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azrielsdove · 5 months

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Rejected: Cassian x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Slight Violence, Suggestive Scenes

***

He was drowning. The pain was too much. His heart had been ripped out of his chest, shattering his bones. He was done. He was going to die. He couldn’t remember anything before this pain. He didn’t know who he was or his own name. He was already gone, it didn’t matter if his body stayed alive. He was dead.

***

You were running, feet barely touching the steps below you. You had seen Nesta come to the Riverhouse and you had taken one look at her face and known. You left her with Elain and took off for Cassian. Rhys and Azriel were away, leaving you to climb the 10,000 stairs. It had been a hundred years since you had done this, but the adrenaline coursing through you made it an easy task. It was just taking too long.

Nesta had rejected the mate bond.

You weren’t sure if you were mad with her or not. You hadn’t had time to really think about why she would do this. Not when the second you realized you took off for Cassian. He was alone. He needed someone. You hoped you could get to him in time, that he would still be himself when you got there. You knew a rejected mating bond could nearly kill the mate. You didn’t think you could ever forgive Nesta if Cassian didn’t make it through this.

You finally reached the door into the House of Wind, throwing it open. You paused once inside, listening for any signs of life.

Nothing.

You took off running again, calling for Cassian. You checked his room before running up to the training ring. You knew he hadn’t left the House, that he would be in no condition to think, much less fly somewhere. You slid through the entry into the ring, heart tearing in two as you took in the scene in front of you.

Cassian. He was curled up on his knees, smaller than you had ever seen him. You threw yourself down next to him, arms wrapping around him the best you could. You didn’t know what to do for someone in this situation. You didn’t know what to say to him. All you knew was to hold him close and try to let him know he wasn’t alone. That he didn’t have to go through this by himself. You sat there and held him for hours, until the sun started to shine over the horizon.

You pulled your stiff arms from around him, calling his name softly. “Cass? Cassian?” You pushed his hair out of his face and lifted his head towards you, willing him to open his eyes. He gave a small grunt of disapproval, pulling his head back down. You sighed before slipping your arms under his and heaving him up. You got him to his feet and supported him as you began walking. You weren’t used to carrying this much weight, but you would be damned if you were going to let him sit out in the sun all day.

You guided him inside and towards him room, setting him on his bed. You carefully removed his shoes and his training leathers, pulling out light cotton pants to change him into. You got him dressed and under the covers, sitting on the bed next to him. He had never opened his eyes. He was a ghost of who he used to be. You felt tears start at the back of your eyes, panic coming that he would be stuck like this. You shook your head once and stood, heading down to the kitchen to get him some water and try to find something he would eat. It was going to be a long time before you knew if this damage would last.

***

It had been a week and nothing was different. Cassian had yet to open his eyes or even react to anything you did. He would sip water and broth when you held them up to him, and would allow you to lead him to the bathroom to clean up in the evenings. Otherwise he stayed in his bed and didn’t move. You had started reading him books you thought he’d enjoy, having given up on him talking to you. You knew he was going to need time, but that didn’t help the ache in your heart at seeing him like this.

You paused your reading to look at him. You had met Cassian almost two hundred years ago now. You were in a fight on the edges of the Night Court against some of the nastier creatures of Prythian when he found you. He arrived right before the last remaining creature delivered a killing blow. Cassian saved your life that day, finishing off the creature and rushing you to Velaris to see a healer.

You had expected to go back to your life after you were healed, but Cassian had told Rhysand he wanted you in his armies. He was impressed with how you handled yourself and thought you would be a key asset. He took on training you himself, turning you into one of the deadliest beings the Night Court had to offer.

The man who lay in front of you now was a far cry from the one who saved you that day. Yet he didn’t give up on you then, and you won’t give up on him now. You lifted the book back up and continued reading to him.

***

After a month you knew you had to at least get him to open his eyes. You had to convince him to leave his room on his own and begin to come back to life. You weren’t going to sit here and watch Cassian sink into nothingness anymore. You walked into his room bright and early, pulling the curtains apart and opening his windows. He could do with some fresh air and sunlight. You walked over to his bed and pulled his covers off of him. He let out a groan and rolled over to his other side. “Not today, Cass.” You said, keeping your tone light but commanding. You grabbed his hands and pulled him to sitting, patting the side of his face gently. “Come on, big boy. Open those eyes for me. I’m certain you can.” Your hand fell to his neck, angling his face to look at you. He made a noncommittal noise and tried to flop back onto the bed. You gripped his arms in both your hands to prevent that, tutting at him. “Cass, you have to open your eyes. It’s been a month. We need you to start to come back to us.” Your voice dropped as you continued; “I need you to come back to me.”

You sat next to him on the bed, still holding him up. You let go with one hand again and reached up to rub gently under each eye. “You can survive this, you know you can. I’ll help you every step of the way, Cass. I need you to help me though, I need you to just open those eyes for me. Please.” Your hand dropped and you brushed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. “You can do it.” You whispered to him, yours hands moving to hold his own. He gave a deep, shuddering breath and slowly pulled his eyes open.

You almost jumped back in shock when you saw them.

Instead you gripped his hands tighter, giving him the biggest smile you could. “Thats it Cass!” You said brightly, hoping that he wouldn’t realize anything was wrong. “Can you see me?” You asked, wondering if the look of his eyes had changed their function. He gave you a small nod and you smiled again. “Wonderful. Do you think you can stand for me?” You asked, rising from his bed and tugging on his hands. He stood slowly and followed you as you lead him to the kitchen. You sat him at the table and turned to start making food for him. You paused while everything was cooking to send a quick message to Rhys:

He’s awake. He’s moving. I got him to the kitchen and I got him to open his eyes. Rhys…his eyes. Should you send a healer?

You sent the image of what you had seen when Cassian first looked at you. Of the cold, dead, dark black eyes he looked at you with. There was nothing there. The whites of his eyes were almost gone, fractured black swimming around them. You had never seen anything like that, but you didn’t know all the symptoms that came with a rejected mating bond. Rhys’ voice filled your head as he responded:

You did good. Try to keep him up. Make him get up everyday. As for his eyes, I was expecting that to happen. The black comes from the shattered bond, it resembles what’s flowing through his body right now. During his healing his eyes will go back to normal, so do not worry. Please keep doing what you’re doing up there.

You sent him a quick thank you before putting some bacon, eggs, and toast on a plate. You placed the plate in front of him and turned to make yourself one. You figured it would be easier for him to eat if he wasn’t alone. You sat next to him, angling your body to face him. He just stared down at the food, making no move to eat. “Come, Cass.” You said softly, picking up his fork. “You will feel better once you have eaten.” He slowly took the fork from you and scooped up a bite of egg, chewing like it was his first time. You stood to bring him a glass of water, nearly dropping it when he spoke.

“I had expected my next meal to be made by her. Not by you.” His voice was strained, hoarse. You tried not to take offense to his words, there was no emotion behind them. You sat next to him again, handing him the glass. You didn’t know what to say to him. You two sat in silence as he ate his food, and when he was done you helped him back to bed. You washed his hair and his face before tucking him under the covers, setting some water and crackers on his nightstand for if he woke up. He was asleep almost instantly, and for the first time that month you left him to sleep alone.

When you closed the door to his room, the emotion of everything took over you. You slid to the ground against his door, burying your head in your knees as you cried.

***

Another month had passed. You had started by bringing Cassian down to breakfast every morning, and then slowly added in lunch and dinner. He still hadn’t said much, but the black in his eyes was beginning to disappear. Now that you had him eating well again his body was regaining some of its weight back. You were ready to push him into the next step, preparing for some pushback.

“Cassian,” you began slowly, “Let’s train today.”

He stopped chewing but didn’t look at you. “No.” he said gruffly, going back to eating. You nodded, having expected this. “I know you don’t think you are ready to, but it has been over two months since you’ve last trained. Your body needs to feel powerful again, you need to feel powerful again.” He shook his head. “I won’t.”

You sighed and stood up, facing him. “I can’t make you do anything. I’ll be out there when you are ready.” You left him there to eat his breakfast. You didn’t expect him to come right away. You knew it was going to be more of a fight before you got him out here.

So you picked up your sword and began training alone.

***

The next few days were much the same. You’d ask Cassian to come train, he’d decline. You let him off easy the first few days, but you slowly started to push harder. Today you had decided that you wouldn’t give up until he at least went to the training ring with you. He needed to just stand back out there and remember who he was.

“Your training leathers are freshly cleaned for you. Put them on and join me.” You said, finishing your breakfast. As usual, he said no. “I’m not taking no as an answer today, Cassian.” You kept your voice calm, but made sure to have an air of command in it. He glanced at you and repeated, “No.” You shrugged and stood up. “I told you. I’m not taking no as answer. You’re coming up with me.” You stared at him until he finally looked at you. His eyes were still mostly black, but the improvement was there.

“No.” He said again, not dropping his gaze. You shook your head, holding onto the chair in front of you. “At least walk up there with me. You need to get out of this house. You need to feel the breeze again. You need to remember who you are.” You were almost begging. Your eyes locked on each other for some time, your heart beating rapidly.

“No.” He said again and turned back to his food. You let out a sigh of exasperation and threw your hands up in the air. “I can’t help you if you won’t even try.” You shot out, your words a bit harsh. “I’ve been doing everything for you, Cassian, and the least you could do is walk outside.” He stiffened at your words before standing slowly.

“I said. No.” He spoke again, glaring down at you. You kept your spine straight and leaned forward to whisper with deadly seriousness, “I said. Come.” A heartbeat passed and his fists clenched.

“You’re not in charge of me.” He spat.

“I’m not trying to be ‘in charge’ of you. I’m trying to help you.” You were trying very hard to stay calm.

“I don’t want your help.” Cassian sneered, looking you up and down.

“Tough shit, Cass. I’m not going to give up on you.” You responded, eyes fierce.

He scoffed. “Why does it matter to you? I didn’t ask for you to get me that day. You should have left me there.”

Your vision grew blurry at realizing what he meant. “I would’ve never left you. I love you. I care about you. Everyone does. You’re our family Cassian.”

You didn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes. “I dont care how you feel. All I cared about was her. And she left me. I don’t want to be around anyone, especially not you.”

You opened and closed your mouth, unsure what to say. You knew he was hurting and that it was common for hurt people to hurt people, thought that didn’t take the sting of his words away. You looked at him for a moment before turning and leaving, heading up to the training ring. At least you knew you wouldn’t see him up there.

***

You trained until it was dark, skipping lunch and dinner. You trained until your knuckles were bloody from punching the bags over and over. You trained until you thought your arms were going to fall off. You trained so you didn’t have to think about Cassian. You had no idea what to do with him. You don’t know why Rhys was letting you do this alone. Why no one would come help you. Azriel lives here too, why hasn’t he been around? You were certain he could be more help than you were.

You finally went down to bed, cleaning up and deciding to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Cassian was going through one of the darkest periods of his life, and you were here to help him. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, so why act surprised when it’s hard? Tomorrow you would try a new plan. You fell asleep with a small smile, having realized that an emotion had finally showed up in Cass. Until this morning he had been a void, a shell. Today, he had gotten angry. It was a small victory.

***

The next day, Cassian was already eating when you arrived. He looked up at you and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced to your bandaged hands. You grabbed some food, needing all your strength for what you were about to do. Neither of you said anything while you ate, as the meals typically went. When you were done you stood and washed your plate before turning to face Cassian.

“Get up. Wash your dish, and let’s go.” You said, crossing your arms. He looked sharply up at you, saying nothing. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m telling you. Get off your lazy ass and do something with your sorry existence.” His ears reddened and he stood up quickly.

“What did you say to me?” He asked, his voice dangerously cold. You weren’t going to let him scare you, not today.

“I said, let’s go. I get it. Your heart has been broken. Boo fucking whoo Cass, that doesn’t mean you throw your life away.” You stood strong in front of him, not letting the hate in his eyes affect you. The eyes that were slightly less black than the day before.

“You have no idea what it is like. You do not get to stand there and demand I do what you say. There is no life for me, not now.” He said, taking a step closer to you. That intimidation would not work on you, not today.

“Yea, I don’t know what it’s like. But do you really believe your life is over? If that’s what you think, what are you doing here? Why did you even get out of bed?” You raised your hands in front of you, gesturing to the kitchen. Cassian took a step closer, towering over you.

“You. Don’t. Understand.” He grunted out, leaning down to your height. You rolled your eyes.

That was your mistake.

In a split second Cassian had grabbed you by the arm and was dragging you through the house. He brought you to one of the closest balconies and shoved you against it so half your body was hanging over the edge, your arm tucked behind your back. He was pressed up behind you, mouth by your ear. “Look down.” He whispered, using his other hand to tilt your head down, down to see the ground way below. “That’s quite a drop. I could toss you over this without a second thought. No one would hear your scream, no one would come and rescue you. Push me again, and I won’t hesitate to do it.” He spat out, pushing your body so hard into the balcony you couldn’t help the cry of pain you gave.

Then he was gone.

Your whole body was shaking as you stepped away from the edge of the mountain, not stopping until your back hit a wall behind you. You couldn’t do this. Cassian couldn’t be saved. Cassian was dead. Whoever that was, you didn’t know him. You felt the tears come hot and fast, wrapping your arms around yourself. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t do this.

***

You called for Rhys. You called for Feyre. You even tried to find the shadow Azriel usually leaves, hoping to contact him. No one responded. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know why they had abandoned you up here with a male who clearly had no issues killing you. Was this some part of their messed up plan? See how far Cassian would go before he snapped? Would they be able to save you in time?

You cried hard that night. You cried for yourself, for the fear of your safety. You cried for who Cassian used to be, and you cried for the being he was now. You cried until you couldn’t cry anymore, and then you cried so hard you threw up. You didn’t sleep at all, the morning coming too fast. You debated hiding in your room to avoid him, before realizing that’s exactly what he wanted. You knew deep down that Cassian wouldn’t hurt you. You could only hope that was true for the monster he currently was. You took a deep breath and got ready, trying to hide the shadows under your eyes and the tear tracks on your skin.

You weren’t going to give up on him. Not when it seemed like everyone else had.

***

You didn’t talk to Cassian at breakfast. You ate quietly and when you were done you simply announced you were going to train and left. You didn’t even look at him.

You trained for the morning, coming back at lunch. Again, you didn’t speak or look at him. When you were finished you announced you were going to read, and he could find you if he needed anything.

Dinner went much the same, except you could feel his eyes on you now. You refused to look at him, not caring about which expression he wore. When you finished you bid him goodnight and went to bed. This started your next plan for him.

***

The following weeks you acted in the same way. Not looking or speaking to him until your meal was over, and only then speaking to let him know where you would be. If showing you cared didn’t work, and trying to demand didn’t work, then you would act indifferent. He could figure it out on his own.

You were beginning to doubt your plan, sitting in the middle of the training ring. You were drawing circles in the sand, having no desire to train today. You were tired of training alone. You were tired of being alone. You were just tired. Your eyes started to droop and you wondered if you should just take a nap right there. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing was working to get Cassian up here. You laid down in the sand and let your eyes close. You felt the warm sun on your skin, breathing deep. You almost felt at peace for the first time since finding Cass in this very spot. You wished you hadn’t been the first one to get to him. You wished Azriel or Rhys had beat you up here, had taken the role of bringing him back to life.

You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice Cassian enter the ring. You didn’t see the way his eyes looked over you. You didn’t see the small smile on his face as he took you in, your relaxed expression, your hair falling out of its braid behind you, the way your fingers trailed through the sand. You didn’t notice him come lay beside you, closing his eyes as well. You had no idea he was there as a calmness settled over the two of you, sleep welcoming you with wide arms.

***

Your throat was burning when you woke up. You groaned and stretched your muscles. Sleeping under the sun in the sand was probably not your best idea. You had no idea how long you were out. You opened your eyes and slowly sat up. You knew you should go back inside, down to lunch to see if Cassian-

Cassian. Cassian who was laying in the sand next to you. Cassian who was asleep in the sand next to you. Cassian who must have come up, seen you, and decided to stay. Cassian, who looked so beautiful with his hair splayed behind him, the sun shining off his face. He reminded you of the old him, the loving, funny, kind Cassian.

You don’t know how long you sat there and looked at him. A selfish part of you never wanted this moment to end. You weren’t ready to go back to the cruel, sad Cass of the past few months. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached over and brushed some hair out of his face, feeling his soft skin under your fingertips.

His eyes shot open and before you could react he had you pinned under him, a blade against your throat. You couldn’t breathe or move, your eyes wide and panicked as you looked up at him. He pressed the blade in harder, looking ready to kill you. You wiggled an arm free and put your hand over his on the blade, slowly lifting it up. You watched as his expression calmed and then horror took over his face. He jumped away from you, hands up. “No, no I didn’t mean- I didn’t know- I didn’t.” He stuttered, his hands having a slight shake to them. You slowly crawled over to where he was sitting and pulled his hands down into your own.

“It’s okay, Cassian.” You said, squeezing his hands. He looked down at your locked hands, unmoving. “I’m okay. You’re okay.” You whispered soothingly, trying to coax him out of his own head. “I’m here. I’m here and you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” You continued, holding his hands tight. You felt the first tear hit your hand before you heard his gasping breaths.

Cassian was crying.

You pulled him into your chest and wrapped your arms around him as best you could. You let him cry for what felt like hours. He needed to get all that emotion out, all that pain from today and the past months. You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair, whispering that he was okay and that you loved him. That he was your best friend and you’d do anything for him. That you wouldn’t hold the way he’s been acting against him, no one you knew had been in his spot before. You held him until his breathing began to even out, until his eyes ran dry. You held him until he moved first, pulling away to look at you. You felt your own tears coming as you took him in, as you looked at his eyes. His eyes that were almost entirely back to normal, with just a few bits of black on the edges. You broke into a smile and pulled him back into you, holding him tight. “It’s good to have you back, Cass.” You whispered as his arms wrapped around you too.

***

“Wake up, sunshine!” A voice bellowed through your room, your curtains being thrown open. You blinked in surprise as your eyes focused in on Cassian, who was dressed for training. “We’ve got lots of work to do.” He said, crossing his arms and looking at you still in bed. “Up! Up!” He clapped, coming over and pulling your blankets off of you. You squealed and tried to grab them before he had fully exposed you and the very thin nightgown you were wearing. Unfortunately he was quicker than you. You watched as his eyes dragged over your body, a strange expression on his face. You couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach at his gaze.

The moment was broken when he gave a laugh and told you to put something “training appropriate” on before leaving your room.

***

For two months you and Cassian trained harder than you ever had before. He pushed you to your limits and then some, not happy until you almost collapsed at the end of each session. You were glad to do it as you watched the last bits of black fade from his eyes.

It had been half a year since Nesta had rejected the bond. You and Cassian hadn’t seen anyone else since then. You knew you had to talk to him about seeing the others soon, and the likeliness of him seeing Nesta too.

You didn’t want to ruin your happy little bubble quite yet, though.

You smiled as Cassian talked over dinner, explaining the new techniques he was ready to teach you. You loved how excited he got, the way his eyes would light up. Your gaze fell to his mouth as he talked, staring at his lips, wondering how they’d feel against your skin-

No. You had been pushing your feelings for Cassian down for 200 years now, trying to pretend they didn’t exist. When he first saw Nesta you didn’t miss the slight change in him and you knew he would never be yours. Your selfish mind pointed out how Nesta had rejected him, how he was open for the taking, how he could be yours. But no. Cass had a long way to go on his healing journey, and the last thing he needed was you lusting after him.

***

It had been a year. A year since Nesta rejected that bond. Over the past six months you and Cassian had gotten closer and closer. Rhysand had started visiting, Azriel too. Feyre had stayed away at first, wanting to be sure Cassian would be okay seeing her. Seeing the sister of his would-be mate. You were surprised at the way he brushed her concerns off, wrapping her in the biggest hug when she finally came. He told her that she wasn’t her sister, and he would never hold anything Nesta did against her. You felt your heart swell with pride, so different from the Cassian of a few months before.

You had convinced him to leave the House of Wind on a few occasions, flying down to walk the streets of Velaris. You purchased two small chocolate cakes in secret the last time you went, proudly showing them to him when you got back home.

Home. Home was with Cassian now. You loved the life you had created for him, you loved seeing him so full of joy and hope. You would sometimes remember those first dreadful months, the way he looked and the way he acted. That perfect bubble you had created around the two of you was going to end soon. Rhysand had brought up the idea of having a party at the House, a party to welcome Cassian back.

A party that would include Nesta.

You had shot that idea down the second it came out of Rhys’ mouth, eyes burning red. “What are you thinking? Inviting her?” Cassian had laid a soothing hand on your arm, making you look at him. He wore a calm and peaceful expression on his face, and his words shocked you.

