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angelfoxx · 8 months

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how about a petit reader like 1.53 or 5'0 (size difference) with keegan, ghost or konig?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ HI, SHORT STUFF. ❞

… in which you’re (much) shorter than they are.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, könig (does he have a last name or anything???) & keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: suggestive per usual. daily dose of shameless keegan hornyposting

NOTE/S: as a relatively small girlie myself (5’5, so not as short but still not tall) this one makes me giggle. tee hee tall babies tall babies

★ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✦ — He’s six foot four. Add on whatever height those boots give him, and he’s got a good foot and a half on you. It makes him even more intimidating in the beginning, because he’s just…a big guy. He’s loud and kind of scary and he’s just a fucking tank of a guy, all flat muscle and ridiculous height.

✦ — Once you two are…acquainted, physically…he sort of uses his size to his advantage. Not necessarily sexually. He’s quick to act as a human shield if anything is thrown your way. His first instinct when you two are in a crowded room is to shadow you, which is totally fine, but he’s enormous and so you can just sort of always see the edge of his silhouette in the tops of your peripherals.

✦ — You’re so much smaller than him, and beyond his usual hurt-my-troops-you-hurt-me demeanor, now you two are involved — and you’re so much smaller than him, and you’re so…little. You’re so little and it’s not that he thinks you’re weak but you’re so much smaller than him and most of the other people on the base. So when he sort of fights your battles for you, frets over you doing certain tasks on the field, et cetera, it’s not because he thinks you’re weak or incapable. He’s just…you’re so fucking short compared to everyone else. And he likes you. And you like him. And so he’s going to watch out for you even when it’s sort of pointless.

✦ — His public demeanor towards your size might be mildly annoying at times, but behind closed doors it’s a bit…different. Bringing up how overly protective he is of you results in a minor argument — when he finally lets slip that it’s partly because you’re so much fucking shorter than he is, you’re quick to argue that you’re just as capable as he is. You’re just as capable as anyone else on the base is.

✦ — He wants you to understand that he’s not coming from a place of total insanity. Most of the people on the base are guys, and they’re also usually over six foot. You’re a foot and then some shorter than almost everyone on the base. Physically, you’re at a disadvantage — and he proves that by picking you up under both arms and just…holding you there. He wants to show you that maybe he has a good reason to be “overly careful” with you. He cares about you, and you’re at such an obvious imbalance in a high-stress, rough working field.

✦ — Oopsie. Difference in size…mm. Mm. Suddenly, it seems less annoying and more arousing.

✦ — You stop complaining after you’re thrown back-first onto Ghost’s bed and the guy fucking blots out the ceiling because his shoulders are so broad and he’s tall enough to literally swallow you under his shape.

✦ — At some point, you stop complaining about Ghost being so physically overprotective of you. Actually, when there’s a crowd attending a debriefing, one of the soldiers swears that when Price mentions heavy artillery and Ghost sort of stances up behind you, a close shadow clearly unhappy with the idea of you manning the big guns, you reach back and pull his arm around your waist. Oh, and you seem to zone out looking at the way his hand is so much bigger under yours. That too.

★ KÖNIG WHATEVER THE FUCK HIS SURNAME IS.

✦ — Six foot ten. Six foot fucking ten. What the fuck? Why is he so tall? That’s almost seven feet. What the fuck? What the fuck?

✦ — He knows he’s tall. Obviously. He’s the kind of person to bully people with his height; if he’s involved in a heated argument, he’s no stranger to standing upright (he usually slouches) and sorry, but a seven-foot-tall man wearing an executioner’s mask, staring down at you from his colossal fucking height? You’re toast. Whoever he’s arguing with generally excuses themselves because dude, what the fuck? What the fuck. Hell no.

✦ — Keeping in mind that a lot of his men (and women) are on the taller side, you waltzing in at five feet tall almost makes him laugh. Because like, you’re short to everyone else, but everyone else is short to him. So you’re fucking tiny. He keeps calling you ameise, which you later learns means “ant”. He’s calling you an ant.

✦ — You’re a good soldier. In good fun, he’ll compare other soldiers to you; he’ll tell them that they’re being outshone by “eine kleine ameise”, which sort of pisses you off but you do remember that it’s a joke. Sort of. You are very short and you are outdoing other soldiers.

✦ — If/when you two get in a relationship, he’s keen to use his height against you. You go to find him in his office? He’ll stand up just so he can talk to you from two feet over your head. He’s leading a debriefing? He’ll make a point out of having you stand near him so that every time he straightens up, you have to deal with how fucking huge he is.

✦ — With his jests at your height, you often try to return the jokes. Every time he comes through a doorway, you rush over and ask if he needs ice for his forehead. Because, you know, he’s hitting his head constantly. Every time he’s on the field with you and you have to get in any sort of vehicle, you tell him that he’ll have to skip out on the ride because he’s too fucking tall to comfortably fit in the thing and putting him on the roof would make you guys an enormous target.

✦ — Your jokes sort of die down though when you’re pushed up against the wall, toes brushing the floor and breath shuddering. He’s got both forearms pinning your shoulders down and he’s pistoning his hips unfairly hard up into you and he’s sort of breathlessly laughing a wheezy cackle in your ear. “Why so quiet, meine kleine ameise? No words?”

★ KEEGAN P RUSS. THATS MY LAST NAME TOO BTW

✦ — He’s six foot one. So his height difference to you isn’t as excessive as the other two seen above, but…

✦ — He’s the most irritating about it. Probably. Because you’ll think everything is fine — he won’t think of you as any less, and he’s fully confident in your capabilities, et cetera — but the minute he gets you alone, the short jokes start. Is it chilly down there? Do you find the stairs too steep? A new truck came in this afternoon, but…well, it’s a little lifted, so you won’t be driving it. You’d only be able to get in with a step-stool — no way you’d be able to reach the pedals!

✦ — He’s insufferable. He’s fucking insufferable. It’s like you’ve opened up a Pandora’s Box of stupid fucking jokes that Keegan finds ridiculous. This shit gets genuine laughs from him. Maybe it’s the jokes or maybe it’s your reactions to them.

✦ — If/when you two are in a relationship, the jokes take a dirty turn. You’re trying to get in his pants? He’s biting his cheek and saying that he’s not sure he’ll fit, and you’re two seconds from slapping him. He makes random comments about how your knees will never turn red because you don’t even need to kneel in order to suck him off. Et cetera. Half the time the jokes go over your head and it takes you a good ten or fifteen seconds of being confused in order for you to realize that he’s making sex jokes at you. By that time, he’s usually turning away and biting back amusement.

✦ — He seems to take a great joy in bringing you stupid gifts. Ever the romantic; if you’re both scouting on a looser mission, he’ll pick you flowers. Specifically, though, he’ll pick you tiny flowers. Or, like, petals. He asks you to carry his rifle and walks behind you because apparently it’s the same height (or taller) than you are and it’s funny to watch. At one point, he gets his hands on a tiny model gun and he’s practically bursting at the seams to gift it to you as a “proper size gun”.

✦ — He knows he can make those jokes and get under your skin. He doesn’t care, though. When he’s laying in his barracks with you sitting on his stomach and jabbing him in the chest with that stupid toy gun, he’s just smirking like an idiot. He finds how easy you are to irritate so incredibly fun to mess with. He’s just sort of egging you on the whole time. “Yeah? I’m bothering you? I’m frustrating you?”

✦ — You’re still complaining and whining, so eventually he just starts flipping the script. He’s saying it’s so good you’re short because it makes it so much easier for him to flip you over and pin your shoulders down, and it makes it so much easier for him to wrap his arms around your mouth to keep you quiet when you two are tangled in his sheets at night with his teeth buried in your shoulder and his hips flush to yours, and you fit so nice and snug around him…

#cod x reader #cod smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #konig smut #konig x reader #konig #keegan smut #keegan x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 2 months

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I don't know you anymore (maybe I never really did)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: fluff, angst (happy ending to come)

warnings: slytherin reader, some serious emotional dodging and avoidance but you know me it all ends up ok, peter is your bestie and that's just the way it is sorry, no happy ending YET but I promise it's coming this is not a tragedy

a/n: happy ending next week I love y'all too much to leave you with heartache

"Sorry, love," Remus begins to bend down, hand reaching to pick up the book you'd dropped when the two of you collided in the library, but you quickly shoot your own hand out to snatch it up first. "What are you doing here this late?"

"Getting a book," you say plainly. Remus's brows furrow slightly, his eyes drifting over your figure as if to somehow see why you're acting so strangely.

"Alright, dove. We're all planning on studying pretty late tonight - you're welcome to join us. We can always sneak you back down to the dungeons whenever you're ready to call it a night." Remus is quiet when he talks, that soothing, soft air he has about him making your shoulders drop as you lean against the bookshelf next to you.

"As if I can't sneak myself around the castle without your help," you bite back playfully. A smile twitches across Remus's lips as he thinks, just for a moment, that you're back, that you'll follow him up to his common room and spend the night laying on a couch with him, your legs slung over James's lap while you throw wads of paper at Sirius's head. His heart thumps a little painfully when he realizes that he can't remember the last time you've done that with them - he can't remember the last time you've hung out with them at all.

It's as if you remember that fact at the same time he does, as the faint smile slips off your face and you straighten. "I can't tonight," you say kindly. "But thank you." Remus blinks as you begin to move past him, your polite voice ringing through his head. Like we're strangers, he thinks weakly. Except you're not even that nice to strangers.

Remus is busy slouching against the nearest bookshelf and wondering what they possibly could have done to make you avoid them so desperately but so kindly when he hears you let out another sigh from where you've walked past him.

"Wow," Sirius drawls as Remus turns to see him and James standing in front of you and you pointedly looking past them, like you're a trapped animal searching for the nearest escape route. "I'd almost forgotten you go here still." Your gaze snaps to Sirius and you narrow your eyes at him.

"It's good to see you," James interjects, seeing the two of you size each other up and eager to avoid a showdown between you and Sirius. "How have you been, love?"

"You see me in class almost every day," you snipe back at Sirius before turning to James. "I've been busy, and I still am now so - if you'll excuse me." With that, you slip between the two of them, exiting the library swiftly. Remus sighs and Sirius scowls at the now empty doorway, James opting to look down at the floor, staring dejectedly like a kicked puppy. No doubt you're holing up down in the Slytherin dorms all night now - as far away as you can get from them. Sirius smoothes a hand over James's unruly curls as Remus squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"We'll figure this out," he says gently, and as Sirius looks at him, he begs himself to believe it.

"You lost, Pete?" You don't look up from your book as Peter plants himself in the seat opposite you, frowning at you.

"Like we've never had breakfast together before," he huffs back, and you can't stop the smile that flits across your lips at the confidence that he's so clearly been nurturing. You close your book with a thump and place your chin in your hand, staring at him and waiting for him to continue. "Half the time, you're at the Gryffindor table. It can't be so different for me to come over here."

"Hm, maybe it's not," you shrug, picking your book back up to toss it across the table at him. "Read the back of that. You can borrow it when I'm done - I think you'll like it." Peter picks it up tentatively and gets about halfway through the synopsis before he's dropping it back on the table and crossing his arms.

"You're making them miserable," he says bluntly. You pout in a mocking sort of manner, but Peter's frown tells you that he doesn't believe you're as heartless as you typically let on.

"I thought you just came here to have breakfast with me," you switch tactics.

"Tell me what's going on with you," he pushes. You straighten up in your seat.

"Why don't you just ask them?"

"I have - they don't know. Every time they try to talk to you about it, you find some reason to run away."

"Would you like to see that first hand?"

"You can't run away from me. I'll cry," Peter insists. You sniff indignantly, mostly because you know he's right. The two of you stare at each other for a long time, and it's to your surprise that he doesn't waver. Your heart does something strange in your chest when you realize that his determination may be because this is more serious than you'd thought - you're hurting them more than you thought.

"They need to get over me, Pete," you say quietly.

"Why?" He presses.

