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i-love-scarameowche · 8 months

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Caged bird.

Content Warning ⛈️: Yandere themes, breaking Readers legs, unconsensual nonsexual touching, kidnapping. Ft. Yandere Xiao, Scaramouche, Venti and Kazuha x reader!

Summary🔎: You thought you could trust them. You were so so wrong.

Part 2

Another Wattpad repost

You groaned as you opened your eyes, you just woke up. You heard giggling. Once you opened your eyes, but you still couldn't see, you felt fabric on your face so you assumed you were blindfolded. You tried to sit up but couldn't, you felt restraints on your wrists and ankles. You heard someone walking over to you and resumed trying to get up. "Y/n..~" You heard someone say and tut. You knew the voice was familiar, Venti! "Venti! Help me out please!" You say. "Aww Y/n, you are so adorable!" You heard him say, only this time much closer. You then felt hands squish your cheeks. "What? Venti help me!" You exclaim.

"Of course my dove!" You hear him say and giggle. You felt your held being lifted and someone taking off your blindfold. You can't see at first but then your eyes adjust to the light and you see Venti sitting next to you. (Youre on a bed) "Venti, where are we?" You ask and your lip starts to tremble. "Oh, we're in our house! In the basement!" He said and smiled at you. "Why?..." You ask. "Well, heh don't be mad but, we kindaa, kidnapped you.." Venti said chuckling. "W-what, why!?" You ask and as he's about to respond you realize. "We!??" "Yea, Xiao, Kazuha, Scaramouche and me!" He says with a smile. "Want me to go get them?" You shake your head but he gets up anyways and leaves.

Your lip started to tremble again, you can't cry, not now, not infront of them.. But a few tears still escaped from your eyes, right as they walked in. "Venti, what did you do!?" Scaramouche yelled. "Why are you blaming me I didn't do anything wrong!" Venti respond. They continued to argue as Kazuha walked over to you. He started to untie your ankles, and then he untied your wrists. He picked you up and you thrashed around. "Let go off me!" You screamed, but he just stood up and hugged you closer. You always loved his touch but now, it feels wrong...

After a while you stopped thrashing because you were tired and Kazuha sat on the bed with you in his arms. You heard a loud slap. And looked to the other men. Scaramouche had slapped Venti. "Stop, talking." Scaramouche said and Venti looked offended. You wanted to leave, you always hate when people argue. They then start to scream at eachother. You look up at Kazuha, he looks annoyed, you thought. You covered your ears and closed your eyes wishing everything would stop.

Kazuha noticed this, put you down on the bed, and got up. "Stop arguing." He said to them. "Why would I listen to you?" Scaramouche asked in a rude tone. "Because you're both making them scared." Kazuha said and they looked at you. "Fine." They both say.

Kazuha was wrong, they were all making you scared, you didn't wanna be here at all.

A week later

"Come on Y/nn have some!~" Venti said and offered you his bottle of dandelion wine. "No thank you.." You said quietly as he pulled you closer to him. "Leave her alone, Venti." Scaramouche said. "Noo, she wants some right?" He said and looked at you pleading for you to say yes. "Okay." You said, you worried what he would do if you said no.. Venti then gave you his bottle. "Have some!" He said and Scaramouche glared at him. You barely ever drank before.. You put the top of the bottle to your lips and slowly drank it. You cringed inwards, you didn't like it. You put the bottle back down.

"Sooo?" Venti said. "It was fine." You said. "Just, fine? Really?" He asked and looked at you. "She did what you asked, it's my turn with her now." Scaramouche said and picked you up, he threw you over his shoulder and walked into the bedroom.

"Heyy, give her back!~" You hear Venti say and then hear crashing. Scaramouche groaned and opened the bedroom door then closed it. He threw you on the bed and locked the door. He laid down next you and groaned. "You love me, right?" He asked and you nodded, you didn't think it was true but you didn't want him to be mad. "Good." He said and pulled you underneath him.

He put his face on your chest (btw it doesn't matter if you don't have boobs or are a guy) and hugged your waist.

Time skip cus 😚🫶

You woke up and groaned. Your eyes fluttered open and you tried to move but you felt someone on top of you. "Stop moving." You looked and saw Scaramouche hugging your waist tightly and pressing his face into your shoulder trying to go back to sleep. "Xiao and Kazuha are back!!" Venti yelled as he burst open the locked door, you flinched. "Shut up.." Scaramouche said in a raspy voice. "No, your hogging Y/n! I want my dove!" Venti says walking over to the bed and pulling your arm.

Scaramouche quickly realized this and got up and grabbed your other hand. "Let go!" Venti said. "No they're mine!" Scaramouche growled at him. "Ow..." You whispered as they pulled your arms but Venti heard it, and quickly stopped. Venti quickly jumped on the bed and hugged you. "Oh, dove I'm so sorry!" He said. "Hey, let go of them!" Scaramouche said still pulling your arm. "Can't you see its hurting them? Do you want them to leave you like every one else?" Venti said.

Scaramouche crossed his arms. "They can't even if they want to." He said. "Fine, but still!" Venti whined. Scaramouche growled and left the room. "He's gone now!" Venti said and smiled as he put his forehead to yours. "Y/n, can you come here?" Kazuha asked standing in the doorway. "But, but I just got them back, Scaramouche was hogging them.." Venti whined out. "That's not my problem, come on Y/n." Kazuha said and motioned for you to come to him. You slowly got up and walked to him and Venti whined.

"I knew you'd come to me." Kazuha said as he smiled. He grabbed your hand and walked to the kitchen. "Do you want some food?" He asked. You are hungry... You nodded and he smiled and let go of your hand. He walked further in the kitchen and told you to sit on the couch. As Kazuha was cooking you heard Xiao talking to Venti. You heard Venti squeal in joy and saw him walk out of the room you guys were in. Xiao followed him and they both sat next to you. Venti hugged you and made you sit in his lap and he put his head on your shoulder.

"I don't know why Xiao is so shy, he:s the one who kidnapped you!~" Venti giggled as he spoke. "Venti you little-" Xiao said but got cut off by Venti tutting. "Don't curse in front of our darling!"

5 months later

It's been so long since you last were outside.. You wanted to leave so badly, and now you had a chance! You've been behaving well so they would trust you, and finally they all are out of the house, while you aren't chained up! You walked to the door and unlocked it, then you opened it and walked outside. You closed the door and walked towards the gate. It would be hard to climb but you had to do it quickly you don't know when they'll be back..

Once you got on the other side you jumped off and sat on the ground for a moment. You then got up and looked around, the house was surrounded by a forest. You didn't know where to go so you just, started walking.

Time skip cus I'm lazy 🤗

You've been running for a while, everything looks so similar... You were so tired, so you sat down next to a tree to catch your breath. You panted you're probably far from the house by now. It started raining aswell.. They probably know you're gone by now, you need to keep going until you find people.. but youre so tired. You tiredly stood up and started walking, but you slipped on mud and fell on your face. "Oww.." You mumbled and sat up.

You heard rustling in a bush, it scared you, what if it was one of them? You quickly stood up and ran you looked behind you and saw a bunny pop up from the bush. You sighed and looked forward again, you tripped and stumbled on a rock you fell on your face again. You were pretty annoyed at that point but then you heard creaking. You were confused you looked up and saw a tree starting to fall. You tried to crawl away but it fell too soon and the tree falls on your foot. You scream in pain and tears start to form in your eyes. You were in so much pain and yet that wasn't even your biggest problem. You were stuck. Your foot is stuck underneath and you were tired. One little nap wouldn't hurt, right?

"Get up." You heard someone say. You groaned and shook your head. "I said get up." They said in a ruder way. You whined and looked up. You saw Scaramouche. "Fucking finally." He said as he leaned down and cupped your face. "And I found you first at that." He chuckled angrily. He let go of your face and used his vision to get the tree off of your foot. You quickly pulled your foot back and he let the tree back down. Scaramouche picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. "We're going back home then, I'll sort out your punishment." He said and you whimpered..

Another time skip sorry

"Y/n!!" Venti exclamed as he hugged you. "Why did you ever think that it was okay to leave us? Hmm my dove?" You didn't respond. "He asked a question." Scaramouche said. "I don't know.." You said as you fidget with your hands. "That's okay, you'll just have to learn to not I suppose." Venti said as he smiled. Venti picks you up bridal style he giggled and brought you to the basement. The others follow. He sets you a familiar bed. "Whats her punishment Scara, you found her." Venti asked. "Don't call me that. And I can think of one, breaking their legs so definitely can't leave again." Scaramouche said. "W-wait I'm sorry please don't!" You said. "You shouldn't have escaped then." Scaramouche said.

Idk how to write that, so after he broke your legs 😚

You were crying on your bed as Venti rubbed your back. "Hey, it's okay." He said. "It's not okay, nothing is okay about this!" You yelled. Venti grabbed your ankle roughly and you yelped in pain. "What's so wrong about it?" He asked in a dark tone. "Y-You kidnapped me, hurt me a-and say 'oh but I love you!' what did you think I was gonna think about this?" You responded and Venti sighed. "My dove, we're doing it for you, it's a dangerous world out there. You had a tree fall on your foot, of course I'm gonna want to keep you safe.." He said and smiled softly but he still held your hurt ankle.

You sniffled and laid back down knowing nothing you say will get through to him.

#xiao x reader angst #yandere xiao #yandere venti #yandere scaramouche #yandere kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #Scaramouche x reader angst #venti x reader #venti x reader angst #kazuha x reader

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seretoningghost · 9 months

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Tamaki Amajiki x Male Reader

Warnings: SMUT.

Also my new and old works can also be found on my Wattpad! AnonymousN3rd!

TOP Male Reader!

This one involves public sex - but no getting caught or seen.

Also its written in a new Pov I haven't really done before, where I use 'you'.

Like instead of 'Y/N quickly' I use 'You quickly', but when characters talk about you I still use Y/N.

Let me know if you like this more! Because I'm still unsure if I should use it!

THIRD PERSON POV

He couldn't understand....

"Hah~.. Hah~.. Ah... Hah~.."

Gentle paced wet slaps could be heard in the quiet room, the air heated and uncomfortable.

It was unbearable for the two in the room.

The desk below Tamaki squeaked quietly.

He just couldn't understand... Why you insisted upon fucking him in all the worst places.

Tamaki shifted on the desk, you shifting your hand again and taking a tight squeeze on his right thigh.

Tamaki shivered, biting his lip to hold back a whimper of pleasure.

He was propped up slightly on his elbows behind him, his lower back to the desk.

You had lewdly taken hold of his right thigh, and were holding it up - using it as leverage to get a better angle to fuck him stupid.

His left stretched out and hung over the edge of his desk.

His pants and boxers hanging from that exact leg.

Tamaki's body was hot as he shivered, practically unable to bear it.

His face was ablaze in a dark maroon, he was so embaressed.

He tried to persuade you to simply take him back to his room - but after class you thought it would be risque~ to fuck in the class.

Tamaki always began to question how his sweet loving boyfriend was so naughty at times like these.

For Tamaki getting caught was a turn off, but when it came to pleasing you - he was putty.

Plus when his boyfriend groaned in his ear, telling him it would be alright as long as they were quiet - he just couldn't take it.

Tamaki whined quietly, a sharp twist deep in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about getting caught.

He couldn't tell if it felt good or not - but it was almost like a sense of overstimulation, where it caused him to think he was practically about to orgasm.

"Y-Y/N... Ah~.... W-Why do you I-insist on f-f-fuckIng m-me e-everywhere?" He whimpered quietly, taking a sharp inhale.

"I think it's dangerous... And the faces you make are so sexy~.." You grinned as you leaned inward.

Tamaki moaned quietly, turning his head - he was about to explode from how dirty you were.

"Its like your trying to keep your face presentable... And your failing so miserably~." You smiled mockingly.

"Mmhh-" Tamaki whined, squeezing his eyes shut.

His cock throbbing.

"Ah... I-Im g-gonna c-cum..." Tamaki whined quietly.

He wanted to arch his back hard, tilt his head back and indulge in his sweet sweet orgasm brought to him by his favorite person, and let out medium volume moans.

But he couldn't do that, because then they'd get caught and expelled from UA.

Tamaki shuddered hard, he didn't like this.

He wanted to enjoy his orgasm.

His cock twitched feebly.

"P-Please Y/N.." He silently plead, trying to hold back orgasm.

You grinned, you knew Tamaki was a nervous and shy guy.

But he really liked to be lewd, like lots of people he was really horny practically all the time.

He was never very loud during sex - but very noisy and vocal, always muttering or whimpering something.

A small sound - a soft 'please', a nice 'so good', 'more', or even a cute lusty 'I love you'.

Its not always everyones style to 'L bomb' in bed, but it most certainly was Tamaki's.

He was quite the rambler.

But when he came - oh boy, he got louder - granted not by much, but at least you two never had to worry about the 'why is your voice so raspy, Tamaki?'.

But when he got just that bit louder - you knew you were doing something right.

"W-What? You think were gonna stop now?" You groaned, leaning in, feeling your own orgasm creeping up on you.

Despite your hips moving gentle and slow you both felt close.

"P-Please.... I-I don't l-like to h-old it..." He whimpered.

"Please.." Tamaki panted breathlessly.

There was no way you were gonna stop when you were so achingly close, so you had a better idea.

Shifting your right hand to the front of his thigh, pulling his thigh towards you to keep it secure.

Then moving your left hand from his hip - and covering his mouth.

"Cum..." You whimpered, getting closer.

Tamaki could feel your cock throbbing inside himself - he whined quietly, he knew there was no way to get you to stop anytime soon.

Tamaki's thighs shivered, he was on the edge.

He shifted his body again, cringing as the desk squeaked a bit more at that.

Your breaths were quickening, and you sped your hips up just a bit more - Tamaki could feel your thrusts getting sloppy.

Tamaki practically melted, he always loved how unhinged and messy you got with him, showed you loved him.

His cock throbbed at the cute display.

Pleasant tingles racked up his spine, his muscles enjoyably tensing and his back arching steadily.

"F-Fuck... Tamaki.. Your so g-good..." You whined quietly.

Tamaki's body shivered thoroughly, letting out a louder moan of your name - muffled through your hand.

"A-ah~! Y-Y/N!" He whimpered.

His insides tightening roughly as he came, you groaning at the practically unbearable pleasure it brought.

You soon finished off too, not pulling out because you knew how Tamaki liked it.

Giving a few soft weaker thrusts as Tamaki's muscles clamped down - helping you two ride out your orgasms.

With a soft shudder cum rolled off of Tamaki's bare belly, trickling down his abs.

You only hoped it didn't get on his uniform that you two simply unbuttoned.

After a quiet pantful pause, you slowly pulled out.

Tamaki giving a harsh shudder and a soft moan, his stomach wrenching in heat.

You quietly and quickly pulled up your pants and boxers, buttoning yourself back up.

Quickly grabbing the handkerchief out of your pocket and cleaning Tamaki's sticky mess up.

You didn't have to worry about cleaning up your orgasm just yet because Tamaki's muscles always tightened right back up.

You simply hurried in helping Tamaki get his uniform back on, knowing he would freak out if you two stayed longer than you had to.

Quickly straightening his uniform out as he wobbled slightly.

Then straightening your own uniform out.

"Well.. That was nice... How about... Cuddles at my room?" You smiled.

Tamaki held your arm for balance for a brief second.

"Oh? W-Well... A-actually I-I kinda want... A-a r-real orgasm.." Tamaki quietly whispered, looking down at the ground.

Your eyes glinted with lust, both of your libido drives being flamed up again.

"Oh~? I didn't just give you a good one~?" You tease with a naughty grin, leaning into his ear, fanning it with hot charged breath.

"Y-Y/N... Y-You know what I-I m-mean..." He whimpered, diverting his hesd even more down.

"You want to moan loudly~? You want to wiggle and squirm in pleasure~? You want to bite and scratch me~?" You teased in a low whisper.

Tamaki blushed wildly, being flushed and excited beyond words.

Simply grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the classroom.

You chuckled quietly, finding Tamaki's quiet lust adorable.

"Don't worry... This time its whatever you want." You smiled, loving your boyfriend.

A pleaurable twist of hot lust could be felt in the deepest pit of Tamaki's stomach.

He was going to hold you to that, even if he had to beg and tease for it.

#bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #x male reader #seme male reader #tamaki amajiki #male reader smut #smut #+18 content #+18 blog

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tenelkadjowrites · 1 year

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♥ Lonely in Gorgeous ♥ - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

☕Summary: Seonghwa is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and he happens to frequent the coffee shop you run. Your crush on him feels hopeless and overpowering until he finds out that you practice photography in your spare time.

☕Word count: 8,700

☕Genre and warnings: one shot. fem pronouns for reader. unprotected sex. creampie. oral sex, both reader receiving and reader giving.

☕Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @spiderrenjunfics - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @rdiamond2727 - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @xirenex - @cherrypandora - sorry if i forgot anyone.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

He’s here again.

You know that it is rude to keep a customer waiting but at the sight of him sitting at the counter, fingers drumming against the small white menu, looking at the framed photos near the coffee machine, you are momentarily frozen.

He hasn’t been around your café in a little over six months and you just assumed he found somewhere else to grab a coffee. It happens; in the city, there is always a franchise waiting to open on every corner, luring away even your regulars to the promise of a loyalty rewards system and coffee served in a drive thru. How could you compete with something like that?

But now, the most otherworldly beautiful man that you’ve ever seen with your own eyes is back in your café, quietly waiting for you to exit the kitchen to take his order. You don’t even know his name, you just know that the average person wandering this planet would never achieve the sort of beauty this man casually possesses: his bright almost silver blonde hair with just a hint of the black roots coming in, his baggy white t-shirt that has the faded logo of some beach town you’ve never heard of, a bracelet that looks as if it has multiple small diamonds on it rests gracefully on his small wrist, cheekbones carved from marble, lips perfectly plump and faintly pink – lip gloss or just naturally that pink? Hard to tell. Everything about him makes your knees weak, your heart beat too quickly and your tongue get tied. It is, frankly, embarrassing which meant it had been a relief when he suddenly stopped showing up.

