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httpsserene · 7 months

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances.

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done? he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals.

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you.

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not.

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone.

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls.

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down.

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body.

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

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loveshotzz · 9 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him.

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked.

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that.

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant.

He’s not Steve.

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk?

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily.

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again.

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place.

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward.

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him.

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you.

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.”

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?”

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears. He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question.

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.”

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad.

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more.

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath.

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead.

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

#my wriitng #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #older!steve #older!steve harrington

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koolades-world · 1 year

Text

More Obey me! Headcannons

had so much fun last time I wanted to do it again

Satan is so smart, but has issues doing basic math and refuses to admit it, like he can’t figure out fifteen plus seven without his fingers or a calculator (is this me projecting? maybe)

Belphie bought himself and Mc matching house slippers. Mc thought Beel felt left out and made Belphie buy a pair for him too

Beel has a huge green thumb, and takes upon himself to save plants he thinks are sad or lonely. He buys the dying plants from the store to bring back to life (partially inspired by the chat where someone, forgot who, told beel that if he talked to plants they would grow faster my precious baby)

Lucifer is the best cook at the HoL, but rarely has time to cook. Beel is the second best but usually eats the ingredients before he can make anything with them. Mammon is probably the worst because Levi can make food from animes almost perfectly

Asmo once almost set a store he was collaborating with on fire with his rage alone because they spelt his name wrong

Beel probably needs a new toothbrush every couple weeks. Belphie probably gets toothbrushes mixed up and uses ones that aren’t his

Lucifer and Solomon like prune juice haha old men

The one thing Luke and Simeon have seriously disagreed on is if raisins belong in dessert. Michael likes them, so Luke does too. Simeon thinks they’re awful but never directly says it, so Lucifer usually says it for him

Despite always being online, Levi had not once checked his RAD email. He has 9,999+ emails, probably a lot more because 9,999 is where it stops counting

Mammon collects cool rocks and keeps them in a box under his bed

Satan’s hands are always freezing, so he sticks them under Mc (or a cat) when possible, or uses a charmed hot water bottle from Solomon that stays warm for days at a time

Solomon and Asmo have had matching bracelet sets for as long as they’ve known each other, and since they didn’t make them anymore, they got some custom done for Mc so they could also have them

For about 1,000 years, Thirteen though jelly beans were an actual kind of bean and Solomon never let her let it go

The first food Mc and Mammon ate on a date in the human world together was Taiyaki, so he made it a point to learn how to make them to surprise Mc (even though he’s a terrible cook) (I might make this a fic since I like this idea so much)

Diavolo has always wanted a Devildom version of a hamster but Barbatos refused to have any kind of rodent in the castle, rat or not

Luke probably downloads those stupid app games with the ads unironically

Satan’s favorite Disney Princess is Ariel because she ran off to do what she wanted without caring what her father thought, it’s giving daddy issues. He’s probably considered running off and marrying Mephisto to make Lucifer angry

Raphael unironically enjoys off brand chips and soda

Lucifer is a nail biter, and Asmo is helping him curve the habit by putting a nasty tasting top coat when he does his nails, and it’s also why he wears gloves all the time.

Belphie and Satan once went up to the humans world together to mess with people in Salem, Massachusetts with magic, which spawned several conspiracy theory books. They read them together and laugh as a past time

Diavolo once went to the human world in his demon form for,, reasons, and accidentally got written into ancient mythology because he got spotted by humans

Barbatos had a home garden for cooking and sometimes lets Asmo have leaves from some of the plants to make homemade skin care products

Mammon probably has lots of earwax. Don’t share your earbuds with him unless you make him clean them afterwards

Belphie has a really large water bottle that’s always on his side table. He wakes up randomly though the night, chugs an ungodly amount of water and then passed out again. In the mornings he has to piss really bad but is too lazy to get up and actually do it, so he just sits and complains. Even Beel isn’t sure how he’s able to drink that much water in a short amount of time

Satan likes waking up early to enjoy the morning air and read outside for a while since mornings can get hectic with his brothers

Thirteen’s favorite torture device is the Iron Maiden. She had her own that she bedazzled. Even Asmo is jealous and wants her to make him one too

Mammon introduced Diavolo to Gatorade, and instead of sneaking behind Lucifer and Barbatos’s backs to drink Demonus, they have secret Gatorade meetings

Diavolo and Lucifer definitely both had a hidden Dialuci stash of things and probably clash trying to collect limited edition things online

None of the Obey me cast took birthdays or passing of years seriously until Mc entered the picture and suddenly time was precious, and they actually kept track. Because of this, nobody is really sure how old the twins are

Mephisto thinks roosters want world domination

Asmo thinks cilantro tastes like soap and Levi thinks anything cola flavored tastes like cough medicine

Mammon's favorite party trick is one Mc taught him, which is rolling his tongue Everyone he meets, including his brothers, thinks it's so cool when really it's just a genetic thing

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in1-nutshell · 3 months

Note

Hello! Sorry I’ve been putting a lot of asks. You can feel free to push this one later. I just wanted to submit this ask while I still remembered this idea. A while ago I read your post about Optimus Prime with a daughter who was his exact opposite, and I loved that one! So may I request a similar idea with TFP Ratchet? Like TFP Ratchet with a daughter bot Buddy who is his exact opposite. Like who had a gentle and sweet and that “Does it hurt here? Aww, you poor thing” “Hey you are doing so much better! Aww! Great job” type of classic cartoon nurse personality, as well as the classic “I love these little creatures! Can we keep them? Father pleaaase?” type of little girl personality (probably to the humans, to Ratchet’s dismey). And she also looked up to Arcee a lot. Like, A LOT! Her absolute idol! she would want to copy every way Arcee talk and behave (even the bad examples)(much to Ratchet’s dismay) and copying the way Arcee battle too. And thanks to Arcee she now wished she could join the battlefield and do all these wonderful cool and dangerous things too! (Once again, much to Ratchet’s dismey)

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! YES! Give Ratchet a child!

Hope you enjoy!

Ratchet with a daughter who has the exact opposite personality to his own

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Buddy was originally a sparkling from a dear friend of Ratchet and Orion Pax’s.

Their caregiver was an extremely pacifistic bot who wanted nothing more than peace on Cybertron. But once in a while the caregiver would join a rally with Pax and Ratchet. They believed in change and agreed something needed to be done.

They sadly passed away from natural causes one day when they dropped Buddy off at his clinic to pick up some rust sticks for Buddy. The two friends were devastated hearing the news while the sparkling was happily playing around with her toys.

Their caregiver had placed Ratchet as the primary care giver if anything should happen, Orion was to be the sparkling godparent.

Ratchet took on the new duties immediately.

It was the least he could do for his friend and the sparkling.

Ratchet made sure to let the sparkling know what happened to their caregiver when they were older.

“And that’s the story.”--Ratchet

“So, they’re really gone then?”--Buddy

“Yes…”--Ratchet

“…Does that mean I can’t tell bots you’re my caregiver?”--Buddy

“What?”--Ratchet

“I mean, you take care of me, you feed me, you help me with stuff I don’t know, you helped me choosing my alt mode, you let me rant when things get too much, and you love me… right?”--Buddy

“Of course, I do!”--Ratchet

“Then?”--Buddy

“…I am…I…”--Ratchet

“You don’t have to say it if you aren’t ready. I love you, you take your time.”--Buddy

“… I love you, Buddy. I love you, my sparkling.”--Ratchet

“To Luna 1 and back?”--Buddy

“To Luna 1 and back.”--Ratchet

The sparkling grew up with a peculiar personality contrasting his.

She wasn’t as sarcastic as he was. If fact it was rare to hear her say sarcastic things. Buddy rather expressed herself open when she could.

“Hi Arcee! Hi Cliffjumper! How was patrol this evening?”--Buddy

“It was fine. Not a Con in sight.”--Arcee

“And too bad too. We would have knocked out their processors out right away!”--Cliffjumper

“Any wounds today? Dents? Dinges? Scratches?”--Buddy

“Yeah I think some of the gravel clipped my servos.”--Cliffjumper

“Oh! Let me!—”--Buddy

“He was joking Buddy.”—Arcee

“Oh…”--Buddy

“…But I do have some cool looking rocks to add to your collection.”—Cliffjumper

“Really! Awesome! Let me go get my collection right now!”—Buddy

“Nice save.”--Arcee

“No thanks to you ‘Cee.”--Cliffjumper

She was a very sensitive individual and extremely empathetic in nature. Just like her former Caregiver, a near perfect image of them.

That being said, Buddy did pick up some of Ratchet’s habits.

Sleep schedule? Never heard of them.

Perfectionist? Absolutely.

Think highly of a certain bot? Yes, but not the same one.

Buddy cleaning some of the medical equipment.

Bumblebee coming out from his habsuite.

“Beep beop! (Morning Buddy!)”--Bumblebee

“Morning? But it was just—oh! God morning Bumblebee!”--Buddy

“Beep… bep bep bop? (Buddy… how many hours did you sleep?)”--Bumblebee

“… So, are you going to pick up Raf today?”--Buddy

“Bep beep (Like Daughter like Father)”--Bumblebee

“Hey!”--Buddy

“Bep bop? (Am I wrong?)”--Bumblebee

“…No…”--Buddy

Buddy stayed by Ratchet’s side through the thick and thin as his nurse. It seemed like the best role for Buddy to play. They did get taught by the very best anyways.

The kids for the longest time thought that Buddy was simply a student to Ratchet.

“Hey Buddy, do you have parents?”--Miko

“Miko!”--Jack

“What it’s a valid question.”--Miko

“Umm… I’m confused. You know him already.”--Buddy

“Wait your parent is one of the bots on the Team?”--Raf

“Yes? I thought you knew already.”--Buddy

“Who is it! I bet its Optimus!”--Miko

“Actually, he is my godparent as you’d say it on Earth.”--Buddy

“Then who?”--Raf

“Ratchet.”--Buddy

“RATCHET!?”--Miko

“What’s wrong?!”--Ratchet

“You’re Buddy’s dad!?”--Miko

“Yes? I thought you knew already.”--Ratchet

“That’s what I said!”--Buddy

“But how—I want a Cybertronain DNA test, cause there is no way sweety Buddy is related to salty you.”--Miko

“I’m actually adopted Miko.”--Buddy

“Oh?”--Miko

“But that doesn’t mean you aren’t my daughter, Buddy.”--ratchet

“And that doesn’t mean you aren’t my father Ratchet.”--Buddy

“Wow…”--Jack

“This is too cute I’m going to go puke.”--Miko

“And you ruined it.”--Jack

This clears a lot of things for the humans.

Buddy was the eldest of the youngest group on Team Prime. She took her job as big sister seriously with Bumblebee and later with Smokescreen. She made sure to always be there for them in any way she could figure out was necessary.

The two bots enjoyed having someone have their backs and fixing them when they came back from patrol.

“Hey Smokes’, you’re doing amazing there.”--Buddy

“Really?”--Smokescreen

“Yeah, just a bit longer and you’ll be on your pedes in no time!”--Buddy

“Yeah!”--Smokescreen

“Then you can start the physical therapy.”--Buddy

“Can I skip that?”--Smokescreen

“Did I studder?”—Buddy

CRUNCH!

Bumblebee accidentally crushed a tool with his pede.

“Bee… Honeybee… I needed that.”--Buddy

Ratchet on the other side of the base.

“…I suddenly feel proud for some reason?”--Ratchet

Like Ratchet Buddy looked up to certain teammates.

While Ratchet looked up to Optimus, Buddy looked up to Arcee.

Buddy saw a hero and great friend in Arcee.

A part of Buddy, like Ratchet, wished she could do more to help the team. When she saw Arcee sparring and hearing the retellings of her stories, she could only imagine doing the stuff Arcee could do.

“Then what happened?”--Buddy

“That’s when me and Cliff went into the groundbridge while Shockwave shot at us with his canon.”--Arcee

“I remember hearing that cliff was knocked unconscious when he went into the portal. What did you do to Shockwave?”—Buddy

“Are you sure you want to know?”--Arcee

“Absolutely!”--Buddy

“Heh…I shot the Cyclops right in that giant optic of his! He fell straight back to Cybertron with a BANG!”--Arcee

“COOL!”—Buddy

“Please don’t influence my child.”--Ratchet

“No promises.”--Arcee

“Yeah, no promises!”--Buddy

“…Maybe you were right…”--Arcee

Ratchet just hopes that Buddy doesn’t follow Arcee exactly.

He is too old for these jump scares.

And its not like Buddy would go into battle with nothing more than their med kit for Arcee alone, right?

Right?

#transformers x reader #transformers #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp arcee #tfp arcee x platonic reader #tfp ratchet #tfp ratchet x platonic reader

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dearharriet · 2 months

Note

hi, beautiful! congrats on your 150! I wanted to request James Potter +Tangled on your

🪷 send me a character + one of the following movies to write a drabble for...

(English is definitely not my first language so I'm sorry if this isn't sp clear)

thank you, gorgeous! this was such a fun combo to start off with <3 also, your request was perfect, so don’t worry! (wc: 882)

Lush green turns yellow and purple at sunset, and you can’t get enough of it. It’s like the whole world is wrapped around you, cool and prickly and real and right beneath your fingertips.

The stream is smooth and lazy, shining an image of the pink sky back at your hung head. You focus on that instead of the mounting fear of spending your first night outside the tower.

Under the intensity of the setting sun, the foliage around your camp takes on matching shadows. The contrast is scary, but it’s also beautiful, something you’d love to paint if you had your supplies.

That’s a dangerous path of thought, one that you shut down immediately. Even brushing against the idea of paint makes your insides wither with dread, reminded of your poor mother who’d gone to get you more—your mother who’s likely worried sick about you now.

“Alright?”

Lifting from your mopey posture, you find your companion returning with a sizable collection of firewood.

James seems to be in good spirits, all things considered. He’s been nice enough, though you can admit you’d worried that the guard-chase and near drowning might sour his attitude.

“I’m great,” you reassure him, plastering a smile on your face. Now’s not the time to show any weakness, no matter how frightened you might be.

Returning with a grimace, James dumps his armful where he stands and approaches you.

“Y’know, it’s not too late to go home.”

James has been saying this at every juncture of your adventure, desperate to dump you back at your tower and be rid of you. There’s no reason for that to sting now, after everything.

“Uh-uh. If you want me gone, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

With a frown, he settles in next to you, watching the horizon hesitantly.

“As if,” he says, though he’s lacking any real quip. “No, I just uh…I know all this wasn’t what you had in mind when you set out with me.”

You fiddle with a strand of hair. He’s really asking, you realize. With a puff of nervous laughter, you shake his sobriety off.

“Well, I didn’t really have anything in mind. Tall tower, remember?”

“Yeah,” James scoffs, “yeah, a pretty safe tower, too. And spacious.”

“And lonely,” you add.

Sighing, he nods his reluctant agreement.

“True, but there are worse things out there than being lonely, sweetheart. Things that might really hurt you.”

You take that in, staring at James with an odd curiosity. His shoulders are hunched around his ears, his hair flopping untamed into his eyes—courtesy of the unplanned swim you both took. It’s like looking at a completely different person, seeing James without his criminal bravado. Seeing him…unsure.

“James Potter, are you…are you worried about me?”

He straightens immediately, and while you mourn the loss of the gooey center you caught a glimpse of, you like to see him squirm, too.

“Wha-hat? Please. No, I'm trying to get away from you, and if you die you might be able to haunt me. I’m taking preliminary steps to prevent that.”

“Right,” you snip back sarcastically, “haunting.”

You might be sheltered, but you’re old enough now to know that ghosts aren’t real. James seems to see this in your expression, so he stands petulantly and stalks back towards his pile of sticks.