"Because if they don't then this gets messy. None of us want that," you insist. Peter softens a bit, looking sympathetic.

"It's already messy." The bite has left Peter's voice as he reaches to pat your arm across the table. You look at his hand pointedly and he's reminded swiftly that anyone else who reached out to console you like that would get a smack from you. He smiles as he thinks of the kindness that lives in you that you seem to be blind to.

"I'll talk to them," you sigh, leaning forward to let your head thump down onto the table. Peter pats the top of your head gently and, for that, he does get a smack.

"James," your voice makes him stumble to a stop, whipping around to look at you so fast that you nearly run into him, sidestepping him at the last minute as he looks at you, bewildered.

"Are you talking to me?" He asks, confusion and surprise making his voice thick. Something painful twinges in your chest at his shock. Of course I am, you want to say. Who else would I ever want to talk to?

"Yes," is all you end up saying. James shifts on his feet and looks at you a little wearily.

"Are you ok?" He asks and a breath leaves your lungs quickly.

"I'd like to talk to you… if you have a moment?" James looks at you strangely, but he just nods and leads you out of the hall to the quiet courtyard. There's no, of course I have time for you, pretty thing. I always have time for you. It's just James, stiff and silent and hurting… because of you.

"Peter says I'm making you all miserable," you say bluntly, regret immediately seeping into you at the way James flinches, sitting on the bench in front of you slowly. You stay standing in front of him, looking down at the way he runs a hand through his curls.

"It's just," he begins, looking around as if to find the answer somewhere, or maybe just to find some way of getting away from you. "If we knew what we'd done to upset you then maybe we could make it better. You're just freezing us out, lovely, and that means we can't fix… whatever it is that's happened."

"It's not…" Now it's your turn to look around vaguely, wishing you could get out from under his sharp gaze. "It's not anything you've done. It's just - it's the way things go sometimes. It's ok, James, you just have to move on." But James's face hardens at that, a sternness you're not used to overtaking his features as he stands so that he can look you eye to eye. You have to tilt your head back to look up at him.

"That's what you want us to do? Just… move on? Forget about you? Pretend we were never friends?" The sombre tone in his voice doesn't suit him, and neither does the timid hurt in yours.

"Are we friends, James? Is that what we all are?" James blinks at that, taking a step back and sitting back down onto the bench rather abruptly. When he looks up at you this time, there's something akin to remorse swimming in his eyes.

"Is that what it is, lo-" the pet name dies on his tongue as he presses his lips together firmly. "I'm sorry. I thought - we all thought that you felt the same way about us that we do about you. We thought… we thought we were all more than friends with you and that you… I'm sorry. We never dreamt of making you uncomfortable." You scoff at his words, shaking your head fondly and toeing at the dirt by his feet with your shoe.

"Uncomfortable?" You say disbelievingly. "Please - you three are the biggest gentlemen I've ever met. I don't think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried." James's shoulders sag in relief, but the look he gives you is still that of a lost, confused puppy. You look past him to see a group of students hurrying to their next class and open your mouth to remind James that the two of you also are officially late, but he speaks before you can.

"Then what is it? Please, just… what did we do?"

"It's like I said, James… it's just a bad idea. It's wrong and I can't do this. I… we have to get to class."

But James doesn't go to class that day. He sits on that bench, staring at the place you'd been standing in, until Remus and Sirius find him that evening. And as the two of them tug him up and inside, all he can think of is how they really have lost you.

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tenseoyong · 1 year

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Aemond loves his little family.

He keeps a watchful eye over his children, making the royal guards seem redundant. Aemond often recalls the ridicule and embarrassment he’d faced as a child—and the resulting accident—and makes it a personal matter to maintain a keen eye over how the children behave towards each other, or how other children in the keep interact with his family.

Rarely does he let his half-sister and his nephews interact with his happy little family.

The Prince is unusually involved in his children’s lives for someone of his station—the responsibility typically laying with that of wet nurses and his lady-wife’s handmaidens—yet Aemond does it anyways.

He personally oversees their studies, and has taken the task upon himself of teaching his children High Valyrian—carefully correcting mispronunciations and gently calming them when their frustrations grow.

Aemond refused to be to his children what his own father was to him—neglectful and uninterested or show obvious favoritism for one over the masses—Aemond made sure all his children felt equally as loved and cherished, in their own ways of course.

His eldest son—Vaemon—was very much the warrior every royal family hoped the first born male would be. Aemond had a little wooden sword crafted and in the small boy’s hand before the child could fully walk.Aemond was often spotted training with the young lad, teaching his heir proper techniques and how to find and use one’s advantages.

A few years behind his first born, came Vaenya. Undoubtedly his scholar in the making. The young girl would rarely be found without a book in her grasp; Aemond would gift her with every newly published book he could get his hands on, though, she greatly favorite those of the world’s history—much like her father—and Aemond would enjoy quiet evenings spent by candlelight, the two of them pouring over ancient texts. Often, Aemond would teasingly correct her posture, “Slouching is unbecoming of a Princess~”

His darling Haelera, who—affectionately named after his sweet sister—had somehow managed to gather the same odd fascination with all things creepy-crawly, still felt her father’s warm love. Though, you could say she was a lover of animals in general, it was much easier to come across bugs of various types than an odd dog or cat in the Red Keep. Aemond listening intently to every little insect fact his darling daughter brought to his attention, and would often return from his Princely duties with a jar containing a random bug much to Haelera’s delight.

And Little Raenar could just barely toddle after his older brother and his father, yet Aemond was insistent on bringing the infant as he and Vaemon trained. Aemond supposed the young babe simply liked the sounds of metal—if the light on his face and the happy giggles that floated through the training yard each time Aemond blocked one of Vaemon’s attacks were anything to go by—but the babe seemed to enjoy the activity, or his brother and sire’s company either way, and Aemond was content with including him even if his little mind wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.

Aemond personally picks each and every dragon egg that would be placed in his children’s cradles. And while, thankfully all eggs did hatch, Aemond did harbor a bit of fear that one of his children would be left to suffer a fate similar to his as a dragonless Targaryen—and vowed he’d not have them ridiculed as he once was, that he’d comfort and adore them regardless.

He relishes in teaching his children to be dragon riders. To see the ease and joy on their faces after a their first ride, to see they have what should have been his—gaining a dragon-bond at birth, and not having to lose a part of themselves in order to gain something by sheer determination—Aemond delights in taking his little clan on family rides.

Aemond would not see his little family crumble and become scattered in the winds as his extended family had been in his youth. He insists upon the family being together during every meal, not that you’d ever begin to think of denying him that—the family being as tight knit as it was—Aemond enjoyed hearing about each member of his family’s daily activities and growing interests.

He would never be more grateful to anyone more than he was to his Lady-Wife for giving him something he’d never truly had before—the gift of family—darling children that loved each other as much as their father loved them.

Aemond Targaryen loves his little family.

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#hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond Targaryen imagine #aemond Targaryen scenario #hotd scenario #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #aemond Targaryen smut #hotd smut #shorts #liz.txt

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420ruffy · 1 year

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⟡ how they kiss you ,, luffy zorro sanji law ace

luffy

he’s very forceful, sudden and impatient. however still very passionate

a lot of cheek kisses

like he just loves kissing your cheek. he kisses your cheeks first before making out with you or kissing your lips. he often comes in to hug you from the side so your cheek is what’s facing him and since he wastes no time he kisses the first thing in sight. he also really likes the feeling of his lips digging into your soft plump cheeks

since he’s impulsive he often kisses you without a warning at random times. just whenever he feels like it really. which is often

sure he also knows how to time it properly and do it in fitting situations . but most of the time it’s very random bc he just gets the desire to make out with you a little

when he‘s bored he always goes to you to kill time. he‘ll start by clinging onto you and whining about how bored he is until he peppers your face with kisses before he takes your face into his hands to make out with you and feel your tongue against his. a lot of times he wants to take it even further and have sex so he‘ll drag you into his chambers after making out with you for a bit

he’s a very out of sight out of mind person so when he suddenly remembers that the two of you are together and that he has a s/o he gets excited and starts looking for you to kiss or hug you

zoro

he’s gentle slow and passionate

a lot of neck kisses

he never had a s/o and never really wanted one. his main goal is his swordsman rank. so he’s very inexperienced in the whole relationship field. you were his first everything and taught him all the things he wasn’t magically good at

he developed his own kissing style pretty quickly

he hates pda and only likes getting touchy in private

don’t expect him to have too high of a libido. he’s still very much focused on training and becoming the best

however he is really into foreplay. he likes getting all touchy and groping you when you’re in his chambers and

he’s a chronic cuddler and loves holding you captive during naps. when he’s sleepy and groggy after naps he always holds onto you and has to be touching you in some way. he doesn’t care if other ppl see in this instance. the rest of the crew has seen him slouching and holding onto your shirt with one arm while you’re leaving his chambers more than they can count

a/n : forgot this was about kissing and not hugging let me get back on track

his favorite thing to do is definitively making out. because you can decide when to stop and it doesn’t have to last too long. not as long as sex does. it’s perfect to him. it’s fun and sensual and nasty and it doesn’t take half an hour

when nobody’s looking or you’re kinda further away from the rest of the crew he’ll pull you into a kiss.

making out with him out in the open usually lasts a couple minutes

when you’re alone and he knows you’re probably not gonna get interrupted he makes out with you a lot longer

sanji

he’s passionate and forceful bc he just can’t get enough of you

a lot of forehead kisses

he loves pda. he loves showing you off and having other ppl see that you’re taken.

he often gives you little kisses throughout the day. like when he’s done making something delicious for you, after he hands you the plate he’ll kiss your forehead. or when you’re off somewhere with nami and robin and he passes by you, he comes up from behind and tilts your head back so he can kiss your forehead or lips.

also the type to kiss your hands a lot. like when you’re playing a card game with the crew for example and you’re sitting next to each other he’ll take your free hand and kiss it

or kissing your lower leg, not just during sex when you’re in your back and he’s taking off your panties but also during the day when you’re sunbathing for example. he’ll stand above you and lift your leg up to kiss it before he works his way up by kissing your stomach, chest and neck. he loves licking and kissing you when you’re sunbathing and sweating. he just loves your smell and taste

just constant displays of affection throughout the day

law

slow, gentle and shy

a lot of hand kisses

he has a thing for hands and he loves yours. loves kissing them, holding them, or having them around his dick. he prefers hand jobs over blow jobs

hates pda more than anything. don’t expect him to be all up on you when there’s ppl around or when there could be ppl around any second

he saves the clinginess for when you’re alone. then you can expect him to be all up on you. seriously when you’re in his chambers he doesn’t let go of you. clings to you like a panda. he’s just really touch and live starved and needs your attention all the time.

he loves having you sit on his lap or vice versa and switching between making out with you and hugging you

ace

fast and gentle yet forceful. it’s just the right pressure

a lot of neck kisses

loves pda more than anything. he’s very insecure about his worth so he needs other ppl to see that you’re with him. that he’s the one you love and chose to be with.

he’s often standing behind you with his head buried in your neck just pressing light butterfly kisses on your delicate skin. unless ofc he’s marking it up and bruising it. he doesn’t care if there’s another person talking to you or even him.

he loves seeing you covered in love bites in places where they’re visible to everyone. also in places where only he sees them

he’s a bit possessive..

…

#. op works #. op hc #. op fluff #one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece men #op men x reader #luffy headcanons #zoro headcanons #sanji headcanons #sanji fluff #zoro fluff #luffy fluff #law headcanons #law fluff #ace headcanons #ace fluff #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace

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earthtooz · 1 year

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cw: fluff with minimal angst, reader and tsumu had an argument, msby4 is there, food mentions, probably bad writing like i just wrote this but i can't remember what i actually wrote which is a little alarming..., unedited and not proofread :,)

<bokuto3: hi it's atsumu

<bokuto3: WHY DOES BOKKUN HAVE YOUR CONTACT AS '<y/n3'?????? OUTRAGEOUS.

