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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 4)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

7k words of a fever dream, happy Sunday, sinners ✨💦 I really hope you like it 🥺💖

You were back, unexpectedly but welcomed nonetheless. But now Alastor finds himself in a new kind of hell. There was, unfortunately for him, no killing what he felt when he looked at you.

{Warnings/Promises: Smut, Ace spectrum Alastor x FemReader, Alastor has feelings, creampie is the best nighttime snack, Angel is always the good guy, cervix punishment, mating press, Alastor demon form, Antlers go brrrr, drinking to forget, drowning (in cum)((and emotions)), discussions of murder, Alastor gets horny for discussions of murder, kinda breed kink if you squint, I saw a fan image of a hazbin hotel pool and it’s been stuck in my head for days.}

MINORS DNI (ah! Eh! I — stop. I see you. You know I see you, right? Get outta here! 🚨)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You were quick to stifle your smile, seeing Alastor standing in front of you with his hand outstretched. Why were you smiling? You were dead. Brutally so. And, You were in hell. But the corners of your mouth kept tugging upward at the sight of the stupid fucking deer demon before you. His own wild smile, eyes half lidded as he looked at you like he knew you.

You took his hand, needing the help standing. He fingers slipped from your palm and came to rub the velvet skin of your—- ears? You smacked his hand away, taking a step back.

The look he gave you, confusion? You weren’t sure, his head cocked to the side, hand lingering a beat longer in the air. He took a step toward you and you took one back.

Alastor laughed, “Quite the welcome, dear.”

You narrowed your eyes, did he know? Did he know you dreamt of him so many nights? That you struggled daily to not see his face behind your eyelids, not hear his lilting voice in your ear?

“Long time no see, Alastor.” You didn’t mean to sound quite so bored when you said it, you weren’t really sure at all what was going on in your head. You didn’t expect to see him so soon, literally immediately upon your death. You didn’t have time to recalibrate the mixed up feelings you had created for yourself over this stranger.

You pined for months to see him again, trying so hard to push the memory of him as deep as you could. So deep, in fact, you found yourself tortured at night with fantasies of his company. Even during the day, your life was altered around him. You couldn’t listen to the radio, the odd static and reverb just forcing him back into your consciousness. You took long forest walks, thinking about hunters and deer. You wore that fucking robe for an embarrassingly long time, remembering being in another world entirely.

Alastor’s face fell, throat closing slightly as he thought he realized what was happening. You didn’t remember the time you’d spent with him. He had been enjoying lazy nights in his room and pleasurable times in the woods with a ghost. He took a step closer, maybe if he— maybe your body would remember? If you just smelled his bed, perhaps you’d stop acting so cold. If he could awaken the impressions he was sure he left on your soul, he could pick up where he left off. A comfortable companion. Kind eyes that only saw him. His name, sweet and low tumbling from your lips.

You hit the wall with your back, making distance from him. He hadn’t hurt you, but you couldn’t be sure what would happen now. Fantasies are no indication of a person’s real self. Your dream romps were just that— dreams. Fiction your mind produced to fill the gap in your life he somehow created in your short time together. Imagination fleshing out this unknown demon you couldn’t stop thinking about.

His hand fell. There was a second his smile dropped, brows knitted. It came and it went, “Well! I best go get Charlie. She is the official welcome committee of the Hazbin Hotel, after all. Follow me.” The door swung open, his long arm gesturing.

Charlie pulled you into a hug, bouncing between “Welcome back!” And “I am so, so sorry you died!” She held your hands in hers, “The hotel has gone through a lot since you left! I have so much to show you. While Alastor has your room b…” her voice carried on, but your mind stayed put. She did jazz hands at every sconce and door frame on the way to the lobby.

You had expected it, your death. You figured there was a 50/50 chance you didn’t make it out of that forest. But that didn’t make this moment any less surreal. You looked down at your body, yours but new. Your hands came to your head, fingers climbing up your skull until you found them. Two soft, tulip petal shaped ears. Were you going to be sick? The room began to spin. Charlie’s voice underwater. Was some detective going to knock on your parent’s door? Carrying a folder with your photo and bad news? Your eyes clenched at the image, your heart ballooning in your chest.

“Maybe she needs to take a rest,” his voice cut through the waters of your confusion, a spear straight to your psyche. His hand slipped up your arm, resting on your back. You shook your head, eyes blinking wildly.

“It’s fine. Please, Charlie, continue your tour.” You took an exaggerated step to your left, out from under his touch. You thought you heard him sigh. Why was he being so kind? The last time you spoke you were staring daggers at him while he carried on about doing exactly what he had promised.

Charlie excitedly presented the lobby to you, the bar, the library. Alastor walked a few feet behind you both, quiet, his shadow dancing down the hallway in front of you. It’s mouth flipping from grin to grimace and back as it watched you nod along to every detail Charlie felt you should know.

The newest addition to the hotel since you left, a large indoor pool on the second to top floor. You lingered there, watching the water reflect pink and red light from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pentagram City.

“Almost done! To the left is Dad’s studio. He comes and goes. Ya know, parent stuff.”

You tried to mask your concern for whatever damaged parent-child relationship she was referencing.

“And to the right is Alastor’s radio station.”

You glanced to the demon, standing near the wall, inspecting his nails. “I didn’t know he had a radio station. I just assumed-,” You shrugged, “He just sounded like that.”

Alastor felt his bottom lid of his left eye twitch involuntarily. Why were you speaking like he wasn’t there?

He bit his tongue, literally. He needed time to think, to plan how to handle this situation. Your death was early and therefore unexpected for him, too. Not nearly as surprising, though, as your loss of memory of him.

He knew though, maybe this was for the best. If you were here, if he could see you around the hotel, perhaps that desire to have you near would die down. His shadow shifted behind him before sinking into the floor. Yes, exactly. This was a good thing. His eyes glanced to you, to your little doe features, two ears and a tiny fluff of a tail. His jaw tightened, had you done it on purpose? What did it mean?

”Would you like to see it?” He didn’t recognize his own voice, because he hadn’t realized he was going to say it until it was done.

Yes. “No thank you.” You wanted to run face first into the wall. It felt like your ribs were twisting off your spine. One side lurched up—- touch him. He wants you, he felt so good. Get him alone. The other side pulling down—- fuck him. He owns you, he’s a demon. Stay away from him.

His ears turned back and down, folding into his skull. You tried to keep your face neutral as you stared back at him, breathing teetering on panting. Every time you looked at him you were in danger of spilling your guts.

“Well!” Charlie slid into the tense air between you two, nervous chuckles, “That makes sense! Because Al’s station is super off limits. So. Uhh where was I going with this.” She looked around, “Is the room ready, Al?”

He nodded, leading you both to the elevator and a few floors down.

“This floor is for our more precious residents. Not that every soul isn’t precious! But ya knooow,” she opened your door, “You’ve got Angel, Husk, Niffty, sometimes Cherri Bomb, and Alastor as neighbors!”

Yippee. You get to lie awake knowing the object of your fucked desire is just past an easily smashed wall.

There was a moment where you all three looked at each other. Charlie becoming more and more fidgety as the seconds ticked on.

“Sooo, We should let her rest, like you said, right Alastor?” Charlie began a dramatic walk to the bedroom door, taking big steps with high knees.

You needed to do this and let it be. “Actually, may I have a moment, Alastor?”

Always, Yes. “I suppose I have the time, my dear.” He twirled his microphone stand before settling it behind his back. Charlie wanted to ask you if you were sure, but the tension was rising again. She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed as she went.

Alone. Again. There was a feeling in the air, like you would either fuck or fight. Was it an animal thing? Or was it always there?

“I never got to thank you.”

His stomach turned, he couldn’t bear this again. Please, stop thanking him. Smile straining, struggling to keep it together, he nodded, “Whatever for?”

You had a strange feeling, a familiarity to the conversation. Ah, that was right. Would this end the same way as your dream? With you on your back? “You were — true to your word.” You fiddled with the comforter of the bed, avoiding looking at him. “You were gentle and you got me home safe and sound. I didn’t thank you. I was just so-,”

“Full of misplaced rage?” His head tilted to the left, eyebrows high.

“Just rage, would have been fine. It was an unfair situation that you helped get me out of.”

Alastor watched your face, only sadness to be found. Not a sight he took any pleasure in. “Well you should truly thank Angel Dust. He is the one who brought me to you, desperate to help you. Even offered me his soul! Not that it’s his to give.”

No one had told you. “Oh,” genuine surprise, “Thank you for that. Yeah, I have to thank him. I’d probably still be in Valentino’s—,” the light of the lamp beside the bed flickered, “studio.”

Looking at you, Alastor couldn’t decipher the feeling in his chest. Relief, sure. Shock, yes. But behind that, a strange tugging beneath his sternum. A pain, vague and nebulous floating over his chest. Why did you come back so soon? Why did you die so early? He wanted to ask you so many things, but if you didn’t retain any memory of your time with him, he doubted he would like the answers.

“I’m going to finish my mental breakdown now, thanks for the tour and uh, the information.” Scratching awkwardly at your arm, you went and opened the door. He paused a moment before moving. “I would like to see your radio station, sometime. If you’d want to show me.” He nodded and left. The room felt colder now, deader.

Your night went exactly how you anticipated, lying awake in the plush red blankets of your new home staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you slept, if you’d see him again. Thoughts of the overworld, family, connections. Little fits of rest came but nothing more than 30 minutes here and there.

Alastor paced his room until dawn, an animal in an unlocked cage. When you had appeared, dead and truly in hell, he thought you’d come to see him. He was embarrassed to even think it now, he had believed you wanted to be with him in earnest. As comfortable with his company as he was yours. He cradled his head, again he felt himself succumbing to the enjoyment of others. He had accepted it with you, more so than the rest, and now it was a weapon in your hands. He felt like an idiot. And he hated it. What a fool, to think you’d died to get home to him. A growl rising in his chest. Home. He desperately wanted to see Rosie, to vent the situation and find clarity. But the idea of leaving you alone in the hotel irked him. He couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe you wouldn’t be here when he returned. He could always summon you with your connection to him, but he wanted you to be there, with him, of your own volition or he didn’t want it at all.

If you’d forgotten entirely, he had two courses of action. To start over, or to let it die.

He looked to his bed, remembering you lying there. Sleeping, peaceful, content. Safe. Alastor turned to the wall, knowing you lied just beyond the wallpaper and sheet rock in your own deathbed, alone. The out of place physical need for you was something he struggled with, but whatever feeling this was — far worse. You were his, yet he couldn’t have you. Couldn’t possess you in the ways he’d grown accustomed to the past year. Starting over felt tedious. But this wasn’t a feeling that would die, he knew that. He could feel that by how deep the roots of his despair sunk into his soul when you looked at him like a stranger.

He didn’t rest that night, and neither did you.

Maybe it was the deal, the connection between you and him, but no matter where you were in the hotel you could feel him. A sixth sense, his presence always on your radar. A small part of your brain power was always on him, focused on the idea of Alastor. You wandered the halls until the others woke, feeling that little string between the two of you. Taut, strong.

When you found Angel that first morning back, you took a seat beside him in the lobby.

“Alastor told me you are why I got help. From Valentino.” You tried your best to maintain eye contact, not getting distracted by his arms.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I kinda did it for myself, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep again if I just let it happen. I’m a freak but I ain’t sick in the head like Val.” He locked his phone, turning to you, “So do you always start passin’ out mid-convo or does Charlie’s voice just do something to ya?”

You groaned, “Did she tell you that?”

“Well she panic-sang it, real worried about you. Did you get settled in yesterday?”

“I didn’t sleep, now that you mention it.” Angel laughed, taking you by surprise, “What?”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t. Not with your co-star next door.” He winked, “I’m sure you’re happy to be here in the flesh.”

“Ugh I forgot about that. Did -,”

“Everyone see it? Yeah you’re a minor celebrity.” You took a throw pillow and screamed into it while he spoke, “But hey! At least you don’t gotta worry about crazy fans. Smiles will keep ‘em at bay.”

“Why would he do anything for me?” Pillow still over your face, you groaned, “I’m just a soul on his roster.”

“Ha I don’t think he treats just any soul the way he’s been treatin’ you. I think Husk would tell me.” Angel kicked his feet, “What a mental image! Does he have pubes? I feel like he does but they’re like, sharp? Like hostile somehow?”

Pillow down, “Ew, Angel! Hostile? How the fuck would I know?”

Angel stopped, wide eyed, “Oh is it a secret? Is that part of the deal?” A sinister giggle, “You can tell ole’ Angel Dust. We’re pals, remember? You technically owe me.” His many fingers poked at your sides, goading you.

You scrunched up your nose, swatting at his hands, “Angel, what are you talking about?”

His smile fell, now side eyeing you, he opened his mouth to ask you to stop playing coy when he heard you all those nights in Alastor’s room when Charlie burst into the lobby.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t tell you about the redemption activities!” She tossed papers onto the coffee table, “Alright, plan Stairway to Heaven!”

Angel sat back, bored the juicy gossip had to wait, your attention fully occupied by Charlie’s sketches.

Alastor watched you from the second floor balcony. Over the next few days he would always be watching, either from the shadows or out in the open. Looking at you, that carnal hunger was gone. He felt no overpowering desire to be surrounded by you. But, now and then, you’d make a small noise or sigh and he would feel a little twitch. A muscle memory reaction to you

Where the need to touch you had faded, he instead found an insatiable hunger to be near you. He had thought it would be better, you at the hotel. But it had become worse. The further you were, the more undone he felt. It baffled him. So, he stayed near. You were almost always within earshot or eye sight. If not, he at least knew where you were. He could focus on the hotel and his plans for Charlie only then.

You never looked at him, it was obviously on purpose. Even when he would take a seat beside you or across from you, you’d manage to glance everywhere but directly at Alastor. By the fourth day, he felt like he was going to snap. It was beginning to feel disrespectful.

That fourth night when you again couldn’t sleep, you found yourself at the edge of the pool. Did people in hell swim? You’d been there for nearly two hours and not a single sinner appeared. It was well past midnight, though.

The entire room was tinged pink, shadows a pretty red. The water itself looked like a sea of rose quartz. You didn’t have a bathing suit. You didn’t have anything now that you thought about it. Nevertheless, you slipped into the water and let yourself float from the edge.

What a familiar feeling, floating. The ceiling shimmered with the water’s ever-moving reflection. Mind reeling back to the green glow casting your shadow on the ceiling of Valentino’s studio. You closed your eyes, you were always sinking it seemed. Sinking out of consciousness, into a another dream, out of the woods and into the bedroom of your captivator. The only times you felt weightless— ah, right. Body held up by shadows, cameras rolling. Under him, beneath the stars, sleeping form disconnected from your mind. It was always with him. You wondered for a second if you could sleep like this. What would happen if you drowned. Could you drown?

The carpet soaked with every step you took, your body sopping wet, clothes heavy with pool water. You were dragging your bare feet to the elevator when you saw a light coming from the ajar door to Alastor’s radio studio.

He was looking over papers, monocle resting on his cheek. Alastor turned to you, taking note of your shoes in your hand and wet hair. Your ears were heavy with water, fine fur drooping with the weight. “You look like a drowned rat, my doe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wiped your hair from your face, “I can’t sleep.”

You never struggled to sleep in his bed. “What did you do when you couldn’t sleep on earth?”

Your life already felt far in the rearview, either the effects of sleep exhaustion or your time in the underworld, “I slept… really well. Not a sleepless night I can remember.”

Alastor only hummed a response. Because all of your sleepless nights were here, with him.

“Why are you working?”

“Why are you swimming?”

“I just told you.” Your brows knitted, was this a conversation or a riddle.

Ever present smile beamed back at you, “Well then take a guess!”

You stared at him, sitting at his curved desk with all his switches and buttons. Papers here and there. Just smiling at you. “Cool, thanks for the waste of time.” You turned to leave when you heard a low sound coming from his chest.

“Why do you speak to me like that? Avoid me?” He stood, hair sharp and standing at attention, “What have I done to you to deserve your disgust?”

“Nothing! That’s-,” the problem, “I’m just tired. I don’t feel right, like I misplaced something. There’s a nagging feeling, maybe something I forgot in the overworld.”

Alastor closed the gap between you two, “I can assure you everything you need is here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah. Of course.” Turning to leave, his clawed hand reached for your wrist. Pulling you back, your wet clothes were now soaking into his suit.

His free hand took your chin and made you look up at him. Alastor’s red and pink eyes stared into yours, grin wider than you remembered seeing it before. You fixed your gaze on the desk behind him. “Look at me.” His voice cracked with a static interference. Your eyes finally came to his, your hand now holding his wrist just below your chin. “Don’t you dare look away.” He saw it, a flash of recognition flit across your now wide eyes. There was a pulse of electricity to your core, your body remembering his voice, those words, like an activation phrase. How did he know? Your thighs rubbed together, feet barely touching the ground as he held you close.

When his lips crashed into yours, you melted for a moment. Your body relaxed into him, a small whine slipping from your mouth to his. But then something in you snapped back, remembering he was a stranger holding your leash. You pulled his hand from your face with ease as your feet came back to the ground. Tugging your wrist free, you opened your mouth to yell at him, nothing but heavy breathing came out. Again, he reduced you to speechlessness. You glanced at his face before turning; he looked wounded.

You thought you heard his shoes shuffling along the carpet as you rushed into the elevator. A bang, a thrash, echoing down the elevator shaft as you descended to your floor.

Did he think because you acquiesced to sex before, somewhat under the pressure of a worse fate, he could just kiss you anytime he wanted? Did he see you as a toy?

Maybe being a toy would be nice. Maybe a good fuck would let you finally sleep. He did hit all the right places, those shadowy appendages never letting a single need go ignored…

You slammed your door shut, angrily peeling off your clothes. No, you weren’t a possession. You weren’t an object to be taken off the shelf at his convenience. No matter how much your body ached for his clawed hands and thin waist, you wouldn’t lower yourself to being under him. Not metaphorically, therefore not physically. You curled onto your bed, naked, body humming for him. Sleep came in pieces, fractured moments of rest.

“You look like shit.” Angel greeted you when the sun finally rose and everyone mulled around the hotel. You waited until you were sure the lobby bar wouldn’t be empty, you didn’t want to run into him alone.

“How do you fucking sleep in this place? All night just screams and moans from the city.” You rested your cheek on the bar, “Husk, something with orange juice that’ll make me forget where I am, please.”

“The moans are my favorite. Speaking of moanin’ in the night-,” Angel was cut off.

“Get used to it. You sold your soul to a psychotic dick. Welcome to the club,” Husk’s tone was harsh, tilting into sardonic as he slid your drink to you.

With a huff, you sat up, “Don’t compare us. You sold your soul. I—,” you searched with your hands for the word, “was guilty of having a colossal cunt of an aunt.” A deep sip of your drink, “Fuck, he only got my soul because he made a deal with a different demon for it. Soul traded in like a used car. I’m the Kia Sorento of hell.”

Husk grumbled, “Yeah well, either way. Might as well get comfortable. We’re here for the long haul.”

Angel put a hand out to shut up Husk, scooting his stool closer to you, “So like— did Mister Wrong-Kinda-Horny have you killed?” His eyes went to your ears and back, “Is that why ya came back a little lady deer? Some kinda sex thing?”

You downed your drink and gestured to Husk to refill your glass, speaking to Angel without looking at him, “Why would he do that?

He grabbed your bar stool and swivelled you to face him, leaning in even closer, “Well, ya know…” his eyebrows raised up and down, ready to finally get the dirty details, “because ya-,”

“My little doe, just who I was looking for.” His sudden appearance startled all three of you. He was ready now, to pin down your fate. Were you going to stay at the hotel permanently or not? With his supervision or without?

“Why does everyone keep interruptin’ me?!” Angel slammed his hand on the bar.

On impulse, your own hand formed a first, “Stop calling me that!”

Alastor laughed, unhinged, a finger wiping a tear from his eye. Still, the attitude with which you spoke to him surprised him, “Oh? Why should I? You are a doe,” his microphone gestured to your head, “And your soul belongs to me. If I remember correctly, so does your body.” His eyes darkened, back bent as he came to your eye level, “But I always have video evidence if you’re unsure of the details.”

You lifted your glass and cocked your arm back to throw it but stopped. Alastor was grinning, something in his stare egging you on. He was loving this. Finally you were paying some attention to him. You were looking right at him.

Setting the glass back down, you left your stool and slipped past him, “Lucky for you, radio demon. It’s all you have anymore.” You had decided you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying his name.

Husk sunk beneath the bar, Alastor’s antlers expanding as his eyes became overtaken with black. Angel scrambled over the counter to join the cowering bartender. Alastor whipped around, spine cracking and stretching. You were in the elevator for another quick escape when you turned and saw him gaining on you, his mouth nearly unhinged, teeth sharp and numerous. His body contorted to get his truly demonic face in your eye line, back bending in half to drop his head down, “What did you say?” The air around him seemed to bend and shake, the hiss of a misaligned radio station biting at your skin.

Your finger was shaking as you pressed the ‘close door’ button repeatedly, wetting your lips you found your foothold in anger again, “Fuck you.”

You didn’t recognize the sounds you heard just past the hollow elevator doors. Something between a screech and a wail. Not a sound you’d heard any deer make before.

Shakey knees and legs melting to jelly barely carried you to your room. You collapsed against the door as soon as you entered, locking it. Not that it mattered, you knew that.

A knock shook the wood and made you yelp.

“It’s me!” You recognized Angel’s voice, “Let me in.”

He fell into your room, hair a mess and eyes wide, “I don’t know where he went but he left the hotel. Jesus Christ you have balls of steel.” He fixed his hair, adjusting his chest fluff, “Or are a total idiot.” He saw the tears swelling in your eyes, gears shifting immediately, “Oh shit, sorry. You okay?”

You shook your head no and crumbled to the floor, “I haven’t fucking slept more than three hours a night in like, five fucking days. I’m going crazy.”

“I don’t know why ya’ll are fightin’ but can’t Alastor help you out? Ya’ll are close, maybe a night in his bed will set you straight.”

Your tears streamed down your face, “Angel! What are you talking about?! You keep saying shit like we’re friends. The closest I’ve been to him was in my fucking wet dreams!” You curled into the fetal position on the carpet, exhausted, scared, confused. You’d never seen something as skin-crawling as his full demonic form. But a part of you was mesmerised by the transformation. A sick part of you, you decided.

Angel lied down beside you, facing you, eyes blinking. One of his hands wiped at your tears, “What exactly happened after you went home?”

You sniffled, “I couldn’t get him out of my head. I wore your robe. It smelled like you.”

He laughed, “I wondered where that thing went.”

“I started having these dreams, just—- really fucked dreams of him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, “fucked how?”

Your wanted to hide your face but didn’t have the energy to move your arms, “He fucked me in the woods like his life depended on it. Best sex of my life, in my own imagination. Naturally.”

Angel sat up, he didn’t know what to ask first, “best sex?? Sorry- no. Fuck, uh, you had dreams about fucking the Radio Demon? You two never… met up?”

You rolled onto your back, shaking your head, “If he could have visited me, he never did. Trust me, I looked for any sign.”

“Uh huuuuh.” Angel nodded, “Well. His extra weird attitude makes more sense. He’s been super creepy, always just popping’ outta shadows and shit. More than usual.”

Angel looked over you, crying softly on the floor. He considered telling you, but if Alastor hadn’t he figured it was best he stay out of it. Lest he be the one fleeing into elevators.

“Have ya considered actually fucking him?” Angel couldn’t believe he was recommending anyone fuck Alastor, but it seemed like maybe it’d actually do you good.

“Why would I do that?”

Angel looked annoyed, “Because you wanna fuck him?! Get it out of our system?”