“Whatever, I’m not talking afterlife with a girl whose hair glows.”

Laughing, you watch him go, now truly missing his window of sincerity. For a sudden moment you almost feel it’s worse to be lonely outside of your tower than in it, and it sends a crack of fear down your center all over again.

Gathering some of your hair in your arms, you hold it to you like a stuffed toy, searching for any comfort you can find.

“James?”

“What now, trouble?”

Worrying your lip, you begin to second guess yourself, but an impatient glance from James encourages you.

“Do you really think I’d be better off going back?”

This takes his attention again, his hands ceasing their fire-building. Over the small pit he’d assembled, he considers you, jaw working.

You know what he’ll say, your frame braced for his resounding yes. You’re not sure why the thought carves your chest open when he’s never been anything but against this agreement. You wanted to prove your mother wrong, show her how capable you are, but it seems everybody but you agrees on the falsity of that statement.

Eventually, James sighs, a self-abasing sound that doesn’t give you much hope.

“Do you really want to see those lanterns?”

Once again, he seems completely sincere in his asking.

Even though you know the answer, know it like your own name, you stop to consider his question and all it entails. Not just if you want to see the lanterns, but if you’re willing to do what it takes to make it there. So far, you haven’t disappointed yourself, and you find the insatiable fire in your belly is only burning hotter than when you left.

“More than anything,” you say, and you make sure to steel your voice with all the determination you feel. James smiles, that small window returning.

“Then don’t let anything stand in your way,” he tells you, his eyes locked on yours. “Not even me.”

thank you for reading! xx

join the celebration!

masterlist

#harriet’s 150 celebration #james potter #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james potter blurb #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter au #marauders au #marauders fandom #harry potter

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patchworkgargoyle · 8 months

Text

you are all my symmetry 💕

Happy birthday to the fantastic, hilarious, talented, and wonderful @steves-strapcollection 💖💖💖 It's been such a delight having you as my friend, I hope you enjoy this very fluffy and smutty celebration in your honour! You deserve all of it and more.

Many, many thanks to @scarcrossdlvrs and @sidekick-hero for your cheerleading and excellent beta skills!!

Pairing: Steddissy || Rating: E || CW: PWP, unsafe sex, Dom/sub undertones || Words: ~5.6k || Ao3

It started like most good ideas: as a joke.

Eddie groaned and let his head fall on the back of the couch, wincing when the worn down cushion did nothing to protect his skull. “I just don’t get it! It’s cuffing season. I wanna get cuffed!” His hands flailed in the air before landing on Chrissy’s thighs with a slap that made her jump.

“Ow,” she grumbled, and he gave her an apologetic look where she was tucked up against the arms of both the couch and Steve.

“I just can’t believe you’re both still single,” Steve said.

Eddie snorted. “Me? I believe it.” Though he’d said it quietly, both Steve and Chrissy smacked his arm.

“Don’t say that, Eddie. You’re a catch, that asshole wasn’t worth your time.” Chrissy took his hand in hers, her Christmas-themed manicure sparkling in contrast to his usual chipped black polish. Every time he looked at their hands together he was amazed at how small Chrissy’s were.

While what she said might’ve been true, it gets pretty fucking demoralizing when each and every person before him hadn’t been “worth his time” either. Eddie couldn’t seem to get past a second date, unless they were hitting him up for a booty call, and god, he was tired of that too. He was craving more. Something like this, but–

But not like this this. He told himself the answer didn’t lie in Chrissy’s soft hand in his and Steve’s thigh warm along his own. Or in the way Chrissy relaxed across both their laps while Steve stretched his arm across the back of the couch to touch Eddie’s shoulder. No matter what his stupid, traitorous little heart thought. Because they were friends.

“You’re a catch too, Chris,” Eddie said instead of what was actually on his mind. Her shy smile in reply made his heart skip.

“Exactly,” Steve said definitively, “you’re both great. Gorgeous, funny, smart. I don’t understand why neither of you are taken yet.”

Chrissy raised a teasing eyebrow at him. “Says the guy who’s also currently single.”

“Yeah, well.” His fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on their shared couch. Eddie remembered the day he and Steve hauled it home from the thrift store because Robin took the old one when she moved in with Vickie. Turns out, moving furniture in the middle of summer was hell, and not at all because seeing Steve’s hair fall into his face and stick to his sweaty forehead drove Eddie a bit insane. Not at all.

“I’m not looking right now, I think,” Steve finished.

Taking a hit from his joint, Eddie let his thoughts collect while the smoke sat in his lungs. On the exhale, he said through the smoke, “Maybe Chris and I should stop looking too. Don’t they say something about that?” The two confused expressions levelled at him made Eddie shrug. “I dunno, something about love happening when you’re not looking for it or least expect it or some shit.”

Steve’s lips pursed in a thoughtful–or possibly a more confused–frown as he nodded slowly. “Sure…”

“That’d be nice,” Chrissy sighed wistfully. Her head tilted, landing on Steve’s shoulder, and he squeezed her closer.

Eddie watched as two of his best friends and the most gorgeous people he knew curled up into each other. They looked so good together it was almost unfair, like the sun and the stars, and Eddie’s chest ached like a greedy black hole. He saw how they looked at each other sometimes. Glances taken when they thought no one was watching. Eddie watched, though, even when he didn’t want to, often didn’t realise when he did. Maybe now that they were both single they’d finally get together like he always thought they would. The thought left a sour swirling in Eddie’s gut that he mentally berated himself for.

He would be happy for them if they became a couple. Truly, he would. That churning jealousy could go fuck itself. In an effort to smoke it out, Eddie took another hit.

Fingers tapped on his shoulder, so Eddie passed the joint to Steve at his wordless demand. Chrissy nicked it from Steve’s fingers after he was done and wrapped her pretty lips around the filter. Quietly they sat in their collective haze of smoke and sluggish thoughts while sinking further into the couch. Until Steve took a deep breath, then giggled.

“I could help, y’know. With your dry spells.” He stared at Chrissy, then Eddie, then wiggled his brows twice with a dopey smirk.

Eddie barked a laugh while Chrissy giggled, but Eddie couldn’t deny that the idea was tempting. He didn’t have the mental fortitude to shove those not-exactly-friend-shaped feelings away like usual, blooming in his chest when he couldn’t bury it. Fuck. The images were… sexy, all the ones that he tried to ignore late at night with his fingers on or in himself. He coughed to hide the rising flush in his face.

“You’re funny, man,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes and hoping the butterflies died an inglorious death.

“Hey, I mean it. Come knock on my door if you guys get desperate enough.” Steve had a clearly fake salacious look on his face, sending them all into fits of laughter again until Chrissy started talking about their Christmas plans, the previous topic all but forgotten.

Or that’s what Eddie thought.

The next few weeks were, well, interesting. Eddie kept catching himself looking more often, watching Steve and Chrissy. Whether they went out in a rush to find last minute presents or try to scrounge up party decorations for the New Years bash they’d been strong-armed into hosting, Eddie couldn’t stop being drawn to his friends more than usual. Like that black hole in his chest had a gravitational pull.

He bumped shoulders with Steve more, or whacked him with the back of his hand; really, Eddie found any excuse he could to just touch him more. Or make him laugh.

Eddie told a joke–a pun awful enough that it’d make even Dustin groan–and Steve laughed, a full on head-tilting-back, echoing guffaw that made Eddie’s insides light up like fireworks with delight. Time felt like it slowed down. He could see the snowflakes catching on Steve’s long lashes, the rosiness on his cheeks that was probably just from the chill in the air all while bundled up in a soft, navy blue scarf Eddie had given him a few years ago. It was devastating.

He flitted around Chrissy like a moth to a flame–or, more like a gentle bedside lamp. Darted in to sweep her up in a big hug and spin her around, or made funny faces that made her let out those chime-like giggles of hers.

When they’d wandered through Millenium Park, Chrissy gasped at the giant glimmering tree that they set up every year, her awed “Wow” so precious he ached with the need to wrap her in his arms and bury his face in her neck. Eddie hated the holidays, but her wonder and joy at every single part of it made him want to be less of a Grinch. It didn’t hurt that she looked so beautiful with the lights sparkling in her blue eyes and her hair a little mussed from the wind.

God, Eddie wanted them so badly. It was like Steve’s words had turned Eddie’s guilty, furtive desires up to eleven.

And while he noticed all of that, he also saw that Steve and Chrissy were watching each other as well.

It makes sense. Steve has mentioned a few times how pretty he thinks Chrissy is, and she’d joked with Eddie about how hot Steve looks at the gym. They yell about their sports, and work out together while bitching about their least favourite professors, and rave about the same music; so, of course, they’d be a great couple. Eddie’s the odd one out, as is his niche. Though the growing jealousy gnaws at his bones, he’s determined to face their inevitable getting-together with endless support and happiness. He’ll get over the dark, selfish parts of himself eventually.

What Eddie doesn’t notice, amongst all his observations, is that sights have been set on him, too.

The holidays came and went in a blur. Eddie visited Wayne over Christmas, a quiet affair with just the two of them. Like every year they gave each other weird novelty mugs–Eddie’s, a bat hanging upside down that says I’m Fruity; Wayne’s, a remix of Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me so ridiculous Wayne nearly dropped it while cackling–and a few other gifts. He practically lived in the soft, deep green sweater Wayne gave him, and that Steve and Chrissy gushed over when he sent a selfie to their group chat. The pics he got in return, of Steve beaming with Robin, and Chrissy equally happy with her grandparents’ ancient dog, made Eddie grin so wide Wayne shook his head with an all too knowing roll of his eyes.

Steve stayed with Vickie and Robin at the Buckley’s house, and Chrissy visited her grandparents down south, so they all got some distance. Breathing room. It wasn’t like Steve’s offer was serious. They were all high, and lonely during one of those times of year when anyone who’s single feels at least a twinge of yearning. Eddie, personally, blames the Hallmark shit that gets shovelled down their throats, even though Chrissy and Steve both glare at him when he rants about it.

He knew he was right, anyway.

By the time Eddie got home he figured he’d gotten over the feelings that had been winding their sticky tendrils throughout his rib cage. He dragged his luggage and weary feet up the narrow stairs of their third-floor walk up, looking forward to collapsing on his bed after a seemingly endless flight, and let himself in with a grateful sigh.

“Honey, I’m home!” he warbled. Soft laughter from the living room greeted him, and when he glanced over he saw Chrissy and Steve cuddled up on the couch.

“Which one of us is honey?” Steve asked with a wink that made Eddie’s face heat and his heart sink to his toes. So it happened. They were together. Cool. Shit. Great. He could improv when D&D went off plan, he could handle this.

“Whichever one of you is sweeter,” he replied, though even Eddie could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“I think you’re both pretty sweet.”

Chrissy’s tone made Eddie pause. She said it slowly, syrupy, and just suggestively enough to make his face blush even more. Fumbling through getting his boots off, Eddie let out a reedy laugh. “Well shucks, Chris,” was all he could think to reply with.

“How was your flight?” Steve asked.

“Oh, y’know, nothing more luxurious than economy seats on a Delta flight. Really the pinnacle of air travel. I could write a song to the beat of the kid kicking my seat.” Eddie flung his keys into the bowl by the door and started for his room.

They both laughed with sympathetic smiles. “Sorry man.” Steve nodded at the TV, before looking back to Eddie. “Do you wanna watch a movie with us, celebrate being home?”

Chrissy nodded encouragingly. “Please, Eddie? We missed you.”

The way they looked at him made something ping in the back of Eddie’s mind, something that had him wanting to run. “Uhh, nah, I think I’m gonna hit the hay. Really tuckered out. Enjoy the movie though, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He winced internally at his stupid choice of words and scurried off to his room without another glance at the couple.

Shutting the door with a sigh, he leaned against it and wished he could let his head thunk on the wood. Maybe a few times, just to knock the irritating turmoil out of his brain. Lacking that option, he chose to unpack, giving his nervous energy something to do while he corralled his stupid pining. Through the slamming of his dresser drawers and the woosh of clothes slammed into his laundry basket, Eddie didn’t hear the discussion going on in the living room, nor the pair of footsteps approaching his door until a polite knock sounded.

He paused. Waited. Worried. Then, through the door:

“Eddie? Sorry, we just. Um. We wanna talk to you?”

While Eddie could be a stubborn bastard at times, he could never resist Chrissy when she sounded like that, concerned and hopeful. He could imagine her puppy dog eyes, pretty and pleading, after years of them being wielded against him for the last of whatever treat they’d been sharing. Swallowing, he walked over and opened the door.

Their relief was obvious. Steve’s shoulders lowered and Chrissy beamed. “Hey,” she said softly.

“What can I do for you fine folks?” he replied.

Steve looked at Chrissy for a moment, then back to Eddie when she nodded. This was it. Eddie braced himself for the news of a happy new couple, drew up the remains of his energy and prepared to shower them in excitement and encouragement while trying to desperately hold the leash of the snapping, ravenous maw of jealousy inside him.

“Do you remember my offer?”

Eddie frowned. Huh? Steve had texted him about getting take-out before Eddie got home, but he’d slammed back a sandwich before the flight. That couldn’t be–

Oh.

Sputtering, Eddie said, “Wait, y-you mean that offer?” They nodded, and Eddie could only blink.

“You don’t have to, of course. Chrissy and I talked yesterday, though, and–”

“And you’re including me?!”

Chrissy giggled. “Of course we are. Steve did proposition both of us. And…” She turned shy, fidgeting with her nails. She’d gotten them re-done for New Years in black and gold and, Eddie noticed with a flash of heat, the nails of her index and middle fingers were both left short. “We both want you to join us if you’re comfortable. We wanted to ease you into it I guess, but you just looked kinda…”

“Bummed out.”

She snorted and gave Steve’s chest a very light smack. “Steve.”

“What?” he complained.

Struggling a little, Eddie blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I thought you’d already started fucking.”

They both blushed a little, while Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “No, we waited for you.”

Eddie mouthed the word waited. They waited for Eddie to get home so he and Chrissy could take Steve up on his offer and, and–fuck each other? Had he entered the horniest Twilight Zone ever? Had the plane crashed and he’d landed in a coma with his best wet dream playing? On a whim, Eddie pinched himself and hissed when it hurt. Steve took Eddie’s hand away from his arm with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re not dreaming.” He said it so evenly, confidently, that Eddie had no choice but to believe him. Then Steve wound their fingers together and started tracing his free hand up Eddie’s arm, leaving sparks in his wake. “We want this, with you. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I offered, honestly.”

Chrissy took Eddie’s other hand, turned it over in her delicate grip and brushed her fingertips along the sensitive skin of his palm. His knees, surprisingly, didn’t buckle when she gazed at him through her lashes. His knees deserved a fucking trophy. “I haven’t either,” she said.

“Holy shit,” Eddie mumbled eloquently. How else was he expected to respond when his two absolutely fucking stunning friends just told him they wanted to have sex with him? Every bit of tiredness left his body at the thought. He felt like he might vibrate so hard he’d go into a quantum state and fall through the floor.

When he took too long to respond, they started pulling their hands away, but Eddie stopped them with a fumbling grasp. “No, no wait. Holy shit. You’re serious.”

Steve’s hopeful smile turned leisurely sinful. Stepping closer, he replied in a low tone Eddie had heard snatches of through their shared, thin wall, “Dead serious, baby,” and Eddie shivered.

“We can talk more about it, if you want,” Chrissy said as she laid a demure hand on Eddie’s chest. “There’s no rush.”

