And you tried, oh god you tried.

Letting his hand fall back down between your bodies. Working your clit once again and his thrusts became more focused and hard. The sound of the water pelting against the tiles drowning out the lewd noises coming from your stall.

You were so close, he could feel it. He was right their with you, snapping his hips harshly into your own. He was building you up until it all came crashing down. You bit into his shoulder to muffle your moan, your pussy convulsing around his cock. König could help himself, pumping his thick load into you. Grunting out before he bite his own tongue.

After a few silent moments between you to, the shower a few stalls over turned off. The curtain being yanked open and a few minutes later you bother were alone again.

He slowly washed his cum from your cunt, down on his knees. Looking up into your eyes he asked "Wanna go have a bite to eat?"

Thank you all for 600 followers!!

#cod mw2 #könig #konig #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #konig smut #cod konig #cod könig #könig call of duty #könig x you #Cod #Call of duty #konig call of duty

[fawnindawn]

the line between thieves and healers (Luke Castellan x apollo fem! reader)

Summary: Luke Castellan returns from his quest as a ghost of his old self with a bleeding scar to prove it. With his golden boy exterior all but shattered, no one in camp has tried to approach him since his return. This changes when you stumble upon the son of Hermes when he decides to go back to his old roots, stealing from your infirmary at midnight.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

Content: forced proximity, tending to wounds, luke develops a little crush, set after Luke's failed quest in the Garden of Hesperides, mentions of injuries and scars, Luke tries and fails at being mean, hurt-comfort, fluff

masterlist for this series (everything in between) every part in this series can be read as a stand alone!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Come on." One of the campers prodded despite your obvious discomfort. "I'm sure you've squeezed something out of Castellan by now. He's been silent about what happened during his quest for days."

"I told you, I know nothing, and even if I did- patient confidentiality exists." You repeated for the ninth time in a week. Ever since people found out Luke had come personally to you to tend to his wounds, they had lost all decency over the hope of digging for some good gossip. If you were asked one more time, you were sure you would tell them to stick their noses right back up their asses and leave.

Even after his return, Luke Castellan remained a constant in word of mouth around camp over his sudden change in persona. His usual grin and charm was replaced with a dark gloom unfitting for the son of Hermes, who used to light up any room he entered. The scar that permanently rests on his face didn't make it easier for him to avoid watching eyes either. After refusing to play in Capture the Flag for the first time in history, whatever patience the camp was trying to uphold dissipated into chaos.

Sure, you could see why it was a big deal. If you're a person with a sane enough mind (of course, not guaranteed in the premises of Camp Half-Blood), you’d understand why the fellow camp counsellor of the Hermes Cabin was popular. With his constant presence around camp as the cool, attractive camp counsellor helping other campers with that small quirk up his lips, or through word of mouth of how talented and kind he was, it wasn't a huge surprise that he attracted as much attention as he did.

Once the ninth camper in a row finally gave up and left with a huff, your eyes lingered over the bed where you first tended to Luke.

_

It was the dead of night when you were woken by the sound of creaking wooden floorboards and the cold chill of the wind that had snuck into the infirmary. Somehow, you had overslept again on your shift and no one had bothered to wake you up or even check for your missing presence.

Groaning at the awkward shift of your bones from your horrible sleeping posture on the desk, you were halfway through your stretch to crack your stiff neck when you heard the sound of footsteps. Freezing in place, you paused to listen in once more only to heard the soft thud once again. Peering to the left side of the infirmary, your heart stopped.

"Hey, listen." You spoke with that awkward crack in your voice whenever you go too long without speaking, causing the large shadow to flinch, pausing in its pursuit through your medicine cabinet. "I may not seem like it, but I am the best in combat in my cabin so whoever you are, step away from the cabinet and put your hands up."

Gee, that's convincing, you sound like an unnamed extra from the first few minutes of a horror movie before they end up six feet under. Cursing yourself internally, you watched the shadow raise to full height from its bent position. Gulping at the height that seemed to be at least six feet, you wonder if you should have just left this cabinet thief be and go to sleep for the night.

Why would anyone even want to ransack an infirmary at midnight?

You quickly grabbed for your oil lamp situated beside you, still flickering with the smallest of flames and you stood from your chair, causing it to creak back and scratch at the wooden floors as you made your way around the table to approach the thief.

The light was dim, but you spotted the familiar outline of a broad back and curls before he even fully turned.

"Castellan?" You gasped in half-asleep shock, disbelief obvious in your tone as you moved the oil lamp nearer to prove your eyesight wasn't playing tricks on you.

He didn't respond verbally to the call of his name, but when he turned around, his eyes narrowed on you as if you were the intruder. You barely had the chance to form words, questions- before you spotted the dripping crimson liquid near his eye.