“Yes and I sometimes wonder what it would be like to drive into oncoming traffic. We all have the call of the void. He—,” you thought about the kiss, “I feel like it’d just make it worse. I’d want more.”

Angel showed you his phone, “He’s apparently eating sinners in the doom district, so, it’s your call. But maybe a good bang would get you both to chill out.” He scrolled, “Fucking hell. The best sex, of your life? Have you not had much sex or-?”

You crawled up to your bed and plopped your now heavy body down, “Angel.”

“Do you have some weird kink? Is it just really big?”

“Angel!”

“Does he go full demon and his peni-,”

“ANGEL.”

He spun his head around to look at you, “I wanna respect your boundaries but I will actually die again if you don’t explain this shit to me.”

Settling back, you groaned, “I’ve never felt so needed before. He held onto me like he couldn’t breath unless I was under him. But you see him, you’ve been here. Does that sound like him?”

Angel sat beside you, “Honestly didn’t know he knew what sex was until you came here so” he leaned back, two arms holding him up, “You guys are pretty fucked up.” You nodded. “What did he say, when you told him about the dreams?”

“Didn’t really come up.” You rolled your eyes.

He patted your thigh, “Got it. You’re gonna owe me like, a metric shit ton of drugs.” Angel pushed off the bed, waving as he left, “I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

You sat up, staring curiously at where he had just been. Tomorrow? It was only 9am

Angel spent several hours in the lobby, pretending to read and socialize with residents. He jumped from the chaise lounge as soon as he saw Alastor walking into the hotel, “Hey uh, I know you know I think you’re a freaky fuck, but I wanna just say it sucks real bad and I’m sorry.” Alastor didn’t reply or even stop walking, Angel having to jog to keep pace.

“I mean, if my fuck buddy thought our bumpin’ uglies was all just dreams I’d be super fuckin’ bummed too.” Alastor became so still so quickly that Angel nearly fell over trying to stop his momentum. He waved his hand in front of Alastor’s face to make sure he was still conscious, “uhh anyone home in there?”

Alastor’s eyes flicked to dials, residents looking up warily as the power flickered and the space seemed to distort around them, “Explain, quickly.”

“She told me this mornin’! She thinks all those nights you were bangin’ her brains out — which, from one porn star to another, sounded top notch from my room — we’re just horny dreams. She’s all fucked in the head about it.”

Alastor melted into his shadow and slinked down the hall and up the walls, leaving Angel behind, “You all owe me!”

You heard footsteps suddenly advancing on you down the hall. Spinning around, your nose nearly brushed against his, Alastor’s face already down to your level.

He leaned in to you, his mouth hitting against your cheek, “I need to speak to you in my room, dear.” His voice was clearly not asking you.

Your blood ran cold, goosebumps dancing down your neck and arms. “Why would-,”

“Now.” His arms wrapped around your waist, you pushed him away and turned to walk off but stopped. You weren’t in the hallway anymore. A bedroom. With a haughty laugh you turned to spit venom at him for such a dirty trick.

As if expecting it, he cut you off, “They weren’t dreams, my doe. It was astral projection.” He took you by the shoulders and pointed your entire body at the forest scene melting into his room. Had it always been there? You couldn’t remember seeing it before, when you arrived in hell. Just him and his smile.

You felt the blush rise from your toes to your ear tips. Both hands came to your face, desperate to hide your existence from the situation.

You remembered that grassy clearing, the tree line. Peaking in and up, you saw the starry sky you spent so many nights moaning into.

“Why-,” your hands balled into fists, “didn’t you tell me?!” You turned to him, face red. You wanted to shove him, to hit him, but your mother taught you better than to lay hands on someone first. You finished fights, not started them.

Alastor smiled down at you, like he always did, “I thought you had no memory of our-,”

You cut off him off at the head, “visits.”

He laughed, “spirited visits.” Was that a pun? You groaned.

“I, I thought it was just make believe.” The gentle touches, the sweet names whispered into your skin, the way you could taste him even after you woke. The blush burned your cheeks.

Now that you knew, now that your eyes fell on him once again with recognition, he felt you’d actually answer him, “How did you die?”

The question took you by surprise, You thought it was obvious, “I tried to kill a hunter in the woods. Well, I did kill him. But he killed me, too.”

A genuine grin spread across his lips, a cackle, “You killed a man?!” You shouldn’t have been so proud, but he looked so impressed, “Tell me every detail. Who was he to you?” Alastor’s hands came to your arms. You remembered last night, pulse quickening, and walked to his bed. You took a seat on the end, sinking softly into the plush blankets. Your hand ran over the fabric.

“My employee’s father.” The fabric was soft, the threads tiny and tight.

Alastor took a seat beside you, legs crossed, “Oh? And why him?”

A hum, “He was a bad man.”

His hand picked up yours, bringing it to his mouth. There was that loss of blood to his brain, something you effortlessly did to him. “Who says?” His own heart picking up pace. You killed. Was it egotistical to think you inspired such a thing? Did you kill for him?

You watched your fingers tremble under his lips, “What?”

“Who says he was bad?”

Your eyes searched the room for an answer, “I think anyone would agree with me.”

His smile reached his eyes, “So you decided? He probably thought he was quite alright.” He turned your wrist over, mouth pressing to your pulse point. “Did you plan it?” Your scent was familiar but different now. Skin still just as soft. He felt himself salivate. Your spell just as strong in death.

A gulp, all of those walls you struggled to keep standing turned to dust against his smirk. A stranger, a lover. Effortlessly your body shifted into a new gear under his touch. “Yeah, for a week. I waited until I knew he was going to be there. Walked the paths, bought a knife.”

“A knife,” he practically purred, “A favorite. No gun?” He pulled your arm toward him, bringing your whole body into his.

“I wanted something more… personal.”

Alastor buckled slightly, cock jumping in his lap. “You were made to be my undoing. I am sure of it. A cruel joke from heaven to distract me.” His mouth found your neck next, little nips before he chose a place and latched, sucking a bruise easily seen by others.

“This is a really fucked conversation, Alastor.” Your body softened, a small sigh coming before you could consider being embarrassed.

“For a ‘fucked’ situation, my dear.” His nose traced along your jaw. “But one you’ll find I quite enjoy.” He placed your hand on his lap. Did he see the face you made? The stupid grin? Your hand squeezed lightly on the length you felt tenting his pants, earning a moan into your cheek. Real. He was real. In your hands, now. No dreams or projection. No fantasies. No little pink toy. “Bear with me, just a little more. You’ll find my … proclivity for such topics quite important for these kinds activities.”

“You’re sick.” You turned, nose to nose smiling still.

He hummed, his own smile spreading, “desperately so.” Your hand gently traced the shape of him through his pants, “Why did you kill him? As opposed to all the other bad men?”

A question you didn’t feel you could answer, “This topic is having the opposite effect on me…” you squeezed him again.

“Fair enough,” he pushed you back onto the bed, leg going over your body to straddle you, “Then tell me how you felt? A compromise.”

How did you feel? When you killed him? “I felt strong.” He repositioned himself between your legs, “I wasn’t scared. I knew I’d succeed or-,”

“Or?” His breathing now a barely strained pant. Say it. Say it and he’ll let himself go completely.

You focused on the canopy of his bed, a red wine color much like his own coat. “Or I’d end up here, with you.” His head fell, forehead resting on your stomach. You looked down to see his antlers larger than before, no longer cute little prongs. “Alastor?”

He wasn’t an idiot.

Maybe a little roundabout, but you chose him.

Red dribbled from his chin, mind going foggy as eyes went black. His hands rid you of your clothes with delicate cuts, your body lurched up the bed by wide palms.

You chose to come back.

Your hands came down to undo his pants and belt, seeing he probably couldn’t manage himself. As soon as he was free of his clothes, he was rutting into your thigh. “Alastor”, you took his face in both hands, dials flickers to dilated pupils as you got him to focus on you.

“My little doe.”

You came home.

His head came to rest just above yours, wide and sharp antlers just out of reach. His leaking cock finally found your core, Alastor groaning into the blankets to find you already so wet. Your hands gripped his arms, nails breaking skin in anticipation.

Lined up and impatient, he pushed up into you with unmeasured force. You bit onto the flesh of his shoulder, trying to keep yourself from screaming. In those dreamlike visits, he filled you so perfectly, body molding to him. But now, you were stuffed. With one thrust your cervix was bruised and tender. The tiniest pain bled into the eye-rolling pleasure of having him back in you. With heavy breaths he thrust into you with a need you couldn’t ever remember feeling before. He fucked you like he would die without your moans spilling across his chest.

And it was true, feeling your soft cunt clenching him so tightly was a need more than anything else. A ray of light at the bottom of the Mariana’s trench. Impossible, and undeserved. You were everything he wasn't good enough to have, wasn’t clean enough of conscience to hold. An angel clipping a wing to dip into hell, you killed to sink back into his arms. Even if you didn’t say it, not yet. He could feel it in you. He had left a deeper impression on your soul than perhaps you had his. You weren’t just his by way of a deal, you corrupted yourself to his level.

He looked down at you, your eyes already wet and unfocused, mouth hanging open as every breath turned into rhythmic moans. Your soul a fresh snowfall, your adoration for him a drop of blood. His eyes shut, mind focused on where you and him merged now. Friction pulling him forward to his climax.

Your body was trembling, his lower stomach rubbing against your already swollen clit. That soft button just past your entrance wasn’t just being pressed, it was smashed against your walls with his shaft. His head dragging past it. You wanted to speak, to express how good you felt, but your tongue was frozen in your mouth. Every inhale became a gasp, every exhale was now a moan. You felt his body tighten, thrusts become shallow as his large head refused to stray far from your womb. Silently, your hands tore into his shoulders as you gripped through your orgasm. The muscles in your jaw now locked. Your legs came to wrap around his hips and draw him in, thighs convulsing as his pace didn’t stop for you to recover.

With an unmistakable mating press, his cock buried itself in your pussy. Balls deep suddenly made more sense as a phrase. Your cervix stung as his body forced more room for itself in you. The way your walls spasmed around him felt debauched, your body starved for him. Hungry as he had been. Alastor felt your soft cunt drowning in his seed and he groaned into your hair. Already spilling out, he didn’t even consider unsheathing himself from you.

You struggled to slow your heart rate, vision blocked entirely with his own heaving chest. As he softened in you, so did his form. Body reconfiguring above you, antlers now small and uncharacteristically cute.

With regained red eyes, he looked at your face.

“Are you-,” he sighed, “Asleep.” Not a bad future after all, he mused. Watching you sleep.

He considered wiping you down before placing you beneath his blanket, but it seemed like such a waste. Your head on his pillow, he felt everything in his chest settle. Like a puzzle whose pieces were all right but just not flush, his own damned soul settled flat. Everything snuggly in place.

One of his large palms came to rest on your head, a familiar place for him now, “Sleep well, darling doe. I’ll be here when you wake.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult: @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1

🎞️ TRDFAHS VHS owners: @leathesimp , @alastors-staff, @howabouticallyou , @myrunawaysweets , @karmakillz , @serendipitous-fernweh , @universal-s1ut , @anuttellaa , @sillyb0nez , @nonamevenus , @fairyv-ice , @nitnat6245 , @alicehasdrowned , @alicebaskervilleposts , @jyoongim , @lunaramune , @christinebloodwrittings , @itszzmoon , @thekanrojimitsuri2 ,

@luna-usagi-chan

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 month

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 27] || [Chapter 29]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff, love confessions! Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Just a cute little moment

Chapter 28: How in the-

The trip with John was short but sweet. A full weekend together, away from everything…

Followed by 4 whole weeks alone. Not that you minded the extra piece and quiet.

You were normally kept at a distance from the boys and their line of work. Arms length, not because they don’t trust you, but because just like Simon learned to drop Ghost at the door, the rest drop work at the door too.

The closest thing you get to ‘work’ is funny anecdotes that can even make you laugh, OR soft, whispered, retelling of memories as your hands snake over their rough skins, fingers grazing the scars that those memories left behind.

Today was a first. In a lot of ways.

The boys showed up at your flat at 3 A.M. after spending a whole month out of Hereford and in God knows where.

You had opened the door very wearily to the sight of the four of them, not even having changed out of their tactical gear, looking like they had been through hell.

Kyle was walking with a limp and a groan, his back stiff and an inability to properly swivel side to side at the hips.

Johnny had gotten his shoulder shot?? Plus his knee was acting up so he was also limping.

John was, also, limping. His back was also stiff and he murmured something about having pulled a muscle.

And Simon? The man’s eyes were surrounded by circles darker than you’d ever seen them, his shoulders slumped. He moved normally, unlike the others. And that concerned you more than anything.

“Jesus, what happened?”

“Mission mishaps. They happen sometimes, da’lin’.” John told you soothingly as he attempted to press a kiss to the crown of your head, but wincing when he felt the pain shoot up his spine.

“Sounds to me like more than mishaps. There’s no way all four of you are injured and it was just a ‘mishap’.” You scolded them as you carefully helped them off their gear, multiple men groaning and grunting in pain as the heavy weights were shed from their torsos.

“Have you been checked?”

“Yes, we went to medic before coming over-” Kyle told you.

“And they let you leave on foot? You look like you all should be on bed rest!” You scolded them.

“And that’s why we’re here.” Johnny added before letting out a groan when you moved his arm, sending pain barreling down his arm.

“How in the-” You murmured as you noted the patched up bullet wound.

“Don’t ask…” Kyle muttered under his breath, a whimper of a sound that you had never quite heard from him.

They were like lost puppies… Needy for being lulled to sleep by a soft hand caressing them behind the ears after some nasty man kicked them on the street.

So that’s how you ended up with four injured soldiers in your house. Ghost took the living room couch, leaving the bed for John and Kyle and Johnny.

“Don’t get any blood on my bed, Johnny!” You warned him. “If something happens, you call me.” You had added as you made sure they were as comfortable as can be before you slipped out of the room.

Reaching the living room, it was now well past 4 A.M. Simon was lying there, one leg swung over the back of your couch, and eyes locked on the shower. “You okay, Simon?” You checked softly.

“Fine, sweetheart.”

“Don’t look fine to me.” You retorted and sat on the armchair by his head, looking down at him, your hand finding his and caressing it.

He twitched a bit against the pillows, brown eyes fluttering for a moment as he took a deep breath. “Mission went tits up. Strained ourselves trying to finish.”

“You too, then?” You asked him and he nodded. “Where?”

“Everywhere. I’m sore all over… And I think I have a fever.” He admitted.

“Do you wanna try a shower?” You suggested and he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna stand up for that long… I get dizzy.”

“And a bath?” You added.

“…” Simon didn’t answer but he groaned and forced himself to stand up. You helped guide him to the bathroom.

After lowering the stopper and allowing the water to flow into the tub, you looked at Simon. “I’ll be outside, okay? I’ll give you privacy.” You told him softly.

Leaning up, you kissed his pale cheek, and turned away…

Only for him to catch you by the wrist. “Stay.”

“What?” You asked him, unsure you heard him right.

“Stay. Please.” He requested.

“But… you said you didn’t-” You trailed off, the memory of his fear of exposing his body to you (or anyone) clear in your mind.

“I know what I said. Just… Please.” He insisted.

“Okay.” You replied and nodded, stepping forward again. He reached his arms up, painfully slowly, the same way John and Kyle and Johnny had.

You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly rolled it up, your eyes finding his scar-riddled torso for the first time. Blotchy skin due to chemical burns here and there, big gashes and smaller cuts spread throughout.

Simon was looking away the whole time as you helped him off his cargos and underwear. The injuries continued down his legs, every inch of him nasty and ugly, only due to how brutal his scars were. In reality, it all made no difference to you.

“You okay?” You checked on him. He nodded slowly, his eyes screwed shut.

“Let’s get you into the water, okay? It’ll do you good.” You said as you grabbed him by the bicep and helped get him into a seated position inside the tub.

Then, you knelt by his side just as he was grunting in relief, his muscles relaxing in the water.

The bathtub that had felt tight with you and Johnny in it months ago, now felt even smaller with Simon Riley in it.

Grabbing the sponge, you carefully ran it over his torso and shoulders, wetting the part of him that didn’t fit in the bath.

The blond leaned his head back on the wall and opened his eyes, finding you looking at him.

“Thank you.” Simon told you in a whisper.

“For bathing you?”

“For dating me.” He replied, causing you to smile.

“My, Simon, you might be sicker than I expected. Where’s the confidence?” You teased him good-naturely, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Was never here. Just faking it until I made it…” He admitted and shook his head, letting it lull against the tiles.

“I see, well… It worked.” You joked as you kept wetting his body carefully.

“We’re lucky to have you.” He murmured. “You didn’t have to do this. To put up with us.”

“It’s not putting up if I like you.” You told him. “Besides… you take care of me. I take care of you. Mutually beneficial, that’s what a relationship should be.”

“I don’t take care of you because I like you.” Simon whispered, a drowsy look in his tired eyes.

“Then what for?” You asked him. “Because you want to shag me that bad?” You joked again and winked.

“No… because I love you.” Simon muttered, his lips a bit lazy in the way he said it, clearly too relaxed and tired and groggy to really think straight.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped open, your hands going limp and dropping the sponge. “Simon…”

“You don’t have to say it back.” He said as he rolled his head against the tile wall, side to side. “Just wanted you to know.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #simon ghost riley deserves good things #simon ghost riley has a lot of love to give #love confessions

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steddiealltheway · 3 months

Text

Eddie’s having a strange day.

For once in his life, he’s not being treated like absolute shit by all the dumbass jocks of Hawkins High School.

In fact, they’re not even engaging with him at all. They’re looking at him, but they’re just not saying anything. Even when Eddie pretends to drop his stuff in front of Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t even laugh at him.

And while this should feel like the best day of Eddie’s life, he has an underlying feeling that this is all very very wrong.

Then, he knows the universe has decided to fuck with him or something when Tommy Hagan meets him at his “business transaction” table and instead of buying anything, he leans in and whispers, “Meet me at skull rock after school today.” And fucking plants a quick kiss to his cheek.

And hey. What the hell was that?

Yes, he’s seen the way Tommy looks at Steve Harrington to know there’s no way that there’s not a part of him that wants him in a way that is definitely not platonic.

But Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington (who makes every guy feel a little bit gay) he’s Eddie Munson. And this does not happen to him.

But, he reasons with himself that, hey, maybe he’s in a coma or something and this is his only chance to see what life would be like if he was… liked? That doesn’t seem to be the right word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.

Or maybe the universe decided he needs a break from his horrible second senior year.

Doubtful.

Nonetheless, he decides what the hell, why not go to skull rock and see what Tommy Hagan wants, despite everything in his being screaming THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!

And a few feet into the forest, he hears the quick crunching of leaves and sticks as something approaches him and is nearly startled out of his skin by Steve Harrington of all people.

“You need to leave,” Steve pants out.

Eddie glances around and wonders if this is real.

“Eddie, I’m serious. You need to leave. Right now.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Why?”

Steve sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Oh my god you remind me of Henderson. Okay. The basketball team is planning to ambush you because Billy thought it was a good idea or something. I don’t know. I overheard it in the locker room. And you have to leave.”

Eddie takes a moment to let it all sink in. And yeah, it adds up with the rest of the day, but also… “Why should I trust you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re Steve Harrington. You’re on the basketball team. What if you’re part of the trap?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not really friends with any of them.” His head whips around when a cracking noise sounds out a good distance away. “Let’s go,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and tugging him away.

Eddie plants his feet and stays in place. “You’re going to have to prove to me in some way that you’re not in on this.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and pinches his lips together. “I don’t know how!”

“Then tell me why you’re going against all of them to help me.”

Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he puts his hands on his hip. “Because I’ve been on the receiving end of a Billy attack and that was before he lost the little control he had over his sort of sister that like kept him weirdly grounded or something. But ever since, he’s been itching for a fight, okay? And he doesn’t hold back. He could kill you.”

Half of it doesn’t make sense to Eddie, but something about Steve’s tone makes him believe that he’s telling the truth. But there’s still a small part of him that wants to doubt him.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Steve asks, exasperated.

“If you’re in on it, you won’t be able to. Tommy barely even got my cheek-”

“He did what?”

“And,” Eddie continues, ignoring Steve, “if you’re not in on it, you’ll know that this means literally nothing to the both of us, and I’ll run back to my van immediately.”

Steve stares at him for a second as if he’s out of his mind - which he is, really - before stepping closer and asking, “You’ll really leave? Straight away? No poking around the woods because you’re curious?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. He smiles at Steve’s hesitation and says, “So, you are in on i-”

Only for Steve to quickly close the distance between them, weaving his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him close as he kisses him deeply, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, breath coming out heavier than before.

They both stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word until another crunching sound appears closer than before and a voice calls out, “Eddie?”

Steve takes Eddie hand and runs, only for Eddie to pull him the other way toward his van, still slightly not trusting him although he’s pretty sure Steve’s tongue may have grazed the inside of his mouth. But that’s a thought for a later day.

As soon as the van is in sight, Eddie lets out a deep breath, happy to see it’s untouched before he runs and unlocks it, yelling for Steve to get in before starting it and taking off.

Once he’s on the road, he turns to Steve and asks, “You think we lost them?”

Steve nods and sighs, “I hope they don’t find my car though.”

“Where is it?” Eddie asks, quick to turn around when Steve directs him.

He’s not far from where Eddie was parked before, but with the risk of being discovered, Eddie is quick to stop his car and tell Steve, “Go!”

But Steve takes a moment and looks back at him, and Eddie’s suddenly scared that maybe he read this all wrong and Steve really is in on the trap. But then Steve asks, “And what if I asked you to convince me to go?”

It takes Eddie a second to register what the hell he’s talking about before he’s glancing back at the trees, searching for any movement before leaning over and breathing out, “I have got to be in a coma or something.”

There’s a brief sharp pain in his arm that has him yelping before he registers that Steve pinched him. “Maybe not,” Steve says, leaning closer to close the distance between them again, deepening the kiss in the short amount of time they have and quickly pulling away, leaving Eddie desperate for more.

“I’ll see you around. Thanks for listen to me,” Steve says before hopping out of the van and running to his car.

Eddie takes a moment to breathe before realizing he needs to get the hell out of there, and he quickly speeds off wondering if this is real life.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day, things go back to the way they used to be, but any time Tommy sees him, he turns an ugly shade of red which is accompanied by laughs of, “Eddie Munson stood you up.”

It’s nice at first, but two periods in, he’s already had enough of the dumb jabs people take at him until someone knocks a notebook out of his hands and it goes flying toward a nice blue pair of Adidas.

Eddie bends down at the same time as the other person does, and they both grab the book. When Eddie glances up, he makes eye contact with none other than Steve who gives him a small, private smile.

“Harrington,” Tommy says in an accusatory tone that has Steve frowning before standing back up, leaving the notebook in Eddie’s hand.

As he walks away, he turns back and gives him an apologetic smile that makes Eddie wonder if this is what Romeo and Juliet felt like.

The thought makes his nose wrinkle up before he stands up and goes about his day as if he doesn’t know what it’s like to be kissed by Steve Harrington. And a big part of him hopes that maybe he’ll get another weird day where Steve Harrington plays hero for him. And another part of him hopes that if he really is in a coma, he’ll wake up with Steve waiting for him on the other side.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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temis-de-leon · 2 months

Text

Pick me girls and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Part 1 - Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Part 2 - Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

CW: pick me girl behavior, suggestive, mentions of sex, mentions of violence and threats, mentions of concubines (no concubines, tho), implied marriage (??), jealous mc, some fluff, some hurt, some comfort, the most ooc out of every part of the series, Barbatos's part is based on one of his chats (A patissier's suffering?)

