#crystal's fics

[1004tyun-archive]

❥ late bloomer

✿ pairing: non-idol!taehyun x noona!reader

✿ summary: your high school and college years were nothing short of uneventful. no first dates, no first kiss, no first boyfriend, nothing. but when you and taehyun hit it off at an art exhibit and start a relationship, you know you want him to be your first for everything. but does taehyun know he's your first?

✿ genres: established relationship, smut, slight angst

✿ warnings: slight age gap (reader is 25, taehyun is 21), virgin reader, soft dom taehyun, body worship, mirror sex, voyeurism

✿ word count: 5.8k words

✿ a/n: hi friends! i've been noticing an increase in the taehyun noona lover agenda, so i thought why not toss my hat in and give y'all a noona reader fic of my own? i hope you enjoy <3

very special thank you to @cherrypeaking for being my sounding board while writing this fic! screenshots were shared, tears were shed, memories were made 🥹

You zoom down the streets of Seoul with purpose, the wind blowing through your hair as you blast Carly Rae Jepsen’s entire discography in your car, not caring if anyone’s bothered by the way the bass shakes your car. Today’s a special day, after all.

You and Taehyun’s halfiversary, to be specific. It was like pulling teeth trying to get him to play along with the gimmick of celebrating the first six months of your relationship, but you were too excited not to celebrate it. You had a feeling there would be many more months to come, you knew it from the first date. You’ve never been more certain about anything.

You roll up to Taehyun’s apartment complex and turn your music down to a whisper’s volume. You text him indicating that you’re outside and he steps out moments later. He looks so dashing in a white dress shirt, black pants, his dark hair pushed back, and a Rolex adorning his wrist. As soon as he slides into your car, you’re hit with the scent of his woodsy, floral cologne.

Does he have any idea how irresistible he is?

“Happy halfiversary, baby,” you say and lean in, smiling into the kiss he gives you. You playfully smack him on the arm when he doesn’t return the greeting and he holds back a smile, his lips pressing into a line.

“Come on, you have to say it too!”

“Or what, the magic won’t work?” he asks dryly.

“Come on, say it!” you whine, then cross your arms. “I’m not driving us to our reservation until you say it.”

His smile gets harder to suppress as you give him puppy eyes, you can tell his resolve is beginning to crack.

“Happy… halfiversary, Y/N,” he finally says. You pump your fist and kiss him on the cheek. He can’t stop himself from smiling and neither can you.

If there’s one thing you’ve grown to admire about Taehyun, it’s his dry sense of humor. He takes so much pleasure in messing with you, but you love to return the energy, pushing the boundaries of just what you can get him to do in the name of love.

You switch to the playlist you and Taehyun made when you first started seeing each other and warmth spreads in your chest as you reminisce.

It hasn’t been too long you started dating, but every day has been so bright since Taehyun entered your life.

You’re relieved by everything he is. Protective, kind, warm in his own special, Taehyun way. His warmth radiates even as he sits across from you and holds your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. The flame of the candle between you enhances the brown in his eyes.

Being an art museum security guard is a niche job that requires you to look tough and always be on your toes, but being around Taehyun allows you to let your guard down.

You’re the older of the two of you; you’re a couple of months into being 25 and Taehyun turned 21 just days before you met, but you turn into such a giddy child whenever he’s around.

You swing your arms as you hold hands and walk through the city streets together, and Taehyun watches you in amusement, a quiet fond smile on his face.

You make your way from the restaurant to the grocery store to stock up on snack foods for the night.

As you and Taehyun load your many bags of snacks into the trunk of your car, it finally hits you.

You’re going to be spending the night with him for the first time. You’ve never spent the night with a boyfriend before, much less even had a boyfriend before, period.

Your CRJ marathon continues as you drive back to Taehyun’s apartment. Want You In My Room starts to play and the heat rises in your cheeks. You try to keep your cool as the song plays. You’re having good conversation, but of course it settles to silence in the middle of the first chorus.

♪ I wanna do bad things to you / Slide on through my window / (I want you in my room) / Baby, don’t you want me, too? ♪

You get flustered and quickly switch to the next song.

“Subtle,” Taehyun remarks and you want to bury yourself in your steering wheel.

Despite your prior embarrassment, Taehyun has your back pressed against the wall the moment his front door shuts behind you. His hands slide up your waist and to the side of your neck as his lips press against yours.

He kneels in front of you and runs his hands up your legs and under your dress to play with the tops of your sheer tights.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, running his his hands down to rest on the backs of your thighs. He’s so breathtaking from this angle, looking up at you with those eager, glittering eyes.

His breath is fanning against your thigh, sending tingles up your spine and making you dizzy. Every cell in your body is urging you, screaming at you to say yes.

And yet…

“Wait,” you say, breathing a little heavily. “I… uh, I-I didn’t shave.”

“That doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me,” you emphasize, sounding more offended than you intended. Taehyun pauses to look at you for a moment before the warmth of his hands slowly leave your body. You feel a pang of guilt and offer a meek apology as he rises to his feet.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

But that’s the problem. You do want to, you really really want to.

But there’s a massive roadblock that always stands in your way whenever situations like this arise.

A roadblock called inexperience.

You change into your pajamas and spend the rest of the night watching competitive cooking shows on Netflix while gossiping about your work lives and sharing snacks like you’re two kids having a sleepover.

You fall asleep on the couch snuggled into his side and you’re stirred awake by his movement.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says sleepily. He helps you up from the couch and you can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you realize you’ll be sleeping in the same bed together for the first time.

Once it dawns on you that you’re sleeping together, you’re too giddy to possibly fall asleep. You say goodnight when Taehyun falls asleep, but you’re still up, taking in the atmosphere of his bedroom. He has blackout curtains but a small, round galaxy lamp casts shadows on the ceiling and grants the perfect amount of light to the room. Everything smells like him, floral and woodsy like his cologne, but also like the lavender scent of his hair shampoo.

You could imagine yourself here more often.

When you wake up hours later, all you can do is stare at Taehyun’s sleeping face. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, even with his mouth slightly open and messy hair.

“Morning,” Taehyun says. His morning voice is so sexy, it warms up your entire body. He throws an arm over you and snuggles you closer. You’re close enough for the tips of your noses to touch, close enough to hear his breathing.

“G’morning,” you say then kiss the tip of your boyfriend’s nose.

“I made a brunch reservation for 10:00,” he says. “It’s a quarter to 9 now, so we have time.”

“Time for what?” you ask.

“Time for this,” Taehyun pounces on you and kisses you. You kiss him back and things get heated pretty quickly with his tongue making its way past your lips and into your mouth.

Your heart catches in your throat when you feel his morning wood poking at your inner thigh.

“Wanna make a mess before we get ready?” he asks, his tone suggestive as he slips his fingers past the fabric of your worn t-shirt. Your heart is hammering in your chest as the warmth of his hand against your waist makes you dizzy.

“I-I think we should start getting ready,” you say, shying away from Taehyun’s touch. He looks a bit disappointed but ultimately does what you say and removes his hands from your body.

You quickly get up to get your clothes for the day and go to take your shower.

The rest of the day is awkward, to say the least.

You and Taehyun walk back from brunch. You reach for his hand and hold it, but he doesn’t hold yours back. Taehyun, the chronic hand holder, not reaching for your hand as soon as you left the restaurant already raised a red flag, but him not holding your hand at all?

You get back to his place and take a seat on the couch. Taehyun sits on the couch too, but not immediately next to you. And at first, you chalk that up to him needing a bit of space. It’s not like he was icing you out, he wasn’t kicking you out, after all. He was still in the same room with you, just a little more quiet and distant than usual.

He’s pretty quiet for the rest of the day, giving you tacit responses when you ask questions and giving a half-hearted laugh when you try to tell a joke or make him laugh.

You finally notice things are wrong when he’s cooking dinner. You wrap your arms around his waist and he exhales through his nose.

“Now you want to touch me?” he asks. Your heart breaks a little as you let go of him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

Oh, so now it’s back to the short responses?

“No, it’s not nothing,” you say, it’s impossible to hide that you’re upset. “What did you mean?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asks. Where did this tone come from? He sounds like he’s joking, but not really. It’s really setting you off.

“Clearly there’s something I’m not getting,” you say.

“Then maybe you need some time to figure it out. Time away from me.”

You’re taken aback.

“Taehyun, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you should probably go,” he finally turns to face you and his face is devoid of any warmth. When he looks at you with those cold eyes, it’s like the warmth leaves your body as well.

You search his face for any inkling of mirth or signs of him joking, but you don’t find any.

He really wants you to leave.

“Fine, I have work tomorrow anyway,” you stuff your clothes back into your bag, and storm out of Taehyun’s apartment without even a second glance. He doesn’t even look at you as you leave.

You walk to your car, not being able to hear much over your heart pounding in your ears. By the time you’re seated behind the wheel, your heart plummets.

It hits you that you’ve hurt your boyfriend’s feelings big-time. You didn’t need to see him on your way out to know that.

You can’t even bring yourself to start your car. You sit behind the wheel and hold back your tears until you can’t any longer, tears spilling down your cheeks while you mentally beat yourself up for having done this. Why were you so afraid? Why were you going out of you way to drive a wedge between the two of you?

It’s like you wanted him to hate you.

You check your phone at every red light, hoping and praying that he reaches out to you first, but to no avail. No message, no phone call, nothing from him.

A sinking feeling festers at the pit of your stomach. You’re not sure if you even want to go home, but you can’t think of anywhere else you could go.

Your housemates Jihyo and Nayeon are sitting in the living room laughing at something on TV and you know you’ve tanked the energy the moment you step through the door.

“You’re back,” Jihyo greets from the couch. “How’d it go?”

“It was… nice,” you say, voice strained.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, clearly detecting that something’s wrong.

You can already feel the tears returning and you can’t stop them from falling. You break down into sobs and both Jihyo and Nayeon get up to console you. They lead you to the couch to sit down and you tearfully explained everything that has led up to this point.

“I hurt him,” you say between sobs and Nayeon rubs your shoulder. “He’s never gonna speak to me again.”

“Did he say that?” Jihyo asks.

“No, but he didn’t need to. Ever since this morning, he’s been tiptoeing around me and walking on eggshells trying not to upset me. He didn’t touch me, he didn’t even sit near me. He probably thinks I hate him.”

“Sounds like he thinks you’re mad at him,” Nayeon suggests.

“I’m not mad at him, I’m just.. scared of messing up.”

“Why are you so scared of going through with it?”

“I-I don’t think I’m ready. It’s something I want, but I don’t feel ready. There are only so many articles you can read and videos you can watch in preparation. Nothing compares to actual experience, and until meeting Taehyun, I’ve had none. What if I do something wrong? What if there’s something wrong with the way I smell or the way I taste or I can’t get into the right positions or—”

“—Y/N, no one’s first time is perfect,” Nayeon says. “The only way it can be close to perfect is by communicating with each other.”

“Right,” Jihyo adds. “Just like how you can’t read his mind, he can’t read yours either. You have to talk things through with him, even if it’s hard.”

You fall silent.

“Does he know he’s your first?” Jihyo asks.

You shake your head, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Y/N, you should tell him,” Nayeon says. “He should understand, he loves you.”

“After tonight, I’m not so sure he does. I don’t wanna lose him.”

“Please, you should see the way he looks at you,” Jihyo says. “He looks at you like you hung the moon and put every star in the sky. You’re not gonna lose him over this, just talk it out.”

You keep Jihyo and Nayeon’s words in mind as your fingers hover over your phone screen the following afternoon.

You have to do this, it’s now or never. A knot forms in your throat as you begin to type.

you: Hey are you busy tonight? I want to talk

taehyun: We’re talking now

you: No I wanna talk to you in person

you: If that’s okay

you: We can meet at that cafe you like

taehyun: That’s fine I have time after work

you: Okay see you then

He doesn’t respond and your entire body gets tense. Jihyo wasn’t wrong about this being hard.

You end up arriving first, standing outside the café with your hands in your pockets mentally hyping yourself up for this difficult conversation. You can do this. It’ll be hard but it’s important for your relationship.

You spot Taehyun from the corner of your eye and walk toward him, greeting him and giving him a hug. He doesn’t hug you back, that on its own worries you, but you try not to let it discourage you.

“How are things?” you ask from the across the table.

“Fine,” he says. His tone is so cold, not like the playful kind of cold tone he uses to tease you, but genuinely cold, distant even. A frigid silence settles between the two of you and your throat tightens.

“I wanna apologize for last weekend,” you start. “I didn’t mean to be so weird.”

“It’s fine,” Taehyun says, his voice is tense and it unsettles you.

“No, it’s not fine. I hurt you when I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry.”

Taehyun is unusually quiet, part of you wants to ask him why but you also want to give him the proper space to think.

"Y/N, be honest. Are you trying to break up with me?"

That question hits you like a slap in the face.

"What?"

"Whenever I try to touch you, you always push my hands away, change the topic, or run away. This didn’t start with last weekend, it’s been going on for a while now and I don’t know if I can take it anymore. What am I doing wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. Taehyun, you're not doing anything wrong."

"Then why are you pushing me away?"

"I’m not pushing you away, I just…" you hesitate, looking down at your hands then back up at Taehyun, who's looking at you expectantly. He’s a bit upset, but it's clear that he wants to hear what you have to say for yourself.

The thing is, you aren't completely prepared to say it. You swallow, fighting the dryness seizing your throat.

"I’ve spent all my life feeling invisible. My friends had their first kisses before I did, got married before I did, started having kids before I did while I couldn’t even get a date. I felt like time was running out for me, and then I met you. Taehyun, you make me feel seen. Being with you makes me feel like the lovesick teenager I never got to be. Before we got together, I'd never had a boyfriend, been on a date, held someone's hand, or had my first kiss. You've been my first for everything, but whenever sex comes into play, I-I get scared.”

“Scared?”

“Scared that I won’t measure up, scared of how you’d react. You’ve had years of experience with different partners while I just bought a vibrator for the first time this year. Can you believe it? 25 and I just bought my first sex toy,” you say with a wry laugh. “You make me so happy, Taehyun. There’s no one else I’d rather have my first time with, but the thought of disappointing you or making you slow down for me hurts too much. I don’t want to do that to you."

There’s a long silence between the two of you. Taehyun pulls you into a tight hug. You’re startled at first, but you soon close your eyes and wrap your arms around him in return.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighs. “I’m- I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Another thing you’ve learned to love about Taehyun is his firm belief of actions speaking louder than words. The way he holds you tight in this café speaks for him perfectly. Sometimes words aren’t needed and this is one of those times for him.

“Let’s make some plans,” Taehyun says, determined. “I’m gonna give you the best first time you’ll ever have.”

As the week progresses, Taehyun texts you asking about your sexual preferences, your kinks, anything you’d like to try, and you answer to the best of your abilities. You blush when he tells you the things he’d like to do to you.

Things like tying you up, spitting in your mouth, overstimulation, the works. He emphasized that he’d only do these things if you want him to, but little does he know that you’d let him run you over with a tractor as long as he called you his princess while doing it.

But maybe you’ll reserve those for after your first time. Baby steps.

You open your underwear drawer and the tip of your one and only vibrator is staring you right in the face.

You stare at it for a good minute, wondering if you should bring it along on your journey. You suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea and tuck the toy into your purse.

You throw on your best dress and heels and make your way out the door. Your heart is beating at a thousand miles a minute but talking things through with Taehyun all week combined with your housemates’ good luck texts this morning give you all the confidence you need.

Your heart is pounding as you walk down the narrow hallway of his floor and get closer to his apartment. You knock on the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly dressed down Taehyun. He’s got a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants on, a far cry from the glam look you decided to go with for today.

“Wow, you got all dressed up for me?” Taehyun wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you.

“I feel so overdressed,” you confess.

“Don’t worry, that won’t matter later,” he says with a smile and your cheeks burn. He leads you to his bedroom, but you can hardly wait to touch him, to kiss him, to feel him.

You don’t even make it to the bed before you pounce on him, pressing his back to his bedroom door and kissing him hard. He leans into it almost automatically as his hands find your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

“Have I ever told you how sexy your legs look in tights?” Taehyun asks, running his hands up your legs.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it a couple hundred more times.”

“As you wish,” Taehyun kisses your neck and his hands go to the tops of your tights. He peels them off of your legs and casts them to the side. He sucks on the skin of your neck and you sigh at the sensation as he leaves a few pretty hickies behind.

His hands trail up your ass and to the invisible zipper on the back of your dress. Your heart skips a beat as you feel your dress slowly fall off of your body and pool around your feet on the floor. Taehyun grabs your shoulders and turns you toward the full-length mirror. He snakes his arms around your waist to hug you from behind.

”God, look at you,” Taehyun whispers against your skin. “I can’t believe no one’s gotten their hands on you yet. How did I get so lucky?”

Taehyun sits at the end of the bed and pulls you down onto his lap so that you’re still facing the mirror.

“Lift your hips,” he says into your ear. You do as your told and lift your hips so he can take your panties off. Once he rolls them down your thigh, you wriggle out of them and kick them off to the side. Taehyun unhooks your bra and pulls it off of you, letting it fall to the floor next to your underwear.

It’s a little embarrassing, sitting in his lap completely naked while he’s fully clothed.

Taehyun explores your naked body with his hands, fingers dragging up your thighs to your stomach to squeeze your breasts. You close your eyes and relax into his touch, feeling every individual callus on the skin of his palm. He slides his thumb over your bottom lip and you sigh, granting him access to your mouth. He shoves two fingers into your mouth and your tongue lazily swirls around his fingers before you begin to suck on them.

“That’s it, princess. You’re a quick learner,” he says and you tingle from his praise. He thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth and you suck on his digits with every movement.

After a minute or so, he pulls them out of your mouth with a wet pop. Your eyes shoot open when you feel his saliva coated fingers in your pussy. Your back arches from the sensation and you make a noise you’ve never heard yourself make before. Taehyun chuckles.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers and kisses the shell of your ear. “So wet already and we’ve just barely started. I can’t wait to make a mess of you.”

He grabs your jaw with his free hand and turns your head to face the mirror head-on.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror for me.”

You obey, but it’s so hard. Your vision goes blurry as you watch as his fingers thrust in and out of your wet, throbbing entrance. He curls them in just the right way to have you moan so loudly that you shock yourself. You throw your hand over your mouth, but Taehyun quickly removes it.

You've never seen or heard yourself like this before. He’s driving you absolutely wild.

His erection presses against your ass and when you grind against it, his breath hitches.

He rubs at your swollen clit with the heel of his palm. It’s enough to have you clamping your legs shut and squirming in his lap. Taehyun uses his free hand to hold your leg open as he continues to tease your clit at that same, excruciatingly slow rhythm.

You come undone, high pitched moans leaving your lips as you writhe in his lap and he holds you in his strong arms. He continues to finger you through your orgasm until you’re reduced to a panting and whimpering mess.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You’re so good, princess.”

You go limp in his arms and he holds you, closing his eyes and burying his face in your bare shoulder.

“Are you okay? Do you have enough energy to get on the bed for me?” he asks. You nod and he helps you up anyway, taking your hand and getting you properly seated on the bed.

You sleepily watch as Taehyun slowly undresses, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it into the nearest laundry basket. He pulls a foil packet from the pocket of his sweatpants and places it on his nightstand.

And then, suddenly, you have a lightbulb moment.

“Can we try something?” you ask.

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “In the mood to experiment already?” You nod shyly and he leans in, eager to listen.

“Can you get my vibrator from my purse? I want you to use it on me.”

It’s a simple little thing, a pink silicone rabbit vibrator about five inches tall.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, hand resting on your thigh.

You shrug, “I don’t know, be creative.”

“How about you show me how you use it?” he tosses the device to you and your mouth goes dry.

“You’ve used it on yourself before, right? I want to watch you use it.”

You’re frozen in place as the gears in your brain slowly turn in an effort to process what he just said.

“You’re already naked, love. Just get in the usual position you’re in when you use it. I won’t judge you, I promise.”

You’re hesitant but you eventually roll over onto your stomach and shift onto your knees so that your ass is in the air and your face is buried in the softness of one of the memory foam pillows. It smells just like his shampoo, you close your eyes and bury yourself in the scent until your eyes suddenly snap open and you remember what you’re in the middle of.