<bokuto3: anyways hi it's atsumu

<bokuto3: i miss u :( pls unblock me asap i'm sorry baby please i really am

<bokuto3: please don't be mad at me i thikn i'm lodsing my mind

<bokuto3: call me back. or text me back. unbloc k my email too thanx

<bokuto3: okay bye i luv u to the moon and back

<bokuto3: i'd do anything for u baby pls jyst talk to me again and i'd even swallow hot coals if you asked pls pls pls

<bokuto3: i love you

you: give bokuto his phone back. get back to practice. bye.

<bokuto3: LOVE OF MY LIFE

<bokuto3: NO Y/N PLEASE I MISS YOU SO MUCH DON'T GO

you pocket your phone with a sigh, ignoring the way it continually buzzes with with messages and spam texts, probably just of atsumu professing his undying love for you and grovelling. pretty standard of him after an argument so intense that you had to walk out on before things escalated to places you would regret.

you can't deny that you miss him too, and it's been less than 24 hours since you saw him last.

in fact, you literally saw him this morning when sending him off to practice with a grumbled 'have a good practice' after he kissed over your forehead with a lightness rivalling a feather. a gentleness typically unseen from him.

really, the blond setter was just terrified of irritating you further.

then when you got up half an hour later, you're not pleased to see how atsumu was spamming you with messages, all conveying the messages he was scared of saying earlier. things like 'i love you', 'can't wait to go home to you', or 'did you see the photo of osamu's cat i sent'.

it's sweet, really; he is, but when you're still a little hurt from the harsh exchange you had last night, you didn't want him blowing up your phone this early in the morning.

so your only solution for a peaceful morning was to block him apparently.

something that clearly did not sit well with him because he then started spamming your socials and your emails with protests. did he not have practice to get to? where was all this time coming from?

you blocked him on those platforms too from the goodness of your heart because you had a feeling that he was skipping warmup in order to text you. if he pulled a muscle during practice, you don't want to begin imagining what a pain he'd be to look after.

glancing around the park you were currently strolling through to clear your mind, you only get a second to breathe when your phone starts buzzing again. this time, with a call notification from bokuto.

picking up, you immediately assume that it's atsumu who is bothering you after suffering the blows of how hard you've been ghosting him.

"atsumu for the love of-"

you're cut off of your own sentence when you hear somewhat muffled voices in the background.

"damn you messed up big time!" comes hinata's bubbly voice. you can indistinctly hear someone agreeing in the background- bokuto?

"stop rubbing it in!" atsumu exclaims, whining. you can picture him in your head right now, slouching against the wall as he deflates with each reminder of his mistake.

bokuto must have pocket-dialed you. you're about to hang up until you hear:

"how about you stop being miserable? your relationship with y/n will be fine as long as you apologise, this isn't the end of the world," lectures sakusa.

"for you maybe! ah already feel like y/n's slipping away from my grasp," cries your boyfriend. "and y/n is my world. so really, it does feel like the end of the world."

"you know what they say. love kills," mutters bokuto.

"literally no one has ever said that," sakusa deadpans.

"someone's probably said it."

"well if love does kill can it hurry up with atsumu?"

the dark-haired's simple statement makes you laugh, one that bursts suddenly before you have to cover your mouth from shame, hoping that it didn't disturb anyone.

"hey!" atsumu huffs before you can hear him groan dramatically again. except something's telling you that this isn't for show. "can't ya show a little sympathy to the guy who is having the worst time of his life? my partner doesn't even want to talk to me! i might as well rot right here and now."

"don't do that!" protests bokuto. "i'm sure y/n isn't as mad as you think. just talk to-"

"-what do you think i've been doing this whole time? i've been grovelling-"

"-no, you've been a bitch. i don't think telling y/n to 'text you back' counts as a proper apology."

the setter 'hmphs' and you can imagine the way he's crossing his arms. atsumu never did lose that immature side of him, but he tries, and you adore him for it. "is proclaiming my love not enough?"

"you can say 'i love you' to everyone, idiot, and you can confess your undying adoration for y/n any time. you do it on a regular basis anyways, atsumu, you don't need to double down on it just because you had an argument-"

"-but i'm scared that y/n will forget!"

the blond's outburst stuns everyone into silence. you hear a sniffle.

"what if i'm not worth the time? sometimes i get really scared that y/n might pack up and leave me because there's someone better out there. someone more patient and less of a hassle?"

it's so painfully silent, but each word that atsumu mutters is like a knife to your heart. how long has he felt this way?

hinata is the first to break the awkwardness. "c'mon man, you're literally high school sweethearts. i don't think you have anything to worry about."

"yeah, you're being silly right now, tsum-tsum!" bokuto agrees. "after all this time together, i think y/n has a reason to stay with you!"

"apart from my dashing good looks?"

"stupidity is temporary. get better soon," sakusa grumbles.

"omi-omi you're so mean!"

you hang up the call when you hear atsumu's chirpy tone again, unable to stop a smile from appearing on your own face. so long as he was happy, you were too.

that's what happens when you're soulmates, you suppose.

it's the same soulmate bond responsible for the fact that you were currently waiting outside the gym where msby practices were held, impatiently leaning against a small pole as you pass time on your phone.

then, just as you look up to check if anyone has left the building, your heart stops at the sight of a familiar faux-blond, animatedly chatting to one of his teammates. but when he meets your gaze, it takes him less than a fraction of a second to charge towards you.

instead of bracing for impact, you open your arms for him to tackle into, an offer he takes immediately.

as you both stumble backwards from the momentum, atsumu revels in your laughter and cherishes the feeling he gets knowing that everything is okay between you two. you chose to greet him after practice, you chose to go the somewhat inconvenient route all the way to his gym, you chose him and he hopes you never consider another option again.

and you won't. atsumu loves too hard and too well, warming you from the inside out to defrost any pain the coldness of life might leave you with. although he sometimes gets insecure about this overbearing trait of his, you get to show him each time just how beautiful it is; to wear your heart on your sleeve and love the world for what it is.

to love you for who you are.

"i'm sorry," he begins. "for what ah said last night, i was a real dick."

you smile. "well if you're really sorry, you'd let me take you out for some food, right?"

"only if it's your favourite."

"okay, sap. let's go then."

you think you hear atsumu whisper a 'thank you for letting me love you' before pulling him away.

#i wrote this while fighting for my life evidently #enjoy/?? i think???? idrk...#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x you #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq memes #hq drabble #atsumu fluff

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saetoru · 1 year

Note

Tee imagine being vash’s first kiss :(

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FIRST — VASH THE STAMPEDE.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ vash has never fallen in love—not before you, that is (2.1k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mutual pining, slightly jealous vash (of nicholas), confessions, fluff

☽ notes ⋮ i don’t even think this has anything to do with the ask anymore LMAO i got carried away but here <3

“nico, get your grimy fingers off my share,” you huff, shoving nicholas’s fingers away from the last few bites of your lunch.

food is scarce these days—more so than usual, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you finally find a place to grab a bite. vash eyes you as your lips are curled into a soft frown, the crinkle of your brows making his throat dry—because you’re cute, even with a look of pure irritation on your face, you’re soft and angelic and you make his heart skip a beat.

“c’mon, give me a bite or two,” nicholas chuckles, sneaking his way back to reach for your share of food, “you try carrying that big ol’ cross around all day.”

this time, you slap his hand away, huffing as you shift closer to vash to put extra distance between you and nicholas. vash has to keep himself from leaning in when he feels the warmth of your body radiate against him at the proximity.

“oh, you’re such a jackass, y’know?” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the easy chuckle nicholas gives you. but vash can see it—the beginnings of a smile you try (and fail) to fight back as you shake your head. “you’re the one who insists on carrying such a flashy weapon.”

“well it saved your pretty little head a few times didn’t it?” he shoots back. nicholas is easy to talk to like that, banter filling the air between you as you dance around each other with petty taunts and sly grins and stolen touches through pokes to the forehead.

vash thinks the only time he’s ever touched you is to pull you away from danger. in fact, he thinks it’d be easier to fight off an entire city after him than pluck the courage to reach out and flick your forehead the way nicholas does. it’s so smooth, so simple, so natural—and he can from tell the way your eyes soften for nicholas that it must be love.

he glances down at his food, feels his appetite dwindle and his chest tighten, and soon enough there’s an extra share of food pressed to your hand as he stands up.

“i’m not hungry,” he smiles softly, “you have it.”

you blink for a moment before opening your mouth to protest. “but vash—”

he’s off before you can finish talking, climbing into the van and closing the door while everyone stares after his figure and blinks. you frown, looking back at nicholas who only grins wider, holding a hand out for the half eaten dinner in your hold.

“well, don’t be greedy. share the goods,” he insists.

you roll your eyes, pulling away from his outstretched hand as you glare at him.

“something’s wrong,” you announce. meryl and roberto share a look, glancing quickly between you and nicholas again before continuing eating, making your brows furrow. “you guys know, don’t you?”

“everyone does, sweet cheeks,” nicholas chuckles, shaking his head, “you’re a bit more oblivious than i thought.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you glare, but he only eyes you with amusement, turning back to finish the last few bites of his dinner before standing up and walking off, mumbling about needing a smoke under his breath.

you stare back at the van, unsure whether or not you’re supposed to go after vash—whether or not he even wants you there. it takes you a few moments of contemplation before you ultimately stand up, earning a look from meryl and a sigh from roberto.

“i’m gonna go after him,” you announce.

it doesn’t take long to walk up to the van and climb in, finding vash sitting slouched on his side of the back seat, looking out the window. he almost looks…defeated—it’s a type of vash you don’t think you’ve ever really seen.

“vash?” you ask softly, making him tense for a moment before he glances at you, offering a poor attempt of a reassuring smile.

you don’t think vash has ever successfully hidden an emotion ever in his life. for as long as you’ve known him—though it’s not been that long—he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions bared before you whether he means to or not. you sit down beside him, staring at your lap as he stares out the window again.

“hey,” he says quietly, “why aren’t you with everyone else?”

“why aren’t you?” you counter gently.

“ah, well,” he chuckles nervously, painfully aware of how close your knees are from brushing, “just wanted to sit. and think, i guess,” he says quietly.

“about what?”

“just stuff,” he mumbles.

he doesn’t want to tell you he thinks about how he must be in love with you, doesn’t want to admit as much when you’ve clearly got someone else in your heart. vash has never fallen in love—but he thinks if he’d have to give the feeling a label, it’d be you.

he thinks it has to be love when the first pair of eyes he searches for are yours, making sure you’re okay before he even thinks about checking on anyone else. what else could it be besides love when even if for a split second, the very thought of you being in danger makes his gun leave its holster and ready to aim. if not love, he’s not sure what else it could be when he’s so nervous around you, he feels words stick to his throat like he’s choking.

vash has never fallen in love before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling now that it hits him.

you’re kind—maybe a bit more than you should be to him since he does nothing but drag you into danger. the rational part of him wishes you’d stop coming with him wherever he goes, it hopes you’ll see you have so much to live for outside of cleaning up his messes. the more desperate part of him feels nauseous at the idea of you going your separate ways—he can protect you, can’t he? the desert is a dangerous place with or without him and if you’re in danger one way or another, you should stick by his side where he can keep an eye on you.

no, vash has never been in love—but he’s sure as hell seen it happen before his own two eyes in the many, many years he’s lived.

and he knows you’re in love with nicholas with one painful glance.

“c’mon vash,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, “we’re friends, i know you better than that. something’s wrong. are you upset about what those people in that last town said to you? because i’ll march right up to them and give them hell and back if—”

friends.

he’s tuned you out, too hyper focused on that awful burning sensation pooling in his chest, the one that hits him as soon as you use that cruel word. of course vash is just your friend, why wouldn’t he be? he can’t remember the last time someone actually wanted him around at all let alone as something more.

he doesn’t even notice your hand reaching for his until it lays over his fist, gently unclamping it from the fabric of his coat. he doesn’t even notice he’s been fisting it this whole time, doesn’t even notice his shoulders are tense until you lean your head on it.