“Let her come. I can’t avoid her forever.” He rose a hand to cup your face. “Take it as the last step of my recovery. I’ll have my little savior by my side the whole time.” Heat rose through you at his touch and his words. His little savior, he had taken to calling you. Cassian knew it made you blush, and a part of him enjoyed the pink coloring your cheeks a little too much. You simply nodded, wanting to sink into his hand, into his skin. Sadly he had already pulled away and looked back at Rhys. You gave a small shake of your head, clearing your thoughts and looked to Rhys as well.

You did not enjoy the knowing smirk on his face.

“A party then! We will have it a week from today.” He gave Cassian a broad smile and clapped him on the back. “It’ll be good to have you back, brother.”

***

You felt as though your heart was going to explode. Anxiety coursed through your body, leaving your hands shaking as you tried to button up your dress. You gave a shout of frustration, slamming your hands down on the vanity in front of you. You looked up at your reflection and wished you could put on a brave face.

You were scared. You were scared of Cassian seeing Nesta. You were scared all your hard work this past year was going to be for nothing. You were scared for how she would react. You were scared to see her.

You ducked your head and stared at your perfectly manicured fingers digging into the table below them. You wanted to rip off each nail and throw them out the window. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t care how calm Cassian was about this whole situation. This was wrong. You dug your nails harder into the vanity, trying to force the negative thoughts away. You were about to give up and tell Cassian you couldn’t go, maybe you could be sick, when you heard a knock on your door. You straightened up and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. No, you couldn’t abandon him. Not tonight. He needed you to be strong by his side.

You walked over and opened the door to reveal Cassian. You pushed the door open wider to allow him to come in, closing it behind him. You looked him over, heat coursing through your body as you took him in. He looked delicious. He had on dark dress pants and a button down, a suit jacket thrown over his arm. You had never seen him in anything like this before and it left you embarrassingly speechless. You quickly moved your eyes to his face, trying to hide the way you had been looking at him. The embarrassment disappeared once you saw the way he was looking over you, the way his eyes lingered on your half buttoned dress, his pupils blown.

You could eat him.

Feeling a little daring, you turned your back to him and pushed your hair over your shoulder. “Do you think you could help me? I can’t seem to get it the rest of the way.” You asked, partly to actually get his help, and partly to feel his touch on your skin. Cassian nodded and stepped closer to start buttoning your dress. Goosebumps spread over your skin at his touch, your body betraying your thoughts. You looked up to the mirror in front of you, heart beating at the sight of him behind you. All too quickly the buttons were all done up, and you watched in the mirror as he hands rested at the base of your neck for a moment. You watched as his head lowered and his lips connected to your bare shoulder. It took everything in you to not throw your head back onto him and close your eyes.

Cassian cleared his throat and stepped away, gazing at the two of you in the mirror. “You look…beautiful.” He said, his words thick. You couldn’t help but agree with him as you looked at the navy blue velvet draped over your body. The high neckline wrapped around your throat like a collar, leaving your shoulders and arms bare as it connected to the tight material over your chest and stomach. At your waist it flowed almost dreamlike to the ground, one long slit going up to your hip to show your leg. You watched Cassians eyes in the mirror trail over you, the room feeling a million degrees.

You turned suddenly, pulling the jacket out of Cassians hands. “Come on,” you said, helping him into it, “Let’s get to your party.”

***

You had already found a glass of wine. No, you had found several glasses of wine. You tipped them back one after the other until that pleasant fuzzy feeling filled your body. You grabbed one more and went to find Cassian with Rhys and Azriel, wanting to make sure he was doing okay. He smiled as you joined their little group, an arm coming to wrap around your waist. You decided to act like this was completely normal, leaning into his touch and sipping your wine. You didn’t miss the look that shot between Rhys and Azriel, glaring at them in response. “Whatever keeps him comfortable.” You shot to Rhysands mind, a small nod of confirmation coming from him before he turned to Cassian.

“Are you ready?” He asked, arms out as if to say “We will go when you do.” Cassian plucked the wine glass out of your hands and downed the rest of it, laughing at your cry of disapproval.

“I’m ready.” He said, smiling down at your and tightening his grip on your waist. “Stay with me?” He asked, eyes searching yours. You smiled back at him and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.”

***

There she was. Nesta Archeron. As deadly beautiful as always, she was standing in front of you and her rejected mate. You felt Cassians fingers dig into your hip, but he placed a small smile on his face and tipped his head to her. “Nesta. You look well.” He spoke politely, as if they had only ever been casual acquaintances. She looked over the two of you, not missing his arm around your waist.

“As do you.” She responded, just as politely. “You seem…happy.” She gestured to the two of you and you felt your body stiffen, preparing for the undoubtably nasty comment she was going to follow up with. “I am glad.”

You couldn’t hide the shock on your face at not only her words, but also the kind tone she said them in. It seemed Cassian wasn’t the only one who had changed this past year. He smiled at her and looked down at you.

“Yea, I suppose I am.” He said, and there was no hiding the red that colored your cheeks. What was going on? was all you could think, this situation playing out completely different than you thought it would. You felt a hand on your arm and turned to look at Nesta.

“You have always been what he needed.” She said quietly, a shine in her eyes. You nodded at her, still confused on what was happening. She looked up to Cass once more, saying; “Have a good night, Cassian. Enjoy your party.”

And then she was gone.

You looked at Cassian with wide eyes, gauging how he was feeling. You were surprised at his relaxed smile as his hand moved from your waist to grab you hand. “Come with me.” He whispered, pulling you behind him. You felt like you were running after him until he stopped and pulled you out onto a balcony. Onto the balcony. The one he had threatened you on when he was in the deepest part of his anger.

You turned to face him, hands on your hips. “What are you doing?” You asked, frustrated at the way everyone was acting. “Something I should’ve done two hundred years ago.” He replied, coming close to you.

Before you had a chance to respond, his lips were on yours.

Your heart stopped as one arm wrapped back around your waist, the other threading through your hair. You melted into his touch, kissing him back the way you had dreamed of doing for so long. His hand in your hair tilted your head back, allowing him more access to you. You couldn’t help the small moan that escaped you as his tongue slid into your mouth, and you felt on fire when you heard his responding growl of satisfaction.

This was better than anything you had ever dreamed.

He gently moved you until you felt the railing of the balcony against your back. In a second Cassian had flipped you forward, facing out over Velaris just as you had all those months ago. However this time, you felt safe.

Cassian started trailing kisses on your shoulder, undoing the top buttons on your dress so he could kiss up your neck. His hand splashed across your stomach, keeping you tight to him. You let out a pleasured breath at his actions, dipping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long.” He growled into your ear, his other hand coming to cup your breast. A shiver ran through your body at his touch, at his words. “Nesta knew it.” He placed another kiss on your neck. “The day she rejected the mating bond, she told me she wouldn’t allow me to chain myself to her, not when my heart belonged to another.” He sucked the skin under your ear lightly, a gasp coming from you. “I was confused at first. I didn’t know what she was talking about.” Another kiss. “And then it was you who came to me that day. And I was so angry.” A sharp bite, your hands grabbing onto the railing in front of you as pleasure shot through your spine. “I was angry that she had seen what I hadn’t. I was angry that you came to save me. I was angry that my heart had betrayed me, had betrayed my mate.” Another bite, the hand on your stomach sliding to find that slit in your dress. “When I dragged you out here that day and pressed you to this balcony just like I am now, I was so full of rage. You were perfect. I gave you chance after chance to give up on me, and you wouldn’t.” Another bruising kiss on your neck, his hand on your hip sliding under the fabric of your dress. “I heard your cries that night, the pleading to Rhys. I begged him to not send anyone. That I would never hurt you, I would never act like that again. I realized the mistake I was making.” His hand found the edge of your underwear, tracing it lightly. You felt his smile against your skin at the small moan of need you gave him, pressing another kiss to your skin. “These past months training with you, i’ve wanted to pin you down beneath me and have my way with you every day.” You arched back into him at his words, begging his hand to slide to where you needed it. “Today, I decided I was done hiding my feelings. I was going to be honest with you.”

His hand came up to angle your head to face him. “I’m in love with you, my little savior. I always have been, from the day I found you fighting for your life on the edges of Court. It’s always been you.” Cassian stared at you, willing you to say something back. You rose on your toes and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you saved me on the edges of Court.” You whispered against his skin. He gave a small laugh, leaning down to kiss you again. “It seems we have wasted quite some time, then.” He said, before lust took over his eyes.

He leaned you back against the balcony, the hand under your skirt finally sliding to where you needed him. You cried out at his touch, his lips hot against your neck. “Now, i’m going to fuck you on this balcony so all of Velaris knows who you belong to.”

***

Thank you for your patience on this story!!! Please let me know how you feel about it, I kept rewriting it. I appreciate all the feedback so much <3

#acotar #acotar x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #rejected

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charliemwrites · 3 months

Text

Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).

So consider this part 4.5? idk it's late.

Usual CW for this series with dubcon, mean Soap, post-trauma coping.

It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.

You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.

It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.

Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.

You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—

It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.

Laswell suggested a cat.

You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.

But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.

You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.

The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…

She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.

If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.

So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.

Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.

Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.

The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?

You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.

Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.

“Nice catch, bonnie.”

You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.

“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”

You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.

You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.

You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.

You whisper, “Soap.”

He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”

His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.

“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.

He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.

Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.

Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.

The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.

“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”

An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.

“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”

He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.

“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”

You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.

“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.

You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.

“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”

A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.

“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”

His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.

“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”

He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.

“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”

And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.

“John!”

He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.

You can get through this without pain, just think.

“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”

He grumbles. “So what?”

You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”

He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”

“You like it.”

And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.

“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”

Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.

“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”

“Squeamish?”

You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.

“A bit,” you admit.

“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”

Is that what he thinks? Christ.

You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.

“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.

“Fix it, then,” he snarls.

You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.

“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”

A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.

This… this you could work with.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #asset soap #asset john soap mactavish #dub con #non con #rape

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actuallysaiyan · 2 months

Note

hihihi!! this is for your lovely valentines day event!! i was thinking maybe SDV Sebastian tries to plan the most romantic Valentine’s Day, but everything falls through and he has to try and improvise to impress reader! it can be nsfw or sfw its totally up to you!! :)) 💕

warnings: mentions of drinking, use of vibrator, Sebastian is a nasty little thing, Robin knows y'all are gonna get nasty word count: 1.1k pairings: Sebastian x Fem!Reader summary: Valentine's Day usually sucks for Seb, and this one is no different...except he really needs it to go well despite all his plans crumbling before his eyes.

Sebastian cannot believe how terribly this is going. After all the planning he put into today, it was just all crumbling before his very eyes. He’s been pining after you ever since the spring Flower dance, and now it’s winter and it’s valentine’s day and he had everything all planned out in the best way. Yet it just wasn’t going to work out in his favor.

The secret gift he had made for you? Somehow someone got into his room and it got pushed off the shelf. So the clay figurine of your character in Solarian Chronicles is completely destroyed. He had written you a sweet song, but for the life of him, he can’t find the notebook he wrote it in. And even the gift he ordered for you online isn’t going to show up on time.

Sebastian lays on his bed, his eyes closed tight and his breathing coming in and out quickly. He’s got just a few hours to be able to improvise for you, otherwise things are going to become even more terrible. He texts Sam for advice, then he texts Abigail. They both have different ideas for what he can do to make this work, but Sebastian begins working harder. He knows he’s going to have to figure something out. So he calls up the Saloon and he begs Gus to cook him up some sort of meal for you and him. Gus decides to do this favor for Sebastian, telling him to come pick it up within the hour.

The next thing he’s planning is to make his room a little more romantic. He changes the sheets, finds a few candles to light and cleans off the table so you both can eat there. Then he goes upstairs, looking for his mother.

Robin cheerfully helps her son plan the rest of the night sweetly. She reminds the rest of the family not to bother the happy couple, and she even gives Sebastian a bottle of champagne. He’s blushing as she hands this to him, a soft “have fun!” coming from her lips. Sebastian doesn’t even know what she’s thinking, but he knows she can probably deduce that there will be something naughty going on downstairs.

In the backyard, Seb begins picking some flowers. He doesn’t have a gift to give you, but he knows you love flowers. And once he gets a nice bouquet going, he spots Linus. The older man flashes him a soft smile, knowing that Sebastian is working his hardest to still make this a very romantic day. Despite the cold, Sebastian manages to pluck beautiful Crocus flowers and a few Holly for some balance.

Once he’s got the pretty bouquet of winter flowers, he settles them in a vase in his room. Sebastian takes a moment to look around and admire his handiwork. This bedroom was going to be the perfect setting for such a romantic evening. All that was left was for him to go pick you and the meals up. He takes the quickest shower and gets dressed in a warm hoodie and those tight jeans you love so much.

On his way to pick you up, his stomach is in knots. He’s worried you’ll be disappointed by the lack of real gifts and the way this night would go down. But when you greet him on the porch of your home, you’ve got the biggest smile on your face.

“Happy valentine’s day!” You say with a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He smiles, “Happy valentine’s day.”

You two share a sweet little kiss, and he pulls you in so close. It’s a sweet moment between two lovers, and he never wants this to end. Then he takes you by the hand and leads you towards the town center. You two stop at the Saloon to pick up the delicious dinner that Gus had prepared for you. He passes it to Sebastian, a playful wink and a glint in his eyes.

The walk back to Sebastian’s place has you so giddy. It feels like you’re floating on a cloud as you tell him about your day and he listens to you so attentively. Your heart is so full of love and happiness.

Inside his room, he pours some champagne for you and you two sit and eat such a delectable meal. Seb presents the flowers to you, which you coo over. You sheepishly give him a cute little valentine’s card you made for him. You scratch the back of your neck nervously, telling him you’ve been busy taking care of the animals and mining lately to make him anything more than that.

He smiles softly, “It’s perfect, baby.”

After dinner, you’re both full of champagne. It bubbles inside of both of you, coursing through your veins. Sebastian has you pinned to the bed, kissing you over and over. The way he holds you and kisses you makes your head spin. He presses his knee between your thighs, smirking at the way you moan from just this.

“Would you believe that when I got up this morning,” Sebastian asks between heated kisses. “That I thought everything was fucked up?”

You giggle, “Knowing you, yeah I’m not so surprised.”

He feigns being insulted, but it fuels him even more. He begins undressing you slowly, his eyes lingering on your beautiful body. Then he begins to press soft kisses to your most sensitive spots, relishing in the way you moan and gasp just for him. It’s so intoxicating to know that you react to the way he makes you feel so good. It’s something he prides himself on, and he knows he’s not going to stop anytime soon.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he grunts as he grinds against you. “I’m kind of happy this is how this night turned out.”

You mewl, “Me too, Sebby.”

He grins mischievously before reaching over for the drawer in the bedside table. You know what he’s reaching for and it makes your heart race like crazy. The sounds of the vibrations coming from the wand vibrator make your cunt dribble even more slick. Sebastian chuckles darkly.

“Cute,” he murmurs hotly against your neck. “Just hearing this thing gets you going, yeah?”

You nod your head, making him chuckle again. Then he brings the vibrator to your aching cunt, and you cry out for him. The sounds of your cute little moans make his cock strain against the fabric of his boxers. Slowly, he lets the vibrator circle around your swollen nub. Sebastian has you exactly where he wants you.

“All mine…All mine for valentine’s day. My perfect valentine.”

#bacon.writes #Sebastian sdv x you #Sebastian sdv x reader #sdv sebastian x you #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv Sebastian smut #sdv x reader #stardew valley Sebastian x reader

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exhaslo · 3 months

Note

OMG HI IM BACK I HOPE UR HYDRATED

FAST AND FURIOUS MIGUEL AND READER WHERE THEY’RE RIDE OR DIE, STREET RACING WHERE MIGGY WINS AND GETS HIS PRIZE IN THE BACKSEAT OF HIS OLD 2000s MODELED SUZUKI ?????

NEVER WATCHED A SINGLE FAST AND FURIOUS

BUT I'M NEVER ONE TO BACK DOWN ON A GOOD OL' BACKSEAT RIDE OR DIE CAR SEX HAHAHA

Sorry this was so late to be posted. I'm still backed up with requests from last month!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, car sex, fingering

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

There was never a dull moment in the city of Nueva York. Every street had something to offer, no matter the time of day. From the sunrise to even past the sunset. There was a reason why this city was given the name, 'The city that never sleeps'.

Amongst its citizens was you. A lovely night owl, just gearing up to be entertained by your fantastic boyfriend. Honestly, this was something that you had never thought of as entertaining. Car racing in the middle of the city was what kept you up most nights...

But Miguel showed you otherwise.

That man was going to drive you insane. When you first met him, you swore that all he cared about was his car. He treated it more like a woman than you sometimes, but...you opened up to his point of view. You saw how much Miguel cared about both you and his night life activities.

That, and he was goddamn hot when working on his 'baby'. Miguel was a mechanic during the day and one of the best street racers at night. You on the other hand just worked a normal office job; however, you easily became one of the most popular flag girls for the race.

"Amor (love), are you trying to temp me before the race?" Miguel said with a low hum as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You felt your cheeks fluster as Miguel pressed you against the wall. His kisses against the back of your neck were sweet and hungry. With a soft press of his hips, you felt Miguel's erection right into your booty shorts.

"Miguel, this is what the other flag girls told me to wear," You said with a soft whine, turning around in his grip, "They mentioned something about a special prize I'll be offering."

"Hn," Miguel grunted lowly as he glanced at the time, "Whatever prize it maybe, this body is only meant for me to see."

"Haha, they're just booty shorts. I haven't worn something like this in such a long time."

"And the tight tank top?" Miguel rested his head by your breasts, inhaling deeply, "Ay dios mio (oh my god), I better win this race and fast so I can tend to you."

You chuckled at Miguel's possessiveness. Pecking his lips, you stroked his cheeks, rubbing against the small gruff he had growing. Miguel pouted and quickly went to clean and shave. Sometimes he forgot about himself when he worked.

Once ready, you scooted yourself into Miguel's passenger seat. Miguel leaned over to land a deep kiss against your lips before driving off to the event sight.

You remembered the first time he let you in his, 'baby'. You were confused as to why he took so much care of an old 2000s Suzuki. Miguel gave you quite a story when he explained everything in detail. How even the smallest mod could change the way he drives.

There were a lot of do's and don'ts in his car too. You followed them since you knew how much Miguel cared about his car. Glancing at his backseat, you wondered what Miguel was working on there. He had been making some changes and improvements that always left you curious.

"Alright, make sure you wave that flag extra high for me when I win," Miguel said with a low chuckle as you got out of his car.

"Hopefully the prize is just as good."

"I could always use some more parts," Miguel hummed and winked towards you before driving off to the others.

You smiled brightly as you hurried to the other girls. This was going to be a first for you. Taking part in Miguel's hobby made you happy. The other girls giggled towards you as led you to the starting line. Everyone cheered once you all arrived.

"Shake that ass!!" Some of the men in the crowd cheered.

You felt your face burn up and looked around for Miguel. Once you found him, you giggled towards the glare he gave to the crowd. This was probably going to be the last time you became a flag girl. Miguel was far too possessive of you to have men drool.

"Alriiiiight, who's ready for tonight's race?!" The announcer yelled out, followed by a wave of cheers, "We got a special prize today! Been a while since we've gotten a new flag girl, so you all know what this means!"

"Trophy! Trophy! Trophy!"

"Thaaaaat's right! (Y/N) will be the delicious trophy for today's prize! Here that racers! You get a special night with our lovely (Y/N)!"

You felt your face pale as you tried to ask the other girls what the announcer meant. They all just smiled and reassured you that it was fun and no harm done. You knew better. Staring at Miguel, you frowned as you saw the scorn on his face.

Miguel hurriedly got in his car and revved up the engine. You trusted Miguel, so you had faith that he was going to win, but if he didn't...Miguel might end up fighting someone.

-------

Miguel was beyond furious. He knew that some of these races got a little out of hand, but to use you as a prize? Cussing lowly as he gripped the wheel, Miguel slammed the gas petal once the flag was raised. He refused to let anyone else have you.

Hearing another engine rev, Miguel hissed as he saw his main competition catch up to him. The nerve! Gripping onto the stick shift, Miguel just smirked as he decided to go full out. He had to show these people that he was number one for a goddamn reason!

-------

You were shaking in your seat as you watched the race from one of the monitors. Biting your thumb, you nearly whimpered as some of the other racers came a little too close to Miguel. Miguel was still far in the lead, but it didn't stop you from worrying.