You can’t see Taehyun but can you feel his eyes on you and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m waiting,” he says in a teasing tone and your face heats up. You press the button at the bottom of the vibrator to turn it on and hold it against your pussy, not yet sliding it inside. You take a breath and rub it against your slit, your thighs twitching when it brushes by your sensitive clit.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

You jolt at the question, already feeling flushed.

“Don’t be shy, you can tell me. It’ll be our little secret.”

He must think he’s so funny. It’s hard to concentrate, your mind is already foggy as you try to focus on your own pleasure while trying to put on a good first show for your boyfriend.

“Put it inside,” he says, softly but commanding. You do as he says, mewling as you push the silicone toy into your dripping core.

“Do you imagine me fucking you?”

Taehyun hovers over you, his toned chest pressing against your back. He kisses your shoulder and slides a hand down over your busy hand, helping you to thrust the vibrator in and out of you.

“It doesn’t compare to me, does it? Doesn’t stretch you out and fill you up like I can, either.”

The mere thought of having him inside you is enough to turn you on even more. Your pussy tightens around the toy, but he’s right. It isn’t enough. You want— no, you need more.

You need him.

“What’s wrong, princess? Can’t cum? Not even with me helping you?”

Your eyes are brimming with tears, you’re so close yet overstimulated at the same time and you’re not sure you can take this any longer. You wordlessly shake your head.

“Want my cock instead?” he asks and you nod fervently. He pulls the vibrating toy out of you and the vibrating sensation that initially numbed your pussy is replaced with the head of Taehyun’s cock. You whimper and he kisses your shoulder.

“Let me know if I need to slow down, okay?”

You give a nod and he plants another kiss on your shoulder before aligning his cock against your pussy and pushing into you. You hiss, hands tightly gripping the cotton sheets beneath you as you feel him slowly fill you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, stretching around him burns, but the pain slowly starts to settle in the boundary of pleasure as Taehyun slowly slides into you until he bottoms out.

You’re pretty sure you’ve elevated to higher plane. You can feel every curve and vein of his length inside you, he fits you so perfectly.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice soft as a feather.

“Mhm,” you sigh. “Feels so good…”

“Mm, that’s my girl,” he rubs your thighs and up towards your stomach. “Relax, okay? I’ll take good care of you.”

You steady your breathing for a moment before he drags his length out of you and plunges it back in. He thrusts particularly deep and hits a spot that has you drooling and grabbing the sheets until your hands start shaking.

“Fuck, Taehyun…!” you cry.

“I’m here, princess. I’m here,” he says soothingly. “You’re doing so good.”

He continues to pound into you, hitting that same spot over and over, it feels so good you could cry. His girthy cock is filling you up, stretching you out so perfectly; you can’t imagine why you waited so long for this, but you’re so glad you’re experiencing it now.

Your entire body runs hot and your thighs quake as you feel a pressure building in your hips.

“T-Taehyun, I’m… ‘m- shit, I’m so close,” you squeak.

“Cum for me, princess. I want you to fucking drench me,” Taehyun says, thrusting faster. “Come on, give it to me.”

You cum so hard that your entire body shakes and your voice breaks. You call Taehyun’s name over and over like it’s a prayer and he holds you tight. Your reaction is enough to push him over the edge as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You’re mine, no one else can have you,” he breathes, thrusting in you faster and faster until he finally cums. You shudder at the way his cock swells inside of you. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath.

“C’mere, I wanna look at you…” Taehyun pulls out and turns you over on your back so that he’s hovering over you. The outline of his toned body has your heart racing. It’s only been seconds but you already miss the feeling of him inside you.

“You’re so pretty,” he leans in to kiss your forehead and you instantly get butterflies. He falls onto you and you wrap your arms around his waist. You lay there for a minute, still catching your breath until your breathing is in sync.

“Y/N, I want…” his words trail off, he looks flustered. You silently urge him to continue and he gives you a shy, hesitant look you’ve never seen before.

“You might not have been my first, but I want you to be my last,” he confesses. “I know it might be too soon to say it, but I—”

Before Taehyun can continue, you grab his face and kiss him. It’s clumsy, your faces mush together in an awkward kind of way but you can’t help the way you’re feeling. All the admiration and fondness you have for him overtook you like a tidal wave. You separate and he stares at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, continue.” you apologize, breathless. Taehyun looks at you with amusement.

He chuckles, “No, I think that spoke for me just fine.”

“Come on, say it.”

“Are you gonna interrupt me again?”

“Only if you want me to,” you say with a suggestive raise of your eyebrows. Taehyun laughs, it sounds like the ringing of bells.

“I love you, Y/N. I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re mine.”

You smile, holding back your tears of happiness, “I hope you know there’s no getting rid of me now that you’ve said that.”

“Wouldn’t want that for the world,” Taehyun kisses you and lays his head on your bare chest. You run your hands through his hair.

“I love you, Taehyun. I love you so much.”

#taehyun fic #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader #txt smut #txt fic #crystal's fics #terry bear 🐻‍❄️❤️‍🔥 #bye this was so much fun to write

[linkvcr]

doodles of gratitude (part 1) by @arecaceae175 :D

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu wild #lu sky #my art #go read it. NEOW #been meaning to draw this since it came out but alas...[< forgot] #surprisingly very hard to draw a gratitude crystal going into someones body tbh #anyway. weeeeeeeeeee i love this fic so bad so far AUGHHHH #hope u like it o7

[thecreelhouse]

crystal clear

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

WC: 14k (i am so sorry)

Summary: What started as friends “helping” one another out, turns into something much more than either of you anticipated. Secrets are revealed, mistakes are made, and confessions are confessed.

This is the 3rd and final part of this lil unnamed roommate trilogy! You can find part one and part two here!

CW/Tags: language, smut, PiV sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), cum play, super brief anal play, free use, praise kink, humiliation kink, switch!steve & switch!reader, cockwarming, choking, jealousy, angst. Lots. Of. Angst., hurt/comfort everywhere, internalized biphobia, weed mention, happy ending i promise!!

A/N: this took way longer to write than I expected, and apologies for the late post, I had too many technical difficulties 😭 major thanks to @stevenose for hyping this up and helping me on some parts<3 this one’s long as hell, and there’s a LOT going on, but I hope y’all that enjoyed the first two like this one as well. thank you for the support on the others!! <3 title is from a hayley williams’ song by the same name lol.

“Is it weird yet?”

The first time either of you asked the question in the backs of both of your minds, Steve had you bent over the bathroom sink, pulling your hair, forcing you to watch as he railed into you relentlessly.

You can’t remember who asked first, but neither of you answered it. Not out loud, at least. You were too busy moaning Steve’s name to worry about the question.

“Isn’t this kinda weird?”

The question came from you, after Steve came home from a failed date, a failure you silently celebrated. He was in a funk, not expecting anything, but you offered, so how could he say no?

Because turning down the offer of you riding him until he cried—his request, comfortably carried out by you enjoying the mini power trip over your roommate, seemed foolish. You did your best to hide how smug you felt that Steve’s date didn’t work out, so when you offered to cheer him up, and he begged on his knees to touch you, you’d be insane to turn down the opportunity.

“People do this? But that’s… weird, isn’t it?”

 “So… what if you’re not in the mood? ‘Cause I don’t wanna initiate anything when you’re not feeling it. Like, I get that’s the whole point, but I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable—”

You’re laying on Steve’s bed, the morning after fucking around when you got home from the bar. It didn’t last long, with the two of you too drunk, too tired, getting handsy but being clumsy messes while laughing and falling over one another multiple times.

Instead, you fell asleep in his arms, and you wanted to kick yourself for it.

You’ve been trying to distance your feelings from whatever kind of roommates-with-benefits dynamic had appeared between the two of you, but fuck it wasn’t easy.

“What if I wear something specific when I’m cool with it?” You suggest, tugging on the scrunchie on your wrist. “If I have this on my wrist, you’re free to do whatever.”

Steve was leaning against his dresser, arms crossed as his eyes were glued to your figure, barely covered by an old shirt of his while it clung to the softest parts of you.

He wishes you didn’t look so goddamn cute in his clothes.

“Uh— yeah. Yeah, that works, I guess— ” Steve pauses to overthink. Again. “Are you sure this isn’t too weird?”

“Babe,” It slips out, making you stall as you sit up, clearing your throat to brush past it. “If I thought it was too weird, would I be the one to suggest this?”

Steve blushes, in the way where it’s so much red across his face, it blooms to the tips of his ears. He can feel it, brushing his hair over his ears, ignoring the look you give him.

“Right… Uh, so what should I do? Like, to show you I’m cool with it?” Steve’s puzzled on how this even works, or who would find this hot to begin with. Yet with each confession of what turns you on, the quicker it is for him to get harder with every, and probably any fantasy.

“You want a scrunchie too?” Steve rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t dim the red hue across his face. You giggle at how flustered he is while pulling a thin, black hairband from your other wrist, holding it out. “Would this work?”

Hesitantly, Steve takes the hairband before slipping it over his hand. “Okay, but… What if someone says something?”

You snort, “First of all, it’s just an elastic band. People won’t know. And if anyone’s inspecting your wrists that closely, they’re just fucking weird.” He slips it onto the other wrist, the one his watch is always on, hoping it blends in better. “Steve, now I can’t see it.”

He rolls it over his hand before stretching it between his fingers, playfully shooting it back your way. “Fuck it, I won’t use anything.”

“You sure? That’s— what if I did something when you’re not in the mood?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Immediately?”

“Immediately. I swear.”

You’ve appreciated how easy it’s been to talk about whatever either of you want, or don’t want. This roommates-with-benefits thing might’ve been awkward, still is if you’re being honest, but talking about boundaries from the start with Steve gave one less thing for the two of you to worry about. 

He rubs his jaw, lost in thought. “What’s it called again?”

“Free use, but If you’re not comfortable, or just want it to be one sided, don’t be afraid to tell me.” 

“N- no! ” Steve shouts quickly, immediately embarrassed by how desperate he sounds. “I mean… what’s off limits for you?”

You smirk, twirling the scrunchie between your fingers. “Nothin’. You?”

Steve exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Uh… I wanna say nothing, but… if something happens that I’m not cool with, or you’re not cool with, we can stop, right?”

“Yeah, Stevie. We’re not doing this if either of us aren’t into it. If I do something to you that you don’t like, tell me, okay? It’s just like fucking around any other time, but a lil’ more… exciting.”

With a scoff, he sits next to you on the bed, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were bored when we fuck. You never sound like you’re bored when you’re shouting my name.”

You elbow his side, ignoring the way your stomach flips, “Shut up, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How’d you even find out this was a thing?” His curiosity’s going to kill him someday, he just knows it, but he can’t stop himself from asking. “I doubt those romance novels get that filthy.”

“Um…” You retreat into yourself, growing shy. “I might have, like, a teensy tiny stash of some… movies… and stuff.”

Steve’s face lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“You? Since when?!” He’s smirking while regret sets in; should’ve kept that one to yourself.  “Wait. Why haven’t I seen you in the back at work?”

Laughing, you admit, “Steve, why the hell would I go where you work to rent porn? I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“Well— I- I wouldn’t make fun of you, y’know.”

Again, you bark out a laugh, “Bullshit, you totally would, especially if you saw wh—” You freeze eyes darting away as your laughter dies in your throat. Steve’s lit up like a fucking city skyline now.

Why, oh why did you have to be cursed with such a big mouth?

“Say it,” He taunts, a smirk growing on his face. “Tell me.”

“Harrington, I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

Steve nods a few times, like he understands, then shoots a mischievous look. “Where’s the tapes?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Neither was your vibrator dying, but look, it brought us to some good things, right?”

“Th- that’s different, Steve.” You can feel your face heating up, your skin prickling as he puts you on the spot, hand resting on your thigh as he studies your expression.

Leaning in, his voice drops low as he asks, “How different are we talkin’?” His palm is warm, long fingers already close to your heat without even trying.

“Steve…” The warning tone in your voice means nothing to him right now; your gaze follows the direction his hand heads in, inching closer to where you want him most. Where you always want him. Where you always need him.

You expect him to stop, but his fingers ghost over your cunt, covered by the sweet, heart-patterned fabric of your panties— his favorite pair. You shiver as he adds some pressure, slowly rubbing along your sensitive core.

“What, did talking about being used like a slut make you wet already?” Steve taunts, chuckling as you roll your hips forward, trying to chase the feeling he’s barely giving you. “Tell me where the tapes are, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to hold back any noises that might give him satisfaction and an ego boost. He mocks you with a pout and a whine.

“Well, guess I’ll have to find ‘em myself,” Before you can register what Steve says, he’s out the door and rushing to your room, while you’re left to shake yourself out of the fog of lust he left you in.

“H- hey! Don’t you fucking dare!”

When you make it to your room, Steve’s on his hands and knees, snooping under your bed. “Not there…”

“Steve, please, ju- just drop it.”

“Why?” He’s having way too much fun teasing you like this, but you’re embarrassed, wishing you could take your confession back. He’s casually opening drawers in your dresser, peeking inside each one with no success. “You wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t want me to see.”

 “I— there’s some stuff I wanna keep to myself, I didn’t mean to say anything.” You’re digging your nails into your palms as they roll into clenched fists.

“Thought you liked being humiliated?” When Steve brings it up, it’s part of the teasing, until he looks up to see your uncomfortable body language. He steps away from the drawer he was digging through before making his way to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” He comes over to you, cautious as he watches the way your fingers curl into your palms and tense into fists, while you look at the floor, trying not to cry. “I promise I didn’t see anything. And I- I’m sorry for invading your space.”

Steve looks ashamed, and you feel bad. He didn’t know your tears were serious, but you’re already consumed by your own emotions.

You finally look at him, bottom lip curled into a wobbling pout, eyes glassy, “Can I be alone for a bit?”

“You- Yeah, f’course,” Steve automatically wants to comfort you, but he fights it off, just like the time you came home after your awful day, giving you the space you need. “I’ll be…y’know… yeah.”

Steve gently shuts the door behind him, leaving you to cry in the comfort of your own solitude.

···························

A few hours pass, with Steve spending most of it curled up on the couch, trying to mindlessly watch a movie, but he can’t get his mind off of you. He feels horrible that he didn’t catch onto your emotions earlier. He was hoping you’d come out by now, but you’ve been holed up in your room since you asked him to leave.

In the few moments he wasn’t consumed by his guilt, Steve’s thoughts would be spinning, trying to figure out what was on those tapes that would make you so upset if he saw them. Maybe you were just into kink. He wouldn’t judge you for that, everyone’s got their own… interests. 

What if they contained something violent, or dark? Again, he wouldn’t judge you, but he’d be concerned for you and your safety. Then again, if it’s between two consenting adults, it’s none of his business.

Still doesn’t stop him from wishing it was his business.

All this time, up until the vibrator incident, Steve had every right to believe you were such a sweet, innocent person. Now, he’s not so sure, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Steve’s so wrapped up in his own spiraling thoughts, he doesn’t hear you open the door, or walk into the room. Instead, he notices you when you drop a cardboard box on the floor near him, startling him out of his layered overthinking.

“Holy fu— ” He sits up and rubs his eyes before locking his view with yours, heart sinking over how tear stained your face is. How swollen your eyes are. Had you been crying this whole time? “… Hi. What’s— are you— ” Steve’s unsure what to ask first: “what’s in there?” or “are you okay?”

You make it a point to sit on the floor, far from Steve. Crossing your legs underneath you, you’re beginning to pick at your nails nervously, unable to look at him.

“That’s what you were looking for earlier,” You rasp, fighting off another wave of tears. 

Steve’s tempted to rip the box open immediately, but he restrains himself. “Honey, if you don’t want me to see, it’s okay. I had no right to dig around earlier, even if I was just joking. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I- I’m so sorry I did. And if it makes you feel better to keep this to yourself, we can forget about all of this. I’ll never bring it up ever again.”

His sweet, apologetic rambling just makes this heavier for you to bear. You lean into your hands, face buried in your palms as you groan, frustrated. “Steve, sometimes I wish you were a dick, because it’d make shit like this so much easier.”

“What are you talking about?”

“At this point it’s just… look, it’s probably for the best you know about this, since we’re fucking around.” You murmur into your hands. “Let me know when you’re disgusted and want me to move out.”

Steve’s brows furrow, really concerned now. “I’d never… I don’t want you to leave. Why would you think that?” 

You sit up but look away from him, giving a weak gesture towards the box. “You’ll see.”

Again, Steve hesitates, but you look at the box as you still avoid his gaze, nodding in reassurance. “This isn’t a trick, or anything. I’m letting you— I’m showing you what you should know.”

So, carefully, he opens the box’s flaps one by one before peering inside; Steve slides off the couch and to the floor next to the box, pulling out a tape.

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before; some tacky porno, with sleazy cover art and a corny title. It’s got your standard, generic shot of a man fucking a woman from behind, with her hands bound in front of her and a blindfold over her eyes. 

“This…” He stops himself before finishing with ‘is nothing’, because maybe it’s still a big deal to you. “It’s not worth getting yourself upset over. Why’d you think I’d hate you for this?”

You shake your head. “That’s not the one I’m worried about. I didn’t take anything out, figured I might as well show you everything. Keep going.”

Steve sets the tape on the coffee table before reaching into the box again, pulling out another tape. Similar design layout, but the cover photo is of a woman sitting back, pulling her legs up and back with her, while a man slips a plug into her ass. Steve flips the case over, finding the same couple, positions switched while the woman rims the man.

Steve chokes down a moan, thrown off that you’d be into this, and yet, it’s still not shocking enough to him to warrant kicking you out.

“Y’know this isn’t that bad either, right?”

“Yeah, that’s not the one I’m— you’ll know it when you see it.” You murmur, looking over at Steve, clearing his throat as he adjusts himself on the floor, playing it off like he’s finding a comfy position to sit in. You wish you could tease him over this, but you hold off, knowing he’s going to hate you any minute.

Steve continues plucking tapes out of the box, examining each one, still unsure what would have you so distraught if he were to find out.

Bondage? No big deal. Choking? He kind of figured out you liked that the first time the two of you fucked. It’s common. Free use? You just broke that down for him, so it can’t be what has you upset.

One of the tapes has a few kinks sprinkled throughout; gangbangs, exhibitionism/voyeurism, orgasm denial, femdom—

“Jesus, this one’s got everything, huh?” Steve tries to break the tension, but you don’t laugh. “This… this was the one, right?”

You huff out a mirthless laugh, pulling your knees to your chest before resting your head on them. “I fucking wish, Steve.”

He can’t stand how hard this is hitting you right now. “I don’t need to know, not if it’s going to hurt you. Seriously, it’s your business, whatever it is, and that’s okay. We all have our secrets, right?”

“Jesus fucking christ, Steve.” You scoot over to him and the box, digging to find the one you’re worried about.

“Hey, wait— ” He holds your arms softly, looking into your cry-worn eyes, only making your bottom lip quiver again. “Seriously, you don’t… whatever you’re hiding isn’t for me to know, clearly. And I’m not going to take something that personal to use as leverage to kick you out— why would you even think that? I love living with you. No weird kink is gonna change that.”

The last part almost makes you laugh. Almost.

You wish the way he said he loves living with you didn’t make your stomach flip, either. Any other conversation, that'd be one of the sweetest things he’s ever told you, but you know that’s going to change once he’s too disgusted with you.

When Steve stopped you, your hands had already grabbed the tape. You pull it out, tossing it on the table before pushing yourself back, away from him as you anticipate the worst.

He’s quiet for a bit as you watch his eyes fall on the cover, taking in every detail, flipping it over to read whatever the corny summary says. He looks back at you and just shrugs.

Steve just fucking shrugs.

“Threesomes are… not a big deal. Like, at all.” He doesn’t say this to belittle you or your feelings, more to assure you that there’s worse to worry about than liking porn about threesomes.

You start crying again, silently, as you hug your knees to your chest again. “God, Steve, please don’t make me spell it out.”

As his brows furrow while looking over the tape again, he gives another shrug. “I feel stupid— ”

“You’re not stupid, I promise. I’m just scared to say it out loud to you.”