Knowing that you couldn’t dawdle any longer, you exit the tiny kitchen. His eyes land on you immediately, half lidded like a sleepy cat, his posture softening slightly at the sight of you.

“S-sorry to keep you waiting,” You say before he can speak, “Have you decided on what you would like?”

You can’t meet his gaze directly; it would be akin to staring at the sun. He’s just too beautiful.

“Can I have an oat milk lavender latte please?” His voice is deep yet soft at the same time, the sort of tone that you feel in your bones.

You nod, hurriedly turning around to the coffee machine. He is the only customer in the shop. It is a quiet late Wednesday afternoon, and the sun is slanting in through the blinds, sending lazy sunlight splashing across the wood floors. The coffee shop playlist is on quietly in the background, and all the small, cozy seating areas are empty. All the places he could have sat at and he picks the countertop, you think with a small inward sigh.

“I wasn’t sure if this place would still be open. I feel like every time I come into town, everything is slightly different like a puzzle where the pieces keep shifting when I look away.”

Torn between being as professional as possible and wanting to melt into the floor, you look over your shoulder and reply, “Nope, still open. At least for now. I have a group of regulars that help out a lot.” I made sense, you think with relief, nice…now to just keep talking to a minimum so I don’t fuck it up.

He leans forward a little, his elbows on the countertop, the diamond bracelet resting gently against the surface. It catches the sunlight and glimmers for one brief second.

“Could you make a little heart on that top?” He asks sheepishly.

“Oh, sure, no problem.”

He smiles a little, relaxing back into his earlier position. Your heart does a flip, making you worry that the coffee cup is going to slip from your fingers or something equally embarrassing. Turning your attention to the drink, you finish making it, with the heart shaped art included and bring it over to him, unable to look directly at his face.

The only thing in your vision is the sight of one of his fingers touching the rim, trailing across it before going to the handle of the oversized mug and then stopping.

“This is really pretty. Is it okay if I take a photo for my Instagram?”

“Oh, y-yes, that sounds great. Thank you so much.”

“I have a bad habit of taking photos of every coffee I drink,” He explains as if anyone taking pics of what they eat or drink is odd anymore, “By the way, my name is Seonghwa.”

Exhaling slowly, you steel your nerves to raise your head upwards and look at him. It is unfair of the universe to plop someone like this in your café, even crueler to make him so friendly and approachable. Aren’t pretty people supposed to be assholes? Or did movies just lie to you?

You manage to say your name and not the name of your uncle or something and follow up with, “I remember you from ah…like six months ago or so. You were here pretty frequently.” Immediately, you regret the observation. Did that make you look odd? As if you were just peering at him drinking a coffee every time he was here? You try to correct yourself, “Uh, with my memory, I have a hard time forgetting people after they pop in a few times.”

But if Seonghwa finds you strange, it doesn’t show on his face. “I live pretty close to here and I like the vibe. It’s quiet, open later than other places, and your coffee always tastes good. But I was overseas for the last six months, I just got back a couple nights ago.”

“Wow, for that long?” Genuine curiosity takes over and for a brief second, you forget to be tongue tied by how handsome he is.

“Yeah, my agency had me all over for a bit doing work.”

“Agency?”

He laughs a little and playfully taps his forehead. “Sorry, I forgot, yeah, I’m a model.”

The tongue tied feeling immediately returns. Of course he’s a model. Why wouldn’t he be a model? No one could look like this and not be one.

You must look stricken because he holds his hands up, shaking his head quickly. “I know, I know what you’re thinking.”

No, you definitely do not.

Scrambling for something to say, you go, “Well, I don’t know much about modeling. I think my entire frame of reference is Zoolander.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to groan loudly. Did you really just compare his career to that movie?

But his grin only deepens as he replies, “You know, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

Thanking the universe for the lucky break, you push your luck by continuing to speak, “Is it like…ah, fashion modeling? Like in magazines? Or more of an Instagram thing?”

“It’s fashion. I bounce between walking shows and doing shoots for ad campaigns and stuff. Occasionally some spreads in magazines too.”

“Damn, really? That’s impressive.”

Seonghwa, having finished taking a photo of the coffee, finally takes a sip. He looks pleased with the taste, gently placing the mug back down on the saucer. Yeah, you could definitely see this guy in magazines. You wonder if you’ve skipped past him in magazines before but then decide there is no way – you would remember someone like him. He makes your insides feel like jelly and your head feel stuffed full of cotton.

“I’m kinda excited because I have a magazine coming out next week and I’m apparently in a few photos. It’s a high fashion magazine that previously always seemed to never pick my photos so I’m excited.”

“What’s the name of it?”

“Oh, are you going to pick up a copy just to see me? But I’m here for free in the flesh,” His tone is light, teasing but a shiver rolls down your back that makes you stand straighter. If it had been anyone else but the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life, you would wonder if he was flirting. But since it is the hottest guy to walk this earth…

“H-hey, it isn’t every day that I sort of know someone who is going to be in a magazine,” You say without fainting.

Seonghwa gestures to the framed photos on the wall. “I just assumed whoever took these pics had been in magazine before.”

Surprised, you glance over your shoulder to your photos decorating the wall near the coffee machine. Taking photos has been a hobby of yours for a few years now and your friends had convinced you to put some up in the shop. You are extremely critical on your photography but everyone else always said such kind things about them. But never anyone this attractive, you think.

“Oh, I took them,” You admit sheepishly, looking back at him, “It’s just a hobby.”

He tilts his face to the side a little, his eyes darting from the framed photos to you. “Well, for just a hobby they look really good.”

“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

The conversation is interrupted by a small cluster of people entering the store. One look at them makes it clear they are tourists who probably found the coffee shop on the map app.

Seonghwa gives you a small smile. “Conversation over for now, I guess.”

The group tosses their shopping bags and other items near one of the sections that has a couch and a couple of chairs, one person breaking off to come gawk at the menu that is on the wall. You excuse yourself from him, going over to take care of the new customers.

By the time everything is ordered and made, Seonghwa has left, his chair cold from the absence of him. There is no lip gloss smear on the rim of the mug. Damn, his lips really are just naturally that pink. What a jerk.

You feel like a thief in the night. Shoulders hunched, small shopping bag striking against your leg as your fingers furiously flick through the pages of the magazine. The tinny noise of the piped in music irritates your ears and the store is a little too crowded for your liking – for your purpose.

With defeat, the magazine comes to an end, and you place it back on the shelf. You are about a block from your place, having stopped in the corner store to grab a few items after closing up the coffee shop for the night. Having already purchased what you needed, halfway out the door, the sight of the magazines brought you to a halt.

Seeing as it had been a week since seeing Seonghwa, that would mean that the magazine he mentioned would be out. The problem was that you hadn’t actually gotten the name of it.

Which is why, twenty minutes later, you have flipped through the majority of the fashion magazines on the shelf and had yet to see his gorgeous face among the glossy pages.

You’ve lost it. What are you, sixteen with a crush? Who acts like this? You scold yourself, picking up another magazine. You should be home by now, making tea and unwinding. Instead, you’re hunched over this magazine as if it is a guilty secret that you’re trying to find him. Surely sane people do not act this way –

Your diatribe against yourself is cut short by the sight of Seonghwa’s face looking up at you from one of the pages. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him in black turtleneck and perfectly tailored slacks, the belt resting lightly around his slender hips as he leans against the wall. His face is turned slightly to the side, the light catching his cheekbone. You turn the page, finding another photo of him with a model, their bodies slightly entwined, a beautiful pool sparkling behind them. His gaze is softer in this one, directly at the camera, one long necklace dipping underneath his shirt, his collarbone exposed. The final photo is of him stepping out of the pool, a white t-shirt soaking wet and flat against his skin, exposing his toned stomach and the dip of his waist. He is pushing his hair back, the look in his eyes hard and mischievous as if he is saying I know your secret.

Your cheeks unusually warm, you quickly close the magazine, wondering how a few photos could make your heart rate so elevated. Too shy and embarrassed to purchase it, you hurriedly place it back on the shelf and scurry out of the store, convinced everyone knows what you’re thinking about.

He comes again, a few days after the magazine incident, sitting in the same seat at the counter. You are making a coffee for another customer when Seonghwa enters, leaving you to try to pretend not to notice him right away. The photos are still burned in your mind, especially the one of him exiting the pool, and some part of you wishes he would just go away. Go to Starbucks or something instead.

Today, Seonghwa is wearing a grey t-shirt with a logo of a diner you’ve also never heard of. It looks well worn, a little too large for his frame. He has a different bracelet on, a small gold band that rests on his wrist. His hair is damp as if he just showered, curling against his neck in soft blonde swirls. He is looking at the menu, studying it quietly while waiting for you to finish up with the customer.

Steeling yourself, you walk over and greet him, saying his name a little too softly as if it is a fragile thing instead of belonging to just another customer. He looks up, smiling at the sight of you which threatens to immediately shift you into System Overload.

“What can I get you?”

“I’d just like an espresso today,” He shifts slightly in his seat as if going to add something on but decides against it.

You go to make the espresso, fighting the urge not to glance over at him. Some part of you wants to say that you saw his photos in the magazine but are too paranoid in case he asks questions. You would rather die than admit that you went scouring through a ton just to see his modeling photos.

Finishing up, you bring the espresso over, gently placing it in front of him. Seonghwa shifts again and then leans forward just a little, just enough so that you catch the scent of clean laundry and cinnamon clinging to his shirt.

“My magazine came out,” He finally says, “I got around three photos in it. I was sorta hoping for five but better than nothing.”

I don’t think I could have handled five photos.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it while asking, “Do you mind if I show you them? Is that – I mean, would that be weird? I know I’m just a customer but I am pretty pleased with them. And since you take photos, I thought…” Seonghwa trails off, sounding unsure.

“Well, I just take landscape photos. I don’t know if any of that would translate to modeling,” You stall only because you aren’t sure how to keep a straight face if he shows you these pics.

“I think you’d be fine,” He says confidently, sliding the phone over, “Do you look at fashion photos or magazines at all?”

On the screen is the first photo of him in the turtleneck. Swallowing hard, you go, “Not typically.”

“My agent says I don’t have enough of a social media presence. They’re really pushing the whole ‘influencer’ thing on me. I’m pushing back a bit because my interests don’t go there but I think they kinda had a point about posting more modeling photos on my Instagram, for my Instagram only.”

Seonghwa flicks to the next photo, the one with the necklace by the pool. You hope that your facial features are comprised into an expression of mild interest and nothing else. But Seonghwa seems to be lost in thought, his gaze a bit hazy.

“You take photos…” He trails off.

You should know what he is going to suggest. But your brain is fried from dealing with real Seonghwa and also model Seonghwa in the photos so the words leave his mouth easily without any warning signals going off in your head.

“Maybe you could take some photos for me? I’d pay you, of course, and I could post them on my Instagram. Your café is really cute. We could take them here, one night after you close.”

Talk about taking a battering ram to your chest. You protest immediately with, “Like I said, I only have taken landscapes. I have no experience in the sort of photos you’re looking for.”

“They’re just for Instagram. They don’t have to be anything special.”

“Yeah but surely you know someone else that is actually skilled in modeling photos who could do this for you?” It isn’t that you don’t want to do it, of course the part of you that thinks Seonghwa is gorgeous would love nothing more, but to be that close to him, alone in the café, makes your palms sweat from nerves.

Seonghwa looks awkward as he admits, “I tend to keep to myself. I don’t have as many connections as others working in the industry do. It’s my own fault. I come off unapproachable. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

It’s your beauty. It’s just too much. Makes people insecure. Without thinking, you reply, “It’s because you’re too gorgeous. I don’t think it has anything to do with your demeanor.”

Seonghwa looks surprised, in the middle of taking a sip of his espresso, his eyebrows arching slightly. You immediately regret the remark, knowing that it exposes the fact you’ve noticed his appearance. But how could you not? How could anyone not? After all, you’re just human.

“So, what are you saying? That because I’m gorgeous, that’s why I’m lonely?”

“Basically,” Your cheeks are starting to feel warm again especially from his casual admission of being lonely, best to get out of the conversation, “I should make sure the other customer doesn’t need anything. Enjoy your espresso though.”

Going to turn around, Seonghwa raises the arm with the bracelet as if going to reach out for you but thinking the better of it. “Wait,” He says, his lips that same perfect pink colour from the last visit, “You didn’t answer.”

Staring in that beautiful face of his, the request seems like a bad idea for a few reasons: no experience in taking the sort of photos Seonghwa wants, the fact you are enamored with him, the idea of being around him alone for an extended period of time…

But the photos are just for his Instagram. And as overwhelming as it is to be near him, I also want it more than anything.

You hesitate before going, “Are you sure? Like I said, I have no experience in…”

“I’m sure,” He says firmly, “I think our energies match up pretty well. Don’t you?”

The remark takes you by surprise. You haven’t given much thought to your energies mostly because standing next to him made you feel as if your heart was going to explode. What’s the worst that could happen? You get to practice something new with your photography, spend time around someone stunning, and then life goes on.

With affected casualness, you give a small shrug of your shoulders and go, “Alright.”

Seonghwa relaxes back in the seat, shooting a smile at you that shows off his perfectly white and straight teeth. Your insides start to vibrate at a frequency that could shatter glass. The two of you exchange numbers, giving you a way out from seeing the photo of Seonghwa by the pool which could easily crack the nonplussed exterior you are trying to exude.

But there is one final thing that is poking at your brain. You know it could come off odd but unable to help yourself, you ask, “Do you own any lip gloss?”

“Lip gloss?” Seonghwa blinks in surprise, “I think I do. Why?”

“You should bring it.”

He waits for a second to see if you would explain why but when you don’t, he simply goes, “Alright.”

He then finishes his espresso, giving you a small wave as you head towards the other customer. On the way out, Seonghwa glances briefly over his shoulder at you and then the street swallows him up, leaving you with the memory of the conversation and the anticipation of the photoshoot.

It takes a couple of days to set up a time that works for both of you. Admittedly, you would clear any part of your schedule in order to take photos of Seonghwa but in an attempt not to look down bad, you deny the first time given. When he suggests Sunday night, you agree but your nerves only grow as the time approaches closer and closer.

Since your café stays open later than most, Seonghwa isn’t due to arrive until around nine that night. After closing up shop at eight, you try to tidy up a bit but instead find yourself wandering around aimlessly, butterflies in your stomach. You aren’t convinced that any photos worthwhile will be taken nor are you sure what to talk about with him during the few hours spent together.

The café windows have large blinds to block out the setting sun and you make sure they are pulled down for privacy. You try to rearrange some of the pillows on one of the couches but give up. Plopping down on it instead, you lean your head back and stare at the ceiling.

I don’t know anything about this guy except he’s hot. I have got to get a grip. I’m sure a few hours with him will prove there’s something unlikeable that will turn me off, gorgeous or not. You’ve never had a crush on a customer before and to have one on someone who looks like Seonghwa feels comical. Talk about out of your league.

A few minutes past nine, there is a soft knock on the door, jolting you out of your thoughts. Nervously, you exhale, go over the front door of the café and open it.

Seonghwa stands in the moonlight which spills across his hair like a silken pool. He wears a white button up that has the sleeves rolled up a bit, a charm bracelet dangling from one wrist, and black slacks. He looks as elegant ever and your chest tightens at the sight of him.

“Hey,” You say, moving to the side so he can enter.

As you lock the café door, he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand to show you something. “Brought the lip gloss.”

The elegant bottle has the Dior logo on it, a sheer lip gloss with tiny specks of glitter in it. It rests in the palm of his hand.

“Great,” You reply, “Uhm, I was thinking maybe I could get the light to catch it. It might look good in the photo. But like I said before, I don’t really take photos of people. Just places.”

“It’s fine.” He doesn’t seem concerned, moving past you towards the largest seating area. “Like I said before, it’s just for my Instagram. Nothing special.”

“But still, it’s important to your image and that ties directly to your work.”

“You’re thinking more about this than I am,” Seonghwa admits, turning to face you, “It’s just Instagram. Don’t overthink it.”

You aren’t entirely convinced but his casual demeanor about it does make you feel a tiny bit better. You aren’t exactly positive that you are capable of capturing his beauty in a photo, given your lack of skills in this area. If the pictures suck, he doesn’t have to use them. You’re just overthinking this because he’s hot.

“Is there a certain spot we should start?” He asks.

“We can start here, if you’d like.” It is hitting you that you’re going to have to give some direction – another reason you just work with landscapes.

Seonghwa extends his hand out to you, the Dior lip gloss glinting smartly in the dim lighting of the café. “You want to put this on now?”

Surprised, you go, “Me?”

“I forgot my mirror.”

The logical side of you wants to point out the fact the bathroom has a mirror. But the other side of you, the larger side, is drawn to Seonghwa like a moon around a planet. Your feet betray you first and it is only a few steps until your body is right in front of him.

Gingerly taking the lip gloss from his hand, your fingertips touching the palm of his hand – a touch so minor that it wouldn’t be normally wouldn’t be noticeable but this one makes you dizzy – twisting the lid off and pulling out the tiny wand.

Reaching out, you press the wand against his lips, smearing the gloss across the bottom lip first and then the top. Seonghwa is looking at you steadily, as if this doesn’t feel oddly intimate or weirdly sorta familiar. The way he looks at you makes your thighs clench and your chest burn. It feels strange to be this close to someone so beautiful; it is as if a marble statue has come to life in front of you. When you finish, your heart is racing, and you hastily shove the lip gloss back in his hand.

“Ready?” You ask, unable to look at Seonghwa, wondering how you’ll get through the night intact.

It becomes apparent very quickly that your tension is seeping into the photos. Unsure what direction to give Seonghwa, it ends up being more of you following his lead. He begins to come up with ideas but there still feels like some sort of barrier between the camera lens and himself. You blame yourself; your lack of knowledge in this type of photography combined with your own feelings about Seonghwa are leading to the result you expected: lackluster photos.