“you don’t have to tell me,” you murmur gently, “i’ll wait here with you.”

“why?” he can’t help but ask, can’t help but wonder why you care to spend your time here when you could be there. with nicholas. without him.

“because i care about you.” you say it like it’s obvious, like he should already know that.

perhaps he does—you do care about him, he can see it with the way you help clean his wounds and scold him for being reckless…just maybe not in the way he wishes you would.

“are you ever going to tell nicholas how you feel?” he asks.

you sit up, shock on your face and a crease in your brows as you stare at him in bewilderment. he almost thinks he’s asked something out of line, something he should apologize for. but before he can offer you a stuttered apology, you beat him to it.

“what?” you chuckle. “do i look like i feel something for nicholas?”

“you don’t?” he sounds shocked, making you blink.

“no,” you shake your head, grimacing like the idea is an unpleasant one. “he’s a nuisance i tolerate at best.”

“oh,” is all he says, surprised. it’s silent for a moment before he hesitantly asks, “is…is there someone?”

he doesn’t want to know the answer either way. yes means the pain of knowing there’s someone else he has to let you go to. no means it’s not him even with no one else to compete with at all. but he figures whether your answer is yes or no, it’s enough to force him to let go.

“well…” you hesitate for a moment, inhaling before letting out a shaky breath and slumping back to his shoulder, “can i be honest?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

“i don’t know how you’ll take it,” you admit quietly, and he can hear the slight shakiness in your voice—like you’re nervous, like what you’re about to say will change everything.

but vash knows no matter what you’ll say, no matter what you’ll ever do, he’ll still keep loving you even if you don’t need him to.

“is it embarrassing?”

“no,” you shake your head, “well, maybe a little. depends on how you react. i might look stupid.”

“can’t be worse than running out of bullets,” he smiles softly, “i bet i looked pretty stupid then.”

“a little,” you admit, giggling. and then you both laugh softly, your cheek against his shoulder and your hand gently clasped over his. distantly, you can hear nicholas ask where you are—and you know it’s not long before you’ll lose this rare moment alone. so you take a deep breath, stare at your hand over his as you mumble, “i think i love you. a little. actually, that’s a lie—a lot. like, a whole lot.”

he blinks.

he feels his breath hitch and your shoulders tense and his heart race all at once. for a second he thinks he might’ve heard you wrong—but then you whisper how you understand if he doesn’t feel the same way, how it’s okay, really! you understand, it’s not his fault and you can still be friends because you’re fine with friends. just as long as he’s still in your life because he’s important to you and friends is better than nothing at all.

and then he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, making you pause and glance up at him with doubt on your face.

“can i be honest too?” he smiles gently, melting your heart even as it shatters just a little in your chest.

“of course,” you whisper.

“i love you too. not a little though. a lot. i thought you had a thing for nicholas, though—”

“nico is rude and smells like smoke. i wouldn’t kiss him if my life depended on it,” you interrupt with a crinkle of your nose, making him chuckle with bright eyes and love scribbled over the curves of his features.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes when your hand cups a cheek gently.

“good,” he murmurs, “but don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe. your life will never depend on kissing him.”

“good,” you hum, “because i only want to kiss you.”

and then you do, slow and sweet and so in love. it’s his first kiss—he doesn’t really know what to do, but he follows your lead and learns fast, soft lips molding with yours and mingling your warm breath with his. vash doesn’t even care he’s gone this long without feeling something as gentle as being in love. he’s in love now, with you—and he’s glad you love him too and not nicholas wolfwood, the man who keeps trying to steal dinner from under your nose.

“are you two done in there already?” nicholas is pounding on the door, making you pull away with a sour look on your face. “we got places to be. better not be baby making where i’m about to sleep.”

“can’t you make one exception and kill him?” you whine, making vash chuckle before he leans to kiss you again, more chaste this time. and again, and again.

vash has never fallen in love—and he’s sure it’s because he was meant to wait this long to fall in love with you.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#vash x reader #vash x you #vash fluff #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede fluff #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede x you #trigun stampede fluff

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heich0e · 3 months

Text

you don’t like the snow.

it’s cold and wet. it makes your commute to work even harder to pull yourself out of bed in the morning to face. you have yet to find a pair of boots that accommodates both practicality and anything that can even tangentially be considered style. it never stays the picturesque white blanket that it feigns when it first falls, soon turning grey and grimy as the salt and dirt in the street tarnishes its original glory. it’s an inconvenience. an eyesore.

but you can’t deny that there’s something inarguably beautiful about midnight in a snowstorm.

nagano is sleeping, its streets left empty and the perfect canvas for the pristine coat of white that clings to it undisturbed. the streetlights diffuse their shine though the flakes as they fall, like the whole world outside your window is lit up in a soft orange glow. it’s still, and silent like a held breath.

rintarou is perched at the edge of the mattress, slouching in the way he always does and staring out your bedroom window as the snow falls, rapt by the scene as the flakes flutter past the pane. the glow of the midnight light is generous to his already pretty face, gentle on his features. you watch his profile as intently as his eyes follow the snowfall.

he wears nothing but his underwear, his skin bare and equally favoured by the soft light that slips in through your open window. in his palm, his fingers work to peel an orange—strangely small in his big hands. the bright, fresh smell of citrus permeates the room in much the same way as the orange glow of the sky outside. it’s fitting, you think. the scent mixes with another smell—more his, more your own, more familiar. you think you’d bottle it if you could.

your body feels sore where you lay wrapped in the soft cotton of your bedsheets, but it’s familiar ache you welcome. your eyelids feel heavy. your chest feels tight.

rintarou’s finished peeling his orange.

you can’t imagine eating at a time like this, but it’s not the hour that’s spoiled your appetite.

something is clawing in the pit of your stomach, begging to be freed. seeking the light. it scares you, and yet it doesn’t. it’s a beast you’ve grown to know well over the past few months. a creature you’ve befriended in your own way.

you watch as rintarou pops a segment of orange between his parted lips, watch the way his jaw flexes as he chews, watch the bob of his kiss-marked throat as he swallows. his eyes haven’t left the window. yours are still on him.

“i love you.”

you’re half-asleep and half-petrified as you say it. as you finally free the thing that’s been raging inside of you but you tried so hard for so long to keep shackled and tamed.

it hasn’t been fair to him. you know that. rintarou’s told you he loves you countless times. his lips have shaped the words so much you hear them when you sleep. he’s never expected anything back from you, never pressed you for anything he knew you weren’t ready to give him of your own volition.

you can’t bring yourself to let out the breath you’re keeping trapped inside your lungs as you sit in the wake of your overdue admission. he tears another segment of orange from the little fruit in his hand and pops it into his mouth. then he turns to you, the piece of fruit tucked into his cheek as he smiles. it’s your favourite smile of his. the one that shows all his teeth and crinkles the corner of his eyes.

“i already knew that,” he says, though the words are a bit distorted thanks to the fruit held in his mouth.

he means it, and so did you.

he offers you a piece of his orange, and you part your lips to accept it.

you don’t like the snow, but you like him.

(but you already knew that.)

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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luveline · 8 months

Note

Hiiiiii!!! Since it’s back to school season you should write a blurb where Steve and Reader get emotional sending Avery to school for the first time in your KBD universe!!

thank you for your request ♡ kisses before dinner —you and steve have a tumultuous morning on avery's first day of school. mom!reader, 3k

"Oh, fuck," Steve mumbles into his pillow, cheek wet with drool. "Shit." He drags his face up to look at the alarm clock for the third time that morning, having slept on and off for hours. He can't believe he's awake again.

"I think you have to admit defeat," you say softly from the vanity. Steve turns, finds you sitting slouched with a brush in your hands, applying powder to your cheek carefully. "I couldn't sleep either."

Steve groans at his ever present back ache and sits up. The comforter falls down into his lap, his naked chest exposed. He scratches at his collarbone mindlessly. "You think it'll be really hard?" he asks, knowing you'll know what he's saying. You always do.

You put down the brush, turning a very sympathetic smile his way. "I think it will be awful. But you'll be okay, Steve. She needs to go. And she's excited!" You nod toward Avery's room. "Can't you hear her?"

Steve gets up without checking for himself. He slinks out of your bedroom and onto the landing, where Avery's door is ajar.

"Hey," he says, opening the door with his foot. "You okay?"

Ash blonde hair like a riot around her face and pyjamas in disarray, Avery sees Steve in the doorway and beams, doing a wiggly half dance by her dresser. "Daddy! It's my first day at school!"

"I know," he croons, or attempts to, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "I'm just gonna shower, and then we'll start getting ready. You hungry?"

"Are you still gonna do my hair like mommy's?" she asks.

"Yeah, just like mom's."

Steve's reassured by her smile even if he's feeling about as anxious as the day he found out you were pregnant the first time (ecstatic, terrified, in love and bricking it). He showers in three minutes, an expert in the art of wicked fast washing and in anticipation of Dove's imminent waking. Sure enough, he's crossing the landing back to the master bedroom with a towel around his waist when a cry sounds from behind him.

You appear in the doorway dressed for work and somehow prettier than you were yesterday. It doesn't fade no matter what people say, Steve still has a huge crush on you, and it feels like a gift to have you stroke a line down his tacky arm as you pass.

"I have it, handsome." You take a step back and he pauses on instinct. Your hand cups his face. "It won't be as bad as you're thinking. I promise." You stroke his cheek. "Yeah?"

"I'm fine," he lies.

Dove cries louder. You take your hand back. "Okay. Get dressed. I'll make breakfast."

Steve does as he's told. Bethie tries to barge into the bedroom while he's changing, and he laughs at her dejected sigh. "It's not opening," she says, nearly three and a half and sounding it, her voice still cutely disjointed.

"I'm just getting dressed, Beth. Mommy's making breakfast, you want waffles or something?"

"I can't get down the stairs," she mumbles. Steve almost misses it.

He throws a shirt on and yanks a comb through his hair. Bethie's standing expectantly by the door when he opens it, your image completely. Steve's seen the rare baby photo of you and he's surprised every time; you could switch it out with a photo of Bethie and he's sure he wouldn't notice, though her nose might look a little different.

"Hey, pretty girl. Trapped?"

"They'd left me up here with you," she says.

Talkative this morning, he thinks. "I can see that. Excuse me then, babe, and we'll get this gate open."

Steve hates the baby gates. He doesn't think they're necessary, but he knows he'd think that until the day one of his poor girls took a dive. You hate them too for being so finicky. Maybe in a couple of months when Dove's walking you'll take them down.

He opens the gate and takes a few steps, holding a hand out for Bethie. Fingers wrapped around hers, they descend the stairs and approached the second dreaded baby gate where Avery's waiting. She pinches the lock and pulls up the handle for them surprisingly easily.

"Thank you," he says to her, stepping over the lip of it and assisting Beth down those last few steps. She wobbles.

"Dad, when can we get ready?" Avery asks.

Steve checks his watch. "Uh, soon as you finish breakfast."

"I finished already."

"No you didn't!" you call. "Come on! Come and eat this egg before it goes cold."

"I wanted a waffle," Avery says.

"Don't tell me, tell your mom. I'm sure she'll make you something else."

Avery spirits away. Steve watches her go and decides maybe he can't do this after all, sweeping Bethie into his arms to hug close to his chest. "Don't grow up, Beth. Promise?"

She looks at him lovingly. "Promise." She offers her tiny pinky.

You're not so stressed in the kitchen. Or, Steve may not think so. Inside you're a ball of agony. You're acting as normal as you can, knowing Steve will take the change harder; he's spent almost every hour of every day with Avery for nearly six years, to suddenly have her gone will feel wrong, and strange, and achy.

He'll understand how you feel going to work every day. Missing your family becomes a second feeling that trails behind you, not always sad, but there nonetheless. You'll be sitting at your desk wishing a little back was pressed to your chest, or that there were a hand in your hair. Or, when things are especially boring, you long for a whiny shout, "Mommy!" said over and over.