“Okay, two girls, one guy, having consensual sex together. I genuinely don’t g— ” It hits him, and he feels a little sick, not from your silent confession, not from the topic itself, but the fact he didn’t get it sooner. He hates how he dragged this out, only making you more upset. “... Oh.”

You’re not straight. You clearly still like men, but attraction doesn’t stop there for you. He glances down into the box, finding another tape, one of just two women together. It looks like the one peeking out under that is similar, too.

“Yeah. Yep, okay, there it is.” You push off the floor to your feet, sniffling. “Well, it was cool being friends and… whatever the fuck, but I’ll pack and get myself out as soon as I can.”

Steve scrambles to get up, following you down the hall as you head towards your room, beating you to the doorway. He stops in the frame, blocking you from retreating to the bedroom.

“We’re talking about this. You can’t just… you can’t just drop that and expect me to brush it off, or be disgusted with you. Neither are happening.” Steve’s tone is firm, but everything he says is with care. Your eyes well up with inevitable tears. “Hey, honey, look at me.”

You try pushing past him, but he refuses to let you in. “Stevie, p- please— ”

“No, enough with the hiding. I know this is scary to talk about, but please, don’t shut me out.” He moves into your room, gently pulling you in with him to sit on your bed. “Can I be cheesy and thank you for sharing something so personal? That’s not easy for anyone, but you still did. Even if you thought you had to, that took guts.”

You reach for a pillow to cry into, and Steve doesn’t stop you, just lightly hangs his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him instantly, hugging the pillow for a moment before abandoning it, wrapping your arms around him instead.

“I thought you’d hate me,” Your voice is so small and shattered; it kills Steve that your fear has been weighing so heavy on your mind and heart. “That’s why I was so scared for you to find the box.”

“Nothing could ever make me hate you, angel. I’m sorry I caused so much stress for you.” He hugs you tighter, wishing he could take back these last few hours.

“It’s not like you knew. I’m not mad at you, Steve. I should’ve told you sooner.”

That shouldn’t make Steve huff out a laugh, but it does. The noise he makes turns into a silent, shoulder shaking laugh as he holds you. You’re so confused.

“Steve, what the fuck? You just told me— th- this- none of this is funny.”

He tries to control his laughter, and he does, but only for a moment. A quick pause to kiss your forehead. You push him back, reading his expression, still bewildered.

”I’m sorry, I— ” He runs a hand through his hair as he stifles his laughter, more successful this time. “— lemme grab something quick, okay?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer, just gets up and rushes to his room, snickering a few times to himself. You’re left baffled.

What the fuck just happened? And what the hell is so funny?

There’s sounds of some movement floating out of Steve’s room, soft grumbles of “where the hell did I put that?” and “jesus this is heavy”, making you smile, ever so slightly. He’s only gone for a moment before he returns with an old milk crate, carrying VHS tapes and magazines, it looks like.

Steve sets it on the bed next to you. “This… this is funny.”

Your brows furrow, still trying to understand what the hell he’s talking about.

“You can look, y’know.”

Most of the content is tacky porn, just like yours, mostly straight couples—

Wait.

You’re about to grab a tape, one similar to the film you showed Steve; another threesome porno, but this one has two men, one woman. It doesn’t take you more than a second to get it.

You snap your head up to look at him, holding the tape up, lost for words. “Are you— shut up. You’re joking.”

Steve leans back against your headboard, hands behind his head, almost appearing smug, but he just finds the coincidence really fucking funny. Sure enough, he starts laughing again. It’s not cruel, nor does it have a sharp edge. It’s just his usual warm, sweet laugh.

“I’d never joke about this. I swear.” His smile is like sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds on a stormy day, making you feel comfortable, happy, even. You’re not alone in this, you don’t have to be. Feelings aside, Steve proves time and time again how thoughtful and kindhearted he is as a friend; a completely different person from who he tried so hard to be back in high school.

“You didn’t have to tell me— n- not that I’m upset you did, just hope I didn’t pressure you to say something by being such a crybaby.”

“No, no way. When you said you should’ve told me sooner, I figured well, shit, I might as well come out to you, too.” Steve admits, “Honestly, I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I was scared you’d hate me.”

Your heart sinks; why does coming out have to be such a nerve-wracking event? Sometimes even dangerous if you confide in the wrong person. You’re grateful that’s far from the case here.

“I could never hate you, Steve. Never ever.” Though sincere, your attention falls back on the crate, eyes dancing over all of the tapes and magazines when a certain photo sticks out like a sore thumb.

He notices the way you pause, eyes falling on the familiar white border of a Polaroid, peeking out among the mess of filth. He lunges to grab it, but you beat him to it. Your jaw drops with a gasp at the lewd image.

“Steve, this is— ” He reaches out to grab it, but you push back, stumbling as you stand before rushing across the room, Polaroid in your hands. You stare at the photo in awe.

Striding across the room, Steve makes his way to you, about to grab the photo from your grip, “Give it back— ” You hide it behind your back while you’re against the wall, tucked in the corner with a smirk.

“Fuck no, this is karma for making me cry,” You giggle, causing relief to wash over Steve. He’s not even mad about this. He’s just happy to hear you laughing after today. You spin around, head ducked against the wall, studying the photo. “You’re so pretty on your knees, Stevie.”

Steve ignores how your comment makes his stomach flip, sneaking his hands around you to snatch the photo back. Eyes rolling, he jokingly grumbles, “Yeah, yeah, you had your fun.” You twirl around, attempting to grab it back, but he effortlessly holds it high above your head. He tries playing off the blush that rises up his neck and to his cheeks over your comment.

You can’t help thinking, How’d you even fit that into your mouth?

Steve chokes on air, eyes wide, “W- what?”

Apparently, you think out loud now.

“M’sorry,” You whisper, cringing at yourself. Steve just shakes his head as he clears his throat between laughs. He ends up sitting at the edge of your bed, tugging you closer to him, hands in yours.

Glancing up, he locks eyes with you while softly asking, “Are you disgusted by me?”

You stare at Steve, unsure if he’s joking or serious. “What? Because you’re not straight? No way, why would you even ask— ”

He holds his arms out with a lazy shrug. “There ya’ go, there’s my answer to you, too.” It takes a minute for you to understand what he means.

Why does he always have to be a smug little shit when he’s right?

“Okay, wait. Why the fuck were either of us worried? We’re both still friends with Robin, even after she came out.” You and Steve lock eyes before bursting out into laughter. 

“It- it’s different when it’s just a friend!”

“Thought we were just friends.” Steve forces a teasing tone to his words, but maybe you’d answer differently this time.

“Well, yeah, but— it’s different since we’re fucking.”

So much for that.

It’s silent for a beat before Steve mutters, “We’re both morons.”

You smirk, “Now, that picture on the other hand, disgusts me,” Steve’s smile falters, your words making him nervous. “Because it looks like you’re totally better at deepthroating than I am.”

His jaw drops, face flushing red. “Okay, listen—” 

“That’s a compliment, I promise!” 

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Steve plucks the scrunchie on your wrist back, letting go to softly snap against your skin. “This still okay?” Your breath hitches as you nod, feeling a hand slide to the small of your back, bringing you even closer to him. 

“You- you don’t have to ask, that’s the whole point,” You rasp, trying to suppress the breathy, light groan threatening to break. 

“Oh, I know,” Steve gets up, smirking down at you over how flustered you look. “Just wanted to make sure.” He slides past you to reach for the crate of filth before leaving the room.

Resisting the urge to let out a disappointed groan, you mutter under your breath, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not,” Steve quips as he walks by your room. Now you groan dramatically, and he just laughs while making his way down the hall.

Two can play that game.

You find Steve in the kitchen, looking around in a drawer, until you come up behind him and slam it shut. Startled, he jumps, and you take the opportunity to flip him around to face you, hands grabbing his hips before pinning him to the counter.

“Whoa— ” Steve’s eyes are wide at the abrupt maneuver, “—what are y- you- oh, shit.”

In the blur of manhandling him, Steve didn’t realize his pants are already around his ankles, not until you begin stroking him slowly. He grips the edge of the counter as a shuddered breath slips out, watching you from under hooded eyes. 

You spit onto his length, coating his skin for a smoother glide, one that makes his hips buck roughly, challenging the grip you still have on one of them. When he settles down, you lick slowly along the underside of his cock, eyes locked on his as your tongue makes its way to the base, then down to his balls. 

As you begin lapping and sucking, Steve’s head falls back against the cabinet, a classic move you usually make; halfway through one of the prettiest moans he’s made yet , he grumbles an “Ow, what the fuck?”

Naturally, you laugh, but with him in your mouth, the sensation of your muffled sound replaces his ruined moan with another. “Fuck, fuck— honey, I- god, I need you.”

His words bring you back to his shaft, one hand toying with his balls, while another reaches around to squeeze his ass, all while you take him into your mouth fully. “H- ohmyfuckinggod,” Steve’s face contorts into an expression at the crossroads of being pained and absolutely blissed out.

While you bob up and down on his cock, making him rasp out an airy cry when he hits the back of your throat, your hand on his backside inches towards his taut, sensitive hole. 

He shivers, overstimulated by all three of your actions, “H- hey, angel, you… fuck… y’don’t gotta do th—” His words die on his lips, replaced by a throaty groan as your finger gently circles the tight ring; you moan around him, and he’s a goner, spilling into your throat without much warning.

You were going to leave him with a ruined orgasm, but another idea pops into your head.

“Fuck, fuck m’so sorry,” He’s babbling apologies as his hands fly to your head, holding you down onto his cock, still using your mouth as a personal cum dump. His chest heaves as his high winds down, hands letting up on your head, too.

Back on your feet, you kiss him roughly, but as he allows you in, you’re swapping spit with cum; surprised, he whines into your mouth as he pulls you against him, kissing back with a desperate, pathetic fervor. His fingers dig into your hips, tongue gliding along yours while he tastes himself. As you break the kiss, you murmur against his lips, glistening with the lewd slick, “Swallow.”

With a wicked smile, you step back and watch as he follows your command, adam’s apple bobbing before his mouth falls open with heavy pants.

You stretch up to kiss his cheek, whispering, “Good boy,” before turning on heel, leaving the room quiet, and a breathless Steve who feels filthy.

···························

The next day, you’re up early to catch up on some priorities, including some chores. You’ve got your headphones on while vacuuming, bopping around and (poorly) singing along to I Wanna Dance With Somebody while sweeping the hallway. Both the music and high pitched, droning suction of the vacuum block out any sound, especially Steve sneaking up behind you.

In one swift motion, he pulls your shorts down and pushes into you immediately. The surprise stretch makes you cry out in a little bit of agony, and a whole lotta’ bliss. You’ve got one hand on the nearest wall, while the other keeps you balanced on the vacuum handle as he lifts your leg to go deeper.

Steve rips your headphones off, “Are you always this fucking wet?”

You can’t answer, not with words, not when every and any thought has been fucked out of your head already. All you can do is whimper as your eyes roll back further with each rough slam into you.

The harder he thrusts, the closer you move to the wall, until you’re completely shoved against it. One hand wraps around your hip, the other tangles into your hair to pull you out and bend you over even more. All that holds you up is the wall against your chest, shoulders, and head, along with his grip, departing from their original spots to tug your arms behind your back and restrain them.

“Stevie…” 

“This what y’wanted? With your gross, little fantasy?”

You shake your head— not the easiest when you’re shoved against the wall— pouting, and Steve immediately slows down, almost completely. “What’s wrong?”

“More,” is all you can rasp out.

“More… what?” Ever so slowly, he begins to move again. It’s still not enough.

“H- harder,” You murmur, and Steve mockingly hums in understanding, shoving himself to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

“Was that it?” He’s asking but he knows the answer.

“Faster,” Your needy little whine is just what he wanted to hear.

His pace picks up, unforgiving while railing into you, “That’s my girl.” 

It doesn’t take much longer for Steve to climax, leaving you dripping, without release as he pulls out, satisfied. He swipes two fingers between your folds before they slip inside you, pushing his cum back into your entrance, laughing cruelly at the way you clench around him and groan tiredly. 

Steve pulls his fingers out and brings them to your face, tapping your lips with the sticky, pearly slick covered fingers. “Open.” You obey, and gag as he shoves his fingers back farther. They slip back out, and he squeezes your face, mocking you from the night before, “Good girl.”

As he retreats to his room, you’re left alone, still an aroused mess, barely holding yourself up against the wall while trying to catch your breath.

···························

In the last few weeks, you’ve grown more comfortable with less clothing around Steve at home. He’s not complaining, especially later that night, when Steve watches you pass his room with the infamous vibrator in hand. Your outfit of a comfy bralette and shorts earns a double take from him.

“Hey, where ya’ goin’ with that?” He smirks at the bothered look on your face, probably still wound up from being used like a toy earlier, abandoned without your own climax.

“Shut up, Steve.” You grumble, but still stop in his doorway, flicking the switch on the wand on and off. Nothing happens, and you pout. “I think it died.”

“So… put new batteries in?”

“No, it’s like, dead dead. This was the third round of new batteries I put in, and still, nothin’.” You sigh with a shrug, “Eh, good riddance, I guess.”

You’re about to leave when Steve murmurs, “Not like you need it now.” Your face heats up and something pulls in your lower stomach.

“I mean… I do.” You walk away, and Steve follows you out the door.

“Huh? Why? You’ve got me.” It’s supposed to be a teasing joke, but it comes out more sincere than Steve intended.

“I- I’m not gonna just expect you to be in the mood whenever I am and need to… y’know.” Flipping the garbage can lid open, you drop the defunct sex toy into the trash. “Thanks for the memories, you stupid, janky wand.”

Steve snickers, “Yeah, the best memory being the day you needed my help.”

Ignoring him, you grab a glass from one of the cabinets, heading to the sink, but he leans against the edge to block you from the faucet.

Steve smirks; this could be fun. “And no, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

“See, that’s why I like my vibrator. It can’t sass back like a certain someone.”

“There’s many ways to shut a certain someone up.” You shove Steve aside and he scoffs. “Alright, well, next time you need to get off, don’t come crying to me.”

When he leaves, he ends up in the living room, turning the TV on before flopping onto the couch.

You frown and crinkle your brows as you shut the faucet off, muttering in a mocking tone, “Don’t come crying to me. Blah blah blah.”

“Heard that,” Steve flips you off, and from where you’re standing in the kitchen all you see is his arm shooting up above the couch, making you giggle. 

“Wasn’t trying to hide it.” You shuffle over to the couch, about to sit on the opposite end of Steve, but he lets his arms fall open lazily, looking at you expectedly. “What?”

“C’mere,” He whines, forcing a pout. 

You narrow your gaze, setting your glass on the table. “My vibrator wasn’t this needy, either.”

Steve leans forward, grabbing your hand as he pulls you back down near him. You yelp, landing next to him, fidgeting a bit to get comfortable. “Yeah, well, your vibrator wasn’t this hot, so is it really that much of a loss?” His arm hangs over your hip, while the other reaches for your back; he traces mindless patterns along your exposed skin, prickling as you shiver.

With your back to the TV, its glow slips over you and onto Steve, illuminating his features as the two of you grow into a comfortable silence, as your hands lazily wander his body. It’s only sweet, gentle caresses from the both of you, something you wish you could get used to. Something, a small, mundane detail you wish the two of you had in a relationship. 

Except, there is no relationship, and you have to remind yourself often you can’t become more attached and attracted to Steve than you already are.

You’re just friends.

“This is… kinda nice,” He murmurs as you duck your head under his chin, cuddling closer.

Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

“Y’know, if you ever just wanted to, like, hang out like this… I’m cool with it if you are.”

“‘Hang out’, I didn’t know cuddling had a new name,” He softly teases, embracing your frame. “Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask you something, you got a minute?”

“No, Harrington, I’m actually late for a meeting at…” You turn over to read the wall clock, glancing back at Steve, “… 8:36 p.m. We can reschedule for tomorrow though!”

“You’re the worst.”

“But I’m the best at being the worst, right?”

He doesn’t answer, just gives a drawn out, exasperated sigh before letting his head fall forward, onto your shoulders while he sneakily pushes his pants down. Just enough to free himself. He rests there for a few moments before he pulls the fabric of your shorts aside, teasing the head of his cock at your entrance. You whimper and push back against him right as he guides himself into you. The stretch, as always, renders you silent as you adjust to his size.

“Is this what I have to do when you won’t shut up?” His arm winds around your neck, bringing your back flush against his chest; he’s not choking you, but when his arm flexes around your throat, your walls constrict around him. “Yeah, thought so.”

You wait, but no movement comes. No rocking his hips into you, no slow, teasing thrusts; Steve just lays behind you, buried deep in you, enjoying the way you squirm.

“I wanted to get you off to make up for earlier, y’know, just trying to be a good friend,” The last two words came out with an edge. “Trying to reward you for being such a good little fuck toy,” His arm tightens a bit, adding the tiniest bit of pressure; you throb around him, shuddering. “But now, I think you can just keep me warm instead.”

“Steve, please… I- I‘ll be good, I’ll be so good,” You babble, desperate for some kind of movement, some kind of friction, anything. He tightens his hold on you a little more, laughing breathily into your ear as you try moving. You gasp, “Touch me, p- please?”

“I’m already touching you.”

“That’s not what I mean!” You’ve got a short fuse when he riles you up just to drag out the teasing.

Just like the first time, neither of you know when to quit.

“Okay, so what do you mean?”

Whether it’s from the teasing now, or being used earlier. Maybe it’s both, mixed with the feelings you have for Steve that are getting too overwhelming. Whatever the case, you get pissed off enough to touch yourself instead.

“I didn’t say— ”

“I don’t fucking care what you didn’t say, if you’re not gonna do it, I will.”

Sometimes the tension makes you mean, and it’s something Steve likes, but refuses to admit, with his words, at least.

His throbbing cock inside of you, on the other hand, has no problem telling the truth.

“Well, fine, guess you don’t need me then,” Steve’s arm loosens from your neck as he begins to slip out, but with all of your strength, you reach back to hold him in place. It’s an awkward position, sure to make your arm sore tomorrow. You open yourself up a little more, throwing a leg back over his.

“You’ve been teasing me non-fucking-stop, asshole. Least you can do is stay while I get off.” Your fingers try finding a satisfying pattern to tease your clit with, but you’ve been so spoiled with your stupid toys, and Steve, it doesn’t feel the same. Doesn’t feel as good.

You can feel the smirk Steve makes as he leans against your shoulder, looking over to watch your hand and fingers struggle to keep you blissed out.

“Aw, honey, is it too hard for you?” He kisses the back of your shoulder, then slowly makes his way with more up your neck. Your breath shudders as you clench around Steve, just from his words alone. “Doesn’t feel as good as that toy, huh?”

You can feel hot tears begin to surface; you’re angry that you can’t make yourself feel good, angry that he’s taunting you after trying to take over and show him you didn’t need him.

But you do need Steve, and that’s been fucking with you so much since the first time the two of you kissed. That alone had you soaked, but right now, your own fucking hand isn’t cutting it, and you’re angry at how embarrassing this is.

Sure doesn’t stop Steve from humiliating you, though. “Doesn’t feel as good as my hands, hm?”

You bite your lip, holding back groans of frustration, but Steve can feel how tense you are.

“Must not feel the same as my tongue. Not even close,” he murmurs into your ear, kissing the skin behind it, then back down to your jaw. “No way those fingers can ever feel like my cock.” He nips at your jawline, “I bet you can’t get rid of that ache between your legs, not without my help. You need me, don’t you?”

Steve slides his hands onto your chest, tugging the bralette down before roughly, yet slowly, grabbing you. He pinches your nipples, enjoying the view of you arching into his touch, whimpering as your hand slows down on yourself, defeated. 

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what, Steve?” You spit through gritted teeth. He grabs your face to bring your attention to him. Something flashes across his eyes at the sight of you near tears, not lust, not desire, but you can’t figure out exactly what it is. 

“That you need me.” You tighten around him, already giving your answer. He smirks, but again, something’s hidden behind that dominant exterior, past the pleasure over humiliating you. 

What the fuck is he hiding?

“I d- don’t,” You lie, but your wobbling pout gives you away immediately.

“Angel, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I can help you.”