Seonghwa, who has been incredibly polite the entire night, at one point finally jokes, “Maybe if I took my clothes off the photos would look better.”

And without thinking, you reply, “No, I think that wet t-shirt photo in the magazine was enough.”

You don’t realize the slip up at first because your focus on the next shot is overpowering everything else. It is Seonghwa who looks startled and then something flickers across his face, so fast that it would have been missed if you hadn’t snapped a photo at that second. It is then that you realize your mistake.

Fuck, he never actually showed me that pic the other day. You had made sure to scurry off before the photo appeared on his phone screen. Lowering the camera, you struggle to find some sort of lie, something to explain how you knew about the photo.

But he swiftly talks over your stammering words. “You saw the photoshoot before I showed it, didn’t you?”

With no clever lie coming to your head, all you say is, “Yeah.” When Seonghwa continues to stare silently, you clear your throat a little and explain, “I found the magazine with the photoshoot. I saw them then.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He takes a step forward. “You looked at the photos as if they were brand new.”

“I just felt embarrassed,” You mumble, unable to form any further words.

“Why?” Seonghwa presses, taking another step forward.

The last thing you intend to do is start gushing about how he makes you feel, how you find him so attractive your head spins, and that none of the photos are going to turn out well because your desire and fear of being discovered is a barrier in the lens.

“Does it matter?” You snap, the tone a lot harder than intended, “Can we please get back to the photos?”

“No,” Seonghwa is close to you now, his eyes slightly downcast, his long lashes bright against his skin, “Answer my question.”

“Why does it matter?” You reply hotly, “It has nothing to do with anything.”

“The pictures will improve if you’re honest. You’re holding back and it’s interfering with everything. I can feel it but I didn’t understand why so I didn’t want to say anything.”

Exasperated, nervous and frustrated, you spit out, “It’s because I find you attractive, okay? But that isn’t really that weird. I mean, you’re aware of what you look like. You’re a model. So, you know that you’re hot. I wanted to see your photos because you talked about them and I was curious. I found the magazine in the store and looked at them. But I just didn’t want you to think I was sneaking around being creepy looking at photos of you so I just didn’t say anything. Happy?” You wish that it could be possible to melt into the floor and fade from the world. Your cheeks burn and you cannot look Seonghwa in the face.

Since you are looking downward, you find yourself staring at his shoes. They look expensive, not a scuff on them. You are embarrassed at your outburst but don’t know what else to say. The silence drags on for too long. You can hear Seonghwa quietly breathing, can smell the clean laundry clinging to his crisp white shirt.

“Am I that distracting?” He finally asks, “You gave no indication. You just stated matter of fact that my appearance could leave me isolated from others which was a keen observation. I didn’t think you noticed me in that manner.”

“What?” You look upwards now, confused, “You’re joking. I think every conversation was cobbled from one braincell working around you.”

“I had no idea. That’s why…” For the first time since meeting him, he looks unsure. “That’s why I liked coming here. Even before my trip overseas. Every small conversation with you felt natural and normal. There was no mention of my appearance other than on my terms and you never seemed to not be listening to me because you were too busy staring. Sometimes, I feel like…ah, well, I am not really a person, more of a commodity to be viewed because of how I look. Everything is about my looks. It never felt like that when we talked.”

You don’t know how to reply. On one hand, you worry that your admission has lumped you in with the others. But it is still the truth, which he requested, and therefore to recant it would be a lie. So you just stand there, the camera heavy in your hands, unsure where to go from here.

The idea of being so beautiful that it puts up some sort of wall in between you and others is too much of a foreign concept to wrap your head around. You don’t want to belittle such a problem either; it would be something you would laugh at if read online but in person, staring at Seonghwa, you feel a little bit of pity.

Curiosity gets the better of you. “Is that why you got into modeling?”

“I fell into it. It wasn’t really a conscious decision. I got swept along with the tide. But I’m good at it. And I make good money,” He steps away from you, loosening up his shoulders and relaxing his posture, “Alright, everything out in the air now, right?” His fingers go to the buttons on his shirt, undoing two near his neck, showing a little bit of his chest. A thin silver necklace is exposed, a delicate chain resting against his skin. “Let’s try it again.”

Relief sweeps through you. Regardless of if Seonghwa is disappointed that his beauty impacted you or not, the awkward conversation is complete. There are no more secrets to discuss or weird vibes hanging around. Perhaps it would make a difference after all.

Strangely enough, it does. You find it easier to relax, to move closer to Seonghwa to achieve different shots. He seems more at ease as well, kicking off his shoes and trying different poses around the café. Somehow, over the course of the night, the buttons on the front of his shirt steadily undo, exposing more skin. Instead of distracting you, the camera catches the necklace against his toned chest, becoming the centerpiece of a few photos. Between that and the lip gloss, you are starting to think maybe the photoshoot won’t be a loss after all.

It is nearing eleven at night before you lower the camera, your legs aching from the uncomfortable position you’ve been settled in to get a shot of Seonghwa laying on the couch. His blonde hair is spread out around his face, framing it like a fragile halo, his lips shimmering, almost his entire shirt undone and slipping off his sides, exposing his chest and abdomen.

Having been so caught up in taking the photos, you hadn’t realized how you’ve been perched over Seonghwa. Your legs protest, causing you to flail awkwardly. His hands fly to your hips, grabbing onto them before you topple painfully into him. The camera hits the carpet with a small thudding noise as your hands come down flat against his stomach to steady yourself.

“Wow, sorry. My legs are numb, didn’t pay attention to what I was doing and for how long,” You explain sheepishly.

He laughs a little, another glimmer of perfectly white teeth. “It’s okay.”

It is then you become hyperaware of the fact that you are straddling him against the couch, his hands on your waist, his shirt unbuttoned and your fingertips against his bare skin. He looks like moonglow underneath you, all silver and white, something made for paintings and to be captured through a camera lens, not to be physically touched.

Scampering off him, you sit at the other side of the couch, trying to collect yourself. The casual air that formed between you since the admission of finding him attractive is now back to the same strained tension earlier. Seonghwa sits up, turning slightly so that he is facing you, one leg tucked underneath him, the other dangling off the couch. It is a casual pose, heightened by the way his shirt is open and hangs off his shoulders, one that would be great for a photo if your skin didn’t feel aflame and the camera was still on the carpet.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” You go, swallowing hard, risking a glance over at him.

“Sure,” He murmurs, “I think we got some good stuff in the second half.”

“Me too. I’ll send you what I have once I go through everything.”

“Alright.”

�� But neither of you move. The café is extremely silent and the only noise is the occasional car driving by outside. Your hand is very close to his, mere inches away on the couch cushion. For a split second, you think about reaching for him but quickly wonder what is wrong with you.

Seonghwa moves his hand away, taking your heart with it. He scoops your camera off the carpet and brings it to your lap, resting it gently there. Your hands curl around it as if it is an anchor.

His hand moves away from the camera and comes to rest on your thigh. Even though you’re wearing pants and there is no contact with your skin, the sight makes your head spin.

“I have something to tell you too,” Seonghwa goes as his hand travels upwards very slowly while shifting his entire body closer to you.

You manage to go, “Oh, yeah?” successfully even though your brain feels as if it is sizzling in your skull.

“It kinda ties into what I was saying before. About how I liked coming here because you didn’t treat me any differently or talk about my appearance. Even if you noticed it, you didn’t mention it until I did. It felt…new. You’re the first person to ever tell me that I am simply too gorgeous. That’s why I came back here. I wanted to see you.”

Surprised, your eyes flick upwards to look at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” He isn’t looking at your eyes but your lips instead, his own slightly parted and glimmering with the expensive lip gloss.

“You mean because I may think there is more to you than being really really really ridiculously good looking?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to jump off a bridge. Why the fuck am I quoting Zoolander to this man? What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I like this?

But Seonghwa actually laughs, moving a little closer to your body. The proximity to him is doing your head in. You’ve never wanted anyone as badly as you want Seonghwa.

“I believe that I’m attracted to you,” He shockingly says in the aftermath of your terrible joke.

Even though the rushing of blood to your head is very loud, you manage to reply, “You believe? Is it that confusing?”

The two of you are closer than ever, so close that it wouldn’t take much for him to lean forward and kiss you. Your chest is tight from the hope that he will and from the worry that he won’t.

“May I kiss you to make sure?” His words are soft, taking root in your chest and wiggling down as if going to sleep under a large blanket.

You feel intoxicated as if you’re going to fall right into Seonghwa’s expression forever. You manage to nod and he brings one hand up to cup your cheek, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. Your entire body is melting into him, your mouth opening as the kiss deepens. His gloss smears against your lips, his grip tightening on your thigh briefly as goosebumps break out across your skin.

Kissing Seonghwa feels different than all the previous kisses you’ve had before. There is something comforting and familiar about it even though you have never touched him prior. Your brain is delicious white noise, no concerns about the fact he is too beautiful for you or this must be some fever dream you’re having in your bed.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, the kiss deepening. It is difficult to wrap your head around the fact you are kissing Seonghwa in your café with his shirt hanging off his shoulders, the necklace against his toned chest, his slender frame so close to yours.

The kiss ends as Seonghwa brings his lips down across your jawline to your neck, kissing and nuzzling the skin there until your toes curl with heightening pleasure. It is easy to succumb to Seonghwa, not simply because he is so stunning and ethereal to be around, but because there is a heart underneath the beauty, a loneliness that makes him human after all.

He nibbles at your neck, just lightly enough to drive you crazy, and there are no more words spoken and no more conversations needed about where the two of you stand. Driven forward simply by desire, you are both swept up in one another. You grab his hand and bring it to your chest and he begins to grope your tits through your shirt and bra, his breathing quickening at the unspoken permission given to him. His lips are back on yours, his tongue in your mouth, the movements growing impatient as both of you want more. The kiss breaks just so Seonghwa can remove your shirt, pulling down your bra to free your tits.

He lowers his head to suck on one your nipples, his fingers pinching and tugging on the other one to make you sigh as your body responds to his touch. One of your hands is in his hair, silver blonde locks in between your fingers as he switches to suck on your other nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin slightly – just enough to make you jump a little from the touch. This only seems to spurn him on more, his shirt sliding down off his shoulders to expose the soft skin of his back. There is something vulnerable about this, something that makes you want him in a way that has your head spinning.

One of his hands snakes down to the button of your jeans, swiftly undoing it and sliding the zipper down. Seonghwa pushes away from your tits, the lip gloss long gone by now. Instead, his lips are flushed with colour from the kissing and sucking on your nipples.

“That helped me clear things up,” He says breathlessly, “I think I’m certain now that I like you.”

You want to reply, say something coy, something cute, but your brain is too empty for that. All you can do is muster a nod. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice because he is too busy shifting off the couch to his knees in front of you.

Removing your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear with your bra bunched up under your tits, you would assume the nerves would strike now. Here you are, after all, with the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen getting ready to eat you out by some chance of fate but instead the entire situation…feels almost familiar in some sort of way. There is no anxiety or fretting about anything. It is as if everything has fallen into place with him even though it typically takes you ages to feel comfortable going this far with someone.

Your legs reflexively open to give him room as Seonghwa runs one finger down the front of your underwear, taking a mental note of how wet you already are. Lowering his head, he begins to leave a trail of kisses along your thighs, working his way closer to your underwear. You watch, entranced at a sight that you thought would never be possible, transfixed at the shock of blonde hair in between your legs.

Seonghwa presses his lips against the thin fabric of your underwear, moving upwards and blowing gently on your clit just to drive you crazy. Hooking his thumbs into the band of your underwear, he slides them off you, not wasting any time in probing your folds with his tongue.

Your head rolls back against the couch, losing yourself in the way his tongue slips in your hole, the soft moan escaping from his lips as he tastes you. His movements are more languid now, he is taking his time as if he has thought about this before. Meticulously, he moves his tongue upwards, avoiding your clit just to make you shiver with need.

His hands gently rest on your thighs to make sure your pussy remains before him as his tongue swoops downwards back into your hole. Seonghwa’s nose brushes against your clit, causing you to jump and look down at him.

His eyes are closed, content to just slowly pump his tongue in and out of your wet hole. You can hear the quiet motions of his tongue against your wetness. At some point he must have shrugged out of his shirt, leaving his bare shoulders exposed. You are aching with desire, wishing that Seonghwa would move his tongue to your clit. As if hearing you, he brings his mouth upwards and gives a small suck on your swollen nub. This makes you gasp but he doesn’t stop. His mouth encircles your clit and he gives a harder slurp on it before swirling his tongue around it.

Seonghwa starts to lap at your nub, his mouth hot against your cunt. You are shivering, your thighs shaking from the heightening pleasure. It is then that he opens his eyes to look at you. The sight makes you moan, your breathing hard and fast at the sight of Seonghwa buried in between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your clit. He looks patient as if he could live in between your thighs. Maybe it is from thinking about him so much or the fact it is surreal to see him like this but your orgasm is already approaching.

Seonghwa closes his eyes, going back to sucking on your clit. The sounds of him slurping on it are pornographic, your moaning groaning louder as you grip his hair. Your head rolls back once more, your entire body tingling as your thighs clench. Seonghwa doesn’t stop, doesn’t change his speed. He seems confident in that you’ll finish at the pace he has settled on and you know that he is right.

Your orgasm begins, so intense that your hips buck but he doesn’t stop what he is doing. Seonghwa works his tongue against your clit as you climax, your moaning loud and pleading, unable to control yourself. He slows down his ministrations as your orgasm begins to subside. Once you have finished and are trying to catch your breath, he lazily licks at your hole, waiting for you to be able to focus once again.

Then he pulls away from your cunt. If the sight of him drinking coffee had been enough to give you heart palpations then the image of Seonghwa with his messy hair and face covered in your juices might push you over the edge.

“I liked when you straddled me earlier,” His voice is taunt with desire, “Would you do it again?”

At this point you are convinced that you would do anything he requested. Giving a nod since you’re too out of breath to talk, Seonghwa stands up, quickly removing his pants and boxers, stroking his hard cock. The sight of him touching himself like that is too much – his long and slender fingers wrapped around his cock, the charm bracelet winking coyly at you, the necklace against his chest – he looks beautiful and before he can get on the couch, you lean forward and take him in your mouth.

Surprised by this, Seonghwa makes a small noise in the back of his throat that quickly turns into a stifled groan as your lips wrap around the head of his cock, tasting his precum. He is a little too large for your mouth but you start to suck on him, your cheeks hollowing as you do so. Drool pools on the bottom of your lips, sticky strands mixing with his precum. His hand is lightly resting on the back of your head, a silent plea for more. You take as much of him as possible until he hits the back of your throat. When his cock slips out of your mouth from gag reflex, the spit and cum has gotten all over your bra.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” He says and it is evident from his tone that some part of him is longing just for you to suck him until he unloads in your mouth, fighting against the other part of him that wishes to fuck you.

For the first time, you form a sentence that is tinged without anxiety or nerves. “Then fuck me.”

Seonghwa’s eyes are hazy with desire as he lays back down on the couch, his hands reaching out for your waist, tugging you back onto him in the same position as your accidental fall earlier. Your pussy presses against his hard cock and you rock your hips tentatively just to hear Seonghwa sharply inhale. He reaches down to hold his cock so you can bring yourself down on it.

Between the mess of your orgasm and his cock covered in spit and precum, your pussy takes him easily. The sensation is so intense that your hands go to his stomach to steady yourself, trying to get used to how stuffed you are.

“Fuck yourself on me,” He says, his voice like jagged glass, “I want to watch your pussy take my cock.”

You begin to bounce on him, taking him as deep as possible every time you move down. Seonghwa is underneath you like a sliver of the moon, his blonde hair tousled, his body slender and lithe, the necklace jostling with each bounce. His cheeks are flushed with slight colour, his lips a delicious pink. His hands are on your waist, helping you take his cock, eyes cast downward to watch the way your pussy swallows him. The sight is driving you wild which only drives you to thrust down harder.

With each movement, you can hear how wet you are and can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate him. You are dimly aware of the noise that you are making. The small part of your brain still running on logic cannot believe you’re fucking Seonghwa in your café but it is a very quiet part.

Seonghwa groans loudly, his eyes closing with one particularly hard thrust. He lifts his hips up, unable to help himself, driving his cock deep in your wet pussy. You gasp, your fingers tightening around his necklace for something to hold onto. This just seems to make him want more because he begins to jerk his hips up, no longer waiting for you. Your knuckles are white from the way you grip the necklace, leaning forward a bit as he rams his thick cock in you. You are groaning, begging for him not to stop because he is hitting your sweet spot from this angle. You’re going to cum again, this time around his girth.

Seonghwa is panting, erratically thrusting. Each jerk of his hips makes your body rock as your climax draws closer. You may be telling him that you’re close or it could be gibberish tumbling from your mouth; you aren’t sure. You don’t care. Urgently, you try to match his movements with your own, attempting to be in sync. But Seonghwa’s pace is impossible to match. Your face rests on his chest now, his hands moving from your hips to grip your ass, driving his cock deep in you. The sound of skin against skin is the loudest next to Seonghwa’s heartbeat in your ear. You think that you might be drooling against him, your head blissfully blank as your body shudders.

You curse loudly, and realize that you’ve tugged too hard on his necklace – the chain has broken and it is wrapped around your hand. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to care, too intent on chasing his own orgasm. With one final harried moan, your pussy tightens around his length as you begin to climax.

Seonghwa grunts, spilling out in your pussy, filling you up with his load. He shudders, going still as he finishes. You can feel how much cum is in you, can feel your pussy milking his cock for it, the way your thighs are sticky from it.

You go limp against him, slowly opening the palm of your hand to see tiny idents from the necklace against your skin.

“I broke your necklace,” You mumble, dazed as Seonghwa slips out of you, his breathing heavy.

“That’s okay,” He pants – clearly the necklace is not on his mind.

For the next ten minutes, the two of you are silent, just tired blobs entwined. At one point, you can feel him tracing lazy circles against your back as he gently stirs back to life.