After another few go arounds, you gasped in awe as Miguel took the victory once again. Unable to contain your excitement, you rushed over to your boyfriend as the announcer cheered him on.

"Are you ready for you-Oh, hey, wait! We're not done!"

You were giggling to yourself as Miguel carried you with in and threw you in his car before driving off. Glancing back at the annoyed announcer, you cheered and wrapped your arms around Miguel's neck from the back seat.

"I was so worried! No one told me I was going to be the prize!" You said with a soft whine. Miguel kissed your hand as he drove to a remote spot,

"Neither did I, babe. I wasn't going to let anyone win." He grumbled as he parked, "But, since I did. I should claim my prize."

You raised a brow before laughing as Miguel made his way to the backseat. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled as you gave him light kisses around his face. Miguel hummed in response before licking your lips.

You parted your lips for him, moaning softly as Miguel ravished your mouth with his tongue. His hands roaming your upper body, slowly sliding your top off. A shiver ran down your spine as the cold AC from the car hit your exposed nipples.

"Are you sure you want to do it here?" You asked, humming softly as Miguel kissed your neck.

"Made sure its comfortable," Was all he said as he started to rub your clit through your pants, "But, can't make a mess in here."

You whimpered in response, arching your back as Miguel licked your breasts. His tongue swirling around your nipple as his rough movements against your clit made you tremble. You grabbed onto his arms, trying to balance yourself as you moved your hips.

Miguel grunted in response as he undid your shorts, throwing them on the ground. He proceeded to bite and suck against your nipples while his fingers went under your panties and circled against your sensitive bud.

"M-Mig~"

"So wet already for me." Miguel chuckled as you moaned, "If you make a mess in my car baby, I'll have to punish you."

"I-I won't." You whimpered, tugging against his arms.

You shuddered in pleasure as Miguel moved his fingers down to your cunt. It was hard for you to move since Miguel's body was pressing you into his seat. Another whimper of a moan escaped your lips as you felt him play with your folds before slowly entering a finger into your pussy.

"Miguel~" You cried out, throwing your head back.

Your moans grew louder as you felt your loving boyfriend pump his thick digits into your core. His tongue still against your breasts, sucking against them. You body was burning up, shaking and ready to burst...but you couldn't make a mess.

Part of you wanted to cum all over his seat and take the punishment, but the other part of you was enjoying Miguel's game. Gasping as Miguel entered another finger, you moaned loudly as he curled his fingers into your gummy core.

You finally burst when you felt his fingers press against your sweet spot. Crying out his name, you panted softly as Miguel pulled his fingers out. His smirk was wide as he licked his fingers clean, holding your hips up.

"Good girl, keeping my baby clean." He said with a low chuckle.

"Mhpm," You nodded and trembled as Miguel slowly pressed his tip inside your hole, "M-Miguel~"

"You're doing so good." He hummed, slowly pushing himself deeper inside you, "Always taking me in so well."

"Mig~ Miguel~" You cried out, feeling him fill you.

You squirmed in place, clenching against Miguel's dick as he furthered entered you. You could never get over the feeling of Miguel splitting you open, filling you to the very brim. His dick always bruising your cervix, giving you a reason to stay in bed for days.

"That's my girl," Miguel hummed as he sat his dick nice and deep inside of you.

You whined in response, reaching out for Miguel to move. He kissed your hands once more before starting his ruthless charade of thrusts. You cried and moaned as the car shook under you. Miguel's cock was slamming into your wet cunt, claiming you as his.

Arching your back as Miguel bullied his cock into you, you cried out a series of moans as you felt your orgasm approach again. Miguel held your hips, slapping himself into you. The sounds of your bodies echoing throughout the small car.

"Keep it in, baby. No messes," Miguel grunted as you came again.

You gasped and shuddered as Miguel changed positions, placing you on top of his lap. His grip was tight on your ass as he made you bounce against his cock. Pressing your chest against his, you whined as Miguel gave you his first load of cum..

"Good girl," Miguel hummed. You rested your head against his chest, your pussy sucking his cock dry,

"D-Don't bully me too much," You whimpered. Miguel stroked your cheek, kissing you deeply,

"I'm just claiming my beautiful prize," He teased, holding your hips as you started bouncing on him again, "Maybe we can make this an every victory reward?"

"Ah~ Mhm~ Y-Yes~" You moaned, panting heavily as you felt drawn into pleasure, "I-I'll reward you....for each win~"

"And if I lose?" Miguel asked, pinching your clit. You cried, cumming against him once more on the spot,

"T-Then...I'll ah~....mhm...c-console you."

"Awe, what did I do to deserve you?" Miguel chuckled, pressing you against his seat before pounding you from behind, "I'll reward you too, baby. You did cheer me on."

"Yes~ Yes!" You cried as Miguel bottomed out inside you, "M-Miguel~" You whimpered.

Miguel chuckled as he pulled out, using his fingers to keep his cum inside your abused cunt. You shivered in response and whined as Miguel put your clothes back on.

"No messes. Keep me inside." He whispered in your ear. You shivered in response and nodded,

"...So...When's the next race?"

"In an hour."

Your face turned bright red as Miguel roared in laughter. He kissed you once more before returning to the driver's seat, making his way back to the event sight. You behaved and sat in the back seat, anticipating his upcoming win.

You just had to make sure not to make a mess in his car.

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

I hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

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ashersanity · 5 months

Note

I need more Yan Bailey content sir. And Briar... Remy... if you write for them...

Let's say PC is working in the brothel, So what type of yanderes are they? Will they even let anyone see PC in those skimpy outifts?

I wonder how contradictory it will be for Briar... (Bonus: Avery will probably go furios mode because it's dragging his reputation down?)

bailey deserves a post of their own, planning a part 2 for the shitty caretaker. Just for you @mellowwillowy. part 1 is here.

Cmon, you knew what you were doing when you requested for Remy.. Wait, no one knows that im a Remy enthusiast, do they? Fuck. Well, here I go then. - @princesstokyomoon :)

SHADY BASTARDS AS YANDERES

asher is on a roll.

content warning! dub-con/non-con, mostly non-con really, mentions of violence, murder, kidnapping, marking, anal play with a bottle?? if that’s even a thing, possessive and abusive behaviour, you know the drill already.

pc and the bastards are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Briar

“Pretty little thing you are, aren’t you? Come to my office, baby. Let’s get you all cleaned up for the show.”

yandere type : sadistic, possessive, manipulative

Somehow always has you sticking by their side whenever you’re not on stage, which they make sure to limit of quite a bit, not wanting their precious little thing wandering off without their watching eyes. It becomes increasingly clear to the other employees that you’re Briar’s favorite, whispering among each other, referring to you as the boss’s bitch, not that it’s all that far off. Oh? Bailey wants you back at the orphanage to pay your dues? Don’t worry, Briar will take care of that. They’d like to talk business with the caretaker anyway, namely about your price. Name it, they’re willing to pay anything for you.

Drastically increases the costs of your shows despite not wanting you to perform. You may be theirs completely, but Briar cannot abandon their principles over cash since money is money for the brothel owner after all. Wants everyone to know that you’re not just some cheap whore. No, you’re fucking Briar’s whore, the one they call in whenever they’re feeling bored, slender finger idly tapping against the cushioned arm of their couch, outstretched arm ready to take in you for another one of your daily sessions. Aren’t you obedient too? Wearing the preferred outfit that they like to see you in. What a doll.

Addicted to having you on their lap, comfortably seated on the brothel owner’s spread thighs, smooth hand resting on your hips while the other is holding a bottle of wine. Of course, considering how they’re a sadistic bastard, doesn’t only involves sweet nothings whispered into the shell of your ear or soothing rubs over your back. You’ll never forget that one time, how they pressed the rim of the bottle against your tight entrance, eyes going wide once you realize what they plan on doing. Smallest of smirks forming on Briar’s usually calm face, throughly enjoying the cute whines that come out of you as they thrust the neck of the glass bottle into your used hole, wine sloshing inside. A real treat that you are.

Never actually shares you. Sure, those bystanders admiring your dancing form as you perform on stage is still a thing though it doesn’t bother them the same way it does whenever a potential customer is reaching for their pockets, waving their wallet. Forbids you from going to them, instead, Briar, the one who usually never steps onto the platform, now joining on stage with you. Makes it clear to everyone that you’re theirs as their hands trail lower over your waist to your hips, lifting up the fabric of your skimpy leotard, giving the others a ‘quick’ peek of the marks they’ve left onto your skin.

There’s no need to know what happened to that one individual who got a feel of your behind on stage, shamelessly groping the soft flesh in the palm of their hand just as Briar is watching. Might’ve resulted in the other’s bodyguards accosting them right then and there, bringing them over to the basement where the real fun happens. Shove them in the hole with ease, ass sticking out for anyone to use as they please and Briar’s sick grin appearing on their lips as they call you over to them as usual. Better keep your lips sealed tight if you know the full story, missing body who has yet to be found, buried deep in the woods. Briar likes to be thorough in their punishments.

Remy

“Look at that, perfect for breeding and milking. Fuck, you’re going to be my fucking star.”

yandere type : obsessive, possessive, overprotective

Keeps you away from the other cattle in the farm, your own personal pen that Remy built just for you, there to satisfy your every single need. Obviously they couldn’t possibly let you be after that one incident, catching one of their workers’s pesky hands gliding over your precious body, seeing red. You, you poor thing, utterly ignorant as you snoozed away, deep in slumber. The farmer wasn’t having any of it, gave that fucker what they deserved, having cleaned themselves off of that distasteful encounter. No one entirely knows what ever truly happened that day and it’s better not to ask around. Remy will simply shut you up with more gifts, your dumb cow mind too foggy to remember much of it anyway.

Tattooed their name on your asscheek, forever imprinting themselves into your flesh. It was done the minute they saw you, a sort of hunger in their eyes, the need to own you, for everyone else to know it. Affectionately traces a gloved finger over their lettering of their name ‘Remy’s bull’ permanently etched on the reddened skin, giving it a playful slap. It comes in useful in certain situations, the other animals and humans knowing to keep away from you as they get a glimpse of your tattoo, not wanting to face the farmer’s wrath by the risk of touching you.

Absolutely does not want you breeding with another cattle. Yeah, they do sort of feel bad when they isolated you in their barn, left with stacks of hay, a warm blanket over your frame and plenty of other supplies to keep you entertained, but it was for the best. Knowing every creature eventually goes into heat one day and so did you, caught you uselessly humping at one of the cows, mounting them even! If it weren’t for Remy that immediately stopped it, who knows what would’ve happen?? They know.. Yes, they know that you’re suffering from being deprived like this and so they’re happy to help, letting you get a feel of what real breeding is like at night, as they return from a long day of working on the fields.

Favours you, giving you special treatment and well, the entire farm is aware of it. Muttering about how you’re the only one who actually gets Remy to smile, their usual stern face and their lips who are meant to be pressed in a straight-line now curling up at the sight of you. Everyone shooting each other weird looks as you nuzzle against the farmer’s hand, demanding for attention and they don’t push you away. Just what the hell kind of trickery is this?? Turning the owner of the underground farm into mush, Wren constantly teasing the other about it, but they just scoff and play it off. As if you don’t have them wrapped around your finger, stupid cow.

Cherishes every single drop of milk that you produce, wherever it’s made from, your genitals or chest. Either way, they’re squeezing it all out of you, making extra sure not to waste a droplet of it as it drips down in the numerous cylinders. Such a prodigy too, milking the copious amount, thick consistency on the verge of spilling out from the plastic containers. You don’t know it though, how Remy succumbs to temptation, mouth watering from your organic milk, pink tongue dipping down to get a taste of it. How fucking sweet it is, they’ve never tasted anything like it, swallowing it all in one go. Actually never puts your products on the market since all of it is sloppily consumed by Remy, greedily lapping across their upper lip.

Avery

“There you are, darling. Looking sweet as ever. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are? My prize.”

yandere type : self-indulgent, impulsive, controlling

Is in charge of everything that you wear, make it known to the town that you’re Avery’s first and foremost, gifted clothes or lacy chokers to place around your neck, the one they like to admire with a well manicured finger. Your closet now consisting solely of the expensive items that they’ve bought for you, stuffed away in the tight confines of the narrow space. It’s better to wear the suit or dress that the businessperson got for you, for they always know when you don’t, frown appearing on their face whenever they see you walk to school with that annoying orphan. What’s their goddamn name, Rowin? Robin?? God, they don’t care, pulling up next to you with their limousine, tinted window rolling down to greet you with a serene smile, completely ignoring the other standing next to you. They’re not worth your attention, you are.

Is the one to pick you up everywhere and they mean, everywhere. School ends, approaching the school gates and luckily not encountering Whitney in the process, met with Avery waiting in their car, telling you to get in. If they can’t manage a car, let’s say, for example because they’re away from town, coming to pick you up instead in a helicopter, ignoring the awed looks that attracts from others. If their rage is low, which you better hope it is, they’re giving you the full prince/princess treatment, treating you like deity even. Whatever you want, they’re here to provide. Oh, you want this new bag that everyone else has at school? They’re already sifting through their thick wallet, handing you the green notes with a pleased smirk. Buy it, doll. It’s their treat.

Would never let you work at the brothel, not on their watch. Are you crazy? It’s not entirely a lie as one would say, that Avery does hire a few whores on certain nights, crumpled bills stashed away in their pockets. Not with you though. You’re different, special, even if they never openly say it. They’ve never been ready to admit but the idea of you going there every Friday night, sleazy hands trailing over your naked body, no their body. The thought makes Avery grind their teeth, sick at the mere suggestion of you even possibly working there. Why would you? They’ll give you everything you need, pay twice, three times, ten fucking times more than Briar could ever share with you. Out of pettiness however, they do bring you over, in front of Briar’s own watchful eyes, possessive hands placed onto your hips. Loves glancing over to catch the brothel owner’s scowling face, watching on as you grind on the businessperson’s crotch.

Traps you in their manor, turning you into their little, obedient maid that’ll follow their every word and order, the one to come to them at a snap of their fingers. A servant needs to look presentable too, don’t you think? Forcing you into some fetishy maid outfit, silky, feminine lingerie regardless of gender, barely hiding the flushed skin beneath. Skirt is so short that you have to remind yourself to pull at the hem, fabric riding up your plush thighs and exposing your bare flesh to Avery’s hungry eyes. They’ll be such a bitch about it too, crotchless panties, putting your hole on display for them to leer at whenever you bend down to pick something up or are busy dusting a corner that’s particular hard to reach. Earns you a smack to the ass, Avery whistling to themselves as they walk off with your shocked, humiliated gaze on them.

Marks you in a.. different manner than the others, more sophisticated they’d call it? It’s subtle at first, hickeys and bite marks left on your collarbone, shoulder blades, inner thighs, places that usually wouldn’t be visible to other people, not unless you’re wearing something revealing which they don’t allow in public. Escalates to your neck, wrists, maybe corner of your lips, your huffed complaints bringing a smirk to their face, claiming that you’ll be forced to wear a turtleneck from now on to hide the evidence of those traces left behind. Why hide it though? It’s there to be flaunted, meant for the town to know, darling. Won’t take it kindly if you ever do try to worm your way out of it, theirs to own, their precious doll. Makes it official once they tuck the leather collar around your neck, tightening it with a click. Look at you, so pretty. Avery’s prized blue ribbon bitch.

Masterlist

[END OF POST]

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usedpidemo · 8 months

Text

Parasailing (Kim Minju & Jo Yuri)

> You're lonely and feel sad because your favorite idols are gone and never upload any pictures in their Instagram. You're really missing them because Minju and Yuri are your favorite underrated ship in Izone. When you decided to drinking alone in tent bar you recognize Minju and Yuri are there having their good time. You're so shy to be at the same place with them and stealing glances. Until you realized that you're drinking with them and told them how you miss them. Because of too much drinking alcohol and being bratty Yuri, she flirt with you and shy Minju try to stop her and after that they are in your place with Yuri kissing you and Minju watching it. being shy but enjoy it. And you fuck bratty Yuri and shy Minju. After that you're kissing their forehead and tell them that your so lucky to be with them and tell them that they are so loveable - @quietfallendemon

—————

There is no other way to put it: you’ve hit rock bottom. You’re down horrendous. It’s a sorry state your family or friends can drag you out of, no matter how hard they try—and that’s if you still have any friends left. In the eyes of randoms, they see a zombie, a soulless husk of a man—one who used to be brimming with life, with nothing but anguish and despair filling his soul now. Each passerby looks on with one of two expressions: concern and pity or apathy and indifference. Some with a little disgust. They’ve got lives to live, obligations to attend to, and some divine purpose given by higher powers to fulfill. So do you, but there’s a difference: you’ve lost the will to live.

Barely functioning, everyday life has turned into a nightmarish hell. Days, then weeks, and eventually months, fly by in a loop. You slog through your office job, receive income, then you carelessly splurge on lavish drinking bursts afterward. Your liver absolutely despises your guts by now. Night after night, you drink away the ceaseless pain hurting your heart more than the alcohol you consume. It’s become too numbing at this point. The morning after, you don’t bother cleaning up the mess you unknowingly made from the day before, especially when you throw up on the floors of your apartment rather than on your toilet.

So it goes. Not a single day passes by without digging your grave a little deeper with your alcohol addiction, but Fridays were particularly special. It’s when you decide that your place shouldn’t bear the brunt of your rampant alcoholism for one day. Instead, after another monotonous shift, you head to your favorite place—your other place of solitude—a tent bar that treats you like their best friend, mainly because you’re their most loyal customer, but otherwise, you enjoy the fresh air, grilled food, and the patrons’ attempts to sing their hearts out—with hilarious results.

Of course, the drinks were also part of the experience. You usually end up passing out quicker compared to every other day.

You’re partially through your first drink when two particularly mesmerizing girls walk in holding hands. Tipsy or not, their beauty immediately captures your attention. Even dressed in all black, they’re shining, like angels descended from heaven to grace this cursed earth, sent to remind people of their higher purpose and walk in them.

Gradually, you’re staring, drooling. Your brain’s in complete shambles, unable to comprehend how divine creatures like them casually walk among mere mortals, partaking in lowly, sinful activities like drinking and hanging out at bars. They take their seats across your table; a perfect position to hold your attention in permanent captivity, without any obstruction.

A waiter approaches the two women, and he should’ve been a distraction, but instead, it becomes a showcase. The girl in the black dress, seated on the left, shoots these playful, childish stares at the waiter, basically flirting with the guy while she stating her order. Her partner is much more reserved, sharing hers in an orderly manner before they’re left to talk with themselves again. The older girl slaps her friend’s shoulder, as if correcting her, which the younger woman simply brushes off with a laugh. From just one interaction, you’re hooked. You had to have her. This night won’t end without their names etched in your head, and if you’re lucky, their number, maybe even more.

Another waiter arrives at your table, bottle in hand, asking if you want a refill, which you absentmindedly decline. You’re drinking in the sight of the two girls, even as they do casual activities while waiting. They’re exchanging conversations, hiding suppressed giggles, but it doesn’t mute the younger woman’s boisterous laughter. It should be a nuisance, but it isn’t; it’s a treat to watch her cheeky, bright personality. Even her friend, whose disposition is a complete contrast, has some charm to her reserved nature, and they bounce off each other seamlessly.

In the midst of this space between you and the girls, someone else is singing karaoke, much to the girls’ amusement. That’s their source of laughter, the very grating voice of that poor soul. Even the older girl’s starting to lighten up, despite repeatedly tapping her friend’s shoulder while she laughs along. Their waiter arrives with their drinks, and they immediately down two glasses each in rapid succession. You’re not even halfway through your first.

“Hey, you think I should try to sing and make these losers second guess about performing next time?” asks the younger girl, staring at the next patron performing on stage.

“Please don’t.” The older woman replies, face flushed bright red from embarrassment. “We shouldn’t make a scene here—”

“C’mon, no one cares. Why are you such a killjoy, Minmin?” she retorts, making a cute pout. Minmin’s dismay is your enjoyment.

“I know you want to sing so bad, Yul. Believe me, you’ll be back on stage soon, but you just have to be patient—”

“Says the loser who hasn’t gotten an acting job, actress!”

You’re amazed Minmin hasn’t tried to physically restrain her—at least, not yet. Instead, she’s dragged along by Yul to the stage so they can perform. The older woman reluctantly follows without any resistance, simply grabbing the mics without any fanfare, not even announcing who they are or what they’ll perform.

The music starts. The girls begin to sing. It’s after the first verse that the pieces begin to come together.