A/N at the end.

Diavolo

So the Devildom had concubines, what about it? It's not like Diavolo had any concubines. You were his only partner and, apparently, the first one in a long while. You had nothing to worry about.

Still, it was impossible not to feel so dejected when every single one of the demons in his court buttered him up so blatantly, not caring that you were next to him, arms linked and fingers intertwined.

And he smiled. Of course, what else could he do but smile? He had a duty to fulfill and that probably meant keeping certain people happy, right?

At least, that was the mantra in your head. Your heart kept hurting itself, but having a reason made it manageable.

"Well? Have you thought about it?"

You turned to your side and stared at the demoness beside you. She was mesmerizing and looking at her directly made you lose focus.

Have I thought about it? I haven't stop thinking about it.

"Remember that I'm acting on behalf of his wellbeing" she said sweetly, caressing your wrist like she wanted to flirt with you "And I guess I could make you happy too"

That made you laugh without an ounce of humor. Both of you knew she wasn't being serious about that one and you wondered why she said it in the first place. Making her Diavolo's concubine would make her his wife in everything but paper. Did she expect giving you orgasms would make you happier about it?

"Leave me alone" you whispered against your drink, not trusting your voice to act decently.

"How can you be so selfish?" she spat, leaving you speechless "This is for his own good. How long will you live, human? Do you expect him to be alone after your death? My only wish is to keep him company once you're gone and starting now would make the transition easier. He'll still love you, sure, but this way he could be happier. How can you not understand something so simple?"

A demon she was, you remembered. Had you been a regular human, you would've believed her concerned face, but to you it was obvious how impatient she was and how much she wanted to leave you there, alone and breaking, so she could finally speak to Diavolo.

"MC"

Both of you jumped, turning around just to see Barbatos's unfazed smile.

"Lord Diavolo asks for you" he informed when you didn't answer, too surprised to react. "Follow me if you please"

"If I may" intervened your companion, close to giving you a heart attack "I must speak to Prince Diavolo. It's an urgent matter"

The butler looked at you, asking for your permission, but you didn't know how to react. It seemed your throat decided to stop working at that exact moment.

"Very well, then"

The demoness eagerly jumped at his words, not wasting a second in leaving the corner you were occupying to look for the prince, who had finally stopped talking to his subjects and was sitting alone in his throne.

Barbatos stared at her before offering you his arm.

"You have nothing to worry about"

He seemed confident, so you believed him. However, the distance you walked towards the throne felt longer than ever.

Your boyfriend looked unnaturally serious at your arrival, an expression his face was not made for. It softened when he saw you, but, still, he didn't fully smile.

"My love, come here" he palmed his thigh and not in a million years would you reject that offer.

Diavolo smiled at the speed you moved, barely restraining himself from kissing you. Instead, he turned to the demoness and presented her to you.

"I believe you've met her already, MC. Did you know about her offer? Did you know she wishes to serve me?"

He patiently waited for your answer, holding you against his chest and caressing your hip bones with the pad of his fingers and the tip of his nails, making you shiver.

Serve? That's the word she decided to use? She wasn't lying, sure, but it was far from the intention she actually had.

"We talked about it" you said in the end.

There was silence for a few seconds, broken only by the sounds of people still drinking and dancing. Diavolo and Barbatos looked at each other, having a conversation no one else could hear.

"I take it you rejected her proposition?"

Obviously.

You nodded and he cupped your face with a sad frown. Your heart skipped a beat.

"That's a pity, my love"

For a moment you moved away from him, too lost in your incredulity to answer or even acknowledge the crazy smile on the demoness's face, but, not even a second later, Diavolo brought you back to him and continued.

"She would've make a wonderful lady in waiting"

Huh?

"Wait, what?"

Both of you ignored the woman, who looked like she'd been slapped in the face with something rotten, which, in her mind, was probably accurate.

"I asked to serve you, my Lord, not the human..."

"Beware your words" interrupted Barbatos, his tail swishing behind him like a whip.

She stopped talking then, very obviously swallowing her opinions. Diavolo speaked again.

"By serving you, she'll serve me. Give her an opportunity to make you happy and, if she fails, we'll get rid of her"

What did he mean, get rid of her? You opened your mouth to ask, but he jerked his leg, making you jump. His smile was wide, but his eyes held a warning.

You decided to let it go.

"Okay"

Diavolo laughed as loud as he usually did, finally hugging you and ignoring both Barbatos's reprimanding glance and the demoness's sour expression.

But wait.

Wait.

He said 'lady in waiting'. Like... Uh...

Were you getting married?

Barbatos

'I'll be waiting in the classroom'

That's what his last message said.

And you'd never be dumb enough to reject that invitation. ¿Spending time with your boyfriend and eating his homemade cookies? Hell yeah!

You just had to be careful not to catch Beel's attention, avoiding the main hallways and hiding between the taller students, which were almost everyone.

By the time you finally arrived to the classroom (you got lost, but you'd never admit that to anyone), you were fairly sure all of your classmates had already gone home.

Alas, you were wrong.

Barbatos's figure was as composed as ever, but you knew him just enough to know how irritated he actually was. Were you this late? It was never your intention!

But no, no, that wasn't the root of the problem.

You knew her, kinda. Not personally, but you'd seen her a lot of times in the castle, cleaning plates in the kitchen or clearing up the table after one of Diavolo's dinner parties. She looked weird in the school's uniform instead of the one the maids used, but you guessed they too had to go to RAD, just like the brothers did.

So why did Barbatos look so uncomfortable?

Both of them stared at you when you entered, walking towards him while staring at her in search of an explanation.

"MC! You're finally here"

He smiled at you with candid eyes, discreetly holding your hand and restraining himself from kissing you in front of the girl, who cleared her throat to break the moment and grinned at Barbatos like you weren't there at all.

Foolish mistake if you'd ever seen one.

Your boyfriend frowned before turning in her direction, clearly giving her one last oportunity before kicking her out of there and reclaiming his alone time with you.

The girl purposely made herself meek, lowering her gaze as if making visual contact with him was too much, something you could totally understand.

"Master Barbatos, please, I'm begging you. I just wish to learn"

You raised your eyebrows and waited for his answer. Instead, she kept talking.

"I'll follow every one of your orders, sir, I promise" arms behind her back and body slightly swaying, you now understood why he was in the edge of snapping "The others don't appreciate you as much as I do. I'll be your best student"

He stared at her, you stared at her, she stared at him, batting her lashes with a weirdly fake innocent smile.

Her demeanor vanished when the Royal Butler spoke.

"I recomend you stop this nonsense at once" he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence "You're embarrassing yourself and Lord Diavolo's service's good reputation"

The poor maid gaped like a fish, although you weren't feeling bad for her.

You stayed behind him, closing the distance as much as possible while staring at her over his shoulder. If you ate a cookie now, would it be too much? He'd probably forgive you, but you'd rather not risk your chances.

"You will stay on cleaning duty as long as I say and you will stop the rumors that I know have been traveling all around the castle"

She lowered her gaze again, this time in submission and humiliation. His voice sounded venomous and you could swear the room's temperature dropped a few degrees. The air was still and smelled damped and rottening.

"If the gossip hasn't disappear by midnight, rest assured, I will make sure you keep your mouth fully shut"

The threat was clear in his words, something that shouldn't, but still surprised you. The maid trembled in response before bowing and running out the classroom.

You stared at the door in surprise, not turning around until he talked again.

"Do forgive me, my dear, but you know how much I dispise rats"

He sounded scarier than ever, letting his forked tongue slip between his teeth before he searched around the room, like he was trying to find more pests.

Then, he turned to you and smiled like nothing happened, holding a cookie to your mouth as the tips of his gloved fingers caressed your jaw.

"Let's forget about this ordeal, MC. After all, I saved these just for you"

Solomon

If there was something worse than feeling jealous, it was Solomon knowing you were jealous.

You thought you could catch a break, uh? Well, you couldn't be more wrong: your boyfriend knew the moment he saw you staring at that witch.

She was cute, you guessed? Nothing exceptional, but not hideous either. You wouldn't mind at all if not for the fact that she used her appearance like a nuclear weapon.

"Oh, you're so cute!" she'd told you once "I wish I was as cute as you!"

And at first you thought nothing of it. She was just being nice! A little weird about it, sure, but who wasn't weird in RAD?

Except, she wasn't looking at you when she said that, but, instead, at your boyfriend.

Of course, Solomon, unbothered as ever, was too engrossed in the cooking book he'd borrowed from the library to pay attention.

(Later that night you had to order takeout, but you were already counting on that).

The point was: she was trying too hard. You couldn't blame her, really, you dated Solomon for a reason; but still. She was getting on your nerves.

"I'm so dumb... I'll never get it! Solomon, can you help me with this?"

Opening a door with magic? Difficult? Yeah, right.

"I've never dated a human before... How is it, MC? I bet Solomon is a great boyfriend"

He has his moments.

"Solomon! Sit with me, I saved you a seat! Why? Oh, I concentrate better when you're here!"

Shit, could she concentrate at all?

"You're so powerful! You'll have to let me have him for a night, MC! He could teach me a couple of things..."

You closed your fist, staring at her with a frown while talking yourself out of mauling her across the table. You didn't need Lucifer's rants about impropriety and self restraint on top of all of this.

"MC and I have a lesson tonight" the sorcerer said with a polite smile, unusually kind eyes and an unreadable expression "Would you like to tag along?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, lowering her gaze in embarrassment, although you weren't sure if she was really embarrassed.

"Could we hang out alone, tho? I don't want MC to see how dumb I am. They're so much better than me! I bet I need you more than they do!"

Well, you didn't need to study with her to know she was dumb as bricks.

You looked at Solomon, opening your eyes so much in bewilderment that even the insides of your cornea were getting dry. Not a second later he turned to you, smiling with mischief, and then you remembered who were you actually dating.

"It's either this or nothing. Be in Purgatory Hall at 6, we won't be waiting for you"

The witch quickly looked at you, frustrated at his words. It wasn't ideal, you knew, thirdwheeling your crush and his partner in a study date, but what else did she expect? Every other option was plain stupid.

"Okay"

She snorted, trying to hide the disgust and disappoinment without much success. Once she left you alone, swaying her hips and her ponytail, you punched Solomon in the arm and reveled in his pain.

"MC!! Relax!"

"Don't tell me to relax!"

You tried to choke him, but he hid his neck under his shoulders before you could lift yourself to reach him better. He knew you too well.

"MC, I have an idea! You'll like it, believe me!"

"Oh, really?"

"I swear!"

Once free from your attacks, Solomon avoided your eyes and stared at his hands. It took him a couple of seconds before he could look at you again, cheeks red, while he spoke from his heart.

"I couldn't care less about her attempts, MC, but she's obviously making you uncomfortable. I won't let this keep going if I can do something about it"

"But why did you invite her to our lesson, then?"

He laughed in a carefree manner, still blushing while he took your hands in his, looking at you like he was about to uncover a precious secret.

"As your teacher, I want you to explore your potential to the maximum"

His voice lowered to a whisper and you got closer to him, letting your body shiver when his breath caressed the skin of your neck.

"Say, MC, wouldn't you like to have your very own training dummy?"

Simeon

Oh, the privileges of being friends with the most powerful demons in the Devildom.

All you had to do was pout a little and act like you were miserable, missing the warmth of the sun and the familiar scenery of the human world. Of course, all of them knew you were exaggerating, but none would take the risk of actually making you sad.

So there you were, waiting for your drinks while Simeon sunbathed outside, sitting in one of those ornate metal chairs and writing some loose ideas for his next book in a napkin. After all, you'd be crazy if you ever went to the human realm without using the opportunity to have a date with your sweetheart of a boyfriend.

If not for the brightness of his suit, he would look like a college student from an old movie, all dreamy and focused in his own world.

And, apparently, you weren't the only one thinking that.

There were a group of girls outside the cafe, all of them young, maybe even fresh out of high school, staring at Simeon like he was some kind of celebrity. Maybe it was his angelic charisma? Maybe it was just his good looks? Whatever the reason, the girls seemed ready enough to conquer the world and they wanted to start with your boyfriend.

You studied your surroundings, realizing with an uncomfortable weigh in your chest just how busy the place was. There was no way you were getting your order in less than five minutes, even being the first in line, so the only thing you could do was wait and hope the girls wouldn't bother Simeon too much.

They stayed in a closed circle for a few moments until one of them finally dared to go and talk to him. She tried to sit in the second chair, but Simeon stopped her with a quick movement of his hand, probably saying he was saving it for you.

That made you laugh, but you were starting to get second hand embarrassment. You could tell she was trying hard to catch his attention, twirling her hair around her finger and hugging her waist to make her breasts look bigger.

You couldn't see Simeon's face, but, by the way he was scratching the paper, it was obvious he was losing focus on whatever he was previously writing, which would only make him irritated.

Fortunately, and rather rudely, the waitress finally gave you the styrofoam cups and immediately ignored you again, but you couldn't care less. The girl returned to her friends just as you stepped out of the cafe, letting you know part of what happened.

"He said he didn't know what part of him made him look interested in me" she snarled with a hint of hurt in her voice, trying to hide it with offense "That I should find someone that actually finds me entertaining"

Her friends gasped and you had to stop yourself from laughing. He wasn't usually that snappy, but she did interrupt his daydreaming.

"I don't even care what he thinks, he's just some dude! I can catch anyone I want, you know?"

Anyone but him, apparently, but the only thing her friends could do was agree.

Shaking your head and holding one drink in each hand, you stopped the eavesdropping and hurried towards him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek and smiling softly when he raised his hands to stroke your hair. He was warm from the sun, but he still curled close to you even after letting you sit next to him.

The girls audibly gasped at your actions, clearly offended by your presence as if Simeon would change his mind if they waited enough.

You couldn't bring yourself to pay them attention. Not when he was caressing your knuckles with such love in his touch and a feeling so deep in his eyes that it made your heart violently stop.

"So what were you writing?"

He smiled and eagerly showed you the napkin. By the time you turned around, the girls were already gone.

Tagging the party: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav

Author's note:

Simeon's part sucked the soul out of me (not in the good way), but at least it's well-written. Also, this will be the last part for now: I don't know Mephisto, Raphael or Thirteen enough, so they won't be in any of my posts (for now)

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kennarose1108 · 11 months

Text

Clingy (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

At the beginning of your relationship, Miguel was distant from you as you expected him to be. He didn't want to get close to you because he didn't want to feel the need to depend on you. He lost so much and he was afraid if he got close to you he'd lose you too. But as time went on he grew more attached to you. You were so kind and beautiful he just couldn't get enough of you.

But as he got more attached his fear of losing you grew and it got more clingy towards you, afraid if he let you go you'd somehow die on him. He didn't want to smother you of course and he kept his distance when he realized he was doing too much but you honestly didn't mind his clinginess. It always reminded you of how far you came with him and you felt loved.

Nights were the worst for Miguel though, he always clung to you when you both went to bed and if he woke up and you weren't in his arms he'd always check the bed and every time you were there. He'd reach his hand out to touch the fabric and your body was always there to meet with his hand. Then he'd pull you closer to him and he'd fall back asleep. He was afraid in the night someone would take you away from him, it was one of his worst fears.

Because of his anxieties, you tried not to get out of bed at night. If you needed to use the bathroom you'd try to be quiet to not wake him and freak him out. And you always succeeded. But tonight was different. You woke up and felt your throat was abnormally dry. You couldn't fall back asleep with your throat like this, it just wasn't possible. So you quietly got out of bed and headed to the kitchen.

As you were in the kitchen Miguel woke up. He felt you weren't in his arms anymore and he reached out to touch you… But you weren't there. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and continued to search for you, but still nothing. Then his eyes shot open and he noticed the empty spot next to him and the panic set in. He sat up and called for you, "Y/N?!" He yelled. His anxieties were telling him the worst, he was afraid someone kidnapped you or even killed you.

He hopped out of bed and pushed through the bedroom door, "Y/N?!?" He yelled again. You jumped as the impact of the door hitting the wall scared you. His body psychically untensed when he saw you in the kitchen with a glass of water in your hand. "Miguel? Honey, what's wrong?" You ask as you set the glass on the counter with a concerned look on your face. His body was visibly shaking and his breathing was hard. You walked over to Miguel and gently brushed your hand against his cheek. "I'm okay… I was just getting some water… I'm still here with you, don't worry." You say while resting your hand against his chest. You felt his heart beating fast and you frowned. "Go back to bed Miguel… I'll be there in a moment, okay?" You say with a reassuring smile. Miguel nodded and slowly walked back into the room.

You walked back to your glass and drank down the liquid. When you finished you placed the glass into the sink and walked back into the room. When you walked in Miguel was sitting up in bed and looking down at the bed in sadness. Your heart broke at the sight of him looking so defeated. You walked over to Miguel and ran your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch and sighed. You crawled into his lap and straddled his hips. You pulled him into a hug and he wraps his arms tightly around your body. He rested his face into the crook of your neck and you rubbed your fingernails gently along his scalp and his back.

"I'm sorry…" Miguel mumbled. "You have nothing to be sorry for… It's okay to be afraid." You say while placing a kiss on his head. "Yeah but… I feel like I'm smothering you…" Miguel murmurs. "Miguel. Look at me." You say while pulling away and cupping his cheeks. He looked into your eyes and you noticed the tears in them, you frown even more. "You're not smothering me. I love being close to you and I understand why you're afraid. Nothing that you have done has ever bothered me." You say with a reassuring smile. Your words seemed to relax Miguel. He nodded and he blinked away the tears in his eyes. "Okay… Now, let's go back to sleep hm?" You say before placing a kiss on his nose.

As you were about to crawl to your side of the bed Miguel stopped you. One of the hands that were on your waist traveled up and cupped one of your cheeks. He then leaned in and kissed your lips and you returned the kiss with a smile. The kiss was gentle and full of love… Just full of love, nothing else. He pulled away and smiled at you. You smiled back before crawling to your side of the bed. You went under the covers and laid down, Miguel doing the same. He pulled you close to his body and held you tight and you returned the favor by wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He sighed in relaxation and he felt comfortable and content with you.

"Te amo más que a nada mi amor…" Miguel whispered in your ear as you drifted off into sleep.

#miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider-man #into the spider verse #spider verse #across the spiderverse

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revasserium · 7 months

Note

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

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glow-worms-are-believers · 10 months

Text

Dream Lover (dp x dc)

The alarm on his cellphone rang and Danny groaned as a fumbled blindly to close it again.

“Wha’ izzit?” Came a sleepy voice at his back.

Danny rubbed his eyes as he sat up. Then, he turned towards the other man entangled in the sheets.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” Danny said before dropping a kiss on the man’s forehead, displacing his white streak. The man muttered some unintelligible words as he wriggled around a bit before settling back down.

Danny gave him a fond look before a yawn forced his eyes closed. He slipped off the bed and padded down to the kitchen. With bleary eyes he put the coffee machine on and got the milk out of the fridge as he waited for the beans be ground.

The machine was way fancier than anything Danny had ever owned but his boyfriend liked good coffee and Danny liked making him happy. The breaker-hammer noise stopped indicating the coffee was done and the halfa sipped at it as he tried to figure out what that niggling feeling in the back of his mind was.

Before he could delve into it very far, he heard his boyfriend coming into their little kitchen.

“Did the noise wake you up?” Danny asked as the man wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist and buried his head in his back.

“Was already ‘wake,” the octopus masquerading as a human mumbled.

“Want some coffee?”

“Please.” His boyfriend pressed a kiss to his nape before staggering towards the kitchen chair and sagging into it.

”Good night?” Danny asked as he started the machine again.

“The usual,” the man said as he rubbed the sleep out of his face.

“Why are you up early?”

“Gotta fix up the bike.” The man yawned which made Danny yawn too. “It kept backfiring last night.”

Danny hummed as that niggling feeling came back at the mention of the motorcycle. There was something there…

“What about you?” The man said as he held his face in his palm.

“Nothing much,” Danny said as he refocused on the conversation. “I don’t have to go in today, so I’ll probably just study.”

“I made butternut pasta when I came back. There’s some left for lunch,” his boyfriend said as he grabbed a banana from their fruit bowl.

“You’ll be here for lunch?” Danny asked as the flow of coffee stopped and he took the cup away from the little shelf.

“Thanks,” the man said as he accepted the cup. “Probably.”

Danny nodded and he leaned on the counter as he looked into the distance. His eyes caught on a clock and again, that annoying sensation he was forgetting something tickled him.

Clock meant hours which meant seconds which meant sand trickling in an hourglass which meant time passing and Time meant-

“Everything ok?” Came the low tenor of his boyfriend.

Danny shook away the thought and smiled at him. “Just zoning out.”

Then the smaller man finished his cup before he put it in the sink. “Gonna go brush my teeth,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen

“You didn’t even eat!” Came the voice Corning from the other room.

“Not hungry,” sing-songed Danny as he grabbed his toothbrush.

As he put the paste on the brush his mind wandered a bit. He started brushing, in the back and made his way forward. He was up to his canine and he started on his fangs which had him frown. Fangs? Wait a minute.

And then it all came rushing back. Phantom. Ghosts. This was a dream which meant-

“Nocturn,” Danny said. Sure it had been a while since he dated anyone but this was a whole new level of single if Nocturn had resorted to creating the ideal boyfriend to trap him in a dream.

Danny walked back to the kitchen and stood in the door entrance and stared at his imaginary dream boyfriend. Said boyfriend turned his head around and lifted an inquiring eyebrow.

“You really are perfect,” Danny said.

“You say the sweetest things,” the dream-construct said and the corner of his eyes creased beautifully as he smiled.

Danny sighed wistfully before bending to kiss his cheek. “Until then, dream lover.”

With a snap the dream collapsed and the halfa opened his eyes to the green of the Infinite Realms with the ghost sensation on his lips.

Simultaneously, in one of his safe houses in Gotham, Jason’s eyes snapped open as his hand flew to his cheek.

#Nocturn can’t make up people in his dreams #And also pulling real people in makes the dream more realistic #Danny is unaware of this #Jason woke up feeling loved and happy and is suspicious as fuck #dead on main #dc x dp #dp x dc #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

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girlrotterr · 2 months

Text

Taste of Worship.

ellie x fem!reader Summary: you're the pastor's daughter.

──────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────────

ellie winked at you.

winked.

She was sitting across from you at lunch when you glanced at her. It sent a shiver down your spine. The table erupted with tension as she continued to eat, a smirk on her lips.

her smirk.

The way she looked at you was intoxicating. She could see the effect she was having on you. You felt your face getting hot, a heat came up from inside you and ran from your cheeks to the nape of your neck. You felt this overwhelming sense of excitement and fear at the same time.

You glanced down and grabbed your book, hoping to shift your focus from the sudden interaction with ellie. But as you scanned the pages, the letters turned into a confusing jumble, making no sense. Your mind couldn't shake off what just happened. Frustration built up, annoyed that ellie had this power over your thoughts. She's known for causing trouble, challenging the rules and authority. Yet, there was something about her rebellion that excited you, something you couldn’t understand.

ellie started tapping on the table, right at the edge of your book. You glanced up, meeting her green eyes—losing yourself in their depths seemed all too easy.

“what're you reading?" she casually asked, throwing you off guard.

"a romance novel.." you answered while picking at the edge of the book.

ellie let out a soft chuckle.

"why a romance novel? do you want a boy to be after you? i’m sure the pastor wouldn't approve of that." She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table.

Your eyes widened as your father, the pastor, was unexpectedly mentioned. His rules and expectations weighed heavily on you. His strict guidelines formed an invisible cage, restricting your every move. It felt like each step was predetermined, following the teachings he believed in. Everybody had crafted an illusion of pureness that you were forced to maintain.