“Well,” He finally says into the quiet café, “I guess the photoshoot went well.”

“Guess so,” You mumble, feeling content against him.

“Maybe we can do more in the future.”

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at Seonghwa. He doesn’t even look unsure or worried about your denial of such a request – a thinly veiled statement disguised as a question of asking you out – and why would he? The connection between the two of you is real, even if you find it difficult to wrap your head around it.

“Well, I guess it’ll help me practice my photography,” Another full sentence! Amazing what fucking someone can do for social anxiety, “So, I agree.”

Seonghwa gives you a small smile before pulling you towards him, his lips against yours, hands on your lower back. The words of this beautiful man who wants you are now shining brightly in your mind, a promise of things to come and of future possibilities with him.

the end.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fics #kpop fic #lonely in gorgeous #100 notes #500 notes

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steviewashere · 1 month

Text

Leaving is Hard, But Loving You is Easy

Rating: General CW: None Apply Tags: Post-Canon, Post Season 4, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Eddie Munson is Leaving Town, Saying Goodbye, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kisses, Making Out, Love Confessions, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington

💕—————💕 He watches Eddie Munson leave in the middle of a Wednesday evening, 1991. It’s just turned 6:10PM and the sunlight is dipping low. There’s a chill in the air. Though he’s wearing a sweater, the breeze is felt more with the expected absence that will be left. Maybe he shouldn’t have befriended the guy over the last several years. If it meant he’d be standing and staring at the guy’s back. Watching him lug boxes into a van that’s probably older than the both of them. Toying with the collar of his sweater like the soothed over fabric will warrant him to not be so lonely. Maybe it doesn’t help that it smells like cigarettes. Steve doesn’t smoke anymore.

“That’s everything, I think. Well, I’m hoping,” Eddie’s saying, turning around. His voice is low and raspy tonight. Like it is when it’s been overused. Makes sense, considering he’d been talking through goodbyes and big plans and sincere farewells. Steve’s the last on his list. He’s not sure whether to feel heartbroken or…Who is he kidding? Of course he’s heartbroken.

One doesn’t become friends with somebody like Eddie Munson and then not be overcome with emotion when he leaves. But also. He doesn’t want to just be friends. Steve holds to himself, tight around the elbows, hunching inwards. Maybe if he’s small, the leaving will hurt less. He also doesn’t allow himself to look. Instead focused on a spot of rust on the van’s bumper. At the brand new DMV sticker on his license plate; it won’t expire for a while now. When he’s not even in Hawkins anymore. When he’s long gone elsewhere.

Eddie sits down right where Steve’s looking. Legs extended in front of him. A cigarette dangling between his chapped lips. Not even lit up. He doesn’t have a lighter right now anyway. Steve should know, Eddie’d been complaining about it for the last three days. He mumbles around the stick, “I’m not going to miss this place.”

“Really?” Steve finds himself asking. Though, he realizes it comes out more as a sigh. A breath. A certain type of mourning. He zeroes in on the knee hole of Eddie’s jeans. Large and manmade. Rippling on the edges and cinched oddly from strings of taut denim that Eddie has since plucked away. Probably from toying with the hole too much. From being restless on Steve’s couch during movie nights or birthed from slow lulls in Dungeons & Dragons campaigns or simply made from being shoved over in games of tag at Hopper’s barbecues.

“Well, yeah, Stevie,” Eddie says. As if it should be obvious. “People don’t like me ‘round here. I’ve felt that way for years. Now it’s my chance to leave.” He sighs through his nose. Like he’s actually smoking the cigarette in his mouth. Then, he continues quietly, “The only good thing to come out of…That hellhole and everything…Was the money to keep me silent. Put it away safely. Now, I’m gonna use it to find myself in a place where I’ll just be a speck. Nobody knows me, that kind of shit.”

Steve nods slowly. Agreeing minutely. If only because Eddie wants him to. “There’s not going to be anything you’ll miss about Hawkins?” Why does a part of him want to hear Eddie say his name?

He shrugs. “I mean I’ll miss having band practice with my buddies. And the Hellfire Club because I started it, y’know? I’ll always have an ache in my heart towards Wayne and the trailer, the first place that ever felt like home.” Eddie plucks the cigarette from his mouth and rolls it back and forth between his index finger and thumb. Both ends are practically dry. He’s staring at it. Contemplating. Then, he sighs mournfully. “I’ll miss the first day I came here. How everything was small yet meaningful. How after a week of walking around town, the folks at all the stores knew my name and my favorite things. Benny…Back at Benny’s Diner, you know the place, he had my favorite order down. I’ll miss the people nobody knows anymore.”

But then he looks dead on at Steve. And Steve burns with how intense everything has come to be. In the space of reconstruction after what such disaster he’s experienced, Eddie’s eyes and his bared soul are enough to nearly knock him down. Take the wind out of him for the moment.

“I will always miss the people here, Steve,” he rasps. “The ones that mattered.”

Steve swallows. “Makes sense,” he musters. Then, he does something he knows will destroy him, he sits down next to Eddie. Shoulder, hip, the outside of their opposite feet connecting in a warm line. His clothed elbow scratches roughly on Eddie’s bare one. He looks out at the space in front of him. The dirt road that gives the idea of a driveway to Forest Hills. At the dead grass that has since wilted from the winter weather. He notices the imprint of their shoes. Dangerously close together. He sighs.

Eddie’s quiet next to him. No longer fiddling with the cigarette. Still where he sits. Stoic in thought. “You’re the best of them,” he whispers.

Steve hums questioningly.

“You,” Eddie says, again like it should be obvious. “Steve, you’re one of my favorite people. Did you know that?”

“No,” he murmurs. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Gently, Eddie nudges his shoulder. Knocking them loose, but settling back warmly. Like he can’t get enough of them touching. Simply sitting there. Doing nothing. Saying goodbye. “Well, you are. You changed my whole worldview. Taught me how to be a better friend. To rid of a lot of my stupid high school bullshit. You’ve—“ He takes a moment to himself. A silence. Contemplating again. Searching. “—You’ve been there. For me. For everybody. A guiding hand. A voice in the darkness of a nightmare. A fixture. You’re wonderful. An experience that I don’t think I’ll ever—“ His next word is muffled.

Muted by Steve’s mouth on his. A hand to Eddie’s cheek, cupping him. Another to the back of his head, tangling hair around his fingers, pushing them together. He moves his lips slowly. Savoring. How Eddie’s lips are slightly cracked, yet plush soft. The breath that puffs onto the corner of his mouth from Eddie’s nose, apparent in the way their heads are angled to meet each other. He doesn’t explore with his tongue. Not at all. Leaving this to the simple movements of one another, the carnivorous way he tastes Eddie. Placating this goodbye with years worth of emotion and yearning, bottled up in his ribcage, and overflowing like a rolling boil.

Though when he takes a breath, he’s forced instead to gasp. To hiccup. To sob. Eddie carefully grasps him by the cheeks. Pulling him back enough to take a deep, swallowing, consuming breath. His thumbs tickle under Steve’s eyes. Patting at the warm skin. The edges of his fingernails gently press into the soft give of his bottom eyelids.

“Stevie?” He questions lowly. “Sweetheart, you’re…You’re crying.”

He sniffles noisily. His hand crumples in Eddie’s hair, probably tugging at the strands, but it’s not shown on Eddie’s face. Instead of answering, he dives back in. Pressing more firmly. Squishing the tip of his nose in Eddie’s left cheek. Slicking their chins with his spit. Stuttering through gasps, sobbing on his lips, squinting with every soft cry. He can’t even fully see Eddie’s face. Not his eyes, which he fell in love with first. Or the way his cheeks are lighting up red, given by the warmth radiating onto Steve’s own skin. He can’t see and he can’t breathe, but he’d be damned if he stopped right now. His other hand moves down to the side of Eddie’s neck, squeezing as if attempting to choke him out. The rapid thrum of Eddie’s pulse under his thumb. He thinks if he were to die in this kiss, he could be resuscitated by Eddie’s beating heart alone.

While Eddie is enthusiastic to respond, his eyes don’t close in bliss. And he doesn’t move further into Steve’s space. If anything, he’s inching away. Pulling again at Steve’s head. Forcing them apart. “Steve, you don’t want to—“

“You’re everything,” Steve is sobbing out. “Everything to me.” He swallows harshly. His tongue is heavy with saliva and emotion. “You stayed here with me after…After all the bullshit. When Robin left for school. And everybody graduated. When they moved on,” he’s rambling. He should stop. Get himself in line. Try to make sense of every word falling from between his lips. But he can’t grasp them. They flow. They spill. He’s boiling.

“Baby, I’m going, too,” Eddie cooed sadly. “I’m not staying here.”

“I know. I know, Eds, I know,” Steve mutters. He gasps through a hiccup, reigning in his tears, at least slightly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Tell me what, Steve?”

He bounces his eyes back and forth between Eddie’s. Their roundness. And the dark encompassing color to them. How they pull him in like black holes. He could probably destroy Steve, especially with what is said next.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve confesses. “I’ve been in love with you,” he reiterates, voice cracking and wet and too thick. “For years, Eds.”

The hands on his cheeks slither down to his shoulders. For a moment, his head is heavy enough to careen him to the side. His head resting on the closed back door. He looks on with half-lidded eyes and a shiver against his spine. Eddie’s looking low at Steve’s chest, where his heart is. He squeezes the sweater material under his hands.

He swallows heavily in the stilled silence. Whispers, “I’m flattered, Steve—“ And Steve straightens back up, flailing a little to get out of this hold. To make his escape. To just leave when he isn’t wanted. But Eddie holds to him harshly. Keeping him still. “—I really am. But what you said doesn’t change my mind. I’m leaving.”

“Tell me, then,” Steve shoots. His voice flat. Lifeless.

“Tell you…”

“That you love me, too. Please tell me that.”

Eddie sighs again. His hands pressing harder on Steve’s shoulders. If it’s not his eyes, then Steve will gladly be ruined by Eddie’s hands. “Steve. That’s not a good idea.” He states it like it’s factual.

To hell with that.

“Then lie to me,” Steve pleads. “You don’t have to mean it. Just tell me—“

“I don’t want to lie to you, Steve. And besides, I’d only be lying to myself if I said it like that,” Eddie says. He moves his left palm up to Steve’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Tickling it down to where it touches the tops of his shoulders. Moves back up and dully scratches at his scalp. “I do love you, Steve. I do. I love you with every muscle in my body and every freckle on my skin. But…Sweetheart, you’re staying here. I’ll be elsewhere. And I know how you are in relationships. You like being near. You like being able to touch and cherish and hold. You like waking up next to them. You like having a person with you.”

Sometimes knowing Eddie Munson means being known back. And Steve should’ve realized that. He’s been privy to it thousands of times over the last five years. He’s been pulled from his darkest thoughts because of Eddie’s perceptive nature. He’s been taken care of in a lot of aspects. Distracted when he’s bored. Cherished when he’s lack luster.

He moves his own hands down to his lap. Folding them together so he doesn’t do something more stupid than what he’s already done. Something like hold on and never let go. Because Eddie isn’t his. And sure. Maybe they do love each other. Madly. Deeply. Infatuated practically. But Eddie’s right. He’s right and Steve hates that.

“You’re everything to me,” Steve murmurs. “I can’t just let you leave.”

Eddie sighs. A grievance. “Then we’re at a stalemate, baby. I can’t stay.”

“Then take me with you,” Steve says back. Quick as a bullet. Even his words surprise him. He startles back slightly. But his eyes remain on Eddie’s.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Before Eddie blinks. Harshly. Tilting his head to the side. “Are you…You’re not just saying that, right? Do you actually want to leave? Because you didn’t want to before.”

Steve nods. “What’s left for me here anyway, right? I can just go to my house, pack my clothes, the few actual things I have, and we can go.”

This time, it’s Eddie who devours. Swooping in. Sucking on Steve’s lips. Nibbling. Holding onto him as to never let him go again. He barely moves to breathe. But when he does, it’s to whisper, “I would’ve loved you still anyway.”

“Hm?”

“If you didn’t want to come with. I still would’ve loved you. I would wait forever.”

“Well. I don’t want to keep you waiting. Help me pack?”

Eddie’s hands drift to his. He holds. Their fingers tangled. “As long as you won’t regret doing this.” His thumb is warm on the back of Steve’s left hand. It’s kind of funny. How big and moving Eddie seems to always be. Though, in this moment, every ounce of him is dedicated to devotion. To soft caresses and softer words.

Steve gives him a small smile. “The only thing I regret is not telling you that I love you sooner. Come on, Eds.” He tugs on their conjoined hands. “My life starts with you.”

💕—————💕 I thought about them not getting together. I thought about writing it so that Steve's love was unrequited. But I spared you. For today. Maybe not next time. We'll see.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfiction #angst and hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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orcasoul · 8 months

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Oh Baby!

Summery: Pedro Pascal and reader are in a relationship. Pedro's career is sky rocketing and reader also has a demanding job. Throw in an unexpected pregnancy and well...... shit!

Warnings: Swearing, Pedro being and not being an asshole (you'll see). Use of Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

Gripping the edges of the bathroom sink, you take slow, deep breaths to steady your breathing, while your mind is going into overdrive. Your chest feels tight and your legs are like jelly. Slowly you raise your head to stare at you reflection in the mirror. You don't even feel like yourself right now, almost like you're having an out of body experience. Reality suddenly feels foreign to you, like you're trapped in a surreal dream. But this is no dream. It's real, oh it's definitely real. The two red lines on the four pregnancy tests sitting on the under sink cabinet can attest to that! "Shit," you mutter quietly, still looking at yourself in disbelief. "This can't be happening." It wasn't supposed to happen . You'd been on the pill for two years and always used extra protection if you had antibiotics. You were always so careful, but careful obviously wasn't careful enough. How would you even begin to tell Pedro that you're carrying his baby? How would he react? Your mind keeps replaying one specific interview of his you'd seen. "I don't even have kids. And I'm not gonna!" His words exactly.

He'd mentioned to you once that his hectic work schedule doesn't allow time for kids, and honestly it wasn't high on your priority list either. Your job as an editor is very demanding and sometimes trickles into your home life. Both you and Pedro had grown accustom the stresses and scarifies you've both had to make over the past couple of years when it comes to your jobs, but you'd both made it work and were happy and comfortable together. But adding a baby into the mix just seemed impossible. You try to remember your last period but you'd been so busy with work lately that you hadn't even noticed you'd missed..... shit, two! Two periods. It was only the past few days of constant queasiness and dizzy spells that led you to suspect what you'd hoped wouldn't be true. But here you are, the "truth" staring right back at you. "Oh my god," you whimpered while rubbing your hands over your face, "Fuck, what now?!"

You try your best to keep it together but you can't contain the rush of different emotions that are encompassing you at this moment and the tears begin to fall. It's exhausting trying to process everything you're feeling; fear and uncertainty but also a gravitation and protectiveness you've never felt before. This baby was certainly not planned and you couldn't deny that you wished the tests were negative, but knowing that it's definitely there has awakened an instinct in you that has always been present but dormant, just waiting to be unleashed. How is it possible to want and not want it at the same time? Will Pedro want it? Will he be mad? Pedro had been away for two weeks filming for a new advert and had a photo shoot straight after so he'd be away for another two weeks, at least. You both video called each other every day. You'd always looked forward to it but the thought of today's impending call left your stomach in knots! There was no way you could tell him something so life changing over the phone. You'd just have to keep it yourself until he gets home and try your best to act normal when talking to him.

It turns out pretending nothing had changed wasn't that difficult for the next week. Maybe it was because of the distance and the fact that you could make up an excuse to end the call when your anxiety began to creep in. But in one week's time he'd be home and you know it'll be harder to act nonchalant around him, especially now that your lower belly has started to swell slightly. Slight enough that you could blame it on junk food if he noticed, but it's only going to get bigger. After a long day at work, you finally get to relax for the evening, settling down to watch one of your favourite shows. Leaning back into the settee you found yourself gently smoothing your palm over the curve of your abdomen, wondering just how much would change in the coming months and how Pedro would take the news. You still struggled to get your head around it yourself but now that you've had time to think, you know there's no way you'd get rid of it, no matter what happened. Well, I have one more week to figure out how I'm going to tell him, you ruminate..... or so you thought.

"Y/N I'm home." Pedro called out as the front door slammed shut. You shot up off the settee faster than a rocket as Pedro walked into the living room with a wide grin. You stood frozen to the spot as he dropped his bags and rushed over to you, picking you up in a tight hug. With the fervour of a man touch starved he kissed you as if he hadn't kissed you in years, deep and sultry. You instantly dissolve into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Wow," you whispered breathlessly as you pull away to look into his eyes. "Missed me that much, huh?" You teasingly ask, trying to sound as though your heart isn't beating a million miles an hour. "What do you think?" he relied with a smirk, setting you back down. "How are you home so soon?" You hope your question did come across the wrong way. Of course you're thrilled that he's home. You always loved it when he returned home earlier than expected, and it happened so rarely that usually you'd be on cloud nine, but this one time you wished you had that week. A week where you could prepare for every eventuality. "We were ahead of schedule for once. I thought I'd surprise you instead of calling ahead." Your silent stare made Pedro chuckle, his soft eyes creasing at the corners. "That surprised, are you?"

You suddenly realise how off your reaction must seem to him and quickly collect yourself before he can think any more of it. "I just wasn't expecting you so soon. Great surprise though!" you smile genuinely as you tip toe to kiss the end of his nose. "I really missed you. How was it?" "Oh you know, early mornings, late nights, hours of hair and make up, retake after retake, blah blah blah....," Pedro trailed off while waving his hand in the air dismissively. "How have you been sweetheart?" He asked while stroking down the curve of your back. I've missed you like hell." "Yeah I've.... I've been fine. Works been fine." Your voice ever so slightly, nervously shook at his question, making you cringe inwardly but luckily he didn't seem to notice your change in tone. "Well, you go unpack and I'll make us something to eat," you offered, trying to keep your composure, even though you felt like a deer caught in headlights. As Pedro heads to the bedroom to unpack you hurry into the kitchen and pour a glass of water to quell your nerves. Not quite the same effect as alcohol, you huff inwardly.