"Oh gods." You muttered, grabbing at his arm and tugging him towards the nearest bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's not like you could wrap this up yourself."

With some struggle, he finally gave in, plopping down the edge of the bed and watched you scour through the medicine cabinet for bandages and other supplies, muted and stiff.

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't wake me up. Would you rather bleed to death or get an infection?" You scolded, your inner concern bleeding through your usual sense of politeness for injured visitors.

"Maybe." You thought you heard him mumble, but when you turned to look at him, he was facing the window right beside the bed and staring out into the shadows of the forest, the glow of the moonlight illuminating his features like a haunted painting, blood dripping down his cheekbones like fallen tears. You waited longer for an elaboration but there was none. You assumed you heard wrong, or at least you hoped you did.

You got off your knees, splaying out the supplies on the surface of the bed beside him, and pulled up a stool for you to sit at. He was still facing away from you, and your irritation combined with your lack of sleep made you more reckless than you'd usually be with an injured patient.

You gripped at his chin, forcing him to look at you, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sudden force. He looked more alive when he was caught off guard, his face devoid of the usual disinterest and distance it had ever since he arrived back from his quest.

"How do you expect me to treat you if you keep looking away from me, Castellan?" You challenged, gazing back into his eyes with fire you hoped was fierce enough to break down the coldness in his gaze.

After seconds of nothing but two stubbornheads trying to win a useless battle of eye contact, he sighed. "..Fine."

You were more gentle after that, letting go of his chin and reaching for the cloth. Your hands remained delicate on his skin that seemed to have pulled at the edge of the scar, where it was now bleeding again through its previous stitches. You mumbled a warning before dapping a wet handkerchief on top of the wound to soak in the blood, and he unintentionally grabbed at your thigh as he tried not to hiss out in pain.

You froze at the sudden tight grip, moving the cloth away from his skin and he was quick to retract his hand, positioning it awkwardly on top of the bedsheets instead.

"It's okay if you grab me." You reassured. "It'd be easier for me to gauge if you need me to stop when it gets too painful. You could give me a squeeze if you need a breather?"

You waited, watching his thoughts flicker through his narrowed eyes before slowly, his hand went to rest around your thigh again.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm on your skin, you cleared your throat. "Ready?"

He nodded stiffly, and you went back to work. After the cut had stopped bleeding, you were quick to grab the gauze and bandages. Tenderly, you placed the gauze above his wound, then wrapped the bandages around his face, from the top of his head to below his chin. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and you could feel and hear both his and your breathing in the quiet silence of the infirmary, with no living signs of life aside from the two of you on the infirmary bed and the dim orange hue of the oil lamp.

You could feel his intense gaze on you from his one good eye, while you concentrated on tying a secure knot so it wouldn't fall loose. The moment felt oddly intimate, knowing how sensitive his temper had been ever since he arrived back at camp, scarred in ways not even ambrosia could heal fully.

His hand resting around your thigh felt hot, and you tried to ignore how it your mind subconsciously kept track of every time his thumb would brush over the material of your pants.

"Next time.." You hinted, hopefully not crossing his boundaries. "If this happens again, you come straight here, got it? I don't care if I'm sleeping or attending someone else. You are not allowed to take care of a wound like this yourself, especially since I remember how reckless you can be."

Luke Castellan may be an excellent swordsman, but his cockiness was one weakness that he failed to keep controlled, and on days where it won over, he would always end up at the infirmary with a bashful smile as he tried to explain to you on how he ended up with a dislocated shoulder. That felt like eons ago, when that cheeky smile would always be present on his face, his signature move in getting away with any chaos he caused.

Staring at him now, you caught sight of that smile for such a split second you could've sworn you mistook it.

You couldn't stop the teasing smile that slipped past your stern attitude. "Was that a smile I saw, Castellan?"

He cleared his throat, his face falling back into practiced nonchalance, wearing a frown too forced to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I may be sleep-deprived because a certain someone decided midnight was the best time to ransack an infirmary, but I'm not blind. For making me work overtime, I at least deserve to know what you found so amusing."

He made a face, and you were sure if his face wasn't tightly bandaged, he would roll his eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't amused. Just don't remember you being this.. unhospitable with someone that's injured. And I am not reckless."

You scoffed, causing him to look over at you. "I'd say trying to steal from an infirmary is pretty reckless. I thought Hermes kids were supposed to be good in stealing?"

You realised all too late that you may have touched on a sensitive topic, with the mention of his father, but he didn't seem to notice over the frank insult of being called a bad thief.

"I am excellent in stealing." He bit back so quickly, you choked on a snort. Hermes kids and their egos. "I was just going easy on you because you were knocked out at your desk. Oh, and you snore, you know that?"