It isn't his fault, of course, and it's not even the thing that's hurting. Just. Avery's getting older no matter how much you wish she'd stay the same, for a day, an hour. If you could just stop time and hold her for a bit, you'd feel better.

Time doesn't stop. You make her a waffle and eat her cold egg, Dove spits up on your blazer and you have to get changed. Steve struggles to get Avery ready in her bedroom while Bethie crowds his legs, and you can't help. Your second blazer has a peach juice stain and the third has been personalised with a blue marker. You can't find anything to wear.

You scrub the spit up off of the shoulder in the bathroom and trudge to Avery's room to ask Steve if he can tell.

Avery's standing in front of her mirror, and she looks perfect.

And she looks so old.

Surprise spreads like a bruise, like you've been winded, a flat palm pressing with force against the gentle structure of your diaphragm. You grip the blazer in your hands until the fabric squeaks, eyes on Avery's hair, her shoulders, her new dress and shoes. She spins on her heels when she sees you in the mirror and poses proudly.

"Doesn't it look nice, mommy?" she asks.

You frown at her. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes turning warm, your whole face. "You look really nice, sweetheart," you say, blinking to dispel the moisture in your eyes before it can turn to tears."Daddy did a good job."

"Are you okay?" Avery asks.

You try to turn your frown to a smile, the expression one Avery isn't used to seeing. Panicked, she looks to Steve, who's already looking at you tenderly.

"I'm sorry," you say. It aches in your cheeks. Being a parent means hiding how you feel when it's bad, but you're grasping at the air for a reassurance that isn't there. She's never going to stop getting older. And this is a beautiful thing in reality.

Right now, it's terrifying.

"You look lovely," you say, swiping at tears as they tip. "I'm really sorry, Avery, I'm okay. You look so beautiful, honey."

Steve crouches down by Avery's side, hands on her waist. "This is going to sound silly, because you're so excited about going to school, but me and your mommy are just a little sad."

"You're sad because I'm going to school?" Avery asks.

You nod, shame-faced, "A bit."

"Well, I won't go," she says in confusion.

You close the distance between you and hold her chin in your hand. "You have to go! I want you to go, I promise. I want you to meet new friends, and learn new things. I can't wait for you to see the whole world."

"Then why are you crying?" she asks.

You push your thumb into the corner of her mouth and make her smile. "You'll understand when you're older," you say.

She groans. "Mom, I want to know now."

"I can't explain it." You kiss her soft forehead. "Sorry." You kiss her forehead again. "Sorry. You really look beautiful, and I know you're going to have a good day. They won't know what to do with you."

You arranged to start work late so you can see her off for her first day and help if drop off becomes too much for Steve to do alone. Now that Avery's old enough for school, she'll need to be dropped off and picked up everyday, and your working hours don't allow for you to do it. This means Steve will have to get all three girls ready every day. They can't wait in the car by themselves. It's a lot more than he's used to doing, which isn't to say he doesn't keep his girls clean and clothed in fresh jammies. He takes them grocery shopping and to the movies and Aunt Robin's house by himself all the time, it's not a difficult task (most of the time) but it takes work. It's going to be a lot for him.

He can do it, obviously. You just wish you could be more helpful. You tried to talk your boss into an earlier start time so you could finish in time to grab Avery and save him the trip, but it meant you'd start work at 6AM. Nobody would be there to let you in, and it was deemed 'unfeasible'.

You worry about it on the ride there. Three girls in car seats, you in the front, they're hard to handle. Avery's far away in the very back, the third row, while Dove whines in the second, Bethie behind you asking if she can come and sit in your lap.

"Sorry, lovely. Two minutes, okay? Two minutes and we'll be there."

Steve shouts over your placating, "How are you feeling, Avey-Bear?"

"I feel good, dad!"

"It's the left entrance, right?" Steve asks you.

"Yeah, with the big crayon mural. Dove, I know! I can see it! Is it too tight? Let mommy have a look."

You lean through the seats. Steve takes a hand from the wheel to hold your side up and stop you from collapsing forward as you fiddle with Dove's seat straps. This chaos cannot be a good sign, you think.

You pull into the lot. Kids are everywhere, hundreds of them flooding toward the elementary school like ants carving paths through grass and sidewalk. The air smells like pine trees as you step out of the car.

While grizzly, you're pleased to find that your girls look good. Smart, well-loved. You grab Bethie, her seat behind yours, and Steve takes Dove. Avery unclasps her own car seat and climbs over the second row to slide out by your legs.

"Nice job, babe," you say, holding up your hand. Avery high fives you.

Soon as Steve's ready, you take Avery's hand with Bethie perched as a heavy weight on your hip. She's too big to need carrying and you'll have to put her down sooner rather than later, but for now you hold her, mind racing as she asks, "Mommy, do I go with Avery?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm sorry. Avery's going by herself."

And what the fuck? you think, looking down at Avery where she squeezes your hand, the skirt of her dress swishing side to side as she skips. How can she be doing this by herself? She doesn't seem old enough. How can anybody expect her to do this?

Bethie rests her cheek on your shoulder. "That's OK. I want to be with you."

She's not going to be pleased in another half an hour, then, but that's a future problem.

Steve trudges behind you like a man walking to his death. You're not exaggerating when you think to yourself about how pale he's gone, his cheeks devoid of any colour.

You follow the path past the school gates and into its playground. Most kids stay waiting with their parents while younger ones crowd the jungle gym, though there are some you recognise from playgroups and the local playground. You've accidentally cut it a bit close, not expecting the girls to be as hard to get into the car as they'd been, and the bell rings to call everyone inside only thirty seconds later.

Children call goodbye to their parents. Avery had an orientation day a little while ago and knows where she has to go, but for the first time that morning, she hesitates.

"You okay?" Steve asks her.

She looks between you both and her sisters with a funny kind of smile. Altogether too grown up. "Will it be okay?" she asks.

"What, school?" he asks. "School is going to be awesome. You are going to have so much fun."

She licks her lips, thinking. You step forward ro fuss with her hair, every bit of it perfect. She looks up into your face and you plaster a smile over your worries. The longer you look at her, the more authentic it becomes.

"You make things amazing everywhere you go. School won't be any different," you promise.

"Quick, kiss before you go to the classroom," Steve says.

You get yours first. Avery goes on tiptoes to kiss you, then Bethie, who laughs. Steve crouches down to get his, stealing a too-long hug with her as Dove wriggles under his arm.

"Love you." Steve pats her shoulder. "See you in a couple of hours. We'll go get a treat for you being this brave."

Avery holds her lunchbox to her stomach and nods excitedly. "Okie dokie. I love you." She waves at Dove. "Bye-bye, Dove."

Dove looks at Avery like she's an alien. Her confusion lasts, lips puckering into a pout as Avery races toward the school door and disappears from view.

"Ready to go?" you ask Steve gently.

"I think I'll just… we'll just wait for a bit, in case she forgot something."

You fight another wave of heat as it gathers behind your eyes. Steve looks so sad that it's making you sad too. "Sure, honey. Let's wait a bit."

You aren't expecting Avery to have actually forgotten something, but she rockets from the door looking terrified. Steve seems surprised that she really needed something too, though he doesn't waver.

"We're still here," he calls as she runs up to you.

"Dad," she says, breathless, putting her hand on his knee, "what do I say?"

"To who?"

"To the other girls!"

Steve rubs her cheek with a forefinger fondly. "Hello is a good start. You could say… Hi, I'm Avery Harrington. I have two little sisters, a pet fish, and my favourite colour is lilac."

She nods like she thinks this is a great idea. "I'm Avery, and I have two sisters and my fish and my favourite colour is lilac," she repeats verbatim. "What about you and mom?"

Steve blinks, pleased. "Uh."

You grin, saying, "What about, my mom and dad are best friends?"

Avery nods again, little chin dipping severely. "My mom and dad are best friends. Okay. Okay, thank you, I'm going back now."

Steve steals another kiss before she can run off. "Have a good day, honey."

"I will!" she shouts, spinning on her heel. You listen to her leave, her lunchbox making a metallic clicking sound, her shoes squeaking on paving stones.

She's gone a full minute before either of you attempt to leave, a strange silence between you. Eventually Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you make your way back to the car.

"You okay?" you ask him.

He's pink around the eyes, but he says, "I'm okay. She looked really excited, right?"

You kiss his cheek. "It'll be alright."

"I know. Just feel really fucking weird."

Bethie claps a hand over her mouth with a little pop. Steve imitates her, eyes glowing with bemusement. "Who said that?" he asks.

She giggles in that syrupy way kids do when they know they're doing something naughty. "That's a bad word."

"I'm allowed one bad word today, Bethie. They said so."

"Who?" Bethie asks.

Steve shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. You expect me to know everything, little miss, how'm I supposed to know everything?"

Bethie wraps an arm behind your neck.

"What's he doing to you?" you ask, arms on fire from carrying her this long and with no intent to put her down. "Daddy's not being very nice, is he? Asking my little girl all these big questions."

Your soft crooning has her like jelly in your arms. Steve relaxes in turn looking at her, his hands petting at Dove's back. "They're ganging up on me," he says to her, in a similar sweet tone, searching Dove's face for some affection. "You're not going to pick their side, are you?"

Dove pouts for a kiss.

Steve is ecstatic, Dove never so generous. He kisses her gently, and rubs his forehead against hers to tickle her with his hair.

"Mommy's gotta go to work," you remind him.

"Do you?" he asks, not looking up from Dove's affection.

"Unfortunately."

"They're taking my girls from me one by one. I thought missing you every day was bad enough, now I don't get my Avery… I hate everything."

"I know. It doesn't feel this awful all the time, I promise."

He makes a grateful sound. "I'll take your word for it. Thanks, honey."

You squeeze his bicep. "You're welcome."

521 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

Slumber Party - Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson | part I | part II | part III | part IV

WC: 4.2K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Following Steve's hairbrained scheme, he and Eddie get you to crash at the Harrington House for a slumber party, changing your relationship forever

Contents/Warnings: reader wears steve's shirt and eddie's jacket, confessions, requited love, fluff, cheeky eddie and steve, lots of teasing

A/N: if you're under 18, this is the last part of this series! if you're over 18, there will be one more, pretty much completely smut, that takes place just after this :) you can expect that sometime soon!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

The trash bag in your hand rustles as you shake air into it. There’s a surprising amount of garbage to clean up after a friends-only pool party, but you suspect some has been there for longer than just tonight.

Like the crushed, stained red solo cup that peeks out from underneath one corner of Steve’s couch.

It crunches under your fingers and you realize it’s sticky, your face scrunching into a grimace, “Steve, when’s the last time you cleaned in here?”

He looks over from where he’s scraping half-dried pizza cheese off of a couch cushion, “Jesus, I think that’s from freshman year.”

“Not even my place is that bad,” Eddie brags, though it hardly works as one.

“I found a chocolate bar cemented into the floor under your bed,” Steve stands tall, an eyebrow raised accusingly at Eddie, “We both have our problems.”

You snicker at their lighthearted banter, “Gross, guys.”

Then they’re whirling on you, and you wish you’d kept your mouth shut.

“Oh,” Eddie gushes, a hand over his heart in a dramatic display, “You never leave empty milkshake cups in my van. You’re soooo clean!”

“Dude,” Steve lets out an incredulous laugh, punching Eddie theatrically in the shoulder, “She leaves ‘em in my car too! I swear there’s like twelve in the backseat, and she doesn’t even sit there.”

“Guys!” You flush, shoulders slouching as they tease you, “You’re both so mean.”

You don’t expect either of the things that happen next. You don’t expect them to share a glance, meaningful in the slight nod that they offer to each other and the raise of their eyebrows. And you definitely don’t expect them to start forward, rushing around you for a tight group hug.

“We’re sorry, honey.” Steve croons, his slightly toned arms winding tight around your waist from behind, his voice soft and sympathetic, “We’re just teasing.”

Eddie’s ringed fingers come to rest on your cheeks, tugging your face inches from his own as he kisses the soft skin of your forehead.