He shook his head fast enough to send his curls flying. “God no. Fuck, I haven’t stopped thinking about it either. It’s been driving me up the wall. Like, you can’t just go and waggle your eyebrows at us like you did and say that shit and then do nothing about it for weeks and then expect me to wait–”

“Eddie. Shh.” Slowly, Chrissy’s hand slid up to Eddie’s neck, her fingers curling around the back of it while she stared at him with a desire he’d never seen directed at him before. His mouth snapped shut. “I don’t want to wait either. I want to kiss you.”

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, then ducked down to capture her lips in a heated kiss. Freeing the hand she held, Eddie wrapped it around her waist and pulled her close, earning a small sound of surprise. She tasted sweet, like lingering hot chocolate, the softness of her lips addicting.

She was so small compared to Eddie. If it weren’t for the steely command in her voice when she told him she wanted to kiss, he’d almost be tempted to wrap her up and worship her like the princess she deserved to be. The way she gripped his sweater and yanked him closer, though, told him he was in for a very different ride.

There was a slight tickle at the hem of Eddie’s sweater. Steve’s hand started to sneak under the soft wool, his blunt nails scratching softly along Eddie’s pale skin and making him shudder deliciously at the feeling. Steve was a solid presence beside them. Drawn to him, Eddie leaned a little of his weight against Steve’s body, delighted in the way Steve returned the gesture, holding Eddie up as he began to nuzzle Eddie’s hair.

“Missed you so much,” Steve rumbled as Chrissy broke away from Eddie with a soft moan. From that point on Eddie refused to give his doubts any more room. Even if this was the one and only chance he got, he’d take it now and leave the consequences for later, no matter how risky. Without hesitation, he turned and met Steve’s waiting lips and revelled in the hum he pulled from Steve’s chest. It wasn’t long at all before Eddie felt Steve’s tongue against the seam of his lips, and hungrily he parted them, letting their tongues slide together in a way that turned filthy so quickly.

Eddie wanted to float away on cloud nine and drag them both into his bed immediately. Given that only one of these things was even possible, the decision was easily made. Groaning, Eddie pulled back and said, “If I don’t get you both in bed right the fuck now, I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Then move, you goof,” Chrissy said, shoving him, and Eddie grinned wolfishly as he guided them both further into the mess that was his bedroom.

Stepping right on his clothes without a care, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy all pushed and pulled each other to Eddie’s bed. Laughter and kisses followed as they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. Chrissy tripped on a hidden shoe and ended up against Steve’s chest, and he swooped in to pepper messy kisses to her cheeks before licking into her mouth. And fuck, wasn’t that a sight.

Eddie needed them all to get naked, and he needed it now. He started tugging at their shirts to distract them, or grab their attention, anything to get this started. When they looked up, he wiggled his eyebrows like Steve had all those weeks ago and whipped off his shirt. “C’mon, let’s go!” he said at the sight of their slightly dazed expressions.

From there it was a whirlwind of clothes flying. Belts flopped to the floor, zippers unzipped, and underwear was lost amongst the mess as it was flung away in their enthusiasm. Eddie flopped across his bed, panting after having Steve’s greedy hands all over him as soon as Eddie had shed his jeans. To either side, Chrissy and Steve descended, hands pawing and limbs tangling. Eddie was overwhelmed in the best, most exquisite way. Steve had a possessive arm around his waist while Chrissy’s thighs wrapped around one of Eddie’s. Steve delved down to Eddie’s mouth, devouring the whine that escaped his lips as Chrissy’s teeth grazed one of his nipples.

He tried to keep up, he really did. Eddie wedged his free thigh between Steve’s and ground it upwards, smirking when he heard Steve’s breath hitch and felt how wet and hot his cunt was against his leg.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eddie groaned. “How the hell are you both here?”

“Someday we’re going to make you see yourself how we do,” Chrissy threatened.

Honestly, Eddie believed in this moment that they could convince him that the sky was purple. Having them in his arms, naked, kissing him, kissing each other, felt like a fucking miracle. He’d believe anything they told him right then.

After some moments of slowly, deliciously rocking together, starting to learn each other’s tells and buttons, biting gently at newly discovered freckles and supple swells of skin, Steve guided them to lie on the bed properly.

“What do you need tonight?” he asked them both.

“I, um,” Chrissy looked down at one of Eddie’s tattoos. She’d been tracing it with the tip of her finger and making Eddie shiver under her touch. “I’ve always fantasised about riding one of you.”

Both men’s breath hitched as the words registered.

“Do you want me to grab my strap?” Steve offered.

“Do you want to get up?” she asked, and he shook his head ruefully.

“Don’t wanna miss anything, honestly. But I’ve got an idea.”

Following Steve’s direction, Chrissy stood up while Eddie stretched out along the messed up sheets, taking a few deep breaths in the hopes of controlling himself. If he came before Chrissy and Steve did he’d never let himself live it down. But, fuck, it was hard when they were so fucking hot, climbing into position over him.

Steve let Chrissy go first with a gentlemanly hand gesture. Giggling, she swung up onto Eddie’s hips and hovered over his leaking cock. The mischievous grin that graced her lips was all the warning he got before she took him in hand and slid his head between her folds. Eddie whined at her teasing.

“Chris, please, wanna be inside you, please,” he babbled, his hips jolting when he felt his dick nearly slip into her alluring heat. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“He’s so pretty when he begs,” Steve mused. He tilted his head as he looked down at them, reaching out to trail his fingers down Eddie’s tense, twitching stomach.

“He is,” she agreed. “Maybe next time we could explore it more.”

Eddie inhaled sharply, his eyes flying open. “Next time?”

“Yeah, of course.” Chrissy stopped her teasing and sat down on Eddie’s thighs. “You–did you think this was a one-time thing?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I kinda did. I thought this was just, like, getting it out of our systems. Clearing the air.”

Steve tucked a strand of curls back behind Eddie’s ear, his expression closed off despite the tender touch. “Is that what you want?”

Anxiety made his heart clench, but he figured this was as good a time as any to admit to the bullshit that had been driving him insane, and not just in the weeks leading up to this.

“Fuck no. I want more. If, if you want that, too. I think it’d kill me if this was it for us. A-and not just sex.” Eddie propped himself up on his elbows, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “I wanna go on dates. I want picnics in the park where people wonder what we’ve got, and fancy dinner dates, all that romantic shit because I’ve turned into a sap in my old age.”

Twin gleaming, relieved smiles shone down at him. Chrissy squeezed his hip, and Steve pulled Eddie in for the softest kiss any of them had shared that night. When he pulled away, Steve said, “You know I’m the king of romantic shit. I can’t wait to wine and dine you.” He took Chrissy’s hand in his. “Both of you. I’m gonna show you off, make people so jealous.”

Steve leaned over and kissed Chrissy softly too, and Eddie’s heart swelled at the sight. How he’d gotten so fucking lucky he’d never know. He already loved them both as friends, and the shift into something else was as earth-shattering as it was perfectly natural. Judging by the heartbreakingly tender expressions Chrissy and Steve wore when they parted and faced him, they seemed to feel the same way. Desire surged and burned like a bonfire in Eddie, for both of them. He needed them both. Now.

“Chrissy. Please,” he begged breathlessly. With a frantic nod, she sat up again, lined up Eddie’s cock, and sank down slowly with a delicious gasp. Eddie hissed, eyes screwed shut, as each rock of her hips brought him deeper into her heat.

“Open your eyes, Eddie,” Steve said, but Eddie shook his head. He couldn’t, if he watched her he might blow his load too early. But then Steve wove his fingers into Eddie’s sweat-damp hair and tugged, making Eddie buck up into Chrissy and whine. “Watch her. Like you have been for weeks. See how beautiful she is sitting on your cock.”

Swallowing, Eddie opened his eyes, and god, she was fucking perfect. Chrissy’s hair was wild, swept away from her flushed face. Lips parted, she moaned as she finally sank all the way down onto Eddie, clenching around his length as she adjusted to the size of him. Her breasts heaved as she breathed deep and Eddie craved touching them again, wanting to know if she’d squeeze his cock if he pinched and caressed her dusky pink nipples.

“See?” Steve asked. He sounded winded. “Beautiful.”

“Amazing,” Eddie panted.

For a moment Chrissy ducked her head, shy, but took a steadying breath before saying to Steve, “Now you, baby.” Steve climbed up over Eddie’s face, bracing himself on the headboard, and the fucking glorious view that greeted him made his dick twitch. “Oh, he’s excited,” Chrissy giggled.

“He better be,” Steve responded with a smug look down at Eddie.

“Of fucking course I am, I’m about to get ridden within an inch of my life! This is the best goddamn present I could ever ask for.”

“Good answer.”

Eddie watched hungrily as Steve’s cunt came closer. As soon as Eddie could reach, he dove in, dragging his tongue over Steve’s dick and moaning at the taste of his slick. He could feel the groan vibrate through Steve’s body as he licked between his folds, dipping into his hole before going back to his cock, latching on, and sucking.

“Oh fuck.” Steve gripped Eddie’s hair again. “It’s like you’re starved for it. Already pussy drunk, huh, good boy?”

Whimpering, high and desperate, he nodded against Steve’s cunt. He was fucking ravenous. If he could, he’d have his face buried between Steve or Chrissy’s legs for hours, until his lips were raw and his jaw was sore.

Chrissy began to move too, slowly at first, circling her hips in a way that made Eddie’s stomach clench and tremble. When she finally rose up, then down, he met her with a thrust that punched out a high, lovely whimper.

Not wanting to shift Steve, Eddie wrapped his arms around his thighs and held tight as Chrissy picked up her pace. Sheer, hedonistic pleasure surged through Eddie’s body, setting his nerves alight. The tight, slick feeling of fucking into Chrissy, while Steve ground down on Eddie’s clever tongue, the wet sounds of sex filling the room; Eddie wanted to bottle it all up, live in the moment forever, record it on video and watch back the first time he got to feel and taste and savour these two perfectly imperfect people he loved.

Fuck, he loved them. Was in love with them. That, though, was something he’d face later. He was busy right now.

Steve’s hips sped up, moaning as Eddie simply opened his mouth and let Steve ride his tongue, his cock rubbing Eddie’s nose. The hand in his hair tightened, held Eddie in place, and he had never been happier being used for someone else’s pleasure. Chrissy fucked him faster too. It was maddening. He could die here, happily.

The angle of Steve’s hips changed and Eddie opened his eyes to see Chrissy wrapping her arms around Steve’s chest, her fingers skimming his top surgery scars reverently.

They both admired the sight between Steve’s legs. Eddie wondered if what they saw was as mind-blowingly hot as what he saw as he watched one of Chrissy’s hands trail through Steve’s chest hair and downward, until she could get her knuckles around Steve’s dick.

“Look at him watching us,” she said, her voice thin and unsteady.

“He’s so happy being used, isn’t he?” Steve replied. Being talked about like he wasn’t there made the coil of bliss in Eddie’s stomach tighten. Steve also sounded shaky, and Eddie, determined to make it good, memorable, pointed and curled his tongue inside Steve’s cunt while he renewed his thrusts. The desperate sounds he wrung from them both boosted Eddie’s ego, and his efforts. He’d be good for them, make them both crave this again, so next time he could see just how condescending they could be while they railed him until his brains melted.

Chrissy’s moans grew quieter, choked off, her pace starting to falter. Thank fuck, she must be close. And judging by the way Steve was getting louder and louder, his groans and gasps and the desperate way he was bucking down on Eddie's face with more and more slick and spit smeared on Eddie's mouth, he must be too. Their sounds were fucking divine, pushing Eddie to the edge. He dug his nails into Steve’s thighs, hoping they’d leave marks. The hand that had been in Eddie’s hair flew to where Eddie was holding onto Steve possessively. Eddie grasped it back in a bruising grip, his heart soaring when Chrissy’s free hand joined them.

“Chrissy, oh god, mnh, Eddie!” Steve’s thighs started to shake and clench around Eddie’s ears. Tilting his chin, Eddie let Steve take and take and take until he shouted and shook apart on Eddie’s tongue, slick gushing and dripping down Eddie’s chin. Like a good boy, Eddie stayed put, kept his sore and aching tongue in its proper place so Steve could ride out the rest of his orgasm until he was truly satisfied.

When Steve moved away, Eddie drew in desperate gulps of air, taking one more worshipping lick that made Steve gasp thickly before, wobbly, he flopped onto the narrow space between the edge of the bed and his lovers.

Free to move fully now, Eddie’s hands flew down to Chrissy’s hips to hold her in place. She keened when Eddie pistoned into her, her nails pinpoints of delicious pain in his arms.

“E-Eddie, Steve,” she moaned, over and over and slurring together. “Fuck, oh, please, please!”

Steve reached between them and got his fingers on her clit, rubbing expert circles in time with Eddie’s thrusts. “Come for us, Chrissy, c’mon sweetheart.”

With a surprisingly quiet cry, Chrissy clenched around Eddie’s cock, her whole body shuddering as she came, her face falling into bliss when Eddie followed her right over the edge.

His orgasm ripped through him like lightning, so intense he barely heard his own needy whimper. Fuck, fuck.

He slumped into the mattress with a hollow groan, finding his hands once again clasped by Steve and Chrissy. All he could hear was their ragged breathing, until Chrissy shifted and he slipped out of her with a hiss. She hummed, then, a curious sound, and Eddie opened his eyes to see her dip her fingers into her pussy, drawing them out to see them coated in his come.

Steve leaned forward. Taking her hand gently, he closed his lips around her fingers and sucked them clean, moaning quietly at the taste.

“Holy shit,” Eddie said with wonder. Giving Eddie a sly side-eye, Steve pulled Chrissy in for an open mouthed kiss they both groaned into, and if it were possible for Eddie to get hard again right there and then, he would’ve.

But, regrettably, he was only human. All he could do was watch in awe as his lovers made out before they joined him in lying on the bed. Like vines their limbs twisted together again, unable to resist the need for contact that drove them close. Their bodies were cooling with sweat, but they cared little when there was so much warmth between them.

After a few minutes where they simply enjoyed existing in the same space, letting their mutual, sated exhaustion wash over them, Eddie finally broke the silence.

“I’m so glad we got high.”

The resulting cackling made Eddie grin. He loved making them laugh.

“Me too,” Steve said, nuzzling into the crook of Chrissy’s neck while he reached across her to hold Eddie’s hip.

Chrissy hummed. “Mm. Me three.”

Eddie and Steve groaned despite their begrudging smiles.

“I am glad, though,” Eddie continued. “I don’t know if I would’ve ever thought I could have you both. Still feels like a fucking dream.”

Steve’s hand traced along Eddie’s slender waist. “It’s real.” He repeated the words with tired wonder. “It’s real.”

Curled up together in the same bed for the first time, Eddie smiled and wrapped his arms around Chrissy and Steve, his stars and sun, orbited by the moon.

dividers by @/saradika and @/cafekitsune

#steves-strapcollection #steddissy #eddie munson #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #transmasc steve #stranger things #fanfic #sav scrawls stuff

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queenofallimagines · 10 months

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Hi! This is literally my first time requesting anything ( I couldn’t see if your requests were closed or not but if they are please ignore this), but I would like to request daisuga x first year (black) reader please? :)

Also, I love your blog! It’s so hard to find people who make hcs for black people so when I found you I was sooo excited :) love you, and have a great day!

This has so much flavor anon ily🥹

Daisuga:

- this is the funniest relationship ever congratulations

- Bc not only are you dating two third years daichi is constantly tired of you and suga’s shenanigans

- Suga can run w the best of em I fear so daichi is left in the dark when y’all start acting goofy 😭

- “No bc I’m not about to let her shenan😒”

- “???? What?”

- “Daichi keep up🙄🙄Bc if you let ‘em shenan once best believe they gon shenanigan!”

- He’s stressed!!