Somehow, this girl, Yul, with her childish attitude, flirty face, and sharp tongue, has the most soulful voice you’ve heard in a very long time. She looks effortless; she runs through each part with minimal strain and her expressions convey the emotion of the ballad very well. Minmin isn’t far off either, but her vocal does not hold a candle to Yul’s. If they were bar singers, you’d be cursing at the earth giving these two unfortunate circumstances, because such talent shouldn’t be constrained to the confines of an open bar. These two are truly angels.

When the song ends, Yul reverts to her mischievous persona, shooting winks and flying kisses at the audience as she walks off the stage, followed by her best friend, shyly bowing at every turn. After returning to their seats, the younger woman’s wearing this prideful, triumphant expression on her lips, basking in the glory, eager to gloat. Minmin’s nervously smiling, still gently bowing at everyone while cutely gesturing with her hands in a plea to make everyone stop.

Then it’s business as usual at the tent bar again. Copious drinking, out of pitch singing, and you mindlessly staring at the girls that it’s outright criminal.

Until the thought finally hits.

“Yul…Minmin…Yuri…Minju,” you silently mouth. Your eyes suddenly widen, and the realization finally dawns on you.

At first, it was a complete coincidence. They looked too similar to be truly them, that it’s a convincing impersonation or face job at best. The real evidence was in their vocals. They sounded too similar, close to a near-perfect impression. You’ve never heard such divine singing in a very long time, and now it's clear why.

Jo Yuri and Kim Minju performed for you.

The day they disappeared just so happened to be the same day your life began to fall apart. While they’re out here living their best lives and enjoying their down time, you were at your lowest, your breaking point. Some part of you understands they bear no blame; it’s fate, an inevitability of any temporary group. Yet, no matter how much you prepared for the end, you couldn’t endure the loss. The other members have successfully transitioned to their new careers, whether it be in new groups or even solo, but those two—Minju and Yuri— essentially went off the radar. They barely posted on Instagram, so you couldn’t even keep up with them on a consistent basis like their former members. Their last shared photos were eight months ago. Minimal social media messages, even fewer magazine shoots or advertisements, and no music, movie, or show to get excited about.

To see them together again not only brings nostalgia, but also revives your sense of purpose again.

Every girl in that group was special, but in your eyes, Minju and Yuri were different. Yuri had her standout vocals, Minju with her divine beauty, but you loved them beyond those traits; you loved everything about them. You promised you’d support their endeavors after disbandment, but so far, there was nothing to support. Their absence from the spotlight hurt you more than it hurt them. The worst part is the realization that you’ll likely never see them after tonight, that you can’t do anything to convince them to further their careers—to do something. After all, you wanted them both to thrive like their other members.

Of course, you can’t approach them casually. You’ll probably melt into a puddle mere steps away. So you whip out your phone and take rapid-fire photos. It’s dangerous, but fuck it, this is a once in a lifetime scene. They’re preoccupied with their drinks and conversation to notice your camera. You gather a gallery that will sustain you for months, even if they disappear from the public eye again. At first, you’re delighted, overjoyed even, but the immediate realization clouds your mood.

You sigh. You put your phone down, staring at the twosome once again, but this time, with a yearning desire. They’re within your grasp. Uncertain of the future, you slowly reach out with your hand, imagining a scenario where you pour your heart out to them—how you missed them so badly, how much their disappearance has affected you, and how you’ll wait for them till eternity, even if realistically, you’ll break long before that no matter how long it takes for them to make a song, be in a movie or show, anything. Sure, this all sounds ridiculous, alarmingly disturbing, and should be shared with a therapist instead of two celebrities, but to you, no one would understand more than Minju and Yuri can.

When you draw your hand back, Minju’s eyes are locked right at yours. She’s gently smiling and waving back. Yuri notices her gesture, recognizes you, and waves along with greater energy. The younger idol giggles at you. She catches you in a moment of weakness, cheeks puffed up and tensely flushed. The two girls exchange a brief glance, Yuri’s eyes alight with a new opportunity to cause more mischief, smirking at her, essentially screaming that no one, not even Minju, can stop her.

Yuri cocks her head to the side, shoots you a wink, a flying kiss, sticks out her tongue; she flirts with a tinge of both cuteness and sexiness that heightens her attraction—and awakens a bit of your lust. Minju facepalms, awkwardly chuckling, wanting no part in this act. You’re left frozen, in awe at how unabashedly coy she is. She was the resident brat, but now she’s taken her friskiness to a whole new level. Proving your point, she pulls the strap of her dress down, teasing, expression mocking, quietly mouthing, “I know you want it.” Just as shocked as you, her friend’s eyes widen, her hand covering her mouth before tapping Yuri’s shoulder, telling her to stop. Surprisingly, she complies obediently, pulls her thin strap back up.

Hopefully, no one else besides you saw that.

Averting their gaze for a moment, you take a moment to let the small interaction sink in. You got more than you bargained for: a serenade, a gallery’s worth of photos, and flirty fanservice from your favorite idols. Perhaps this is what you needed to finally bring yourself out of your self-inflicted funk and back to normalcy. Maybe this is what you really need all along: closure. They won’t be in your life moving forward, but your fond memories of them are always there to look back on, and you’re grateful for the joy they provided you during those difficult times.

When you look back up, Minju and Yuri have disappeared from the table across yours; they’re directly seated right in front of you. They’re carefully watching your every move, Yuri’s expression brazen as ever, constantly searching for opportunities to pick you apart, and Minju, her enabler, despite the light admonitions and warnings, shyly following her junior’s eyes. All it takes is one turn before it spirals into a car crash of disastrous proportions.

Thankfully, you’re not the one to break the ice. “Sup,” says Yuri, casually feigning innocence. Your lips move in the shape of hello, but only air comes out. They’ve seen this reaction from fans hundreds of times.

“Hello,” adds Minju, sweetly smiling, as pure as her brightly lit face. “Did you enjoy our little performance?”

It takes a minute—maybe four—before an answer forms in your head. You’ve seen them from afar, you’ve seen them up close, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine them talking to you on an intimate level. They’re patient, softly giggling over how overwhelmed and speechless you are to respond back. Anyone else in that space would react the same way; you don’t need to move your neck around to feel the jealousy from your fellow patrons. You’re not only carrying your own burdens, but the expectations of others.

“Yeah.” The word comes out natural, without second thought, while your thoughts are focused on them and them alone. Fuck, their skin looks flawless, is your sole noteworthy observation. Even if you had the full capacity to think coherently, you’d end up with this exact same answer.

“We missed performing on stage, so we felt that it would be nice to go up and—” Minju pauses, repeatedly turning to her friend, silently observing you, trying her best to look diplomatic. “Sing a little bit. We were a little nervous, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“Well, why haven’t you done that?” you ask, the nervous smile on your features gradually shifting to a frown.

“Done what?”

Leaning forward, the stare you shoot is sharp, cold. “You haven’t been on Instagram in months. Both of you. The other members have been on TV, they’ve been releasing music, they’ve been doing photoshoots, they’re in commercials. They’re being successful, but you—” You pause, aware of your surroundings, trying your hardest not to make a scene. “Where the hell have you been?”

Both girls’ reactions split down the middle as your temper flares ever slightly. Yuri leans back into her chair, turns to her friend, surprised by the sudden shift in tone, anxious of what happens now. Minju remains calm, gently rubs her hand on hers, reassuring her.

She takes a moment to formulate a response. “It’s been harder than we thought.”

“How come?”

Another pause. Minju sighs pondering the thought. “You have no idea how much we want to perform, you know. Believe us. We really tried. I’ve auditioned for a few big name projects, got a few scripts from some web dramas. They were glorified cameos at best. You don’t know how painful it is to see the news that someone else got the role in those big projects—”

Yuri nods in agreement, equally as dejected. She adds, “They promised me I’d debut soon. They never specified exactly when. They have this boy group I’ve written songs for, they debuted and made two comebacks already with another one lined up in a few months. I’ve written and recorded so many songs that I absolutely want to perform. Waiting this long, I—”

Yuri pauses, then sighs. Her eyes are glassy.

“I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore.”

The revelation pierces through your heart like an arrow. It’s heartbreaking. Unbelievable, hearing it directly from their mouths. You simply cannot believe they’re struggling when everyone else has been able to successfully continue their careers. Even shittier agencies recognize the treasure they have and at least try to make something happen, but this is completely absurd. It sounds too painful to be true.

Only one word can perfectly describe it. “How?”

“We honestly don’t know.” Minju replies, solemn, downtrodden, defeated. “We might just give up, honestly. Our management won’t do anything to help us. Maybe our time in the spotlight is just meant to be short-lived.”

You remember the rumblings from a while back, how Minju was scouted and offered a seven-figure deal to join her other members in Le sserafim. She declined. In retrospect, she could have saved her career and two months’ worth of migraines with what eventually became a disastrous debut. Fuck, even the thought of seeing her with Sakura and Chaewon together in that alternate reality sparks your imagintion.

“You should have taken that deal, Minju. You really should have.” You put it to her straight, almost mocking, very damning, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

She sighs through the thought, completely despondent. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The mood is cold, grim. Alcohol releases your most intrusive thoughts, no matter how harsh or intimate they sound. That isn’t to say you don’t regret them; you’ll ponder the consequences in the morning, as usual. At the very least, you find common ground with your two favorite idols, drinking it up through life’s challenges as a coping mechanism.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly blurt. “I—I just really miss you both on screen.”

“It’s all right,” adds Minju, trying to form a smile through the pain. Seeing the vulnerability in her eyes makes the gesture even more heartbreaking. “I’m just glad you’re still waiting for us. That anyone still wants us.”

“God, you can’t imagine the jealousy I feel whenever I see the others nowadays and immediately wonder what are you doing. I mean, I don’t hate them, I just—”

“Oh, I understand that feeling very well,” Minju replies, her grin slowly widening, suppressing a chuckle. Yuri takes the bottle on your side to pour a drink on your cup, which she also steals. “We still keep contact and they’re also asking what the fuck are we even doing.”

“Look on the bright side, they don't have time to have fun these days, am I right?” Yuri interrupts, followed by boisterous laughter from her. Minju tries, but gloom gets in the way. You try to laugh, but it hurts to laugh right now, among a multitude of other feelings, particularly, pain, despair, and regret.

“Well, it’s not been fun for me ever since you’ve been gone,” you say.

You slip your phone concealed behind your hand, slide it across the table. The two women smile at what’s on screen; it’s memories from their past. It’s a treasure trove of funny, embarrassing, and endearing captures that border on obsession. If they didn’t know any better, you’d certainly be under a restraining order after seeing the bogus gallery saved on your phone.

“Damn, we looked quite cute,” says Yuri, scrolling between pictures. Their heads inch a little closer, while their free fingers trace around each other’s edges.

“Yeah.” Minju lightly nods. “I’m glad we still have each other, even now.”

The older woman slides the phone back to you. Two pairs of eyes gaze at you, both with piqued interest, but Yuri’s eyes widen, with much bigger intentions in mind.

“We really appreciate that you’re still waiting for us,” adds Minju, humble in tone and demeanor as ever. “Just give us your order tonight. It’s all on us.”

You’re briefly taken aback. Even with your sorry state, you feel as if you don’t deserve to be rewarded. Panickedly, you shake your head, “No—no—please don’t. It’s all right, I’ll pay for my own—”

“We insist; please let us take care of you tonight,” Minju interjects. Yuri glances at her, intrigued by her answer, as a new idea dawns upon her.

“Yeah, you should listen to her,” the younger girl adds, returning her gaze at you with a smirk. “Let us handle it.”

That was your first mistake.

—————

Actually, the first mistake was focusing on them to begin with, and the second was allowing them to close the space in your heart.

Yuri leads the way back to your apartment and is the first one in; that’s when you realize the mess you’ve gotten yourself in—both literally and figuratively. Empty food packs and spilled beer bottles make up most of the litter that fills every room in your once decent flat. It makes you look even worse than you already are. Mentally you’re apologizing, growing more flustered as your two uninvited guests explore your place. Minju’s been reserved the entire time that the expression she makes is nearly indistinguishable, even though her mouth gradually slacks seeing the shitshow you’ve been living in for a while.

“Your place is really cute!” Yuri knocks off some of the mess on the living room table before hopping on the desk, completely disregarding the wet puddle that now stains her black dress.

Minju’s mouth opens, but not a single word is uttered. It’s no longer her problem.

It’s yours.

“I hope you don’t mind us hanging out for a bit,” she says, and you’re not opposed to the notion in the slightest. Anything to liven up your place.

You and Minju leave Yuri by herself on the desk—for now. From across the table is the only piece in the apartment left untouched. Dusty, but unsullied. It’s a shelf filled with merch, albums, and group pictures.

“You took this?” She reaches her hand out to a particular photo, a framed picture of her and Yuri doing fanservice during one of their concerts. You quietly nod.

She smiles wider at the shot. “Would you like me to sign it?”

As you’re about to reply, Yuri swoops in between you both, tired of being ignored for at least five minutes.

“Hey! What are you doing—” she notices the framed picture, disrupting her train of thought. “Ooh! I remember this! We look cute here, Minmin!” Without any consideration, the younger girl snatches the framed photo from her friend.

“Can we keep this?”

“No.” Minju tries to take the photo back, but Minju brushes her away. “That’s his photo, you can’t just—”

“I’ll buy it for lots of money!”

“Stop! No amount of money can buy the sentimental value it has. Just give it back.”

“But money can’t buy this pussy though.” Yuri lifts the bottom of her dress, teasing her panties. Minju immediately pushes it back down.

“Yuri!”

“What?” Yuri asks, lips pouting, tone innocent, as if unaware of the stunt she just pulled off. “You know how horny these fanboys are.” Turning to you, she reaches the photo out for you to reclaim. “Your choice.”

There’s no resistance when you take the photo back and return it from the shelf. Yuri’s hands are itching to grab at her dress again, as if daring you to prove her point. Minju’s on edge, on the cusp of bailing, ready to take her friend with her before this messy situation leads to something worse. It’s a little tense, the mood a little suffocating, and none of you are able to make the best judgment calls.

“Sorry,” mutters Minju, now holding her friend’s hand. “I’m really sorry about that. We should leave—”

“No you’re not—” Yuri blurts out, before Minju places her other hand on her mouth, visibly irate by her malicious behavior.

“It’s all good,” you mumble, still fixated on the very notion that they’re in your apartment. One way or another, you want them to stay a little longer. And then you make your next mistake. “I mean, in all honesty, it’s about time I should get rid of these. Like I said before, I haven’t been able to move on, but you two are getting by just fine.”

“Right.” Minju’s gaze is sympathetic, enchanting, endearing—everything that reminds you of simpler times. The thought dawned on you at times, when you really considered burning it all—no, not even considering selling it to more sensible people—but actually burning the bridge connecting you and them. Though you say you want to move on, you understood it would haunt you for the rest of your life if you actually followed through with such an impulsive decision. “But you shouldn’t.”

Yuri pushes Minju’s hand off her. “I think you just need a little pussy. It’s not that deep.”

“Yuri!” Minju faces her with an even more annoyed glare.

“Maybe you’re right,” you blurt, capturing the girls’ attention. “I’m not free of sin, I do think you’re hot. Both of you.”

“Told you.” Yuri gloats, shaking her other hand free of Minju’s grip. She then approaches you, caresses your shoulders up to your cheek, lightly brushing the sides of your hair. “Tell me: am I the most fuckable member of the group?”

Knowing that Yuri has won, Minju stops trying to intervene. Admittedly, it was, in fact, Minju you thought was the most fuckable, and that’s no easy feat in such a stacked group, but to appease her, you nod.

“Come here,” murmurs Yuri, her fingertips rubbing around your chin as she drags you down for a sinful, deep kiss. Your fingers thread on her dress, the very same one she threatened to pull, now in your possession to grip. Her leg wraps around your hip as she pulls you closer, yearning for more of you, at the expense of your balance. It’s all falling into place, close to falling apart.

Then she says the two words that ultimately end you.

“Fuck me.”

And that’s when everything breaks.

You both end up in your bedroom, pushing Yuri onto the mattress, then hastily ridding yourself of your clothes: tie, coat, and shirt in that order. She kicks off her heels, smirking, tongue sticking out—teasing you with glimpses of her legs, panties, and pussy as you struggle to push down your pants. I know you want it, she mouths, and you’re inadvertently nodding in agreement. From the onset, you knew her dress wouldn’t come off on its own; she’s challenging you to rip it off her body, which you had every intention to do.

Your pants are still halfway down your legs when you join her in bed, completely removed after you shake the now useless heap off your feet. Yuri pulls you while you’re still approaching her for another passionate kiss. She recognizes your desire to undress her just as quickly, too. From lips to lips, she lightly brushes you down, your lips landing on her chin, neck, and collarbones. Your hand tries to grab a piece of her clothing; she parries your every attempt at her dress.

“You won’t make this easy, will you?” you say, aware of her daunting challenge but worked up regardless.

“Of course,” replies Yuri, visibly smug, getting amusement from riling people up. She rolls to the side and wraps her arms around your waist in a tight embrace. Kissing your forehead, she adds, “Show me how bad you wanna fuck me.”

It’s the right combination of seductive words, tone, and taunting demeanor that causes you to wrestle control over her. Reciprocating her kiss to your forehead, you return the favor, whisper an equally filthy reply that makes her squirm with excitement. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy so hard. Gonna fucking wreck you.”

“Try me.”

You slip both straps of her dress down her arms, enough to reveal her round, perky breasts without any cleavage. Without any further hesitation you keep going; nose, lips, neck, down to her chest—you leave a sloppy trail of bite marks, not even kisses in your wake. Yuri shuts her eyes, whines, folds like a deck with your arousing touch. Her body’s feeding your aching, hungry soul better than any meal ever could.

If it were up to you, and if it was in your capacity, the rest of her garment would be ripped in half through your teeth. Instead, they’re bunched up halfway around her waist, with the bottom half pushed up with your hand as you take hold of her panties. Digging your fingers between them, she winces, groans sympathetically, as your thumb presses on her folds, twisting her legs between yours uncomfortably. A single touch informs you that she’s wet at her core, aching, throbbing. She told you it wouldn’t be this easy; you’ll make sure it stays that way.

“Goddamn, Yuri. This wet already and I’m barely getting down with what I wanna do with you,” you mumble, your thumb lightly nudging against her folds. She’s trembling, breathing rapidly, fingers now gripped on the edge of your sheets, unable to keep still, her lips forming incoherent babbles. Add your other hand in the equation, take a handful of her chest, palm it around your grip for you to play with. It doesn’t do much that already overwhelms her senses, but her flesh is so squeezable, so malleable, so delicate to grasp, it becomes almost impossible to let go.

You dig your fingers around Yuri’s clit, her hips slowly grinding in tandem with your efforts to pleasure her. Her thighs involuntarily spread, providing more space for your fingers to be swallowed up by the tightness of her folds. With each pump and withdrawal, your digits are coated in copious amounts of slick. The sensations in her aching core pull your hand in like a magnet, allowing you to indulge in the erotic sight of Yuri quaking, screaming, tossing her head back beneath you.

“Yes, yes, yes—keep going—fuck—” Yuri makes her blissful cries loud and clear, enough for your neighbors to hear, way past any subtlety. Maintaining a steady rhythm fingering the mewling woman, you move your other hand back and forth between her shapely breasts, squeezing and kneading them, your eyes inching closer with each ripple, bounce, and jiggle. Something about the way she melts with every move you make on her slowly drives you wild, your mind racing with countless sinful desires you’ve been quietly suppressing ever since you first laid your eyes on them.

If not for how addicting it is to feel her soft flesh in your hand, it’d be hardening your cock right now. Doesn’t matter; you’ve been slowly gliding your legs, positioning yourself directly atop her, your bulge aching against her thighs, yearning for her skin. Can’t grow too comfortable, even as she squirms, yelps, writhes beneath your grasp. She adjusts, becomes acclimated to your fingers as it draws more slick, airily begging for more. Even before she considers the thought, you’re one step ahead of her, quickening your pace, generating a sloppy, satisfying sound while she leaks on your sheets.

You’re losing it, reveling in this newfound power you have over Yuri, that her orgasmic screams of pain and pleasure go overlooked. It isn’t clear whether she wants you to keep going or to stop. Your fingers never relent, even while she makes a quivering mess of your bedsheets and wetting your thigh and boxers. Eventually, you withdraw your digits from her torrentially drenched cunt. Another sticky waterfall drips on already inundated sheets. She can’t stop cumming. She doesn’t want to stop, body willing.

Yuri tosses her legs around, weak legs still violently trembling from her orgasm. The room returns to its usually quiet setting—except the gentle sound of sloppy flesh lingers. A bit quieter, more subdued, but your ears recognize a familiar sound.

Oh, right.