You’ve abandoned touching yourself completely, exhausted and embarrassed. Holding one another’s gaze, there’s a softness in Steve’s eyes that makes you finally break. “I- I need you, Steve. Please?”

One hand still teases your nipple while the other slides down, down, down, reaching your waistband before he pulls out completely, causing you to whine in protest.

“Hang on, angel,” He pulls your shorts off completely, leaving you bare before gently sliding back into you, groaning, “Wanted t’really feel you.”

Sex with Steve has usually been rough, or fast, or both. It’s usually needy with desperation to get off. Sometimes there’s a fantasy one or both of you want to fulfill.

This… this is different. Just like the look Steve held, you can’t figure out what is different, but it’s not bad.

In fact, you might like this the most.

“You want me to move?” Steve asks, and it’s not cocky. It’s not the demeanor he was teasing you with before. 

“I don’t— do whatever, just need you to touch me,” Your whining is pathetic, but at least he finally reaches down to where you need him. His fingers slide between your folds, groaning when he meets the slick of your arousal. He’s slow, not painfully slow, rather careful as he thrusts into you. It’s soft, and you can feel every inch of him, really feel him.

“This okay?” His breathy question is just above your ear while he kisses along the shell of it.

“So, so okay.” This position might be your favorite, with the way he’s so deep in you, forcing your eyes to roll back into your head as he fills you completely. You lean back into him, and he takes one look at you before leaning in to kiss you, like he knew what you were silently asking for.

It’s soft, languid, the kind of kisses that make you squirm with a certain need, one he’s fulfilling right now.

Pulling back, his lips barely touch yours when he teases, “You’re s- so tight… y’really like it soft, huh?”

You only answer with a nod and a whimper, leaning in to kiss him again, but he moves back with a smirk. It’s not taunting, for once. He’s just really enjoying how turned on you are right now. How much he’s turning you on.

“I like it w- when we— god, fuck— when it’s…” You’re struggling to find the right words, fucked out already. Steve still watches you, listening intently as he can feel your walls pulse around him “… Intense, but this is s- so— oh!”

It’d almost be embarrassing how fast he can push you over the edge, but it feels far too good to care. You shake against him, tensing up as your head lolls back against his chest, jaw dropped in a silent moan. Then, it finally slips out, and it’s loud.

“Good girl,” Steve murmurs, kissing your temple. “Doing so— fuck— s- so good for me.”

Before you can even rest, he convinces you to let him keep going, give you more pleasure, murmuring how you’re ‘his girl’, how you can take one more, just ‘one more’.

By the third round, Steve’s question is long forgotten by both of you.

···························

“Why am I taking the backroads again?”

“It’s a… nicer ride. Just trust me.”

Steve drove along the lonely, winding road. The sunset began to blanket the sky in hues of oranges, purples, and pinks. 

“Okay, but… you know it’s a longer drive this way, right?”

You’re leaning over the seat to unzip his pants, and Steve freezes, but not before hitting the gas by accident. He only speeds up a little before catching himself. “Are you trying to kill us?!”

“I only touched your pants. Are you really that sensitive?”

“I- I just didn’t expect it— I’m driving and trying to be safe.”

“Yeah, and I bet you look both ways before making a turn, too.”

“I do!”

You pull his cock out, half hard already, and waste no time leaning down to lick up the precum already beginning to seep out.

“H- hey!”

You pull off. “What? Don’t want this? I can stop.”

“This- it’s just— unsafe.”

“Is that your only complaint?”

“Well… yeah, I gu— shit- ” Steve tries suppressing a moan as you take him in completely without hesitation, and the sound that leaves him just sounds strangled and pained. He white knuckles the steering wheel while your eyes water, gagging around him.

Not a soul to be found on the roads, and Steve’s still nervous he’ll hit something. Or someone. But you’re humming around him, and making these sweet, little gagging noises, he has to remove a hand from the wheel to pull you off of him.

With his strong hand, he yanks you back, still focusing on driving. “I thought you’d like this,” You pout, backing off as you settle back in your seat. “I’m sorry.”

“I do, but I- I think I like it a little too much. As much as I want you to finish, I need to make sure we get to Robin’s... Um, alive.”

“Okay, well… What are y’gonna do about that,” You point to his crotch, cock still hanging out of his pants, flushed red with need with precum still pearling at the tip.

Steve sighs, exhaling roughly through his nose, thinking for a moment as he drives on. He mutters a quick ‘fuck it’ before grabbing you by the hair to pull you back onto him. He doesn’t miss the mischievous smirk that flashes on your face before he shoves your mouth onto his cock.

“You— mnfph— that’s it, just— oh, g- god— relax, angel, relax that p- pretty throat f’me,” His cock twitches against your tongue, making you moan. “Wish I could fuck your face right now.”

Popping your mouth off of Steve, he catches a quick glance of your lips covered in your spit and some of his own mess, “Fuck…” You wrap your hand around his length, stroking him slowly.

“Kinda wish we did this on the highway instead,” You murmur as your lips attach to his neck, sucking the sensitive skin softly. Steve’s eyes almost flutter shut, but he forces himself to grip the wheel and keep his eyes on the road. “It’d be kinda hot, huh? Trying to do this without gettin’ caught.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Soooooo… If I keep going, can you finish before we get there?”

Steve’s answer comes in the form of his hand on your head, twisting his fingers into your hair before shoving you back down on his cock.

···························

It’s under an hour since you and Steve got to Robin and Vickie’s new place, where she said it’d just be a small, casual housewarming party, and two things have you incredibly bothered right now:

This party is anything but small— you didn’t think Robin even cared about this many people to invite them over.

Steve’s kissing someone else right now.

While wandering around to find Steve and ask if you could leave early, you stumbled upon Steve playing goddamn tongue hockey with someone else.

If it happened when you and Steve were just friends, you’d be happy for him, genuinely. Hell, even if the two of you were FWBs and you had no feelings for him, you’d be thrilled he felt comfortable enough to kiss someone tonight that wasn’t a cis woman.

Shit, you’d even be a solid wing-woman and cheer him on for any action. Yet your feelings for him just turned it all into envy. Nothing but envy coursing through your veins. You had no right to say anything in the first place, because it’s not like the two of you were actually together.

It still didn’t settle your jealousy, or the overthinking triggered by the mixed signals he’s given over the last few weeks. The audacity, too, for Steve to pull this only hours after you fucked… just one hour after you gave him road head—

Yeah, you had to leave, ASAP.

“Hey, where ya’ goin’?!” Robin slurred after you, too drunk to get up and check if you were okay.

So you just call over your shoulder, “This was fun, but I gotta go home!” And you knew damn well you weren’t fooling anyone with the way your voice wavered; you hoped everyone was too drunk or distracted.

The front door creaked open as you hurried down the porch steps, relieved to breathe some fresh air, at the very least. The soft song of the crickets in the woods kept you company.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, shielding yourself from the breezy spring air. You wish you didn’t leave your jacket in Steve’s car, but this was better than having to see him kiss someone else.

Until a familiar BMW pulls up alongside you on the empty street. 

Harder to shake than a cold.

Rolling the window down, Steve calls out, “Angel, why are you trying to walk home?”

“Don’t you have a throat to shove your tongue down, or something?”

Steve taps the breaks as he mutters, “Fuck.”

“Surprised y’all didn’t do that, either.” You continue on, and he continues following you in the car.

“Please, just let me drive you back? Don’t have to talk to me or anything.”

“No thanks, I can get home on my own just fine.”

Steve hits the breaks, sighing as he throws the car in park. He steps out of the car, leaning on the roof. “Yeah? What direction is home?” You spin around, walking backwards as you throw your arms out, exasperated. 

“Fuck you, Steve.”

He bites his tongue, resisting the urge to say some stupid shit like “Already did”; riling you up wasn’t the answer right now. You angrily point in the direction you’ve been walking, continuing on with all the confidence in your body. 

“Try again.” His remark makes you whip around, flipping him off, before marching on in the wrong direction again. 

Okay, he deserved that, at the very least.

Steve jogs to catch up to you, though it’s not like you made it very far, stumbling over your own feet. You’re about to lose your balance when Steve makes it to you, just in time, catching you mid-fall.

“Alright, c’mon,” He groans as he attempts to get you stable on both feet, before slinging your arm around his shoulders, and yours around his waist. He guides you back to the car, not giving into your little grumbles and protests as he helps you into the passenger seat.

An agonizing silence settles between the two of you on the ride home, and you’re not sure if you can break the silence without crying. So you don’t. Steve has no problem speaking up first anyway, otherwise, the silence will just send his anxiety skyrocketing.

“I’m sorry,” He sounds sincere, as always. He tears his eyes from the road for a moment to glance at you, only feeling worse when he can really see how hurt you are. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was like… that. With us, I mean. And I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” Your voice wavers with weakness, “I know what this was. I- I knew what we were getting into. If anyone should apologize, it’s me, ‘cause I had no right getting jealous.”

Steve forgets his response immediately, pausing a moment to take your words in.

“You were jealous?” He almost sounds pleased to hear you admit this.

Oh, god fucking dam—

“….. No?”

“You literally just said you got jealous.”

“I- I don’t— shut up. You misheard me.”

“Oh, I did?” Steve Harrington can be such a smug and snarky motherfucker sometimes. “What’d you say then? Just wanna make sure I hear you correctly this time, honey.”

You fire back, “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Should I just call you a brat instead?”

“You know what, Steve?” You glance over and he’s still smirking like an asshole. “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the ride. Or the rest of the night.”

His face falls. “Why not?”

You don’t answer, just cross your arms and tilt your view to the window, watching the world pass by.

“Are you really gonna shut me out? Over this?”

Again, you hold back any responses. Let him dig his own grave at this point.

“You’re the one who kept saying we’re just friends.” As he reminds you, his fingers are clutching the wheel tightly, eyes glued to the road. “You’re the one—“

“No, Steve. You are the one who said from the start friends can fuck around. You said ‘what are friends for?’ after you went down on me.”

So much for your petty silence.

“You continued it! You said ‘this is what good friends do for each other’, and that fuckin’ around is just helping each other out. How was I supposed to know you wanted more?”

Steve had a point. You tried lying to yourself that you ended up sending the wrong signals his way. 

“I— Look, I’m sorry I kissed someone else. And this doesn’t excuse hurting you, but did you ever think maybe I was doing my best not to fall for you?” As he pulls up to the apartments, he sinks into his seat, sighing. “I should’ve been honest from the start, or maybe should’ve ran out for batteries instead of fucking around with you and both of our feelings to begin with. I’m sorry.”

You’re exhausted and intoxicated, out of energy to continue this. Unable to look at Steve, you mutter, “Can we just… talk about this tomorrow?” There’s no chance for him to answer, because you’re already out of the car and making your way through the lobby and to the stairs. 

···························

Steve took his time returning to the apartment, wanting to give you space, but also in case he got upset enough to cry, too.

He was so, so fucked, and now… he fucked everything up. Sure, you didn’t make it crystal clear how you felt about Steve when you could’ve so much earlier. But it’s not like he did any better.

When he enters the shared space, everything’s dark, and quiet. He figures you went to sleep, since your bedroom’s door is closed. To his shock, though, he finds you asleep in his bed.

Maybe you mistook his bed for yours while being drunk and tired. Steve’s unsure if he should sleep on the couch, to give you more space. But maybe you fell asleep here purposefully. Or maybe you waited here for him and eventually passed out, too tired and upset to keep yourself awake.

You’re half covered by the blankets, wearing only your panties and his shirt again, the one you’ve practically stolen at this point. Steve notices your scrunchie still on your wrist, the subtle symbol you’d give if you were in the mood for free use play. He also notices the way your skin is prickling up; you’re definitely cold, but you’re too drunk to wake up and do something about it.

Steve reaches down and slips the scrunchie over your wrist, setting it on the nightstand, then pulls the covers over you. Immediately, you curl into the blankets, making the softest hum of contentment, falling deeper into sleep. 

Or so he thought.

As he changes and strips just to his boxers, Steve hesitates, questioning again if he should sleep here, or the couch. Consumed by trying to make the best choice, mainly for you, your hand reaches out and grabs his leg weakly.

“Stay?”

Your eyes are red, both from exhaustion and crying. Steve feels awful.

He also can’t pass up an opportunity to tease you lovingly. “Honey, I appreciate the invite, but this is my room.” Your hand lifts to flip him off. “Yeah, there she is.” He huffs a quick laugh out, before double checking, “Are you sure you want me to stay? I- I can give you space if you need.”

“I need you, not space.” You roll to the other side of the bed, throwing the covers back. “Please?”

Steve felt his heart ache; this wouldn’t make the dreaded conversation any easier by morning, but he didn’t want to say no, because in some backwards way, the two of you need one another right now.

He crawls in next to you, pulling the covers back up over both of you. He holds himself back from reaching out for you, an action that’s become second nature over the last few weeks.

Instead, he asks, “Can I hold you?” Steve hates the way his voice cracks with longing, giving away how awful he felt. For himself. For you. For the both of you. It wasn’t supposed to end up in this strange suspension between lust and love. It should’ve stayed a one time thing, if at all.

Only silence comes from your side of the bed as you’re already falling back asleep. Steve turns over and hopes sleep can come that quick for him, too.

····································

When morning arrives, you wake up peacefully, naturally, and with a major headache. 

“Fucking christ.”

You roll over, realizing the other side of Steve’s bed is empty.

Wait. Why am I here?

You didn’t forget last night, but you can’t come up with a good reason as to why you decided to fall asleep in Steve’s bed instead of your own. Not a justifiable reason in sight after the car ride home.

Blinking a few times as you adjust to the bright light, something on the nightstand catches your eye.

It’s a note, with a water bottle and your cute little pipe with a packed bowl. A smile joins your features as you read the note. 

hey, angel. figured you might need these for the rough hangover. 

if you still wanna talk when I get home, we can. if not, we can do whatever makes you feel comfortable about us. either way, you better stay hydrated today. or else. not sure what the ‘or else’ is yet, but I mean it. drink your damn water.

— steve ♡

While the note, the tiny heart near his name, and kindness behind it made your smile grow, your heart aches at one line.

We can do whatever makes you feel comfortable about us.

It’s sincere and considerate, like Steve is, other than last night, but he didn’t know. He didn’t know you fell for him during all of this, so could you even count that against him?

Steve’s more worried about your comfort in all of this than his own; he always does this, he always puts everyone’s needs and feelings first.

Before you can even fully wake up, you’re reaching for the phone on the table, dialing without much thought. It rings twice before a familiar voice answers.

“Family Vi— ”

“Robin! Is Steve there? Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah, hi to you too,” She deadpans.

“Sorry. Hi. Hi Robin. Hello. Please give Steve the phone, pleaaaaaasssseeeeeee— ”

She scoffs, and you can hear the eye roll she makes, “Oh my god, shut up, shut up. I’ll get him.”

“Thank you!” You’re a little too enthusiastic in your reply. It’s quiet for a minute until you hear someone pick up the other end’s receiver.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve’s immediately jumping into worry mode.

“Nothing’s wrong, why would something be wrong?”

“You never call here. Just… surprised me, is all.”

“Oh… well, look, I- I just wanted to say, about the note—” ”

“Was it too much? I’m sorry if I— ”

“Steve, shut up for a minute. Please.” He pushes a soft, quiet laugh through the phone. You can picture him with his arms crossed, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, leaning against the counter. Robin’s probably rolling her eyes. “We can… we can talk tonight. I didn’t want you to go the whole day worried about it.”

It’s silent on his end, other than distant, soft breaths. “You didn’t have to call. N- not that I don’t appreciate it! Just… y’know. I kinda have an idea of what’s coming. And it’s okay. I just want you to be—”

“Steve, I’m grateful you’re always looking out for me and my feelings, but that’s why I called. I want you to feel comfortable too, okay? Whatever works for you, works for me.”

“I— ”

“Steve, get off the phone! You can talk to your girlfriend later!”

Steve lazily covers the mic, but you can still hear him quip back, “She’s not my— whatever. Give me a minute.”

“Thirty seconds!”

“Jesus, what bug crawled up Keith’s ass?” You joke, earning a sigh from Steve.

“Definitely something annoying, like a mosquito.” He snickers back into the phone before clearing his throat. “Um… can we talk in… two hours? I can come back on my bre— ”

You cut him off anxiously. “Yes. Please. Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Okay, two hours. Yeah. Okay. See ya’ then.” Steve sounds nervous, rushing off the phone before hanging up first.

Two hours. Not that long. You should be fine.

Totally fine.

········································································

It’s been an hour, and you’re ready to move on from chewing your nails nervously, to gnawing your entire arm off.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit much. You’re still nervous as fuck, though. How can you last another hour like this?

You passed up the weed, wanting to be as sober as possible for the conversation, but you hate taking painkillers, so you keep the lights off and throw a pair of sunglasses on; the light is the worst for you with hangovers, but this barely helps.

Even worse, your head’s spinning and the constant stream of thoughts revolving around you and Steve make you dizzy. You stay in his bed, covers pulled up and blinds drawn to keep out the light, with your headphones on to block out any noise outside the apartment. They’re not even plugged into your Walkman, you’re just hoping the barrier of silence helps.

It doesn’t. You hear no sound, but your head is still pounding. Maybe you should’ve smoked after all.

The blankets are yanked back, startling you into a scream. It stops as soon as it starts when you see Steve. He’s chuckling at your reaction, and though you’re relieved to see it’s him and not some monster or masked intruder, your heart’s about to jump out of your chest.

Gently, he pulls the headphones off of you. “Sorry, honey. Uh… why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”

Every time he calls you that, or angel, you feel yourself melt. The hold this man has on you is insane.

“Hangover, lights suck, all that stuff.” You grumble, falling back onto the bed. Steve sits next to you. “I- I thought you said two hours?”

“Yeah… waiting was driving me nuts. So, I, uh, I left for the day.” He rubs the back of his neck, gaze shying away, but not before he notices you’re still wearing his shirt, and not wearing pants.

You’re shocked he pulled that off. “What’d you tell Keith to leave early?!”

“My great aunt’s in the hospital.”

You stifle a laugh, “Steve, didn’t you use that excuse a few months ago?”

His eyes grow wide. “Shit, did I?”

“Oh my god, yeah! You had me call to pretend— whatever,” You crack up, head falling back with a loud laugh. “You gotta keep track of these excuses!” You cradle your own head, wincing from the pain your own loudness brings.

“Hey, you didn’t— ” Steve’s eyes darted to the nightstand, about to tease you for not smoking yet, but you haven't touched the bottle of water either. “Jesus, no wonder your head hurts.” 

“I didn’t wanna be high when we talked,” You grumble, about to lay back down, but Steve holds you upward, handing you the water. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You take a sip. “Happy?”

Steve lets you go, running a hand down his face with a sigh. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You’re mid-sip before choking on water, struggling through a cough to ask, “I- I- did you— what did you just say?”

“Uh… good question. You heard that? I said that? Out loud?” Steve rambles a lot, but he’s great at it when nervous. “I think you’re imagining things.”

“Would’ve worked if I was high, but nice try.”

He groans with an eye roll, flopping onto the bed, landing on his back. His hands come up to cover his face, but you pull them back. 

“I didn’t want to say it like that.” His admission comes without eye contact as his face burns red. “I wasn’t gonna say it at all, honestly. I kinda figured out this is the end of things anyway.”

“Wait, what? Steve—”

“N- not that it’s a bad thing!” You haven’t let go of his hand, and he’s either completely oblivious or doesn’t want to let go. “I’m— whatever you decide, I’ll respect. We can go back to being friends, or even just… boring roommates, if you want.”

“Okay, but— ”

“And since it’s all out there— not saying this to make you feel guilty, or bad, or anything, but I- I thought these feelings were new, and it turns out I’ve felt this way about you since… probably the first week we lived here.”

Your heart aches, but in the best ways; you need to tell Steve you feel the same.

“Stevie, listen—”

“But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I can move out, if that’s easier.”

If only he’d shut the fuck up.