- Suga is just as chaotic as noya and hinata so he can be the mom friend but in more of a wine aunt “get they ass!!” Type way

- And he’s very “if you do it imma do it too” so god help whoever starts shit w you be he’s got your follow up💀

- Daichi making sure you do your homework

- Constantly pestering you to sleep and heat healthy too

- Likes bringing you to vollyball practice buuuut highkey lowkey you a distraction

- Noya and Tanaka asking you how you managed to pull them both and also you’re just really chill to hang with

- Hinata and kageyama have huge little sibling energy even tho your in the same year

- Putting tsukishima in his place Lmaoo

- Y’all gossip buddies sorry don’t make the rules he’s the devil on your shoulder encouraging you to be meaner

- “Drag them👀”

- Plus you’re besties w asahi by proxy so you get along w the whole team

- Sticking up for asahi to stress out daichi more>>>

- “Leave that little guy alone!!”

- “LITTLE HES LIKE 6”2????”

- Sleeping over at sugas house and cuddling is like the best past time activity

- he has a bonnet you left there that he keeps when you come over

- we will NOT let you put in on yourself he will put in in you like a crown lmao

- daichi gets jealous bc he insists on doing it every time you guys sleep together

- will oil and braid your hair up for bed

- I feel like daichi is really good at helping with your hair

-if you get either of them a durag as a joke they will wear them seriously and not take them off

- Along with working out!

- Daichi will definitely not let you ogle him and suga as they workout so you’re gunna be sweating too

- Which suga will definitely pull a “let me help you get in the right position” to feel you up

- He’s definitely shameless about how attracted he is to you like he’s NOT ashamed to show that he’s with two hot people

- Daichi is more reserved to where PDA is just holding hands, head pats and cheek kisses

- Really makes it look like you guys are just really good friends but will say your his partner without hesitation

- Suga is going around parading how hot his two partners are and how he’s the luckiest guy in the world

- Planning your wedding as we speak tbh

- Daichi was trying to bite his tongue when two classmates were making jokes about how he’s a third wheel and suga and you will ditch him and start dating

- Like at first he was like lmao you have no idea

- But they’re were really trying to make him insecure

- To which he goes

- “ACTUALLY both of my partners make sure to spare equal amounts of their time with me”

- Like he will subtly flex his relationship if people want to act up

- Suga will show up to your classroom to collect you for lunch lmao

- Everyone is all shook bc this super pretty third year shows up and he’s the volleyball teams setter?

- And he’s like “I’m here to get you so we can eat lunch together💕”

- Lmao he will embarrass you by being so sweet

- Asahi praying for you tbh bc you have to put up w both of them at once

- Also hope you don’t have any classes w tsuki bc he will “go as your boyfriends” YOU TO DEATH!!

- “Hey kei can I borrow a pencil?”

- “You can’t go ask your boyfriends if they have one??”

#daisuga #haikyū!!#haikyuu sugawara #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x black reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader poly #poly #daichi sawamura x reader #sugawara kōshi #sugawara x reader #daichi x sugawara #daisuga x reader #x black reader #my writing #haikyuu scenarios

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breakfastteatime · 9 months

Text

Today's request is 'You've got one minute' for @ralndown ^_^

Every time Cal thinks he’s settling into a routine on Bracca, something awful happens. Maybe the Ibis Maw gets hungry for flesh and grabs a tentacleful of unsuspecting scrappers. Maybe a ship that’s been in the same place for two years suddenly decides to collapse under its own weight. Maybe someone breaks something aboard an old terraforming lab and suddenly there’s a bunch of people turned into trees.

Today, Cal’s crew makes it halfway through their shift before the worst, most terrifying siren goes off. Bracca doesn’t have a lot of warnings for incoming disaster, but this one? This is the one they’re all trained to react to in one way, and one way only.

Get out. Get out now or die.

Maybe that’s why the Force left Cal feeling nauseous all day. It’s so useful like that.

Dropping the wires he’d started stripping, Cal follows the others. Prauf’s leading them and he’s already on the comms, listening intently to whatever’s being said. When he stops still and holds up a hand to make everyone else do the same, Cal shivers under the weight of the collective fear around him.

It only gets worse when Prauf starts issuing orders in a sharp tone of voice Cal’s never heard before.

“It’s a chemical leak. A bad one. We’re too deep in the ship to get out in time. Get into your emergency teams, find a room, and seal yourselves in. If we’re lucky, we’ll see each other on the other side of this thing.”

People break off into their groups. There’s no time for goodbyes or good lucks. Cal sticks close to Prauf and Tabbers. He takes a breath and immediately coughs it out, a sharp bite scraping the back of his throat. Prauf grabs him, throws him into a room, and Tabbers seals the door.

It’s not enough. The room, a tiny refresher, has an air conditioning vent high on the ceiling. Even Prauf can’t reach it to close it off. Gas seeps in. Cal hears people coughing and choking from all around, senses their fear and pain.

“We gotta seal it, now!” Tabbers shouts. His eyes stream, coughing hard. “We’ve got one minute before we’re all spitting out chunks of our lungs.” He pulls a wall panel down. “Weld this over that vent!”

“Lift me up,” Cal says. He puts his filter mask on, hoping it will help. “I can do it.”

Putting his own mask on, Prauf grabs Cal, lifting him. Cal plants his feet on Prauf’s shoulders. His eyes burn, so full of tears he can hardly keep them open. Tabbers hands him a sheet of metal and Cal presses it to the vent, welding torch in hand as he covers it up. He can’t keep his eyes open, so he trusts Prauf to guide him, molten metal sealing the panel in place.

“Good job,” Prauf says, lowing Cal down. “Sit, both of you. That gas is light, so we should be safer down here.”

Cal’s feet touch the ground. He drops to the deck moments later, eyes squeezed shut, lungs still rebelling. His mask isn’t doing much to help, but it’s better than nothing.

“Is this shit what I think it is?” Tabbers’ voice is muffled by his mask.

“Yeah,” Prauf replies. Cal hears him sit beside him. “Someone messed up big time.”

“I’d threaten to beat the idiots myself, but I cannae imagine they’re alive now,” Tabbers says.

“What is it?” Cal asks when he can talk again.

“A chemical weapon designed to rot battle droids,” Prauf says.

“Aye, not that it worked,” Tabbers adds. “It’s far better at killing us organics.”

Cal never heard about anything like that. Not that he tells the others. The idea that the Republic would create something like that leaves him nauseous.

“Looks like no one thought to remove the canisters before we started pulling this thing apart,” Prauf says. “Foreman said someone cut off the wrong thing and boom – we’re all breathing in poison.”

Cal doesn’t join the conversation. He pulls his knees to his chest, keeps his eyes firmly closed, and tries not to suffocate in the feelings of so many people dying around him. He pushes the Force away, begs it to leave him alone like it usually does.

“Cal?”

Prauf’s big, warm hand lands on his back. Cal startles, eyes flying open. His vision is fractured by the tears still running, but the burn is easier to manage now.

“You okay?” Prauf asks.

“Yeah,” he says, knowing he doesn’t have to worry about how rough his voice sounds. And then, because he needs a distraction, he keeps talking. “Can’t believe we’re stuck in a ‘fresher.”

Tabbers chuckles. “Get comfy, brat. We might be here a while.”

It’s two days before the foreman gives them the all-clear. The survivors are given a half-shift break to clean up, get something to eat and drink, and then sent back to work to make up for the two days of sitting around doing nothing. Cal notes that their crew is down several people when they meet up to be assigned duties, but no one says anything.

Back to the Bracca routine.

#fic requests 2023 #star wars jedi: fallen order #jfo headcanon #jfo minific #back to bracca!!#cal kestis #prauf #tabbers

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sketchy-rosewitch · 1 year

Note

hi this is literally my first time sending a fic request but i'd like to ask if you could maybe write a bo x fem!reader fic where bo comes home covered in blood one day (it's implied that he's been out killing people) and basically the reader is kinda attracted to it so before he goes to shower, they stop him and suggest that maybe he shouldn't shower just yet. he then gets the hint and they have sex. i was trying to write it myself but i literally can't even produce a single sentence right now and i love your blog and your writing so i'd love it if you'd be open to turning my idea into an actual fic aha. it's okay if not but i just figured i'd ask. :)

I gotchu! Oh my gosh it means a lot that you decided to make a request to me! I loved writing it! Apologies that it’s so short.

Minors DNI 18+

Warnings: Blood, blood play, blood consumption(idk how else I’m supposed to put that but yeah)

Masterlist

Bloody Hands: Bo Sinclair x fem!Reader

The TV hums lowly in the background as you organize the living room a bit before bed. You swipe a cloth against the bookshelves, dust collecting on it.

The front door swings open, Bo comes in caked in blood.

Your breath hitches, you can’t help but stare at your husband. You walk up to him slowly.

“Honey, I’m gonna go shower real quick if that’s alright.”

You look up with pleading eyes. “No! No, uh, not yet.” You touch his blood soaked clothes, the blood stamps onto your hand when you press lightly on his shoulder.

“You’re disgusting…”

Your heart clenches and you look up shocked, but your expression changes when you see Bo smirking at you. You smile shyly and look down but Bo’s fingers grab your chin so you’re looking at him again.

“You like when I come home like this? When I just killed someone? Got their blood all over my hands. Messy job today baby.”

You nod at every word that comes from his mouth and he lets out an airy laugh, leaning in to kiss you. You kiss back deeply and lick his bottom lip. He opens and you moan lightly into him. Bo let’s go and kisses down your body, your clothes getting soaked too in victim blood. You look at your bloody hand and lick the blood off your fingers.

“Dirty.” Bo’s looking right at you and you nod frantically agreeing with him. He wipes his face with his sleeve and you lay on the floor, you kiss and lick his face tasting and smelling the iron, humming, absolutely satisfied. Your hips buck up and Bo pulls your shorts and underwear off. “You’re a crazy bitch. Holy fuck.” Bo says before shoving two fingers in your pussy. You arch your back and moan.

“You just look so good Bo! You do so good killin’ all those people and I can’t help myself!”

Bo pulls his fingers out and sticks them in your mouth. You suck and watch as he unbuckles his belt, sliding down his pants just to his knees out of impatience.

“You look good covered in blood too Hun.” Bo teases your hole and you grind against his tip. He slowly slides in. You wrap your arms around Bo’s back and kiss and bite him. He thrusts into you, both of you groaning. Your back arches.

You squeeze around Bo.

“God you’re a mess right now. Look at you, covered in about as much blood as I am.”

He pounds into you harder.

“Bo! Please! Bo!”

He takes his middle finger and circles your clit. Your eyes roll back, Bo leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“S’okay hun. You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Can I cum?”

“Yes baby, go ahead and cum around my cock.”

Your eyes roll back and legs tremble. You let out a squeal and try and grip his bloody shirt. It doesn’t take long for Bo to finish either, his hips stutter and he groans cunning inside of you.

He falls on top of you and looks up from your chest. You smile at him and turn your head away a little embarrassed.

“Guess we both need a shower now.”

“Guess so.” Bo laughs and you join in while playing with his hair on the living room floor.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair headcanons #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #house of wax

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wispstalk · 6 months

Text

devotion

a piece i intended for summerfest ft. martin and baurus. ~1200 words

---

Among all the charcoal hatches and smudges there is a void. Blank white parchment, the color of death, roughly in the shape of an open book. Baurus could suggest the Xarxes’ contents with scribbles, but the blankness is intentional: a reflection of his own ignorance. What wondrous secret revelations are contained in this tome, the viewer might ask— then look to the troubled face above it.

The sketch just looks unfinished. A little too high-concept, perhaps, for his technical skill. Still, he’s happy with how he rendered the play of candlelight.

Working with light and shadow is new to him, a practice borne of the luxury of time. Baurus’s strength is faces. He can capture defining features in a few quick sweeps. He can work off the sparest description. It was how he led the Hero of Kvatch to Mankar Camoran— for all the good it did them.

He does not think himself an artist. It was only ever a casual hobby, a childhood fascination with what makes a face unique and what makes them all the same. Only when the spymaster caught him sketching his fellow trainees in the barracks did this habit take on value. Swordsmanship and tireless strength, the spymaster explained, are the least of a Blade’s talents. One must also cultivate the craft of observation.

After the Simulacrum, the Emperor saw schemes taking shape in every shadowy recess. Uriel wanted no more mysteries in his court. Every secret meeting, every tryst, every whispered conversation in the back of the council chambers: caught by a dissecting eye. Every visitor whose interest in the galleries or gardens was a little too keen. The idea was that if a plot arose, there might be a face to put to it, a moment captured, something to trace and therefore some way to get down to the why beneath the how.

(For all the good it did them.)

Now his duties are simple: he stands there, and he keeps watch. Or he did. Martin asked him (politely, stammering a little) if he would please stop looming. The Emperor’s trueborn sons were loomed over from cradle to grave; to them, the Blades were backdrop. This bastard heir, this farmer’s foundling, is not used to it.

So Baurus took the offered bench. Through this little crack in his discipline, the urge to fidget crept in.

(It took the heir some time to notice, but once he looked up while Baurus was doodling on a discarded scrap of paper. Martin made no comment, but extra rolls of parchment and proper charcoal sticks somehow made their way up the mountain in the Hero of Kvatch’s pack.)

So, as if it is his duty, Baurus keeps a record of the still mountain fastness where all fate hinges. Caroline’s hair ruffling in the wind as she takes off her helmet during a patrol. The complex gnarls of the Grandmaster’s fingers as he reaches to place a pin in his map. The Hero of Kvatch whipping in or out of the temple like a storm, all motion blur and restless shadow. Fortis and Pelagius out training in the sparring yard, the arc of an arm, the glint of pale Bruma sunlight on blunted steel.

But there is one conspicuous absence from his growing collection of faces. Their whole reason for being here. The very center of everything, and Baurus just can’t get it right.

He looks again at the sketch, and its subject. Furrowed brows pressed in thick dark hashes, smudges of shadow beneath the eyes, the stippling of three days’ stubble, a lock of hair twisted around a finger. A beleaguered patch above his right ear is beginning to thin from constant tugging. The gentle candle-glow does nothing to soften the jaw’s taut lines.

It’s a good sketch, from a technical standpoint. It’s true to life. Baurus crumples it and tosses it in the hearth.

“Your Grace?” he says softly. A little louder now: “Your Grace.” Nothing. So then, “…Martin?”

The heir to the throne jolts as if he stepped on a lightning rune. He drags the heels of his palms across bleary eyes and makes a noise like Buh?

“I wondered…” Baurus clears his throat to stifle the flush creeping up his neck. “I wondered if you wouldn’t mind sitting for a sketch.”

Martin blinks around the room, then points to himself. Baurus nods.

A shaft of sunlight splits the great hall, pouring in from those insecure high windows that Jena is always complaining about. Baurus frames up his hands and squints through them, and places a stool just so. After Martin eases himself down on stiff knees, his grimace remains.

“Your, er, you might not want to hold that expression for so long,” Baurus suggests.

“Ah.” Martin prods at his face as if the whole arrangement is new to him. “The first imperial portrait, isn't it? You'll have to take some liberties, I imagine. It falls to you to make me look wise and distinguished and pious and, ah— lordly, and all those things I ought to be.” He throws a sly grin over his shoulder. “And handsome. That’s an order, Bladesman. At least pretend I’ve combed my hair.”

As Baurus marks out loose shapes in negative space, he recalls the last portrait of Uriel ever commissioned. The painter had taken great care to hide the emperor’s age but gave him a certain jowly dignity. All the gravity of his years. Baurus, who was bodyguard to a very old man, saw what the painter had captured only once: when Uriel passed through the Hero of Kvatch’s cell and looked, unflinching, into the face of his own death.