Somehow, you completely overlooked Minju’s presence. While you were focused on pleasuring Yuri, she had quietly leaned against the bedroom door, one of her hands following yours to that same pleasurable spot, watching with glazed eyes, enjoying the sight of her friend getting her rightful punishment. An unforgivable offense, but anyone else in your position would have done the same thing, especially when a half naked Yuri’s offering herself up on your bed.

“I was expecting you to go all the way,” she drawls, breathing heavily between words. She doesn’t care that your eyes are looking down, following her hand deep between her underwear hypnotically. “I hate to say it, but I was feeling a little jealous of her.”

Without a word, you quickly slide down her already unzipped jeans, her panties to follow. Holding her active hand, you draw it away from her core, your eyes intertwined in a passionate gaze. Time slows to a crawl. Your lips inches apart from sparking another fire. The whole time you’ve known her, she’s been quiet, reserved, nervous to make a move—that she’d ask you seven times before finally going for whatever move she wants to make.

She pulls you for a deep kiss, her other hand tugging down your wet boxers. Pressing your weight against hers, she strokes your hard cock, rubs it against her aching core, moans seductively in your ear. You’re biting down on her neck, collarbones, anything that marks her, tells the world you fucked her. Your hands latch onto her hourglass shaped waist, lightly pushing her on the bedroom door, lightly taking her off the ground without any grace, her skin another addiction to ruin your life.

Kissing down her clothed chest, you make quick work of her off-shoulder shirt before you dive back into her perfect body. Minju whimpers and whines,her nails digging into your back as you peck your way toward her core. She feels so right in your grasp; her ridiculous proportions, her slender legs, her unreal navel that warrants a prolonged kiss—everything about Kim Minju’s body was meant to be worshiped. She brings you to your knees, down to your lowest. It was easy to ruin Yuri, but this is something far beyond your level.

How do you deserve something like this?

Looking between her spread legs, you contemplate the thought. Minju’s achingly wet, just like her younger friend. She regains a little composure and realizes you’re on your knees, frozen in place. The graceful and patient woman she is, she gently caresses your cheek, forcing you to meet her gentle gaze. “Take me. Even just for tonight, I’m yours.”

Her lips draw yours like a magnet. Minju breaks eye contact at the first touch, moaning as your tongue familiarizes itself with her deliciously soft folds. Her head repeatedly thumps against the door with a thud, Digging your hands on her thighs, you’ve got Minju exactly where you want her to be: wrapped around your head in a suffocating lock. It doesn’t matter that your words come out as corrupted babble; your tongue is doing all the talking, and it loves her pussy.

“That’s it, that feels so good.” She rubs her hands on your hair, gradually shifting into a grip of the back of your skull as you acclimate to her velvety walls. “Doesn’t fucking me feel better than Yuri does?”

You’ll make your final comparison when you’re done with them both. For now, you’re focused on devouring Minju’s cunt, or dying by thigh asphyxiation—whichever comes first. Her approving moans encourage you, as if you needed any further motivation, and even if you lacked the desire, which is a completely absurd thought, her legs are there to make sure you drink up till she has nothing left.

Her juices taste so sweet, so divine, that even if your tongue dries up, you'd still be relentlessly eating her out. Soon enough, your tongue digs through every sensitive nerve and spot, setting every nerve in Minju’s body on fire. Little by little, you’re chipping away at her dainty facade. Her volume and pitch rises and rises; her grip on your hair and face tightens further. She’s exactly like her friend: a screaming mess that loves getting fucked.

There’s no tempo, no constant pace in the manner you take Minju—only a need to devour. Her patience knows only one thing too: the reward of an inevitable climax. She’s slowly grinding her hips against your face, pulling you further into her wrecked folds. It’s too fast and too sudden; you’re amazed at how she’s this alarmingly drenched—

“Fuck!”

Minju cries out, pulling you harshly by the hair, turning your face into a canvas of sticky nectar. From your vantage point, her eyes are slammed shut, mouth agape, stuck in suspended animation while her body violently trembles, even shaking your foundations. She’s completely lost in the high of her release, basking in the powerful sensations washing over her. As the lewd scene plays out, your tongue eagerly gathers up her juices. It overflows, drips down your chest and spills all over the floor even when you carry her to bed, flippantly tossing her beside her freshly fucked friend.

You take a breather to taste them both at once. Euphoric.

—————

The sight in front of you is enough to make you cum. Your two favorite members splayed on your bed, at their barest, in a state of coming undone because of your handiwork. And you still haven’t put your dick inside either of them. Deciding which one to slide your cock in first is a life or death decision. You’ll make your choice after you flip them on their backs.

You’re stroking your cock as you join the two girls on the bed, your other hand caressing Minju and Yuri’s skin back and forth, grabbing a pair of handfuls of ass. Time is a nonfactor; you’ve got all night to do every fantasy you’ve imagined with them, yet they’re still reeling from their initial orgasms, taking longer to recover.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” you whisper against Minju’s back, adding emphasis with each word, send a shiver all over her spine. Yuri feels every word too. “I dream about this exact scenario often. You, completely naked on your back, as I fuck you and cum all over this hot pussy from behind—” you follow, before you’re overcome by the urge to kiss her shoulder. It’s better than whatever dreams you’ve conjured up, because it’s real. You rub your cock against Minju’s folds, and it’s an immaculate sensation that not even your imagination can conjure up.

The tension hardly stretches for more than a few precious moments. Even without words, you understood they were impatient, and so were you. Deep in your gut, there’s a fear that if you wasted a little more time, this once in a lifetime opportunity will disappear in a blink of an eye.

“Fuck.” Minju’s pussy feels so incredibly tight, you never want to pull out from the uncertainties of tomorrow. It’s all the more intense when you draw yourself out, then thrust back in, watch as your cock enters and exits her cunt at a steady tempo. The bed gently rocks in harmony with your motion, moving like the ticks of a clock. The longer you fuck her, the longer the fantasy remains.

You grab her by the shoulder, by the waist, by her hair. Any part you haven’t marked red, you see red. Minju remains motionless, body lightly rippling, reduced to a groaning heap with each stroke. In this prone position, she’s nothing but a toy for your pleasures. You’re dominating her. You can tell she hasn’t taken dick this hard in a long time by her rising tone. You have plenty of filthy things to say, but you’ll let your hips do all the talking for you.

She feels so fucking good, so fucking hot.

It only seems appropriate that you almost lose yourself in Minju’s heat when suddenly, Yuri cries out for you. “Please.”

You don’t relent. Instead, by instinct, your pace quickens. Snaking your hand on her shoulder, you inch closer to Minju’s head, gently nibbling her ear. “God, Minju, you’re such a delightful fucktoy. So much easier to handle than your friend.”

Yuri’s hand reaches out to yours, and it snaps you from your lust-fueled haze. Her eyes sparkle under the dim light, cutely whimpering, “Fuck me please.”

Can’t hide the smirk on your face after she pleads. You face her, relentlessly pounding into Minju’s pussy, to prove a point. Assert control. You know she has no power over you. You’re threatening to undo yourself before she even gets a hint of mercy.

“I’m yours too,” says Yuri, looking penitent, even though in reality, this was her plan. “You said you were my favorite too, right? Please.”

Something about cutie Yuri tugs at your heartstrings. Cruel as you are, you’ve still got a soft spot. Maybe you fold this easily for cute girls like her. Maybe you’re not as assertive as you’ve projected yourself.

Your shadow hovers atop her. You have a hand gripped on her throat, your wet, hard cock lining against her slick folds. “Brat.”

There’s a subtle smile when you say the word. Her title. Her claim to fame. No matter how submissive she may act, deep down she’s a true brat and prides herself as one. A point made deeper when you impale her pussy with your cock. She screams—a sharp contrast to the subdued Minju. A way to make her point.

“Deeper! Harder! Fuck me hard!” Her voice comes out strained due to your palm firmly pressed on her neck. You lift her slightly upward, snake your suffocating hand down to her breast. Soft, pillowy flesh you squeeze, claim as yours. You’re crooning against her neck while adjusting to her equally hot tightness. Her pleasured-wracked face sticks a rebellious tongue out, darting in your direction as her hand frisks your torso. “You know deep down I’m a better fuck than her—fuck!”

She yelps, falls down to earth without grace. Her hands press on the sheets as you fuck her—ravage her pretty little cunt. No tempo, no slow burn, only raw, unadulterated pounding. Your palm tightly presses her tit, twists her face into even more lewd, unbearable pleasure. The words she has are lost, turned into deafening screams that echo throughout the room. “So! Fucking! Deep!”

It’s sinful, it’s hot, it’s perfect. You have her exactly where you want, propped on all fours as you mindlessly fuck her into submission, hands roaming her chest, her waist, her ass, lips kissing her shoulders and neck. She’s reduced to nothing but a high pitched mess; God, you’re sure everyone knows you’ve got Jo Yuri in bed now. Oh well. You’ve got a story to tell over coffee break on Monday.

It’s only when you force yourself to stop—and this is no easy feat—that she quiets down. Your cock is upset; you’ve edged yourself inside their hot pussy twice now, you can’t keep yourself in limbo forever, among other possible implications. The thought of protection never really bubbled up until this point, but you’re so far gone, far past the point of no return.

You’ll play with fate a little more before leaving yourself in its unpredictable hands.

The tango goes back and forth; Minju then Yuri, in that order, a few minutes at a time, which stretches into hours. You’ve twisted them in positions you fantasized and beyond your imagination, fucking both former idols till your cock can no longer bear with you. So when you have to make that fateful decision, it’s merely an illusion. Even as they make their deepest pleas for you to claim what’s rightfully yours, you reject the notion and take your own path.

It only seems right that the share of warm load is spread over their toned stomachs. In the aftermath of your long overdue orgasm, you fall back and wonder if it was the right decision. Initially, their faces are shaken with disbelief, utterly shocked that for once, the fan never came inside either of them, before all three of you eventually succumbed to their soreness and exhaustion.

—————

By some miracle, you’re standing on your two feet, holding onto Minju’s shoulders as she turns on the shower. Running water gushes over all three of you as it flows down your bodies without moving with the intended purpose of cleaning yourselves up. The older woman tilts her head at an angle where your lips find solace in her collarbones, gently pecking her skin—not the rough, sloppy lovemaking you’d been doing for the past hour, but intimate, sentimental love. She eventually turns around to rub her hand across your entangled arm, sharing in your warmth. Yuri hugs you from behind, her arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling her head against your back like her favorite pillow. It’s your innermost desires at its most raw, fully realized.

You feel content. You feel grateful.

The same three words repeat in your mouth over and over, spaced between the occasional kiss to both idols, deeply imprinting how much they mean to you. “I love you. I love you.”

You barely scrub each other for over ten minutes before you leave the shower. The two girls crash back into your bed after a rushed effort to dry up, completely overlooking their wet hair. You quietly follow, putting yourself in the center as your two biases instinctively wrap an arm around you, the now quiet mood in the room a far cry from the loud mess it was when you first entered. The last image saved in your head is Yuri’s gentle smile, her finger reaching out to brush away a little strand of hair before you all eventually pass out from exhaustion.

You’ve never been in a better position to die happier.

—————

The morning after is the first after a long time that you don’t feel like complete shit.

The room reeks of sex—a smell that will permeate for a long, long time. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you’re in no rush to put on your typical office wear. Minju and Yuri are long gone, and so is any trace of their presence in your apartment, except the lingering scent of last night’s activities. Just like that, life goes on.

Mostly.

The day after, you’ve tidied up most of your apartment. By Monday, to the surprise of your employer, you start working past the usual 9-to-5. He makes a little comment about your sudden change of heart walking past your cubicle. “You’re usually the first one out.”

The snarky remark goes overlooked, mostly because you’re preoccupied with thoughts of Minju and Yuri, as usual. You drown yourself in monotonous officework with the purpose of collapsing once you go home. It works. You’d rather be anywhere but home or holding a bottle.

A week passes. Rumblings of your character development spread like wildfire around the workplace, but you pay no heed to it. Friday arrives, and it pains you to hear that you’re not allowed to work overtime hours because of their employee friendly policy. Your mates invite you for a night at some club downtown, but you decline. Some part of you clings to the little hope that they might be there tonight.

The place is mostly empty, save for a few early patrons. You’ve got all night and the weekend, but you didn’t have to wait very long.

As soon as you put your menu down, ready for dinner, the two women have taken seats right in front of you. No words necessary, only warm, easy smiles.

You smile back. “Is this going to be our thing now?”

Now armed with dangerously alluring blonde hair, Yuri briefly kisses you, followed by an inviting smirk shared with Minju that tells you everything you need to know. “We hope your weekend schedule is empty. We have so much in store for you.”

—————

(A/N: I really love fan x idol stories, so this particular one hits all the right notes for me. Apologies once again for taking too long, this was supposed to be done when Taxi dropped (great comeback, go stream!). It's amazing to see Yuri potentially hitting it big globally with her Squid Game 2 casting news, here's hoping Minjobless can find big roles in movies and dramas as well! She deserves it. Thank you for reading!)

(PS: College started up again and I'm drowning in intensive research and assignments, oof. Currently, the only day I have free time is Sunday, since I have school stuff six of the seven days of the week. Expect more lengthy gaps of this magnitude between fics. Additionally, the Pokémon DLC is coming out real soon, which definitely will occupy my spare time more. However, this will change sometime around mid-to-late September, so here's hoping I can get a few more fics out for you. Appreciate you as always <3)

#smut #kpop smut #jo yuri #kim minju #minju #yuri

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kimberly-spirits13 · 7 months

Text

SFW Fluff Alphabet w/ Jason Todd

A= How affectionate are they

he's like a teddy bear and wants to cuddle all the time

he always wants a kiss or a hug and wants you to know how much he loves you

Jason's affection knows no bounds- he makes sure that you feel great and are doing perfect and that everything in life is alright

Cold? He's got a hoodie and a blanket. Sad? He's a leather shoulder to cry on. Happy? He's happy too

he likes to be touching at any moment

On patrol you're rubbing shoulders and he's as close to you as possible without straight up hugging you, he's got a hang on your back, hand on your thigh, he's got both hands holding your hands, you two link pinkies, his hand is in your hair, his hand is on your cheek, any form of touch

B= Bond- What do you bond over

Jay really, really likes reading so if you're into reading, he wants to talk about it a lot

if you're not a reader, well surprise, you are now

hearing him talk so highly of his books makes you want to read, just so you can talk to him more about them

He likes to work on his bike and clean his weapons so if you're down to help him, he'd be so excited

if you also have a tragic backstory, get ready to trauma dump with each other

he's got a deep respect for those who have lived through terrible tragedies and are still functioning members of society (even if it's partial functioning)

C= Cuddles- How do they cuddle

Cuddle monster

like it's cheesy but it's how you describe him

he also loves sleeping on top of you with his head buried in your neck or using your chest as a pillow and he's got his arms wrapped tightly around you

he likes to be the big spoon since he finds it uncomfortable for someone his sized to be cuddled lol

he's a giant so just let him tuck you into his chest and snooze away

he likes to cuddle in minimal clothing sometimes, not in a sexy way but in a he really likes having you close to him at all times

plus, he's a space heater so it's not like you're going to get cold

D= Domestic- What are they like domestically

he loves being domestic

you two have a nice medium sized apartment with a guest room or two and your bedroom and an office maybe with a big kitchen and living room and a washer and dryer room

He makes bank on that criminal mastermind gig

Plus, if you're working, it helps being dual income

He really likes cleaning around the house and you think it's a stress reliever for him

there are temporary dance breaks during cleaning and he likes to dip you down and kiss you to whatever song is playing- he secretly finds it adorable when you dance on his feet and he will not complain, but don't tell a soul deary

he really really really likes to cook too

Your place always smells like a master piece and Jason really likes going to William Sonoma

it's the fanciest place that he will willingly go to

E= Ego- How much do they think about themselves in a relationship

He's got boundaries like a normal human being, but the dude is really selfless

Jason just wants everything to be alright and he is able to make compromises where they need to be made

the one thing that he really, really cares about is making sure that his weapons, bike, helmet, and things are all in check

I wouldn't recommend going around and messing with anything unless you have to

Like he's not going to be mad at you, but Jason just prefers that that stuff gets left alone unless specifically told otherwise

F= Fights- How are they during and after fights

fights are few and in between but when they happen, they happen

it's not really ever over anything small because you can quickly just talk it out with Jason

if it's over something like a mission or safety or doing something reckless, it's a big fight

he doesn't yell, he hates yelling at you, but his eyes go dark and he's so angry

he's probably clenching his jaw and just has to take a minute to cool off at some points

"I'm not ignoring you, I just can't talk about this while I'm this angry about it."

and he'll go on a brisk walk to cool off

he comes back and sits down and talks about it less angry

Alfred once told him, "it's not you against Y/N, it's you and Y/N against the problem. Don't be upset with each other that you have differing views or wants, that's how humans work, we're all different. Anger only gets grown men into bat costumes Master Jason."

G= Growth- How does your relationship change them

Jason actually becomes more secure in himself

it's like you've taught him that he deserves to be loved, so it's easier for him to accept that he doesn't hate himself

he's more patient, more deliberate with the things that he does and says and because of this, he comes home from patrol less and less injured

H= Hugs-What are hugs like

big bear hugs

he likes to engulf you and make sure that you're not leaving for a little while

He likes all kinds of hugs because it means that he's close to you, but he prefers the ones that turn into cuddle sessions

he'll run his hands through your hair or scratch your back

sometimes when he's having a bad day, he just needs to burry his head in the crook of your neck and have you whisper that it's going to be alright

I= I love you- How fast did it take for them to say II love you

he doesn't say it too fast, but he also doesn't take forever to say it

It's maybe like a year or a bit less into dating and he has to leave for a mission

You were either not going to go because you're not a vigilante, or you needed to stay behind to make sure that some crime mob wasn't starting back up

He says "I love you" when he's about to leave

He doesn't want to leave you, but he knows he has to

He hugs you so tight when you say it back

it means the world to him that you care about him like that

it's a rib crushing soul and he thinks about it the entire mission

J= Jealousy- How jealous are they

I'd say he can be pretty jealous but also he's easily leveled off

if someone is taking your attention and he's not getting as much as usual, he inserts himself into conversations or situations like a Golden Retriever

he just kinds of sits there and stares at your or rubs circles on your hang until you give him attention

If it's someone flirting with you, he likes to make some sort of show out of it

If there's someone flirting with you at a gala (which happens a lot), he pulls you in for a dance and kissing you in the middle of the dance floor

You know what he's doing but you're not going to deny it are you

K= Kisses- How do they kiss/ where do they like to be kissed

He likes to be kissed everywhere

his shoulders, his abs, his collarbone, his neck, behind his ear, his cheek, the forehead, on the lips

you name it

he really prefers a real kiss though

that's his go to

L= Love language- What’s their love language

quality time and physical touch

he just wants you

Jason would melt into you at any moment if it meant he got to be close to you

He wants to spend time with you, even if you're not doing the same thing, and he wants his body touching yours somehow

M= Mornings- What are mornings with them like-

he's the kind of guy that sets an early alarm if he has to get up so that he can cuddle

mornings are basically always slow and warm and cozy

he likes to cuddle in the morning and have himself wrapped around you

sometimes before bed, he turns the AC colder so that when you wake up, you have to be close together to keep warm

if he wakes up before you, he'll either go back to sleep, or he plays with your hair until you wake up

N= Nicknames- What are their nicknames for you

doll

babe

love

darling

hottie

hot stuff

angel

love

O= On Patrol- What’s it like being on patrol with them

He likes to keep a close eye on you

You have to learn that it's not because he doesn't trust you, it's because he's always worried about the people he loves getting hurt or dying

he wants to make sure that at any moment something goes South, he's there to protect you

he flirts a lot on patrol

He also likes cracking jokes while he's busting skulls

it's one of the more morbid things he does

he likes to team up on patrol and always wants to know what you're doing and how you're doing

the two of you will often be seen near the bank building eating fast food perched on the ledge

he'll totally take you to his favorite gargoyle don't worry

P= PDA- What’s their stand on PDA

loves PDA, loves touching you

he's not gross about it like he's never making out with you in front of a crowd but he's always got an arm around you or a hand on your thigh