“You can leave allll the trash y’want in the van as long as you keep gettin’ in it, baby.” Eddie promises, his voice a hair raspy

Your head is spinning. Your knees threaten to give out, and you swear that Steve’s hands pull your hips back dangerously close to his clothed cock on purpose. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted all at once, which means that you can’t process any of it at all.

Eddie’s lips linger against your forehead, which means that your view is his neck. There’s a smear of what you think is food coloring from the cookies that you made earlier, staining a spot just below his Adam’s apple. What you don’t see with this view is the glance that Steve and Eddie shoot each other over your head, sly smirks on the both of their faces as you grew more and more flushed under their touch.

“Our little baby,” Eddie glances down, cooing sweetly at you, as his lips hover inches away from your own, “Can’t tease you at all, huh?”

“‘Gets you all uptight…” Steve adds, his voice husky over your shoulder while his hands squeeze at your hips, “You’ve gotta learn to loosen up, honey.”

That does it.

Your knees go weak, and you pull away from them. You slip out from their grasps, the chill that ran up your spine the moment they embraced you now spreading throughout your whole being as your skin hit the air.

“I- I’m gonna go take out the trash,” You hold up the barely-filled trash bag in your hand, brandishing it at them as a half-assed explanation, “Bye!”

How are you supposed to go back in there? Steve had practically dry humped you, Eddie was inches away from kissing you. They’d called you their baby, told you to loosen up. It felt like the beginning of a porno, and yet frustration strikes you as you remind yourself it meant nothing at all.

Steve is the natural boyfriend type. He’s all lovesick smiles, acts of service, and gentle touches. Eddie is outgoing, chock-full of affection that he expresses in less-than-conventional ways. You’re no stranger to cheek kisses from the pair, to late nights in their beds with their shirts on your back, to hands-on-thighs that drift higher than they should.

But god, how much more of this are you able to take? How many more nights can you spend in their beds, tucked into their chests like a real couple? How many more times can Steve’s fingers brush your inner thigh, or Eddie’s hand drift down south during a hug before it’s too much? Before you actually start believing it, before it’s more than just a friendship to you?

Not much more, that’s for sure. Your heart pounds in your chest as you recall their hands on you, and you make your decision. You need to leave, now, before you give yourself away.

“Mission accomplished.” Steve’s grin grows lazily over his face, his hands hanging off of his hips, “She almost fell over.”

“I would’a felt bad,” Eddie admits, remembering the heat radiating off of your cheeks as he cupped them, “I just can’t believe she tricked us for so long.”

“I.. I guess it was hard for her, or something.” Steve’s voice loses some of its cocky luster, “She really fought hard to keep it a secret.”

“Yeah,” Is all that Eddie can murmur as you slip back through the sliding door. The two boys turn to you expectantly, confident grins on their faces that they try to mask as casual.

“Soooo,” Eddie draws out the word, “Harrington and I were thinking it would be kinda fun to have a movie night. You in, sweetheart?”

Steve doesn’t bother letting you answer before he lays it on thicker, “No one made that popcorn we bought for today, so we can have it now, and I’ve still got tapes from the last sleepover we had.”

They wait expectantly, self-assuredness practically oozing from them. But you gnaw the inside of your cheek while they talk, shrinking in on yourself slightly when the offer is proposed.

“Actually, no. Not tonight, guys, I..” You pause, mouth open but devoid of words. You rub a tired hand down your face, “I’m sorry. Just.. not tonight.”

Their faces drop.

For a harrowing moment, they believe they have it wrong. That your blushing was out of embarrassment, not out of longing. That your tensing was because of discomfort and not anticipation. That maybe, just maybe, you don’t like them at all.

“Why not?” Steve gets himself together first, his voice now cautious and soft.

“I don’t feel like it.” You mumble, but both know you’re lying.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?” Eddie feels strange not using a pet name, but with the guarded look in your eyes, he’s not sure it’s a good idea to go with baby.

“I’m tired from swimming,” You weakly attempt to fool them, but you realize now that the closeness you’re trying to evade is the reason you can’t. They know you inside and out, and you can’t lie to them.

“Me too,” Eddie snickers, “We’ll just crash here tonight.”

“It’ll be a sleepover,” Steve adds, one eyebrow raised hopefully at you, “You sleep here all the time, honey. C’mon, please?”

You need to say no. You need to politely decline, excuse yourself, go home, and face-plant into your pillow. You need to scream, you need to kick your feet, you need to giggle, you need to squeal, you need to call your friends while laying on your stomach on the bed. You need to twirl the cord of the phone around your finger while your legs bounce back and forth in the air behind you. You need to freak out.

“We can watch Grease,” Steve presents his final offer, the one he knows you won’t be able to say no to, holding the vhs up tantalizingly before you.

You take a moment of silence for the willpower you’ve just lost, mourning the end of your sanity and the victory of your delusions, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

The grins on their faces lit up the dark little spot in your brain. The one that told you you aren’t good enough for either of them, let alone both like you fantasize about.

Eddie shoots towards you like a rocket, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tackles you back onto the couch. It rips an incredulous laugh from your throat, one that warms Eddie’s chest and prompts him to kiss your forehead.

“Knew you’d come around, pretty girl,” He coos at you, pinning you to the sofa cushions. His words reignite that flutter in your belly, as does the chill of his jewelry on your bare skin.

“Jesus Eddie,” Steve gripes, his face popping into your view as Eddie hovers over you, “Don’t crush her before the movie even starts.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, an expression that leaves you giggling, and pushes himself up off of you.

“What I’m hearing, Harrington, is that I can crush her after the movie starts.” It seems like both a threat and a promise, and Steve scoffs at Eddie’s cheeky grin.

“Y/N,” Steve peers around Eddie who’s still crowding you against the couch, “You need a change of clothes?”

You glance down at your coverup, the sheer fabric revealing your still-damp bathing suit beneath.

“Yes please,” You really don’t know if you can handle one of Steve’s hoodies that you normally take, nor do you think you’ll be able to slip into a pair of his boxers without losing your mind. Apparently Steve doesn’t have that in mind, though, because he reaches for the hem of his own shirt, yanking it off of his head without a second thought.

His chest is exposed, bare and smattered with hair. The air escapes your lungs and you suck more in, your strangled gasp catching both boys’ attention.

“You okay?” Steve holds the shirt out to you, his chest bared, “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

You are about to collapse. You swear that the shirt hanging limply from Steve’s hand has some sort of forcefield around it; an aura. It makes your knees buckle and Steve has to throw it over your shoulder for it to be in your possession.

You see Eddie opening his mouth, no doubt about to put the pieces together of your little crush, one of them at least, so you scurry off, the shirt nearly falling from your shoulder as you do.

“I’m gonna go change!” It comes out squeaky, higher-pitched than you want it too, but you’re too overwhelmed to care. You rush to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you so hard it nearly breaks the hinges.

“Shit,” Eddie snickers incredulously as the bathroom door shuts behind you, “Good thinking, man. Y’had her frozen.”

“I didn’t think she’d take it,” Steve admits sheepishly, cupping the back of his neck and letting his clean-cut fingernails dig into the skin there, “‘Thought maybe it was going too far.”

“This is going too far,” Eddie urges, plopping down onto the couch with an unceremonious thump, “That’s the point. She’s not gonna do shit on her own, so we gotta-”

“Do you have any pants I could borrow?”

Both men turn to the bathroom with wide eyes, catching your head stuck out of the doorway. The rest of your body is shielded by the door, and each man mourns their own loss of the visual.

“Uh, no clean pairs.” Steve bluffs, scratching his nails over his chest, itching at nothing in particular to draw your eyes to the action, “Sorry, haven’t done laundry in forever.”

“It’s fine.” You come out of the bathroom now, offering him a sweet smile so that he knows you’re not mad at him, “‘S just a little short, that’s all.”

You’re right. When you step out of the bathroom, the shirt shifts over your legs with every step you take. It rides up your thighs, exposing bare skin that neither Steve nor Eddie ever dreamed they’d see of you. Eddie’s the one who pulls out of his trance first, hovering a hand over his waist.

“If you really want me to, I can pull a Harrington and slip outta my boxers. That’s what you normally wear at mine.” He grins cheekily at you, his thumb hooked into the hem of his pants, “Sound good?”

“No!” You shriek indignantly, giggling at the image, “Then you’d be pantsless!”

“And would that really be terrible?” He groans, tipping his head back against the sofa cushions and displaying his throat. The skin stretches thin over his adam’s apple and your eyes trace the bulge in his throat as it bobs, “I think we’d all enjoy that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve grumbles, chucking the VHS case for Grease at him, “If your dick ever touches my couch you’re buying me a new one.”

“Oh please,” Eddie starts, fiery and revved up, “Like you wouldn’t be-”

“Guys!” You throw up your hands, looking between the two of them with mock annoyance, “Shut up, the movie’s gonna play!”

And it does. Grainy footage springs to life over the VCR, displaying the opening sequence of Grease that you eagerly paid attention to. You tugged Steve down beside you, sinking into the cushions near Eddie. The latter wriggled closer to you, matching Steve’s distance, which was to say there was no distance between any of you anymore.

Eddie’s thigh presses flat against your bare one, the joggers that he’d used after getting out of the pool baggy and loose against his leg. Steve’s got jeans on, the rough denim flush to your other thigh, as the two sneak their arms around your shoulders.

“Smooth,” You tease them, and Steve even throws you a fake yawn, the classic first date move. You can’t deny the butterflies that stampede through your stomach at the playful flirting, and you wriggle into your seat, getting comfy between them.

One of your hands rests on Steve’s upper thigh, your fingers curled into the loose denim as you watch. Eddie’s head rests on your shoulder, his hair tickling your face as he makes cracks here and there about the film. Both are fun to watch movies with. Eddie jokes the whole time, picking apart terrible production choices and whistling whenever someone looks good on screen. But Steve watches, laughing when he should and biting back a smile when he shouldn’t.

You can’t help but feel, sandwiched between your two best friends, unfortunate crushes brewing for both of them, that this is only the beginning, your beginning. It’s a concept that tugs at your heartstrings, that ignites hope in your chest, because maybe if they’re holding you like this, maybe if they’re loving you like this, they could do it like you want them to. They could hold you more, differently. They could love you more, differently. Everything you have is perfect, and somehow you’re still wanting more, something different.

You aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to get enough of either of the boys beside you. Steve, all soft smiles and sarcastic insults, and Eddie, lively and playful. Each one brings something new to your life, something invigorating that seeps into your brain and gets you hooked like an addict. You’re absolutely certain that your life would never be the same without them, which is what makes you so hesitant to confess.

But here, snuggled up to the both of them with Grease playing on the Harrington’s television in the low light of the living room, you feel safe. You don’t need to confess, you don’t need to pull away to keep yourself safe, you don't need to do anything at all. All you can do is enjoy this, enjoy them.

You hope they feel the same way. You’re always quick to doubt yourself, write off flirty banter as a joke, or assume they’re like that with everyone. But they’re not, you're special and you know it. It’s a fantastic feeling, being special, even more fantastic when you’re special to those that you find special. You decide you quite like the feeling, burrowing back into their embraces to soak in it some more.

“‘Gonna lose you in the couch if you keep that up,” Eddie quips, “Must be pretty cozy.”

“I am,” You admit without hesitation. Perhaps its the exhaustion from swimming, or the haziness seeping into your brain from their warm embraces, but you don’t feel much like hiding anymore, “‘Love you guys.”

Eddie freezes against your shoulder, and Steve tenses. All at once it comes crashing down, their miniscule reactions clearing away your giddiness and confidence in a split second.

You stay silent, your eyes locked onto the screen, your cheeks burning. It’s not the first time you’ve said it to either of them, but it’s the first time you’ve said it now, wrapped up intimately in their embraces. It’s different, and everyone knows it.

“Yeah?” Steve prompts you, “We love you too, honey.”

“Lots.” Eddie adds, shifting his face so that it’s buried in your neck instead of facing the television, “Probably a little too much.”