The ghost of Uriel’s youth takes shape on the page. The curve of the nose in profile, the set of the jaw. But Baurus is careful not to diminish that which is all Martin’s own. The darker hue to his skin. His terrible posture, from all those hours bent to his translation. The fall of his hair, uncombed.

Baurus saves the eyes for last, scratching out faint suggestions first and coming back to tinker. His challenge, his crowning victory, will be to capture the eyes, the way Martin Septim now seems to see through the temple walls and track down the jagged mountain slopes, as if he slices open the thin skin of the world with his gaze.

Baurus works quickly, out of habit. He holds up his board to show the finished product. “It’s nothing worthy of the Ring Gallery,” he says, by way of apology.

Martin flicks his eyes up from the sketch. “The Ring Gallery?”

“The corridor outside the council chambers. It holds portraits of all the Emperors past. The most famous works, at least.”

“Oh. In the White-Gold Tower.” Martin gestures for a closer examination of the sketch. “I think it would suit me well. Picture it: all these grand frescoes, my vaunted ancestors writ larger than life, and then..." He lifts the drawing high in the air and flicks his wrist as if to slap it against a wall, this tiny piece of parchment with its dashed-off sketch. Baurus can't suppress a laugh, and the heir gives him one of those vague distant smiles. Never does he show his teeth. Always he looks as if he is keeping something back. "I'd rather have it for myself, though. Is that vain?”

“Of course not,” Baurus says reflexively, though something small crumples within him— he had hoped to add this to his collection.

The heir studies him. Picks him apart, translates whatever he finds beneath the mask of duty. “Terribly vain,” he decides, and hands it back.

#tes oblivion #martin septim #baurus #ray writes

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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 4 months

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“What hair product I think each svt member is”

Summery: a holiday fic that has absolutely nothing to do with the holidays! Wanted to try my hand at writing something a bit different and thought this was a good idea to start. Not really comedy but amusing none the less! (idk if what I wrote makes sense hopefully yall are picking up what I’m putting down) approximately: ten minute read

A/n: THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL IDEA! (In a way it is buuuutttt still) I can’t find the author who wrote the “what piece of furniture svt are” or something to that effect so they’re the ones who gave me the idea so if yall find them please tag them unless I do first!

warningz/info: mentions of pain, mentions of chocolate, I think what, three curse words? y'all let me know if I should start keeping them to a minimum or remove them entirely because I know some people are uncomfortable with them! I feel like the spacing between paragraphs is weird in this fic but oh well. no idea how this is gonna go over and im scared that I tagged it with "x reader". plus I dont know if anyone would read/enjoy it but I had loads of fun writing it! as always, if you did like it, please leave some love like comments and or reblogs!

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper. This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

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>Seungcheol<

gel. Sticks to you like glue once you find each other (romantic music starts playing in the hair care isle when you pick up your favorite gel) everyone has their preferred brand/ look they worship. Thicc. Either smells putrid and chemical like or good enough to transport you to a magical land of chocolate, pink grass and purple clouds

>Jeonghan<

he is a Bobby pin. And I will provide no further explanation on this except that he holds you together but will stab you lmao

>Shua<

an Afro pick/ hair pick. Its what everyone’s looking for: that little somen’ somen’. That little poof we all desire. Also scalp massages :)

>Jun<

wide tooth comb. My fellow thick haired/ curly haired people will know about this one 😭 this shit can be mean to your scalp tugging on your hair and UGH helps you greatly and is a necessity but damn… that’s all I gotta say

>Hoshi<

Refresher product/ moisture product. wakes you up in the morning. Gives you a reason to NOT look like you just rolled outta bed even though you did. For most this is one ofthe holy grails in life. What would I do without it? Makes us all smile even at 4:00 am because oh my god I look better after I slapped this in. Just all around a day-brightener

>Wonwoo<

curl cream. Grounding. Has many different looks n stuff

>Woozi<

a rat tail comb. Everyone should have one. Versatile, used for many different things. Good for every sort of job and is a natural to be honest and is small but mighty lol

>DK<

a satin/ silk bonnet. And no, not one of those that most moms wear with the lace trim. Those end up at the foot of your bed by the morning. The ones with the thick elastic. I choose this cause it goes by many different names, just like him lol just has that comfy homey feel to it

>Mingyu<

hair mask. Made at home with some questionable ingredients. Seriously sometimes I don’t think he’s real lol

>Hao<

a denman brush. It sounds to helpful and great. And it is great!…. When you figure out how to use it. Hard to figure out but once you get the hang of it you’ll never go back (another thing my fellow curly haired babes will understand)

>Seungkwan<

co wash. A little something extra, a boost of energy, if you will. a well kept secret but also a well known fact

>Vernon<

hair tie. Easy to loose but also easy to find. especially in places where youd think: “why the fuck would it end up here?” Like idk man, but you should definitely check the dark corner collecting lint— that’s where they always are

>Dino<

leave in conditioner because with use over time it makes your hair (you) healthier

~End~

a/n: annnnnnnnddddd thats it! hope y'all enjoyed this disaster of a fic lmao if you liked it, please leave some love like comments or reblogging!

stay safe, y'all!

2023 ©️copyright for shutupheathersorryheatherr do NOT repost, steal, or translate my work even if you give me credit

taglist: @itz-yerin

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gloamvonhrym · 6 months

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oh I never posted all my silly phoenicis worldbuilding (birdbuilding) that I did while in fanfic writing hell

here’s a huge mostly-boring set of notes expanding and/or playing havoc with canon. I’m putting it here for future reference. maybe to link to it for funsies if I ever post this hell fic

phoenicis is a small insular nation with little social hierarchy, living on inhospitable mountains inaccessible to anyone except other birds. phoenicis has therefore evolved on a somewhat separate cultural track from everybody else in tellius. in this essay I will

economy/practical shit

implicitly in canon hawks are intensely community-oriented. again, they’re a small nation without much hierarchy, and with some preference for chaos. they all “just do what needs to be done”, paraphrasing ulki. they’re not the Strong Guys for the heck of it: they work together to protect & care for their own, and harbor a strong sense of collective duty and trust.

so they’re commies

with serenes out of the picture they’re the biggest commies in tellius

they don’t have currency, that’s some human shit. to each according to their need etc

(exactly how small and close-knit is. phoenicis? small enough that kilvas, a similarly small nation with even fewer resources, could kill everyone on the home front in basically a day when it was left undefended. so. take that for what it is)

infrastructure

minor architecture tangent: we don’t see much of phoenicis & kilvas except for the exteriors of their respective castles, which is kinda boring. obviously not everyone lives in the castles. but phoenicis DOES have some other visible infrastructure, namely the funky detail of these open doorways built into both the castle itself and the surrounding cliffs:

(I don’t know if there’s any kind of proper name for these, because obviously irl we don’t need them and they’re not a thing. I’ve been calling them sky doors, and I might have nabbed that from rebecca roanhorse’s “between earth and sky”, although idk if she in turn nabbed it from anyone else)

anyway there appears to be no actual barrier on these, at least not externally. what did I say. commies. who’s gonna rob and kill you in your own home, in your little nation-commune, where nobody except other birds can get to you, and everyone trusts everyone else to do their duty and provide for each other. (the answer is that other birds will betray you, eventually. sad!)

anyway it’s boring to stick around the castle 100% of the time. I imagine that this architectural idea continues down into the valleys, where maybe artisans can make stuff and services can be provided and bargain economy shit can happen

hawks have seemingly only been pirates for the last 20 years or so, and they do piracy for the sake of vengeance rather than need, and they can’t do that much of it because there aren’t a ton of them; and unlike kilvas, they abstain from trade with the whole rest of the continent, and are isolationist by choice. so they must be self-sufficient in basically every way. someone’s got to be making fabric, making clothes, making shoes, forging metals, creating pottery, creating music and art, administering medicine, providing education, etc, somewhere.

healthcare

tangent about medicine: phoenicis is probably the only nation in the continent that has historically had no contact with healing magic at all. the herons had innate healing magic, and everyone else either has human mages or contact with human mages. but phoenicis is on its own. their medical science is therefore more advanced by irl standards, because it has to be. they know more shit about practical mundane antitoxins, antibiotics, wound dressing, surgeries, anesthetics, and complications. it’s less pleasant than magical means, but it works.

(canonically, healing magic works on wounds and not so much things like regular illnesses, so everyone’s still got some mundane medical care; but when that’s ALL you’ve got, I think it follows that you necessarily come to understand the pure mundane science better than most other people. I bet phoenicis has bred its share of real scientists. if anyone in tellius is going to invent electricity,) (also: they might value physical strength very much, but because they’re commies, I figure they take care of their sick/disabled/injured pretty well, and most of them are at terms with the fact that not everyone can be the Strongest Guys. reyson’s complex about being too weak to live is likely more due to survivor’s guilt, helplessness to protect others/wreak revenge personally, and a post-traumatic focus on violence as a primary determinant of outcomes, rather than any actual pervasive cultural messaging that he’s useless.)

age

hawks live to some, what, 300+ years? janaff says a 24 year old should barely be speaking, but I feel like his ass was just being dramatic, similar to the way we needle real-life 18 year old adult humans about being tiny babies. there’s no reason why any creature should take 20+ years to be at least functional, that would be a huge evolutionary disadvantage. I posit that hawk adolescence is considered to last roughly age 20 to 70 (with heron adolescence lasting somewhat longer, given their longer lifespan; maybe to 80-85, such that reyson has somewhat recently hit true adulthood by the time PoR rolls around).

teenagers are stupid. hawk teenagers are REALLY stupid. chaos predilection + hormones. many of them will gleefully pick a fight over any dumb thing and be horny about it. strong with the vigor of youth, but exceptionally poor sense of their own limitations

by age 100+, their temperament evens out; but any contender for the king’s power is probably going to come from the young crowd at any given time. speaking of which,

government

there isn’t much of one. phoenicis is not big. everyone knows everyone and they’re very efficient commies so everything gets done that needs to get done. tibarn has 2 dumbass advisors. who needs a secretary of state.

the title of king goes to “the strongest” (I assume the intent is that this is determined by combat, against self-selected challengers who get to take over if they win, wakanda style). although canonically, his power is that he gets to call some shots but doesn’t really get any special privileges or reverence beyond that, which is nice because it means that if the king became super unpopular, the rest of phoenicis could probably depose him without much trouble if they wanted to. no divine rights here.

(worth noting: I think tibarn’s characterization is super different between fe9 and fe10, with RD tibarn being a lot sassier and more informal. FEH skewed towards the RD vibe, and I think they were right for that. given the hawks’ uniquely relaxed philosophy towards royalty, their insular culture, and the likelihood that they all knew tibarn by name before he ever had a title, it wouldn’t make sense for them to do a lot of formalized bowing and scraping. RD tibarn would never have unironically addressed caineghis as “o majestic king of lions” or whatever he said)

(by contrast, apparently, in japanese, reyson consistently addresses tibarn formally (and also naesala, up until naesala betrays him). I don’t speak japanese and can’t really count this as an aspect of my experience of these characters, but I wonder if the other birds also address each other in this way, or if it’s a trait peculiar to reyson.)

family

families are not nuclear. hawks raise their kids pretty communally, foremost in unstructured “flocks” (households or clusters of households). actual bio parents may or may not be closely involved

parenting is kind of hands-off overall. the concept of adult supervision falls away pretty fast. “let your kid do the stupid dangerous thing so that he learns what’s stupid and dangerous” ass culture; learning by experience is optimal, and if you’re not adequately responsible then others are less likely to be sympathetic and/or have your back in turn. hawk kids tend to gain squads quickly, and they often hang together for life ride or die

if a young hawk is neglected or entirely rejected by their home flocks - rare, but not impossible - likely someone else will pick up the slack, if not adults then some loyal friends

relevant headcanons: tibarn, ulki, and janaff have been sticking together since an early age. ulki in particular had some problems - his original family did not appreciate that he kept overhearing things he shouldn’t, and he was way too autistic to know what was meant to not be repeated, so after not too long he became a bit of a lone wolf. tibarn and janaff already knew each other - janaff’s exceptional sight didn’t cause him any similar problems; and were initially concerned with ulki’s misfit status, but his ability was a valuable bonus. they all adopted each other.

food

the main thing hawks don’t do is cook. because they mostly eat raw meat, fish, and bugs, which is very sexy of them. I imagine every household has certain members designated to hunt regularly on its behalf. add that one to the chore chart

(maybe someone starts experimenting more with cooking when herons are there, and further when phoenicis is open to international relations. for fun and community!)

gender

ok the shit I made up, let’s go off the rails

hawks are queer-normative. in that they don’t give a shit about the anatomy or superficial presentation of who sleeps with whom. most of them are equal-opportunity in that regard

they are, however, by human standards, masc-centric to a sort of absurd degree. they’re not dumb senseless brutes (see again, commies, intense intra-community trust); they’re also probably not the most emotionally available fellas

(“but wouldn’t this level of intra-community trust result in greater emotional availability, not less?” look I’m not saying they’re scared of it. but why would you cry out your feelings with some other guy when you could be killing animals or committing piracy about it.)

gender presentation: I said equal-opportunity in terms of sexuality. might be because it’s a little difficult to tell. the games appear to have no female hawk characters but in MY headcanons their presentation is just masc-centric across the board, and maybe they skew a little less sexually dimorphic in general, so you wouldn’t know anyway

most hawks are he/hims. that’s just a quirk. like discworld dwarves but with less to say about it. just a nation of butches, for fun

bad gender parity in the tellius games? how do you know janaff isn’t a he/him lesbian

hawk dress is largely unisex, earth-toned, and utilitarian. not necessarily fully unadorned - tibarn has an earring & a few other things, including a necklace (feathers; battle trophies?) - but he’s still pretty rugged. nobody is flashy.

nothing AGAINST conventionally feminine presentation per se. hawks would chafe against overly rigid norms. but the way medieval-fantasy femininity looks, they’d probably think it’s a little odd in a practical sense. but who knows. maybe leanne starts something with those she/her pronouns and flowy dresses yk.