There are plenty of pap pictures of him with his arm wrapped around your shoulder while talking to you or glaring at something/ someone

if you're also famous for something, the paparazzi are always there but ten fold the intensity if you weren't famous

articles are always being written about Gotham's favorite couple

America's favorite couple if you're big enough

Q= Quirks- What are their quirks

he really likes to keep things really, really clean

usually your house is spotless because he's cleaning up after himself and you do the same

sometimes partners just get comfy and leave their crap everywhere

not Jason, he's clean as can be, not because he's uncomfortable around you, but because it's comforting for him to be in a non chaotic space

you know that he's stressed when he starts leaving things everywhere

R= Remember- Do they remember the details or the big picture

Jason remembers everything down to the final detail

there's like an always open compartment in his brain that filters and sorts the information about you and your relationship

he knows what you like and dislike, who you're beefing with at all times, what flavor candies are your favorite, what food you don't like, if there's a spice you don't like, he knows how you prefer your clothes and what color metal for jewelry you prefer, he knows how you like the recoil on your guns if you have any, he remembers the washing detergent that you use and the dryer sheet scent and brand

man knows everything

it's like that one kid that just knows random, niche information that no one expects them to know

he knows it allll

S= Security- How do you two feel around each other

he feels so safe and free around you

he just knows that if there is a problem, you'd be able to handle it

If there was a moment when he was taken out, he knows you'd protect him somehow

he gets all soft around you and he feels comfortable letting his guard down

You can trust that he's always there for you and that no matter what, he's going to be there for you

Jason is loving and attentive and wants to take care of you in any way possible

T= Taste- what do they prefer in a partner

he needs someone that can keep up with him

he's an intellectual, even if doesn't seem like it

he's an analytical person and needs someone that can have conversations with him and be on his level

Like you really don't have to be a straight A student because not all smart people are straight A students

I mean come on, Albert Einstein was reported to be a bad student and he's a genius

he also wants someone that puts some care into themselves

if you're running around without a care in the world, stepping into oncoming traffic because you don't care, it's going to stress him tf out

U= Understanding- How understanding of you are they

Jason is extremely understanding of life

I mean it's screwed him over a few times so he knows that it can get difficult

Jason also needs someone that is understanding of him

they understand why he maybe doesn't want to watch IT, or he sleeps a lot when he can, or he doesn't like loud noises and ticking sounds

Jason being understanding though doesn't mean that he's easy to use

Oh he understands alright

he understands that he hates the people that try and use him for gain

V= Value- What do they value most in a relationship

Jason values someone that will be just as enthusiastic about something as he is

He loves someone that wants to be around him and talk to him

he need someone that he can vent to without judgement

he needs someone that respects his personal boundaries (as any normal human is like)

he needs someone that can understand that even if sometimes he messes up, he's really, really trying to turn out better than he was told he would become

W= Work- Do they balance their work schedule well around your relationship

he's pretty good at balancing work around your relationship

it helps if you're a vigilante too

sometimes things comes up and he has to skip a date or comes home extra late and he really, really hates it and feels so bad about it

he's sure to call and text you all the time to make sure that you never get stood up somewhere or that you know what he's doing and what his intentions are

He never wants you to feel like you're being left behind or put on the back burner

X= Xtra- Extra headcannons

He's got good taste when it comes to interior design

he got an apartment where he did to make sure that it would always have sunlight during the day

I'd say he's a handy person too

I mean he worked with Bruce his entire life and does mechanics, he can't be that bad at fixing a bad pipe or general maintenance

Y= Yearning- How much do they miss you when you’re apart

Jason hates LOATHS being without you

if you're out of town for a mission or something, he doesn't sleep well and he struggles to chill out

he's always on edge wondering if there's something wrong that needs fixing

whenever you're reunited, he's all over you

the "never leaving you again" mentality

he's not obsessive but he really, really misses you when you're gone

like his other half or one of his lungs is missing

Z) Zeal- How dedicated or enthusiastic about the relationship are they

when he's serious about something, he's all in it

he loves being around you and making leaps in your relationship

he values your company and everything that you have to offer and he just thinks that you're the greatest thing to exist since indoor plumbing

there's no cheating, no longing looks at someone else, there's nothing that indicates anything going on between him and someone else

He's just there for you and that's it

he is yours and yours only and that's how he prefers it to be

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #red hood fluff #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood

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mavrintarou · 7 months

Text

Lord Ushijima Wakatoshi [1]

I tried to do one part... but this got too long. I feel like this is the smuttiest of all Lord series (tell me otherwise - let me know which one you think is the smuttiest lol). If you’re new, welcome to my Lord Haikyuu fandom, I have completed Lord series for Sakusa, Suna, Kita, and the Miya twins, check them out too!

Warning: explicit smut; angst; TW: miscarriage; reader is inexperience

Part two - end

Wakatoshi thrust hard one final time before he withdrew and fisted his cock, he groaned as his cum shot thick white spurts all over Y/n’s belly and breasts.

Her eyes shut as her pussy spasm even after his withdrawal, the overstimulating effect he often left her in. Her chest rose with heavy breath as her legs that were pinned to her chest were finally freed from his grip. Y/n didn’t need to open her eyes to hear he was grabbing a towel, as always, he cleaned her up afterward.

Y/n opened her eyes and reached her hand out, indicating for him to give her the towel so she could clean herself up. He ignored her reach and began wiping his essence away.

She didn’t quite understand why he preferred to ejaculate on her, only to wipe it away. Not that she wanted him to cum while he was inside of her.

She lay there with an arm over her eyes while he wiped her down, even between her legs. The first time he did this, she panicked and nearly fought him until he ordered her to remain still with his stern Captain tone.

“We have a mission coming in two days, I need you to prepare – “

“I know, I know…” Y/n cut him off, even though he repeated the same thing every time they had a mission together. Somedays she wondered if she was more his assistant than his second in command.

She rolled over as soon as he set the towel back in the basin, that was her usual cue to leave. She grabbed her yukata and was about to slip it on when she was suddenly on her back once again.

“Who said I was done?”

Y/n’s eyes widened briefly before she quickly blinked them away. Lately, Wakatoshi has been keeping her in his chamber longer than before, not satisfied until he’s had his way with her.

“I’m – I’m sore,” Y/n murmured, cheeks flushing.

Y/n didn’t know the true meaning of soreness until her first night with her Captain. She has gone through the exact training and exercise the rest of her team has endured to earn their current position regardless of her gender and never once has she uttered a complaint, even in the face of soreness.

She knew she was inexperienced and lacked education about sharing a man’s bed since she was essentially raised a boy by her grandfather and spent most of her time in the company of men.

Since the day she rose to second in command, there was never a mission she was not by her captain’s side but the one time that she was assigned to a different mission that he only trusted her to handle… he returned in a state of discomfort.

“What happened to him?” Y/n demanded, being blocked at Captain’s doorway by Shirabu and Ohira.

Reon avoided Y/n’s eyes, “he… uh – there… he’ll be fine in a couple of… hours. Or days.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before looking at Kenjiro, she knew he would tell her, he was the closest to her on the team. “Tell me Jiro – what’s wrong with Cap?”

Kenjiro looked uncomfortable under her strict gaze before sighing, “he was exposed to some unknown powder during this mission…”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and she made a move to brush past them and see for herself how the captain’s well-being was but they blocked her once more. “Move,” she demanded sternly, never once speaking to them with that tone.

Reon raised his hands in a defense mechanism, “listen, Y/n… you can’t see him right now… for his dignity… and maybe your safety.”

They were speaking in a circle and it was making Y/n frustrated.

“Yes, it is best if you don’t see him within the next… maybe a few days…” Kenjiro added, trying to avoid eye contact.

“If you guys do not get to the point and tell me exactly what is wrong with Cap, I will put you both down.”

Both men’s breath hitched as they straightened their shoulders in reflex. Kenjiro looked at Reon before he nodded. Kenjiro, the team’s medic expert exhaled before speaking, “we believe the unknown drug is a form of an aphrodisiac.” He paused, “since discovering this, Cap… Cap is in pain.”

“Are there no medicine or herbs to help?”

Kenjiro shook his head, “no, it will flush out of his system in time or… with assistance.”

“What kind of assistance?”

“Sexual… he is in a state of sexual desire… that is the only other way to help him is to meet his sexual desires.”

At that exact moment, all three of them jumped when they heard a crash coming within the Captain’s chamber. Both Kenjiro and Reon entered his room finding their captain on the floor naked.

Y/n has seen Wakatoshi topless many times due to tending his wounds but never has she seen him completely naked.

Wakatoshi turned his head, looking at Y/n with hooded dark eyes. “Y/n…” he groaned, a hand reaching out to her. “I need you…”

Kenjiro and Reon struggled to get him back on his feet, dragging him back to his futon.

“Y/n, you should leave – your presence might make it more difficult for –“ Kenjiro is knocked on his feet when Wakatoshi pushes him aside, trying to stand and make his way towards Y/n. “Y/n, leave!”

Reon interfered and wrapped his strong arms around Wakatoshi, “Wakatoshi, you are not in your right mind right now – please go back to the futon!” He was close to pulling the man with the same body size as his back to the futon until Wakatoshi maneuvered, shoving him off– making him fall right on top of Kenjiro, and knocking the wind out of him.

“Jiro!” Y/n ran towards the two but was caught by Wakatoshi in a bear hug. “Cap – get a hold of yourself!” She tried to pull herself free but it was futile when he held on to her tightly. His nose pressed against her exposed collarbone before she felt his hot tongue lick along her neck.

Looking at an unconscious Kenjiro and Reon who is trying to wake him up, a hand grips her jaw forcing her to look into the dark eyes of her captain.

“Only look at me, Y/n.” He growled, before pressing his lips against hers.

Y/n moaned into his mouth before breaking the kiss. “Reon, take Jiro and leave! I’ll handle Wakatoshi from here.” Reon refused, shaking his head but before he could protest, Y/n commanded him. “Go, now!”

Reon lifted the lanky Kenjiro into his arms and tossed him over his shoulder before hurrying out, closing the door behind him.

Immediately, she pushed against him with her might until he let her go. “Wakatoshi… this isn’t like you.” Her captain, whom she had known for years stalked her like she was his prey.

Jiro’s words earlier echo in her ears, meet his sexual desires…

Letting out a frustrated breath, she began to untie her uniform. Each piece of clothing dropped on the ground by her feet until she stood before him naked. She had some knowledge about intimacy between a man and a woman and heard plenty of tips from the men on her team.

She just needed to trick him, get him on the bed so she could knock him out.

Wakatoshi approached her, he looked taller and bigger without his clothing.

Was his shoulders always this broad? She found herself lost in admiration.

“Y/n,” he murmured, reaching to lift her chin so their gaze could meet. “You’re so…” his eyes drop to appreciate her naked form, “beautiful.” His arm snaked around her waist, pressing her against him.

Y/n gasped, feeling the hard ripples of his body pressed against her but what caught her off guard was his cock she has been avoiding was pressing against her abdominal. She pressed her palms against his chest to put space but Wakatoshi was faster, his hands picked her up easily off the ground. Her arms wrapped around his shoulder and legs around his torso. She can feel his rough callus hands supporting her naked bottom.

“Kiss me, Y/n… please…”

He held her higher, making her look down at him. Her cheeks flushed as he gazed at her desperately, pleadingly for her to put him out of his misery. Leaning down, she pressed her mouth against him, meeting his kiss hungrily.

She has kissed one other man but has never kissed them as intensely as now. She couldn’t recognize the lewd moans that were coming from her mouth continuing to meet Wakatoshi’s movement.

“Wai – wait Captain – “ she broke off the kiss, and flinched when she heard him growl in disappointment. His lips move to her jaw, nipping down to her throat. She looked over at the futon to see if she could get him to lie down, then maybe she could take the opportunity and knock him unconscious.

“I need you,” Wakatoshi murmured against her throat. “Need you now, Y/n… please…”

She gently lifted his face, meeting his dilated pupils with her gaze. Her heart raced faster than ever before. Throughout her entire life, she has never been swayed by anything yet at this moment, her heart and mind wanted to give in. She felt an undeniable yearning to yield, to grant him what he sought. “O – okay,” she heard herself say, “just once…” Her heart skipped a beat when his pouty lips curved into a smile, “don’t – don’t make me regret it…”

Wakatoshi muttered something under his breath before moving. Y/n turned her head to see where he was carrying her and frowned when he walked straight to the dresser and set her slightly on the edge. He pulled away and her eyes locked with his thick hard cock that was leaking from the tip. Her belly was smeared of the white milky essence.

Any words she had was lost as she watched him stroke his cock, her jaw dropped unknowingly as she has never seen something so exotic before.

He stepped forward, pressing the tip to her pussy, bit by bit he pushed forward and groaned, “relax for me.”

The tip impaled her entrance, making her tense at the foreign intrusion. “I can’t…” Y/n shook her head, whimpering, “I’ve never done this before… this is weird…”

“Look at me,” she looked up, the tone demanding her as her Captain.

Wakatoshi pressed his lips to hers, his tongue immediately searching to tangle with hers. As soon as she was distracted, he thrust in one go, fully embedded inside of her pussy.

He wrapped an arm around her back to keep her from pushing away from him. He cooed soothing words kissing her mouth as she swore at him about hurting her.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, kissing her tears away. “You can do this, you can take me, Y/n… I know you can otherwise I wouldn’t need you…”

Her fist gently beat against his shoulders, “you’re too… you’re too big…”

Wakatoshi half chuckled and choked a groan as her hot walls throb around his cock. He slowly began moving his hip in shallow thrusts until her wetness has lubricated his cock. As soon as it became easier for his entire length to penetrate her fully, his thrusts fastened. He groaned, pressing his forehead against hers, “you’re too tight… fuck I love it though… you feel so good…” Her soft whimpers gradually turned into moans as he continued to coo assuring affirmation. “You’re doing good… so good… you’re so good for me.” He hooked one of her legs over his arm, widening her legs to accommodate when he thrust inside her again. “You’re taking me so well…”

Y/n followed his gaze and looked down and was mesmerized at his cock pump into her pussy. How is it that seconds ago it was pain she felt, but now it is pleasure? “Cap – “

“My name.”

She peered up at him, biting down on her lip to hold in her lewd moans she never knew she could make.

“My name, Y/n.” He commanded again with a soft tone, “say my name.”

She shook her head, it felt too intimate saying his name while his cock was buried deep inside of her.

He shook his head with a grin, “stubborn woman.” He hooked his other arm underneath her knee, lifting her completely off the dresser. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”

She followed his command and immediately regretted it when he easily lifted her hips and began thrusting into her at the same time. Y/n’s grip tightened around his neck being at his mercy. “Cap – “

“Say my name!” Wakatoshi growled, nipping her ear. When she still refused, he sped his movement along with bouncing her harder on his cock.

“My Lord!”

Wakatoshi's movement halted as he unexpectedly heard her address him in that term. “Ahh… fuck…” he cursed as his cock pulsated. “Y/n… you little tease…” he whispered hotly into her ear. He just came but he was not close to being satisfied.

Y/n’s eyes widen as she quickly leaned back to look at him when he continue to keep rocking her on his cock. “What –“ The rest of her words turned into a moan as he started to bounce her on his cock. “Wait – you just – “

His hot breath teased her ear as he nipped the lobe, “more Y/n… I need more…”

“Wa – Waka – Toshi! Wait – you’re going too – fast!” Her ears were tuning in the lewd sound of their skin slapping together. “’Toshi! Stop – I feel – I feel weird!” Each time his cock filled her for a split second, it sends a pulse to the place she never knew existed. Her lower belly quivered like she was going to explode any second.

“Let go, Y/n – cum for me…” he whispered and commanded, “cum on my cock.”

Her back arched, her toes curled and her head thrown back as her body trembled. Her pussy throbbed and constricted around his cock. Wakatoshi's low groan mixed with hers as he finally stopped thrusting into her.

Her eyes widen feeling something warm shoot inside of her for the second time. Y/n fell limp against him, her head resting against the crook of his neck and shoulder as the last ounce of strength she had depleted.

Wakatoshi was lost in his world, still coming down from his high. His cock was still hard, the drug had not completely worn off even after such intense sex. “Y/n?” he called her name. When she did not respond he lifted her enough to slip his cock out. He heard something spill and glanced down to see a pool of milky essence.

He could feel her steady breath fanning his neck and secure his grip around her bottom, carrying her gently to the futon.

“Just stay.”

Y/n blinked, breaking out of the memories of how their rendezvous had commenced. “No, I want to sleep in my chamber.” She quickly got up but he caught her wrist, gazing at her with a soft expression that she had seen recently and making her heart race.

“Are you okay?” His tone filled with worry. “Shall I escort you back to your chamber?”

She shook her head, brushing his hand off, “I am okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hurried before he could convince her to stay. Each time, it was becoming a challenge to say no to him.

[5 days later]

It has been a few hours since Y/n finally woke up from days of deep slumber.

All she could recollect from the mission was that they were ambushed. Before heading out, she had an eerie and unsettling feeling about the mission that she had never felt before. Half a day into their mission something did not feel right when her six senses noticed the quietness around them.

Whatever had happened has been blocked out of her memories.

It was evident of her substantial injuries, her right shoulder was bandaged from an arrow piercing, and a stab wound in her left thigh.

Those were expected injuries, however, the one she did not expect and was still wrapping her head around even after the doctor had left her chambers was that she had miscarried.

She was pregnant.

Since the doctor left, her hand had been resting on her abdomen, where her unborn baby is no longer living.

She was foolish to disregard the risk of pregnancy after many nights spent in her captain's bed. He had been careful to withdraw and ejaculate on her body. Y/n was oblivious to the idea that she could still conceive otherwise. Looking back, she must have conceived from her first night with him. It would be likely that she might have been pregnant prior to them making their intimate meetups a routine. She recalled the peculiar feeling of him cumming continuously inside of her the first night and it was that moment when she was lost in her bliss and pleasure she neglected to take any precautions.

The doctor determined the miscarriage was likely caused by the excessive blood loss she suffered. Her wounds themselves had put her body in shock and if the doctor calculated correctly, Y/n was more than three months along in the pregnancy. “You were still in the risky stages of pregnancy, it is nothing to dwell on as most women face this risk altogether.”

Her hand pressed against her flat belly, recollecting a few days prior when she noticed the slight weight gain but did not put too much thought into it.

“Captain went berserk.” Shirabu quietly informed, “you may not know but after everything, we believe that the ambush was to take you out first and then everyone else. Every one of them targeted you while you were trying to keep Captain safe.”

Y/n pondered, confused as to why she would have been the target but it would make sense strategically if enemies cannot get to the main target, then take out their protector first.

“My guess is that if they took you out first, it would be easier to take out the rest of us.” Shirabu stood up, “but please rest, for the time being, you are ordered to rest. Captain has ordered a checklist for the doctor to sign off before you’re allowed to return.” He kept it to himself, but he was sure the Captain would not let her return to active duty. He knew that Ushijima Wakatoshi would never allow her to lift her sword or wear her uniform after this mission.

“Shirabu,” Y/n called his name quietly, “does he – does he know about –“

Shirabu reached for her hand and squeezed it, “yes, he knows but only a few of us, including me and Reon. Do not fret, no one else won’t know.”

After he left her to rest, Y/n stared out the window and she didn’t notice the tears that slipped from the corner of her eyes.

Wakatoshi needed a moment to absorb Y/n’s report. His breath caught in his throat when the doctor reported to him her injuries and informed him additionally, the news of her miscarriage.

“This is precisely why some argue against women serving in the Shiratorizawa Scout regime,” he lamented, shaking his head in disappointment. “This incident alone could potentially lead to her removal as second in command once the report makes it up to the leadership and shame the regime altogether.” Closing his briefcase, he remarked, “the loss of the child has placed a significant mental burden on her. I do not believe she was aware that she was pregnant.” He pushed his specs upward, “even if she isn’t removed from the squad, it’s uncertain whether she’ll fully recover.”

The doctor remained entirely unaware of the identity of the person he was addressing, oblivious to the fact that Ushijima Wakatoshi was, in fact, the father of the unborn child.

Wakatoshi loomed over the diminutive doctor, whose expression swiftly transformed into one of fear. “You will not breathe a word of this outside these walls, do you comprehend?” Wakatoshi cautioned.

The doctor nodded, responding barely audible as he muttered, “un – understood.”

After dismissing him, Wakatoshi sat in his chair in deep thought. Had Y/n really not known she was pregnant all this time? And when did it happen? He had been careful to pull out every time even if he wanted nothing more than to cum inside of her…

“Argh,” he groaned, burying his face into his hands. If Y/n was pregnant, it meant that it must have been from the first time. Memories came flooding back as he remembers the exhilarating feeling when he would watch his cum ooze out every time he thrust back into her. His cock was still hard as a rock even after so many rounds. Y/n would whimper, crying out that she was too full of his cum and he would fuck his cum back into her until they were both sticky with their mixed essence.

“This is all my fault,” he muttered, fingers fisting his hair tightly. She was in this predicament because of him.