He’s getting himself worked up, and you wish he’d just take a minute to breathe. “Not, like, forcing that either, because if you just wanna be friends still, I- I’d be more than happy… and lucky to have you in my life still. But that’s- it’s— I’m not trying to—”

You’re growing agitated, wishing he’d give himself some grace. “Steve, take a second to— ”

“And I mean what I said last night, I’m so sorry for hurting you. I thought maybe it’d help distract me, but it just hurt you instead… I just fucked everything up—”

“Oh, for the love of— ” You swing a leg over his lap to straddle him, throwing your sunglasses off in the process. Leaning down, tone dripping with adoration, you murmur, “Steve, shut up.” 

You kiss him, hoping this pauses the overthinking. He’s stunned, expecting anything but this. The two of you have kissed plenty of times by now, but this one is everything to him.

Finally, Steve kisses back, earning a smile from you against his lips. You cradle his face in your hands as you feel his run along your back, holding you against him as any uncertainty floats away. Breaking the kiss, you don’t pull away, just admit softly against his lips, “I love you, too.”

He sits up, leaning back on his arms with eyes wide in disbelief, “You- are you- you mean it?”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t suffer through a hangover for just anyone, you know. I wish it didn’t take the whole battery incident— ”

“You mean vibrator incident—”

“Oh, will you shut— it’s all the same! Anyway,” You giggle, a sound Steve adores, one that pulls a smile across his face every time he hears you. “That’s when I realized I had feelings for you. A- and you coming out just to make me feel better about coming out, that really woke me up… and, uh, do not let this get to your big head—”

“My head is not big!”

You narrow your stare, shutting him up. “… When I saw you with someone else, and it made me so jealous, I’ve never felt that with anyone before. I didn’t think it was love until you came looking for my dumb, drunk ass on the street.”

“Someone had to, you were on your way to fucking Canada if you kept walking in that direction.” Steve snickers, but kisses your cheek, softening the blow. You can’t help huffing out a laugh with him; honestly, he had every right to poke fun at your little stunt.

Your voice falls quiet, turns small, “I’m sorry I never said anything earlier, and that I kept pushing that ‘just friends’ bullshit.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Steve tries steering you away from taking the blame, “You’re a way better kisser than they were.”

You snort, “You’re just saying that.” It doesn’t stop your skin from prickling up, or the heat that blooms across your face.

“I’m not, I promise. You weren’t kidding, they literally shoved their tongue down my throat. You running off gave me an excuse to leave, so… thanks.”

You can’t help teasing him, “What are friends for?”

Steve rolls his eyes for the millionth time before sitting up to push you back onto the bed. He climbs on top, and you tug at the ugly Family Video vest he still has on.

“Babe, get this stupid thing off,” You giggle, tugging it down his arms. He pouts.

“What? You’re not into it? I thought it was kinda sexy,” His brows wiggle with his joke, and you throw it onto the floor, glaring at him. “What if I wore that, and nothing else? Just the vest.”

You’re pulling his shirt off, throwing that to the floor, too. “Then I’d definitely kick you out.”

Steve leans down to you, murmuring, “You’d never.” His lips brush against your jaw, kissing along your face to reach your neck.

“You’re right, but— ” Your breath hitches, holding your words back as he continues to kiss down your neck. “—w-we definitely wouldn’t fuck for a long time.”

“Now that’s a threat I take seriously,” His words against your skin vibrate and tickle, sending shivers up your spine. Then, he stops, and sits back up.

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” You instantly cringe at how pathetic you sound, but Steve doesn’t tease you for it, just kisses your forehead quickly before leaning over you.

“Sit up,” Confused, you listen as he takes all the pillows around you, cushioning and covering the headboard. As he comes back to you, he pushes you back softly. “Okay— ”

Now it clicks. “Oh my god, I’m not gonna hit my head this time, I swear!”

He smirks, “Better safe than sorry.” Stealing your chance to quip back, his lips are back on yours, and it’s the kind of tender kiss where he likes to draw it out, take his time. The kind that only makes you squirm from the start.

“Hey, what’s got you so worked up?” Steve pulls back, resting his hand on your face; he can feel the goosebumps on your face prickle up against his palm. His touch is warm, soothing, and easy to gravitate to; you’re certainly not immune to leaning into his hand whenever he does this. 

“Need you, Steve,” You breathe, legs closing underneath him to try and subside the ache between your legs. 

“I wish I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that,” He teases, pushing your legs apart, fixated on the damp patch on the fabric between your legs. You whine, rolling your hips against nothing, only showing how needy you are. “‘Cause if I did, I’d have enough to get you a new vibrator.”

You feign offense with a loud gasp, “I thought you said I wouldn’t need it anymore, ‘cause I have you instead.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your panties down. His hands run up your legs, pinning you to the bed as he reaches your hips. It’s not like you were going anywhere to begin with, but the pressure and possessiveness feels… nice.

“You do have me,” The meaning behind his affirmation spreads far beyond sex. “Always.”

You reach for his pants as he leans over you again, “Don’t have you in me yet, though,” You grumble, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. Steve stifles a laugh while you struggle. “Who designed this fuckin’ thing anyway?”

“I thought we were having a sweet moment, but your sailor mouth’s ruining it,” His joke doesn’t make you laugh like he hoped. Instead, you just look frustrated, finally loosening his belt. “Whoa, hey— honey, look at me.”

A sharp exhale escapes your lips while you glance up at Steve, but only for a moment before staring off, “M’sorry.”

“We don’t have to do this, you know that, right?”  A finger slips under your chin, gently tilting your face up towards his. Your eyes meet his again, and he gives you the same soft, caring look he gave you a few nights ago. “I’m perfectly content with just hanging out the rest of the day, doing whatever you want.”

“I want to, I really do, I just… ” You try forcing your voice to come out stronger, more certain, but it just cracks as you admit, “I think I’m scared it’ll end so fast.”

Steve thinks back to the first time the two of you kissed, the first time you were fully exposed to him, the first time he went down on you— the first time anyone went down on you, how disappointed you sounded when it was almost over. He remembers telling you it could happen again, that it didn’t have to be a one time thing.

He remembers the way you hit your head against the wall, again, the first time the two of you fucked, and how he told you next time it’d be in a bed, helping you laugh off the clumsiness. You sounded so surprised that you even talked about the possibility of a ‘next time’.

Almost every time after either of you initiated anything sexual, your reaction was always shock and surprise when Steve talked about fucking around again in the future. There were more times where you begged him to not let it end yet, but he thought it was just in the moment.

Steve didn’t realize you meant you didn’t want things between the two of you to end. It wasn’t ever really in the moment. It was a fear you’ve had since the first time he’s touched you, and it’s a fear of Steve’s, too.

“Angel, I’m not going anywhere,” You move up against the pillows as he speaks softly to you, shifting with you to keep you comfortable while staying close. “I can’t speak for you, but on my end, I don’t plan on ending this fast. Or ever… but that- that’s another conversation for another day, okay?”

You nod, slipping your hand into his, “Okay.”

“Point is, this isn’t a one time thing. You really do have me. And when I say always, I mean it.”

There’s no hesitation in your response, “You have me, too, Steve. Always.”

“Let me take care of you,” His hand is cupping your face again, thumb sweeping along your cheek softly. “Get those awful thoughts out of that pretty head of yours. How’s that sound?”

You nod against his palm, hands coming up to hold his forearm as he holds you. “Please, Stevie.” Your eyes fall to his belt before reaching for it. You pull it off, adding it to the pile of his clothes. “That thing is the worst.”

“Won’t wear that one around you anymore, promise,” Steve chuckles as the two of you strip each other from any remaining clothing.

His lips find their way back to your neck, picking up where he left off with the gentle kisses. Your hands wander his body, tracing along the dips and curves of his toned arms. It’s easy to lose yourself in the scattered freckles and moles all over, making up constellations, a galaxy of his own. What brings you back is the breathy moan made from his touch along your folds.

It’s one finger, then two, and you’re arching your back, pressing yourself against him, dizzy from shallow breaths as he finds your sweet spot. His long fingers have no problem reaching where you need him most, not struggling the way you do when you touch yourself. 

Steve starts kissing down your body, but you grab him by the shoulders. “You okay?”

“Stay with me,” You gasp as he continues fucking you on his fingers. “I- I don’t— it feels good, but I wanna cum with you instead.”

A blush creeps along Steve’s face as a lazy smile curls up. He makes his way back to you, retracing his kisses with new ones, of course. When he rests his forehead against yours, his hand’s still between your legs.

“Still wanna make y’feel good first,” Steve’s thumb softly swipes over your clit while he continues working his fingers, curling them just right. “You can cum twice, you’ve done it before.”

Your fingers twist through his hair, bringing him towards you as you close the gap, trying to kiss him the way he was kissing you. Your hips roll onto his fingers, feeling your legs shake and your walls constrict around him.

Steve pulls back, admiring the way your face twists in an expression of beautiful agony, so, so close to the edge. He leans down to murmur into your ear, “That’s it, angel, let go for me”. Other praises follow, but you’re just at the point of no return, unable to hear him as you finally reach your high, a strangled moan slipping between your lips with ease.

Aftershocks roll through your body while you pant shallow breaths, vision a little fuzzy from your eyes squeezing shut, and Steve kissing your temple, then your cheek, with more gentle praises, ones you can faintly make out.

You’re barely settled, still in the comedown, but you’re pulling Steve closer, “Fuck, I love you.” He beams, knowing already he’ll never get tired of hearing that from you.

He spreads your legs, but stops to study your expression. Checking on you, he asks, “Are you sure you can handle one more?”

“Uh-huh,” You try to giggle, still breathless as you nod. “As long as it’s with you.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but you know him, he loves the corny little remarks you shoot back and forth. You know him. You know him so well by now, because he’s yours. And you’re his.

“Hey, angel?” He’s admiring your figure, still catching your breath, already blissed out with hooded eyes, and the sweetest smile he’s ever seen on your face. He lines up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he leans back down to you with a lingering forehead kiss.

“Y- yeah?” You shudder out, adjusting to him all over again. His hand slips into yours, fingers lacing together before he gives a gentle squeeze.

“I love you, too.”

The first night you had together, when Steve offered to help, it wasn’t meant to just be a one and done kind of fling. Maybe it felt like it back then, and maybe even last night, while the two of you fought over your feelings, it felt like it should’ve been an arrangement that ended long ago. But now? Now, everything’s so sure. Everything’s so certain.

With Steve, everything’s crystal clear.

It only takes the first thrust for the two of you to meld together with ease. It’s almost effortless, the way you and Steve can flow into and with one another. You’ve never felt like this with anyone else, never felt so comfortable, so at home within someone’s embrace, never felt such safety to be yourself completely.

At the same time, both you and Steve give each other the same, cheesy line, “feels like you’re made for me.” While neither of your movements stop, the two of you burst into a fit of laughter. Steve buries his head into your shoulder, while his shoulders shake along with the noise. Your arms wrap around him, laughing even harder when he realizes he can feel you laugh while deep in you. 

“Hey- h- hey wait, waitwaitwait!” He can’t control his laughter, and neither can you. “Every time you do that it— fuck!” He’s trying his hardest to calm down, hoping you can, too. “You gotta stop doing that, I can- you- fuck, you’re so tight.”

You cover your face with your hands, trying to kill your giggles, and slowly it works, leading Steve to calm down, too. With a quick kiss to his chin as he lifts his head, you flip on top, riding him immediately.

Any laughter still at the back of Steve’s throat dies instantly as you grind down onto him. You finally find a steady, slow pace to roll your hips; there’s no rush, there’s no fear it’ll all disappear when the two of you finish. It’s just you and Steve, nothing else, no one else.

No distractions or kinks or secrets, just the two of you, together.

“Honey, m’not gonna last if you k- keep this up,” he breathes, strong hands on your hips, gently guiding you along.

“S’okay, I- I’m close,” You whimper, hand splayed against Steve’s chest. “A- and we can just— ” You sharply gasp, walls constricting around him. “we got all the time in the world, Stevie. You have me, always.” Your head tilts back as pleasure consumes you both, feeling him throb while your legs shake.

Before the two of you reach that sweet high together, you faintly hear Steve respond, “Y’have me, too, angel. Always.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #my fics #crystal clear #*slaps post* this baby can fit SOOOOOOO much angst in it

[jays-bookmarks]

Relief (Blade x gn!reader)

@genshin-obsessed so I heard u like Blade 👀

Summary: After being cursed with immortality by the Abundance, you joined the Stellaron Hunters as a doctor. Today, your most stubborn patient finally comes to you for help. Words: 835 Warnings: reader is implied to be shorter than Blade & can be held in his lap (but our Bladie is a strong boy so he can hold anybody uwu)

You muttered to yourself as you walked around your office, organizing your medicines and checking equipment. As the only doctor in service of the Stellaron Hunters, it was important for you to keep everything in tip-top shape in case of emergencies. Although Elio usually told you in advance if a mission would be particularly bloody, there was always the possibility he would withhold one of his predictions. You couldn’t get complacent.

Despite your regular interactions with the other Stellaron Hunters, you felt you couldn't truly connect with any of your “teammates”: Kafka was always inscrutable, Silver Wolf seemed to treat reality like a game, and Blade… Blade was the only one who you thought could understand you. You had both been cursed by the Abundance in your own ways, after all. But after he ignored your attempts at friendship for so long, you had resigned yourself to an eternity of loneliness in your empty office.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a knock on your door. You paused for a moment. Neither Kafka nor Silver Wolf were due for an appointment, leaving only one other person…

You opened the door to see Blade standing with his arms crossed. His expression betrayed nothing of what he felt, but you could see a tension in his shoulders. He didn’t speak as you blinked up at him in surprise.

“Blade. Come in,” you said, stepping aside to let him enter.

Blade went to sit down in his usual spot, and you quickly busied yourself gathering the necessary materials to make the painkiller you devised specifically for his condition. You couldn’t mix the medicine in advance, as its effectiveness faded quickly with time, so you always kept the raw ingredients on hand.

You glanced over your shoulder at Blade. Your gaze flicked over his body as you observed him. To the untrained eye, Blade seemed fine as ever, if a little irritated, but you knew how to read him after having treated him for so long. You could tell he was holding back more pain than usual. The fact that he was here of his own volition told you all that you needed to know.

You took a breath, then walked over to him. The medicine you made would work in time, but you could provide him with a more immediate source of relief. Gently, you reached out and pressed a hand to his chest.

He stiffened at the contact but didn't push you away. You closed your eyes and poured your energy into him, letting it wash over him and dull his pain. You focused until you felt Blade’s breathing grow more even and his muscles relax.

You felt lightheaded as you pulled back. The process had taken much longer than you anticipated and had cost much more of your energy as well.

You tried to step away toward the counter, not wanting to linger too long in Blade’s personal space, but a wave of dizziness hit you and you stumbled. Before you could hit the floor, Blade caught you in his arms.

“What did you do?” he asked, panic bleeding into his voice.

You knew you would recover in time—the Abundance’s curse would not let you go so easily—but the pain was still nearly unbearable. Your breathing was shallow and your vision blurry. Blade adjusted his grip on you and pulled you into his lap. His arms shook slightly as he held you.

“I’m sorry… I just wanted to help…” Your voice was weak and shaky as you spoke. “It… it'll pass… I'll be okay…”

Though you said this, you were still on the verge of tears. You were not like Blade—you hadn’t spent an eternity in combat and had yet to become numb to the pain of pushing your body to the limit. What he bore with a straight face was agony for you. You tried to hold back a whimper.

Blade tightened his grip around you.

“Why?” he asked.

“I… just wanted to give you some relief…” you said. You pinched your eyes shut to try to block out the pain. “Did… did it work, at least?”

Blade was silent for a while. Then, he pulled you closer, letting your head rest against his chest as his breath fanned over your face. 

“…Yes,” he said. “Don’t do it again.”

“…Sorry…” You breathed out, letting your eyes fall shut. After what you had done, you were completely exhausted, and Blade's embrace was so warm… You fell asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart, for once free of worries as Blade held you close.

The next day, Kafka would enter your office only to see Blade glaring at her to stay silent. You were still slumbering in his arms. He had stayed in that same position all night, not caring about the fatigue in his muscles nor the ache that came with it. Kafka smiled knowingly, holding back her teasing words—if only for now—as she closed the door, leaving Blade alone with you.

#literally crying holding myself back from pulling for blade bc I need to save my crystals for imbibitor lunae #so this is my gift to him instead #for those of you who have read the arcana the reader's condition in this fic was inspired by julian's curse #where he can heal any injury by taking it on for himself #but i kinda changed it to just general healing powers since blade wasn't actually injured in this scene lmao #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x gn reader #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail x gn reader #star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x gn reader #hsr x reader #hsr fanfic #hsr imagines #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #star rail x gender neutral reader #star rail x you #star rail x y/n #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x y/n #honkai star rail

[sherlockruiningmylife]

What is currently killing me about merthur is the whole Merlin fell first but Arthur fell harder. Because if this is true (which I fully believe it is) and Merlin was so so broken over Arthur's death. And waited dutifully and solemnly for 1500+ years. Then just imagine, imagine (!) what Arthur would have done if Merlin died. Broken wouldn't begin to describe it. He would have raged and torn the world apart to bring him back. If Merlin turned dark in s5 trying to prevent the end, then imagine how dark Arthur would become if he lost Merlin. Nothing, I mean nothing would have stopped him from bringing Merlin back.

#if anyone has fic recs plz lmk #also #i am all behind the merlin being immortal #even before the crystal cave #but i like the angst #and thinking about just how much arthur feels #his love is so strong #but it would blind him #as it blinded merlin #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #all the angst #merthur fanfic

[joelswritingmistress]

Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 1

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone. 

Every town in North America has a ghost story. Some are well kept secrets, and others are so notorious that the sins of those tales have spread far and wide, to every dark corner of the earth. Crystal Lake was a sterling example of such a place. It had a typical sounding name, really, for a fresh body of water in the middle of the New England woods. But the stories surrounding the area were anything but typical.

As a young child, I remember hearing his name being said on the playgrounds at school. Jason. It didn’t take me long to insert myself into conversations in an attempt to hear the details of whatever version of the story the older kids were spreading. Back then it didn’t matter if they were fact or fiction. I stayed up late, wide eyed staring at every dark corner of my bedroom after hearing tales of Jason Voorhees. Now, at 22 years old and about to enter the summer as a counselor at Camp Crystal Lake, those distant, childish memories made me grin; though when my rusty, Jeep Wrangler bounced down the uneven road past the wooden Camp Crystal Lake sign, the hairs rose just a bit on the back of my neck.

“I thought you outgrew superstition,” I said quietly to myself as a song ended on my playlist, leaving me in a few extra seconds of silence to take in the wooded surroundings.

Jason Voorhees. The name still creeped everyone out. Yes, there had been a tragedy that happened decades earlier. Jason Voorhees was real; but after several attacks on counselors and residents alike, a boy named Tommy Jarvis managed to put Jason to rest permanently.

I shuddered and reminded myself that that was decades ago. I wasn’t even alive when it all happened. And this new camp wasn’t anywhere near the original location of the attacks on that Friday the 13th back in the 80’s.

I saw a pale yellow VW Bug parked up ahead next to a blue Ford pickup truck. On the opposite side of the truck was a Bronco with about as much rust as my Jeep. I began to wonder what my coworkers would be like. Would they be my age? Younger? Older? Local? I was about to find out.

I parked in the clearing beside the VW and stared out at the lake a few hundred yards away. There was a small beach with a towering, white lifeguard stand in the center and a wooden raft floating too not far from the patch of sand. If nothing else, it would be a great summer gig with a view. The campers wouldn’t be here for several weeks and I knew getting the place ready would call for some physical labor. I never minded hands-on work, and I was sure it would give us all time to bond.

When I exited the vehicle, a breeze hit me from the water and I shuddered, despite the temperatures nearing eighty degrees on the late June afternoon. My eyes scanned the trees on all sides and I suddenly wondered where everyone was. I let farfetched ‘what-ifs’ filter through my mind for a second before smirking to myself.

Grow up, I scolded myself lightheartedly. The imaginative part of me still enjoyed the folklore, no matter how juvenile it felt.

I popped open the back of the Jeep and reached in to grab my suitcase, an oversized gym bag and a backpack that housed the majority of my clothes. I had a few stray boxes with makeup and hair products, among other toiletries, though I decided I’d come back for them later.