(tangent on clothing: phoenicis isn’t really friendly for something like cotton crops, but they can have wool, because goats & sheep can live on mountains. I’m also happy to make up that there’s some kind of hardy tellius breed of mulberry-adjacent tree, which can grow at least somewhere in phoenicis, resulting in the availability of silk and maybe barkcloth. or something. idk I’m not that kind of historian.)

sexuality

hawks primarily value strength, physical + emotional. we knew this. again, doesn’t make for the greatest emotional intelligence. overt softness is not the thing. tibarn kind of sucks at the direct empathy that reyson claims all living beings share, for instance. 2 hawks in a fight would rather tussle it out than waste time talking.

this carries over. in a partner, again, attraction tends to disregard sexed anatomy, but the most valuable thing is being well-matched physically. being creatures of chaos, they trust their impulses, they like a challenge, they don’t mind a fight, and they probably don’t super want to be with someone they have to worry about hurting

(hence that kind of hot chemistry between tibarn & nailah. also janaff hits on lucia at first glance bc she’s a knight obviously she’s got some beef babeyy)

pursuant: by and large, hawks really don’t find herons very attractive. that delicate graceful peaceful affect is kind of a mystifying ideal to them. it’s like art - nice to look at, ig, but what would you actually do with it. people significantly weaker than you are for you to protect, not sleep with. tibarn is a notable exception because he is down bad for reyson

and reyson is like an alien, and tibarn is maybe a bit of a freak for being into someone so fragile. you are the very strongest guy, tf you want with a boy who breaks if you look at him wrong. what do you get out of that sir. he has complexes about this :) but I’m not going to elaborate on that because that’s what hell fic is for

“herons in phoenicis: conceptualizing the vulnerable body in hawk-normative society”, the title of my tellius gender studies thesis at the university of crimea or whatever

speaking of reyson. what does this mean for him. I need to talk about it because I’m obsessed with him. the commie stuff isn’t that much of a culture shock at least

but have some added fuckery: sole survivor, adapting to another culture, learning another language; lone chaos-sensitive empath in a sea of macho chaos-oriented dudes who aren’t very attuned to that kind of thing; also extremely physically distinctive in a way that is kind of weird at best

how do you even maintain a sense of personal identity when the baseline relevant factor is “you’re incomprehensibly different from everyone around you in every way possible”? I think reyson experiences some Gender about this. the most masculine heron is still a lily reed compared to even a fairly femme hawk

reyson’s gender, per the rest of the continent: male. reyson’s gender among hawks: heron

I imagine leanne is somewhat shielded from this once she comes round - she’s able to lean on reyson and naesala, and I figure she does, pretty heavily, considering she picks up maybe a few words of the modern tongue over the course of 3 years. she’s deliberately feminine, and also has already chosen her own terrible boyfriend [affectionate]. she’s not without her own traumas, but she’s more supported, and maybe is even in a place to kind of enjoy the confusion & attention she garners from being the sole girly-girl. I feel like she would.

and her terrible boyfriend [affectionate] is a raven, not a hawk. and by contrast, ravens are VERY attracted to herons. because herons are pretty. and ravens like shiny pretty things.

misc

I’m not quite committed enough to make constructed-culture art, but in my mind hawk visual & aural culture resembles late antique/early modern celtic styles in a few ways. insular culture yk. some book of kells bullshit.

(kinda weird, upon reflection, that phoenicis isn’t full of ancient tongue speakers, considering serenes was allegedly one of the few nations they were ever friendly with. and yet even tibarn understands very little ancient. at the very least, being the most isolated nation, it would make sense for the hawks to have their own modern dialect. but they don’t, that would have been hard for an FE game to pull off, and I’m not enough of a linguist to try. so it is what it is! maybe, even though they don’t fraternize with other nations, they’ve always kept pretty close tabs on them just in case, the necessity of spying facilitated the shift to modern. whereas serenes never did that. anyway sometimes the hawks sound a little irish in my head.)

they are also superstitious. all those lonely windswept coastal peaks, there’s a lot of howling winds, spooky nooks, weird environmental physics interacting with weather phenomena. you end up with stories about folk monsters. hawks know shit about ghosts, fairies, sirens, and banshees, and how to placate them if you piss them off. also the herons sometimes scare people to death because they wear nothing but white and drift around like specters.

I also have a lot of headcanons about herons. but they’re more feelingsy. so I’ll leave that go. I might add to this as I remember more stuff

#long post #text #ref

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sxtvrns · 1 year

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duo of dreams

🎶 now playing: ordinary – nct dojaejung

P: Hueningkai x Fem!Idol!Reader

S: You were seductive. He was an angel. Two polar opposite concepts come together in ways no one would expect.

C: fluff, comfort, inaccuracy, self indulgence, girlboss reader, downbad hyuka, brainrot, drabbling, kinda long, not proofread

N: i am a baby moa so pls do not slander me if i dont get a millisecond of a certain stage performance correct. this is purely for self indulgence because i am so severely in love with kai and everything that he does. idek where this story went but im hoping it makes sense cuz i was so upset with the ending i changed it multiple times and this is the one i liked the most. this man is so fine and im glad im not the only one that thinks so

view the full perfume collection.

please interact if you enjoy!

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2021

The minute you turned 19, you knew what you wanted. Even before you turned 19, you knew what you were, and you knew what you wanted to make out of it. You were hot. Fierce, confident, and eye catching. Everyone knew it, too. You turned heads every time you went to the headquarters, seeing people stare at you out of the corner of your eye.

Before you were of age, though, you never openly exposed yourself in such a way. It was all a tough girl kind of concept. You tended to stay on the neutral, dark, concepts rather than cuter ones. If you were given an idea, you found a way to design it and stick it to your niche. You always preferred to do what you liked rather than being forced into a box with little room to do anything your way; it demotivated you.

As a solo artist, you had lots of creative freedom, being able to write your own songs and even nitpick at how you wanted them to sound. Sometimes you would just need a kickstart or a hint from another fellow producer to get the ideas flowing, and boy, did your mind flow with ideas.

Sometimes you were labeled as ‘provocative’ or ‘controversial’. Some even said you were acting too mature for your age. But it never hurts to get a head start.

When you weren’t music making, you often dabbled in modeling with your partnered companies or for magazines, really, any source of promotion. You felt even more confident while doing so as well, which further boosted your productivity in the studio. It all came full circle.

You tried to do what you like while also balancing music, and you managed to make it work. People looked up to you. Newer groups admired you, your stage presence, how you gave 100% in every single performance that you did, how you wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfect, how much effort you put into practicing.

You idolized your own fair share of groups as well. BTS, Blackpink, Twice; any group debuting for longer than you have, you admired. When you saw Suga crack a smile at your MAMA performance, you nearly broke character on stage, but held it in by letting your heart race and stopping your face from faltering. When Dahyun talked about you during one of her lives, saying you were cool and how she longed for confidence like yours, you nearly fainted on the spot.

You were still a growing girl with people you looked up to, inspired by everything that they do and how you could apply aspects from their performances to yours. You were truly committed to your craft.

You were invited onto a talk show, along with another group, whose name was not revealed to you. Off camera, you heard the footsteps of multiple people passing by, yet you didn’t know who since it was supposedly a surprise for both you and the other idols.

You adjust your mic, the cameras rolling and the MC and group introducing themselves. Though their voices together are loud, you can’t make out what they are saying, only adding more to the suspense. You’re suddenly given the cue by a staff member, walking out and seeing five men sitting together in their chairs with surprised expressions.

You’re equally as surprised, knowing you’ve seen their faces at previous award shows. “Tomorrow by Together?” You point at them, all of them jumping and freaking out at the fact you knew who they were. “Y/N, meet TXT!” The MC says, letting you sit in your chair as the boys calm down.

“Have you two met formally before?”

“I think once backstage, we were on Inkigayo together.” You answer, the event fully coming back to their memories as you mentioned it. “Do you remember our names?” Taehyun asks innocently, watching as your eyes scan over each of their faces before answering. You point at each respective member as you say their names. “Soobin. Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, Hueningkai.” They all cheer and applaud as you dramatically bow towards them and the camera.

“Is there something in particular you like about each other’s music?” The MC asks.

“TXT has a certain flow in their music that manages to get stuck in my head; No Rules and Frost have been playing on loop for the past few days since those are my favourites. And the rhythm and the way each song plays a role within a story is something I really like.”

They all nod, the MC turning their head towards the boy group. “Hueningkai should answer for us.” Yeonjun ushers, patting the maknae on the back. “Yeah, he has your music on 24/7. Nonstop.” Beomgyu adds, only making Kai even more shy.

“Well, Y/N has a really significant, gritty style to her music and a satisfying edge that balances out throughout her songs, so each song is different in its own way. She really pays attention to the role of each instrument in the background and how well they balance together, and her ballads are really well put together because of this. Of course, all of her songs are good, but her ballads stick out even more to me. They’re usually the ones I listen to the most.”

“He’s good.” You say, all of them laughing. “Frost is actually Hueningkai’s song.” Soobin adds. “Really?” The maknae nods, all redfaced and flustered. “That’s why it’s so good then. You did the laugh at the beginning?” He nods again. “I picked it up from you, a little bit.”

“That’s amazing. I loved it, it gave the song the whole like, badass vibe.” You say, immediately covering your mouth. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can say that.” They all laugh it off, going back to the topic at hand.

As the interview progresses, you slowly find yourself getting more comfortable with the boys in front of you, laughing and joking around as the questions go on and on. They treat you like a close friend though you’ve only known each other for an hour, and your heart is filled with a familiar warmth as you even fall out of your chair from laughing so hard.

You compose yourself before the interview ends, and when the cameras cut, it goes silent, all of TXT staring at you, and you staring back. Hueningkai is the first to break, everyone else following right after.

━━━━━

the way he looks at her

hyuka had hearts in his eyes the whole time i swear

Y/N ONE CHANCE PLEASE

she is literally slaying so hard and all she’s doing is sitting in her chair

id freak out too if i was in the presence of y/n

IDK IF I WANNA BE TXT OR Y/N

hueningkai finally formally meeting his celeb crush guys the character development is real

━━━━━

You lurked a lot on social media, having your own personal accounts and such. This also meant you saw all those comments about the tension between you and Hueningkai specifically. They weren’t wrong about it; in fact, there was something there between you two that you couldn’t determine.

It was like a chain operated by a crank that wanted to pull you two closer together. You felt yourself drawn to him, and he felt drawn to you, yet you didn’t know why.

“Hueningkai has the biggest crush on you. He has some of your posters hung up in our room and always stays quiet if your performance is on. He never stays quiet for anything.” Taehyun said, which stuck with you the rest of the interview.

During the recording, you couldn’t help but feel your eyes drawn to him specifically, and how he’d already be staring at you when you looked at him. He could feel it too, the crank wanting to turn. You both were resisting against it, not letting the chain pull you two any closer.

He was cute, for sure. His innocence seemed to radiate off of him, and the way it contrasted with your maturity made you wonder why there was such a significant tension between you two.

So while you sat in HYBE’s cafe on the 19th floor, sipping on an iced chocolate while staring down at the streets below, you tried to take your mind off of him. But it was the most fun you’ve had with another group, and you wanted to relive the laughter in your head over and over again for as long as you could remember it, but Hueningkai was always the first person that came back to your mind when you tried to reminisce. As much as you liked it, it also felt like torture.

The doors of the elevator open with a ding, Hueningkai ordering a lime bachaas at the counter, noticing a familiar figure at one of the window seats. He gets his drink, taking a sip before guessing. “Y/N?” You turn around at the mention of your name, noticing Hueningkai who’s waving at you. You wave back, wondering what to do. It’d be awkward to leave it at this.

You nudge the chair out, letting him sit down next to you. “Are you busy?” You ask, knowing it’s late at night but not late enough until practices usually end. “Just finished. Had some dinner.” He’s usually rambling when he’s asked questions, but maybe today tired him out. You can’t blame him, you were equally as drained. “You watched our episode?”

He huffs with a laugh. “Yeah. I saw the comments too. We’re everywhere.”

“Hope you don’t mind. The internet is crazy.”

“I’m aware of that. I don’t mind at all. Do you?”

You shake your head. “I don’t really care.”

A comfortable silence lingers over the two of you. It isn’t awkward in any way, merely the sounds of the machines behind the counter serving as background noise. “You really picked it up from me?”

“Huh?”

“That laugh. In Frost.”

He awkwardly chuckles. “Ah, well, it’s a bit strange to say it out loud but, when I was recording that part, I tried to envision what it was like in your shoes. All… cool and villain like.”

“You think I’m a villain?”

“Wrong word… more like dominant. When we were sent the sample recording, I could immediately see you doing the song as your own, like I could hear you doing the intro itself. When I imagined your vibe, that’s how it came out. Is that weird?”

“No, I love it. I can understand why you think that way. You did a great job, by the way. Really sweet of you to think of me like that. Your performance for that song too, fuckin’ sexy.” You cover your mouth, looking around and seeing no one else around. “Can I swear?”

He nods with a small laugh. “Sexy?” He asks. “If I’m being honest, you looked really fucking hot up there. Just saying.” His face goes warm, partly at the fact you called their performance ‘sexy’, but mostly at the fact you called him hot right to his face with no shame at all. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Take it how you will, I’m just telling the truth.” Your eyes meet his for the first time during the whole conversation. You break first and finish off your drink, his gaze enough to intimidate yet fluster you at the same time. “I’m gonna go now. Hopefully I run into you again.” You get up, about to leave when you feel a hand tugging on your sleeve, stopping you.

“Um, do you want me to walk you back? We live in the same building and all, I just– it’s dark out.” He rambles, a smile creeping up on your lips. “So you’re cute and you’re a gentleman? I really found the one.” It doesn’t directly answer his question, but the compliment has his heart racing faster than before. “Sure. Let’s go.”

As you walk back to the dorms, you manage to make small talk with Kai, filling in the silent gaps when needed. “I do appreciate your attention to detail.”

“For what?”

“When you were talking about my music. I really like hearing other people’s interpretations on them and what sticks out and such. I’ll be sure to write more ballads for you.” You start off, joking around. “I think it’s a bit funny you view me as someone higher and you’re casually hanging out with them right now. The only difference is that I debuted after you did.”

“You flattered me too much already tonight, Y/N. One more thing and I might just faint from your words alone.”

“Pleased to know I make such an impact on you.”

“You’ve made quite an impact on me for a while now.”

Unlocking your door, you tell Kai to wait outside for a moment, handing him a folded slip of paper. “Thank you for the peace, Kai. Goodnight.” You go to shut the door, opening it slightly again. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You add, Kai walking back to the elevator after you shut the door. He doesn’t unfold the slip until he reaches his own dorm, numbers written down.

It was your phone number, words written right below it.

I enjoyed talking to you tonight. Text me whenever, and hopefully we can talk like this again.

His mind goes back to your words from earlier. ‘Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’

Was it because you called him hot and that he was more secluded on the way back? It was only because he didn’t know what to say after. What was he even supposed to say to that? Thank you? You too?

Before he went to bed, he added your number to his contacts, and hid the note in one of his drawers. He realized one thing, though.

You were definitely flirting with him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator door opens, Hueningkai alerted by the ding and turning around to see who it was. Your hood was on, yet he still recognized you, messing around and simply staring at you the whole time to see how long it would take for you to notice.

You see him out of the corner of your eye as you put your phone away, sheepishly waving at him as he proudly waves back, gesturing for you to sit with him.

“Do you wanna see something?” He asks, which grabs your attention. You nod, Hueningkai taking out his phone and opening his emails, tapping on something else. He fully reveals the screen to you, showing photos of him modelling for a campaign. He scrolls through them, and you simply sit there, admiring how he glows in every single one.

“God, you look so good in all of them.” You mutter, hearing him giggle as he shuts his phone off. “You’re the first person to see them.”

“Really?” He nods, running his hand through his hair. “I feel so special.” You smile, wondering how his silly demeanour could turn into that in front of a camera. “Do you want me to send them to you?”

“Can you really do that? It already feels a bit illegal just looking at them.”

“No one needs to know.”

You huff, accepting his offer. “If you’re encouraging it.” He turns on his phone again, sending the photos to you with a ding. “Have you been busy today?” He asks, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Writing. Dancing. I’m performing for KBS, so I’ve been rehearsing. Speaking of which, I just had an idea.” He leans in closer, intrigued.

“Could you… record a few lines for me? It’s for my festival performance; it isn’t a lot, I swear. Just some dialogue. Whenever you aren’t busy, of course.”

“I’m available tomorrow.”

“Great! Cool, I’ll text you more about it. You’re on the setlist too, right?”

“Yeah. Just our title track.”

“Looking forward to it already.”

“What song are you covering, anyways?”

“U-Go-Girl, then transitioning to my title.” His eyes widen, remembering the dialogue that would have to be voiced over by him. “Oh.” Thinking about it alone is almost embarrassing, but he takes pride in the fact that he’s the first person you thought of to record such… important lines. “If you don’t want to, I can find someone else–“

“No, no! I can do it, yeah, I can. I want to. Sounds fun.” He cuts you off, sounding almost too excited. “You know what you’re getting yourself into and not just doing it because I asked.”

“Really, I’d be honoured. Playing a part in your performance.”