Wakatoshi shook his head to shake off the memories, it was not the time to think about the past. He shot up from his seat and headed towards Y/n’s room.

Entering her room with a hushed step, he discovered her seated by the window, her expression devoid of emotion. It was a welcome sight compared to finding her asleep every time he visited.

His gaze shifted to the untouched tray of food and he let out a sigh, remarking gently, “you’ve hardly touched your meal.”

As soon as their eyes met, Wakatoshi swiftly approached her, kneeling by her side and enveloping her in his arms, cradling her delicate form. Aside from tangling their limbs in bed, outside of that, they refrained from touching one another. He whispered softly, his voice filled with concern, “please, tell me. What do you want? What can I do to bring the light back into your eyes?” His words were muffled as he buried his face into her lap, seeking to comfort her.

After a brief pause, he raised his head and gazed into her vacant eyes. Even while kneeling, he remained taller than her as she occupied the chair. Tenderly, he cradled her cheek and gently urged, “Y/n, please, speak to me.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his torso, burying her face into his chest.

His embrace grew tender as he enveloped her, holding her tightly. A hitch in his breath accompanied her trembling form and muffled sobs against his yukata.

All he could offer was a tighter grip, a comforting presence in her time of need.

[2 weeks later]

Reon and Kenjiro did not dare breathe as Wakatoshi was a ticking bomb.

Many often found him intimidating, though he was truly a gentle giant.

But in this particular moment, gentleness was nowhere to be found.

Their gaze fixated on the slightly crumpled piece of paper clutched tightly in their Captain’s hand. It was almost certain that this was the official report regarding Y/n’s release from duty. The entire team had just been informed of her release and had come to inquire more information about it from their Captain, only to discover that he was the last to be informed.

Wakatoshi let out a low exhale, his focus still zoned out as he recollected his and Y/n’s last conversation.

“They will remove me.” Y/n said to Wakatoshi, “promise me you’ll pick Reon to replace me.”

Wakatoshi brought their foreheads together, “you’re not getting replaced, I’ll make sure your report only lists your injuries, nothing more.” He was willing to do anything to keep her by his side. He locked eyes with her, gazing into hers. “You are not alone.” His hand tightened behind her nape, “it was my child too, Y/n.” His statement must have caught her off guard as she flinched. “I may not know the pain you’re feeling, the suffering and the grieving but know this Y/n, I am in pain too. I’m suffering too. And I’m grieving for our child too.” His features softened, and he leaned up to kiss her forehead. “I’ll take all responsibility, I am at fault.” Wakatoshi sighed softly, he cupped her face with both hands, “Y/n, if you can give me six months, I will step down as Captain and we can settle down anywhere you would like.”

Y/n frowned and pulled away from his touch. “No, you shouldn’t do that.”

Wakatoshi frowned in return, “why not?”

“You do not need to do that for me, please don’t do that for me.” She pulls away from him completely, standing up and walking away. “It was not your fault at all, Cap. It wasn’t like you forced me, I allowed myself to get involved with you.”

“And it was my carelessness that made you pregnant, therefore, my responsibility.”

“And I am telling you that you do not need to take responsibility for it.” She shot back, “I am tired, please leave me alone.”

Wakatoshi left without uttering another word, and that marked the final exchange and encounter between them. The next day, he was promptly dispatched on a mission, keeping him away for half a week. Upon his return, exhaustion overcame him, and he slumbered for a continuous sixteen hours. When he finally awoke and sought out Y/n, her room was void of any presence. He initially assumed she might have been on break or he had approached at an inopportune moment, only to find her room empty upon his return each subsequent day.

“Captain,” Reon called out quietly, “what…”

“I don’t know, but I will find out,” Wakatoshi promised, exiting his office. He marched straight into his leader’s office without notice and slammed the letter on the desk. “What is this?” his voice is low and quiet.

The individual whom Wakatoshi regarded as a father figure let out a sigh and removed his glasses, setting the stage for a silent and intense gaze-lock between them. “It is exactly what it means, Wakatoshi.” He sighed, lighting up a cigarette, “I did the best I could to have her be discharged instead of dismissed. You know something like that could not have been swept under the rug.” He exhaled a puff of smoke and the frustration he had been carrying on his shoulder. “Y/n is one of a kind and she has shown nothing but loyalty and commitment to the regime. She will be a great loss to us but you both knew the bylaws.” He eyed Wakatoshi, “if it was anyone, you both would have been dismissed with dishonor but because you both are highly valued, I could only save you.”

“Tell me,” Wakatoshi began, his voice cold, “where in the bylaws states that a relationship cannot be established between a man and a woman?”

“That is the thing, you were comrades, you made the mistake and treated her like a woman.” He shook his head, “look, Waka – we are men and we have our needs but you should have found someone else, not someone who is your second-in-command.” He killed his cigarette and released the last puff of smoke.

Wakatoshi’s face hardened, “what happened and what was shared between Y/n and I is no one’s business when there are no laws that state that a man and a woman on the same Corp cannot seek a romantic relationship.” His body towered over his leader, making him slightly cower. “I’d like to see where that is written.”

“It – it may not be written but it’s definitely frowned upon.” He did not understand why Wakatoshi was making a big deal out of it. “Do you feel for this woman, Ushijima?”

“I owe you no explanation, I will be clearing my office and you will see and accept my immediate resignation letter by the end of the night.” Wakatoshi was out the door before his leader could utter a word, still processing his words.

Y/n gazed at her old and long-abandoned family home, realizing it had been over 20 years since she had last set foot inside. Pushing the gates open, she entered the property and took stock of the work that awaited her to bring it back to its former glory.

The basket in her hand has become slightly heavy filled with vegetables and meat as she shopped. Y/n stared across the market at the textile store, seeing various kimonos on display.

For years, she wore custom uniforms seven days a week, which left her with little need to have kimonos or yukatas, aside from the ones she wore to bed. The few she owned, she had brought with her, but they were all in black. As she examined the yellow kimono with white floral prints, Y/n found herself strangely drawn to it.

“I thought it was you, Y/n.”

Y/n looked up, her eyes widening as a smile graced her lips. “Chigaya Maru.”

She lost count of how many years it had been since she last saw him, from a little boy to a grown adult. His shoulders were broad and well-built, and she couldn’t help but believe that he had likely assumed the mantle of their family’s longstanding sword-smithing business.

“My mom would be so thrilled to hear you have finally returned home.” His expression softened as he smiled, “we’ve all missed you.”

Maru walked beside Y/n in silence as they made their way back to her house. “Come by the shop tomorrow, I’ll show you the pieces I’ve made.”

They made it to the front gates, “sounds good, I’ll swing by soon. Have a good night, Maru.” She entered the gates, closing them behind her. She waited until she heard Maru’s footsteps fade before entering her home.

Her home still required cleaning and some additional repairs, but it was now habitable, and being in this familiar setting brought her a comforting sense of reassurance.

She laid down on the new futon she purchased and rolled over towards the window. For the first time in her life, she felt so alone.

It hadn’t occurred to her that her team may have been strangers at one point, but they all became brothers to her and became a family to her.

The captain’s face entered her thoughts, and she tightly shut her eyes, feeling the pain in her heart intensify, the ache of missing him becoming almost unbearable. Did he know of her absence by now?

In such a short amount of time that they were intimately involved, she would have never imagined how challenging it would be now to walk away from someone when they made you feel… loved and wanted. And made you feel like a woman.

Her hand slipped down and in between her legs as the place in between her legs ached.

Ushijima Wakatoshi made her addicted to his touch.

Her fingers slipped in between her yukata as she pressed the aching nub before sliding the pad of her fingers along her slit like how he always did it.

Y/n rolled onto her back and widened her legs, her finger teased her clit, rubbing it in circles. A lewd whimper escaped her lips the moment her finger slipped past her folds. “’Toshi…”

Her fingers were nothing compared to his but she tried to mimic his movements.

She let her mind imagine that they were his, that he was there in between her legs and fingering her with not one, or two but three of his thick fingers, curling them each time they were knuckle deep.

Her other hand caresses her chest until she finds her perky nipple, twisting and tugging it.

Wakatoshi never spared her nipples, always suckling them like how she had seen a mother breastfeed her baby. She had never seen a woman nurse a baby before and couldn’t help but be reminded when Wakatoshi’s lips found hers and suckled hard.

The naive Y/n had thought with the way he was suckling, milk would come out. “Toshi… you’re sucking too hard… I don’t have milk for you.” She blurted out.

He lifted his head, caught off guard by her comment. “Of course, you wouldn’t have milk, you aren’t lactating.” He chuckled at the confused expression, “you are not pregnant, you do not need to fret about lactating.”

“But you keep sucking like…” she blushed, turning her face away.

Wakatoshi gently gripped her chin and turned her face so they were looking at one another, “like what?”

“Like a… baby.”

“Like this?” he takes her nipple back into his mouth and suckles hard. “Do you like it when I do that?”

She nodded her head, “yes… I do.”

Y/n’s fingers easily thrust in and out of her pussy with how wet she has become. “Toshi…” she repeated, calling his name as her fingers fastened until her orgasm erupted. Her hot gummy walls squeezed and trembled around her fingers.

She looks down, seeing her legs spread wide and fingers still inside her pussy. She had never touched herself before yet, here she is, pleasuring herself the way Wakatoshi did. Her head falls back onto her pillow as she imagined how he would have cum all over her abdomen, his groan each time spurts ejaculated from the tip of his thick cock. She remembered the first time he had done so, he smeared it over her skin like it was lotion.

Y/n spread her palm over her abdomen, rubbing it like Wakatoshi had always done so. Her hand paused as she thought about her child who was no longer growing within her.

She found it amusing how overnight, she could change from a woman who would not hesitate to kill on sight to a woman who grieved for the child she did not know. She never knew the latter woman even existed in her. In an instant, she no longer wanted to be part of the Corp, the almost maternal instinct within her took over and the new her wanted nothing to do with that lifestyle no more. It was best she left the Corp and returned home to settle quietly and start a new life.

[Five months later]

A towel pressed along her forehead, dabbing the sweat she wasn’t even aware of. Maru smiled softly down at her, “don’t strain yourself, Y/n.”

Y/n returned the smile and nodded, “don’t worry, I’m not.” She continued to sharpen the katana.

She was blessed with a job with the Chigaya. They were in need of a sword sharpener and that was a specialty Y/n possessed. The business sales increased drastically within days as many sought to have their sword refined.

“It is a mixture of pressure and light-handed when sharpening,” Y/n informed, showing Maru one afternoon. “You must use the right amount of water along with the pressure to stay consistent and prevent any damage to the sword.”

Maru’s father walks in, carrying a sword carefully in his arms. He set it on a stand, “here is another drop-off.” He sighed, his eyes filled with gratitude as he looked at Y/n. For generations, the family business thrived, but since Y/n had joined the team and taken on the role that had remained vacant for two decades, the business had experienced a remarkable resurgence. The word had spread like wildfire, and Chigaya Swords was not attracting clients from far and wide.

“Thank you, I will get to it shortly here,” Y/n answered with a smile. She does the final wipe-down before sliding the sword she was refining back into its scabbard.

“Y/n,” Maru’s father called her name softly, “where did you learn sword sharpening skills?”

“When my grandfather came for me, I stayed with him while he was still serving in the Corp. Being the only girl, I wasn’t exactly welcomed or liked and the man who was in charge of managing the weapons room, allowed me to help when I would always watch him from his doorway.” She is reminded how she was always pestering the man she called Uncle with questions to the point where he just had her try it out for herself. It wasn’t afterward that he realized that she might be useful to him after all and took her in as his apprentice.

When her Uncle was not welding a sword, he was teaching her how to hold a sword, how to swing, and everything there is to know.

At the age of seventeen, her Uncle encouraged her to join the swordsman tournament within the Corp, the winner would be recognized as a member of the Corp. On the day of the event, she shocked the entire crowd but nothing could be counted against her as there were no rules stating a woman could not participate.

She shocked the crowd a second time in one day when she was the last one standing, winning the tournament.

Y/n turned down the offer to join the Corp, insisting she would become a weapon welder.

For the first time, her grandfather, patted her head, “I am proud of you.”

He was murdered during an abrupt attack on the base. Y/n herself was gravely injured but as soon as her wounds healed, she hunted down the man who was responsible for her grandfather’s death and others.

She returned, bloody and battered but with the head of the Colonel.

Maru’s father affectionately patted her head, evoking memories of her grandfather and uncle, the last two who had done so. “We are deeply thankful to you,” he expressed. “Finding a skilled sword sharpener is no easy task. Not everyone possesses the gift touch to refine a blade as you do.” He looks past Y/n and at Maru, “come, I need your help.”

The two men leave the room that has become Y/n’s sanctuary. She reached to touch the top of her head and smiled. Such a simple gesture but it has always warmed her heart and soul.

Y/n peered out the window, her view obscured by the torrential rain. Rainy days had always made her sword-sharpening sessions feel therapeutic. Her gaze then shifted to the last remaining sword, the one Maru’s father had recently delivered.

She let out a sigh and extended her hand toward the sword.

Just as her hand was about to make contact with it, something jolted her, causing her hand to freeze in mid-air, a mere centimeters away from the sword. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest as she instantly recognized the handle of the sword.

“Your sword, Lord Ushijima,” Y/n spoke softly, carefully lifting the sword with both hands and offering it to him. “I hope you won’t mind that I completed your sword for you. We both know… Uncle would have been honored to present you with this blade.”

Uncle had just completed the construction of a custom-made sword for Lord Ushijima Wakatoshi, only to succumb to a fatal medical condition shortly thereafter. When Y/n and the others discovered him, he wore a serene smile on his face, having peacefully departed from the world.

“I’ve made some adjustments to the handle,” she said, lifting the sword above her head. “I believe a longer handle will be more fitting for you, especially since you swing with your left hand. This added length will provide both increased flexibility and stability in your swings.”

Y/n’s hands trembled as she gingerly lifted the sword. Among the swords she worked on so far, the Captain’s sword was the only one she knew of that had an additional inch and a half added to the handle.

There was but one way to confirm the sword’s owner. With a gentle pull of the scabbard, she revealed the blade, and as she turned it, her breath caught her throat.

As the final touch before handing the sword to its rightful owner, she meticulously engraved the letterings: Shiratorizawa – Ushijima Wakatoshi

E/n: next part might be shorter or like half of this.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu angst #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima wakatoshi angst #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi x read #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x you

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missmielyhoran · 11 months

Text

Little Helpers

Harry needs a bit of help, and who's better than his two little gremlins...

90sRockstar!Harry × Reader

A/N- Happens wayyyyyyy long in the future, like at least 10 years after they meet. Harry and reader are in their mid 30s

Only Angel Masterlist // Masterlist

*****

It was your birthday.

And Harry was struggling.

You've been out in New York for last week or so for work while he has been staying home with kids.

To say they're pain in the ass is an understatement, but he made his bed (or hot tub), so he had to lay in it.

Harry was the "fun" parent, to say the least, cause he can't say no, and those gremlins even tho they're only four years old are way too good at getting things their way.

Meanwhile, you knew how to shut down something you knew they didn't need. Like the large Nerf gun, Harry got them in secret and then had to listen to you yell at him while those two giggled from the stairs in timeout.

But that wasn't the problem right now.

The problem was that the house was mess, the kitchen was mess, it was your birthday and he doesn't know how to cook, clean all at the same time while taking care of kids who are already running around in backyard.

It was times like these he was amazed by how his mother, and even you did everything so efficiently. Never once did he saw a thing out of place when you stayed with kids, and he had to go out.

(Maybe cause you made the kids clean up after themselves while he sees one look of their puppy eyes and melts)

He took a deep breath in and called for the kids, "Jack! Soph! come back inside" He yelled, which caught the twins' attention. Their little head snapped towards him, and soon enough, they were running in giggling still in their pjs.

Harry shook his head and walked back inside and saw them talking to themselves. They were literally each others best friends, always attached to the hip, partners in crime, and he hoped they're like this when they grow up.

"Kids, kids and kids!" He announced dramatically. Twins giggled again, "There is only two of us, dada. Why are you saying kids three times?" They looked at each other and laughed again at Harry's trying to be mad face.

"Hey smartasses listen to me." He flicked their head lightly, "It's your maa's birthday today"

The twins' eyes went wide, and then Soph jumped, screaming "birthday" making Harry laugh. "That means we will get cake?" Jack asked his dad.

"You will if you help me" Harry shrugged, "Whoever helps me out the most will get the bigger piece!" Harry said.

Twins looked at each other again and then their dad and nodded their head quickly, "I will help you" Jack said, "Me too" Soph said in tow.

"Well then, let's start with this room. Pick up all your toys and everything else and put them where they should be." He said, walking towards the kitchen sink. It was an open plan, so he could still see the kids while cleaning up the kitchen.

He looked at the clock, and it was still 4 hours left to your arrival. He could do it.

He hopes he can do it.

*****

Harry was surprised and amused when he looked up and saw two heaving toddlers sitting on the ground.

"Well done babies, you did such a great job" He said, squatting down to their level and kissing both of their heads.

"We know" They said together. Harry laughed at that cause even if the kids looked like him, their personality was yours. Sassy, witty and smart for their age.

"We put everything in different boxes so you could see who did more work, and my box is the most filled" Jackson said cockily and Soph rolled her eyes.

"I'm just going to steal more from dad's plate" she said without any care as much as Harry would like to think otherwise it was true. He lost his right to have his own food when he become father and he's okay with it (to certain level). Harry still very much amused with their banter over cake slice, goes to the kitchen, and fetches both of them their water bottles along with a bowl of fruits.

"Why don't you two drink some water and eat all those fruits and then come help me bake the cake?" Harry asked them immediately, getting nods as an answer from hungry babies.

He took out all the ingredients while the kids ate and arranged them, so it was easier for kids to "help" him.

Soon enough, they were all done with their snacks and were standing on the large wooden stool beside Harry, watching him make the cake. Both of them have large chefs hat on and custom matching aprons Harry got for all of them for when they would cook together on Sunday mornings.

He was in the middle of cracking egg when Sophie started to fuss, "Dada I want to do it too!" She said, pouting.

Harry brought the bowl in front of her and stood behind her holding her hand, which had egg in it, and then cracked it open and put it in the bowl. Sophie giggled, finding amusement in cracking eggs, which made Jack feel left out so Harry did the same with him too.

The kids helped him as much as they could, with bringing him stuff, and finally, the cake was in oven.

Jack and Soph sat in front of the oven watching the cake like hawk cause in their words, "we want it to be perfect like maa makes it". Harry cleaned the rest of the kitchen.

"C'mon babies bath time." He announced which much to kids displeasure meant they had to move away from the oven. Harry literally had to drag them upstairs with Soph in his left arm and Jack in right.

"You two are getting heavy for me to pick you up and roam around" he said, groaning at the feeling of back ache rising.

"No, you're just getting old, dada." The twins laughed. Harry rolled his eyes at them and flicked their heads.

"In the bath. Your maa will have my head if you two are dirty" He said, starting the warm bath of them.

*****

There have been times Harry felt proud of himself, and right now, as he watches the clean house, clean kids, and a not burned cake, he feels proud of himself.

Kids were watching TV in the living room when they heard the car pull up in the driveway, and everyone was set on their mission.

Harry quickly lit up all the candles. Meanwhile, kids stood in the position near the door with paper confetti in their hands to throw at you.

Meanwhile, you feel exhausted as you get out of the car. The fashion week of this year was hectic. You were so busy you didn't even remember it was your birthday until you opened he door.

Colorful confetti flew on your face as you heard "happy birthday" in unison. Your kids stood near the door with the biggest smile on their faces with your husband behind them with cake in his hand.

"Omg, thank you so much my little munchkin" you said, sitting down on your knees and pulling twins into tight hugs. All exhaustion and stress were lost as you saw your favorite people.

"Hey, I'm also here." You heard Harry whine, making three of you laugh.

"C'mon maa, we want cake!" Jack said, first making you laugh. You kissed both of their cheeks and stood up, walking towards your husband.

You pecked his lips and smiled, "Thank you, baby." you said with a warm smile matching his. "My absolute pleasure angel" He said, kissing you again.

"Those gremlins helped me, or I was ready to have a panic attack this morning," he said, chuckling.

You brought the cake to the kitchen, Harry stood beside you his arms around your waist, and kids stood on the stool on your other side.

"Maa make a wish!" Soph said. You nodded and wished for your family to stay just like this forever and blew the candles. Jack and Soph clapped while Harry leaned down and kissed your cheeks.

Cake slices were cut and put in plate for all four of you and as you and Harry stood in the kitchen with your head on his shoulder watching your kids banter over who's slice is bigger you never felt more content.