“i-it's for educational purposes" you stammered.

ellie smiled, her eyes shining in a playful manner that made you shiver from inside. She got out of her seat, circled the table, and came closer to you. "what kind of educational purpose? to grow your knowledge on kissing, sweet nothings to the ears… sex?"

You quickly got up, the abrupt movement causing the table to shake. Clutching your book, you began to walk away. She’s crazy!

ellie smirked at you. She followed up and kept teasing you. She got a little bit too close to you, invading your space. She was so close, almost touching noses. "the pastor wouldn't like that. It's a sin. are you a sinful girl?"

You stepped into the bathrooms, the sound of ellie trailing close behind. "l-leave me alone!”

ellie leaned on the wall, arms crossed, looking at you in a way like she owned you. The smirk on her face drove you insane; you felt yourself getting weak at just seeing her.

"are you a sinful girl?" She repeated. She knew exactly how much effect she had on you.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and you found yourself staring at her doe-eyed. In that moment, you were at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond.

ellie leaned even closer to you, her breath whispering into your ears. "you're lost for words?... that's too bad; i was waiting for an answer.." She stared right into your eyes as she tugged at the hem of your skirt. She played with it. Her hand brushed your thigh for a few seconds. It felt like fire was caressing you.

“there isn't an answer.." You responded, looking down at the floor, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. ellie's fingers delicately traced your chin, lifting your head, locking your gaze with hers.

"then what am I witnessing? you're all red, your heartbeat is accelerating, and I can sense your breath speeding up," she remarked, gently moving your chin with her fingers, the warmth of her touch leaving a lingering sensation.

"you can't hide anything from me.” she smirked, closing the distance, her arms wrapped around you from behind, and her body pressed against yours.

"let me give you an answer," ellie whispered, her breath against your ear, "you're a very sinful girl, a girl with so many urges…are you scared of that?" The words hung in the air, leaving tension between you.

Your breath hitched at her gentle touch. Her arms were around you, her body pressed against yours. Your heart jumped out of your chest. Your insides trembled. Your mouth was dry, and you couldn't say a single word. She kept talking to you, her voice caressing your ears, making them go red and heat up.

"You're so pure in front of the pastor and everyone else, but inside, oh… you’re filthy.”

“Let me guess,” She whispered in your ear, her lips gently tracing it, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. Her tongue teased around your ear, the hot sensation causing goosebumps across your skin. A wave of heat flooded your body, leaving you trembling.

“I bet all those desires are filled with my name.”

Your breath hitched at her comment. “t-that’s insane!”

ellie pulled away before laughing, still smirking at you. "you won't admit it yet, no?”

“The pastor's daughter wants a little revenge, a way to get out of these boring walls..”

Your eyes widened at the thought, the exhilaration of rebellion pulsating through you. ellie’s knee slid up between your legs, positioning you on her thigh. Her gaze, filled with desire, fixated on you. Her dominant and controlling nature taking possession of you.

The feeling of her thigh was hot against your cunt. Her mouth became closer until she was only inches from your lips.

“We have nothing to be scared of; we'll make our sin together."

Your lips parted, itching to speak. You wanted to explain how utterly wrong she was, how absurd it was to think such thoughts about her. As if you'd been staring at her licking her fingers clean from an ice cream cone last summer, or adjusting her belt in the locker rooms, the image of it being undone engraved in your mind. As if you'd follow the trail of juices running down her chin whenever she ate fruit.

Before you could even say a word, ellie's lips met yours, and in an instant, all your worries and thoughts dissolved. You felt entranced, as if you'd been drawn into something forbidden. Your lips were tainted with sin, yet you couldn't help but surrender to every moment of it.

Her warmth seeped into every fiber of your being. The sensation of her lips against yours was like a blazing inferno, igniting a passion that felt almost unbearable. The taste of her saliva was like liquid fire, burning your lips.

ellie began unbuttoning your shirt. With each button she unfastened, your excitement intensified. She pulled you closer, pressing down on your hips. Her warm breath against your lips.

“mm.. so fucking pretty..”

She’s staring at your breasts, your white lace bra cupping your chest perfectly. It was a beautiful sight to ellie, and the fact that it had been kept from her was annoying. She’s had her eye on you the minute she enrolled. Admiring the way you moved, the way your thighs swayed. God… she just wanted to grip them, lick them, fuck the cunt that’s between them. Her fingers trailed up your stomach, she ran them along your neck, and slightly played with your hair. She looked at you, noticing your flushed cheeks, your vulnerability making you appear pathetic.

“..m’gonna ruin you..” she said, her husky voice tickling your skin.

Her hand cupped your left tit, squeezing it forcefully while locking eyes with you. Her gaze filled with hunger.

“m-mngh..ellie…”

Her grip tightened, “hm?.. what is it?” You began to squirm against her thigh, the friction making you whine.

“n-need..”

“need what baby?” ellie's lips pressed against your tit, her hot breath causing a pulsating throb. She immediately went to mark your chest with bites, her teeth seeping through the fat of your breast. Her tongue glided strings of saliva all along your nipples.

"you fucking need this?" she breathlessly uttered.

“m-mhm..” Your nipples felt numb from her bites. She continued down, kissing from your stomach to your panties.

“pretty girl couldn’t use her words for me?”

The feeling of her lips along your body made you moan so softly, you couldn’t help it. "fuck.." she grunted, your moans were a melody to her ears. As if they were celestial. She wanted to keep hearing you moan, to turn you into a pathetic mess. Hell, she even wanted to see if she could make you moan her name.

“I can’t fucking take this,” ellie uttered, removing her leg from between your thighs. With a firm grip on your waist, she positioned you on the edge of the sink. She knelt on the bathroom floor, placing her face between your thighs with your cunt so agonizingly close to her mouth.

"I've been waiting for this..-" kiss "for.. so.. fucking-" kiss "long."

“Mngh!” you bucked your hips against her lips as she kissed your pussy. She hadn't even taken your panties off yet, but the sensation was enough to make you cum.

“mm.. yeah?”

“god.. please..” You moaned, tilting your head back as ellie's voice vibrated against your clit. ellie trailed her fingers over the wet patch on your panties.

“fuckk..” she groaned against your pussy, her ability to make you this wet should be a sin in itself. She shifted your panties to the side, now fully admiring your pussy. Your hole oozing, folds all sticky, your puffy clit throbbing, begging to be licked. It's a mess – your pussy is drenched, and it’s all because of her.

“god damn..” she whispered, “all for me.”

You gazed down at ellie, and the intensity of her stare on your pussy gave you goosebumps. It was as if she was in a trance, fixated on the view before her. She didn't need to do anything else; just admiring the sight seemed to be enough for her.

You gently ran your fingers through her auburn hair, locking eyes with her in a silent plea. As she looked up at you, and... fuck. Your flushed crimson cheeks and swollen, saliva-covered lips were a sight to behold. It felt almost sacred, as if this moment was an illicit prayer.

“taste me...” you commanded, clenching onto her hair, tugging on it slightly.

“mnphh... gonna taste it… n’gonna fuck it…” ellie groaned, her husky voice vibrating against your cunt. You moaned, tugging on her hair with more aggression. God, you just wanted to slam her face into your pussy.

“nghhh... fucking do it... please.”

“s.. such a pretty pussy... s’all mine... fuckk...” ellie slurred her words, completely pussy drunk. The more she talked, the more desperate your cunt became. Her mouth was achingly close to your clit, the vibrations of her voice were the only stimulation.

“ngh!” You'd finally had enough, tugging on ellie’s hair, bringing her mouth to your clit. The sensation of her warm lips pressing against it made your hips buck.

"m’gonna-" ellie stopped babbling, realizing her mouth was on your hot cunt. She immediately pounced onto it, licking from your slit right back up to your puffy clit, your wetness coating her warm tongue.

“so fucking good,” She spread your folds with her index and middle finger, parting your pussy like a flower in bloom. She dived back in, licking and sucking on your clit, creating a sloppy mess. Your wetness covered her lips entirely as she gripped your thighs, her nails digging deep into your flesh.

“fucking... fuck!” ellie frustratingly muttered, annoyed that she couldn't get enough. Aggressively, she placed your legs over her shoulders, granting her more access. Her licks became rougher, all sloppy, and you felt the pressure of her tongue against your slit, teasing inside your dripping hole.

You tugged on her hair harder, “Ah!... e-ellie...” you gasped breathlessly, your moans becoming louder, on the verge of cumming.

“Nghhh!!” ellie groaned, hearing you moan her name sent her off the walls. She needed to engrave this moment into her mind, into her soul, into her very bones. It was her, and only her, causing you ecstasy.

“you’resogood... you’reso... fuckinggood... nghh.” ellie quickened her pace, completely pussy drunk. She couldn't get enough; she craved the taste of you on her tongue, wanting it to linger forever. She'd stay on the bathroom floor until her knees bruised just to savor it.

“god... ellie-” Your eyes started to roll back, gazing up at the ceiling as if lost in prayer. You tugged on ellie's hair, pressing her face harder into your pussy, as if she wasn't already close enough. Your legs began to tremble, your body surrendering to the rhythm of ellie's tongue. You were in heaven.

“fuckk... yeah...” ellie smugly backed away from your pussy, admiring the mess she created. Her mouth was entirely covered in your wetness, giving her lips a shiny gloss.

“sin never tasted this sweet.”

#ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie fic #ellie fanfic #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x you

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itneverendshere · 3 months

Text

can't remember anything before you - rafe cameron.

request: "can you write something for rafe, where he's had a crush on topper's older sister for ages and he finally does something about it? it can be fluffy and smutty, honestly I'm just here for the plot."

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: wrote 11 word pages i apologize;

WARNINGS: p in v; fingering; handjob; smut with feelings; smut with plot; a lot of cursing; rafe being a lover boy; mentions of slow burn like the slowest burn of his life but it pays off; mentions of voyeurism; p in v out in public??; wrote the word moan a thousand times.

you drive him insane.

what the hell are you doing prancing around the house in the tiniest red bikini known to mankind?

rafe's not a creep, okay? earlier, he tried to redirect his attention, focus on anything else – the tv, the background music, even the patterns on the wallpaper – but his gaze involuntarily gravitated back to you. it's as if the universe conspires against him, pushing him to the edge of his self-control.

it's not just the stupid bikini; it's the way you carry yourself.

it's not fair.

it's why he secluded himself from the party an hour ago, slipping away unsuspectedly to the little private lounge you kept in your favorite area to sunbathe. he sank into a reclining chair, running his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration.

closing his eyes for the millionth time that evening, rafe tries to summon the strength to think about you in anything except the slutty number you're wearing— and it still doesn't help. in the distance, laughter from the party echoes, a stark reminder of the festivities he chose to distance himself from.

then, the hidden door creaks open, and without looking, he knows it's you.

it's your spot after all. maybe this was a terrible idea.

the subtle scent of your sunscreen wafts through the air, and the sound of footsteps approaches. rafe's heart quickens, torn between the desire to get the fuck away from you and your scent that urges him to stay. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, clinging to the darkness as if it can shield him from you.

completely fucked. he's so fucked.

you settle into a nearby chair, and the silence between you is almost comforting. almost. because that sleazy bikini of yours is still very much imprinted into his brain. rafe finally musters the courage to open his eyes, only to meet yours the second he does.

it takes an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the groan in his throat when he realizes your arms are crossed and doing absolutely nothing to hide your tits. the world seems to narrow down to the glistening droplets of water on your skin, the curve of your body. his gaze trails down and he almost folds on the spot.

oh, for fuck's sake.

the reclining chair suddenly feels like a throne of thorns. he should've gone home. ogling you is nothing new in his book, it's what he does best, but now that you've spent the entire summer together...having you all to himself after years of barely catching a glimpse of you during the holidays or summer breaks in the outer banks, rafe knows that it's not just a stupid crush on his best friend's older sister.

it's not just a fleeting desire, it's something that has been brewing inside him for years, and the eye of its right here.

"you, okay?"

rafe almost jumps out of his skin, as your voice breaks the silence. he hesitates, finding it difficult to find the right words when you're looking at him with your pretty eyes.

he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, "yeah, yeah. i'm...i'm good." rafe replies, his voice rougher than he intends.

your pouty lip’s part, perhaps ready to probe further, but he can't let you mess with his head.

"just needed a breather from the party, y'know?" he adds, hoping the casual tone will deflect you from analyzing him like one of your books. you're the only one who always saw through the layers he wrapped around himself.

too fucking smart for you own good.

you tilt your head slightly, exposing your pretty neck, "were my cocktails that bad?"

there's an underlying teasing undertone, and he can't help but let out a small, rueful chuckle, "nah, don't think they could be bad even if you tried, peach." he replies, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

your heart races at the sight of him. he’s gorgeous. no one should be allowed to look this good, especially with a shaved head and a three-day stubble. you'd like to blame the drinks for luring your nasty thoughts out, but you know this, is entirely on you.

weird, right?

this was rafe cameron. the little rafe cameron who grew up down the street from you, the insufferable kid your brother brought along to every single-family vacation and had the biggest crush on you when you were seventeen. the metamorphosis from the boy to the captivating man seated before you makes you head hurt.

he's a man now, the prettiest you've ever seen, and it only took him one summer to have you under his palm.

his phone looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly play with the screen.

"am i boring you?" you ask, leaning your head back into the chair, his perfume, replica jazz club you assume, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his buff chest and just inhale him, "you haven't spoken a word to me all day."

there's a slight buzz from the alcohol in your veins that allows you to ask the questions you'd never ask if you were sober.

rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing you slowly. "'course i have."

you scoff, feigning nonchalance. "no, you haven't. it's like you're avoiding me."

rafe's heart skips a beat. "avoiding you? m'not avoiding you."

you raise a perfect eyebrow, challenging him, "really?"

rafe shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting curves that the tiny red bikini accentuates.

"is it because raven is here?"

his eyes are busy tracing the lines of your features with an unwavering dedication. he's never been the best at multitasking when in your presence. he sees your lips moving but can't wrap his head around what you asked.

when he catches your eye again, there's a subtle blush gracing your cheeks, but you don't look away, "who?"

"raven. your ex? the girl you were fucking on spring break?"

rafe's eyes widen comically, surprise and discomfort settling on his face. he shifts in his chair again, as you've catch him off guard. how the fuck did he forget you knew about raven?

"oh, uh, raven. yeah—i mean no! no, no, it's not about her. we're not a thing anymore," he stammers out, fingers scratching his stubble, "that was a spring break thing."

you sit up straighter, the tequila and curiosity-fueling your boldness, "a spring break thing, huh?"

you pray to god he can't pinpoint the jealousy coating your words.

his jaw slightly slackens, forming an unintentional expression of awe as you move your legs, once again momentarily losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. beads of sweat form on his forehead as he struggles to maintain composure.

the heat is not helping his situation at all.

when the silence becomes a little too overbearing for you, you can't shake the growing unease that you might be unintentionally bothering rafe's peace. your words flowed, but you notice a subtle glaze over his blue eyes, a distant look that hints at his mind wandering elsewhere.

is he thinking about raven?

you adjust your posture, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your arm, a subtle sign of your growing discomfort, "do you want me to leave?"

rafe's eyes snap back to you, the fleeting moment of distraction replaced by a sudden intensity. he blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the mental fog that had settled, "'course not," there's a hint of urgency in his voice. he doesn't want you to leave, and that realization tightens the knots in his stomach, "always want your company."

this is unbearable. you've gotten him on a tight leash, and you don't even know.

his tone makes your lips twitch, and you press them together to keep from smiling, "aww, look at you being nice to me, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

an involuntary groan escapes his throat, the sound automatically making you clench your thighs.

"you remember that?"

"course i do, you're the only guy who's ever gifted me flowers."

that's because you've only dated douchebags, it's what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't because it's none of his business.

"how much have you had to drink?"

you smirk, "a little. how much have you had to drink?"

he trails his eyes up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat, "a little."

a subtle awareness tingles at the back of your senses and that's when it hits you.

rafe is staring at you.

he's not shy about it; his eyes trail over you, leaving a tangible heat in their wake, practically eating you alive and you have to take another look to confirm you're not being a delusional bitch. so maybe... you did wear this bikini hoping he would finally do something, that he'd finally understand that you want him.

you've spent the entire summer teasing him. seeing if you could get a rise, hit the right button.

you quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips, "bikini's nice, isn't it?"

he clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying the restraint he's trying to maintain.

"yeah, it's...it's something," he replies, the words slightly breathless. he crosses his arms across his chest, biceps big enough to make you want to climb him like a tree.

you lean forward propping yourself on one of your elbows, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage, "you know, rafe, you've been pretty quiet."

his lips, naturally inviting, become the focal point as he bites down on the lower one, "just...taking in the view, i guess." he mumbles, his gaze momentarily darting away before locking onto you again.

rafe feels like he's fourteen again, unable to hold a conversation with a pretty girl like you. except he's twenty-two and he should know better. you're going to give him a stroke.

"the view, huh?” your eyes widen in mock-surprise, “and do you like what you see?" you ask.

he swallows hard. uh-oh, is he really about to do this?

"you know i do." he admits, the admission laced with a raw honesty that takes you by surprise.

got him right where you want him.

you decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of the bikini strap.

"wasn't sure about the red, but it's your favorite color."

his head whips back around and he swears he hears a crack. if he wasn't fully hard before, he is now.

you both know you meant what you said, not just a heat-of-the-moment confession. his gaze is fixed on you and his eyebrows are pushed together in a painful expression and he just keeps shaking his head.

he opens his mouth, takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body and leans forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life, "peach."

there's an underlying warning in his voice, begging you to take a step back and rethink this entire thing, but quite frankly, you're tired of thinking. as matter of fact, you're done making excuses not to fuck rafe.

he exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" his voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

you're both breathless and you haven't even touched each other.

it's time you deliver the final nail to the coffin.

"you're gonna do something about it or do i have to find someone else?"

the realization eventually sinks in: you want him. you want him as desperately as he wants you. you've pushed him to the edge, and there's no turning back now.

his hands are on you before you can blink again, roaming fingers locking around your wrist to pull you towards him, knocking his phone to the ground in the process, but he doesn't care, everything's background noise when you stumble into his lap, pretty legs dangling to the sides. his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer, chest to chest, fingers digging into your hips like he's trying to convince himself you're not an illusion.

the world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation.

rafe's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

"y'sure about this?" he whispers, voice a low growl, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes you want to kiss him stupid.

his hands, which had been restless before, find a purpose as his fingertips brush the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes sweep up to meet your own.

"please." the words come out like a plea.

“please, what?" he asks, so smug you almost punch him, "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

“kiss me.”

and then his lips are on yours. it's more than just kissing; it's a fusion of desires, an electric current that drags you under. rafe's touch is confident, yet tender, as if he is unraveling a secret, delicate treasure. your senses heighten, catching the subtle nuances of his warm breath mingling with yours.

rafe's kiss is a slow burn, a deliberate exploration that leaves trails of heat in its wake. there's an artistry to the way he traces the contours of your lips, teasing and coaxing, building a crescendo of anticipation, rendering you breathless.

the lounge chair becomes a battleground of hands and lips, a frenzied exchange of desires unleashed, an intensity that borders on desperate, as if trying to capture and savor every moment. your fingers trace along his arms, and his hands explore every inch of your body, as if mapping out the territory he's yearned for.

his lips leave a trail of fire along your jawline, down to your collarbone, and you suppress a cry, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. the summer nighttime air feels heavy, thick with the scent of sunscreen and the heady aroma of desire.

rafe breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

you’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath.

"been driving me insane all summer, y'know that?" he admits, a husky edge to his voice, throat bobbing, "so fucking insane." he whispers into your neck.

he can't even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

you attempt to keep an even voice, but nonchalance escapes you for the time being. "that was the plan all along."

rafe chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear, "god, gonna be the death of me."

there’s no time to reply because he leans his head and catches your lips faster this time.

he tilts your head down, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. your lips part again, and so do his. he swallows your moan into his mouth, and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth, hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck, fingers kneading the back of it.

you press your body further into his and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. his skin feels so hot against yours, he’s unbearably hard and you’re positively dying to get your hands on every single inch of his skin.

your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as rafe’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. the unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. you can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and he restrains himself, you deserve better than to get fucked out here. he watches closely, hypnotized by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your covered folds.

“baby, we can—can’t, jesu—not here.”

the new pet name makes you feral for him.

you trace a finger up the column of his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, you don’t stop moving your hips, watching his eyes flutter every time you rub just the right way.

“why not?”

rafe groans, head falling back to the chair, “here?”

it’s almost funny how he’s willing to bend over every decision he’s ever made in his life, just for you. he’s letting you dry hump him right here, when your brother, his best friend and god knows who can walk in at any given moment.

you nod pathetically, brain turned into mush, “can’t wait any longer.”

“stop saying shit like that.” he warns you through gritted teeth, “fuck.”

the needy sound that rips through your chest when his hands leave your thighs echoes in his mind.

“peach”, he begins, roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezing the flesh just below the swell of your rear, “y’have a problem with control."

both your lips are swollen pink and ridden with spit.

“like you’re any better.”

you’re such a brat.

rafe grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his pretty eyes, “let’s not make any noise, yeah?” his lips create a path up your throat, hands on your ass, kneading and pushing so he can grind you all over his growing bulge.

you whimper, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you just want him to touch you. his hips roll slowly, rubbing his hard-on lazily and mindlessly. he can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“just touch me,” you grip his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life as his hands trail back, the bits of his nails scraping along your naked thighs.

they catch the waistband of your bikini bottoms. he traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips his fingers underneath, swiping them along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze.

this time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy pink and glistening for him.

“’m touching you, peach,” his touch, and scent, cloud your vision, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet-mouthed kisses to your neck, “m touching you.”

”more,” you whine, lips barely parted, drawing out another salacious moan from him. “fuck.”

“like this?” he whispers against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, watching your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamored gaze, “you’re so fucking wet.” he tsk under his breath, shaking his head in the typical rafe cameron condescending way.

he presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. you groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. so fucking tight. you rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

his half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger.

he coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. he nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. the squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“rafe—“ you hand grips his wrist as your eyes roll back when his fingers find that spot.

“t’s good?”

“so good,” you whine loudly, he’s cocky tone only adding to his allure.

you can feel the stretch it takes just to take his finger, rutting into you, curling perfectly.

he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed – your voice when you’re being fucked. you’re gushing around his digits, hands now clutching his shoulders. it’s like you can’t stop moving them, needing to feel every ridge of his body.

rafe adds another finger, pressing the tips of his middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grins when you cry out his name.

“fuck,” you cry out against his skin dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devours all air in your lungs. your fingers curl around the band of his bathing shorts, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.

“let me touch you,” you plead, words muffled by the way your tongue can’t seem to leave his skin alone, teeth grazing along where his neck and shoulder meet. you nip at the area, before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking the tender flesh with your teeth.

holy fuck, are you marking him?

“oh god."

a third finger, your hips now rutting against him.

“hickeys, baby? that territorial, huh?” his hand slows for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your clit before he continues, both motions in tandem. you cry out, eyes screwed close, hips shoving forward, “you look so pretty like this," rafe whispers against your skin, his full-blown pupils looking up at you through his long lashes.

“i want more”

“every little sound you make goes straight down to my cock,” he’s rubbing his cock so perfectly against your clit again, only making you whine more desperately for him. he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, just so he can see you blindly chase after his lips.

and then, you feel empty.

he lets his fingers slide all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of you bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely. he ignores your protests and drags his thick fingers across your wet folds. when he feels satisfied with the coat around his fingers, he moves them toward your face, letting them trail over your lips.