“Good. I’d have a hard time finding someone else then, anyways. Wasn’t planning on asking anybody else.”

“So I was first pick?”

You pause, looking for an answer. “You’d add your own little Hueningkai flair to it. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but you’re gonna help me make it stand out from the rest. And that’s exactly what I want.” You always had a thing for being different. Different in a good and influential way, in a way where you wouldn’t be compared to others, rather others were compared to you.

You yawn, covering your mouth and letting your head hang to the side. “Today must’ve taken a toll on you, huh?” You feel his sleeve briefly brush against your hood. “Dance was… hard today. I couldn’t get the moves right even though it’s the easiest dance to ever exist, my brain was mush, I was failing to comprehend anything– I did great in everything else but the performing, stage presence part of it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. We all have bad days, and it’s okay to feel horrible about it, but you learn to move on and improve. Trust me, I should know.” Kai advises reassuringly, his hand having a gentle grip on your shoulder. “Thanks, Kai. I just feel like a bit of a lazy ass not being able to do things at the pace I usually do.”

“You haven’t been overworking yourself, have you?”

“Not necessarily.”

“If you need to take a little break, take one. Better to be conscious to perform than not perform at all.” He jokes it off, even making you giggle a little as well. “I’ll take your advice to heart, Kai. Means a lot that you care.”

“You aren’t lazy, by the way. I’ve seen your performances and judging from how you exceed everyone’s expectations, you are far from that. You’re a hard worker, Y/N.”

“You really know how to flatter a woman, do you?” His face flushes on the spot, instantly a flustered mess. “Like you said, I’m just telling the truth.” He says, mostly spitting out words that he isn’t entirely sure of. “And you pay attention! My goodness, I’ll never find another guy like you. I’ll treasure you forever, Hueningkai.”

“Stop that…” He murmurs, still flustered and warm faced.

“Don’t be embarrassed! I mean it. I’ll never regret ever knowing you and being a friend of yours.” He only hides his face deeper into his hoodie, giggling as you take a sip of your drink. “Don’t fall in love yet, Huening, you should take me out on a date first.” You tease, finishing off your drink and tapping on his shoulder as you get up to leave “Don’t make false accusations, you’ll get in trouble for that.” He follows behind you, throwing away his own cup.

“I really did appreciate the advice, though. Maybe I was a bit too harsh on myself. I promise I’ll try to be more self aware.” You look up at him with a nod as the elevator doors close with a ding, and he nods back, giving you a thumbs up.

When you arrive at your dorm, you finally figure out a time. “Are you free at 3 tomorrow?” You ask. “For what?”

“For recording, duh. Was this not the first thing we talked about?”

“It was actually the second thing.”

“Okay, smartass, that was rhetorical.” You laugh it off, waiting for his confirmation. “Yeah, I am. I’ll take some time out of my practice for it.”

“I can do it sometime else if you’re busy, then–“

“Y/N, I’m practicing all week, it’s fine. You won’t get my recording in time if you were to do it when my schedule isn’t actually packed. I’ll let them know, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

“Fine, but if I get a complaint that pulling you out of practice was unprofessional I’m blaming you.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“See you tomorrow, then?” You peek your head out the door at him, tiredly staring at him. “See you. Get some rest, Y/N.”

“You too, Kai.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hueningkai steps out of his practice, following the directions you gave him through text, seeing a few staff members outside the recording booth. They let him in, shutting the door and putting on the given headphones. “Hi Kai. You ready? Need water or anything?” You’re sitting in the producer’s booth at the computer with another staff member.

“I’m good.”

“I’ll play the sample recording for you. Unless you want to go straight into it?”

“Sample.”

Kai had a way of mimicry that you admired. It stayed true to the original, but his voice made it stand out the exactly how you wanted it to, that he got it only after the second recording. You play it back to him, this time layered on top of your main vocals, the part transitioning to your song being the most prominent section where his voice really stands out. “Do you wanna rerecord anything? Personally I think this is the take.”

“Then I’m good.”

You frown at the way he describes himself, even though he isn’t entirely wrong. “Alright, then that’s it. Thanks for coming in.”

“Should I see you later today?” He asks, the other staff member looking at you. “Yeah, sure. Just get back, I feel I’ve taken you for too long already.” Hueningkai begins to tear bits off the lyric sheet, the sound of it reverberating in the room you’re in. You simply watch as he rolls the bits into tiny crumpled balls, leaving them on the stand.

“At least clean up after yourself. You can walk a girl home but can’t pick up your own trash?” You joke, Kai’s ears going red as he takes the bits with him, muttering a goodbye before leaving the room. “You’re close with him?” The staff asks, finicking with the audio.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing. You two seemed to just click instantly. Do you wanna hear how it sounds now?”

As the sky darkens, you wait for a response from Hueningkai almost too eagerly, checking your phone every time it buzzed in your pocket, hoping it was him. You stopped by your rendezvous, just to take a seat and listen to the recording over and over again; it was that good that you wanted to put it on loop and just admire it as many times as you could.

“Boo!”

Hueningkai pounces on you, his hands grasping your shoulders to make you jump. “Kai– do not do that! If I had a drink in my hand right now, I would’ve thrown it at your face.”

“So mean!”

“Reflexes.”

He sits down next to you, leaning in to see what took up all your attention that you didn’t notice him lurking behind you. “Wanna listen? It’s the backup vocals for my performance.” You offer him an earbud as he accepts, playing up until the transition. “And that’s most of it. For now.”

“Feels a little bit wrong to get early access to this.”

“It was only part of it. And now you know how I felt when I saw those photos of you.”

“They’re up now, so nothing to worry about. I saw your messages but that was during water break, so I didn’t get to respond. Figured I’d find you here.”

“I felt like giving up and going back to the dorms. This was a last resort.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to even text you afterwards. Slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine. This is all I wanted to show you anyways.”

He pauses for a moment, staring at the ground trying to remember what it was about the KBS festival he was going to say. “Oh! Right, I just remembered I was gonna tell you something.”

“What is it?”

He leans in closer and whispers something.

“I’m dying my hair.”

“Really? What colour?”

“Brown. Then after the festival, black.”

“Are you getting a new concept?” He nods excitedly, his grin unable to be contained. “I will keep my mouth shut. But I’m excited to see what’s to come!”

“I think you’ll like it. We’ll be working on recordings after the festival.”

“Oh?” You were intrigued. “I’ll like it?”

“It seems like something you’d enjoy, at least. I’m hoping you will.”

“Now you have me wanting to know more. You know this is very unprofessional of you, speaking about your group’s plans with another colleague.” You poke fun at him, leaning in. “I’m speaking to you as a friend, not a business partner. And with how much unreleased information we’ve been sharing with each other, it’s safe to say that we are more than just business partners.”

“I feel like a schoolgirl sharing secrets with someone.” You giggle, Kai’s smile growing. “I heard somewhere they call you Hyuka, can I call you that?” Why did the name sound so perfect when it rolled off your tongue? He did his best to stop his face from heating up and replied. “Yeah. You can.”

“It’s cute. I like it.”

He doesn’t reply, avoiding eye contact with you and simply replying with a nod. “You really get flustered over the smallest things, don’t you? Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Maybe it’s because I can’t believe the Y/N keeps flirting with me. Not very professional of you.”

“Oh, the irony! It’s corroding my heart…” You overdramatize, earning a snicker from the boy seated beside you. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop. I hope you know that wasn’t my intention.”

“I know. And it doesn’t. If anything, my heart beats so fast that I just can’t think of anything to say to you because I’m so focused on the fact my heart is racing in my ears.”

“So you like it?”

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be called cute by the L/N Y/N? If anything, I’m lucky enough to be talking with you like this.”

“Now you’re the one flirting with me?” You laugh, checking your phone. “I have an interview tomorrow. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Why? You’re always great in interviews. You’re comedic, you’re stylish–“

“It’s one where the MC asks questions to get under your skin. Like a hot seat.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not… I’m not very open with my personal life. I don’t usually talk about it. He might go that far.”

“Can you not cancel?”

“Too late now. I was booked for it but didn’t care to ask what it was about since I was too busy with other things.” You feel his hand rub your shoulder reassuringly, giving you a look that said ‘it’s gonna be okay’. You sheepishly smile, his hand not leaving you for as long as you stay with him. “I just don’t want to get into controversy right before that big performance. It’s gonna ruin my confidence and my performance is gonna be shit and when I look back on it I’m gonna hate myself–“

“Y/N, you’re gonna be okay. Your fanbase would understand wholeheartedly if they are really fans of yours. They would defend you until the end of the line. Have you seen what they can do? It’s a bit terrifying.” He says, making you chuckle. “I get why you’re so nervous, but if the episode is that bad, they’d have a reason to not stream it.”

Hueningkai’s words stay with you the entire night leading up to the interview, where you’re seated in the chair and the cameras are rolling. The questions start off innocent at first, typical questions you’d get on any other interview.

“What is it like being a role model for newer idols?”

“What is your favourite performance outfit so far?”

“Is there a specific place you’d like to go to for a world tour or concert?”

Then it slowly started getting more… iffy.

“Do you have a ghost writer?”

“Did Bighit force you into the ‘sexy’ concept when you turned 19?”

“How many times have you cried over your duties as an idol?”

When it got into relationships with others, however, that’s where you drew the line.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend before?” The MC asks with a shameless smile on his face. “No.”

“Is there anyone you have your eyes on right now? A celebrity crush?”

Your face begins to burn red, your heart pounding so loud and fast you can hear it in your ears, and you’re struggling to spit out logical answers.

“Not in particular.”

“Sunghoon from Enhypen? You two are known to be close friends. Is he your type?”

“Please don’t bring my friends into this.”

“P1Harmony, what was his name… Jiung!“

“I don’t–“

“What about Hueningkai, the boy from TXT? Ever since that interview, people have been endorsing you two as a pair.”

“I don’t think you should be dictating someone to fulfill my relationship status. You have absolutely no power over me and my relationships with others, and God knows everything about me and my friends while you don’t, so keep your mouth shut.”

The whole room goes silent. You’re holding back tears and you want to swear at him so bad, but this seemed to be impactful enough already, so your eyes stare daggers into his soul, as if they pierced through his heart to make it stop beating. “Well, you certainly live up to your fiesty trait.” He laughs off, switching to the final cue card.

At the end, in your dressing room, you’re so overwhelmed with humiliation and embarrassment, the tears that couldn’t escape your eyes begin to flood again as you pull out your phone, the first person to come to mind being Hueningkai.

hyuka

are you there?

hiii!!!

how did it go?

horrible

it all went to shit

oh… are you okay?

can i see you later? same place?

sure, ill be there by 9

Your hood is on for the rest of the day, pace relentlessly fast as you walk into the headquarters. The face ID for the elevator can barely recognize you with how much you’re trying to hold back from crying, and you avoid any eye contact with the staff that join you in the small space. You finally look up when you reach the 19th floor, seeing Hueningkai turned around and looking at you, and you begin to break down then and there.

“Woah, Y/N…” He runs over, catching you before you can fall on your knees. “What happened? What did he ask?” You feel like shit knowing Kai is trying to help you, but you aren’t able to say anything because you’re so overwhelmed with tears and how embarrassing you look crying in front of him.

“Do you want to come to my place and we can talk about it? Or do you want to go to yours? The boys are just practicing vocals so it’ll be just us, no need to worry about someone overhearing.” He’s so extremely patient with you, making you cry even more. You point at him, meaning you want to go to his place, because it was the first thing that came to mind. “But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m only worried about you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

who does he think he is???

i cannot believe the staff did not notice how uncomfy y/n was even after she yelled at them

the fact he just laughed it off like what?

this was so incredibly disrespectful, i dont even know how this show is still up

who is allowing this to be aired theres clearly something wrong with this

he knew he crossed a line and did not care how stupid can you be

i knew there was something off about this

imagine being scolded by y/n id disappear off the face of the planet forever

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat quiet in your waiting room, scrolling through the posts on social media all written about you and that damn interview. You knew you were in the right, and you hoped everyone else knew that too. Luckily, they did. They didn’t bash you for anything, their dissatisfaction going towards the MC and the show.

You received endless support and praise for standing up for yourself and putting the host in his place, and you were so incredibly relieved for that. You watched the show broadcasting patiently on the TV in your room, TXT’s title track beginning to play. You were so fixated on it that you almost forgot you were going on next, the staff calling you backstage.

When their performance ends and they come offstage, you clap and cheer for all of them as they pass by, waving at Hueningkai enthusiastically when you see him. “Hyuka!” Even under the dim light, you see him with a tired smile as he runs over to you. “Wow…” He looks at you, eyes trailing over your outfit. “You look good.”

“I could say the same for you.” Maybe it was the lighting, or how nervous you were, but seeing your friend post-performance trying to catch his breath, sweat dripping down his face, his cheeky smile as his gaze with those tired eyes doesn’t waver from yours, you knew it was wrong to be thinking such things. But he looked hot. Really hot.

“I’ll see you in your room?” You ask, and he nods, head turning away first and eyes last. God, he had a gaze that could kill you.

The metronome begins playing in your earpiece once you’re on stage, and you let your confidence take control. Hyuka’s voice plays in your ear, and if you’re being honest, the one thing that usually runs through your mind is thinking about how cool you are to be on stage and performing for such a large audience. Did it make you seem like you were full of yourself? A little bit. Did you care? No.

When the song changes, so does the mood. The lights change colour and are different brightnesses, and so does your outfit. You discard your jacket and the skirt you’re wearing, adorning a matching pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt, and a fishnet longsleeve underneath. Your title track begins, and the crowd screams so loud you can hear them over your instrumental.

After the rush of adrenaline from being able to make the crowd scream louder than ever, you walk offstage, saying thank you to all the staff as you pass by. You make a quick pitstop to your room, grabbing a few things before trying to find TXT’s. The next performers pass by and give you cheer silently, and you can’t help but smile back despite your exhaustion. You knock on their door, a staff member opening it. “Hi Y/N. How come you aren’t in your room right now?”

“Is it okay if I come in?”

“Is that Y/N?” Someone asks.

“Y/N!?” Another voice asks, who you can recognize as Hueningkai. The staff member moves aside, and there’s Hyuka, standing behind him with that goofy smile on his face. He pulls you in for an unexpected, brief hug, looking at you all thrilled. “Your performance was amazing! You looked so good up there, and the transition and your execution–“ He’s so excited that he just jumps around with glee, and you manage to laugh at his enthusiasm.

You take a seat on the empty couch with a content sigh, Hyuka then sitting next to you. “I loved your performance too. The brown hair suits you.” The colour made him look younger as if he wasn’t already, innocence along with it. “I like it. I wish you’d keep it.”

“You should’ve seen my in my group’s Magic era.”

“Do you have photos? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.” He pulls out his phone, photos of him from that time showing up after mere seconds of him typing it in. “You looked so cute! And so much younger…”

“We were both 17 that time, so obviously. I saw your concept during this time too. You looked cute too.”

A part of you wants to believe that he means it. Another part of you is making you think that he’s just saying it to be nice since you do that to him all the time. “So you’re saying that I’m not cute now?” You ask rhetorically, letting him search for his answer. “I’m saying that you’ve always been cute. How’s that?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He’s looking at you so sternly that you want to believe him, and the fact he hasn’t broken out into laughter probably means that you should. “Soobin, Hueningkai is flirting with Y/N.” Beomgyu says, making you the first to break eye contact with him. “Don’t make her uncomfortable, Hueningkai.” His leader says, lounging in his chair.

“I think she likes it.”

“I do not.”

“Then why is your face so red? You don’t see me all flustered when you call me cute.”

“Actually, I do. We’re even.”