He punctuates his sentence with a smattering of soft kisses to the soft skin of your neck, ones that run a shiver up your spine.

“Eddie,” You breathe, and he stops hesitantly.

“You want me to stop?”

Everything in you screams no, but you say yes.

You shift away from him, consequently into Steve, and turn to face him. He looks timid, anxiety brewing in his pretty brown eyes.

“What are we?”

It’s a vague question, but it’s thick with meaning. Steve contemplates how to answer, not sure if he wants to lead in with a joke (‘teenagers’), or blurt out his feelings, (‘soulmates’). Eddie does it for him.

“You want us to be together,” Eddie’s voice is soft and meek, nearly scared, “Right?”

“Together…?”

“Together,” Steve finally finds his voice, strong and low in his chest, “Like, for real, Y/N. We know.”

They know. They know. They know.

It runs rampant in your head, a mantra of your humiliation as you sit frozen between them. You’d rather be literally anywhere else, the upside down for fuck’s sake.

“We want it too.” Eddie promises, tentatively reaching out a hand to rest it in your lap, “Shit, I- I thought I was gonna decapitate this Chili guy for getting too close to you.”

“Pineapple was on my shit list.” Steve admits, “Can’t believe it was Munson.”

“Oh, likewise.” Eddie cranes his neck to peer around your head at Steve, “I mean, red hot? I guess in those stupid little scoops shorts…”

“Eddie,” Steve glares sharply at the boy, reaching around the back of your head to smack Eddie upside his, “Focus.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Eddie grins at you, mirth in his eyes, “But that’s.. That’s what you want, right sweetheart?”

You look at them. You look at Eddie, doe eyes wide and hopeful, hands braced eagerly on your thigh. You look at Steve, uncertainty clouding his gaze, his arm tightening its grip on your shoulders. You look at them, lucky in love, and nod.

“I do, I- I really really want this.”

The admission clears a weight off of your shoulders that’s been there for years, leaving you lighter than air. Your smile grows effortlessly, a soft giggle escaping your mouth as they both surge forwards.

They knock heads, their expressions scrunching from grins to grimaces, and you take each of them by the jaw.

You press a kiss to the side of Steve’s head, where it had run into Eddie’s, then one to his lips. He’s clearly shocked by the gesture, because his eyes widen and he can’t seem to shut them for the entirety of the kiss. You pull back, another giggle escaping you at his incredulous expression.

“Fuck,” He breathes, “I didn’t- I didn’t think you would do that.”

“Well now you’d better do it to me,” Eddie wastes no time in baring his head, tucking his chin to his chest to give you better access to his life-threatening injury, “Kiss!”

You comply as butterflies ravage your tummy, flitting this way and that, their pretty wings brushing the walls of your stomach. You swear there must be thousands as you pop a kiss to Eddie’s messy hair, then let him tug your face to hover in front of his. He practically lunges for you, lips tasting like popcorn you’re sure he snuck while you were in the bathroom.

He’s not as polite as you were with Steve, going back for more each time you think of pulling away. Finally you have to murmur at him, your words muffled by the kiss, “Eddie… Eddie? Eddie!”

“Jesus,” Steve yanks Eddie away by the collar of his shirt, a blush still redenning his cheeks from when you’d kissed him, “Let her breathe, dude.”

Then he seems to realize his loss, scrunching his face up, “His was longer than mine.”

“You went first!” Eddie insists adamantly.

“Not the same,” Steve is the one to pull you in this time, fitting his lips perfectly against your own. As if two kisses hadn’t been enough to turn your stomach inside out, the third had you melting, your hands falling from each of their jaws.

Steve’s just barely pulling away when you feel Eddie’s lips on your cheek, turning to face him and bumping noses. He takes the opportunity to peck your lips once more, and you realize you’re about to be smothered if you don’t take action now.

“Okay,” You giggle giddily, wriggling out from where you’ve sunk into their embrace, “Okay, so, we’re together now?”

“Yes,” Steve nods, his teeth on display as he grins, “That feels nice to hear.”

Eddie nods vigorously, “Even better when you consider we’re alone here for the weekend.”

“Eddie,” You chide, swatting bashfully at him, “So pervy!”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie laughs incredulously, “I mean, it’s not a bad idea!”

“It’s not,” You sigh resentfully, wishing you had the willpower to deny him, “But I wanna finish the movie first!”

“Okay!” Eddie mimics the pattern of your voice, pinching you teasingly in the side, “I can already tell it’s gonna be hard saying no to you.”

“He already doesn’t say no to me.” You gesture to Steve, then press an apologetic kiss to his rosy cheek when he grumbles about it, “Lets me get away with whatever I want, huh Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gripes, “It’s not my fault you’re too cute to say no to.”

His sappy admission makes you squeal, and it puts a smile on Steve’s face. You catapult onto his chest from across the couch, snuggling your head into his neck while your legs wind around his waist, “You’re so good to me, Steve.”

“‘Course I am,” He puffs up proudly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t?”

Boyfriend. The word, although foreign, feels familiar, something you’ve known for all of your time with him. It describes Eddie perfectly too, who’s scooting across the couch to kiss your nose as your cheek presses against Steve’s chest.

“Alright you two,” Eddie groans, but smiles sweetly at the both of you, a harmless tease, “Let’s actually finish the movie? You can hold her for now, Steve, but I swear to god the second we put another tape in, she’s mine.”

“You’re gonna have to take her from me,” Steve threatens, his arms tightening around your waist as you play along, clinging to him, “I’ve waited for too long not to enjoy this.”

“You can enjoy it until Grease is done.” Eddie warns again, narrowing his eyes at you when you stick your tongue out teasingly at him, “Then you can be the sad, lonely one.”

The words ‘sad’ and ‘lonely’ tug your brows down, and you crane up off of Steve’s chest to pucker your lips at Eddie. He surges forward with a bright smile, kissing you sweetly this time letting you go within a reasonable time.

“Sweet girl,” Eddie coos at you, watching as you snuggle yourself back into Steve’s nack. He leans down himself, bracing his back against the cushions behind him as he tentatively rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, just beside your own, “Are you even watching the movie?”

You can’t see it anymore, now facing away from the tv. But you are facing Eddie, and that’s more than enough to keep you occupied. Steve’s hand brushes slowly, soothingly over your back and your lashes flutter dreamily, Eddie’s grin inches from your own.

“No,” You shake your head slightly, the movement burrowing you further into Steve, “I’d much rather watch you.”

Steve lets out a teasing scoff at your cheesiness, pinching you lightly in the side, “You’re a sap.”

“Shut it, Harrington.” You take on Eddie’s nickname for the man, pushing yourself up onto his chest to glower threateningly at him, “Don’t make me cut your turn short.”

“I’m sorry!” Steve dramatically apologizes, clutching you tight, “I’m sorry, don’t go, I love you.”

The familiar phrase warms your heart, and you settle back onto his chest with a content sigh.

“I love you too,” You respond to Steve while looking at Eddie, both men feeling the overwhelming affection oozing off of you, “More than anything.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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mydearlybeloathed · 7 months

Text

𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: growing worried about the degree of your nail biting habit, nico ignores the advice of his boyfriend and takes matters into his own hands.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nico di angelo x platonic!gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:: 1.7k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: a curse word i think, nail biting

Agitated was the only word to express how Nico Di Angelo felt, watching as you picked at the hangnail currently torturing you. The two of you were sitting in a mythos lesson at Camp Halfblood, but neither of you were listening.

While you were focused on getting rid of this hangnail—biting off half your nail in the process—Nico gritted his teeth as he observed the horrible nervous habit of yours. Finally, he had enough, and swiped your wrist away from your face.

His glare was firmly planted on your face. “Stop. You could get an infection that way.” He retreated into his seat beside you, slouching over. “Plus, its gotta hurt like a devil.”

You shrugged in reply as you tucked your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep them away from your mouth. “Eh. It does. Can’t help it though.”

“I know,” your best friend said through a sigh, a tiny grin sipping across his pale face.

“Besides, I won’t actually get an infection from biting my nails, Nico.”

His brows rose just slightly. “How do you know?”

“Because,” you snapped back, messing with your nails in the confines of your pocket now, waiting for when Nico was gone to finish evening them out. “That’s stupid.”

He scoffed and looked away. “Go ask Will, and he’ll tell you it’s not.”

“He’s biased.”

“How?”

It only took one look, one raise of your brows, and the boy’s pale face was flushed as he shoved your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you laugh, and the discussion was over. For now, at least. If anything, you’d only made Nico even more determined to prove you wrong.

He understood, of course. You really couldn’t help it. But he wanted to help you, at the very least, and if that meant scaring you into kicking the habit, so be it.

“Could you talk to them about it?” he asked—begged—Will. He was practically chasing his boyfriend around the infirmary, ranting about his deep rooted worry for their mutual friend.

Will was being patient, or, he was really trying to be, but with the previous day’s Capture the Flag game gone awry, and every bed in the infirmary holding a whining little shit camper, Nico was really testing him.

“Nico,” Will finally said, leading him into the supply room and away from the gossiping ears of those around. “I’ll talk to them, but I think you should too.”

“I have been–”

“I mean talk to them and listen too.” Will silenced Nico with a look, pursing his lips as he chose the right words. “Have another conversation about it, okay?”

Nico wanted to ask again, but anytime he brought it up, you just shut down and found an excuse to leave. Weeks went by, and Nico’s worry got the better of him. He decided to take matters into his own hands, much to the exhaustion of Will.

Coming out of the shadows, Nico entered into the throne room of Hades. The place was dim, torches alighting the walls just enough for him to make out the pillars and, most importantly, the three thorns at the end of the ling chamber.

Each throne was empty, but someone was there. He felt them, their presence, somewhere nearby. Scanning the area, Nico zeroed in on the archway leading out to the palace gardens, where all the beloved plants of the Queen were grown. Bingo.

Nico slinked outside, setting eyes on a pallidly beautiful woman tending to a patch of black roses. Her back was to him, but instantly, she rose from her knees and turned, her gaze burning into him with a malice.

Nico halted a few feet from her, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets and his hair falling into his face. “Hey.”

Persephone looked down her nose at him. “Bastard son.” A subtle smile settled on her face. “About time you came home.”

He shrugged. “Haven’t had time, you know? Anyway, is Dad around?”

With a light scoff the Queen of the Underworld twirled her hand, sending black roots to wrap around Nico’s ankles. “No time for your stepmother? Typical. I give you and that nice Apollo boy gifts every birthday, and this is the thanks I get?”

Nico chuckled as he shook the roots off and said, “Sorry, I just have something really important I need from him.”

“Fine,” Persephone snapped. “Hades!”

A moment later Nico’s father stepped out of the shadows, frustration seeping off of him. He gritted out, “Yes, my love?”

Persephone pointed to Nico, who waved weakly when his father’s eyes found him. “Oh. Hello, boy. What do you need?”

Nico looked out of the garden, and in the distance he could see the Fields of Asphodel. “How many people have died from biting their nails?”

“Honestly,” said Hades as he and his son approached the fields, shades parting for them as they went. “To think I can just tell you off the top of my head is ridiculous. Do you have any idea how many have died?”

Nico gave him a look. “Are you going to tell me?”

“No, because it’s impossible,” snapped Hades. “You can have your look around. Surely someone fits your description.”

Nico raised his brows. “No way I’m doing this alone. You see how big this place is?”

Sighing, Hades gave his son a withered look, before bellowed, “Come forth those who have died of... What was it?”

“Nail biting.”

Hades paused, questioned his immortal life choices, and continued, “Those who have died of nail biting!”

To Nico’s surprise, around thirty shades stepped forward. Hades stuck around for the time being, having the shades stand in single file as Nico interviewed them one by one.

By the time Hades grew bored and his departure inspired the scattering of the shades, Nico had what he needed, and promptly dragged a ghost to the Overworld.

“Brooklynn,” he called for you, walking into the Big House where you’d been filing papers for Chiron--for a price, of course. This wasn’t free labour.