“gon’ open up f’me?”

you gasp, but obey immediately, tongue darting out to lick your slick off his fingers. rafe doesn’t hold back his groan, watching your tongue swirling around his digits. he throws whatever concerns he had over your noises out the window.

he’s too lost in your body to care if someone finds you two or not.

as a matter of fact, let them see. god knows he’s dying to show those bastards you belong to him anyway. he wants you all to himself, wants the whole world to know you’re his.

“so, so, so good,” he praises, closing the gap, lips molding right into yours again. his hands find home in your throat, adding just right the amount of pressure to make you sigh against his lips.

rafe smirks, brushing a finger along your skin, should’ve guessed his pretty peach had kink for praises. your tummy is in a knot because he’s running his hands along your body, and you just need to have him.

you clumsily slip his shorts and boxers down, just enough to touch him, and he raises his hips automatically helping you slide them down, his cock springing out of his confines to lightly hit against his abdomen.

you break the kiss, needing to look at him.

and you’re so glad you do, because rafe has the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. you catch yourself staring at him, devouring every part of his body with your eyes.

he feels his heartbeat faster, face flush when your eyes are back on his face as you softly wrap one of you manicured hands around him, just slightly, slow pumps. but it’s more than enough to make him drop his head back, adam’s apple bobbing, brows pitched together.

“good?” you ask him, keeping the pace so you can feel him throb in your hand.

“everything’s good when it’s you peach,” he grunts out, and the way his abs seem to recoil makes your tongue slide across your bottom lip, “fucking perfect.”

your thumb smears precum across his tip, bending forward to ghost your lips over his, “need you inside me.”

the way rafe’s jaw drops open in a silent moan when you tighten your hold around him is beautiful, searing itself in the back of your mind.

settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth, sucking softly, moving your hips even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your breasts—the other one flicking your nipple with his thumb.

you keep your eyes open, needing to memorize every single moment. his breath comes down on your lips in heavy pants, fingers teasing your skin, hums of pleasure circling both of you.

“want me inside you?” his voice sounds so husky it makes you want to cry, “want me to fil you up?”

your hand leaves his cock, pulling him to you by his shoulders, and he braces himself with one hand on your waist, another on the chair.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “that bad?”

“don’t tease me,” you struggle to produce words, hands winding through his chest, “waited long enough.”

rafe holds his cock by the base, running it up and down your pussy, “not longer than i have.”

you sink down onto him, biting your lip at the slow pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulls at your middle. you can feel tears brimming your eyes from pure relief and he feels like every single fiber of his being is scorching.

he can feel just how deep he his, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like his life depends on it, “fuck. that’s it, baby.”

your hands are placed firmly on his stomach, and one of his glides up right up to your throat, pulling you down to his chest. all you can properly let out of your mouth are pleas and whimpers. the stretch is on the edge of painful, but he fits so perfectly inside of you. you huff a short breath when he’s all the way in.

“you okay?” he asks against your ear, softly biting the lobe.

your answer is a desperate roll of your hips, “perfect.”

you begin to move your hips up and down, as the stretch gives way to something delirious, and rafe takes mercy on you, beginning to thrust back up into you, his rhythm building up until your mouth falls open again into a pretty moan, until sweat shines on the high points of his perfectly sculpted face. every time your skin touches his it’s fucking scorching, and the stretch is agonizing, and the heavy air is suffocating but then he’s bottoming out and you feel your brain go fuzzy.

you’re wrapped around him so tight it makes his moves sloppy, almost mindless but so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“waited so long for you,” one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours, swallowing your gentle whimpers, your soft, sweet pleas vibrating against his tongue, “have no idea what you do to me.”

his confession only makes you drag yourself harder against him, clit brushing against his pubic bone, “rafe!”

“that’s it,” he coos, tone gentle, the friction too overwhelming, “so beautiful.”

the strain in his voice makes you want to stay like this forever.

you tighten around him further, letting your nails rake down his chest. rafe grunts, thrusting harder, shifting you closer to him as humanly possible. you feel his stomach and thighs clench, and his hips sputter, “you’re so deep.”

he presses his hand against your stomach, feeling the bulge, “might fuck a baby into you,” he rasps, thumb catching against your clit, “let them know you’re mine.”

“yours,” he’s trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind, “only yours.”

the way he’s stroking you unrushed is absolutely toe-curling, guiding you over his cock with very little maneuvering, gently pushing your hips down onto him.

“gonna keep you here, stuffed, for hours baby.”

you can hear it reverberating through the night air.

the slap of skin, the grunts. the sound of the chair creaking as he fucks you into it. each delicious slip, every time you feel his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your walls. you’re so lightheaded you might pass out.

rafe feels his balls tighten. you are creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock. he’s making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots.

“rafe, baby—" his name being moaned out by you is urging him to bust inside you, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips tightens, “oh—im gon—fuckk.”

he only pushes you faster up and down his dick as your walls grip around him, a mix of your cream and his pre-cum coating his length. his eyes focus on your face, basking in the pretty expressions you make.

“it’s too much.” you whine, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. rafe’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

“you can take it,” his muscles flex from the constant friction. you’re so full, all you can think about is rafe spilling inside of you, “c’mon.”

his cock thrusts even deeper, a sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens. his calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear. he loves the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. he tangles his hand in your hair, forcing your neck to arch up as he leans in, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

“im—m—gonn—” you feel him right at your womb again and again, any semblance of sanity melted away the moment he set his hands on you, “holy fuck.”

“i know baby, keep your eyes on me,” you with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips is enough to make a grown man cry, “eyes on me.”

you lean back, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, circling your hips and doing your best not to close your eyes. the burning inside you is so strong, it’s taking you everything not to close them.

his hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, “oh my god.”

the pace has both of you panting, his balls slapping your ass every single time. a shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and almost scream out his name.

he chuckles breathlessly, “never getting tired of that sound.”

you can feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into him and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gives your throbbing clit. each time he hits your g-spot just right, you feel more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs.

“so fucking pretty,” he groans, punctuating each word with a deep thrust and you feel that tight coil in your belly snapping.

“fuck—rafe,” you pant heavily, breathy whines falling from your lips, legs starting to give out. “oh mhmf—don’t stop!”

your thighs are shaking and seizing as it finally its you, at full force. you squirm in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. the feeling’s so intense it’s almost painful. rafe’s arms hold you tight, keeping you grounded while you shudder in his grasp, his fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

his piercing blue eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, “knew you could do it.”

he doesn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you.

“wonder how many of those i can get out of you.”

long night ahead of you.

______________________________________________________________

might have some grammar mistakes, frankly im not sure at this point lmao, it's late. english's not my first language, it's my third i think. will edit later bc i spent hours writing this and my old ass needs to sleep, thank you for reading <3 by the time im posting this, over 200 of you voted they wanted smut so y'all won, tried best to deliver the goods. also rafe's not mentally unstable in this one, in case that wasn't obvious, he's just a little too in love and cute.

let me know if you enjoy it and if i should start taking requests more frequently!

ps: that picture is how i imagined rafe throughout this whole thing

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x female!mc #rafe imagine #smut #rafe obx

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violetrainbow412-blog · 5 months

Note

Hello!

I wanted to order something from Wonka (2023) because I fell in love with it after watching the movie! So if possible, I would like something fluff in which Reader and Wonka are mutually in love but neither has enough confidence to declare themselves and Noodle helps them both to tell each other their feelings. (sorry if I didn't understand, the english isn't my first language)

A little push [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

note: first of all, I want to tell you not to worry because English is not my first language either (i'm Mexican, where are u from?) and second, I loved writing this, I had fun and I think I got a little excited with the words count, haha. I hope you enjoy!

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

“Everything is amazing!” Noodle squealed, as he walked down the stone hallway and looked around with absolute fascination: from the chocolate river to the glass ceiling through which you could look at the blue sky.

After you had gotten rid of the Chocolate Cartel and the rest of the group had returned to their normal lives, Willy had finally started his dream of building a chocolate factory. Now that it was finally finished, you and Noodle had been the first in the world to have the privilege of seeing it. You had stayed in touch, of course, although it was almost always when he went to town in search of some materials for his creations, to sell chocolates on the streets or to work on rebuilding the store at the Galeries Gourmet.

"So you think?" he asked, smiling. He loved the girl as if she were his little sister and you imagined that her approval would prove to be quite important.

“Of course, it's magnificent,” she assured him. You looked out at the grass and waved at the little orange man (who you now knew was called Lofty) who was drinking from a small cup “Is the river real chocolate?”

“Of course it's real chocolate, who do you think you're talking to?” he murmured, almost offended “Go explore and eat whatever you want. I accept suggestions for improvements” Willy indicated to your friend, who smiled at you apologetically and bolted towards the glass bridge section.

“I think we'll finish the merchandise before the opening,” you joked and then Willy seemed to remember your presence.

His smile was extremely sweet when he turned to you to offer you to take his arm, like a gentleman, and so you began walking, a little slower and a shorter distance.

“It would be impossible, I assure you.”

“How have sales been?” you questioned and then he began to give you a summary of everything.

Abacus was still his trusted accountant so this whole matter was well monitored, which allowed him to make all the movements, purchases, and remodeling. While Noodle (whose name you knew wasn't hers, but you kept calling her that out of habit) was lost in the recesses of the enchanted castle you seemed to be in.

"A flower?" he offered you suddenly, leaning down to pull one of the ones growing on the floor.

"It is eatable?"

“Everything here is edible,” he said cheerfully. “Except me, I guess.”

“Maybe you are, although I think you'd taste quite peculiar,” you said in a soft, teasing voice, hoping he'd catch at least a little of your flirtation.

After everything you had been through at the launderette, as well as the time you had lived together after that, you had become good friends, but little by little you had begun to feel something else blossoming inside you. The boy was handsome, you had realized this from the first moment you saw him, but the more you lived with him you began to realize the great qualities he had. It was much worse when you added to all this the sweetness with which he always treated you and how attentive he was towards everything you wanted.

That's why you threw in some flirtatious comments from time to time, to test the waters, observe his reactions, and thus build an image in your mind to know if you had at least a chance.

“Let's find out,” he said, and your breathing hitched for a moment, but it came out as a chuckle when you saw him lick the back of his hand “Not that unpleasant, though a little salty, I’d say.”

You had to admit that you would have liked to see how your friend tasted differently, but for now you would just let it go. Maybe he was very innocent or maybe he didn't like you.

“What are you working on now? Something new?” you asked curiously, taking a bite of your flower. It was delicious.

"Yeah! Actually yes. Now I'm thinking about creating a chocolate whose flavor contains the three meals of the day, so people who don't have much money could buy it and have the pleasure of the three foods. Oh, and I want to expand the sweets to sell in the store, not only chocolates, but also gum, candies, gummies... What do you think about that?

“Sounds like an excellent idea, Willy” you smiled. He separated from you when you reached the edge of the river falling from the waterfall, where he theatrically removed his hat to pull out a cup that he filled with liquid chocolate and then held out in your direction.

"Do you want?”

“I can drink a little,” you replied, while you took the porcelain container with your fingers and took a sip of the contents. There was something special about his chocolates that you still didn't understand, but he made them a thousand times more enjoyable. “Hhm-mmm.”

“All the chocolate is in constant motion, which makes it beat better and taste smoother,” he explained to you, as he got completely excited when it came to talking about the chemistry behind his creations. You noticed that he was looking at your lips and you were about to say something when he spoke: “You have a little… over there.”

"Here?" you asked, stretching your tongue in the direction where he had pointed, but Willy continued to look at you with some amusement.

“No, in… right there, uh… wait” he murmured and seeing your failed attempts to get rid of the stain he took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket “Let me help you.”

Willy took a step towards you and you gasped when one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, as if he didn't want you to move your face. The other, with the help of the handkerchief, gently passed the corner of your lips.

You took the opportunity to look at him carefully, trying to record as many details as possible: some freckles that he had on the bridge of his nose, a trace of facial hair that he probably shaved in the morning, his bushy eyebrows above his beautiful eyes framed by long eyelashes and finally her pink lips that were pressed in on themselves as a sign of concentration. He was so handsome and so close to you that you were getting nervous.

He, unbeknownst to you, had his own swirl of emotions. The skin of your face that he was holding was soft and in that position it would have been enough to lean in a little to capture your lips with traces of chocolate, without you even noticing it and, probably, without you being able to deny it for a moment. But he didn't want to do that to you, he knew it wasn't correct and after all he didn't know if you felt the same way.

He hummed a word to let you know he was done and suddenly the two of you found yourself looking straight into each other's eyes, lost in each other's gaze. Just two fools in love who didn't realize it.

"What are you doing?"

You separated abruptly when you heard the voice of the girl, who had apparently been watching you for a few seconds, and looked at her accompanied by Lofty. Both of them were smirking.

“Huh, she… had some chocolate on her face and I…”

“Willy helped me remove it” you completed. You didn't even understand why you guys were nervous, it wasn't like you guys were doing anything guilty.

“Do you guys want to go see my lab?” Wonka murmured, trying to divert attention from whatever had happened just a moment ago. “You're going to love it. “I’ll even let you make a chocolate if you want, Noodle.”

“Okay,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders, but giving you a look that clearly meant: we'll talk about this later.

When they began to walk, Willy turned for a second to look at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher and then he returned his gaze to the front, just so that you wouldn't see the blush that had painted his cheeks.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

"Talk about what?" you asked absentmindedly, punching your pillow to soften it.

You and Noodle shared a room because you still couldn't find a place to settle and, furthermore, you had been hired at the library so there was no problem for Dorothy with you staying with them.

“Talk about how you and Willy almost kissed.”

“We weren't going to kiss!” you screeched immediately, turning violently to look at the girl.

“Well, that's what it seemed like. He had his hand on your face and you were so close.”

“He was just helping me remove a stain,” you defended yourself, although it was obvious that you had gotten nervous.

What if he had tried to kiss you? you suddenly asked yourself. No, it was impossible.

“But you like him.”

“Noodle,” you squeaked under your breath, “What kind of questions are those?”

“Oh, you like him!” she concluded. For the girl, the fact that you were evading an answer was an answer in itself. “I knew it.”

“You can't tell him,” you said, resigned that the girl wouldn't let the matter go so easily. “You have to promise.”

"Why not? Maybe he likes you too”

“Well, I prefer not to know that,” you lied. It was obvious that you wanted to know, but you were too worried about ruining your friendship with him to do any real research.

"What is it that you like the most about him?"

"Stop"

“I won't tell him!” the little girl said, raising her hands in surrender. “I swear. I just want to know how it feels, I have never fallen in love with anyone."

The excitement in the girl's eyes ended up convincing you to talk to her about your feelings for your mutual friend and after letting out a deep sigh you sat down on the mattress, patting the spot next to your side as an invitation for her to sit too.

“You must swear to me that you will not tell him. Please,” you warned her and she nodded frantically. “I like his eyes.”

“I knew it,” she said again, victorious. “What else do you like about him?”

You thought the real question was: was there anything you didn't like about him?

“I really like that he is so kind to everyone. And I like that he is a dreamer, I like his curly hair and his strange clothes. I like when he’s cordial with me and I also like that he talks so… I don't know, so softly, you know what I mean?” you asked and she nodded excitedly.

Talking about it with someone was, in a way, very liberating and once you started you couldn't stop. You spent a long time talking about him, gossiping about the little moments that you thought meant some sign and listing your fantasies, while your friend listened attentively.

As the words left your mouth, you convinced yourself more that it wasn't just a crush, but that you were actually in love with that boy. And it scared you, to be honest.

“Will you ever tell him? “You would make a nice couple.”

"That's what you think?” you asked amused. You had already attacked a stock of chocolates that Willy had given you when he left the factory. “Well, I don't know, Noodle. If one day the conditions are right and he gives me some sign, I guess so."

The girl laughed to herself and registered her information in her mind, certain that very soon you would receive that signal and she would personally take care of it.

“Willy!” The man listened and when he turned in the direction of the voice, he found the unruly hair of his little friend.

“Darling, hello,” he greeted cordially, while he bent down a little to give her a hug “What brings you here?”

“I had a break at the library and I wanted to come see if you were here,” she smiled. The store was packed with people, as always, but they were in a quiet enough section “And I also wanted to ask for your help.”

“Sure, whatever you want”

“It's about Y/N,” Noodle said. Noticing that the man's posture straightened a little, she smiled victoriously, because the mere mention of your name had already captured his attention “But you must promise not to say anything to her.”

“My lips will be sealed”

“Well, it's about a boy”

There was silence, where Wonka frowned perceptibly. Noodle couldn't be happier.

"A boy?"

“Yes, I think he likes her. He goes to the library every day just to see her and he talks to her for hours and even helps her organize some of her books. You should see them, they are so cute together. And I want to organize a date for them”

“A date?” he screeched. He felt betrayed by the girl, although she clearly couldn't read her mind and therefore she didn't know about her feelings for you.

"Yeah! I want your help because I want you to make some delicious chocolates that will make them fall in love or something like that”

“My chocolates can't make someone fall in love with someone else,” he said immediately, although that wasn't entirely true. “And why do you want her to go on a date with that guy? Does he even treat her well? What does he look like?”

It was evident that he was, to say the least, affected by the information she was giving him. She could almost say there was some anger in his voice. Or maybe it was just jealousy.

“Wow, wow, calm down Willy. I thought this would excite you.”

“Why should I get excited?” he asked, honestly confused. Noodle had the boy right where she wanted him and he wasn't realizing anything. It was perfect.

“Because she's your friend and I thought maybe you'd like to help me get her a boyfriend. I don't know, for her to be happy and all that”

Willy Wonka remained silent. He seemed to be holding something in his chest that he didn't want to let out and judging by the look on his face she believed that even he might cry. Suddenly the girl felt the man's hand take her arm to take her to an even more secluded place, far from all the curious ears.

"She likes him? You know that?"

“I don't know, she hasn't told me anything.”

Lies, pure lies. She clearly knew that you were madly in love with the boy in front of her.

“I can't do you that favor you want,” he ruled. “But could you do one for me?”

"What do you want?" she asked, pretending to be confused. He took a moment before daring to speak.

“Please distract that boy. Don't let him get close to her."

"And why?"

“Because I like her,” he finally breathed out.

Bingo, she had gotten just what she wanted.

"No way! Are you talking seriously?"

“Yes, but you can't tell anyone, do you understand?”

“Well, it wouldn't be any use for me to tell someone if she is in love with that boy.”

“Don't you dare think about it,” her friend whimpered. There was no such thing as a suitor of yours and she felt like laughing, but she stopped herself. “She seems very interested?”

“Well, not that much, but he will be soon if he keeps acting like that with her.” Noodle snorted and then he pursed his lips and cursed under his breath, “Unless…”

"That?"

“No, it's nonsense”

“Tell me,” he asked, obviously distressed. He really liked you and he didn't want there to be a chance of someone else winning your heart.

“Well, I think she might lose interest in him if you tell her what you feel, don't you think?” she argued.

“What if she doesn't like me?”

“You won't know if you don't tell her!” She mumbled, feeling the same frustration she felt when she had that conversation with you. “Listen, you remember the flamingos at the zoo, right?”

"Aha"

“And do you remember that they didn't fly until they knew they could escape? If they hadn't flown, they would still be there. They had to do it to discover that there was a world out there, you know what I mean?”

“I don't think so,” he replied, concerned, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“What I'm trying to say is that you should tell her if you want to know if she feels the same way. And who knows, maybe so” she murmured. If you knew what she was doing you'd probably be strangling her, but she just hoped everything turned out okay.

The man thought seriously for a moment, with his gaze lost as if he were immersed in his own world, and then he looked at the youngest.

“Well, how do I do that?”

Noodle jumped a little with excitement and pulled her friend to her until they reached a place to sit, prepared to talk to him as much as necessary for him to confess his feelings for you. Willy listened very carefully and by the end of the afternoon they already had a small plan drawn up, that with some luck she would be able to unite her two best friends into a perfect couple.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Willy felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest when he started to look for you in the library, after more than a week of his conversation with Noodle, ready to confess what he felt to you that same afternoon or die trying.

He found you in the history section, carrying a stack of books and looking for the right place to put them. Even without trying you looked very pretty and a sigh escaped him at that, while he thought why it had taken him so long to consider telling you how much he felt for you.

“Huh, hello.”

"Hello, how can I help y…? Willy?”

“That's me,” he said timidly.

“How are you?”

“Well, everything is very good” as you left the books on a shelf and approached him you noticed that he was holding a solitary flower in his hand and you asked with your eyes the reason for it “Oh, this one is for you. It's not chocolate, it's just that I saw it on the way and it reminded me of you, because I know that's your favorite color and because... well, because it's pretty."

“Ow, thank you,” you said tenderly, reaching out to take the present and becoming a little embarrassed. “Were you looking for Noodle?”

“No, I wanted to ask you if once you finish you would like to go for a walk to hang out and… chat. The weather is warmer than ever and spring has beautiful sunsets,” he noted. You didn't understand why he seemed so nervous, nor did you know if you were misunderstanding the situation, but you felt your face turn a barely perceptible shade of red.

“I would love to, actually. But I have to cover a shift and…”

“I'll cover it for you,” someone next to you said quickly. It was Noodle, who had seemingly arrived out of nowhere. “You guys go have fun.”

“But your mom…”

“My mom won't say anything. Come on, go” she insisted, pushing you in the direction of the exit. You didn't know what that girl was up to, but you suspected she was up to no good and gave her a warning look.

“Huh, in that case I guess there is no problem anymore. Just let me go to my room to put on some other clothes and I’ll be back, okay?” you said with a smile. You looked at the girl again, as if searching for an answer, but this time she didn't even notice your look, so you went straight to what you needed.

Once there you took the opportunity to comb your hair, put on some cologne, brush your teeth, put on a pretty necklace, and things like that, hoping to look a little prettier for him.

You placed the flower on your shelf with special care and smiled at the boy's kind gesture towards you. When he said that it reminded him of you because it was pretty, was he calling you pretty? God, you hoped so.

Once you returned to where you had left him you noticed that he was waiting patiently in a chair and Noodle was nowhere to be seen, so you announced your arrival and both of you were ready to leave.

“I'm sorry I arrived unexpectedly” was the first thing he said, once you were outside. He wasn't lying, the atmosphere had started to get warmer.

“It's okay, you don't have to worry. I like surprises”

“I hope so,” he said, more to himself than to you.

You walked in silence through some houses and you took the opportunity to admire the landscape, without really knowing where you were going, but with some curiosity.

“Do you want to go to the pier?” he spoke again, because that was one of the destinations you could reach with the route you had taken “The sunset can be seen from there.”

True, he wanted to show you one of those spring sunsets.

"It's a good idea"

“Okay”

Then the man began to talk about something else, to distract his mind and to distract you, and that talk filled the silence of the entire road. When the sea was in front of you, you leaned against a white wooden railing with the sticky salt-smelling air hitting your face. You noticed that the sun had already started to set.

“The sea is huge,” you said suddenly. He leaned next to you, quite close, and this time he looked a little more confident. “Especially when the tide comes in, at this time.”

“Have you ever traveled by ship?”

“No, no,” you responded quickly. “It would be a disaster if I did that. I get dizzy easily and I would be afraid of drowning.”

“You get dizzy at first, but as time goes by you get used to it,” he assured, sounding amused at your response. “It's a good experience.”

“Did you see a lot of sunsets when you were at sea?” you asked, turning to look at him for a second and then returning your gaze to the natural spectacle.

“And sunrises too. The worst were the storms, you would imagine. But in general, there were very beautiful landscapes”

“I bet so,” you smiled. Your hair was blowing in the wind and Willy could only stare at you.