Again, I took in my surroundings. For some reason I half-expected to see a group of young people out-and-about in the immediate area upon arrival. The silence was beginning to hit my psyche harder than I’d like to admit, and so I stared up at an oversized cabin with wooden paneling and headed in that direction.

A hammock swung empty on a giant front porch that was littered with chairs and small tables in between. Above them hung metal lighting fixtures, some of which were swinging in the summer breeze.

And then I heard a sound I could only compare to clicking. It was like a clock, almost. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I set my suitcase down near the bottom step and shrugged the gym bag off my shoulder so it rested beside it, leaving my backpack on. And then I followed the sound.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

What is that?

I swallowed hard as the noise grew louder. It stopped for a second and then there was a louder noise. A faint bang. And then a pause. Another bang.

What the hell is that?

I rounded the side of the two-story cabin and peeked my head around to see if I could get a glimpse of whatever, or whoever, was responsible for the sound. Visions of Jason Voorhees and his menacing hockey mask left my mind immediately when the truth revealed itself.

A muscular man in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows swung an ax, connecting with a giant log of wood. It split into two, sending little shards flying into the air. He wiped his forehead with his arm and then reached for another.

I wasn’t sure if I should tiptoe back to the front porch or interrupt him, but my mind was made up by default when he slowly turned in my direction. When he smiled beneath a mustache, I blushed and glanced at the open area of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

“Hello.” He gave a wave and wiped sweat off his forehead again before removing a pair of work gloves.

I raised my hand and swallowed hard. “Hi.”

The man approached and extended an arm in my direction. I stared down at his hand for a second before joining mine to his in a handshake. Our eyes met and I felt my eyebrows raise unwillingly.

“I’m Joel Miller,” he introduced himself, slightly out of breath. “I did the phone interview with you back in March and a second one in April. (Y/N), right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded and cleared my throat with a smile.

“I’m the camp director,” he informed me with a nod.

“Nice to meet you.” My hand was still in his and finally they parted.

Joel nodded in agreement. “I’m just finishing up here. I think we have one more person to arrive today before the rest come in the middle of the week. You can get yourself settled in whatever room is still available and I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” I nodded, “Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

When he smiled again I might as well have turned to stone. Who knew my boss for the summer would be such a.. hunk.

Well shit. It’s thirty seconds into the summer and I’m already crushing on my boss. I added, what a lovely predicament.

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER

@cattt777 @gissellec1

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #friday the 13th #jason voorhees #camp crystal lake #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc #joel miller gif #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [5/5]

we made it!!! part 5/5 + a mini epilogue (5.6k words) at long last 🥹 (aka the installment in which i remember that h/c has a c in it in addition to the h, haha.) [part 1] is here!

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

The world comes back to him in pieces—first the wooden panels of the ceiling, the sloped wooden beams. The coldness of the room, the slight, monotonous whir of the air circulating through one of the vents overhead.

He’s leaned up against the wall, seated on the floor in the hallway, and Vincent is kneeling beside him, his eyebrows furrowed.

It takes him a moment to realize where he is. He had been about to head back to the courtyard, hadn’t he? He doesn’t have much memory of anything that happened after, but judging by Vincent’s reaction, he thinks he can probably guess.

“Hi,” Yves says, for lack of a better thing to say. 

He watches a complicated set of expressions flicker through Vincent’s face—relief, first, before it turns to something distinctly less neutral.

“You’re awake,” Vincent says. He turns away, for a moment. Yves notes the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his grip—his fingers white around Yves’s sleeve.

“Was I out for long?”

“A couple minutes.”

Yves wants to say something. He should say something. Anything to lighten the tension, anything to get the point across that this is all just an unlucky miscalculation, on his part. It really isn’t something Vincent should have to be worried about. 

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he starts. Really, what he means is, I’m sorry for making you worry about me. “I promise I’mb fine.”

The look on Vincent’s face, then, is something that Yves hasn’t seen before. 

“Why do you have to—” he starts, frustration rising in his voice. He sighs, his jaw set. “I don’t understand why you—” He drops his hand from Yves’s sleeve, and it’s then when Yves notices the stiffness to his shoulders, the tension in his posture. He runs a hand through his hair, lets out another short, exasperated breath. “You’re not fine.” 

It’s strange, Yves thinks, to see him like this—Vincent, who usually never wears his emotions on his face, looks clearly displeased, now. 

“Hey,” Yves says, softly. He reaches out to take Vincent’s hand. Vincent goes very still with the contact, but he doesn’t say anything. “I—”

Fuck. His body seems to always pick the worst time for unwanted interjections. He wrenches his hand away just in time to smother a sneeze into his sleeve, though it’s forceful enough to leave him slightly lightheaded. 

“Stay here,” Vincent says, getting to his feet. “Lay down if you get dizzy again.”

Yves blinks. “Where are you going?”

“To tell the others that we’re leaving.”

Yves wants to protest. Dinner is already halfway over. It’s not as if the festivities are particularly strenuous. They’ll probably move inside after dinner, where it’s warmer.

But he thinks better of it. Judging by how exhausted he still feels, how much his head aches, it probably wouldn’t be wise to push it. 

“Don’t tell them about this,” he says.

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Aimee is going to worry if she finds out,” Yves says, dropping his head to his knees. He doesn’t want to look at Vincent, doesn’t want to know what expression is on his face. “Just—let them have this night. It’s—supposed to be perfect.” I really wanted it to be perfect, he almost adds. There’s a strange tightness to his throat as he says it, a strange heaviness to his chest.

He knows what it means. If, after he’s tried so hard to do his part, their evening still ends up ruined on his own accord, he’s not sure if he could live with himself after.

For a moment, Vincent doesn’t say anything at all.

“Okay,” he says, at last. “Just stay here.”

And then he heads down the hallway. The door at the end of the reception hall swings shut behind him. Yves thinks he should be relieved, but he finds that he doesn’t feel much other than exhausted.

—

The ride home on the shuttle is silent. Vincent sits next to him, even though all of the other seats are empty. Yves thinks the proximity is probably inadvisable. He opens his mouth to say as much, and then shuts it.

Vincent sits and stares straight ahead, his posture stiff, and doesn’t say anything for the entirety of the ride. It’s strange. Yves is no stranger to silence—Vincent is, after all, a coworker, and Yves has endured more than a few quiet elevator rides and quiet team lunches at the office, but it’s strange because it’s Vincent.

Vincent, who usually takes care to make conversation with him, whenever it’s just the two of them. Vincent, who stayed up through the lull of antihistamines a couple months ago to talk to Yves, until Yves had given him explicit permission to go to sleep.

Yves tries not to think about it. Through the haze of his fever, everything feels unusually bright—the interior of the shuttle, with its leather seats and metal handrails.

The shuttle stops just outside the main entrance to their hotel. Just before he gets to the doors, he stumbles. Vincent’s hand shoots out, instinctively, to steady him.

“Sorry,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. It’s not that he’s dizzy. The roads are just uneven, and it’s dark. “I can walk.”

But Vincent doesn’t let go—not for the entirety of the walk through the cool, air-conditioned lobby, through the hallways to the hotel elevators. Not when the elevator stops at their floor, not when they pass by the grid of wooden doors leading up to their room. 

Before Yves can manage to reach for his keycard, Vincent has already swiped them in, scarily efficient. He slides the card back into his pocket, pushes the door open. 

“Thadks for walking me back,” Yves says. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer. You mbust’ve been halfway through dinner.”

“I already finished eating,” Vincent says.

“Even dessert?” Yves says. “I think Aimee got everyone creme brulee from one of the local bakeries. I was excited to try it. Maybe Leon can save us some.” he muffles a yawn into his hand. It’s too early to be sleeping, but his pull out bed looks very inviting right now.

“Take the bed,” Vincent says.

Yves blinks at him. “What?”

“The bed’s warmer.”

There’s absolutely no way he’s going to let Vincent take the pull-out bed in his place, Yves thinks blearily. He’s spent the past couple nights muffling sneezes into the covers—if there’s anything he’s certain of, it’s that he really, really doesn’t want Vincent to catch this.

“I dod’t think we should switch,” he says, sniffling. “I’ve been sleeping here ever sidce I started coming down with this. I’mb— hHeh-!” He veers away, raising an elbow to his face. “hh—HHEh’IIDZschH’-iEEW! Ugh, I’mb pretty sure I contaminated it.”

“We can both take the bed, if you’d prefer,” Vincent says. As if it’s that simple.

Yves opens his mouth to protest—is Vincent really okay with sharing a bed with him?—but then he thinks about Vincent finding him in the hallway—the stricken expression on his face, then, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched—and thinks better of himself. 

Instead, he lets Vincent lead him to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made—the covers drawn, the pillows propped up against the headboard.

“Lay down,” Vincent says, pushing lightly down on his shoulders. Yves sits. He peels off his suit jacket, folds it, and sets it aside on the nightstand.

“Hey, I kdow that was sudden,” he says, in reference to earlier. “I’mb sorry you had to witness it. I… probably shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Vincent says nothing, to that.

Yves lays down, shuts his eyes. “You didn’t have to accompady me home, you know.”

Silence. He exhales, burrowing deeper into the covers. “It’s not as bad as it looks, seriously.”

He opens his mouth to say more. He has to say something, he thinks, to convince Vincent that it’s really not that big of a deal. Anything, to assuage that look on Vincent’s face.

But he’s so tired. He can feel the exhaustion now that he’s finally let himself lay down. The bed is traitorously comfortable, with its soft feather pillows and its fluffy layers of blankets, and Vincent was right—it really is warmer.

He feels the press of a hand on his forehead, feels the cold, unyielding pressure. Feels gentle, calloused fingers brush the hair out of his face.

“Sleep,” Vincent says, firmly. 

And Yves—

Yves, already half gone, is powerless, when Vincent says it like that.

—

When he wakes, it’s just barely bright outside. He takes it in—the first few rays of sunlight, streaking through the curtains. The bed, a little more well-cushioned than the pullout bed he’d spent the past few nights on—higher up and decisively sturdier. He blinks.

Beside him, seated on a chair he recognizes as belonging to the desk at the opposite end of the room, is Vincent.

Vincent, awake. Yves isn’t sure if he’s slept at all. He certainly doesn’t look tired, at first glance, but closer inspection reveals a little more. It’s evident in the way he holds his shoulders, stiff, and perhaps a little tired, as if there’s been tension sitting in them all night. 

He’s reading a book. Whether he bought it at the convenience store downstairs, or on one of the other days when Yves was busy running errands for the wedding and Vincent was elsewhere, or whether it’d been sitting in his suitcase since the start of the vacation, Yves doesn’t know.

“How’s the book?” Yves says.

His throat is dry, he realizes, for the way it makes him cough, afterwards. Vincent’s eyes meet his, unerringly. He shuts the book, sets it down on the bedside table.

“It’s a little boring,” Vincent says. “How’s the fever?”

Before Yves can answer, Vincent leans forward and presses the back of his hand to Yves’s forehead. His touch is unerringly gentle, and Yves allows himself to look. 

Vincent’s eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, and Yves wonders, suddenly, if he’s been this worried for awhile, now. If he’s been this worried ever since he’d walked them both back into the hotel room last night.

“I’m fine,” Yves says. 

It has the opposite effect he intends it to.

Vincent’s expression shutters. “The last time you said that, you passed out in front of me,” he says, withdrawing his hand with a frown. “So forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you.”

Yves sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s a fair point. “I’m usually more reliable whed it comes to these things.”

“What things?”

“Kdowing my limits.”

Vincent says, “I think you knew your limits. I think you just didn’t want to honor them, because you decided the wedding took precedence.”

He’s… frustrated, Yves realizes. Still. He’s sure he can guess why. Their fake relationship does not extend to Vincent having to look after him, to Vincent having to drop everything in the middle of a wedding, of all things, to take him home. To Vincent having to worry about all this—the fever Yves knows he has, now, and the bed he’s currently taking up—on top of everything else. As if being in a foreign country, surrounded by people he knows almost exclusively through Yves, who, for the most part, converse in a language he barely speaks, wasn’t already enough work on its own.

And Yves gets it. He hadn’t wanted this to happen, either. He’d told himself that if this—this pretend relationship, this pretense—is contingent upon both of them playing their part, the least he can do is be self-sufficient outside of it.

But now—because Vincent is here with him, and because they share a hotel room—all of this is now Vincent’s problem, too, by extension.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks.

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly, as if the answer is evident. 

“You gave up your bed just for me to steal it,” Yves says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s really comfortable, and all, but I’mb pretty sure they make these kinds of beds for two.”

“Is that a proposition?” Vincent says.

“Maybe.” Yves thinks it through. “Realistically, probably ndot, until I have a chance to shower.” He’s still dressed in his dress shirt and slacks from yesterday, a little embarrassingly—he should probably get changed. “Speaking of which, I should do that soon, so you don’t feel the need to stay up all night reading—” Yves leans forward, squints at the book cover on the nightstand. “—Hemingway? Somehow, I didn’t expect you to be the type.”

“I’m not,” Vincent says. “Victoire lent it to me.”

“Oh,” Yves says, trying to think of when Vincent would’ve had time to ask her for a recommendation. “Yeah. She’s—” He twists aside, ducking into his elbow. “hHEH’IIDzschh-EEW! snf-! She’s quite the literary reader. Is it really that boring?”

“I can see why people think the transparency of his prose is appealing,” Vincent says. “But I’m fifty pages in, and nothing has happened.”

“Isd’t that the sort of thing Hemingway can get away with, since he’s straightforward about it?”

“In a short story, maybe,” Vincent says. Then: “You are trying to make me feel better.”

Ah.

Yves laughs. “Where in the world did you get that idea?”

Vincent just sighs. “I would be exceptionally unobservant not to notice when I’ve seen you do the same thing all this week.”

“What?”

“Telling people that you’re fine,” Vincent says. “And distracting them when they don’t believe you.”

Yves doesn’t think that’s entirely accurate. It’s not like he was trying to be dishonest. It’s just that it was never the most important thing to address.

“Distracting is a bit disingenuous.”

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, with a frown. “You’re so insistent on putting yourself last, even when you were obviously—” He sighs. There it is—that expression again, the one that makes itself evident through the furrowed eyebrows, the tense set of his jaw—frustration, and maybe something else. “You’re surrounded by people who care about you, so why not just—”

“There are plenty of things more important than how I’mb feeling,” Yves says.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

But of course it is, Yves thinks. A wedding is a once in a lifetime occurrence. An illness is nothing, in the face of that.

“I promised I’d be there,” he says, because when it really comes down to it, it’s true. He had no intention of going back on his word. “I didn’t want to be the one to let them down. Is that so hard to believe?” He reaches up with a hand to massage his temples. His head aches, even though he’s slept for long enough that he feels like it ought to feel a little better, by now. “It’s already bad enough that I had to drag you into this.” 

“You didn’t drag me into this,” Vincent says. “I came on my own volition.”

Yves tries a laugh, but it’s humorless. “I made you leave halfway through the wedding dinner.”

“I’d already finished eating.”

“Ndot to mention, you practically had to carry me upstairs.”

“Because you’re ill.”

“That’s no excuse.” Yves wants to say more, but he finds himself beholden to a tickle in the back of his throat—irritatingly present, until he concedes to it by ducking into his elbow to cough, and cough.

When he looks up, blinking tears out of his vision, Vincent isn’t looking at him.

“You should get some rest,” he says, simply.

Yves can tell—just by the way he says it—that there is no argument to him, anymore. Just like that, Vincent is back to being closed off—poised and perfectly, infuriatingly unreadable, just like he is at work, his face so carefully a mask of indifference, even in the most stressful presentations, the most frustrating disagreements. Yves wants none of it.

 “Hey,” he says. A part of him itches to crack a joke, to change the subject—anything to take away this air of seriousness. A part of him wants to reach out, again—to take Vincent’s hand, entwine their fingers; to reassure him, again, that he’s really fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says, instead. Maybe it’s the fever that loosens his tongue. Maybe it’s just a combination of everything.

He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him, still. Vincent has always held a sort of intensity to him, a quiet sort of perceptiveness. “I’m not sure I follow,” Vincent says.

“This visit was supposed to be fun for you,” he says. “And now you’re here, stuck in the hotel room because of me, even though today was supposed to be for sightseeing.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. What can he say to make it enough? There’s a strange ache in his chest, a strange, crushing pressure. Yves is horrified to find his eyes stinging. He’s held it together for so long, he thinks. Why now? Why, when Vincent is right here?

But a part of him knows, too. Of course traveling to a different country would be more involved than going to a party, or spending an evening at a stranger’s house. But there was a time when he thought this could really just be a fun excursion for the both of them—half a week in his family’s home country, with someone who he thoroughly enjoys spending time with. 

And now, because of this untimely illness—or because of his own short-sightedness in managing it—it isn’t. He didn’t get to stay through dinner, didn’t get to wish Aimee and Genevieve a good rest of their night, like he’d planned to. He has no idea if things went smoothly in his absence. To make matters worse, Vincent is here, having endured a sleepless night, instead of anywhere else.

And really, when he thinks about it, who does have to blame for all of this, except himself?

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this,” he says. “So I’m sorry.” He resists the urge to swipe a hand over his eyes—surely, he thinks, that would give him away.

He turns away. It’s convenient, he thinks, that the embarrassing sniffle that follows could be attributed to something else. 

“You’ve been nothing but accommodating to me, this whole visit,” Vincent says. “If anything, I should’ve insisted that you take the bed earlier. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

He says it with such certainty. Yves opens his mouth to protest this—or to apologize, for all the times he must’ve kept Vincent up, including but not limited to last night—but Vincent presses on.

“You spent all of yesterday morning helping everyone get ready, and when I got back, you apologized for not being around—as if the reason why you weren’t around wasn’t that you were so busy making sure everything was fine for everyone else.” Vincent pauses, takes in a slow, measured breath. Yves is surprised to hear that he sounds… distinctly angry, in a way that Yves is not used to hearing.

“And then you showed up to the rehearsal and the wedding, even though you weren’t feeling well. And you still think you have something to apologize for? Are you even hearing yourself?” Yves hears the creak of the chair as he stands, the sound of quiet footsteps. Feels the dip of the bed as Vincent takes a seat at the edge of it. 

“You know, after you left the dinner table, Genevieve was talking about how much she liked your speech? Do you know that yesterday morning, Solaine told me how grateful she was that you helped her with fixing her dress? Do you know that when I got lunch with Leon and Victoire, they told me how much time you spent preparing for everything—the speech, and the wedding, both?”

Oh. Yves hadn’t known any of those things, and he knows Vincent isn’t the kind of person who would lie about this sort of thing.

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, sounding distinctly pained to say it. “How could you possibly think that you haven’t done enough?”

Yves finds himself taken aback—by the frustration in his voice, by the fact that Vincent has noticed these things in the first place, by the fact that he’s deemed them important enough to take stock of. He makes it sound so simple. 

“I don’t know,” Yves says, at last. He shuts his eyes. “If it was enough.”

“I’m telling you that it was,” Vincent says.

But Yves knows that he could have done more, if the circumstances were different. If he hadn’t been so out of it during the wedding. If he’d taken the necessary precautions to avoid coming down with this in the first place. If he’d been able to stay through dinner, at least; if he hadn’t needed Vincent to accompany him home. 

“You don’t believe me,” Vincent says, with a sigh.

Yves doesn’t say anything, to that.

“I can’t speak for anyone else,” Vincent says. There’s the slight rustling of the covers as he shifts, rearranging one of the pillows at the headboard. “But I had fun.”

Yves’s heart twists.

It’s sweet, unexpectedly. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” Yves says.

“When have I ever said anything just to make you feel better?” Vincent says, with a short laugh. When Yves chances a look at him, he’s smiling down at himself. “I mean it. Meeting your family has been a lot of fun. It’s not often that I get the chance to be a part of something like this.”

Whether he’s referring to France, or the wedding and the festivities, or being surrounded by Yves’s large extended family, Yves isn’t sure. But if Vincent is trying to cheer him up, it’s working.

“I can see why you like France so much,” he says, turning his gaze out the window, though the view outside is filtered through the semi-translucent curtains. “It’s beautiful.”