You both sit there in silence, Hueningkai scrolling on his phone mindlessly, lurking on his social media. He opens his camera to check and fix his hair, but notices you in frame, your eyes shut and head on his shoulder. You fell asleep on him.

He’s frozen in place, unsure what to do. He doesn’t move for as long as your rest on him, merely going back on his phone with a quiet chuckle. He snuck a few photos with you, and looking at them he realized that you were still as cute as he called you, even while you were asleep. When he looked up from his phone, he saw Yeonjun with his camera facing the two of you, fingers tapping on the screen.

“What are you doing?” Hyuka asks, Yeonjun immediately putting his phone away. “Nothing.” He lies, going back to using it as normal. You don’t stay asleep for long, being called back to your room by one of the other staff members. When you leave the room, Kai gets a text from Yeonjun, odd being that they were merely across the room from each other. He opens it to reveal a few images and even a video of the two of you together.

“Look at Hueningkai… Y/N is sleeping on his shoulder. Our maknae has really grown up and his crush is resting with him, they’re so cute. Saving this for when they date in the future.”

You nearly doze off in your own waiting room until your phone buzzes in your hand, a text from Hyuka appearing. It’s photos of the two of you, mostly of you sleeping on his shoulder while Hyuka is on his phone or taking selfies with you.

you looked so peaceful i felt bad when i had to wake you up

were you about to sleep in your room? im sorry if i woke you up again :(

ah its okay

who took the other photos?

yeonjun

were you just on your phone the entire time

i didn’t wanna wake you up!

can i come back

im not sure let me ask

👍

no u cant cuz the show is almost over

aw man

we’ll talk tomorrow! its my off day so we have all the time in the world

you’re over exaggerating a little bit

only a little bit

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Y/NS PERFORMANCE MY LORD

SHE LITERALLY ATE THAT UP

she proved that flop of an mc wrong

is that hueningkai’s voice in the background??

GUYS AM I TRIPPING OR IS THAT HYUKA

hueningkai doing the dialogue for y/n’s cover is something i didnt know i needed

r they like best friends off screen because that’d literally be so cute like y/n asking hyuka to do the vocals for her

they sound so good together omg

collab when?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2022

You were close with Hueningkai. You talked a lot, you hung out a lot, you even did media promotions with him, and you had little inside jokes that no one seemed to get, which made them funnier.

You two also had a tendency to… flirt with each other.

You could never see if he was being serious or not, and he’d never tell you afterwards and just move on. You’d do the same, which was only fair, but you really wanted to know if he meant it. Sometimes you wished he did. Other times you didn’t care.

You did lives together, mostly consisting of gossip and eating snacks, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You even walked in on him once in the middle of one, and was unofficially invited as a guest.

You did promotional content with each other, and had a lot of pictures together in your camera roll. You almost lost important screenshots and info because of it. But every time you opened your gallery, you smiled, seeing pictures of him and the two of you messing around together reminding that there was more to life than just work.

It’s officially known by everyone, you and Hueningkai were best friends. Two peas in a pod, doing a lot of things together when you both were free. You were being shipped together, and while you were worried it made him uncomfortable, you also kind of liked it. Which begun the spiral of thoughts: did you have a crush on him?

You felt even more like a schoolgirl talking about it with your friends, except you were left alone with your own thoughts. You only flirted with each other about what, hundreds of times? He’d pat your back to calm you down, hold your hand if he noticed you shaking, run his fingers through your hair when you’d ramble, hug you when you need it, wipe off any crumbs that were left at the corner of your mouth…

He had comebacks that made your face go red, snarky replies and comments that made your heart race more than anything else, he looked hot when he was performing, like, really hot, he made sure you were the first person to see his unpublished modeling photos (all of them drove you crazy), he looked really pretty with contact lenses, he was the only person that could leave you stuttering and scrambling for words…

The list went on and on. And the more things you found out you liked about him, the more the answer became clear. You liked him. You liked your best friend.

Sure, he’s told you before that you were his celebrity crush, but that’s different. You liked him on a personal level, a level that could make or break your relationship with each other, and that was what scared you the most. You really liked him, to the point where if he rejected you, you’d go dark for a few days trying to recover.

You wanted to tell him so bad. Every time you tried, your heart would race uncontrollably and you couldn’t choke out a single word. It was almost embarrassing how flustered his simple actions made you, let alone on a livestream.

“I told my sisters about you.” He says, staring up at the clear, starlit sky. “Really?”

“My younger sister is a big fan of you, actually. She debuted this year. Older has plans to, and she says you’re really cool.”

“Tell them I say thank you. What group is your younger sister a part of?”

“Kep1er. Bahiyyih?”

“You did that Tiktok with her, I remember. You guys look scarily alike.”

“We really don’t.” You glare at him, straight faced. Hueningkai looks at you, face illuminated by the lights hidden underneath the plant fixtures. “You look pretty.” He thinks aloud, knowing you heard judging from the expression on your face.

You laugh. “I know.” You expect him to laugh the same, but his face doesn’t seem to change in any way. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I always have been. You just never see it that way.”

“Oh.” You’re struck with a pang of guilt, cursing yourself internally. “You weren’t just being nice?”

“I meant every word I said. I hope you’re taking me seriously right now.”

It seems like I’m not, but I am. I really am.

“This is awfully bold of you, Hyuka.”

“I really like you, Y/N. How’s that for bold?”

He was being serious, unphased with genuine, meaningful eyes. “You always stayed by my side, even when I was feeling down. You remember the little things about me; my drink orders, the snacks I get, my habits, and merely being able to see you makes my day a whole lot better.”

You’re standing there, mouth slightly hanging, unable to say anything. The words are stuck in your throat, and you want to say something, but you feel like you’re gonna faint if you speak a single word.

“I… I can’t…” You’re too embarrassed to face him, knowing his eyes are on you. “I need to go…” You mutter, hand brushing over his for a second before leaving him unanswered on the silent, dimly lit rooftop.

You’re running down the stairs, mashing the buttons on the elevators, messily typing in your key code, falling to your knees once you step foot in your dorm. You’re coughing so much from your horribly paced breathing, and the pain adds to your tears, slowly trailing down your face.

Why were you crying? You didn’t deserve to cry. You were the one that hurt him, leaving him there because you were a coward. It hurt like hell. You barely managed to clean yourself up, falling asleep the second your head hits your pillow.

Practice the following day was straightforward, but you still felt empty. You would’ve gotten a text from Hyuka already, but the only messages there are the ones from yesterday. It hurts to see it so empty, and you want to talk to him, but what if he already hated you?

Entering the elevator, you run into Taehyun and his hooded mop of black hair. “Hi Y/N.” He greets. You tip your head to greet him, guilty for being able to talk to one of Hyuka’s friends and not him himself. “You should go talk to him. He skipped out on practice today.”

“Does he hate me?”

He scoffs. “Hueningkai could never hate you. You made his life 100 times better, according to him.” He pauses and sighs as the elevator nears the floor to the cafeteria. “Even for a few hours, he really didn’t seem like himself. If anything, he’s wondering if you hate him.”

As the door opens and Taehyun steps off, you get a text from Hueningkai.

im sorry.

forget i said anything.

“Shit.” You mutter, Taehyun eyeing you the entire time until the doors close. It’s one swift ride down to the bottom floor, and again, you run, but this time faster than you did the day before, spamming the buttons on the elevator and going to his floor. You stop in front of his door, knocking on it and ringing the doorbell. “Hueningkai? It’s me.” You say. No answer.

“Hyuka? Please, can we talk?” You plead, not hearing anything from the inside. You spam his messages instead, calling him 10 times before giving up. You then remembered accidentally peeking at him entering his dorm code, but you forced yourself to forget it for the sake of his privacy. Given he wasn’t answering, you forced yourself to remember.

He jokingly scolded you that day before shutting the door, but what did he type before that?

Your faded memory punches in the series of numbers you picked out, the door suddenly unlocking. You look around, seeing an empty hallway before shutting the door and locking it, taking your shoes off and running to his room. “Hyuka?” You call, hearing muffled sniffles from a distance. That had to be him.

You didn’t bother knocking. You opened to door, seeing Hueningkai’s face all messed with tears, puffy red eyes, and his arms clinging tightly to one of his stuffed animals. His eyes widened before he hid his face with a tissue. You walk over to him, helping him wipe his face with the tissues. You quickly get up and rush to his kitchen, refilling the glass of water on the floor beside his bed.

He’s calmed down by the time you get back, accepting the glass and drinking half of it. “How did you get in?” He asks, voice hoarse. “You typed in the code once and I accidentally saw. I took a shot in the dark.” You hold his face in your hands, warming them, wiping away a fallen tear with a stroke of your thumb. He clearly didn’t remember. “I’m sorry–“

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You sigh, heart pounding in your ears. “I was a coward for running away. It was stupid.” He chuckles. “I don’t even know why I’m crying, I just started thinking of you, and everything I’ve lost, and…” He cuts himself off, knowing he’d start crying again if he said anything else. “I’m right here. You haven’t lost anything.”

You move his hair out of his face, and all you can do is look at him. His post crying face, rosy and glistening, a content smile on his face. “I like you too, Hyuka. Your duality, your laugh, your carefulness, your personality…” You begin to look at the smaller details on his face. “Your eyes, your lashes, your jawline…”

“Your lips.”

The crank holding the two of you finally snaps, and you’re fully drawn to him.

You kiss him, and everything feels just right, sensing his surprise through the noise he made at the sudden action. It’s a first for both of you, so you could be as awkward as you needed to while learning how to kiss each other. But you were fast learners, and you got the hang of it quickly.

He pulls you closer by the waist, holding you close to him as you straddle his hips, kissing you fervently. So fervently that you swear you hear him moan in between a few kisses, and you try not to enjoy it as much as you do. Pulling away for a second to admire him, the way his chest heaves as he’s out of breath, his eyes doing the pleading for him.

You lean in closer. “Do you like being like this?” You ask, forehead against his, lips grazing over his own. “Mhm.” Your hand holds his face again, warm and tempting. “Is this what you’ve wanted?” He nods again. “For how long?”

“Too long.”

His lips are back on yours, dominant and hungry. He was the only one that could restrain you like this, and for once, you didn’t mind not being in control. His kisses move down to your neck, feeling him smirk after eliciting a groan from you.

“You can’t…” You start, feeling him stop and pull away. “People will see. We can’t risk it.”

Being in the industry meant that lying out of hickeys was nonexistent. Dating scandals would come abuzz and the only thing people would ask you for the next few weeks was who gave you that purple mark on your neck.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The door suddenly opens, and you’re met with a shaken Beomgyu, eyes wide and jaw dropped. You immediately get off of Hueningkai, putting your hood back on and sitting on the side of the bed, gesturing zipped lips to the poor boy. “Soobin! They’re– they’re… Y/N’s here!” Beomgyu rephrases, a better choice of words than what you assumed he’d say.

“I’m sorry. That was a dick move of me.”

“It was. All I wanted was closure, and I got it, so it’s okay.”

His hand rests on top of yours. “Can I be your boyfriend, Y/N?” You blush, face hot as if you weren’t just making out with him a few minutes ago. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. But what about our label?”

“You’re closer with Bang than I am. Could you talk to him?” You nod, kissing him one last time before leaving, avoiding eye contact with Soobin and Beomgyu on the way out. You bump into Taehyun on the way to the door. He looks at you with a smile, following with an affirmative nod and letting you go.

Taehyun budges through the border of Soobin and Beomgyu at his own bedroom door, Yeonjun peeking over and seeing Hueningkai all red and smiley. “What happened?” The oldest asks, eyes still on the youngest.

“Y/N happened.” Soobin answers, Yeonjun’s gaze locked on the maknae. Maybe it was his older brother genes that he noticed something different than the Hueningkai he saw this morning, but judging from the fact you walked out with your hood on, Hyuka’s shirt being slightly crumpled, his blanket gathered at the footboard, some of his plushies fallen out of place, and slight tinges of pink on and surrounding his mouth, he deduced you two had a little bit of fun.

“Took him long enough.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2023

Your relationship was smooth sailing as it ever could be with your schedules. A member of your team had to arrange a meeting with Bang discussing the relationship between you and Hueningkai. Keeping it a secret would have been the better option, but knowing Hyuka, he’d still show you off to everyone even if being scolded to keep quiet about it for hours on end.

Bang said he ‘had a hunch’ from the first interview, not showing any objection, but naming the risks and controversies that would come with the publicity of your romance. You two were too lovestruck to care about public opinions, but you still were wary of your interactions with each other, Hueningkai especially, knowing that getting into a scandal only involving himself would bring the group down with him.

You two were content with the way things were, but Hyuka tended to have the mindset of, ‘if it happens, it happens’ despite being so cautious, and you’re sure the staff members at Music Bank saw the two of you being intimate in the halls because your boyfriend just had to kiss your forehead at that time, no sooner or later.

Rumors started to arise, given how close the two of you had become. You were always close, but this time you were much closer. There were a lot of behind the scenes cameras at music shows, sometimes catching the two of you in the background together. Once you were even caught with Hyuka taking a nap on your thighs, and that only further proved the existence of the two of you dating.

The one time you decide not to wear a mask and just your hat, paparazzi caught the two of you holding hands on the way back, those gossip articles really planting all previous evidence as if their life was on the line.

Both of you never confirmed anything to the public. You simply just moved on with your lives as if nothing ever happened. It was brought up in a few interviews, but you managed to avoid answering questions on terms of your relationship, using the excuse of privacy.

It was surprising to everyone when they saw a video uploaded on TXT’s channel titled something along the lines of: ‘Hueningkai’s first date’, you couldn’t remember it off the top of your head. But you did vividly remember officially stating that the two of you were going out, and have been going out for a while.

The feedback was, as far as you knew, positive. Being dubbed as ‘the duo we’ve been waiting for’ or ‘netizens’ favourite couple’, you mostly appreciated the fact that you didn’t receive any threats, and only a loss of some fans. Maybe people just couldn’t handle the fact that you two looked so damn good together.

“What are you watching?” Hueningkai asks from the kitchen, seeing you staring at your phone intensely. “Your interview. You’re throwing away your plushies? But I got you one.”

“I’m keeping yours, of course. I’m getting rid of my hoarding habits, so I don’t really want anymore as gifts. Yours will always have a special place in my heart, and I’m never gonna get rid of it.”

“Can I at least keep one?” He considers it for a moment, then nods. “Sure. Which?” You don’t even have to think about it. “Honey.”

“Really?”

“You let me hold him when you invited me here so I could cry and rant after that shitty interview. So that one will also have a special place in my heart. It was also the first one you offered to me. Maybe when I’m alone and I have it in my arms I’ll think of you.”

“You can have him, since he means that much to you.” The sink turns off, shaking the water off his hands and drying them, going to his room and retrieving his, well, now your stuffed animal. The moment you hold it, your thoughts are flooded with nothing but of Hueningkai, despite the fact he took a seat right next to you, placing an arm around your shoulders.

“Jesus, you look fuckin’ sexy in these photos.” You say, zooming in and saving them to your camera roll shamelessly. “Speak for yourself. Front cover on Vogue? You looked so beautiful in those photos. I’m so incredibly lucky.”

You put your phone down, turning to hear his answer. “How so?”

“That you’re my girlfriend. That I get to be your boyfriend. That I get to see your beautiful face every single day, and that I know little things about you that others don’t.”

You chuckle. “I want to kiss you so bad, but the others are gonna come back soon and God knows we won’t be able to stop.” His hand gracefully holds your jaw, his finger tracing along your jawline to let himself move his face closer to yours. He speaks in a whisper.

“Then don’t.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

if you’re really, really tired, i want to hug you and pat you to sleep. i just miss you, even right now. 🎧

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