“Although I don't think any of them were as beautiful as you,” he murmured, in a tone so low that you thought you had imagined it.

You were silent for a second, watching the waves crash against the rocks, and then you were able to speak.

“You called me pretty twice today, did you even eat one of those wine-infused chocolates?” you tried to joke, to mask the fact that you were surprised and nervous in equal parts.

“No, it's not that,” he said, with a seriousness that worried you, as you were hoping he would divert the topic. “I really think you're pretty, very pretty actually. But… I mean, that's not the most important thing about you, I don't want you to think that. You were beautiful inside and out, like… your personality. It's brilliant"

“Oh, nonsense.”

“No, I'm serious.”

You could feel the few rays of sunlight that remained, in the distance, hitting your face, and when you looked at him you realized that it reflected a certain golden glow in his eyes. He was precious.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Everything around you took a backseat to the possibility that those compliments weren't just that, but something more, and then he took a deep breath before answering you.

“It wasn't a lie when I said I wanted to talk to you. It's something important to me and... well, I hope you're okay with this, because I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way."

"With what?" you insisted. A part of you told you that you were just misunderstanding everything, that he couldn't be referring to what you believed.

“Well, with the fact that I think you are a great person, that you are charismatic and kind and beautiful and that I like all of that a lot. I like you a lot"

The world stopped for a second and so did your heart. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn't a dream, but it wasn't necessary because you knew that the breeze, the sun, and the sound of the waves couldn't be the work of a dream, just as the boy in front of you who was waiting for an answer couldn't be one either.

"Really?”

“Sure, why would I lie to you?” he expressed, sincerely bewildered. An involuntary smile lit up his face and then your hand went to hold his. It was big compared to yours, and it was warm.

“I don't know where all that came from, but I'm glad you said it. Because I like you too. Like, really a lot” you said shakily, and then he could breathe again.

“You don't know how happy it makes me to know that,” he smiled, while he brought your hand to his lips and gave you a sound kiss. Suddenly his hands went to your waist and he gently lifted you off the floor, giving you a spin in the air that made you laugh. “You like me too.”

“That's right,” you said, overjoyed to know that you were reciprocated. Had Noodle had anything to do with this confession? You knew it most likely was, but you would make sure to question her later.

“I was so nervous that you wouldn't like me.”

“How could I not like you, huh?” You exclaimed, raising your hands to his cheeks to force him to look at you. “You are perfect and even sweeter than your chocolates. Of course I was going to like you."

Willy blushed at the compliment and suddenly leaned in to hug you, hiding from your gaze captivated by him as he felt unworthy of it. You smiled widely while you stood on your tiptoes and let yourself be held tightly, while you saw the sunset in the distance and you left a soft kiss on his cheek, whispering a soft Love ya in his ear, hoping that that moment would remain engraved in your memory and that it was only the beginning of many more.

Noodle, from home, was smiling just imagining what you two would be doing and, in her mind, by this point you might have even kissed.

And while it wasn't like that, either way, watching the sunset in each other's arms was much more romantic and memorable for both of you.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

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wintaerbaer · 5 months

Text

seven storms (jjk) (m)

summary: As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: forbidden love, angst, a bit of fluff, also a bit of smut

word count: 9.0k

warnings: ambiguous time periods, oc’s mom passed away when she was a child, parental strain and turbulent relationships, it’s not explicitly stated but bang sihyuk is oc’s dad, find the ‘seven’ reference, BRIEF SMUT (in the form of missionary, cowgirl, and implied unprotected, which you should not do)

a/n: this one is for the obs discord server, who came up with this plot and then flattered me until i agreed to write it lol

MASTERLIST // Read on ao3

It begins with a clap of thunder.

The dark clouds had rolled in quickly during your morning ride, the rain holding off on its looming descent even as the wind picks up and throws strands of hair across your face. You try to cling to every minute you have left before the downpour, savoring your alone time and the peaceful quiet of the morning. It may even be worth getting a little wet, you think as you watch the new stable hand effortlessly sling a bay of hale over his shoulder, for the chance to savor every moment of your daily ritual before the weather inevitably forces you back inside.

You love the simple pleasures of fresh air and the soft rustle of the grass.

Jungkook glances at you from afar as he continues his work, and even at this range, you can see his muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt. It’s been roughly a month since your father hired him to tend the stable on your family’s estate, and while he hasn’t been unpleasant, giving you a friendly but silent nod each day as you prepare for your ride, he’s mostly kept his distance.

Today, however, is a different story entirely as a boom sounds out above your head. Your horse, a young stallion named Bam who is still being broken, startles at the noise and begins to nervously pace, tamping down the dirt under his hooves. The reins wrap tighter around your fingers as you attempt to take firmer control, but when a second crack emanates through the sky, the horse begins to buck in an attempt to throw you off.

The laws of physics cease to exist, time simultaneously speeding up and slowing down as you work to maintain your balance, clenching your muscles around the horse's back. A particularly violent whip of his head rips the reins free, and all you can do is try to flatten yourself to his back and hold on for dear life.

A pair of unfamiliar hands shoots into your peripheral vision, stroking firmly at the stallion's head and neck until he's easing back down, his erratic motions steadying until you can safely sit back up and face your rescuer.

"Are you alright?" His eyes scan your body for injury, moving from your face all the way down to your toes and back up.

You use the time to perform your own appraisal. The first thing you notice is that while he had immediately struck you as handsome when you first saw him around the property, he’s even more attractive up close: all soft eyes, perfect lips, and a tiny scar on his cheek that only adds to his allure. Add to that strong arms, broad shoulders, and a section of clearly-chiseled chest peeking out of his shirt, and you have to admit to yourself that you’re already halfway gone.

“Y/N?” His eyebrows dip as he frowns, clearly suspecting some kind of head injury as a result of your silence.

“You know my name.”

His expression turns quizzical at your bizarre answer. “I work for you. Of course I know your name.”

“You work for my father.”

“And you by extension.”

Your spine stiffens with rebellion. “I have no interest in bossing men around.”

“Why not?” He taps his knuckles on the saddle. “I see you come out to ride every morning. I could certainly tack up a horse for you in advance.”

“Because I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

His perfect lips curl at the edges. “I don’t doubt that.”

Your heart stutters a rhythm behind your ribcage, voice muted by the appearance of a dimple that dips into his left cheek. It’s not often you find yourself speechless, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it has you on the brink of a flight response; you begin to gently guide your horse back towards the stable, Jungkook walking at your side. To your surprise, he doesn’t stay quiet.

“So how long have you been riding?”

You peek down at him, but he’s not looking at you as he scratches the stallion under his muzzle. “Since I was five,” you say. “My father arranged for private instruction after my mother died. Thought I could use the distraction.”

You figured he already knew about your mother’s passing due to her absence from the estate, and his unfazed expression seems to confirm as much. Still, in a gentle voice he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t make her sick.” Another low rumble echoes through the sky, but Jungkook is prepared, already smoothing his hand over the Bam’s neck again. “What about you? How long have you worked with horses?”

He chuckles, and your belly warms. “Since before I could walk. I grew up on a ranch. Have probably spent more time around horses than people—not that I’m complaining.” A shrug pulls his shirt tight across his bulging shoulders. “Animals are better company, in my opinion.”

“You say while striking up conversation with a stranger.”

Pink blooms on his cheeks, but, to his credit, he recovers quickly. “Beautiful women are the exception.”

Heat rises to your own face, and you choose to ignore his comment as much as it has butterflies taking off behind your bellybutton. “I understand what you mean though. That’s why I’m out here every day.”

“You like the outdoors?”

“Very much,” you say. “The smell of the wind, the feeling of the sunshine on my skin and the earth under my shoes. I like to ride down to the sunflower fields and watch how they turn themselves towards the light. There’s a strange sense of kinship there.” You’re not sure what drives you to share all this with a man you’ve just met, but the way he nods along as if he agrees sets your heart at ease. “And the horses are, in fact, good company.”

He laughs again, tipping his head back to look at you. His dark hair brushes his forehead, jaw cutting so sharp a line that the temptation immediately hits to trace it with either your fingers or lips—you’re not sure which. You don’t even care if you’ll bleed.

It strikes you at that moment that you’re in a world of trouble.

The skies open up, the rain instantly pouring down in fat drops as you briskly rush your horse the rest of the way into the stable, Jungkook hot on your heels. You dismount once you’re inside and begin to untack the stallion, moving the reins up and over so you can remove the bridle first. Jungkook quickly steps in to help unhitch the saddle, and while you’d normally be inclined to make a fuss about how you can handle your own gear, you find that you much enjoy his quiet companionship. You like watching the way his gentle hands artfully work to simultaneously manage the equipment and relax the horse, giving the sense that he’s offering assistance only because he loves his work and not to patronize you as a woman (you’ve seen one too many men try to step in because they believe you to be incompetent).

Once Bam has been settled into his stall, you turn back to your companion and are met with big brown eyes already gazing at you, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Thank you for your help today,” you say. “I may be an experienced rider, but that also means I know enough to understand that you likely saved me from an injury earlier. So thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looks suddenly subdued, nervous now without the horse as a buffer. “And if I may be forward, I hope I made a good first impression. I wouldn’t want a beautiful woman like yourself to think I overstepped.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned beautiful women now. You speak with them a lot?”

“Not recently,” he says, dimple making another appearance. “Only one.” His voice drops a decibel, flirtation giving way to sincerity. “But truly, I do just like to help. I am sure you are perfectly capable, but just because we can do something doesn’t mean we always need to do it alone. If I can help ease a burden, then I would like to do so.”

Warmth floods through you like the rain currently running off the roof, and before you can even think about it any further, you find yourself nodding. “Very well.”

The smile he gives you brightens your day more than a hundred miles of sunflower fields ever could.

“I won’t keep you then.” He begins walking backwards towards the troughs where most of the horses have currently congregated. “But I do very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

You do, too. And when you show up to the stable the next morning (and the next, and the next), you already have a horse saddled up for you, a single sunflower resting on the seat.

Raindrops clatter in endless sheets off the metal roof of the stable, the ringing sound blending with the blasts of thunder and lightning overhead to mask your groans as Jungkook steadily thrusts into you.

It’s been three months since your flirtation culminated in you asking him to join you for a ride one morning.

Three months since he accompanied you down to the sunflower fields, pulled you into their depths, and kissed you like his life depended on it.

Three months since the rain became your closest friend, providing you the cover you need for your more intimate moments—such as this evening when you’d arrived at the stables to find him laying down a fresh layer of straw, the flex of his arm insisting that you needed him now.

The patter of the rain ensures his moans are for your ears and your ears alone.

“Do you think the horses mind?” he mumbles into the sensitive skin of your neck as he presses even deeper into you and steals your breath, his hands cupping your ass as he grinds his hips.

“I doubt it,” you gasp, digging your nails into his back. “They’ve kept secrets for me before.”

He laughs, and you relish in the feel of the vibration of his chest pressed to yours, as if the sound is being passed directly from his lungs to your heart. “Am I your secret then?”

“My favorite secret.”

He pulls back to look at you then with wide eyes. You don’t know when it happened, when he became the absolute center of your universe, but you also know that you’ve never been this happy in your life, never felt as whole as you do with him. So you stare at him right back, absorb every angle of his face as he brushes the hair away from your eyes and kisses you with an unusual delicacy in comparison to the rough pace of his hips.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it, but your blood heats as if the words are brand new.

He rises up above you then, leans back so he can bend your knees to your chest and pound into you in earnest, and you’d swear the roof has disappeared and you can see every star in the sky. Galaxies swirl, planets align, and it’s not long before you’re falling over the edge and he’s following you with a deep groan—a harmony to the thunder that surrounds you.

The two of you collapse into a heap, and he pulls you into his side, your cheek pressed to his still-heaving chest. It’s serene, the consonance of his breathing alongside the tapping of the rain and the occasional snuffle from the horses.

“So, the horses are keeping secrets for you, huh?” It’s a quiet question, vulnerable as he gazes at you with tender devotion. The same stars you saw minutes ago twirl in his eyes. “Can I be told one?”

“Are you a horse?”

A breath of a laugh: “Well you’ve certainly ridden me before.”

He has a point there.

You hum to yourself as you think before asking, “What is your dream?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

Calloused fingers trace patterns on your hip, a faraway look taking over his expression as he envisions some distant future. “To own my own farm,” he says. “I want to be my own boss. No more having to serve others.” A smile dances at the corners of his mouth. “And I’d be able to provide for my family—have a few kids and teach them the ropes, just like my dad did with me.”

Your brow dips in confusion. “You won’t inherit your father’s farm?”

“No, it’ll go to my older brother.” He squeezes your hip on a sigh. “If I want my own farm, it’s up to me to earn it.”

“You’ll do it,” you say, and you believe it with every fiber of your heart. “I know you will. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met.”

It’s not a lie by any stretch. You’ve spent plenty an afternoon telling your father that you’re going to read out on the veranda as it gives you an inconspicuous way to watch Jungkook work. He’s diligent, tireless, and you’ve often used the need to bring him water as an excuse to go down and spend time with him, seeing the sweat drip off his forehead as he single-handedly trains and cares for the horses.

His eyes become glassy, a gruff clearing of his throat as he pushes the tears back and grazes his lips over yours in a gentle kiss instead. “Thank you.” But before you can deepen the kiss and distract him, he shifts ever so slightly away, a glint in his eye. “Now you.”

You puff a sigh into his chest—bold of you to think you’d be able to sneak one past such an observant stare. Still, your secrets don’t usually come forth easily, buried deep within the cavity of your ribcage so even you don’t have to dwell on them too long.

Something about those doe eyes, though, render you ever vulnerable.

“Mine is similar to yours. I want to be my own boss.”

His brows pull together. “No one would expect a lady like you to work.”

“Not for a job, for my life,” you say, irritation forcing the words from your lips now. “I don’t want my father to dictate the path my life takes. I want to choose it, whatever it is, for myself. To be in charge of my own fate.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, teeth dipping into his lower lip as he considers your words. It’s something else you’ve grown to love about him, the way he stops and thinks before he reacts. So unlike your father who has always been nothing but big emotions and snap judgments.

“What would you choose?” is the question he eventually comes out with, and the pads of his fingers trace the jut of your hipbone like he’s memorizing it.

Well that’s another matter entirely. “I don’t know. Just not what my father wants for me.”

“And what would that be?”

“To marry one of the rich dandies in town,” you blurt, and his hands still. “That’s always been the expectation that’s been set since I was a girl—that my family would arrange a suitable match for me.” You’re practically spitting now, anger simmering through you. “Suitable, of course, meaning wealthy.”

“Is that so bad?” He asks it quietly, insecurity poorly masked in the way his voice trembles ever so slightly. “Some people would do almost anything to be in your position.”

You scoff. “There’s more to life than money.”

“Like what?”

“Fresh air, sunshine, the smell of the morning dew.” You tap his chest with everything you list off, as if they’re all housed within the framework of his torso. “The sound of the rain bouncing off windows, the bright yellow of sunflowers after their first bloom, watching a foal get its legs under it for the first time. Love.” You press your hand to his heart with that one, feeling the strong beat of it under your palm. “That’s the greatest thing.”

He snags your fingers, bringing them to his lips and kissing each one in succession before his hand slips into your hair so he can join his mouth with yours. The kiss is slow, thorough, his tongue trailing along your lower lip with determination as he drags you across his body until you’re straddling him.

“You’re right about that,” he murmurs before gripping your waist tightly so he can push back into you, the rain pouring on and on.

“No!”

Your father stands up so suddenly that his chair topples over with a crash, Jungkook sitting across from him wearing a look of even-keeled surprise; his eyes widen a fraction, but his overall posture remains resolved and confident.

“You dare have the audacity to even ask—“ He chokes on his words, spit flying from the edges of his lips, before pointing a finger towards where you stand stunned in the corner. “And you! You’ve been fraternizing with this riffraff? After everything I’ve taught you? Everything I did to raise you? You go and choose to associate with this—this—“ You’re worried his eyes might fall out of his head with the way they bulge as he grasps for a word, vein in his neck visibly thumping as he finds it. “Lowlife!”

“You’re wrong!” you scream as Jungkook continues to sit quietly at the dinner table. You’ll be damned if you’d just stand by and allow him to be spoken about in that way. “He’s an incredible man. He works hard, he’s respectful, and he loves me, Father. Not because of my money, but because I’m me.” Your steps echo off of the tall, looming arches of the ceiling as you move closer to Jungkook. “And I love him.”

“No, no, absolutely not. You’re only twenty years old. You don’t even know what love is,” your father barks before turning his beady eyes on Jungkook again. “You’ll never marry my daughter. You do not have my permission nor my blessing. That’s final.”

“Father—“

“You’re also fired,” he spits. “You can say goodbye and that’s the end of it. I want you off my property.” Then he’s storming out of the dining room, leaving you and Jungkook in heavy silence.

It’s only a handful of seconds before Jungkook is rising to his feet and striding from the room and out the front door, you hot on his heels. The steady drizzle soaks your clothes in a matter of moments, but you don’t even feel the way they cling to your skin, focused solely on the man in front of you.

“Jungkook!” you call, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn to face you until you manage to grab ahold of his hand and tug.

You thought he’d be distressed, angry, perhaps even crying. Instead, you’re met with intensity, a fierce determination simmering under the warm brown of his irises as his gaze bores into yours and almost has you faltering.

“Jungkook, I…” You wring your hands in front of you, watch the rain run in rivulets off the ends of his hair. “We can make it through this. I can convince him—“

“You can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “Then we’ll run away together! I’ll come with you and we’ll—“

“No, Y/N.” He stills the frantic movements of your hands with his own, drawing you towards the warmth of his body until you’re nearly chest-to-chest. “I have no savings right now, no way to support the two of us. We’d be out on the street in a matter of days.” He shakes his head, brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “No. You need to stay here for now. But this isn’t the end of us, I swear to you. I am going to work myself to the bone—until I have nothing left to give. Until I can buy my own farm, my own house, and give you everything you need.” Your foreheads press together, drops of water clinging to his lips and drawing your eye as he speaks. “I will provide for you someday, love you to the best of my ability. Just give me time.”

The heavens open above you, the relentless downpour backed by the cacophony of the skies as you finally move to kiss him. He tastes of rainwater and sweat, the fragrant aroma of sunflowers and nights spent tangled together in the stables. You savor the feel of his lips against yours, commit to memory the way his tongue begs for entrance, the way you grant it with a groan that feels like both a prayer and a curse.

With a final, resounding crack, he’s pulling away as you cling to the rough skin of his fingertips until the very last fraction of a second, arms stretched to their absolute limit. And when he turns his back on you, shirt plastered to his skin, you’d swear you can hear the horses raging in the stable, the rumble of hooves and agitated whinnies ringing in your ears long after he’s disappeared from view.

The first letter comes on a Wednesday roughly six week later, written on carefully folded parchment paper in small, neat handwriting. It surprises you, coming from a man who spends all day tending horses and tossing around hay bales. You receive the letter from the carrier quietly, rushing it up to your room and waiting to read until the concealment of night has fallen and you’re confident your father has gone to bed.

My Love,

I must admit that I am not quite sure how long it has been since I last saw you. Perhaps only a handful of weeks, surely, but every hour, minute, and second has felt like an eternity. I miss you, sweetheart. I miss the sound of your laugh. I miss the way you’d look each morning, strolling down from the house with a bounce in your step and the early sunshine bouncing off of your hair. Or perhaps you are just that radiant. I would believe it, you know, that light emits from your very smile, and I know I feel warmer whenever I am around you.

Look at me; look at the man you've turned me into. I've always considered myself a simple being, glad to indulge in the dirt and physical labors of the outdoors, and yet you have me waxing poetic like one of the men in those romance novels you would always pretend to read on the veranda. (Yes, my dear, I noticed. Your stares are not so subtle.) I am lovesick, homesick, and it’s all because of you. Because my life truly began the day I looked up and saw Bam struggling with you on his back and just knew I had to help you (tell that dear beast that I miss him by the way).

Now, I must live my life forlorn, but not without purpose. Please know that I am doing everything in my power to get back to you, and I will not rest until I am holding you in my arms again. I have secured a job at a ranch several towns over; it’s good work with decent pay, and every cent that does not go towards the barest necessities is being saved for us. One day, my love. One day we will have a house and a farm, and I will be able to love you openly, with no need for secrets or the cover of rain.

In the meantime, just know how terribly I miss you, and though we are separated by distance, I hold you in my heart each day. On my way each morning from my lodgings to the ranch, I pass by a field of sunflowers. I know it cannot possibly be true, but it feels like every golden face turns towards me as I go, and darling, I’d swear I see you in every one.

One day, my love.

Until then, always yours,

J.K.

It becomes something of a ritual: while you used to spend your days out on the veranda pretending to read so that you could watch Jungkook from afar, you now settle on the front porch with a book each afternoon in the hopes of catching the local mail carrier. Jungkook’s letters come slowly but consistently every couple of weeks, and each time a letter does arrive, you spend the night drafting your own by candlelight to send back to him.

He tells you about his new job, how he’s working on a larger farm now with several other laborers. The veterans are kind to him and teaching him a lot, he says, and it eases the ache in your heart a fraction to know that he seems happy where he is and well taken care of. You write back about your favorite books that you’ve been reading and how the horses have been (you insist that you can tell Bam misses Jungkook too). But both of your letters are saturated with sentiments of love and how dearly you miss each other, reminding yourselves that every day that passes is one day closer to you two being reunited, whenever that may be.

Your father, meanwhile, proceeds as if Jungkook never existed, hiring a new stable hand who begins his work mere days after Jungkook has left. This man is middle aged, gray already streaking through his hair, and you can’t help but feel it’s a deliberate choice on your father’s part lest you fall for another lowly laborer. And though you know it is not his fault, you barely speak with the man outside of a few curt pleasantries when you go for your ride each morning.

You persist in your morning rides out of habit, but you find that they don’t bring you the same kind of joy that they used to. The grass isn’t quite as green, the air is often stifling, and the sunflowers droop where they used to stand tall against the blue skies. On one day, roughly six months after Jungkook’s firing, you’re once again forced back inside early due to rain, the storm dampening your already dreary mood. It takes a turn for the worst when you hear your father call your name the moment you step in the door and plummets entirely off a cliff when you trudge into the dining room to see a man sitting at the table.

Seokjin is not entirely unfamiliar to you—your families run in the same circles after all—but he is ultimately little more than a stranger, the two of you having only exchanged a handful of polite words at dinner parties and the like. All that you truly know of him is that he is the heir to the wealthiest trading company on this side of the country and that his father is expected to transition the entire operation to him over the next few years.

Even so, Seokjin greets you with a sense of intimate familiarity, standing at your approach and brushing his lips against the back of your hand before you can stop him.

“A pleasure to see you, Y/N, as always.”

You know that social etiquette requires you to return the sentiment, but instead, you find yourself looking between Seokjin and your father, trying to figure out his purpose here.

“What is going on?”

Your father grimaces at your rudeness but opts to ignore it. “Seokjin has come here with a rather exciting opportunity, Y/N, if you would take a seat and listen to him.”

However, you remain standing, spine stiff and wary eyes shifting to the man in front of you with his finely tailored clothes and perfectly combed hair. He, for what it’s worth, doesn’t cower under your stony gaze, maintaining an air of utmost confidence as he states, “Y/N, I would like for you to marry me.”

“No.”

Your answer is immediate and blunt, coming so quickly that Seokjin barely reacts—only the tiniest dip of his mouth as if he doesn’t believe he heard you correctly. But your father leaps to his feet, face red with shock and frustration.

“Y/N, you sit down and listen to the man.”

“I don’t need to listen,” you snap. “My answer is no.”