“Today was supposed to be the last day for sightseeing,” Yves says, a little regretful. “But you’re stuck here.”

“In a sunny, luxurious hotel room, with a view of the pool and the garden?” Vincent says, with a scoff. “I could think of worse places to be.”

Staying up all night, just to check up on Yves, more accurately. Vincent must be tired, too—yesterday was already tiring enough. And now it’s morning already, and he hasn’t gotten any sleep. 

“Reading Hemingway,” Yves adds.

Vincent looks a little surprised. Then he laughs. “Yes. I guess you’re right. Perhaps it’s an agonizing experience after all.”

The yawn he stifles into his hand, after that isn’t half as subtle as he tries to make it.

Yves feels his eyebrows creep up. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep? There’s plenty of room.” He scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed, just to make a point.

Vincent peers down at the space beside him, a little hesitant. “At 10am?”

“It’d be, what, 4am, back in Eastern time?” Yves says. “By Ndew York standards, you’re supposed to already be asleep.”

“That’s not how it works,” Vincent says, but he dutifully moves a little closer to Yves anyways. He’s changed out of yesterday’s wedding attire, more sensibly, but now he’s wearing a knitted cardigan which Yves thinks looks unfairly, terribly good on him. Yves finds himself marveling at the unfairness of it all. How can someone look so good wearing something so casual?

Vincent smells good, up close. When he lays down next to Yves, pulling the covers gingerly over himself—leaving a careful amount of room between them, but still dangerously, intoxicatingly close—Yves feels his breath catch in his throat.

Vincent is right there, less than an arm’s length away from him, closer than he’s ever been, and Yves—Yves is—

“See,” Yves says, as evenly as he can manage to, in his current state, as if his heart isn’t practically beating out of his chest. He swallows. His throat feels dry. “This bed definitely fits two.”

“I suppose it does,” Vincent says. “Now you can tell me if I’m a terrible person to share a bed with.”

“After everything I’ve put you through,” Yves says, “I think I’d honestly feel reassured if you were.”

Vincent smiles, again, as if he finds this humorous. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine?”

“Positive,” Yves says. “You should sleep. I’ll wake you if I ndeed anything.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Vincent shuts his eyes.

It’s not long before his breathing evens out, not long before he goes perfectly still. He must really be tired, Yves thinks, with a pang.

Yves, for some reason, finds that he can’t get to sleep. He stares up at the ceiling for what feels like minutes on end, shuts his eyes, all to no avail. Maybe it’s because he’s already slept far more than his usual share. Maybe it’s the jetlag. Maybe it’s merely Vincent’s unusual presence—the strangeness of having him so close, in an environment so intimate.

But when he allows himself to look, he sees—

Vincent, his eyes shut, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. From the window, the filtered light gleams unevenly across the crown of dark hair on his head. There’s almost no movement to him at all, aside from the even rise and fall of his shoulders.

And Yves knows what the feeling in his chest is. He’s regrettably, intimately familiar with it.

He just isn’t sure he likes what it means.

—

Vincent—despite falling asleep so quickly—is up before him. When Yves wakes, next, it’s to a hand to his forehead.

“Hey,” Vincent is saying, softly. “Yves. You have a visitor.”

Yves opens his eyes.

He’s feeling—a little better, remarkably. Still feverish, still a little unsteady, but leagues better as compared to yesterday. When he looks over, he sees—

He doesn’t jolt upright, but it’s a close thing. “Aimee!”

He barely has a chance to ask before she’s crashing into him, encircling him in a tight hug. “Yves!” she exclaims, pulling back from him. “How are you feeling? Oh my gosh, when I heard you left early because you were unwell, I was so worried…”

Yves grimaces, turning away. “Sorry, I had every idtention of staying until the end—”

“You came all the way out with the flu!” she says. “I honestly can’t believe you. The fact that you still took the trouble to attend with a fever—”

“It—” Yves starts, but he finds himself twisting away, lifting an arm to his face. “hhEH-! HEEhD’TTSCHH-iiiEEw! Snf-! It’s fide, snf-! I’mb practically recovered already.”

“I should’ve told you not to push yourself when you told me you were coming down with something,” Aimee says, shaking her head. “And you stayed and gave such a lovely speech, even though you weren’t feeling well? When I was talking to Victoire after, she mentioned that you’ve been sick for days and Genevieve—you should’ve said something.”

“I’ll say somethidg next time,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. “Did the wedding go okay?”

Aimee visibly brightens, at this. “It was more than okay,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “It blew every expectation that I had out of the water.”

Aimee fills him in on everything that happened after he left, last night—dessert, the first dance, the cake-cutting; her favorites out of the photos they’d taken after the ceremony (a shot of Genevieve braiding her hair during the cocktail hour; a shot of them leaning in close, for the dance, tired but smiling; a shot of the cake with its multiple tiers, the frosting strung like banners across it; another where both of them are holding onto the cutting knife together and Genevieve looks like she is trying not to laugh; a shot of the bouquet toss, the flowers suspended in mid-air). She tells him about the conversations she and Genevieve had with others about marriage and their futures and their plans for their honeymoon.

Then she lectures him on how he should worry about his health first, next time. She tells him, in no uncertain terms, that she’s fully prepared to give him a piece of her mind the next time he tries to pull something like this. She insists that his health is more important than anything. Vincent stands off to the side the entire time, his arms crossed, passively listening in, but when Yves looks over helplessly, mid-lecture, he definitely looks a little smug. 

All in all, she doesn’t seem disappointed in him at all. And, more importantly, she seems happy. Yves finds himself relieved, at this.

Genevieve stops by, too, a little later, to thank him for the advice he’d given her the day before the wedding. She hugs him too, and she leaves him a bag of tea that she promises “is practically a cure to anything—I hope it makes your flight home tomorrow a little more tolerable.” Victoire stops by, with Leon, and Yves resigns himself to more lecturing from the both of them. It’s humbling, a little, to be lectured by his younger sister and his younger brother, though he concedes that perhaps this time, it might be at least partially warranted.

Then Leon opens their hotel fridge to show him the two creme brulees he and Vincent had missed out on, packaged nicely in small paper containers. (“Vincent told me you were interested in these,” he says, and Yves finds himself slightly mortified—but perhaps also a little endeared—that whatever it was that he’d said last night, offhandedly, Vincent had deemed it important enough to text Leon about.)

Later, after Yves showers and gets changed—when he and Vincent eat the creme brulees at the table in the living room, and Vincent tells him that he’s finished the book, perhaps a little masochistically (“it doesn’t get any better,” he says, sounding a little spiteful)—Yves finds himself smiling.

He’s happy, he realizes, despite everything that’s happened. Even with the slight headache, and the lingering congestion, the fever that hasn’t quite gone away entirely. The revelation comes as a surprise to him, at first. But when he thinks about the people he’s surrounded with, he thinks perhaps it isn’t all that surprising.

—

EPILOGUE

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Vincent asks.

“Yes,” Yves says. It’s not a lie.

This time, he’s seated right next to the window, and Vincent is in the middle seat. Yves had offered to take the middle seat instead, but Vincent had insisted(“If you wanted to sleep, you could lean against the window,” he’d said, and Yves had accepted only because it would be better to fall asleep against the window than do something embarrassing, like fall asleep on Vincent’s shoulder).

“It’s just the annoyidg residual symptoms, now,” he says. “I—”

God. He always has the worst timing. He veers away, muffling a tightly contained sneeze into his shoulder.

“hHEH-’IIDDZschH-yyEW! Snf-! I’mb — hHhEHh’DjjsSHH-iEW! Ugh, I’m fine. I feel better thad I sound.”

“Bless you,” Vincent says, leaning over to press his hand against Yves’s forehead. “No fever,” he says. “That’s good. But you should take another day off when we get back.”

Yves doesn’t think taking another day off is necessary. “I spedt the entirety of yesterday sleeping,” he says. “I think I’ve rested enough.”

Vincent just raises an eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you that someone very wise told you to take it easy?”

“Since when has Aimee been your spokesperson?”

“She made a lot of good points,” Vincent says, deceptively unassuming. “I think you should consider taking notes.”

Yves looks at him for a moment. “You’re laughing at me.”

This time, Vincent smiles. “Maybe.”

Yves leans back in his seat, reaching up with one hand to massage his temples. The changing cabin pressure is not exactly comfortable—his head still hurts a little, but he’s flown enough times to know that it won’t be as much of a problem once they finish their ascent. 

“Thadks again for coming,” he says, unwrapping one of the small, packaged pillows the airline has left on their seats. 

“You invited me,” Vincent says, blinking. “All I did was show up.”

But that isn’t true at all, Yves thinks. Vincent is the one who spent time learning basic French, who met Yves’s family and who spoke with everyone with genuine interest, who bought Yves medicine and water, all while being careful to not be overbearing. Vincent is the one who left the wedding early to walk Yves back to the hotel, who stayed with him the entire day afterwards.

“That’s such a huge understatement I don’t even kdow where to get started,” Yves says. “Thanks for meetidg my family—they love you, by the way. They’re going to be askidg about you every summer from now on, I just know it.”

He can already picture it—June, this year, after busy season is over, if their fake relationship lasts that long. Another flight where they’re next to each other. Another dozen conversations about how they’d met, about what it’s like dating a coworker, about what their plans for the future are.

Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. This was never meant to be a long-term arrangement in the first place. But something about this—about being here with Vincent—just feels so unthinkingly easy.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says. “The feeling is mutual. I’m glad I got to meet them.”

“Thanks for looking after me, too,” Yves says, with another apologetic smile. “I’mb sure being stuck in a hotel room all day wasn’t how you were planning on spending your last day of vacation.”

“I don’t mind,” Vincent says, sounding strangely like he means it. “I like spending time with you.”

Yves nearly drops the pillow he’s holding. 

When he looks back at Vincent, Vincent looks faintly amused. “Is that so surprising? I think I’d be a terrible fake boyfriend if I didn’t.”

“You make a really good one, as it stands,” Yves tells him, sincerely, and Vincent smiles.

Yves looks out the window—where the city beneath them begins to resolve itself into miniature, where the sky stretches where he can see Vincent reflected faintly back at him, from the glass—and finds that he feels impossibly light.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #when i set off to write a slow burn h/c fic i don't think i expected it to be 28k words #this was a journey for me... thank you sincerely to everyone who's joined me for the ride 😭 #i am not sure if this specific chapter feels rushed? or if it's too short? (if it does i'm very sorry 🙇‍♀️) #some thoughts... (spoilers ahead; pls read the chapter before proceeding) #1) this installment in particular is something of a turning point in their relationship development (and i hope that's not too subtle) #2) vincent not being like a traditionally 'soft' caretaker and having his frustration show a little more openly is something i've had in my #head for awhile :') it was fun to let that crystallize this chapter #yvverse #my fic

[1004tyun-archive]

❥ territorial

✿ pairing: taehyun x noona!reader

✿ summary: someone from your past shows up when you least expect it and taehyun doesn't take too kindly to the way they talk to you, so he takes you home with the intention of showing both you and the world just who you belong to

» this is an informal sequel to late bloomer ♪

✿ genres: non-idol au, established relationship, smut

✿ warnings: possessive taehyun, soft dom! taehyun, daddy kink (NOT ddlg, don't get it twisted), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation

✿ word count: 2.5k words

✿ a/n: hello everyone! ^_^ with how well late bloomer has been received, i figured i would make a nice little contained sequel-ish fic! i hope you enjoy~ ♡

It’s another romantic date weekend. This time you’re seated in one of the restaurants you’ve always wanted to go to, but could never afford. So of course, Taehyun decided to book a reservation as soon as he heard you mention it once in passing.

The dark ambiance is soothing and sensual, but as you and Taehyun play footsies underneath the table like lovesick teenagers and exchange playful glances, you want nothing more than to get the check and get him alone.

“Was it everything you expected?” Taehyun asks, taking another sip of wine.

“Everything and more,” you respond, chin resting on your palm. “I think I love it even more because you’re here.”

Taehyun smiles at you, shy and boyish and butterflies fill your stomach.

You can’t get out of this crowded, overpriced restaurant soon enough.

The moment you step outside, you’re greeted by the warm, summer evening air. You revel in the happiness you feel whenever you’re with Taehyun. All you’re doing is walking to your car while linking pinkies and yet, the butterflies won’t stop.

“Y/N?”

Your heart stops and those butterflies come to a screeching halt.

You know that grating voice anywhere and the last place you wanted to hear it was during a date. You can feel your mood quickly souring.

“Hi, Youngjae,” you say unenthusiastically.

“I hardly recognized you. You don’t usually look so… sexy.”

The older man looks you up and down and you can already see where this is going. You don’t hesitate to grab Taehyun’s hand and pull him toward the car.

“If I knew you had a body like that, I would’ve smashed a long time ago,” he yells after you.

Taehyun whips his head around, his grip on your hand loosening as he stomps towards the other man.

“Excuse me?” he says.

“Come on, let’s go,” you grab Taehyun’s hand and continue to the car. The air in the car is nothing short of tense and suffocating.

“Who was that?” Taehyun asks.

You sigh, “An old co-worker. We used to work the night shift together, and he’d always say the stupidest shit to get a rise out of me. Don’t bother getting angry about him, he’s just a weirdo.”

“He’s more than a weirdo,” Taehyun says tersely. “Did you hear the way he was talking about you?”

“Ignoring him is a lot easier than playing into whatever stupid jokes he’s telling.”

Taehyun looks doubtful, but you’re not sure how else to convince him.

“Tae, we don’t even work together anymore. The chances of me running into him again are slim to none.”

“That’s not the problem. It’s the fact that he thought that was okay to say to you in the first place. That guy has no concept of boundaries.”

The rest of the drive back to Taehyun’s place is silent. You’re definitely not going to hear the end of this when you get back.

An hour passes and you can just feel Taehyun stewing in his own irritation even as you sit on opposite sides of the couch together in your pajamas. He has the habit of sucking the air out of a room whenever something bothers him.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset,” you sigh.

“How could I not be? You’re taking this a lot better than I am. How long has he been saying things like that to you? Can’t he take a hint?”

“Tae, just leave it. I don’t wanna think about that creep anymore. Let’s enjoy the rest of our night. Please?”

You jump on Taehyun’s lap and hug him and he wraps his arms around your waist. He starts to succumb to you, no puppy eyes required this time around.

“Fine,” he says, softness in his voice. “He was right about one thing, though. You do look sexy,” he says, hands traveling up your waist as he kisses you.

You sigh as you feel his tongue and his teeth graze your skin. He lightly bites your neck and leaves a few hickies in his wake.

You yelp when Taehyun suddenly gets you on your back and hovers over you. He pauses to look at you for a moment, taking in your form.

“He doesn’t get to see you like this,” he leans down to kiss your neck. “Or kiss you like this,” he kisses your inner thigh, trailing kisses all the way up to your panties. He hooks his fingers underneath the fabric, pulls your panties to the side, and licks a long strip against your folds. “Or taste you like this.”

You gasp as he lightly tugs at your lips with his teeth and kisses your pussy.

Your fingers thread through his hair as he continues to lick and kiss your folds.

“Tastes so good,” he moans and your heart skips a beat. You’ve been in this same position before, same location and everything, but something about him saying that makes your heart swell.

He hand slides under your slip dress and over your bare stomach to squeeze your breast and pinch your nipple between his fingers. You decide to play with the other breast, pinching your nipple and watching as Taehyun devours you. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hips buck upward when he sucks your pussy.

“Oh, fuck…!” you moan. You can feel Taehyun smirk against your skin. He must feel like he’s hit the jackpot because he continues to do it, sucking your folds and licking your core in long strokes.

He pulls away from your core and, for a moment, you think he’s done with you, but your eyes widen when you watch him spit on your pussy, the saliva leaving his lips in a thick string and falling right onto your already dripping core.

He returns to your pussy, the flat of his tongue gliding against your folds and flicking against your clit. You’re seeing stars and you can barely form words as he devours your pussy so sloppily, so noisily. The living room is full of the sounds of him licking and sucking your pussy, and the salacious moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

He moans against your skin like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

You feel your orgasm creeping up on you, pressure building in your hips to the point where it’s painful.

Before you can even warn him of your approaching orgasm, you come undone, back arching off of the couch and your grip on his hair tightening.

Taehyun is relentless on your pussy, flicking his tongue against your clit as you writhe through the waves of pleasure, unable to escape the bruising grip he has on your hips. He latches his lips to your clit and sucks on it as you cum, sending another successive orgasm ripping through you.

He takes his time lapping up every drop of your arousal as you come down from your high. He lifts his head up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and licks his lips.

“Can you make it to the bed?” he asks. You’re a little jarred at him asking so soon, but you slowly stand up, wobbling as you do so.

“Sure. My legs feel like they’re made of jelly though,” you laugh, then scream when Taehyun suddenly scoops you up into a bridal carry.

“I got you,” he says with a confident smile. Your heart is hammering away in your chest as you cling to him.

You fall onto the bed and watch Taehyun peel his shirt off. By the time his shirt hits the floor, he’s on the bed and his lips are already on yours. He orders you to lift your hips up and you do exactly that, heat rising in your cheeks as he rolls your panties off of your body.

He’s quick to return to your lips, kissing you deeply. You’re squeezing your thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction. Taehyun takes notice of this and rubs his fingers against your core. You break from the kiss, panting as a string of saliva cascading from your lips.

“Taehyun,” you whine. “I-It’s not enough. I need more…”

“More? What do you mean?” Taehyun tilts his head and you feel yourself get embarrassed. He knows exactly what you mean, both you and him know this, but he loves to get you to say exactly what you want.

“I need you…”

“What do you need from me, princess?” he slides his fingers up and down against your folds, you jolt when the pads of his fingers graze past your swollen clit.

“I need your cock inside me,” you whine. “Please, baby.”

“So needy…” Taehyun says softly, suppressing a smile. He retracts his fingers from your core and you notice them glistening with your arousal. He licks his fingers clean and gets you on your back, surrounded by soft pillows and supported by the softness of his mattress.

Taehyun aligns the tip of his already leaking cock against your core and you suck in a breath. He isn’t even inside you yet but you feel like you’re finally being put out of your misery.

He slips the tip into you, and that’s enough to send chills down your spine. He pulls out and pushes the tip back in over and over, relishing in your wetness and the way your pussy clenches around him and sucks him in. You moan in frustration and he holds back a smile.

“Taehyun, please…” you whine.

“Hm, not yet,” he says. “I wanna play with you a little longer. You’re a big girl, Y/N. You can take it, can’t you?”

You nod, tears already brimming your eyes. You’re not sure you can take this teasing any longer, but the sooner you feel him inside you, the better.

He pushes a little further past his tip and you feel a familiar pressure in your hips.

You whimper, “P-Please, daddy!”

Taehyun sits back and suddenly, it’s like something in him changes. Like a fire has been ignited inside him.

“Oh, you want daddy’s cock?”

You nod, tears spilling from your eyes. Taehyun slides his cock against your folds, covering himself in your wetness. You throb as he grabs the backs of your thighs and pushes your knees to your chest.

“Good girl, so patient,” he coos, before finally pushing his entire length into you. You scramble for purchase, your nails digging into Taehyun’s strong forearms. Your body feels like it’s engulfed in burning white hot pleasure.

“Does daddy make you feel full?” he breathes.

“Mhm, d-daddy’s cock makes me feel so full,” you say and you feel Taehyun’s cock twitch hard inside you.

He pistons in and out of you, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips.

“I’m the best you’ll ever have, aren’t I, princess?” he whispers as he pounds into you.

“M-Mhm, you’re… th-the best,” you babble.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you this good, aren’t I?”

You can barely form words, pleasure overtaking every cell in your body and turning your brain to mush.

“Poor baby can hardly speak,” he says in a such a sweet, yet mocking tone. “Is daddy making you feel that good?”

He thrusts faster and you can feel your orgasm coming at you like a speeding train. You dig your nails into Taehyun’s forearms, leaving crescent indents in his skin. A string of curse words spill from your lips as you come undone all over his cock.

You’re given but a moment’s reprieve before you’re suddenly shifted from your back to your side. Taehyun props your knee up on his shoulder. Your pussy clenches hard around his cock, and you bury your face in the nearest pillow.