You get to work preparing Chilean Avocado sandwiches, as it's one of Pedro's favourite foods. But after only a few seconds you are hit with a strong bought of nausea from the smell and lunge towards the sink, making it there just in time. After violently retching up what not only felt like the contents of your stomach, but also every organ in your body into the sink you are startled by a warm and gentle hand rubbing your back. "You okay, baby?" "Oh fuck!" You turn swiftly, wiping your mouth with a tea towel. "Uh... yeah... must be a virus or something. It's going around. My sister's kids had it last week." You hated lying to Pedro. Well, it was half a lie; Your nieces and nephew did have a bug last week but you know that this is definitely not a virus. Pedro looked at you with a creased brow, clearly concerned. "Why don't you go lie down? I'll take care of this," he suggested, looking over at the ingredients on the kitchen counter. When he realised you were making his one of his favourite's he turned to you with an adoring smile.

"Aww, you were making my favourite sandwich, thank you darling." "Anything for you, baby," you lovingly reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I think I will go and lie down for a bit." you concede. "A bit" actually lasted until the next morning. Your body felt heavy and exhausted as you dragged yourself out of bed for work. The next three days were hard going. The morning sickness began each morning from the moment you woke up, getting stronger every day. Pedro became more and more worried asking, no begging you to call in sick for work. But each day you'd insisted you didn't feel that bad. The truth was you felt like shit! The unabating nausea and fatigue left you feeling on edge, knowing you can't keep this a secret for much longer. He's going to figure it out any day now or at least suspect, your anxious mind keeps telling you. By the evening of the third day Pedro couldn't take the worry anymore. "You've been ill for three days Y/N," he observed, uneasily, while sitting beside you on the bed, his hand caressing your cheek. "If you're no better in the morning you have to see the doctor." His face betrayed the apprehension he's feeling. "Ped, no I'm fine-" "You're not fine and you're starting to worry me." He cut you off in an urgent but not angry tone. "I'll drag you there if I have to." "Okay, Okay. I'll go," you groggily reply with a small smile. Relieved, Pedro leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Get some sleep baby. I'll check on you in a bit."

And with that he walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar. You closed you eyes and sighed. You knew this time would come. The time when you'd have to spill the beans, as they say. You weren't entirely ready for it but you have no choice now. You know he'll make you go to the doctor tomorrow and you can't use work as an excuse to worm your way out of it since it's one of your days off. You have to tell him tomorrow. The next hour was spent pondering what you would say to him and all the different ways he might react. Eventually, exhausted both physically and mentally you drift off into an uneasy sleep.

******

"You're what?!" Pedro's voice reached a pitch you didn't realise he was capable of. His earthy brown eyes were as wide as saucers and his jaw hung slack. Your eyes dart to your feet as you feel your cheeks burn and your fingers begin to tap the sides of your hips in anticipation. "I'm.... pregnant," you repeated, voice shaking. "I don't know what happened. The pill has never failed in the past-" "We'll it fucking has now, hasn't it!" He shot you a choleric look. "Or maybe you just weren't careful." "Excuse me?!" You snapped back with furrowed brows. "Don't you dare blame this on me. I never missed one pill and we always used extra protection when needed. You know that!" "I don't know anything right now!" Pedro shouted through his hands which were now rubbing his face in exasperation. "Well I didn't make this baby all by myself so don't put this all on me!" Hot tears begin to cascade down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. "I just.... FUCK!" Pedro cried out, booting one of the kitchen stools, making you jump.

"We can't do this. I can't do this." "Well it's too late now," you huff at him with your arms folded across your chest. "Not if we don't want it to be," he stated flatly. Your eyes widened and your heart clenched at his cold demeanour, causing you to instinctively place your hands across the small swell of your belly in protection. "I'm not getting rid of it Ped. I.... I can't," you exclaimed. "Y/N," Pedro sighed, shaking his head "This would change our lives completely. Neither one of us has the time for such a huge commitment and-" "I don't care," you cut him off sharply, fixing him with daggers. "I'm not getting rid of it. If it means I have to work part time then it's something I'm prepared to do." Pedro threw his head back to look at the ceiling, seemingly annoyed at your obstinate determination. You continue, "Weather we like it or not this is happening and we need -" "No it's not." He quickly stated, with finality. You stare at him dumbfounded. "What?!" "I'm not doing this. If you want to keep it you'll have to do it alone. I never wanted this and you know it." He returned your own words to you with clear contempt.

You open your mouth to say something, anything but words have now failed you. Your brain is unable to form a coherent sentence as the realisation of his words hit you like a punch to your gut. You feel numb as your heart shatters piercing your soul. He can't mean it! He's just upset, you try to rationalise internally, still to shocked to speak. Pedro turned away from you, grabbed his car keys off the kitchen island and stormed to the front door. "Make sure you're gone before I get back," he demanded in an emotionless tone. Seeing him walk away from you, immediately loosened your frozen tongue. "Baby wait!" you sobbed after him as he slammed the door shut without a backward glance. You instantly drop to your knees on the cold kitchen tiles, embracing yourself as your grief becomes unbearable. Your head begins to spin as you try to suck in deep breaths. It's no use. The despair is now consuming you, seeping into every crevice of your being, gripping you and tearing you apart. "Y/N?" You continue to sob. "Y/N?!" The familiar voice sounds muffled through your tormented cries and you can feel phantom hands gently shaking your shoulders. "Y/N?! Baby wake up, wake up. Look at me!"

You gasp as your eyes snap open. You are met with concerned caramel eyes, glowing in the dim lamp light. Pedro was leaning over your body, holding onto both of your shoulders. "It's okay. It was just a bad dream," Pedro soothed you while cupping your cheek. The feel of his warm skin against yours brought a sense of calm to your confused and distressed state, helping you to catch your breath. He sat up, slowly pulling you up with him. "Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me. What the hell happened?" he asked nervously as he wiped away a mixture of cold sweat and tears that had soaked your face. "I...," your voice gave out as you realised it was nothing more than a nightmare and the man you love is right here beside you. "I... can't remember." Your voice didn't sound convincing at all, and Pedro's raised eyebrow told you that he wasn't convinced either. "You're pretty shaken up sweetheart. You can tell me." "It's just a blur now." You choke out, wrapping an arm around his broad, tanned chest and leaning into his shoulder. "Okay," Pedro replied, still sounding unsure. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you snuggle into his neck as you both lay back down. You wrap your arm and legs around him like a baby koala, desperate for some comfort and reassurance that he indeed hasn't left you. "I've got you," he whispered, while holding you firmly and stroking your hair. "Let's go back to sleep."

*****

The sunlight spills in as the curtains lazily blow due to the partially open window. Your eyelids are heavy from the lack of sleep. Groaning you turn to the bedside table to check the time. 11:30am. "Shit," you mumble while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You never sleep this late. You throw the quilt off and sit up slowly, the nausea returning as you do. Downstairs you can hear Pedro in the kitchen. "Okay, let's get this over with," you sigh, knowing you can no longer avoid the inevitable. As you approach the kitchen you stop and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed. Pedro's back is to you and you take the opportunity to just watch him, appreciate him and contemplate just how much you love him. A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you just absorb the mere presence of him. But as soon as the smile appears it evaporates as the nausea increases momentarily, pulling you back to the here and now, reminding you of what you must do. In a few minutes everything will drastically change for the both of you.

Images from last night's dream flash before you, making your heart race slightly and your palms sweaty. A part of you knows deep down that Pedro would never treat you so cruelly and walk out on you, but it would be a lie to say the dream didn't shake you and make you feel somewhat apprehensive at this moment. "Hey darling," Pedro smiles as he turns to see you idling in the doorway. "How long have you been standing there?" "Not long," you shrug with a wan smile. He set his coffee mug on the counter and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. In return you run your hands up his arms, gently holding onto his triceps. "How are you feeling?" He asks with a creased brow. "Okay." An obvious lie. "Why didn't you wake me?" "Figured you needed some extra time since you didn't sleep much last night. I felt you toss and turn all night long." Worry and unease laced his voice. A few moments of silence pass before you clear your throat. "Baby, can we talk?" "About what?" he enquires with trepidation. "Just come with me," you exhale softly as you lead him by his hand into the living room to sit next to you on the settee.

With a deep breath you turn to face him, and feel your heartbeat quicken while twitching your fingers in your lap. A nervous habit of your that Pedro knows all to well. He places his soft palm over your fumbling hands to calm you. "You're making me nervous Y/N. Please just tell me what's wrong," he all but begs you. "I uh... I don't know how else to say this so I'll just say it..... I'm pregnant." Shock adorns Pedro's features as his hand slips off of yours. The cold feeling of emptiness where his warm hand had just been resting caused your breath to catch in your chest. You couldn't hold his gaze any longer and dropped your head, anxiety threatening to consume you. You wait with a sense of dread for his possibly angry or fearful reaction but are caught off guard when he delicately takes both of your hands in his, causing you to look up at him in anticipation. "Are you sure?" He whispers, his voice shaking slightly. "Yes," you nod. "I took four tests...all positive. I'm so sorry...." You began to ramble, "I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't know how it did. I know you never wanted-" "Hey, hey shhhh.... take a breath." Pedro cooed as he pulled you into his chest, cupping the back of your head with one hand and smoothing up and down your back with the other.

You begin to weep desperately as the past weeks' tension and worry finally break through the mental and emotional dam you had built within. "I'm sorry," you wail into his shoulder, chest shuddering as you try to regain some semblance of self control. Pedro cradles both of your cheeks in his hands and pulls you upright to look into your weary eyes. "Why are you apologising? Last time I checked it takes two to make a baby. You are no more responsible for this than I am, so please stop saying you're sorry." Your breaths become less laboured as his thumbs smooth small circles over your cheeks, the action soothing and reassuring. "It's just.... I know you never wanted kids..." You begin in a slightly exhausted tone. "I just don't know what else to say except.... I'm sorry." Pedro takes a a deep breath. "It's true I've never seen myself becoming a dad, and I never would have purposely had a baby," you look down and nod in understanding, feeling guilty for putting him in this situation. "But..." He tilt's your chin up to make eye contact with you again. "If it was going to happen, I'd only want it to happen with you."

The sincerity of his words took you by surprise. "Really?" You ask astonished. "Really." he assures you. "Is this why you've been acting so strange and been so sick lately?" You gulp and nod once. "How long have you known?" "A couple of weeks," you confess quietly. "And you kept it to yourself all this time?" It was more of a statement than a question. "You should have told me straight away. You never should have had to go through this alone," Pedro said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I was scared" You admit somewhat timidly. "I was scared of what this would mean for us. I was scared because I want to keep it." Pedro smiled softly. "You know I'll support you no matter what, right?" "I know." A relieved smile made it way onto your face. "Was what happened last night anything to do with this?" Pedro questioned while reaching for your hand. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter now." You try to shrug the question off. "Tell me. I wanna know." "You.... you got angry," you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "You blamed me, told me I'd have to do this alone and... you left."

Pedro's shoulders slumped as you finished speaking. "You didn't think I'd actually do something like that, did you?" The hurt in his voice was clear and it broke your heart. "No! no of course not," you cut in quickly. It wasn't a lie. You know what kind of man Pedro is and that he'd never hurt you like that. "I guess it was just all the stress and worry coming out in that dream. I know you and I know you love me. I know you'd never do anything like that." His face visibly relaxed hearing you confirm what he already knew to be true. "I do love you, baby. I know this is a huge change but we'll make it work. I promise." "I just don't want you to ever resent me or feel trapped-" "Shhhh..." he gently interrupted. "I could never feel that way, okay?" His voice left no room for any doubt. "I love you so much," you exclaimed, eyes beginning to fill again, but this time from relief and happiness. "I love you too, darling," Pedro whispered as he pressed his lips to yours. After several seconds he pulls away to look down at your belly, noticing the tiny bump through your pyjama top for the first time. "Can I?" He asks almost shyly. "You don't ever need to ask," you laugh with adoration. You take his hand and gently place it over the swell of your belly, watching as his eyes widen in amazement. "Wow!" He breathes out in awe. You both look at each other, eyes conveying the love you have for one another and now for this little one. The stress that had plagued you for the past two weeks began to dissipate like fog being burned away by the sun. The uncertainty of such a life altering future hung in the air but you know that together you can both handle whatever that future brings.

Oh Mama A Continuation

#pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

Note

Can I request "i’m staying. end of discussion. you gotta learn to let people take care of you." with Jake Lockley? It can be naughty or nice, gender neutral or female reader. Please and thank you!

Of course! Thank you so, so much for the request ❤️ ilysm! I hope this is okay!

(Also I don't know what's wrong with me, I seem to be writing all the unwell fics at the moment.)

I'm Staying

Jake Lockley X GN!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: mirgraines, typos, Jake calls reader 'honey' (I personally see this as a gender neutral term, but I just wanted to mention it in case it has any negative connections for anyone.) Please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1098

_______________________________________

It was obvious he was in pain. More than obvious. You’d have to be practically non corporeal to not see it.

Not that Jake would tell you. Not that he would ever admit it.

He handled physical pain well, or at least quietly. Used to torn tissue and internal bleeding long before they met Khonshu.

It had become a habit to front when the body was in severe enough discomfort, pushing Steven and Marc back so that they didn’t have to feel it.

That was why both of them had never told you that they suffered from migraines, because they didn’t. Jake suffered for them.

You watched him move around the kitchen, trying to get himself something to drink. The harsh afternoon sun was streaming through the window, cutting like glass into his skull. He kept pausing, moving out of the light and screwing up his eyes. Trying his best to navigate the space with his eyes closed or his hand shielding them from the sun.

“Jake,” you started, trying to keep your voice quiet as you could but loud enough so that he could hear you. It wasn’t the first time in the last twenty minutes you had tried to talk to him.

“Honey, I’m fine.” He stressed the last word. Putting an edge on it that you knew what meant to be playful, but just came across as irritated. “Fine.”

If he repeated it enough times you would believe it. If he repeated it enough times he would be.

He took a glass from the cupboard and put it on the counter. The sound of it, the smallest clink as it landed was horrendous. A wave of nausea ran through him as pain seared along his temple, pulling at his skin like claws scraping across his skull.

“Jake-”

“You go, I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing your friends all week. You’ll be late if you don’t go now.” His voice was weak, a waver in it as he gripped the countertop, eyes closed. He tried, and failed to will off the nausea, the slight distortion in the corner of his sight that was warping reality inwards. He just needed some tablets. Then to try to sleep holding the bin praying he wouldn’t throw the pain relief right up again.

You’d had enough. You couldn’t stand seeing him like this.

He didn’t hear you move closer to him, too preoccupied with the sound of his heart and blood rushing through his ears.

“Jake Lockley.” You kept your voice quiet but lowered it, trying your utmost best at a Khonshu impression.

Jake paused, and turned his head towards you, squinting.

“I’m not going out, not with you like this.” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to coax him to lean on you for support.

“Hone-”

"I'm staying. End of discussion. You gotta learn to let people take care of you."

Jake groaned, a low rumble of a sound. But he shifted back and leat his head on your shoulder, keeping his eyes closed.

You wrapped your arms around him, just holding for a minute as he breathed heavily through the pain.

“Was that a Khonshu impression?” He mumbled against your neck. You could hear the small smile in his voice.

“Did you like it?”

“It’s disturbingly accurate. How did you?...” He railed off as another fresh wave of agony washed over him.

“Steven,” you whispered, pressing a light kiss to his head. “He does an excellent impersonation of ‘that old bird’.”

Jake snorted and then winced.

“Sorry,” you kissed his forehead again. “I shouldn’t be making you laugh.”

He shook his head lightly against you and then breathed heavily again. “So it’s an impression of Steven’s impression.”

“Yes it is.” You rubbed his back in soothing circles as he relaxed more into your arms.

“Good, for a minute I was…”

“Did you think I had heard him.”

Jake nodded weakly.

You leaned close to his ear and whispered. “Luckily I haven’t had the displeasure.”

Jake laughed again before scowling in distress.

“Okay, come on,” you slowly guided him to bed. “I know you’re in a bad way because you never laugh this much at my stupid comments.”

“That’s not true.”

You tutted, but said nothing as you helped him lay down. Pressing a light kiss to his temple before you went back to the kitchen to fetch some water and painkillers. You were in half a mind to try to find something to use as a makeshift curtain over the kitchen window. But the light from there didn’t reach the bed and you didn’t want to make too much noise.

There was a moment when you walked back to him that you thought he might have fallen asleep, curled up on himself and clutching a pillow to his chest.

“You could go out now, you know.” He muttered.

“I’m staying, stupid. Here.” You held out the water and tablets.

“That’s not very nice,” he teased. “Calling me names, I’m sick.” He took the tablets and water, swallowing quickly.

“Hmmm.” You tried to bite back your smile as you put the half full glass on the side table, using your pinky finger underneath the bottom to cushion the sound it made. “Do you need anything else?”

“You can still make it.” He mumbled. There was a slight pinch to his features that was easy to miss. A well covered distress. He wanted you to stay.

“Well I’m not going to, I’ve already messaged.” You climbed into bed next to him, taking great care not to rock the bed or jostle him too much.

Jake let out a soft sound, a low wine of content as you shifted close and wrapped your arms around him; hugging him tightly, but not too tight, as the big spoon.

The steady rise and fall of his chest was soothing and even thought it was only early afternoon you found sleep starting to call to you.

You had almost nodded off when Jake spoke suddenly, his voice heavy and far away.

“I know what would help.”

“What?” You answered quickly, suddenly feeling very awake and ready to do whatever you could to make him feel better.

“Well, I’ve heard that coming really helps with a headache so…” The grin in his voice was undeniable.

You laughed, gently butting your forehead against his back. “That’s not for migraines Jake.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try?”

“With our luck you’ll get motion sick.”