This is all you ever wanted.

*****

I think they're my favorite couple after Harry and Autumn.

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles @vmpellie @sunshinemoonsposts @jayde515 @yeehawbrothers @sleutherclaw @ikea2-0 @thechaoticjoy @astridcommings @grapejuicebluesrry @gxbiqs

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Tell me if you liked this or just talk to me cause trust me I love it, here♡

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sattlersquarry · 14 days

Text

the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?”

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?”

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out.

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

#st fic: oj #st fic: tgd #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

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meanbossart · 2 months

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What is it about Astarion that DU Drow fell for? Which traits/habits/quirks/whatever were the ones that he first noticed/piqued his interest?

Oh boy, I mean, at first DU Drow didn't care for Astarion at all. He was extremely on edge around all of these people and Astarion's rather invasive strategy only put him off further - his insight checks may be awful, but he can still tell when someone is trying to suck up to him a little too hard. DU drow thought he was attractive, of course (see.: the narrator's comment about the quote-on-quote pretty corpse) but otherwise didn't think very much of, or very highly of him.

Once he got his confidence back, and after Astarion caught onto the fact that he needed to play hard to get to string him along, there would have been a little while where DU drow only saw him in the context of a trophy or conquest - but admittedly, he also thought Astarion was funny, and he thought he was smart - even someone as dense as him could see that the guy had read him perfectly, and proceeded to adapt as necessary to get what he wanted out of him - and DU drow fell right into it, willingly so. There would have been some mutual respect there between them from understanding each other's games.

Their ritual of letting Astarion bite him definitely planted a little seed of something too. I've talked about it plenty of times so I won't dwell on it, but DU drow enjoys the intimacy implied in allowing someone to hurt him. This was far from an emotional turning point in the relationship, but it did prompt him to start seeing Astarion differently (not better or worse - just differently.)

(I'm a little drunk and went on and on, enjoy LOL)

Then, after one or two intimate encounters, the Urge would have started taking too much of a toll - violent lust turned into lustful violence, and hence DU drow didn't want to have sex anymore out of a fear of losing control during the act; yet, he had learned to trust Astarion by then and would seek out his comfort and companionship all the same. Faced with the situation where sex is no longer an option, I imagine Astarion would have been caught off guard and let the mask slip more often than usual. Pair that with the fact that DU Drow is a surprisingly affectionate (in private) but highly withdrawn person, left him in the role of leading their exchanges. Astarion, I think, would have felt the need to talk; if for no other reason but to fill the air whenever they were alone together. Eventually DU Drow would have started talking back.

These were long nights of just looking up at the sky and going through things that happened that day, what led them here, what the companions are doing, talking shit about whats-his-or-her-name, often just straight up gossip. Astarion eventually realized he could say whatever he damn pleased in front of DU Drow and nothing seemed to phase him, and vice-versa. DU drow enjoyed his bluntness, his earnest impulsivity that matched his own, he laughed at his jokes (as well as some things that weren't meant as jokes) he enjoyed his teasing and his reactions when he said something putrid in return, he liked the way he smelled when he was clean and he liked his stink when he was filthy, he watched him fidget with his own clothes and hair until Astarion gave him a weird look and aggressively asked what he was staring at. He enjoyed when Astarion got angry at something he said, because it felt very genuine - and he didn't use to think of him as a very genuine person.

Astarion was the first to notice something was wrong with him - so DU drow felt comfortable talking about it openly. On the other hand, DU drow never pressed Astarion about his past unprompted - instead just letting him talk about it if he so wished and without trying to milk it for more details when he did choose to do so. Because they spoke a similar language of violence and operated under the same hedonist-based beliefs, it was easy to talk to each other even when there was friction between them - similarly, they were both always willing to move past and quickly "forget" when someone said something truly hurtful.

I don't know if there was a key moment where he realized this had turned into love; that was probably a word DU Drow dropped quite unabashedly sometime after they got to Baldur's Gate, and before they faced-off with Cazador (to no reciprocation or acknowledgment then, not that he minded). But sometime during act 3, DU drow simply assumed that after this was all over they would still stick together.

#ask #DU drow lore #bg3 spoilers

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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Shower Thoughts

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon has just returned from another soul-crushing mission—and you didn't happen to be home yet.

warnings & contents: heavy angst, our sweetpea is hurt; suicide trigger/thoughts; implied severe depression; assumed older Leon; implied military training on the reader; more hurt than comfort; mentions of death and violence, and blood; could be read as age gap but could be none; the reader could be of any gender; there's light at the end of the tunnel.

a/n: I was craving some angst but didn't plan it to go that far; oh well. Our sweet boy deserves all the happiness though—but author is a bitch. Also, I don't believe Leon would be seriously considering harming himself, but I do believe that he's an empathetic human being kidnapped in his youth to do a shitty job, so there could be a moment of weakness; otherwise, “we owe it to the people who died alongside us, so we have to continue living.” As always, proceed at your own risk. DNI minors & if mentions of suicide affect you. This is a work of fiction and shouldn't be used as guidance on how to behave in similar sensitive situations. Masterlist

***

Leon rubbed his hands under the hot tap forcefully, willing to wash off the blood; the water coming off his fingers was clean for a while, but he seemed not to notice it—after all, there was always blood on his hands, whether others could see it or not. The man only stopped when the touch started to hurt, his abused skin red from friction.

“Shit,” Leon grunted under his breath and turned off the faucet angrily, his breathing ragged. Others might say that it was adrenaline still rushing through his veins, but he knew it wasn’t it. For how long he’s done this job, he was past the prolonged adrenaline rush a while ago. Leon put his palm over his forehead, barely covering his exhausted eyes; his hands slightly shaking.

How many more people had to die before this shit would end?

He remembered them all, those he couldn’t save, and he only kept counting. Leon knew he wasn’t supposed to—saving ordinary folk was a luxury in his position—but it was hard for him to accept who he had become. The extensive bathroom mirror in front of him, he couldn’t level his gaze to take a look at himself, and when he did, his teeth clenched, and his glance shot into the corner of the reflection—there was his essential gear, a pistol and a knife, thoughtlessly dropped on the bathroom floor.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted. A carnal thought made him blush in a fever—wouldn’t it be so easy? Leon was never the type to look for easy ways out—but he was only of flesh and blood, too; isn't he only human? Despite what reports said about him always being “the survivor” and “the golden boy.” Screw the odds.

He picked up his gear from the floor, his palm sliding across the pistol barrel. Leon counted the bullets left in the magazine with another hand, pulling it back into the grip compartment right after; his facial expression was unreadable, deprived of emotion. In moments like this, the man wasn't sure if he could feel anything anymore.

Wouldn't it be so easy, after all? Maybe after that, he'll be able to wake up from this bloody nightmare.

Consumed by his thoughts, he didn't hear how the keys screeched in the lock of the apartment door, and you came in.

You noticed his jacket on the hanger, and your eyebrows shot to your forehead in surprise.

“Leon?” you called to him, dropping bags full of groceries next to the kitchen island; your body tensed in anticipation. You didn't expect him so early. After his assignments, he usually barged in the middle of the night and not in the light of day. You didn't complain, though. You missed him.

You gently knocked on the bathroom door when you heard muffled sounds from another side. “Hey,” your voice was calm and soothing. “Can I come in? Do you need help?” At this point, you got used to his bruises and stitches, caring only about him getting back home in one piece.

There was something more to his injuries this time.

“Shit,” Leon cursed under his breath again when you stepped into the bathroom, despairing of getting a word out of him. You were worried; he could see it on your face. You quickly noticed his scalded hands, the right one behind his back, hiding something. He looked like a curious teenager who got caught watching adult movies.

“Hey,” his lips stretched into an unnatural smile. “Sorry, I didn't hear you come in…”

“You should've called me,” you scolded him calmly, making a step forward. His body tensed and froze as soon as you stretched your hand toward him, and you held back a frown. “…I would’ve been home in a heartbeat.”

The man’s eyes were bloodshot, his lips chapped, and his breath ragged; and then you saw it—the reflection in the mirror betraying him—his long fingers clinging to the gun. Your mouth went agape, and you dashed forward with a precision of a trained police officer.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, your heart beating in your throat. You were scared—you haven't been that afraid of in ages. Leon gasped, bamboozled, and his hand easily let go of a weapon. You didn’t ask—you slapped him across the face, letting your frustration out. “Are you mad? What were you going to do with this thing?”

You would react differently if he wasn’t hiding it; somehow this bothered you more than anything. After all, Leon should’ve known that you wouldn’t fumble at the sight of a gun, which made his attempts to cover its presence even more pointless.

His cheeks flushed, and he gulped, incapable of looking at you; he was confirming your worst fears, and after giving him a long stare, your hand covered your mouth to stop you from sobbing.

“Moron,” you grunted under your breath. His head got even lower, and you saw a tear falling onto the lightly colored tile. It took you a moment before you grabbed him into an angry, desperate embrace. His hands wrapped around your waist, then one shot into your hair, pressing at the back of your head, pulling you closer. His face was buried into your neck, and his body shook violently as he let himself cry.

You held him painfully close as long as it was necessary. “I am sorry,” you whispered next to his ear while he clung to you like a drowning man to a lifeboat; you sounded hurt and angry—and hopeful. “I am so, so sorry.”

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hihhasotherfixations · 9 months

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John Price headcanons sfw & nsfw P2

Part 1

Here’s some more of my headcanons for this man. They’re a but all over the place, apologies. But enjoy :3

Sfw:

While he himself is not religious, he was brought up in a Christian family.

Speaking of his family, he unfortunately doesn’t have a very big one. He has a father he barely talks to and older sister. His mother passed away from cancer when he was still a lieutenant and because of it, when he got promoted to captain there was no one around - his sister was caught up and stuck with work. It was not a good time for him. Instead of celebrating his accomplishment, he was alone and stricken with memories and grief.

His dad was incredibly strict growing up and Price’s relationship with him is still very strained to this day because of it.

His late mother was very adamant on not swearing and while he tries to uphold that, he’s also been in the military for 19 years. And sometimes (very often) the danger or his men become too much. This has caused him to adopt swearing even though he tries so hard not to. One of his most used swear words however is ‘jesus- fuck’ as it’s become almost a habit to swear with jesus christ, though he always catches himself last moment and tries to divert from swearing with the religious man’s name and says fuck instead.

Price can’t ride a bike. And I don’t mean a motorcycle, he’s fine with those - really good even. But an actual bike? Man can’t do it. Do I say this purely because I find the thought/image of Price on a bicycle cursed? Yes, yes I do.

Price finds it hard to say ‘no’ to the 141 when it comes to small and inconsequential things. Due to this, there was a time where for over a month, the 141 walked into his office, asked him to doodle a cat and then left without a word. And yet he did so every time, confused but content enough whenever they waddled off with their doodle. What he didn’t expect, was to show up on Christmas morning to find a blanket strewn over the couch in the rec room - it’s print being littered with every small cat he had doodled. It is now one of his favourite things.

Not a headcanon but I wanted to let the world know: Price has a tiny birthmark on his nose and it is the most adorable thing in the world. (Thankfully I’m seeing more people bringing attention to it >:3) Because of it, if you repeatedly kiss his nose for that reason? To kiss the birthmark? He’s gonna get really flustered really quickly. Not much will bring this man to a stop mid order-giving, but that would shut him up real quick ;3

He does not like singing but you can often catch him humming when doing something such as cooking or cleaning. He doesn’t really realise he’s doing it so don’t point it out! Otherwise he’s gonna be conscious of it and you won’t hear it for a month or two.

Terrible at golf. Gaz once took him golfing cause he thought that’s something Price enjoyed/was good at. It in fact turned into Price getting frustrated and nearly obliterating the golfbal with how hard he hit it. He gave up after that.

This is more logistics that I keep for myself but Price was in the British army for 4 years before he moved to enlist in the SAS.

Loves, loves, loves playing with your hair if you let him. Sitting/cuddling on the couch? His fingers are touching it in some way. Kissing? His hand is keeping your head near his via the back of your neck and his thumb will be rubbing back and forth over the hair there.

Pretty sure 90% of people share this headcanon but good LORD his sneezes. They are loud and you can hear him from across the field. He then proceeds to shrug it off like they’re nothing.

Man has the sharpest and loudest finger whistle and 100% uses it on his men to get their attention. Both the 141 and the soldiers he reigns over as captain. It’s a noise ingrained into every single person who has served with him and will get them to shoot straight and pay attention instantly.

This is a little more niche. But this man sucks at almost every game except for survival games. FPS? Absolute shit, will get maybe one bullet to hit before dying. Horror? While he doesn’t jump at the jump scares, if he is being chased by a monster or a killer, you can almost guarantee he will die. But survival games?? Give him the forest (kinda) or Subnautica to play and this man will absolutely tear it up. You can leave him for an hour or two and when you come back he’ll have crafted a base and be halfway through the game.

This includes Minecraft. Kinda. Man is an absolute god at building, but do not send him into the mines. You will see a message pop up of him falling into lava or dying by mobs every 5 minutes.

Basically any game where he’s not in constant danger, he’s fine.

Avid peanut butter enjoyer.

If Price were to ever have children, he would try very hard to give them the childhood he never had. He would not deny those kids of anything. They want to go outside in the rain to play in the mud? Alright, let him get the raincoats, he’ll wash the dirty, muddy clothes later (he is 100% out there with his kids, splashing them or letting them push him into puddles).

In the same vein, he would try very hard to separate work and life. Sure he might need to get stern sometimes and tell the rambunctious rascals off, but he tries very hard to do so in his dad voice, not in his captain voice. It would still happen sometimes though and he’d feel absolutely awful. Especially if he makes his kids cry because of it.

One of his favourite songs is Escape by Rupert Holmes (The piña colada song). You can oftentimes hear it and songs like that softly playing in his office while he’s doing paperwork.

Not really a headcanon and don’t ask me why, but this donkey is giving me Price vibes: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJV6o5cB/

While he smokes cigars, he’s not at all a chain smoker. Usually saves them for moments where he feels he earns them (after a mission, completing paperwork he really didn’t want to do etc), high stress, or when he’s really craving one.

In a similar topic, he hates cigarettes. Tried one when he was younger, hated it and instead unfortunately took over the cigar habit from his father (when said man was home). Because of this however, he can’t stand to smoke with Laswell. She tries sometimes - cause while she’s trying to quit, it’s hard - but Price only allows it if she’s upwind from him, blowing her smoke away from him.

He stubs his toe SO often. Don’t get me wrong, when out on the field, every step is calculated and precise and you will never in your life see him slip up. It’s a different matter entirely when he’s on leave or just around base though. His body doesn’t need to be on edge 24/7 anymore. Which means that if you’ve served under him, you’ve heard him curse out a door for daring to stand open in the way it did. When he’s at home with you? Double so. He tends to walk around without shoes at home - logically so. Which means his poor toes meet cupboards, table/chair legs and doors a bit too often. He’ll swear less when at home tho, more… take-a-deep-breath-to-control-the-rage kind of reaction.

For the love of god, call him pretty. It’s just- it does something with him. He’s heard handsome, rugged, manly, weathered, etc. And don’t get me wrong, if you call him any of those? Pride bursts through his chest and he’ll make sure to repay you in kind. But if it’s just you and him on the couch, leaned into each other, the tv softly playing? Just a quiet moment? And you call him pretty? It heals something in him.

Has once overheard soldiers insulting/mocking his facial hair and definitely made them shit themselves when he appeared behind them with his full 6”2 (188cm) buffed up captain stance - arms crossed with the most vicious glare you can even imagine. Also definitely made them run until they dropped and then do it again or gave them toilet duty for a month. It also definitely wasn’t only one time he overheard someone.

He’s an absolute history buff. At one point he seriously considered to become a history teacher but at that point he was too far into his military career. He didn’t feel like he could leave his men. It also felt like he’d have wasted years of his life and going back to school wasn’t really on his ‘want to do’ list at that age. So instead he opted he’d be of better use to the world right where he was.

If you allow him to infodump however? He will absolutely tell you the most random facts. Disturbing ones too. He just wants to tell you cool facts, its a way of showing love :)

Quality time often consists of him sitting beside you while you do whatever. He’s either reading a book or doing a puzzle, if he can he will have one hand on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing it while his mind is elsewhere (its a bit hard when he does puzzles with one hand, but he makes it work)

In the vein of those puzzles, he absolutely LOVES them. If you come home with a newspaper saying “I got this for you!” and show him the not-yet-made puzzle, he will absolutely fall a little bit more in love with you every time. That’s his form of you coming home with roses for him.

Ridiculously good at crosswords. Very rarely has to look up an answer. He also tends to ask you out loud. Not per se to actually ask you though. It’s more of a way of thinking out loud. “What’s a six letter word for a cloud formation in space? …Nebula, thank you.” And then just moves on without you ever having said a word, not even realising he does it.

He always feels guilty when leaving you for long periods of time due to work. Tries very hard to make up for it, even if you assure him he doesn’t have to.

He does things while on missions that he is not proud of. He does not tell you any of the more inhumane things he’s done because he’s terrified it’ll change your perception of him.

These moments haunt his every moment however. Sleeping and awake. You are his only escape.

He is not proud of a lot of things. But the 141 is one of them.

Kyle is one of the most prominent ones. From when he found him in Piccadilly to the elite soldier he is today, Price is incredibly proud of who he’s become. Though he’s also very worried for the danger he’s put the younger man in by dragging him into this world.

Price also makes sure to look after Ghost. Strangely enough, he feels almost responsible for what happened to Ghost despite him having nothing to do with it. Because of it however, he feels very protective over the man and tries to treat him the best he can.

Soap is someone who he sees a lot of himself in. So he always tries to push the man to be better than he was. Price sees the potential Soap has in furthering his military career and if the moment came to it, he’d recommend the man for a promotion in a heartbeat. Soap is someone he always trusts in.

He has a lot of scars on his body from his years of service. If he feels you run your fingers over the scar and you ask him about them, he’s okay with telling you about how he got it. Even if he spares the details sometimes.

Lastly, if Laswell and her wife ever got a child, Price would 100% be the favourite uncle and regular babysitter whenever he’s off deployment.

That’s it for the regular headcanons again :3 Please respect the banner and onto depravity.

Nsfw:

Whenever he’s making out with you, he LOVES having a hand on your throat. Not to squeeze. Never to squeeze. He does not like the thought of choking you at all, brings bad memories. But he is addicted to the thrum of your heartbeat underneath his fingertips. The submission that comes with it as you let him hold a place so vulnerable while he attacks your lips.

Doesn’t have to be during sex either. You two can be cuddling on the couch and he’ll gently pull you in by your neck or throat and press his lips into yours. Or push you up against the wall by it when you greet him as he comes home. Just let him hold you and move you like that.

Fingerprint bruises. Oh my god he properly leaves them whenever you two are having an especially… passionate night.

Don’t get him wrong though! He’ll kiss the bruises and apologise after, even if seeing them sends a flutter down his spine. Loves walking up to you and slotting his fingers right over the marks, careful and appreciative as his hands fill up the spots.

Man loves biting and nipping any place of you he can reach. Have I mentioned how much he loves leaving his marks on you? Hickeys and imprints of his teeth e v e r y w h e r e. (Won’t go above the collar if you don’t want him to)

Depending on how okay you are with it, he’ll definitely bite hard. He’s holding you in a mating press, kissing you to hell and back and when his hips start to stutter, when that telltale spark begins to come up, he’ll divert to where your neck meets your shoulder and bite while fucking the last few strokes into you, muffling his groans and noises of pleasure into your skin.

He has once broken skin while doing it, he felt absolutely awful after it. Immediately after coming down from his high and realising what he did, he went to go get the med kit from the bathroom. Naked and sweaty, he waddled away and back, concern and guilt as he disinfected the wound and dressed it, pressing a million apologies to you.

While it is rare to get him to actually fully give the reins to you and be submissive, when he does, call him by his honorifics still. Praise him with them. “You’re doing so good for me, captain” , “Are you feeling good, sir?” Whisper things like that in his ear and he’ll be whining and desperate for you like never before.

Man has a raging breeding kink. Will absolutely fill you up as many times if he can. Just the sight of seeing his cum leaking out of you instantly gets him going for a second round. The possessive side of him comes out thanks to the thought of you walking around with a piece of him inside you.

I don’t know if I mentioned it in p1 of this but he’s an absolute aftercare KING. Literally won’t want you to do anything. He’s cleaning you up with a towel first and foremost, gentle and careful - especially if he was a little rougher that day. After that, if you’ll let him, he’ll run a bath or shower for you and gently wash you himself. Kisses, cuddles and clean sheets are all in his service.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #price headcanons

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