Seokjin registers your words then, face morphing into a deep frown of disbelief as your father hurries to intervene, grabbing you around the arm to pull you out of the dining room and turning on you the moment you are out of earshot.

“Insolent girl! That man will soon be one of the most powerful in the country—nay, the world! Do you understand the opportunity he is offering you? The life he is offering? How dare you refuse him!”

“Whatever life he is offering is one I want no part of,” you argue, pulling your arm from his grasp to wrap them across your chest. “I have no interest in being married to a man like that. I want to be with someone who loves me.”

He goes deathly still for a moment, drawing connections in his head until you see the moment the realization hits him. “This is about that lousy stable boy, isn’t it?”

You say nothing, only hug yourself tighter and try to swallow down the sudden lump in your throat.

“That’s it, yes? You’re still holding onto some hope that he will come back for you and what? The two of you will go off and live in some hovel? What could he possibly offer you?” he snarls. “No, Y/N. That vermin is gone. You have a chance—a real chance—at a future here, and I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away for the idea of some lower class scum.”

As his words sink in, a chill passes through your body that’s quickly replaced with a white-hot anger, your hands dropping to your sides as you straighten your back in defiance.

“Whether Jungkook returns or not,” you assert, “please be assured that I will never, ever, marry one of your suitors. I will die before I become a mere pawn for your business deals.”

Your father stares at you incredulously, eyes practically bursting from his head. “Business deals? I am looking out for you. So that you can live the luxurious life a child of mine deserves.”

“The life I deserve is the one which I want,” you exclaim. “And these rich dullards are not it.”

Final word given, you spin on your heel in emphasis and march off to your room, leaving your father to clumsily patch things up in the dining hall with a humbled and deeply befuddled Seokjin.

The letters stop two years in.

A month passes, then two, then three before you begin to really worry. Another four gone in a blink before you start to consider that you may never actually hear from him again.

For a while, you continue to write to him, thinking that at the very least, if he’s moved to a new job, someone from his old ranch may forward them along if they know where he’s gone to. But after a year of silence transpires, the mail carrier shaking his head at you each day as you rush to meet him outside your house, true dread sets in.

Your address hasn’t changed, which means that he’s stopped writing to you for some reason. Is it possible that he’s moved on? Met another woman perhaps and chosen to settle down? Or…could it be something worse? Your mind hesitates to even go down this path, the terror seeping into your bones, but the thought creeps in late at night when you’re at your most vulnerable that something may have happened to him. Work accidents, illness—any number of dangerous things could have taken him from you without you even knowing. Then again, he sounded healthy in his final letter to you, no word at all of him being ill, and you’d like to think he would’ve arranged for someone to contact you if some tragedy had befallen him.

You conclude, then, that he must have given up. And really, after years of hoping for a shift, for some change in fortune for your futures, you cannot entirely blame him. If anything, you just wish you had seen the signs sooner, sensed some kind of shift in tone that would have prepared you for his sudden silence. His last letter, though, had been much of the same—more updates on his ranching job mixed in with poetic phrases about his love for you. You read it endlessly, poring over the words for some indication that his feelings for you had waned, sitting huddled in a hidden corner of the stables as rain pounds down against the tin roof. Instead, it just makes your heart ache to remind you of love found and lost, his final words haunting you as time continues to drag on to your dismay.

As the months tick by, you keep your promise to your father, steadfastly refusing each suitor that comes to call for you: Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, and even Min Yoongi, who shows up in your dining room every evening for a fortnight before finally accepting your refusal. Meanwhile, you move through your days as if by design, going through the motions without feeling like you’re actually alive. Food is tasteless, your books void of thought, and the skies have certainly lost their color. You find that you actually prefer rainy days now, often taking walks through the drizzle and allowing the droplets of water to slide over your skin and caress you as he once did. Sometimes, it almost makes you feel as if he’s there beside you—memories of thunder and slick kisses enveloping your thoughts and soaking you from the inside out.

No fewer than seven years pass this way, with you haunting the premises of your home while your father begins to complain about you becoming a leech and a burden. You begin to question it yourself, wondering if it may be too much to waste away like this, when, three days after your twenty-seventh birthday, a discovery has you running from your father’s house and never looking back.

It’s another dreary, rainy day, and you, wanting to soak in the full effect of the emblematic weather as it pertains to your mood, have once again parked yourself on the front porch with a book. Your father passed you on his way out earlier, casting a scathing look that you didn’t even bother to grant any attention—you’ve long grown accustomed to his contempt and futile glares.

A little past midday, you glance up at the sound of a person approaching, their footsteps ricocheting off the front steps. Park Jimin comes to a halt under the porch’s cover, gazing at you curiously as if wondering why you are outside in this weather at all. However, if he finds your behavior strange, he doesn’t say anything, a choice which comes of no surprise to you. One of your father’s youngest business partners, you’ve always liked Jimin during the times that you’ve interacted with him. He’s quiet, polite, and has never made an attempt at courting you, always respecting the boundaries that many other young men have tried to cross over the years.

That being said, you’re inclined to at least offer him a greeting, acknowledging his presence with a mannered, “Hello, Mr. Park.”

“Good day,” he responds with a small bow in your direction. “Is your father at home?”

“No, he had to attend a business meeting with Mr. Kim this morning.” You frown as his face falls, a touch of panic widening his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

A delicate finger rises to rub at his temple. “Ah, I’m supposed to be finalizing a contract with Hybe Trading Company later this afternoon,” he says. “Your father told me to come pick up the documents beforehand.”

“He may be back soon,” you guess. Your father didn’t give an indication of exactly when he would return, but you do know his meeting with Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to last all day.

“I may not be able to take that risk.” He chews at his lip, thinking. “Is it possible that he left the contracts for me somewhere? Might you be able to check?”

Your jaw drops a fraction at his request—you could count on one hand the number of times that you’ve been in your father’s office. “I don’t think—“

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin begs. “We can’t afford to lose this partnership.”

The desperation in his expression has you acquiescing, and so you lead him inside and tell him to wait in the entryway as you head to your father’s office on the second floor.

The room is arguably the grandest in the house, with magnificent windows that give a full view of the estate’s grounds and tall bookshelves packed with your father’s collection of texts. The finest rugs protect the hardwood under your feet, and at the center of the room sits a monstrous yet beautiful mahogany desk with a plush chair at its back.

You move to the desk first, skimming the documents scattered on top for something that has the trading company’s name on it. But all you see are invoices, shipping records, and maps of different trading routes marked with your father’s notes, and lightly shuffling through the papers comes up fruitless as well.

The first desk drawer you open contains a series of highly-organized ledgers, so you quickly move on to the second, which has the same. The third drawer reveals a reserve of desk and writing supplies, while the fourth, finally, contains a mess of paper.

You rummage through the clutter, still not finding anything that seems to be the contract Jimin is looking for, and are about to give up when a stack of letters buried at the back of the compartment has you freezing, the small, neat handwriting chilling you to the bone.

Pulling the stack out with shaking hands, you quickly realize that there are a few dozen, all postmarked no more than two months apart between each one. Collapsing backwards into the desk chair, you read frantically, quickly realizing just how wrong you were about Jungkook giving up on you:

My Dearest, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, but I pray your letters were simply lost in transit…

I’m incredibly pleased to let you know that I’ve received a promotion. The owner of the farm, Mr. Lee, has taken a liking to me and has shifted me to a more considerable role with additional pay. I’m saving every bit I can…

My Love, I miss you deeply. And while your silence pains me to no end, I hope it is a mere misunderstanding. If you do not wish to hear from me ever again, only say the word and I will stop writing to you and remove myself from your life entirely, albeit with a heavy heart…

I still have some ways to go, but my savings are increasing exponentially, and I am learning more than ever. Mr. Lee has been teaching me about the business side of things and helping me make connections. What a wonder to have a boss who fully supports your aspirations! He insists he will be able to help me in my endeavors, and call me naive, but I believe it to be true. Rest assured, love, that I am steadfastly working hard for you, for us, and for our future…

My Darling Y/N, my heart aches to not read your words and hear your thoughts. But since you have not yet rejected me outright, I can only assume that your silence is involuntary or that it comes with deep hesitation. Whatever the reason, please know that I love you, I miss you, and I am not giving up on us unless you tell me so…

And finally, the shortest letter dated almost year back:

Y/N,

I don’t have the words to describe my feelings so I will keep it brief: I did it. If this letter finds its way to you and you wish to find me, I eagerly await you at our home…

The location is scribbled in a tangle of text, his usually neat writing askew as if he was shaking when he wrote it, and the words land with the force of a thousand bricks in your chest—the weight of seven years apart, the agony of your separation, finally culminating in this revelation.

The door to the office bangs open, and you look up, heart already racing with the discovery of the letters, to see your father looming in the doorway, face painted with rage.

“What in the hell are you doing in my private office?!”

You’re on your feet in an instant, storming across the room and shaking the final letter in his face. “What is this?!”

He pales a fraction as he registers what you’re holding before stepping further into the room and slamming the door shut. “I should have burned them,” he sneers. “I did what I did to protect you.”

“From what?” You wave your arms wildly, anger and adrenaline winding their way through your limbs. “From happiness? From a man who has spent years working hard to be able to provide for me?”

“I have worked hard to provide for you! And I will not see my legacy be thrown aside for some silly crush!”

Steeling yourself, you pull in a steadying breath for courage. “Then you won’t.”

“And what does that mean?” your father scoffs, trying to look dismissive and intimidating, yet seeming smaller than you’ve ever seen him.

“You won’t see any of it. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

Time stops for a moment, your declaration holding the air in the room hostage as your father fully absorbs your words.

“You ungrateful idiot girl!” your father suddenly exclaims. “After everything I’ve done for you? Fine then! Go live with the dogs, with the filth and slime you apparently love so dearly. I have had it with your thanklessness and impertinence and will be relieved to have you from my sight.” He steps into your personal space, pointing a finger directly at your face so close that you can feel the heat of his ire radiating off of his hand. “But know this: the second you step out of these doors, you will never be welcomed back. Never.”

You waste only two seconds longer, locked in a stubborn stare-down with your father before you rip your gaze away and tear from the room with Jungkook’s letters still in hand. Rushing to your room, you gather his other letters from your desk and stuff them into a bag along with the modest sum of money you had accumulated in case you ever needed to run.

And then you’re a bird in flight, sweeping down the stairs and out the door with nothing but a simple, “Good day, Mr. Park,” as you pass an absolutely bewildered Jimin in the front hall.

The rain is cold and heavy as it soaks through your clothes and hair almost immediately, but you barely feel it—the freedom in your heart and the scribbled location in your bag more than enough to keep you warm as you charge towards home.

The house is beautiful.

Modest, compared to the mansion you grew up in, sure. But arguably more beautiful—with a compact two stories, white wood, and neatly painted green shutters. There’s a wrap-around porch overlooking the acres upon acres of farmland, and even through the rain falling in sheets and blurring your vision, you spy two rocking chairs sitting side-by-side under the awning.

It’s been a long two weeks of journeying to get to this spot, relying on the kindness of strangers to help you navigate to the location Jungkook had written down. Now, standing at the end of the dirt path leading up to what is presumably your new home, you think that you would do it all again in a heartbeat. The past two weeks, the past seven years, all worth it to experience the hope currently blooming in your chest like the sunflowers you spent so much time admiring in the past.

You’re trudging up the path, the dirt and mud smearing along your shoes, when a darkened figure steps out from the fields to your right, hand raised in greeting.

“Good afternoon, miss. Are you lost? I—” He grinds to a halt like he’s walked straight into a brick wall, eyes wide and lips parted as he absorbs the sight of you soaked and disheveled on his property.

“Y/N?” he says it like a prayer, like he believes you’re some kind of hallucination—a phantom come to haunt him through the haze of rainy memories.

You stare at each other through the downpour, and you find yourself studying him, observing the changes that have taken place in the time you’ve been apart. He’s taller and broader than you remember, shoulders stretching wide and drawing your gaze down towards biceps that protrude below his drenched shirt. The lines of his face have sharpened with age—losing some of the youthful roundness that had endeared him to you so quickly—but he’s still starry-eyed as ever, the charming young man from your memories undoubtedly gazing back at you.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, and the spell is suddenly broken. You surge towards each other, meeting in the middle with a flash of lightning. Your arms go around his shoulders, and Jungkook pulls you into him so desperately and with so much force that he lifts you right off your feet, your mouths coming together with a heated urgency.

He’s everything you’ve dreamed of, every desperate memory you’ve been clinging to come back to life. And with every touch, every pass of his hands over your body, you feel yourself rapidly coming back to life too—joy making its way into your lungs and through your bloodstream for the first time since you were twenty years old and kissing this man in your family’s stables.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips when you finally part. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“You have no idea–”

“I do. Jungkook, I do.”

“You stopped writing—”

“My father,” you rush to say. “He intercepted the letters. I thought you stopped writing. Thought you gave up—”

“Oh, my love, never.” His hands rise to cradle your face. “I never stopped thinking of you. Never stopped dreaming of this.” He kisses you again, slowly this time, savoring every movement of his lips against yours.

You shudder against his chest, the thrill of your reunion rattling your nerves just as a cool wind blows through, and Jungkook pulls back with worry.

“You must be freezing,” he murmurs sweetly. “Come. Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

With an arm wrapped around your waist, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hand on you, he guides you the rest of the way to the house, up the front porch steps, and through the front door.

“Welcome home,” Jungkook says.

You’re met first with the smell of pine and cinnamon and an impossibly comforting warmth. The first floor is comprised of a wide-open space, with a small kitchen and dining room to your left and a sitting room to your right that has tall windows and a fireplace that is currently roaring. You move around the room slowly, taking it all in, and when you notice the vase of bright sunflowers sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, you just about melt to the floor.

“I know it’s smaller than you’re used to,” he sheepishly mumbles from the doorway. “But we can expand in the future—”

“It’s perfect, Jungkook.” And it really is, every panel and floorboard evidence of how hard he’s worked, how fiercely your love has endured. “It’s absolutely perfect. I love every bit of it.”

He brightens at that, smile stretching wide. “I’m glad.”

“How did you find it?”

“Well, I bought the property after finally saving enough money. Mr. Lee helped me with the buying process.” He shrugs. “And then I built this.”

You freeze, absolutely stunned. “You what?”

“I built it,” he says simply. “I had some help, of course. But the design is all mine.”

“I…you…” It makes your thoughts spin—the idea that he did all of this. He built a house for you.

“Here, look.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, gesturing at a set of empty shelves against the back wall. “For your books.”

You laugh incredulously, fully overwhelmed at this point. “I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Then we’ll start you a new collection,” he says softly, drawing you towards him.

You reach up to trace his jaw, his brow, his cheekbones—memorizing every line of this beautiful man who dared to make your dreams a reality. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe you. The things you’ve done.”

“All for you, my love.”

Your heart thumps a steady rhythm in your throat, love and the relief of finally—finally—having him in front of you overpowering your senses until all that exists is you and him; the strain of your former life feels worlds away.

Hands find his chest in a slow migration downwards as the chill of the rain gives way to the heat of the fireplace, and it’s not long before his large hands are wrapping around your hips, a darkness in his irises that wasn’t there a second ago.

“There’s an upstairs, too, I’m assuming?” you whisper, fingers teasing a button on his shirt.

“There is.” He swallows, and you watch the bob of his Adam’s apple like a lure. “Would you like to see it?”

You lean in, skimming your mouth below his without fully joining your lips. “Please.”

Tangling your fingers in his, he practically runs upstairs with you trailing in his wake.

Finally, you think, as he pulls your clothes from your body, climbs over you on the bed, and presses into you with such tender deliberation that you think you’ll combust.

Finally, as you spend the rest of the night wrapped up together, endlessly whispering I love yous back and forth.

Finally, as you wake up in his arms the next day, his face the first thing you see.

Finally, as he pulls out a small box at breakfast, the dainty diamond ring easily the most precious piece of jewelry you’ve ever possessed.

Finally, as he takes you out on the farm and shows you the small field of sunflowers he planted just for you.

Finally, you think, as you sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch and watch him work from afar. I’m home.

Years Later…

“Mama! Mama look!”

You glance up from your book to where Jungkook and Haneul are currently journeying in the yard. It’s a bright sunny day—the wide expanse of blue sky above unmarred by even a single cloud. Sunshine beams down onto your son’s smiling face where he sits on the back of one of the horses, a too-big cowboy hat on his head and his father at his side for support.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart!” you call. “Just be sure to listen to Papa!”

Jungkook flashes you a grin, the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He’s been talking about teaching Haneul to ride since the day he was born, so you know this means a great deal to him, especially seeing your son’s own energy and enthusiasm. Haneul has always liked the “horsies,” toddling happily around the stables ever since he could walk.

Then again, given who his parents are, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Jungkook and Haneul finish their loop around the yard, and you hear your husband shower the boy with praise as he lifts him off of the horse’s back.

“Again, again!” Haneul cheers, bouncing in place and causing Jungkook to laugh.

“We will! Just let me check on your mother first.”

He moves comfortably, leisurely as he climbs the porch steps and comes to a rest in front of where you sit. Looming over you, he leans in until he can press a gentle kiss to your lips, reverent in his motions.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His fingers brush lightly over your belly and its new curve.

“I’m alright,” you say, guiding his hand until his palm is resting flat. “This one is kicking up a storm though.”

As if on cue, you feel a tiny jolt—Jungkook giving a breathless chuckle as he feels the jab himself.

“Go easy on your mother,” he says in the direction of your stomach, rubbing a soft circle into your flesh. “No storms. Clear skies and sunshine.” Then his eyes are back on your face. “Speaking of, I have something for you.”

He reaches behind his back and produces a single sunflower, tucking it behind your ear before giving you one more kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” More than the day you met him. More than the day he left. And more than the day you finally made your way here.

“Now I should get back to Haneul before he starts yelling for me.”

You laugh out the brightest sound that’s ever come from your lungs. “Go.”

A warm breeze ripples through the trees, the sound of your son’s giggles and Jungkook’s cheerful exclamations finding their way back to where you sit.

What a beautiful day, you think, setting down your book and getting up to join your family in the golden sunshine.

a/n: thanks for reading! pls don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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aphrodites-fav-daughter · 4 months

Text

Going to Victoria’s Secret with Percy Jackson…<3

“stay here” you said to your boyfriend. You stood in front of a child play area.

He shook his head wrapping his arms around you.

“Please Perce” you begged your boyfriend. You really didn’t want him with you when you enter Victoria’s Secret. You were fine with any other place, just not here…

“No…” he pouted squeezing his arms around your body

“please…” you asked with puppy eyes, a trick you had mastered.

Fine," he grumbled and let go of you. "Do you have everything you need in case of a monster attack?"

Yes, mother," you sighed at his protectiveness, "I have everything."

"Your dagger?" He questioned. " Your cellphone? What about-"

"Percy!" You interrupted him. "I'll be fine. We don't even have cellphones. You're only a couple of feet away from the entrance," you reminded him.

Ever since the war with Gaea, he's become way more overprotective in thoughts of losing you.

You thought it's adorable, but he could sometimes cross the line.

"You're right," Percy shook his head to himself. "You're a big girl."

You kissed his cheek, and then walked into Victoria Secret. You threw a quick look over your shoulder to make sure Percy isn't following.

He wasn't were you last saw him. He was with a little girl, helping her up a pair of steps that lead to the slide.

Your heart melted at the sight, he looked so cute with children. Your mind even wandered to the thought of Percy and you having kids one day, that little girl being your daughter.

You smiled to yourself, heading to the panties section. You chose a few pairs of panties, and then headed to the bras section.

You wanted to make this quick, you didn't want to make Percy wait long. You already knew what you were looking for.

"Uh, sir," you heard a female employee near you speak behind a rack of bras. "We need to ask you to leave. We're having complaints from other customers."

"I can't," you heard, this voice being much deeper and more masculine. "I'm here with my girlfriend."

"I'm sorry, sir, but until you have proof, we need to ask you to leave."

The people around you began to mutter, some pointing.

You almost laughed at the guy behind the rack of bras, thinking what type of pervert would come in here and claim he had a girlfriend when he clearly didn't. 15

Behind the rack, the figure rose to his feet, beet red.

You continued to think what a lunatic the guy is for spying on girls.

That was until the pervert turned out to be your boyfriend.

Percy sent you an bashful look. 41

You sighed. "Ma'am, he's… he's with me," you spoke, your face flushing red.

The employee nodded and left to fix the underwear close by, but she kept an eye on the two of you.

Percy wouldn't meet your eye.

"I told you to stay and wait," you scolded him.

"But I wanted to be with you, (y/n)."

You tried to muster some anger, but you couldn't. He only wanted to spend time and be with you. You began to think how sweet it was. You kissed your boyfriend, catching him by surprise.

You pulled away, looking at the selection of bras to choose.

Percy chose one, picked it up, and held it to his chest. "How about this one, (y/n)?" He asked, the bra he chose being blue with jewels decorating it - almost like seashells. "I would look hotter in this than you," he smirked. He slid his arms through the loops, looking down.

The employee near by looked ready to call security to escort both of you out.

"Percy!" You attempted to scold, but ended up in laughter.

He took off the bra and placed it back. Only this time, he chose an even larger sized bra. "This one fits much better," he felt himself as if he had boobs. "Yup, much better," he said as he smiled innocently at you.

There's nothing innocent in that smile.

The employee spoke to the mall security guard from a far distance, throwing glances in your direction.

"Uh… Perce," you began to place down the panties and bras you selected. "Put that back, we're leaving."

"Why?" He looked at you confused. "Aren't you buying these?"

"I was but not anymore," you said as he took off the bra. He followed your gaze and then understood what you meant.

"Come on." You laced your hand with his and started to take off running leaving behind your cute pantries you sadly didn’t buy.

“Hey!!” You heard from behind you, Percy took off in a sprint dragging you along to the bathroom and locking yourselves in a stall.

“Fuck. I love you…” Percy exclaims before kissing you, your mouths moving in perfect alignment. You guys were soulmates… your hands reached up each other’s shirt’s ,he pushed you against the wall before taking his hands out of your shirt and gripping your ass causing you to moan lightly, gifting him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. “Percy…” you grumbled in between kisses. “Yeah?” He replied in a haze.

“we forgot Annabeth at Cotton on Kids…”

#Pjo x reader #percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo x you

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improbable-outset · 3 months

Text

📄 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, Unprotected sex, SMUT, kissing, vaginal fingering, brief cum eating, tit sucking, giving Miguel a hand job while he explains the male anatomy 🫡 brief praises, body worship, eventual breeding kink, mentions of contraceptive pills, couple role play(?)

𝐀/𝐍: Is it me or has tumblr updated and it’s harder to use now?? Like I can’t move images like I used to?! Anyways this is inspired by c.ai again as well as one of my old mutuals fic (Salty if you see this, hey bestie!! That Doc fic examining player still lives rent free in my head!) Anyways, enjoy!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In an effort to make amends for neglecting Miguel, you dedicate a night to spend quality time together. However, Miguel has other ideas to make the evening unforgettable— using science.

Your joints clicked as you stood up from your work chair. You’ve finally finished your project that you’ve been putting your blood, sweat and tears into and sacrificed your sleeping schedule to complete.

Your body felt stiff and heavy from sitting in one place for so long. The apartment was quiet as expected to be at this late hour, amplifying the creaks of your joints.

You switched off the monitor before you left your office and plodded upstairs to the bedroom with heavy steps and slouching shoulders.

You found Miguel in the bedroom, engrossed in tinkering with his watch with only his sweatpants on and no shirt.

His eyes crinkled up as he sensed your presence. “There she is…”

You didn’t feel like you deserved his acknowledgment, let alone his affection, especially the way you’ve neglected him for your work the past few days.