He chuckled and sleepily squeezed your hand. “I guess you’re right.” There was a pause before he spoke again. “Maybe later?”

You weren't sure whose giggles were louder, yours or his.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @welcometostayingawake @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @mbakubabe

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#jake lockley #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #jake lockley x gender neutral reader #x you #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn!reader #moon knight #moon knight mcu #moon knight x reader #moon knight x gender neutral reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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zerokrox-blog · 1 year

Text

Dialogue Prompt #34 “Who cares? Who cares? I care!”

on ao3

Wayne Munson was not an easily angered man. Nor was he someone who tended to lose his temper much, but right now watching his nephew’s boyfriend he wanted to literally strangle someone.

Steve Harrington was not nor had he ever been Wayne’s favorite person, but seeing how in love and happy he was with Eddie and vice versa, the two men bonded. They’d watch sports together, or go to museums together and sometimes even cook and bake together.

In Steve, Wayne found a young man who adored his nephew dearly, who took joy in making his boy happy. The two of them watched sports together and screamed at the shitty TV in the new Munson trailer (a peace offering from the government) and Wayne found it invigorating. The two of them walked together as they both enjoyed hiking and jogging.

But right now Wayne watched Steve’s face fall, his excited rambling stumbling into nothing.

He wasn’t sure what had happened, he had gotten home to Steve excitedly pacing around their trailer holding a letter in his hand as he reread it over and over, mumbling quietly to himself. He had looked up and open seeing Wayne had come nearly running over and in an eager tone started talking.

Wayne! Welcome back! How was work? I know you just got home, but look!” he shoved the paper in his hand at Wayne, movements wild and uncoordinated.

Wayne took the paper and started to read the cover when he was interrupted by Steve’s breathless, “I got accepted into the program at Indiana Tech! I am starting in September! I’m taking the psychology course, it’s their guidance counselor program! I haven’t told anyone yet because the letter just came. They also have a specialty program which I am-” Steve paused to breathe and seemingly realized who he was rambling to. He flushed a deep red and all the excitement fled from his body, his posture shifted inward and Wayne hated it. He waited for Steve to continue but the boy simply took the letter from Wayne and awkwardly coughed, “sorry that was a bit much. Dinner is in the oven warming-”

Wayne reached out for him and put a careful hand on his shoulder, “I didn’t know you applied, son. But tell me about it. What are the other courses in the program? What specialty are you looking into taking? How long is the program?”

He paused, voice gently with the hint of fond excitement.

But Steve shuffled his feet and mumbled, “why? I’m not Eddie, you don’t have to fake it. It’s ok. I forgot that people wouldn’t care about this.”

“Son, look at me.” Wayne waited until Steve looked directly at him, “I care. You’re my boy as much as Eddie. And I care so much about you. I am so proud of you. Not because of anything other than I know you worked hard for this and you should be proud of yourself.”

Steve scoffed to hide the tears, but Wayne knew his boy, Steve wasn’t used to people caring about his things. Wayne and Eddie had already made their silent promises to ensure that Steve would never doubt for even a second that they’d be proud of him.

And when Eddie came home Wayne and Steve told him the good news, Wayne and Eddie planned a small party to congratulate him.

Years later at the graduation ceremony for Steve’s class, Wayne and Eddie watched with delight, as the person everyone was sure couldn’t succeed in school got his diploma and certification letter. They’d cheer the loudest, louder than Robin and the kids. Steve would turn bright red and flush in pleasure at the sight of his not yet legal father-in-law, and his husband (also not legal yet but Eddie didn’t do legal anyway so who cares? Not Steve that’s for sure). He would discover his people who did care about him.

#stranger things #stranger things ficlet #dialogue prompt #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #wayne and steve bonding #zerowrites

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wyn-n-tonic · 2 years

Text

You All Over Me

Word Count: 2k+ Pairing: Bob Floyd/f!reader Warnings: It's mature but not explicit. Def unprotected PiV. Author's Note: I'm not the biggest fan of reading xreader fic anymore for various reasons but when you're beloved @green-socks requests some, you simply have to give in. No proofreading, we die like men.

Big.

God, you forget just how big he is when he’s gone.

Six feet, broad shoulders and thick arms. You’re watching him unpack across the room, capable hands working to separate piles of clothes, folding the clean and throwing the dirty into the hamper to the side of the dresser.

The sleeves of his t-shirt tighten around his bicep as he picks the pile of folded shirts up and bends down to quietly pull the drawer open. His glasses are off, hair wet and unkempt, long in the way that suggests he missed a chance to clean up at least the back and sides before heading to the airport.

“You’re home early.”

He looks over to you, big eyes reflecting the morning light that comes in through the window, and smiles. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t supposed to come get you until later.”

“I know, baby,” he says, dropping the stack of clothing into the drawer before quietly rolling it closed. “You were but”—he shrugs—“they said I could have an earlier flight so I took it.”

“Why didn’t the dogs go crazy?”

“They did,” he says, turning fully to you. “Then they realized it was daddy and Rocco got so excited that he peed on the floor. I cleaned it and showered, was hoping to get laundry done before crawling in next to you.”

“Laundry can wait, come here.” You pat the space beside you as you sit up, comforter slipping down your chest as you do.

Bob blows out a breath, thumb scratching across his eyebrow. He looks you up and down, eyes lingering on the low neckline of your tank top. “You know that’s a bad idea,” he says. “I get in that bed and nothing will get done for days. Don’t you want breakfast?”

“Don't you?” You ask him.

He reaches down and adjusts himself over his boxers. “I think getting some actual protein in our bodies would be important. Like I said, I get in that bed and nothing will get done for days.”

Big, even in the way he talks. It’s hard to believe the shit he says he gets, how he was once described as the runt of the litter or the baby on board.

“Besides, I saw the outfit you had picked out to pick me up in. Go get ready.” He nods towards the bathroom. “I know you’ve missed teasing me in public.”

He pushes you through the door, broad body blocking you in as the latch gives and it swings inward. His arm is latched around your waist, hand on across your lower belly, fingertips squeezing into your hip. “I knew you missed teasing me, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whisper back to him, “I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it.”

He guides you back to the bedroom and sinks to his knees in front of you when you sit. “I do like it,” he says. “I like it very much.”

Bob presses his lips into the inside of one knee, eyes angled upwards to yours and then switches to the other side before kissing down, gentle hand wrapped around your ankle as he guides your leg upwards.

Deft fingers make quick work of the straps of your sandals, both quickly thrown over his shoulder. “I missed these legs,” he says, another kiss to your calf as he stands. “Give me your hands.”

When he pulls you up, he holds you to him, gentler than before with his face tucked into the crook of your neck. Besides the soft touches and very hard eye-fucking that was exchanged in the diner, the parking lot, and the driveway, this is the first time I’ve held him since just before the last time he left.

He takes in a deep breath and pulls away, both hands raising to cradle your face. “I wish I could bottle how you smell.”

“I gave you some of my perfume, baby boy.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “It's not the same. You smell like the perfume, sure. But you also have this combination of hair products, soap, lotion, your sweat. All these sweet, layered scents. What you gave me doesn’t do you justice.”

You want to be offended but he’s right, the bottle of cologne you’ve used almost to the last drop failing in comparison to him.

“You know what else I missed, baby?” He asks, hands snaking back around your body as he leans over you, lips centimeters from your own. “I missed the smell of your sex,” he whispers. “God, you turn me into an animal. I can smell how bad you’ve wanted me all day.”

The waves of his hair flow freely between your fingers as you pull him towards you, no gel helping him adhere to regulation. His mouth is warm, opening easily for you, and you can hear the zipper of your dress coming undone.

“Step out of this,” he says, pulling your arms down from around his neck.

A low whistle escapes him when you do, straps falling down until the entire garment does, only your panties left. He scans your body, holds you at arms length as his eyes categorize every inch of skin he sees.

“I don’t even know what I want to do first.” He shakes his head, as if trying to knock his thoughts loose and together. “Where I want to touch you first.”

“You seem kind of overwhelmed,” you tell him, feeling it as well in the way his eyes dart across your bare skin. “What if you didn’t focus on where to touch me? Or where I should touch you. Just take your clothes off and hold me, the rest will follow, baby.”

He nods, raising his arms and pulling the shirt over his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Think your tits might be bigger than mine,” you say. “Bagman got you hitting the racks then?”

His pants go next, both layers, leaving him stark naked in front of me.

“I’m gonna need you to say something,” he says, one hand hanging down to cover himself while the other wraps around his body to hold his arm in place. “You can’t just keep staring at me and saying nothing.”

“Isn’t that what you do to me?”

He pushes you down onto the bed, following the movements to lean over your body, hand on your hip with his nose and lips dragging down between your breasts and to your bellybutton as you push yourself back towards the headboard.

“We should make it even,” he says, fingers hooking into the elastic waistline of your panties and pulling them down. “That’s only fair, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

It’s barely nine o’clock in the morning, birds and cars and life making noise outside the windows. It all fades to nothing when you look at him and all of his hunger pulsing through his body. You pull your legs up, tucking them near your bottom, and shiver.

“Don't tell me you got shy on me, baby,” he says. “That's my job, remember?”

“You're the shy one? Maybe to everybody else but that’s not the role you play in here, Bobby.”

He pulls himself up next to you, hand hovering above your knee as he props himself up with his other arm. “It makes me so hard when you call me Bobby.”

“I can feel that.”

Lips quirk up against yours, calloused hand grabbing hard to your knee to pull your legs apart.

“I thought you didn’t know what you wanted to do first.”

“I don’t.”

You lay your palm on the back of his hand. “I love your hands,” you tell him, guiding him down the length of your inner thigh. “I don’t think there’s any wrong way you could ever touch me, I’ll love it all.”

Lips press into yours again, light and curious, like he’s forgotten how to do it—how you like it.

“I missed the way you pulse for me,” he says, cupping your mound. “My slicked up hand could never.”

He takes your laughter in with his own, giggles traded back and forth between kisses until your breath is cut off completely. Trapped somewhere in your chest on a sharp intake as two long fingers press into your entrance.

“I think I lied, actually,” he says. “I know exactly what I want to do to you.”

“See? It’s all horseshit,” you tell him, melting down into the pillows. “You’re not shy at all. You’re just an ass.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady.”

“Yes, lieutenant.”

He breaks again, laughter pressed into your cheek, your jaw, your neck, as he adds another finger. “You keep squeezing me like this and I’ll lose circulation in my fingers.”

“Th-that’s a really silly thing to say when you just added the third one.” You shake your head as best you can, fingers carding through his hair. “You didn’t have to do that, Bobby.”

He shifts his body weight, loosing his free hand to rest on top of your head. He drags his thumb across your hairline and smiles down at you. “You're the one who likes to talk about how big I am, sweetheart. I thought after so long apart, it might be best to get you used to it again.”

“If anybody else knew how cocky you are, they most certainly wouldn’t give you shit.”

He hooks his leg around yours, spreading you out as he pulls himself from you and up the seam of your sex. “No, they would,” he drawls out a half-midwestern, half-wherever accent. “Just a different kind.” He smooths your hair down, one thumb pressing against the knot pulled tight between your eyebrows and the other pressing against your clit—both drawing tight circles. “You know I’m not a fighter, baby. “You know, and everybody else does too, that I’m the one who calls the shots up there either way.”

“I want you,” you tell him, fingertips brushing down the length of his nose. “I want you and then I want to fall asleep next to you and then I want you again. And again. And again.”

He shifts himself again, making soft mouth sounds into your ear as he climbs over you. “You did put on muscle,” you say. “I thought you looked different but I couldn’t tell. I hate when I don’t remember you.”

“Shh, baby.” He pushes himself into the hilt, a soft groan loosing from his chest as he fully seats himself inside of you. “I won’t risk you forgetting again for a while, I promise.”

“That’s a big promise, Bobby.”

He hums an agreement into your neck as he builds pace, hands gripping tight around your wrists, heart beating heavy against your chest. The day and the night and lack of sleep, the size of the emotion he carries for you, and you for him, ebb freely between your bodies. Half sleep faulters the rhythm he pushes into you and then a shock like energy hits you both and you start again—always building and building and building.

Your body tightens against his, his soft praise in your ear telling you that you can do it, and cry out for him. He slows on purpose then, dragging his heavy length through the warmth of your center as overstimulation starts to settle in.

“Please, Bobby,” you beg him. “Please.”

Another laugh into your neck, a soft bite to the skin there, and he pushes in once more with a deep sigh of relief.

“Fuck.”

“Watch your mouth, young man.”

He devolves into giggles, soft and sweet and not at all full of exhaustion like anything else today. Just Robert and his light, infectious laughter. That’s why you forget how big he is, how built and cocky he actually is. Because at the base of him is this polite boy you fell in love with, who doesn’t cuss, and carries dogs and cats and you and all of his big emotions like babies against his chest—big and broad and protective and full of laughter.

#bob floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #tgm #tgm fanfiction #top gun: maverick #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #o writes

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jaeedraszaerysz · 4 months

Text

Bitter truth.

Note: idfk why I wrote this but it happened so...

Also I called the girl Aurora coz why not 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Set in 1984

Warnings: swearing, breakups, cheating, smoking, mentions of drugs and alcohol, threats of violence.

Summary: when Eddie cheats on Aurora and normality seems to turn on her like the wind, she finds herself back with old friends, and the long haired boy may just live to despise his decision.

Metalheads weren't exactly a common occurrence in Hawkins, and even then, only a select few were decent enough to even say hello to in passing.

That is how Aurora found herself dating the infamous, long-haired, doe-eyed "freak"; Eddie Munson. They had much in common, both guitar players, dead set on becoming kick-ass rock legends and changing the world, they both had amazing hair, and they both associated with a very, very dysfunctional group known as "the party".

Aurora had always been close with the boys, having babysat for Joyce Byers as a younger teen and developing friendships with both Nancy wheeler and Robin Buckley, along with Steve and Jonathan later on. She was kind, those who hated her only for her friends and her 'vibe', for her personality was nothing to complain about.

Her kindness even, somehow, led her to a friendship with Billy Hargrove, who drove her home or kept away creepy teenage boys in exchange for the very secret help with homework and patching him up after fights with his father.

She was much loved around Hawkins by those with decent hearts and always seemed to be smiling, radiating a warm energy into any room she entered.

It was surprising when she first started to date the Munson boy, however.

He didn't treat her like a princess, or even like his girlfriend alot of the time. He told her she tried too hard when she listened to heavier music than him, complained about her guitar skills despite them being practically perfect. He picked on her outfits and her hair and lots of things. Yet she stayed by him, and cared for him, taking what little affection she gained in return with a smile.

This is how she found herself approaching Eddie's trailer in the howling wind, in the pitch black on a Friday night. They had arranged to meet up to watch films and play guitar, but for a reason unknown to Aurora, Eddie had neglected to pick her up, so she made her own way.

She opened the door as she usually would and walked through into the trailer, it didn't look any different, but it sounded it. There were hushed whispers coming from the room down the hall and she smiled, expecting Eddie to be hunched over his guitar perfecting a song or two. She noticed the boys habit of talking to himself when he was involved in his music.

She walked quietly to the door and held the handle, pausing suddenly when she realised the door was open a crack. Eddie never left it open. Never. It was like an unspoken rule to the boy. His room was his and his only.

She pushed it inwards carefully and it glided away from her hand, revealing her boyfriends room and her boyfriend.

On top of a girl.

On top of Chrissy Cunningham.

He had his head buried in her neck and neither of them wore any clothes, the items already discarded on the hardwood floor amongst various other objects.

Aurora just stood there as Chrissy shrieked and Eddie turned around like he'd just been struck by lightning. She didn't move, just stood, her arms dropping by her side, swinging subtly like they weren't even a part of her anymore. Like she had become an inanimate object.

She opened her mouth slightly and looked away, nodding her head in the slightest way and turning around, dazed and broken. Her eyes were emotionless and she walked out and down the steps like her life had just been slapped out of her.

She could here the stumble of Eddie trying to get back into his jeans and out the door. He followed her but she continued to walk, even as the rain began to pelt down like the black clouds shared her pain.

Eddie shouted her name but she just wandered off into the darkness, down the road. The rain water soaked through her Black Sabbath shirt and dripped down her arms, past her few tattoos and collecting on her leather bracelets and rings.

Her teats began to fall, basically unnoticeable against the splashing water droplets hailing from the night above her and she dragged her feet. She had her friends but Eddie had been her person. Her reason. Her life. This dealing was foreign to her. Someone so set on ridding the world of people who cheated and lied and fought had caused her more pain than any Hawkins jock or dolled up mother could.

She continued to kick stones up from the side of the road as she went, her breathing becoming heavier by the second. What she wasn't expecting was to zone out and for a familiar blue camaro to pull up beside her.

Billy rolled down the window and pushed open the passenger door for the soaking girl.

"Get in." He spoke calmly, nothing more, nothing less.

She slid in, staring at her lap.

"I'm getting your car all wet." She whispered, trying not to let her crying become detectable.

"You know I don't give a fuck, Aurora. What the hell are you doing out here?" His voice raised but he wasn't angry with her in the slightest. He noticed her shaking hands and offered her a cigarette, which she took, nodding at him briefly before bringing it to her lips.

He raised his eyebrows and after a moment she whispered something.

"He's with her. I went in for our date night and he was with her." Billy's face changed instantly from concern to anger and he held the steering wheel tightly in his fist.

"What." His word was laced with venom and he turned to fully face her.

"I went into his room and he was naked, on top of that cheerleading bitch, Carvers girl." She rested her head back against the seat and a lone tear slipped down her freezing face.

"I'm gonna rip that stupid motherfucker's face off! Who the fu-"

"I don't wanna be in Hawkins anymore. I always talk about leaving but I just need to fucking go. Anywhere. Fuck Munson, fuck Chrissy, fuck Hawkins, Billy. I wanna go."

The boy paused. He brushed his hair back and looked out the window, he turned to watch Aurora blow smoke out the crack in the window and sighed.