"I do not."

"Do too."

"You're a liar and a thief. Don't get why your reputation is as marvelled upon as it is, Castellan. You don't live up to the hype at all."

"Oh, and what about you, Miss Sunshine?" He retorted. "Aren't you suppose to be the famous sweetheart who sings all injuries away with a smile on your face?"

"Don't call me that ever again." You must have looked extremely repulsed because he let out a laugh so genuine, it wiped any disgust off your face at the sound of pure heaven flooding into your ears. God, you forgot he could laugh like that.

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't suit you, does it?" He murmured. "Maybe Apollo kids are only nice when others are around to see it."

"You've only come back meaner, Castellan." You scoffed. "I almost regret helping you. Would much rather see you stumble over trying to deal with this yourself if I knew you'd be so ungrateful."

"Sounds righteous of you." He nodded with a sarcastic hum. "Leaving me to bleed out to death while you watch. I understand why the camp has such high stakes when it comes to survival now. Never knew there was a sadist hiding in you, sunshine."

"I told you not to call me that." You reminded. "And I'm doing the best I can to keep everyone here alive so don't come to my infirmary talking about stakes when I've just saved your ass from blood loss."

Your response triggered something in him and he grew silent, his gaze locked on you as if analyzing you. That was when you're really reminded of how awful you must've looked. With your bed hair, sunken-in dark circles and sunken shoulders from the lack of sleep, you did not exactly feel the most confident. You didn't know what happened to make the casual atmosphere disappear as fast as it did, but you were anxious that somehow, you had shut him up again and you'd never get the chance to see him that way again, with his playful banter and light-heartedness of a teenage boy that he should have.

"You shouldn't have to." He muttered, almost to himself rather than to you. A seriousness unlike the previous few quips he'd thrown at you took ahold of him, and you had a feeling this was a slither of who he had really become through his rapid transformation, hidden under the jokes and sarcasm.

"What?"

"You shouldn't have to." He repeated a little louder, trying to get you to see his point. A point he'd been trying to tell Chiron, his friends even- ever since he came back here, only to be meet with pitying looks like he was a madman who spoke nonsense to try and make sense of his failure. "Lives should not be your responsibility. You're younger than me, and yet, you're dealing with kids that are near death's door every time they make it past that barrier. I barely made it back here. Some don't even.."

Luke tried to breathe, remembering how he got to camp in the first place. The unnecessary sacrifice that had to be made, the tree that now rests at the barrier of camp, the sound of thunder and pouring rain beating at his face.

"Now, I'm stuck with this disgusting scar of my face for the rest of my life, a stupid reminder every single time I look at myself, that I failed my only chance at proving I was something more than just wasted potential. Now I've gone and screwed it up for everyone because I couldn't do some easy quest someone else already accomplished-" He winced suddenly, grabbing onto the bandaged part of his face that seemed to grow more irritated and inflamed as he spoke.

You were quick to reach for his hand, knowing his aggression may harm the wound more. "It is not disgusting." You answered for him, and slowly, your hand rested over his, removing it from his face so he wouldn't accidentally cause the wound to start bleeding again. "You are not a failure, Luke."

"Don't take pity on me by saying words you don't mean." He muttered. "Everyone expected me to succeed, I could feel it in their gaze when they looked at me. I was supposed to be the best, and just because everyone told me that, I believed it. Now, I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone."

He didn't know why he was saying all this to you. Maybe because you were the only person to treat him normally in the past two weeks, to really listen instead of trying to get him to move on, and maybe because his heart felt like it was growing too heavy to carry on his own. The insecurity and vulnerability made him feel sick, and he found himself trying to tear his hands away from you out of the need to run, which only made him feel more disgusted with himself. Like a coward, his mind taunted.

You remained stubborn, holding onto his cold palms because you know he has had no warmth, no real genuine words spoken to him since he returned. No one to see him when it was clear he was suffering, that he needed all the time in the world and more to heal, and that he deserved more than self-loathing and an absent father who sentenced him to this fate.

"I am not pitying you." You insisted, and you leaned closer so he couldn't look away from you. "Your scar does not make you ugly or less valuable to anyone. It is not pity, it is a fact. You are a person who has survived a fate so close to death, and any feat to survive death is strength. You are strong, and you made it back here alive with a scar to prove it. It is not a sign of weakness."

"Anyone who tells you different has no right or say in your situation because they did not go through what you did." You said with a stern voice, your anger not towards him, but for him. "Not your father, not anyone."

Luke finally looked at you, like looked. His eyes were scanning all over your face as if not quite believing you were real, but the fire in your eyes was so magnetic, he couldn't look away. The pinch between your brows, the addictive warmth of your hands in his, and the close distance between the two of you, and yet, it didn't make his skin itch with the need to pull away. To hide in his corner and wallow over the heavy weight of knowing his world had ended in the Garden of the Hesperides. Or had it?