He didn’t expect you to say anything back but he felt the weight of your solemn expression, “¿Estás bien?

You shake your head mutely in response, guilt washing over you. He stepped closer, closing the distance with a gentle stride. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Your mouth was dry from the lack of fluids you’ve been avoiding, making your voice slightly hoarse “I’m sorry, I’ve been pushing you away.”

He lowered himself and held your chin with his thumb to tilt your head up so you would look at him. The gesture made your heart ache.

“Is that why you’re upset? You know I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always come back to you mi alma,” he murmured.

Even if he did lower himself to be level with you, he still felt bigger. It made you feel protected, the way he towered over you with his large frame.

The holographic lamp illuminated the room, casting a gentle glow. With its subtle lighting you could see the crimson gleam from Miguel’s eyes, which melted the weight of your stress from the past few days and the newfound guilt.

You were glad the main light wasn’t on to flood the room with its sickening bright glow that would scream at you — your eyes needed a rest from the screen and the absence of flood lights gave that comfort you needed.

He leaned in to kiss you and you tiptoed to deepen the kiss. It felt refreshing, feeling his lips again— almost like an anchor that kept you grounded.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while he wrapped his around your waist. His tongue teased your lips before slipping in, tasting you and you let him take his fill of you before pulling away.

“Miguel…” you breathed, hesitant to break the peace in the room.

“How about we shift our focus on a different kind of study.” He suggested. There was a lighthearted undertone in his sentence that you tried to articulate.

You cocked your brow inquisitively until you remembered Miguel’s background in the science field. “Study? As in science?”

“Science is such a broad term. Let’s start with biology and anatomy,”

You heart stuttered in both anticipation and excitement along with your core already throbbing. You could already sense where this was going as soon as you heard anatomy. The atmosphere felt charged guided by the intimate spirit of Miguel’s proposal.

He lifted you up before gently placing you on the bed.

Being a skilled geneticist, Miguel seized every opportunity to share random biology facts, particularly in the most unexpected moments with you.

It was one of the many things you found attractive about him, especially seeing him being so engrossed in explaining things to you in a way you would understand. It made the complexities of biology feel like an intimate and shared journey.

But you’ve never seen him act like this before sex. Perhaps he was trying something new to keep the spark alive.

“How about we remove your clothes.” His hands hiked up beneath your shirt as he spoke.

“Is this part of the biology teaching?” You asked.

“Let’s just say it’s part of the more practical application.” He removed your shirt and your pants, leaving you in your panties and bra. “And you’re the specimen.”

You were amused with where this was going, seeing Miguel’s professional act starting to surface. A scientist eager to teach (and please).

You felt him run his hand over your neck. Spots of goosebumps rose on your skin from the cool air in the room.

“Your skin is so soft…” He murmured into your sensitive skin, making you shiver.

Another advantage of being married to a geneticist was that Miguel knew all the sensitive areas on the body and what made you tick. Even before you did anything together, he was aware of all the areas that could arouse a woman.

His lips grazed over your collarbone, trailing down to where it meets the shoulders.

“The collarbone is connected to your shoulders by the supraclavicular ligament,” he explained softly. He kissed the soft skin around the area.

“Suprac—clavic—ular ligament—” Each syllable accelerated in pitch as you tried to repeat after him.

His hand reached behind your back to unclip your bra before slipping them off, one strap at a time.

Your breasts were now fully exposed and he reached over and cupped one with his large hands.

“The breasts are a collection of organs that play an important role in the reproduction of human females, amor. They are key to producing milk,” He kissed along your chest until he reached the valley between the two breasts.

“They also serve to attract a sexual partner…which seems to be working on us.”

You didn’t expect him to lick the skin where his lips hovered over between your breasts. You shuddered in shock until he pulled away to look up at you again.

“They’re also erogenous zones, making them more sensitive to simulations. Would you like me to demonstrate?” You nodded in response.

You managed to catch the corner of his lips curve up in amusement, even if he made a concerted effort to conceal how turned on he was right now.

He wore the familiar analytical veneer he always carried when he was working in the lab, except this time you could see his excitement babbling beneath the surface.

He dipped his head until his mouth latched onto one of your breasts. Despite knowing this was going to happen, you couldn’t help the surprise whimper that slipped from your mouth.

His tongue lapped over your hardened nipple while his other hand still fondled with your other breast. You groaned out from his touches, running one of your hands over the locks of his hair.

It was flattering, seeing Miguel soaking in everything from you, even when you felt like you had little to offer. Miguel seemed to never get enough of you and to this day, your heart still leaped out of you chest with him around.

He released your nipples and you were met with hooded crimson eyes, dazed and awestrucked. You couldn’t stop your shoulders from bunching together in shyness at him.

He moneuvered you so you were laying your back on the bed. Two broad arms rested besides you on the bed with his abs displayed over you.

“Between the legs are the female reproductive system, we’ll be focusing on the labia minora and the labia majora for this lesson,”

He pulled your panties down, revealing your wetness between your thighs.

A sudden rush of cold air brushed against your folds, making you more wet and exposed. His hand reached over, extending out of your line of sight until his fingers were lightly stroking around the delicate flesh.

“The labia minora is a set of two fleshy folds that form around the inner portion of the labia majora. They are positioned around the vaginal opening to protect the urethra and…”

You gasped when you felt one of his fingers slip into your slick cunt before slowly moving in and out of you.

“…and the vagina.”

His sentence was finished off with the soft sounds of your slick from his fingers along with your breathy moans. Your walls fluttered around his finger while he slipped in another digit in, prompting you to grip onto the sheets tightly.

He moved to your ear and spoke in a lowered tone, his breath brushing against your earlobe. “Do you remember which hormones are released when a person is aroused?”

He rubbed his thumb over your swollen clit while watching you fall apart from his touches. You couldn’t fully process the question in your head, let alone form a coherent response.

“God— Miguel-!” You babbled out.

“Come on amor, I know you know the answer,” he coaxed, having the audacity to continue teasing your cunt with his fingers.

He was going to keep teasing until he got an answer from you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he refused to let you come too until you responded to him with the right answer.

“O-oxytocin and…hm-m…serotonin?” Your words came staggered and breathless. You were fighting the urge to rock your hips further to ride on his finger but you knew better not to push your luck. This was for science after all.

“Such a smart wife. Are you feeling it, amor? The euphoric feeling and the release of the hormones throughout your body?” Miguel was still near your ear as he asked.

You were so drawn into bliss, you almost forgot about the whole biology lesson and the practical demonstration.

You could tell that watching how responsive you were to his touches excited him, especially if it included him talking about what he knew best.

He withdrew his his hands away and curved his finger so none of your slick slipped away. He spread his fingers apart, watching the string of your fluids clinging onto the pads of his fingers.

You felt your face heat up in astonishment, you’ve never seen yourself leak that much before.

You weren’t surprised to see him stick his fingers in his mouth to clean himself up. He ate you out before so this was nothing new to him.

Once he was satisfied, he manoeuvred himself to remove his pants along with his boxers, freeing his aching cock. Despite the low lighting, you could still see it throbbing and the veins lining on the skin.

You sat up enough so you could reach to his cock. You wrapped your hand around his length, earning a low groan from him. “Since we covered the female, do you wanna walk me through the male anatomy now?”

You swiped your thumb over the tip where his pre-cum was leaking from. You were purposefully tormenting him now.

“You’re unbelievable,” he grunted, but you could clearly see he couldn’t stop the grin tugging on his lips.

“Come on Mig, do it for biology,”

You started stroking his length, making sure you touched every part of his skin from the base to the tip.

His breathing became shallow with low whimpers stringing out but he tried to compose himself before he spoke.

“The penis and the testicles both….have a lot of blood flow to them but— hmm.. the main purpose of the testicles is to produce testosterone and—” He couldn’t help the low moan that came out when he felt you increase your pace, but he was still determined to finish.

“Go on…” you prodded.

“…produce testosterone and sperm cells…dios— the penis….the penis is the biggest part of the male anatomy. It allows urination, ejaculation or urine and semen, shit! It also helps the male with erection-!” He finished off the last sentence in one shaky breath. Your hand came to a halt around his tip.

“Thanks for the clarification…” You released his dick swiftly, satisfied by his explanation.

After catching his breath and recomposing himself, Miguel positioned himself so his dick was near your opening. His tip nuzzled against your folds with you silky walls clenching desperately onto nothingness.

You were ready for him, even your clit was throbbing in anticipation, and there was nothing you wanted more than to have him inside you right now.

“Now that we’ve completed the preliminary, I think we should come to the conclusion,” he said.

You couldn’t help the breathy giggles from your lips. He was really immersing himself in the role, playing the part of a tutor with dedication and charm.

He pushed himself inside of you. You haven’t done anything in a while so you had to allow yourself to readjust to his length again.

You fleshy walls struggled to open up but eventually you did accomodate to his size, feeling the familiarity of him.

Once he was all the way in, he came to a halt. Feeling yourself stretch out for him was dizzying. But sudden realisation hit you.

“Miguel, I might be on my fertility window…” you interjected, a tinge of nervousness in your voice.

While you and Miguel have discussed growing a family together in the past, the timing never felt right, and you weren’t ready for the responsibility of motherhood yet.

You’ve been taking birth control pills for your peace of mind. However, with the onset of your work project, you’ve stopped taking the pills and your body was still adjusting to the withdrawal— including your accelerated libido.

Miguel’s face didn’t falter but you could practically see the gears turning in his head from your statement. Everything felt more apparent, especially now with his dick buried inside of you.

“What are you trying to tell me, amor?” You could feel his cock twitching in anticipation inside of you and touching your cervix, almost making you lose your bearing.

“I’m off the pills Miguel. So there’s a chance that I might get knocked up after this…but it is part of biology, right?”

You ran your hands over his broad chest and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch before resting his forehead on yours.

“You wanna be a mami?” He asked, assuring full clarity and consent from you.

Miguel, a devoted lover, would do anything to make you happy and would give you a family if that’s what you wished for. You nodded and that’s when you knew, he was ready for fatherhood too.

Your hands now wrapped around his naps, fingers lacing together. His gaze dropping to where you bodies joined.

He dragged himself out, feeling the suction from your walls, before snapping his hips back in again. The friction against your walls forced a whine out of you.

He began rolling his hips repeatedly against you in a steady rhythm, each slap ending in a jolt of overwhelming ecstasy. Your fingers were losing their grip around his neck and your hands slipped, with your nails now pressing onto his back.

Your mind and senses started to evaporate and all you could think of right now was chasing your high and Miguel filling you up with his cum, staining you and finally getting you pregnant.

You wanted to feel him for weeks, feel how much he stretched you and filled you. Your nails were digging further into his back as he thrusted deeper into you, hitting your cervix with each snap of his hips.

“Gimme a baby, Mig.” You moaned out, the mere throughly of him breeding you drove you insane. You needed his fill, you needed him to knock you up.

“Sí amor, I’ll give you as many babies as you want,”

His thrusts became more sporadic and you sensed he was lost in a haze too. A few strands of his hair stuck to the moisture that developed on his forehead. You were sinking further into the sheets, taking in everything he was giving you.

The room filled with the bed creaking in protest and the slap of his hips into yours. Soon, his pace became sloppy and uneven.

You watched the familiar trence of your husband’s climax unfold. You always felt a sense of pride knowing that only you could see him so scattered outside the composed and stoic demeanor that everyone else was used to.

His brows furrowed in full concentration and his words came out messy and slurred along with strings of your name.

He finished off with his cum pulsating inside of you in thick loads. He didn’t pull his his hips back until both balls were drenched into you. You felt your walls clenched from the withdrawal as he pulled out.

Immediately, Miguel grabbed one of the pillows and positioned it beneath you, elevating your rear.

“Keep it in there,” he instructed. He didn’t want any of his cum to go to waste and leak out.

He starts to massage your thighs to sooth any aches you were feeling. You mind drifted back to the birth control pill that you still kept in the cabinet. There was still another box left, yet you knew that you weren’t planning to take them anymore.

You mentally reminded yourself to dispose them in the morning. You looked up at Miguel again, who was still massaging your thighs.

You sighed. “You know there’s a chance I might not get pregnant the first time…”

In that moment, vulnerability wrapped around your words which connected the both of you in shared acknowledgment.

You let your mind wandered about finally getting pregnant, with Miguel praising you and kissing your swollen belly. You imagined all the appointments you’d have to attend to, leading up to the day of your baby’s arrival.

“So, does that mean we’ll be having more biology classes?” Miguel stopped massaging and spread you legs again to display your slick core.

“I think so…how about another round?”

He leaned into kiss your forehead. “I’m down if you are.”

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Part 2

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devotion · 10 months

Text

there’s no distance (between you and me); miguel o’hara

☾ pairing: husband!miguel o’hara x fem!spider-woman!reader

☾ synopsis: owing to his heightened senses, miguel finds out that you’re on your period before you do. and with that, he’s more than willing to tend for your needs, whatever they may be. | wc: 2.1k+.

☾ type: fluffy oneshot

☾ warnings: mentions of period and blood (not graphic), nicknames, baby talk, a suggestive ending.

☾ notes: first miguel fic!!! AHH, took me 2 weeks to write after almost 7 months of not writing at all, but i made it! regarding the spanish in this fic, i kept it simple as possible. i did do spanish for 7 years, and have an ear for it (and got an A), but if any spanish speakers out there see anything that needs correcting, feel free to do so <3 also... fluffy requests pls?

the feeling gnaws at your insides, growing as minutes tick by, but also fading every once in a while.

you notice it’s morning by the sunlight peeking through your sleep mask, but way past sunrise as the birds’ chirping and warbling seem to have been replaced wholly by the bustle of nueva york. it’s ten am, probably, and you’re not planning to move an inch yet.

what you’re sensing is undeniably familiar, you realise. eventhough it’s been quite a while you haven’t experienced it, there’s no other explanation as to why your uterus is screaming for you to go to the bathroom.

miguel clicked on way before you could even confirm it though.

a few months, nearing six to be exact, your boyfriend has developed his wits to sense exactly what stage of your cycle you’re in, instinctively becoming second nature. besides your body language doing most of the talking, his ability to smell helps him discover more about you than you do yourself.

you appreciating it is an understatement to say the least. except... except that it’s hard to hide when you’re ovulating.

he shakes the thought.

“amor,” miguel whispers, in an attempt to wake you up. by your heartbeat, however, he knows you’re slipping into and out of consciousness—not too slow and almost at a resting rate.

his eyebrows furrow with one look at your face—kissed by the moon and kissed by him. he’s always up before you are, never wavering to steal that one chance to admire you. as his eyes trail to your fingers hanging from the edge of the bed, back to every feature and detail on your face, a deep chuckle escapes him; he simply couldn’t put into words how much he’s in love with you. the awe he has in your beauty resurfaces, the way you have glitter for skin, the way he can get to call you his.

at that, he’s not willing to disturb your rest, but he must, just so he can cater for you like he should.

“baby...” miguel nudges your arm the slightest, lips meeting with your forehead. a kiss, two kisses, three. “nena, porfa... wake up.”

“no,” you dismiss.

“you need to. estás en tú periodo, mi amor.”

finally, your eyes are met with his. and that’s when your eyebrows knit together, all your emotions and feelings align to fit with the facts.

“want me to get you up?”

your hand lazily raises to him, in which he responds swiftly to, bracing you in his arms to take you to the bathroom. as soon as he sets you down in front of the sink, it takes him seven seconds at most to grab a few stuff you’ll be needing: pads, a hot water bottle, paracetamol and water.

“how did the kettle heat the water so quickly?”

“tomé café.”

“oh,” you nod, sighing and seating yourself down. hugging the hot water bottle close to your tummy gives you mild relief, giving you a chance to breathe with much less struggle. by the look of your face, however, miguel knows that you’re drained. he senses it. so, he kneels in front, both of his hands on your knees, and promises, “estoy aquí... estoy aquí.”

“yo sé, cariño.”

“need anything else?” he asks, opening the pad packet and placing it in the fresh underwear he had bought you last week.

shaking your head, you pout at him.

his head tilts to the side, eyes smiling at you before he plants a kiss on your lips, lingering.

it’s later on in the day where miguel finds himself back at hq in the monitor room, his work making him busy when he really, really doesn’t want it to. the anomalies keep on appearing out of nowhere, and his plans to keep everything in the right structure always seem frail until the last moment. it sends him to an overdrive, especially with the fact that he’s been preoccupied with the thought of you and how you’re still having to be in the other room, in pain, but lyla insists that the team needs you.

he clenches his fist when she reiterates the same answer to his question again, making the best effort to hide the scowl that forms on his face. after eight trips in the portal today already, he’s in the dire need to head out for a break.

meanwhile, you’re in the other room, sat on a large table in a good distance between gwen and hobie. pavitr, peter b., and jess are also present, having stuffed yourselves with pizza and trash for lunch.

food gets you lost in a world of your own, and you’ve just happily eaten to your heart’s content. yet the usual quiet after everyone has eaten suffuses the room, with them doing their own thing. but all you’re doing is staring blankly into space, foot rubbing on to the other mindlessly as if to distract you from your discomfort.

peter b. has already got some milk heating on the stove. an odd request from you, he thinks, since it’s summer and mid-day, but obliges regardless—for all those times you’ve babysat mayday, this is just a small favour.

gwen notices your restlessness, eyes narrowing at you before she asks in a hushed tone, “hey, you okay?”

you shake your head. the cramps increase twofold now you’re aware of it somehow, and it has your teeth grinding.

“i feel you,” she reveals, her cadence sympathetic before coming close to whisper in your ear, “twinning!” you muster up the energy to turn your head towards her, sending her an inquisitive look. she nods, “mine was worse in the morning.”

“mine started then.”

a few moments pass, small chatter picking up between all of you. gwen advances towards you with her chair in tow, her head leaning onto your shoulder as she begins to rub your lower back. the peace inevitably—of course, how you knew—is interrupted with the door slamming back, revealing a frowning miguel.

eyes closed, you bite back a smile at your husband. a le gusta la atención.

he stops in his tracks towards the fridge. all eyes are on him when he takes a deep inhale, as if to smell something. he comments, “there’s pizza.”

it takes a moment of silence before hobie snorts, head cocking towards miles so that he could chuck the box at miguel for him to catch. miles explains, “tu mujer saved it.”

miguel squints his eyes at him. “¿qué?”

“i’m working on it!”

he glances at you, pupils scarlet, before turning his back, the slight waft of chocolate powder invading his senses as he proceeds to devour the pizza. that’s when he makes his way to where peter b. and mayday are, intending to continue to finish preparing the hot chocolate for you. surely it’s for you only; from everyone in this room, you and mayday are the sole people who enjoy cocoa, and nobody but you would choose to have it after lunch.

a friendly smile from peter greets miguel as he sees him approaching, but is brushed aside. second pizza down, now on his third, miguel moves to get the aerosol whipped cream from the refrigerator, and then the marshmallows, to which peter guesses that he’s probably helping him.

peter, loving to state the obvious, starts, “oh, y/n had told me to make her—”

“—i’ll do it.”

taken aback, peter gives him a dirty look, mayday mirroring him at an instant. it takes a lot of courage from miguel to calm down, most specifically at his fourth pizza slice, just so he could turn his head to peter and feign a smile. and that’s all it took for mayday and his dad to move away heartily and grudgeless.

whilst he takes his time crafting your beverage, gwen comes closer, joking to you about miguel, “uh, you think he’s on his period, too?”

shrugging, your nose crinkles as you smile. “i have somewhat of an influence on him.”

“no shit, he managed to let out a smile after being fed with food.”

“that’s miguelito for you.”

“he’s had this period for life,” she snorts.

a cup, full of everything you love and looking as scrumptious as ever, is abruptly set down in front of you.

“all this—” miguel starts, waving a hand between you both, “—slander ‘bout me.” he webs a chair from behind you, grabbing it, and seats himself to your left.

gwen suddenly becomes busy with her phone.

leaning forward, face mere inches from yours, he scans your eyes, mouth, hands—everything—with concern written all over his own features. you’re staring at him back, head leaning onto your shoulder as the slightest wave of fatigue washes over you.

as delicate fine strokes on a portrait, his eyebrows raise at this. and you understand him, but you shake your head anyway.

he asks to confirm, “estás bien?”

“angry, then hungry, now concerned,” gwen notes, “what’s next?”

miguel gives gwen a light scowl, unintentionally at that.

she exclaims, tapping away on her phone, “one little comment!”

“leave hiiim,” you drag out, ending with a giggle. the pad of your thumb reaches out for his chin, grazing over as you feel his warmth under your touch. a few more moments of silence hangs between the two of you like this. “he’s just being sweet.”

evening dawns on you soon enough, work finished and tiring you and your limbs out extensively. dinner was an hour ago, and both you and miguel stand near the bannister situated at the balcony back at home, witnessing tonight’s nightfall.

you’ve been lucky enough for your cramps to have subsided in the past half hour—not that you’ve really noticed, but at least miguel has.

the sun bathes in the sky filled with shades of oranges and reds as it descends ever so slowly—that’s what you’re marvelling at though.

miguel knows best to take every moment he can to admire you, every chance he gets to be in his delicate daydream. all up to the point your pain is disguised by the smallest eyebrow furrow, he’s quick to scurry behind you. and there he stands, encircling your waist before his palms and fingers massaging over your stomach.

a hum of approval from you is sufficient for him to keep going.

purely for the fun of it, you probe, “never asked you these past few months, but is it not making you bloodthirsty at all?”

miguel frowns, waiting a few moments to see if you’ll dismiss the question, but to no avail. he sighs, “in the nicest way possible as i ask this, muñeca, you want me to?”

“does it though?”

“that’s not the kind of blood i go for.”

your head falls back, snug in his chest. you tease hum further, “no doubt it is.”

he grimaces amusingly.

you snort, “i’m joking, i’m joking.”

he shakes his head, lips turning upwards into a smile as you continue to chuckle. a nip at your neck ebbs away your laughter there and then, turning into something more of a tiny squeal.

you scrunch your nose before taking a deep breath as another cramp aches your abdomen. “keep doing that, you’ll make me bleed from two places.”

he winces.

you hear when he does that, muttering, “big baby.”

“i’ll give you ‘baby’,” he returns playfully, a smirk dancing on his lips as he walks away, facing you still, “with all this teasing, you’ll have no period next month the way you’re going.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?”

he shrugs, tapping his temple thereafter. “surely, you own the hq with me, you know so much... just keep on thinking.”

no period.

baby?

baby.

“ain’t no way!”

just roughly two weeks later, as expected, a simple winding-down time takes a turn when your hand travels up his thigh. and miguel is miguel—even with his firm hold around your wrist stopping you from trailing ahead, you bite your lip.

“¿qué pasó?”

you retreat little by little, yet the sparkle in your eyes tells him otherwise, igniting the ever-burning flame within him. you’re far from disapproval the second you’re under him, and lucky enough, his smell confirms it.

entangled limbs and deep kisses later, you pull away, grasping his visage in your hands. it takes you by surprise, the way his eyes glimmer and shine, resembling the colour of cherries.

you manage to confess breathily, “your eyes are so pretty.” angling his head to get a better image of you in the dim light, miguel perceives the cutest smile appearing on your lips. you proceed in a whisper, “can i have them?”

his breathing slows as he takes a brief glance at you, and your gaze doesn’t falter. he doesn’t wait another moment not to kiss you the millionth time, your bottom lip captured between both of his in desperation. three, five, seven seconds into it, when his tongue grazes yours, he feels his fangs emerge, making him pull away just as quickly so he doesn’t hurt you.

“no, nena,” he utters the answer against your lips, smirking, “but your kids can.”

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