"Let's fucking go."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah." He replied quickly, laughing slightly. "There's nothing for us here. Let's go: just you and me. You're gonna be a huge fuckin rockstar and I've been wanting back to california since I got in that fucking car."

Aurora laughed in disbelief and threw her cigarette from the car.

"Right now?"

He made eye contact with her and smirked.

"Right fuckin now."

He drove the pair to Auroras house, where the girl climbed through her window and pulled out two small bags of clothes, some cash, and her guitar, she passed it to the mullet wearing boy and he quickly placed it in the back of the camaro. Aurora climbed back down and ran to the passenger side. The pair speeding off to their new destination. Cali-fuckin-fornia.

☆☆☆☆

Two days later the pair found themselves in a motel just outside Hollywood. They had kept to their words and hasn't stopped till they got there.

Aurora laid on the bed while Billy brushed his hair hastily in the tiny mirror in the bathroom.

"We never thought about where we're gonna live." The boy spoke suddenly, shattering the comfortable silence that lay between the pair.

"I've got a few friends here. Don't you fuckin worry about it."

☆☆☆☆

Six months later and no one in Hawkins had any idea where the ex-king of Hawkins high and the party's sweetheart had disappeared off to.

Some said he kidnapped her. Others they were having an affair and ran off. Others she was pregnant by the boy and the personal favorite of the basket ball team, Satan took them both down to hell.

The party sat in the byers home, bundled up on sofas and the floor and whatever else they could squish onto. Steve fiddled with the channels unconsciously as the kids bickered between themselves.

The Brunette flicked past MTV and suddenly Eddie was all on him screaming for him to turn it back on. It was some music festival interviews, featuring Eddie's personal favorites, Metallica.

His now girlfriend, Chrissy, sat next to him, silently staring down the children on the floor infront of her. Eddie seemed to try and replace Aurora with the girl and max, Robin, Nancy and will were not having it in the slightest, the rest of the party trying to adapt to it.

He shushed everyone almost violently as kirk hammet began to talk through the screen as an interviewer spoke to him about the show about to be played.

☆☆☆

There were tons of famous rockstars on the show; Guns n' Roses, Mötley Crüe, Pantera, Hanoi Rocks, Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, Van Halen, ZZ top, AC/DC, Ozzy Osbourne and Iron Maiden. It was Eddie's dream.

But during a random interview with various guys from different bands backstage, a very intoxicated Ozzy Osbourne stumbled into the room, his arm wrapped around a girl with bright white hair, adorned in black leather and studded jewelery, her other side held onto by an equally as hammered Eddie Van Halen. She was thrown a box of cigarettes by non other than Nikki Sixx and she lit one, placing it between her rouged lips before being dragged over to the camera. Her black sunglasses hid her eyes as the drunk British man began to speak into the camera.

It was all so cartoon like and Eddie laughed at the screen. Laughed until the rockstar moved back and revealed the girl without her glasses.

"And this," the loud Birmingham accent blared as the bot reached to turn the volume up. "Is Aurora Angel! Fucking mint girl right here this is, best woman guitarist I ever" He paused, forgetting himself, causing the girl to laugh and lean back on Van Halen's shoulder.

"Met?" She suggested. And the man's arms flew round her shoulder, shouting yes and stealing her cigarette before running off.

"Bloody hells, anyways." She laughed and turned to the woman now asking her questions.

"So, Aurora, we know you've been seen on the strip with a man quite a few times now, you seem close? Who is he?"

She bit her lip in thought and smiled suddenly when she realised what the lady was regarding. "Oh shit yeah, no. That's Billy. Best mate and number one fan. He's around here somewhere." She turned, her hair blowing slightly.

She was approached by the boy who still sported the same mullet, who was joined by non other than James Hetfield who engulfed the girl in a hug before joining in with the conversation.

☆☆☆

Eddie stood from his seat, shocked to his core. The kids began to freak out and max was shouting along with Steve.

No way, his girl. Ex-girl. Whom he had cheated on and replaced. Had become a famous rockstar, on hugging terms with his idol.

He felt his insides liquefy when he realised the bitter truth.

His rockstar potential was now 100% non-existent. Not when everyone in the industry was in love with the girl he broke and probably hated his guts for hurting her.

He was totally and utterly fucked.

You guys want a part 2? Let me know x

#eddie munson #rockstar reader #rockstar #eddie munson angst #angst #x reader #eddie munson x reader #metallica #motley crue #guns n roses #van halen #ozzy osbourne #rock n roll #metal #fanfic #fic #hurt

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nightingaelic · 1 year

Note

Since I’ve seen you also do fallout 4 Reacts, how about this, romanced fallout 4 companions react to synth Shaun calling the mom/dad

They had known, going into this thing they shared with Vault 111's sole survivor, that the road to a happy ending wasn't going to be easy. Love was already hard enough to navigate, even without the person on the receiving end being a pre-war relic, a figurehead of the Commonwealth, and number one most wanted on multiple factions' bounty lists. Those moments of peace they managed to snatch were fleeting, but they teased of greater things, and when their fingers and the sole survivor's intertwined atop the roof of Mass Fusion as the Institute crumbled into the Charles River below, they selfishly wondered if this meant a newfound freedom for their relationship.

Then came Shaun. Pure, naive, starry-eyed Shaun, who looked up at the sole survivor with the sweetest smile and gifted them the saddest holotape, who held out his arms for one person only and folded inward if left with anyone else. He confounded everyone, not just the sole survivor's chosen partner, but it didn't matter. His remaining parent held him close during the darkest hours, told him stories and sang him lullabies until he stopped shaking and slept. It was on one of these late nights that the sole survivor's companion resolved to do right by both of them, no matter what it took, and pressed a gentle kiss into the crown of the sleeping boy's head.

Cait: "You envy him," the sole survivor said quietly the next morning as they watched Shaun skip ahead on the road to Diamond City.

Cait swallowed. "I do," she admitted. "I've told you what my own parents were like. When I look at you, I can't help but notice every last little thing they didn't do. Everything you are doing, with him. He's damn lucky, and he doesn't even know it. Then there's me, and kids... All the ones I spent time around were just as broken as I was, older souls than they deserved to be. He won't ever know that kind of fear, and I'm fucking glad of it, but it also means I can't talk to him."

"Well, you have to start somewhere. But I get it." The sole survivor pulled her in by the waist and kissed her. "I love you, Cait. I can't tell you not to feel sad about the way things worked out- just don't take it out on him. He's been through a lot, too."

Cait rolled her eyes when they weren't looking, certain that she was always going to be the distant, red-headed stepmother to Shaun's actual parent, but her moment came sooner than expected. Batty old Moe Cronin was still hawking his baseball gear in Diamond City's town square, beckoning to anyone who wandered too close. "Swatters, right here!" he called as the sole survivor and their little family passed by, clearly aware that Shaun had perked up his ears. "Don't let down the home team! Why, even kids will appreciate a swatter in their hands, when they're traveling the Commonwealth!"

"No thanks, Moe," the sole survivor said, waving the salesman off. "He's still a little young for that kind of sport."

"I disagree," Cait cut in, putting a defiant hand on her hip. "Best to start him young, else he won't know what he's doing until it's too late."

Shaun looked between his two guardians. "Please?" he begged the sole survivor. "Mom's okay with it."

Cait could've melted, right then and there in the marketplace. Before the sole survivor had a chance to answer, she'd turned back to Moe, fumbling for her caps. "That one," she said, pointed at a lighter model splashed with indigo paint. "Seems about the right size."

Moe took it down from his display wall and presented it to the boy. "A genuine model, there. Perfect for a first-time owner. You take good care of her, kid."

Cait pulled the boy close to her hip and ruffled his hair. "He'd better. I was planning on using those caps to buy us Power Noodles."

Shaun smiled and closed his eyes as he hugged the baseball bat close. "Thanks, mom."

Curie: Although her educational modules had only been installed for the purpose of making her a better laboratory assistant in Vault 81, Curie still had the full knowledge repository of a Miss Nanny robot to draw upon stored up in her new synthetic brain. Caring for a 10-year-old boy meant following clear developmental guidelines and standards, and she set about writing a rough curriculum for him so as to give him some semblance of schooling while he wandered the Commonwealth with his guardians.

To her delight, Curie found Shaun to be especially receptive to her lessons. He was very interested in biology and history, perhaps because of the obvious blind spots that came with spending his early life inside the Institute. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the mutated creatures that walked the wasteland, coloring in the pictures of radstags and deathclaws and bloatflies alike in Curie's battered notebook as she sketched them. For history, though, Curie had to turn to those around her. The most recent history of the Commonwealth could be found with the sole survivor, who had spent most of their post-vault life at the center of it. Further accounts came from Preston Garvey thanks to his experience with the Minutemen, and Piper Wright and Nick Valentine had quite a bit more in their extensive periodical and case records. Even Paladin Danse pitched in, offering a rather thorough recollection of the Brotherhood of Steel's history on both coasts of North America and in between that left Shaun playing at being a Scribe for over a week.

Shaun's best subject, though, was language. He had an adequate grasp of English, but he began to press Curie early on to teach him French. She added it in between her other lessons, until they could carry on basic conversations. "Pourquoi vouliez-vous apprendre le français?" Curie asked him one day when it was just the two of them, curious. "Oui, ç'est une belle langue, but it is not especially common in the Commonwealth."

Shaun smiled. "Parce que ça nous appartient, maman."

"Maman?" Curie smiled back. "I did not teach you that word."

"You did," Shaun insisted, crawling into her lap to hug her. "Oui, maman, you did."

Curie ended the lesson early and gave him her pencil and notebook to draw pictures in. When the sole survivor returned that evening from their trade excursion, she presented them with the piece of art he had made, depicting the three travelers locked in battle with a mirelurk queen. The sole survivor looked over it with a smile, ran a thumb over the words he'd scribbled next to Curie's blazing laser rifle. "'Ma maman,'" they read with a grin, drawing her into a one-armed hug. "Congratulations, mom."

Paladin Danse: "I'm a liability to you," Danse argued with the sole survivor the next day, as they packed their things to hit the road again. "To both of you. You know what will happen if a Brotherhood patrol recognizes me."

"So wear this." The sole survivor tossed him a ratty shawl and a red bandanna. "Cover your face. Plenty of people do, in these parts."

"And if they recognize my voice?" Dance argued. "Only the greenest Initiates would be fooled by a disguise this thin."

"You're giving the Brotherhood too much credit." The sole survivor straightened up from organizing their pack. "Just let me do the talking and try not to worry."

"Easier said than done," Danse grumbled, picking up their wasteland fashion offerings with obvious distaste.

They were ready to go by noon, the sole survivor's pack slung over their shoulder and Shaun's hand firmly grasped in theirs. Danse brought up the rear as they crossed the bridge out of Sanctuary, and he tugged the bandanna around his neck up to cover his face once they reached the other side of the river.

When Shaun next turned back, distracted by some dry branches creaking together overhead, he giggled in surprise. "Why are you wearing that?" he asked, pointing to the bandanna.

"It's not safe," Danse grunted, lowering his laser rifle a little.

"But why does that help keep you safe?"

The sole survivor reached down to ruffle their son's hair. "It's a little hard to explain, Shaun. Some people out here don't like Danse. He's trying to hide his face from them, so they don't know it's him."

"But there's no one here," Shaun insisted, throwing his arms out to indicate the barren landscape and its silence.

"Well, you never know," Danse said, taking the bait. "Come here. Look at that tree. That big one, see it? I'd say it's wide enough to hide a man behind it. Maybe even a raider or two, if they're skinny."

"What about that one?" Shaun asked, pointing to a larger tree.

Danse nodded solemnly. "Three raiders. Easily."

He winked at the sole survivor, who was stifling their giggles. Shaun, who was staring open-mouthed at the trees, missed it. "Can I have one too, dad?" the boy asked, tugging Danse's sleeve.

"One of what?" Danse replied, unable to keep his voice from cracking.

"A bandanna." Shaun looked up at him with a smile. "We can hide together."

Danse, lost, looked helplessly to the sole survivor. Without a word, they pulled a navy blue bandanna from their pack and handed it over. Danse knelt down and carefully tied the cloth around Shaun's face. "There you go, soldier," he said when he was finished, and the words felt softer in his mouth than any of the other times he'd said them.

Mayor John Hancock: Though he was brave enough to risk a little affection after the kid was asleep, Hancock gave Shaun plenty of space during the waking hours. He wasn't blind to the way some people looked at him. Most kids stared.

Shaun wasn't any different in that aspect, but the fact that this red-coated, tricorn-bedecked ruin of a man was keeping his parent company proved too much for his curiosity. Once the stage of open-mouthed, morbid fascination had passed, Shaun's face grew more contemplative. He started to watch closely as Hancock did basic things. Eat. Sleep. Tie some cloth over a wound. Brush his teeth. He didn't seem embarrassed when Hancock made it obvious these attentions were noticed by waggling his brows or pulling funny faces in the middle of a meal- he just looked like he was filing the information away in his head. He wasn't immune to Hancock's infectious humor though, and he eventually started to giggle and make faces back. The sole survivor rolled their eyes at the pair of them, but Hancock egged them on until they, too, succumbed to the silliness.

When the trio paid their first visit to Goodneighbor and people on the street began to greet Hancock as "mayor," Shaun's eyes grew as wide as Port-A-Diner saucers. Hancock relished the attention, stopped in at every trading stall and tipped his hat to every vagabond they passed. Though Shaun kept a tight hold of his parent's hand, it was obvious he was a little lost between the attention that the sole survivor and the returning town leader were receiving. Things came to a head when a crowd gathered around the travelers and Shaun's grip on the sole survivor's hand was jostled loose. As would-be admirers moved in and separated them, Shaun's voice was thin and high under the boisterous conversations. "Ha-Han... dad!"

"Whoa." Hancock threw his arms out, pushed the crowd back. "Give us some space, folks. Yeah, you, back up or I'll sic Fahrenheit on you."

Shaun was clinging to his leg, and he relaxed a little as Hancock lifted him up to eye level with the adults. Hancock puffed with the effort. The kid was heavier than he looked. "Now this here," he said, grunting as he re-positioned the boy on his hip, "Is Shaun. He's with me."

"Is he yours, Hancock?" teased Rufus Rubins from somewhere in the crowd.

"As good as," Hancock replied proudly. He looked at Shaun and smiled. "It's okay, kid. I've got you."

When the boy smiled back at him shyly, Hancock plopped his tricorn onto the boy's head. "Ever thought about becoming a deputy mayor?" he asked. "Don't worry. It's a pretty easy job."

Robert Joseph MacCready: More than anything, MacCready wondered if he was being fair. He'd just gotten his own son back, and Duncan's renewed presence in his life was a constant reminder of just how much he'd missed. How long had it been, since he'd left his little boy with friends and trudged north, hoping against hope that he'd find a cure for the illness that wracked his little frame? How many pounds had he put on since he'd sent the miracle medicine home? How many inches had he grown, how many questions had he missed? He couldn't help but marvel at this little boy who was so big now, so much like Lucy and so much like him.

Shaun was older, Shaun was quieter, and Shaun was watching every time MacCready felt the need to pause, staring at his own little creation in awe. He knew it. He started consciously doing the same for Shaun, just so he wouldn't feel left out, and to his surprise, taking the extra time meant he noticed things he initially hadn't. The way he looked warily at the settlements they visited, searching for hiding spots to retreat to. The way his eyes gleamed in the light of his parent's Pip-Boy, entranced by the holotape games they collected. The way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, the way he pronounced certain words, the way he tied his shoes and drew his letters and grabbed his guardians' hands when he was scared. Yes, Shaun was a miniature sole survivor in countless ways, but there was a little bit of MacCready in the way he approached the wasteland.

MacCready began to mix them up, Duncan and Shaun, and they laughed and corrected him and teased him to no end along with the sole survivor. It only made him smile wider. They were between Bunker Hill and Goodneighbor one day, playing "I spy" as they passed through the ruined city, when Duncan picked a rather obvious target for the guessing game. "I spy with my little eye... something that is... green."

"The water," the sole survivor guessed, pointing toward the Charles River. Duncan shook his head emphatically.

"It better not be a super mutant," MacCready said, only mildly concerned. The streets had been quiet for their entire trip.

"Dad's hat," Shaun guessed.

The sole survivor and MacCready stopped in their tracks. MacCready's hand went to his cap. Duncan nodded and giggled, and he squirmed with joy when his dad plopped the hat in question onto his head.

MacCready swept Shaun up into his arms. Shaun looked at him, wide-eyed, unused to the overt affection. "What?"

The sniper cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dad?"

"Yeah."

MacCready planted a scratchy kiss on the boy's cheek, reveling in the shriek of surprise it elicited. "Okay," he said with pride. "We do look alike."

"We do not."

Piper Wright: It was a promise that Piper had made once before, after her dad had been murdered and she'd been left the sole caretaker for her little sister. She and Nat had managed to navigate their new roles eventually, eked out a living in Diamond City and grown together as best they could. Piper had settled into something that wasn't quite sisterhood, parenthood, friendship or work partnership, and yet encompassed all of the above. The sole survivor had fit into that life alongside her fairly well, what with their transient inclinations, responsibilities to their associates, and being a lightning rod for Commonwealth intrigue, but Shaun presented a new challenge.

"Diamond City's the best place for him," Piper insisted to the sole survivor any chance she got. They were at Home Plate for now, but the wasteland wanderer had that look in their eye that suggested they were growing restless, unsure of their safety and the safety of their child. "There's a school, there's food, running water and a security force and oodles of people who dote on him just because he's a kid in the wasteland with manners, which is a rarity nowadays."

They always looked at her sadly. "A synth kid, Piper. People will notice eventually."

"So what? Nick's a synth, Diamond City got used to him!"

"We need to go soon, Piper, for his sake. It'll be okay."

"Stay, Blue."

The pair went around in circles like that whenever they got a spare moment, saying it every different way but getting nowhere. They were in the middle of one of these arguments when they were interrupted by Nat and Shaun, who blew into the little house with a gust of wind, rain, and flapping newspaper pages. The two kids had their arms locked at the elbows and were giggling wildly, but they stopped short when they saw the way their respective guardians were talking. "Is everything okay?" Nat asked warily.