Your eyes looked right through him, and for once, he felt like there was someone there for him.

"I suppose I can see where your reputation comes from now, sunshine." He responded weakly, and his heart gave a thump when you smiled back at him.

"Healing's what I understand best." You shrugged casually, as if you didn't just silence his thoughts for a moment of peace, or that you have somehow dulled the internal blades that bled with self-hatred and world-consuming anger pointed at himself, and at the injustice of the gods who could not give a damn about their children. “If I can help you even a little, why shouldn’t I?”

He could feel time ticking again in the back of his mind, the night slowly passing into a new one, and he thinks as he holds your gaze, that maybe this world wouldn't be so painful to live in if he had someone to look at him the way you did.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal. Or if I'll ever be normal again." He admitted, softer in his voice now that his mind didn't deem you as a threat.

"Normal can be lots of things." You said with a comforting smile. "It's normal to have a breakdown when you've nearly faced death. Multiple even. It's normal to feel fine one moment then not in the next. Healing isn't linear, and when you come to terms that you have a right to feel upset and a right to exist without being held to any expectations of others or what you think others want from you, it'll feel easier to just allow yourself to exist throughout the day. Not the perfect camp counsellor or a hero with no faults. Just as yourself."

He let your words sink in, his thumbs subconsciously rubbing over your knuckles, feeling the healed scars of your own from what he assumed must be from previous combat training. "I'm not that great as myself. You might find me disappointing."

You quirked your lips at that, and shook your head. "I don't believe in that one bit. You're already great just as you are now."

He raised a brow. "Even after trying to steal from your infirmary and having a mental breakdown past curfew?"

"Well, just be glad I was around because I'm much more understanding than Will would be with four hours of sleep."

"I am glad." He insisted. "That it's you."

"I'm glad it was me too." You reassured. "It is midnight though and there's Capture the Flag tomorrow, meaning someone's going to end up whining and moping in here in about eight hours so why don't you let me close shop and come by tomorrow, Castellan?"

"Luke." He corrected, giving you a smile you're sure must be the one the other campers rave about all the time. The charming one that made your heart stutter, even with half his face bandaged and eyebags resting below his caramel eyes.

"Luke." You tested it on your tongue tentatively, and it only seemed to spark an electricity between the two of you that you were sure he must've felt too. In the dark corner of the infirmary, with nothing but crickets and your hushed voice, you spoke again with a heavy heart when you needed to tell him to leave. "I have to close this place up or someone else might try and steal from the medicine cabinet, not that I thought it was possible before but.."

"Fine." He complied, getting off the bed and rising to his full height, towering over you and blocking the moonlight from your view. "I'll wait outside and walk you back to your cabin. It's the least I could do."

You tried not to seem too elated over the idea that you could spend a little more time with Luke, though you're sure your glowing smile must've shown. "Sure you're not just trying to improve your image around me, thief?"

He smirked, following you out to the front door while you wrestled for the keys in your pocket to lock up for the night. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_

"What are you smiling about?"

You looked up from your daze to see Luke leaning over the door frame, watching you with a smirk over his face.

"Can't a girl smile just for the sake of it?" You bit back, cheeks flushing at the idea that he could've possibly seen your focus lingering a little too long on the bed he had sat on. "Why'd you drop out of Capture the Flag? You know your cabin's going to lose their streak to Ares at this point."

"Wanted to see someone." He replied with a shrug, pushing off the door frame to walk towards where you sat, leaning over your desk and watching you compile the latest stock of ambrosia into a box. "Plus, Athena and Hermes are joining for today so Annabeth's got it handled."

He shuffled his fingers along the edge of the table, outlining the curve before clearing his throat. "I heard you covering up for me just now, and I wanted to say thank you."

You looked up at him then, and his eyes seemed to convey that he was thanking you for more than just that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

"Eavesdropping on me now?” You teased. “Careful or you might end up becoming obsessed with a poor, overworked healer."

He scoffed exaggeratedly. "You wish. Just take the thank you. Should've known not to show my gratitude to an Apollo kid."

You stuck your tongue out at him before going on about how mind-blowing it can be that some kids really did not have emotional intelligence when it came to basic decency. Listening to you ramble on as you went on to arrange your first aid kits, Luke realised for all the disappointment he has experienced in his life, maybe there was one good thing his father led him to.

a/n: Couldn't resist writing how this duo met because I live and die for banter. inspired by 'my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me' trope which is what i live and breathe for. His reputation as the perfect golden boy is in shambles, and sunshine couldn't care less.

taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x apollo!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x y/n