You expect him to slow down for you, but you’re immediately proven wrong when he pushes into you and bottoms out. Tears sting the corners of your eyes as Taehyun starts to move, you feel that familiar coil tighten in the pit of your stomach.

“I-I can’t…!” you cry.

“You can do it. Come on, give it to me,” Taehyun pants and you squeak as his firm hand smacks your thigh. You flinch at the stinging impact of his hand on your flesh, but it only adds to the overwhelming, dizzying pleasure.

“Want me to cum inside?”

You frantically nod, it’s all you have the brain power to do at this point.

“Beg for it, then. Beg for me to paint your pretty walls with my cum, princess.”

“P-Please, daddy,” you sputter. “Please give me your cum, please fill me up, please! I need it!”

“Anything for you,” you can’t see him but you can hear the satisfaction in his voice. His tempo increases and you can feel his hips stutter against you.

“So damn pretty when you cry, baby,” he says with a moan. “You’re— mm, so cute. I want to see my pretty baby cry on my cock.”

You turn you head so that Taehyun can see your entire face, tears running down your face. You grip the sheets so tightly, crying as the pressure builds in your lower stomach. Your body stills as the last of your energy is sapped from you. In the dizziness of your orgasm, you feel Taehyun’s cum fill you up.

Despite being spent, you still feel a little sad when you feel Taehyun pull out.

“Princess, you got the bed all wet,” he admonishes you so softly. You know he doesn’t mean it by the way his eyes glitter.

“My messy princess…” he whispers, sliding his fingers against your wet folds. You shrink into yourself and shut your legs, completely embarrassed. Taehyun doesn’t let you shy away, opening your legs back up and playing with your pussy. You shudder under his touch and turn away.

“Don’t be shy, you know I like to look at you,” he says, which only serves to make you more flustered. “Do you have any idea how lucky I feel? I’m the only one who gets to see this.”

You can’t imagine you look super good right now with mascara running down your cheeks. But Taehyun leans down to kiss you on the cheek anyway and lovingly cups your face.

“You did so well,” he says. He falls beside you on the bed, immediately searching for your hand and holding it in his. “You’ve never called me daddy before. I think I like it.”

“I like it too,” you say with a sigh. “But you know what I like even more?”

“What?”

“Being able to feel my legs.”

Taehyun chuckles, “I went a little overboard, huh?”

“Eh, just a little,” you snuggle into Taehyun’s side and he pulls you closer.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “How does a bath sound? We can have the plum liquor you brought last week too.”

“Sounds perfect… daddy.”

🌹 taglist: @shampgyu @banggyu0308 @rencarnationofangel @cherrypeaking 🌹

#txt fic #taehyun fic #taehyun oneshot #taehyun smut #txt smut #crystal's fics #terry bear 🐻‍❄️❤️‍🔥 #this was a lot of fun to write!! #there’s something about tyun being called daddy by an older woman that just…. yeah #daddy taehyun 😫😫😫😫😫

[jrdnmichelle]

i did this supernatural display as a commission! i thought you guys might like it even though it's not my usual type of display.

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn fanart #spn #sam winchester #spn fandom #spn fanfic #spn fanworks #spnfandom #spn dean #spn sam winchester #spn dean winchester #assemblage #assemblage art #assemblage artist #art display #crystal art #diorama #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanart #spn crack #supernatural family #spn fan #spn rp #supernatural fan art #supernatural fan fic #the winchester brothers #dean #sam and dean

[rizaposting]

have not been able to shake a weird little idea that I have no idea how to start or how to end where the premise is: ~5 years Post-CoS or maybe longer, Ed somehow manages to get blipped back into Amestris (Al also, but he got tossed somewhere else) and somehow contacts Mustang and they just end up sitting in a bar trying to figure out How The Hell This Is Possible What The Fuck. Mustang is older and more mellow and that kind of freaks Ed out, who wants the familiarity of bickering with him in this desperately weird situation. They're both kind of cagey and don't know what to say and neither of them are very forthcoming about their lives.

Eventually they end up going back to Roy's home and he's got a nice house in the suburbs with a weird gravel driveway and there's a single porchlight left on, and Roy says "Oh, by the way, keep your voice down my wife is asleep" and Edward is like "who the fuck would agree to marry you lmfao" And Roy is just. Mmh. Because he's really not looking forward to Edward finding out he married Fucking Lieutenant Hawkeye.

The issue is that there's a clear story there, how did the Elrics get there? Where is Al, what is he doing? Etc. But all I want to focus on is, like... Ed as an observer to domestic royai moments LOL. Rummaging through all their pictures and trinkets. Sleepy Riza shuffling around in a fluffy robe in the mornings like a grandma. Roy trying to take up gardening and being in an ongoing war with the rabbits that are eating the shit out of their raised beds. The closed door that Ed is NOT allowed to look into that's totally not a half-built nursery that puts some of their suspicious behavior into perspective. Do you see my issue? I could tell a cool story but my brain is slop

#crystal convos #fic talk #delete later #maybe #ggrrrrr this idea has been in my brain for. months. a year? but i have so little for it i cant even think of how to make it a oneshot

[ghostsessioned]

my son daughter is home !

#artfart #the dark crystal #the dark crystal art #the dark crystal fanart #the dark crystal : age of resistance #age of resistance #tdc #tdc aor #aor #rian #rian the gelfling #brave rian #stonewood #stonewood clan #hunter rian #seismic fic #my fucking BABYYYYY #baby boy girl #i missed him

[snazzilystoopid]

Hello there, fellow Ninjago fan....

I wonder, are you looking for Ninjago fics to read..?

WELL GOOD NEWS I'M HERE WITH A LIST OF AMAZING FICS FROM QUOTEV JUST FOR YOU!! <33

List is below heheh

Also just real quick: Some of these fics are not updated often/not updated anymore! These are all fem readers/ocs, but if they are gn or male I'll lyk. These are also catered to Cole lovers (ofc) but there are some other pretty good ones too!!

Dandelions~ Lloyd x Reader

https://www.quotev.com/story/15255742/dandelions-LloydG-x-reader

This is a reader insert, and I think is a gn reader if I recall. I haven't read it in a while, but I do remember really enjoying it! It's rarely updated, and has under 100 pages currently, but it's worth the read. Promise!

Element of Wishes~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/15032547/ELEMENT-OF-WISHES-LEGO-Ninjago

I LOVE THIS FIC SMM!! This is an OC fic, following the story of an elemental master of wishes, who also just so happens to be half-djinn! It currently has over 200 pages as well. You read through the events of Ninjago as normal, but also get to read interesting parts about the mc's own personal quest to find answers! SKYLOR ALSO PLAYS A BIG ROLE IN IT AND I LOVE THAT SM (Most of s1 has been skipped though). Cole is the current love interest, the author can sometimes leave updating for like 4 months lmao, but they have started updating regularly again! One of my all-time favourite fics! I'M CURRENTLY READING IT RN AND I LOVE ITTT

The Master of Wind~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/7985682/The-Master-of-Wind

I another one I haven't read for a bit, but let me tell you: I LOVED THIS BOOK WITH A BURNING PASSION OMG. Its also pretty long, with like 900 pages lol. I generally love the concept of a master of wind, more so because I love Morro, but anyways, this book is spectacular. The love interest is Lloyd, and its a bit of a slow burn, but its worth it. Sadly it hasn't been updated for 3 months now, but I am hopeful that the author will update it soon!

Just An Illusion~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/14405232/Just-an-Illusion

Another short-ish book with under 100 pages, but I really loved this one!! The fic begins at the Tournament of Elements, and I don't think there is a current love interest. But seriously the way I read and reread this book is acc insane 😭 The fic unfortunately has been left for 8 months as I think the author is taking a break, but I'm pretty confident that Just an Illusion will continue!

Stoneheart~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/14081498/Stoneheart-Ninjago-Masters-of-Spinjitzu

THIS BOOK WAS AMAZING. I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. The fic follows the story of an OC, who isn't from Ninjago, and who ends up joining the Ninja. Another MASSIVE book with over 800 pages and chock-full with a bunch of amazing original characters, and you're in for a good ride, trust me! I don't think there is a definite love interest, but it does seem to be leaning towards a certain character hehe (and no its not Cole unfortunately). Its being updated regularly-ish and I promise you will NOT regret reading it!

The Infinite Series~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/14276031/Infinite-Serenity-INFINITE-SERIES-BOOK-1

Another fic I enjoyed, this tells the story of the reader who died and had been reincarnated into a show from their childhood, LEGO Ninjago (obviously lol). There are two books in the series, the first one is linked above and you should be able to find the second one from there. I don't remember if there was a love interest or not but I do remember that the mc's personal story is really cool and so so creative! Book 1 had around 400 words and book 2 has like 300, however it hasn't been updated in 7 months 💔 still worth the read!

The Last~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/10806407/The-Last-LEGO-Ninjago-Masters-of-Spinjitzu-X-Reader

THE LAST. I LOVED THE LAST SO MUCH OMG. IM JUST SO SAD IT HASN'T BEEN UPDATED SINCE 2021 😭💔. This book is a Reader insert, where the mc is the last of their species, and joins the Ninja team, though I don't remember if there was a love interest or not, you'll have to read to find out because I really don't remember haha. Though the book has just over 100 pages, there aren't many chapters, and I don't think it's past s1 yet. Its still a good read, however, and I think a lot of you guys would like it!

The Colour of Hope & The Race Against Time~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/15708101/Ninjago-The-Color-of-Hope

THIS FIC IS EPIC. ITS AMAZING. It follows the story of a girl who becomes a target for a mysterious gang, and ends up in the care and protection of none other than the Ninja! (The Colour of Hope takes place between Day of the Departed and s7). The love interest is Cole, and the writing as absolutely phenomenal! This is a series, and the first book is linked above. The next book has only recently been made, so I have the upmost confidence that it'll be regularly updated, since the first one was too! Book 1 had around 250 pages I think. I PROMISE. You will wanna read it.

The Indigo and Black Series~ OC(s)

https://www.quotev.com/story/11634295/Indigo-and-Black-Pilots-Rise-of-the-Snakes-and-Destiny-of-the-Green-Ninja

I ENJOYED THIS BOOK SO MUCH! This follows the tale of not 1, but 2 mcs who are both OCs! One is the master of Time, the other, the master of Forces + Shadows. A Three-part series with 3 books, and the love interests are Cole and Kai! (Sorry Kailor fans 😭) The last book was updated around 6 months ago, but I did some digging and turns out the authors are still working on the next book, so I hope it comes out soon!

Kiss Me Baby~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/14954138/Kiss-Me-Baby-Ninjago

Suprisingly, this is actually a fic based on the universe of the Ninjago Movie, and I really enjoyed it! The reader is a confident teen who joins Ninjago High, but is secretly the mystery person who managed to get Lord Garmadon into prison, putting a stop to all his attacks on Ninjago City. A short book with under 100 pages, but it is also going through a rewrite if I recall. No definite love interest, but there is an implied one (once again, *sigh* it isn't Cole). Also, just throwing it out there, I was awake at like 4am reading this 😭

The Truth~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/9767787/The-Truth

THIS BOOK WAS LEGENDARY. I REREAD IT ALL THE TIME OML I LOVED IT. This book is all about a girl who somehow knows every member of the Ninja, though they don't actually remember her themselves. It begins at the Tournament of Elements, and runs right up to March of the Oni, where it has stopped being updated for quite a few months now 💔. The love interest is Cole, and honestly can I just say, this book was written SO WELL. Like I wish I could write like that 😭😭

Aaaaand that is all! If I DID have to pick my top 3, it would be as follows:

1ST~The Truth

2ND~Element of Wishes

3RD~ The Colour of Hope & The Race Against Time

I personally think these ones were/are the most engaging and exciting! I'm not saying the others were bad though. You'll wanna read them all. Trust me.

I hope yall enjoy these fics! <33

#ninjago fic #ninjago fanfiction #cole brookstone #lego ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago fanart #ninjago #ninjago fandom #ninjago headcanons #cole ninjago #kai x reader #cole x reader #ninjago lloyd #lloyd x reader #fanfic #dragons rising #ninjago crystalized #day of the departed #tournament of elements #ninjago x reader #ninjago x oc #ninjago rewrite #ninjago hc #master wu #lord garmadon #nya jiang #jay walker #zane julien #skylor chen #march of the oni

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism as your Older Sibling

G/N. Fluffy and stupid. Goo with influencer sib, Gun with Yakuza sib, Protective big sib DG, general Ten Genius interaction (Crystal, Kouji etc.)

Goo with Influencer Younger Sibling!Reader

Goo regrets introducing you to Crystal.

Especially when you talk work, NewTube and Influencer shit and he has no idea what's going on.

Especially when you two whisper and giggle like school children, excluding everyone else from the conversation.

Especially when you two gang up on him, the uncool older brother. Which is ridiculous by the way. Because by what measure on earth, in the goddamn universe, would Goo Kim be considered uncool? People would pay to know him!

Well. People would pay more to know you. People do pay for your meet and greets but whatever. Who's keeping count anyway.

(You and Crystal hated each other at first sight. Goo expected it and gleefully introduced you anyway, knowing Crystal hated attractive people. Hypocrite, much?

You had rightfully called her out on it, along with some other choice names. And though it didn't help with her prejudices, she did grow exceedingly fond of you.)

But, he thinks as he watches you both, it is nice to have the Business Genius take you under her wing. To have you two tittering away together and Crystal looking out for you.

"Come on loser, let's go for lunch!" You beckon your big brother over and Goo resists the urge to shove you out the window. Who's a loser?!

Not Yandere!DG with Younger Sibling!Reader

"And who is this school friend you're meeting at the arcade?" DG regards you coolly, eyebrow arched and arms folded.

"James!" you pout, "Can I go or not?"

"How many times must I tell you to stop calling me James."

"Fine. Diego," and a giggle bursts out of you. It does every time you have to say his stupid new name. "But it's so silly."

His cold demeanour cracks and his lips lift, "You picked it."

"Yeah when I was like, nine," you roll your eyes, "I didn't think you would actually use it."

It's the same song and dance you two do every time. A nice reminder of everything you have both been through. And though everyone tends to call him DG now, whenever someone calls him Diego, all he can think of is your wide smile and big eyes as you told him how much you loved that name all those years ago.

Now? Well. The years have passed and the wide smile and big eyes are replaced with a sullen teenage expression more often than not.

Still. It's you and him against the world. How can he not be protective over you when you're the most precious thing in the world.

"Dieeeeego, please!"

But it doesn't hurt to loosen the tether now and then.

"Fine but text me and-"

"Be back by 10pm. I know!" You reach up to give your brother a kiss on the cheek then sprint out before he can change his mind.

"9pm!" DG shouts, just before hearing the door slam.

Gun with Younger Yakuza Sibling!Reader

Power skirmishes between siblings are not uncommon. Even with the hierarchy and principles of the Yakuza, unrest and violent backstabbing is to be expected.

Gun realises this. Is forever grateful that he can leave all the troubles of Japan behind knowing that you are at the helm of the Yamazaki family.

That with stepping foot back into Japan, into the family home, power is easily and smoothly handed back to him.

No troubles, no quarrels, no headaches.

"Yuzuru!"

Gun hears your scream before your thundering footsteps. Barely manages to brace himself for you throwing your weight at him, hugging him tight and welcoming him back.

Honorifics and formalities completely forgotten. Just a brief moment between two siblings. Gun hardly ever returns your embrace, though he does give you a small smile. Two of the most revered and feared people known this side of Asia and yet-

"I've missed you big bro!" You grin at him, blood smeared over your kimono and now all over his white suit too. "Some guys were out of line. I put them in their place for you!"

He gives you a small nod.

To say thank you, I trust you, and it's good to be back.

You, the Lil Sibling of the Geniuses

(DG, Goo, Gun, Kouji, Crystal)

"Here," DG hands over a piece of autographed merch to you. From some k-pop flavour of the month, the current No. 1 in the charts.

He usually wouldn't do this but when he first said no, Crystal, Kouji, Gun and Goo whipped their head around at him.

(Frankly, it is eerie how in sync they all are when it comes to you.)

Individually threatening him with breaking every bone in his body (Gun), with dying his ugly hair uglier (Goo), with deep fakes (Kouji) and with plummeting his share prices (Crystal).

Fuck's sake. He was only joking. Like he ever says no to you anyway.

.

.

.

.

Crystal and Kouji exchange worried looks.

A four way brawl won't end well, especially when there's such a power discrepany. Sure, you're strong, but compared to Gun, Goo and DG. Well...

It's only a matter of time before someone, likely you, gets seriously hurt.

.

.

"I fucking told you," Gun snaps at Goo as the blonde holds his hand up in surrender, eyes darting over to you in concern.

"Sorry sweetheart!"

DG sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. As the eldest here he really should have foreseen this coming. But when you said you wanted to test your strength, to see how you measure up-

He really really should have said no.

"You fucking idiot," Gun turns on you, examining your broken arm carefully, "Did you forget when we broke your leg?"

"N-no," you sniffle because goddamn it. It really fucking hurts. In a small voice, "I thought I was stronger now..."

"You're not."

"Don't talk to them like that!" Goo snaps, joining your other side and patting your hair gently. "But," and he grimaces, "You're not."

"It's my fault," DG adds, taking in the scene before him as Crystal and Kouji now come rushing over with the on-site doctor.

If there's one thing Gun and Goo can agree on-

They both nod.

Yeah, fuck DG. It's not your fault (it is). It's all his fault (it's not).

#man i dont get the crystal hate #i will change the narrative to whatever suits me lmao sorry #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #gun park #kim joongoo #park jonggun #lookism dg #lookism james lee #wannaeatramyeon #lookism fic #lookism fanfic

[gintrinsic-writing]

One Week In

For @meanlesbean! CW: body horror

--

It was an honest mistake. That was the best thing that could be said about the situation. 

“What’s happening to him?” Warriors demanded, staring at the crystal laying mere inches from Time’s shadow-cloaked body. “What is that thing?”

Twilight snatched the crystal up before anyone else could touch it. The urge to transform pulled at him, dark magic prickling beneath his skin. He was able to resist only due to experience. “It’s a magical item. I didn’t mean for—”

“It’s cursed!” Legend snapped. Several of the rings on his fingers flashed threateningly as he took a step back. 

Suddenly, the shadows around Time condensed and sharpened into little black prisms that dimmed the light around them. When they fell away, they dissipated like spun sugar on the tongue. 

Time’s skin melted much the same way. 

“Sweet Hylia,” Sky breathed. Then the screaming began. 

Time doubled over and howled, the sound too guttural to be Hylian. The flesh of his hands peeled and curled, large splinters of wood sprouting from the joints of his fingers. The vertebrae along his back fractured, each loud pop accompanied by a protrusion of heavily keratinized skin. He clawed at the sides of his face as if reaching for something, the pits of his eyes—first blue, then orange, then a depthless black—leaking jelly and blood. He grew and shrank and grew again, his clothes splitting at the seams. The muscles between his ribs parted as though from a sharp instrument, the overlying skin fluttering with every pained, shrieking exhale. 

“The Master Sword!” Twilight ordered frantically, his pulse racing from fear. “Sky, touch him with the sword! Hurry!”

After that, it was over almost as quickly as it began. Sky pressed the flat of the blade against one of Time’s spasming legs, and they all watched in horror as the transformations ceased; scales fell away like confetti, claws sloughed from weeping nail beds, fibrous roots slithered out of abused veins. Time wailed where he lie. 

Before Twilight could summon his wits enough to move, there was a metal rasp, then a blade was held to his throat. “You better have a good fucking explanation, dark,” Legend hissed, ignoring the startled sounds from the other heroes. “I’m not inclined to give a second chance.”

#the shadow crystal really be showing your Other Form huh??? #head canon that the transformative masks have left permanent marks on OoT Link #and the Crystal brings them all to the forefront at once #poor time what a miserable wretch #of course legend chooses the path most paranoid #(can you blame him) #imaging this only several days into their quest #so trust hasn't been established #and not every hero has been accounted for #shadow crystal #lu time #lu twilight #lu legend #lu fic #linked universe #gintrinsic writing #lu sky #lu warriors