"Yeah," Piper answered quickly, hiding her expression by removing her cap to scratch her head. The sole survivor had other ideas, and took this moment as an opportunity. They got down on one knee and took Shaun's hands in theirs. "Shaun, buddy, we need... I need to go on a trip. For a while. Do you want to come with me?"

Shaun's eyes flicked between them and Piper, uncertain. "Are mom and Nat coming, too?" he asked.

Nat's eyes widened and Piper's heart leapt into her throat. The sole survivor choked on their words, and tears welled up in the corners of their eyes. They looked up at Piper, their apology plain on their face. "She- we-"

Piper dove in, wrapped Shaun in a hug and twirled him up in her ratty coat. He laughed, surprised, and the reporter beamed down at him.

When the two had ceased their little dance, Piper turned back to the sole survivor and helped them up off the rug. "Come on, Blue," she said, giving them a kiss on the cheek. "We're being stupid. Let's talk this out like a family. Nat and Shaun deserve to know what's up."

Preston Garvey: Preston had thanked his lucky stars several times over the last few months that the sole survivor had risen to the challenge of becoming General of the Minutemen, but now he found himself continually second-guessing that decision. As they pursued the Institute across the Commonwealth, unearthed horrific truth after horrific truth, he'd grieved their spouse and child with them and thrown himself into the work of rebuilding the Minutemen to help them fill that void of loss. He hadn't expected, at the end of things, that the Institute would leave them something else to help fill the void - and now, looking at Shaun, Preston couldn't help but blame himself for centering the sole survivor and leaving them with responsibilities that got in the way of caring for the boy.

So Preston did what he could. When the General was in talks with traders to negotiate caravan protections at the Castle, he took Shaun walking along the shores of Dorchester Bay, hunting for mirelurk eggs. When the General was away from Sanctuary helping settlements, he tucked Shaun into bed at night and read him stories from a worn book of fables that Sturges had bought off of Trashcan Carla. When the General came home late looking like they'd crawled through a yao guai den on their stomach, he hung up their coat, pushed them into the shower, and made dinner with Codsworth while Shaun supervised and decided whether it needed more salt.

"I don't deserve you," the sole survivor said gratefully each time.

"You do," Preston always reassured them. "You both do."

Shaun was less quick to appreciate Preston's care, but slowly he warmed up to the General's right-hand man. He remembered the best spots for picking raspberries that they found together, he started to request tales about the Minutemen as his bedtime stories, and whenever Codsworth asked him about his day, he would shyly look to Preston before relating their adventures together. It was slow going, but each time the boy looked at his parent's partner, there was less and less hesitancy.

One night after a particularly long day on the road, Preston and Shaun were pinching together some ground mole rat potstickers for soup while the sole survivor washed up. Shaun had a case of the giggles and kept leaving floury fingerprints on his own face, which Preston kept trying and failing to wipe off with a kitchen towel. As Shaun fought off another of these attempts, amidst his happy laughter, he pushed the towel away and shrieked, "Dad, stooooop!"

Preston froze. In the bathroom, something clattered to the floor. Even Codsworth paused chopping vegetables to swivel his eye stalks toward the kitchen table. Shaun made a face. "What?"

Gently, Preston put his thumb over one of the flour spots on Shaun's face and rubbed it away. He tousled the boy's hair and chuckled. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Save the razorgrain flour for the dumplings, buddy, okay?"

Porter Gage: Even compared to everything else in Nuka-World, Porter Gage knew he was the rustiest piece of equipment in the park. Well, everyone in Nuka-World was an antique of some sort, hanging onto a bygone or kitted out in tattered costume from days gone by - hell, the Overboss was practically a pre-war collectible - but Gage felt stiff and dusty, even compared to them. He was old, for a raider. Raiders didn't get old. There was safety in being overlooked because of your age and lack of ambition, but it sure didn't make you interesting to the average kid.

Eventually though, that ability to be overlooked came out in Gage's favor, when it came to Shaun. Shaun was an oddity in the park. Anyone who was stuck firmly to the side of the Overboss was an oddity, but beyond that, Shaun was a kid. Raiders didn't get old, and they definitely didn't have kids if they could help it. Most of the gangs were respectful to the Overboss and their kiddo, but when they'd passed out of earshot, they talked. A liability. A loose end. Not even human, a few of them said.

Gage didn't say anything, but he did listen, and he did tell his partner what the situation was when Shaun was asleep for the night. When they had him pressed against the wall of Fizztop Grille's reception, he spun them ideas about what to do until they told him to shut up or rendered him speechless themselves. Honestly, that told him everything he needed to know. They were at a loss for what to do about the kid, too.

If he'd been a younger man, maybe Gage could've let things play themselves out. But he wasn't, so he took the boy under his wing. He gave him his best knife and his second-best pistol and taught him how to use both on the prop cutouts in Dry Rock Gulch. He taught him how to move silently through the overgrowth of Safari Adventure. He taught him the best places to check for supplies in abandoned towns, on one particularly memorable afternoon in Bradberton, when Shaun shot his first feral and only cried for a little bit afterward.

"It's alright, kid," Gage reassured him, rubbing his shoulder while Shaun tried to calm his hiccups. "They don't know themselves anymore. There's no going back. You did him a kindness."

"Doesn't feel like it," Shaun sniffled.

Suddenly, the boy turned into Gage's shoulder, hugged him awkwardly around the metal mess of his armor. "I'm not any good at this like you, dad. I'm sorry."

Gage closed his eyes for a moment. Against his better judgment, he unbuckled his armor, put his arm around Shaun and pulled him into his chest. "No one's good at first, kiddo. But I'll be here until you are. Promise."

BONUS!

Deacon: Though Deacon would never admit it, Shaun terrified Deacon. He'd wanted a kid at some point, obviously, but that version of himself seemed so far removed from who he was now. Different place, different face, different circumstances and perspectives. He wasn't sure he could go back to that mindset now.

Much like the sole survivor though, he didn't have a choice. Shaun was here, curiously peeking at the papers on Desdemona's workstation and getting shooed out of Carrington's clinic. At least Tinker Tom was self-aware enough to tone down his swearing and more dangerous experimentation, but Deacon and the sole survivor agreed that the sooner Shaun got out of HQ, the better.

"They're all intimidated by you," Deacon whispered conspiratorially to Shaun on the day they finally packed up their things. "You're the best Railroad agent here, and they all know it."

"Really?" Shaun whispered back. "I thought you were the best Railroad agent here."

"It goes you, me, Desdemona, then your parent," Deacon counted off on his fingers. He shouldered the pack Shaun had stuffed to the brim and groaned. "Oof, you've got a lot of stuff already. That's how I know you're the best agent. You're already hanging onto supplies in case of the worst. Smart."

The sole survivor pulled Shaun into a half-hug, caressing his head. "I still rank under Desdemona, huh?"

Deacon winked. "You're getting there. Come on, we'll go out the back door."

Once the three emerged, blinking, into the North End, Shaun took one of the sole survivor's hands and one of Deacon's. "Where are we going?" he asked.

The sole survivor squinted at the buildings around them. "North," they answered vaguely.

"To a deathclaw farm," Deacon said solemnly. "Where they hatch the little lizards and teach them how to be big, ferocious beasts."

"Deacon."

"Sorry. Just a rad chicken farm that's helped us out once or twice."

Shaun looked up at Deacon. "Are deathclaw farms real, dad?"

Deacon choked on his witty response and fell into a coughing fit. The sole survivor looked shocked too, but a smile came over their face and they slapped him on the back a few times until his lungs quieted down.

"Uh, eh-heh, no, buddy," Deacon answered, gripping the boy's hand a little more firmly. "But you know what they say: Be the change you want to see in the world. If you want to go all-in on deathclaw farming, I'm right there with you."

Desdemona: Every day after that, Desdemona expected to wake up and find the sole survivor and their son gone. She couldn't leave HQ now, what with the post-Institute clean-up filling all their safehouses and gumming up the usual escape routes, and PAM changing her mind every minute about what predictions were most likely. All of that combined with the general atmosphere of uncertainty around the Railroad's future - what does the Railroad do, when all of the synths that can be rescued have been rescued? - kept her to-do list full and her mind racing. In the past, her busy periods were an invitation for her unlikely partner to depart on their own adventures, check in with things around the Commonwealth that didn't immediately concern the Railroad, and she fully anticipated this from them now that they had a child to care for, too.

But Shaun and the sole survivor stayed. Deacon's finest recruit rolled up their sleeves and joined her at the war table, read her notes back to her and pointed out strategic opportunities, discrepancies, details she might have overlooked. Desdemona was surprised by how well they managed to mesh with her style of leadership. In the past, anyone who had tried to butt in on her planning usually wound up clashing with her, prioritizing in different ways or misunderstanding critical operations they just didn't know the ins and outs of. Somehow, the sole survivor avoided all of these pitfalls and slid right into the fray next to her.

Shaun was less helpful than his parent, prone to doodling on less-important papers and humming along with the songs on Diamond City Radio, but his quiet presence was company enough. While the sole survivor was still catching up on the sleep they'd lost burying the Institute, Shaun seemed content to remain at Desdemona's side late into the night, watching her work.

It was on one of these late evenings, after all of the agents except the night watch had gone to bed, that Shaun let out a yawn as wide as the Charles River and blinked sleepily up at the Railroad leader. "Mom, I'm tired."

Desdemona paused her dead drop status review and looked down at him with a surprised smile. "I've got to stay up, Shaun. This is important."

"But I'm tired."

"Okay." Desdemona put her pencil down and picked him up. He was heavy, but not so heavy that she wasn't able to carry him to the cots in the back and deposit him gently next to the sole survivor. The movement was enough to wake them, and they pulled the boy in close and wrapped him in some of their blanket. Desdemona tucked them in and went back to the glow of the lanterns with the sound of Shaun's words ringing in her ears.

Elder Arthur Maxson: The Squires on the Prydwen tried to adopt the new boy into their number, of course, but to the sole survivor's dismay, Shaun's odd remarks about "life on the surface" soon labeled him as an outcast. The boy turned even further inward, befriending an odd group of individuals: Scribe Haylen, Paladin Brandis, Senior Scribe Neriah, Emmett the cat. All of them were kind and patient with Shaun, but none of them were exactly peers.

"I don't suppose you could order the Squires to be nicer to him," the sole survivor remarked with a hint of bitterness during one of their visits to the Elder's quarters.

"Let him find his own way," Maxson replied kindly. "If I interfere, they will only resent him for it."

It felt harsher when he said it out loud, but the sole survivor respected his judgment. Still, Maxson couldn't help but recall his own difficult childhood spent searching for friendship, for anyone who might see him as a person instead of a future Elder. When he next had free time, he visited Proctor Quinlan's library of holotapes and came away with a stack of games and transcribed books.

Later that evening, the sole survivor walked into their quarters to find Maxson and Shaun on the bed with their Pip-Boy, Maxson cheering the boy on as he navigated his band of adventurers through a dungeon level in Grognak & the Ruby Ruins. "Go left," Maxson urged. "There's a treasure chest down that hallway."

"How do you know?" Shaun asked, screwing his mouth up in concentration as he input the commands.

"I've been playing this game since before you were alive. See, in the corner over there."

The sole survivor joined them on the bed. "Watch out for goblins."

"Oh, dad showed me how to fight them off already."

Maxson stiffened, and looked quickly over Shaun's head at the sole survivor. Their eyes widened meaningfully, and they tilted their head down toward their son. "Did he show you the goblin village yet?"

Shaun looked up at Maxson. "There's a goblin village?"

"There... there is." Maxson swallowed his misgivings for the moment and directed his attention back to the game. He put an arm around the boy and tilted the Pip-Boy so he could see a little better. "Let's get through this dungeon together first."

Nick Valentine: To Nick's surprise, Shaun warmed up to him fast. He wasn't put off by his missing parts, his glowing eyes or the occasional whirring noises that emanated from inside his chest cavity like most kids. In fact, he liked to press his ear up to Nick's shirt and listen, trying to figure out what the noise was. "It's like your heartbeat," he always said.

"What's it saying?" Nick would ask. Shaun would imitate whatever noise he was hearing, and they would both laugh.

"He grew up around synths," the sole survivor reminded Nick when they were alone. "Er... well, he's been around synths for as long as he's... you get my meaning."

Nick raised his cup of tea to them. "I do. I'm just so used to kids being wary. It's a nice change of pace. How's he doing in class?"

"Great in science and math, horrible at spelling. He could use some practice that isn't just me peering over his shoulder, you know how he hates doing schoolwork if he can't relate it to the real world. Is there any way you could...?"

Nick held up his metal hand. "You don't even need to ask. I'll get him to help Ellie take notes on some cases."

The sole survivor smiled. "How's Ellie's spelling?"

"Impeccable."

A few days later, the little family was ensconced in Nick's office with Ellie poring over a case that had come in from Vault 81 about a missing person. Ellie had given Shaun his own clipboard and pencil, and the pair were scribbling furiously while Nick went over everything that had been written in the letter from the vault's overseer, Gwen McNamara. "Says here that she might have gone to seek her fortune with one of the local caravans," Nick noted. "If she hitched a ride with one, she might have paid them to cover her tracks, but it'd still be worth paying a visit to Bunker Hill to see if they've seen her. Shaun, do you know how to spell 'investigate'?"

"I-N-V-E-S-T-A-G-A-T-E," Shaun answered confidently.

"It's 'I' after T, not 'A'," Ellie corrected him.

"Oh." Shaun deflated a bit. "Sorry, dad."

Ellie dropped her pencil and the sole survivor choked on the Nuka-Cola they were drinking. Nick lowered the letter, perplexed, but when he caught the shy look on Shaun's face, he couldn't contain a grin of pride. "It's okay, son," he said. "We'll keep practicing together, okay? We've got nothing but time."

Old Longfellow: "The island's no place for a child," Longfellow told the sole survivor when they first brought the boy to the docks of Far Harbor.

"You wanted one, once," they had retorted, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and planting a kiss on his bearded face. "Were you planning to leave, once you'd had the baby?"

"That was different. Wasn't as bad then as it is now."

"Take us back to your cabin on your sand bar, old man. Shaun and I are survivors. And if it gets worse, we'll get on my boat and go back to the Commonwealth."

So Old Longfellow rowed them home to his shack under the pines, and he double- and triple-checked the fog condensers he'd bought off the scientists at Acadia. Shaun followed him around, taking in the little island's woods, beach, and craggy landscape with a pair of eyes wider than a mirelurk's shell. This relationship continued for well over a month: Daily excursions to check the traps and mechanical equipment that kept them all from dying, weekly trips into town to trade and stock up, and the occasional trudge down to the beach to see if anything interesting had washed up. Sometimes the sole survivor remained behind, skinning a radstag or shucking oysters, leaving the old man and the boy to their daily chores outside in the chilling sea breeze. On one of these occasions, Longfellow was making his way toward the wood pile he'd been stocking up and didn't realize that Shaun wasn't right behind him as usual. He might never have noticed, if he hadn't caught the quiet word on the wind at his back: "Dad."

Longfellow spun and found Shaun frozen, staring at the edge of the woods. Staring back was a radstag, glowing faintly from internal radiation, with only one head and pair of antlers.

It was a ways off, but Longfellow still moved to grab the boy and pull him out of harm's way. The movement startled the creature and it huffed before alighting into the trees, its tail flying a warning as it bounded off. Longfellow pulled Shaun close and sighed, trying to catch his breath again. "Stay close, boy."

"They all used to look like that," Shaun replied softly, watching the deer's retreat. "I never thought I'd see one without two."

"Rare as hen's teeth," Longfellow agreed. "Must be our lucky day."

X6-88: X6-88 knew that technically, his role with the director was a protection assignment, but excursions to the surface and a growing trust between them had blossomed into something else. He also knew that technically, Shaun was an assignment too, one that Father had bestowed upon the sole survivor just before his death. In the safety of their Institute quarters though, they could be something more to each other. They could talk about what it was to be a synth, to live apart from the world at large, and what within their little underground haven could be changed for the betterment of something beyond mankind.

He and the sole survivor were cautious at first to talk about these sorts of things around Shaun, but the synth boy soon proved bright enough to understand the dangers of self in this place, be they realization, expression, or actualization. "It's not fair," Shaun would say at dinner. "I want to become a scientist. I want to grow up. And I can't even talk about it anywhere else."

"We're working on it," the sole survivor always said. "Dr. Li and I have some ideas. You won't always be a child, Shaun."

X6 knew that they were doing their best, but they were hiding the fact that Dr. Li had pushed back on the project multiple times. She'd believed the synth child was a waste of time and effort from the beginning, and extending that effort would take more than just a few ideas from the sole survivor. He knew they would keep trying, but it would never be fast enough for a 10-year-old boy. And every step they took toward that goal would bring the scrutiny of the Directorate, some of whom were eager to find any reason to discredit the brand-new upstart that had passed them up to lead the Institute.

"We should leave," X6 suggested as he lay in bed next to the sole survivor after another night like this. "Before it's too late."

"We can't," they replied in a whisper. "They don't have the tech on the surface to help Shaun, and we have so much we could offer the rest of the world. If we leave, we'll never see this place again."

"It would be difficult, but we would be together."

"Just give me a little more time, X6. Please."

The Courser lay awake long after the director had gone to sleep, trying and failing to come up with a better plan. As such, he was still awake when Shaun stole into bed with them, rubbing tears from his face with his little hands. X6 settled the boy in between himself and the sole survivor and wiped the rest of the tears away with the sheet.

"I had a bad dream, dad," Shaun explained, sniffling. "I've been having them a lot."

X6 didn't have the heart to correct the child. "I know," he said instead. "I've been having them too. Dreams can't hurt you, Shaun. If they try, I'll protect you."

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fo4 companions #fallout art #fo4 companions react #fallout 4 companions react #12 days of ficmas #love in the wasteland

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