You smiled at him. “Sup.”

Nico was nervous about something, you noticed quickly, abandoning your work for a moment to see why he was fidgeting with the end of his jacket. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured. “I just had something to show you.”

As you stood there waiting, Nico called out for someone, but instead of entering through the door, they just materialized out of thin air. Startled, you simply looked from the shade to your best friend. “Who’s this?”

“Oh,” Nico blanked. “I never asked.”

“I–I’m Jim, Your Highness” said the terrified shade.

Nico nodded. “Right, this is Jim.”

Confused beyond all else, you screwed your brows together and just stared at him. “Nico, what is this?”

“An intervention,” he put simply, turning on the shade with shary eyes. “Jim, tell Y/N why you’re dead.”

“Nico!” you seethed.

The shade—Jim—shook his head hurriedly. “No, it’s no trouble, Your Highness. I–well, I–I died of a heart attack.”

Impatient, Nico waved him on. “Caused by…”

“Oh, uhm, it was septicemia.” At my puzzled look, Jim elaborated. “A blood infection.”

Nico still wasn’t satisfied, rolling his eyes and urging, “And how’d you get it, Jim?”

The gloomy shade glanced down at his hands, holding them up and saying, “Well, I had a nervous habit. Bit my nails down to the nub every day. I guess I caught something ‘cause of the constant open wounds.”

Now it all made sense. With your eyes locked on the shade, you became conscious that you were picking at a hangnail on your thumb as you stood there, peeling away skin and opening a fresh cut. “Oh.”

“See,” said Nico cheerfully, trying to clap Jim on the back, but his hand only passed through the shade. “Told you. You can die from biting your nails.”

The longer you said nothing, and the longer you stared into space, the more uncomfortable Nico got. He glanced over and locked eyes with Jim, who offered a shrug in reply. Nico sighed. “You’re dismissed.”

And the shade faded as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving only Nico and you. He rocked on his heels, watching you carefully. “Y/N?”

As his hand reache dout to poke you back to life, you swatted him away and did just that, but you weren’t as grateful as Nico had hoped you’d be. Instead, your eyes were narrowed and your fists were tight at your sides. “Nico, what the fuck?”

“I–” he stammered. “I thought this would help. Motivation to stop…”

“It didn’t,” you snapped, voice cracking. Nico’s breath hitched; your eyes were red and your chin shook. What had he done wrong?

“I… I don’t get it.”

You held up your hand, littered in Bluey bandaids fresh from Will’s kit. “I can’t stop, Nico. I’ve tried.”

Try harder, he thought, but didn’t say. “I–I’m sorry. I thought I was helping.”

“Helping would be leaving me alone,” you said slowly, swallowing thickly.

Now, Nico wasn’t great at this comfort thing, but he knew one thing for certain: leaving was mostly never the right call. Will had taught him that. Talk to them and listen too. “Y/N, I really am sorry.”

Your eyes didn’t meet his, shame crawling up your neck as you hid your hands in your hoodie pockets. “Yeah, I know. I know. Just… leave it, okay?”

“Okay…”

He didn’t bring it up again. He was always too scared of hurting you to do that. Instead, he listened, and watched for when your fingers were particularly more wounded than usual.

Nico made sure there was always a fun box of bandaids in your cabin, and he knew the Paw Patrol and Strawberry Shortcake ones were your favorite. You were never out of neosporin, and new shades of nail polish showed up on your nightstand every once in a while.

And though you never said anything about it, you were grateful, and you liked how he smiled when you painted your nails and got them to grow out a bit before it chipped away and the cycle restarted.

Occasionally, a joke about a man named Jim will come up, first by you of course, and Nico could only stand locking eyes with you for two seconds before he keeled over laughing. No one else understands, and neither of you care to explain.

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #x platonic!reader #nico di angelo x platonic!reader #gn reader #will solace #solangelo #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson and the olympians #rick riordan #nico x reader #nico x platonic!reader #nico di angelo one shots #nico di angelo pjo

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willowser · 8 months

Text

bakugou hesitates beneath the dim light of the station lamp.

you notice it at the last moment, half-turned from him already. red riot is waiting at the end of the sidewalk, far back behind him, a fuzzy, red little blip in the distance; before, he at least tried to act like he was interested in something on his phone, though now that he is safely out of reach of his partner's searing glare, his attention is all yours.

it feels like permission, for something. whatever it is has your heart growing in your chest, beating almost painfully.

in one quick flash of movement, bakugou pushes a rough hand up his face, dragging his mask along with his fingers until it's free. there, it dangles a bit limply as he stares down at it, picking at a loose string. he's fussed his hair up a little, but you don't think he knows and it's too cute to call attention to.

by now, he should be half-way back to kirishima, back to patrol. back to the city.

"think y'can manage not to die if i catch up with shitty hair?"

you had hummed coyly, silly and light beneath his severe stare. the darkness of his mask bleeds into his eyes, making them seem deeper, sharper; it's hard not to squirm at the other end of it.

"we'll see, i guess," you grinned. "listen for me to scream real loud, okay?"

bakugou had huffed, material of his gloves scratching against itself as his fists balled. "don't say shit like that."

now he's pulling them off, his gloves. staring down at his own hands, skin a bit pale in the winter evening. you watch him flex his fingers, warming the life back into them, before he's glancing up at you from beneath his long lashes.

"got this," he murmurs, without explanation, "shit on my face."

and — he does; eyes still shadows, outlined in his tacky, grease paint. a ghost of his breath floats by every time he huffs, but there's a sheen to the paint, high on the points of his cheeks, where it's smeared, like he's sweating in this kind of weather.

again, you see the ant in distance move, and you think he may be closer.

finally, you ask, "what are you doing?" because — he should be gone by now.

the rare moments you earn with him are often stolen away by dynamight; this should be no different. instead, he is here, having quietly accompanied you to the train too late at night, borrowing time neither of you can afford to pay back.

not that you would. not when he's shuffling in his heavy boots, gloves crumpled in one tight, icy fist. bakugou raises to his full height — a sudden reminder, of his greatness; his slouch is terrible — and you feel the night closing in on you both. shrouding you in something unfamiliar.

he doesn't say anything, just fixes you with a determined stare that makes you feel seen; maybe too seen. before your heart can land another beat, he's there, too close in front of you, melting what ice has gathered over your own fingers.

you gasp quietly, visible in the winter. there's something a bit frightening about him like this, dressed in his warring gear, painted like a warrior, but heat floods your face and builds on the back of your neck, excited by the hazard of him.

he's so beautiful, unappreciated. you look into the soft plain of his face and melt a little further, lean in as if to press your cheek to his.

bakugou lets out another huff; a mirror of your own breath. he murmurs, "fuck it," before closing the space between you, finally.

his lips are a little dry, but so are yours, by the chill, and the first kiss is quick and firm and chaste. he doesn't move away from you when it's over, though, just crowds you with a furrowed brow, nudging it gently against yours in an affectionate little headbutt.

it makes you laugh and that pulls him in again, rough fingers sliding along the curve of your jaw, keeping you together as his lips part with your own, deep and slow, savored. you've day-dreamed this moment with him one-thousand times since entering into his weird, intimate little space, but he's easier to fall into than you could have ever imagined.

bakugou breathes against you, open and panting, and you know he needs to go — but he doesn't fight when you rest a hand on his chest; his fingers tangle in your hair and his lips become kiss-bitten, red and wet as he parts to you for the last time tonight, tongue brushing your own before he's pulling away with a rushed, "fuck,"

you blink up at him, smile growing as red riot hoots and hollers down the street. bakugou's face is as red as his partner's costume, not dimmed in the slightest as he breathes in the night air, turns his face up to the chill.

"i—" he hesitates again before taking a step away, yanking his mask back on. "call me when—y'get home."

you laugh, and the sound stops him for another split second, though his eyes are bright and alive as he gazes at you, this time. "okay," you agree, cheeks aching from your smile. "okay, i will, i promise."

it releases him; he doesn't waste another moment before turning on his heel, tugging his gloves on as he saunters back down the sidewalk — to a jumping kirishima. bakugou shoves him once, voice low and angry and unmistakable, even from the distance.

you both savor the moment one last time, with one more look, before it slips away.

#hi i just wanted to write about first kiss with him 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺#though i cant tell if i hate this or not EITHER WAY !!!! GOODNIGHT !!!!#WAAAAHHH can you tell how absolutely insane i am for him #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: pre relationship bakugou

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 1 year

Text

We've created a Monster Pt.II

Diavolo laughed at the screen of his DDD, hurriedly gesturing for Barbatos to join him.

'Come see this, Barbatos, Lucifer just shared the most delightful video!'

'I'm sure it must be of great importance for you to neglect your paperwork, my lord.'

Sheepishly, Diavolo turned to screen toward him, presenting the still image of an envy demon dwarfing their powerless exchange student.

'Oh my, lord this image is far from amusing.'

'Trust me, just press play.'

So he did, and was very much not expecting what came next. 'I see, it seems MC has grown rather more capable than I gave them credit for.'

'According to Lucifer they were rather unbothered by the threat, he even called a family meeting to address the event and MC just...laughed them off?'

Barbatos couldn't help but smile. 'How remarkable, expected though. MC has seen demons far more frightening than a lesser envy demon.'

'That's what they said to the brothers, though Lucifer seems to find it far less amusing than we do.'

'I imagine, it is not the sort of scenario he would find at all pleasant. Threat to our young human cause him a great deal of unrest.'

Diavolo grinned a conspirator's smile. 'Just him?'

'...fair point.'

'Why are the incantations so long? I'm trying to light a candle not summon a hurricane.' MC huffed, slouching into the armchair with the grimoire laid open across her thighs. 'It's like a religious text.'

'Magic's way of making sure you mean to get what you're asking for.' Solomon's smile was beguiling, almost sweet, but not.

He's a menace, and no one knows that better than MC, who's been taking magical instruction for him for months.

The sorcerer crossed his legs, flipping through a new spell book MC brought over from Satan. 'So, I hear you had some fun at RAD this morning.'

MC rolled their eyes, reluctantly going back to memorising incantations. 'You too? Does the entire Devildom know about that by now?'

'I'd say so, everyone who matters at least. We haven't told Luke, poor thing would loose his mind if he had actual proof of how dangerous the devildom really is for you.'

'I'm not in any danger, you're starting to sound like Lucifer.' MC huffed. 'Next thing I know you'll be off on a lecture about my lack of self preservation and needing to be careful.'

'I would never, watching you get in trouble is my favourite pass time.' He winked teasingly, kicking his shows up on the coffee table. 'I am curious though, what was going through your head when he threatened you? I remember being a little intimidated the first time a demon tried to kill me.'

'I'm honestly surprised you remember your first anything anymore.'

'Don't change the subject.' Tutted Solomon with that congenial smile of his that was neither friendly nor threatening. 'What were you thinking?'

MC sighed, closing the grimoire and turning their attention to the plate of cookies Luke left for them. 'It was annoying, I went into RAD early to get ahead on a project I was supposed to be working on with Simeon. Could have expected that reaction when I told him Levi wears envy way better. That time he tried to kill me gave me nightmares for days.'

'...MC, how many times have those lunatics nearly killed you?'

'Pfft, you think I keep count? Between Beel's tantrums, Mammon's schemes and just existing in Lucifer's radius I nearly die at least twice a week. It was way more when I first met them though.'

Solomon had to resist the urge to gape. His sense of normal may be a few thousand years past twisted, but this is... odd even for him. A human this young should not be this comfortable with domestic danger, let alone love those who put them there.

Several, times, a week.

MC carries on eating their cookies happily, reaching for another one when their eye catches something on the table, half hidden behind a book, but that beastly silhouette is unmistakeable, and they immediately curl into the chair as though they've been burned.

Pitching a whine to alert the house, their wide eyes fixate on the eight legged monstrosity, arms coiled tight around themselves as their skin immediately begins to crawl and twitch as though being assaulted by hundreds of the tiny beasts.

'What?! What is...oh, hello there.'

Solomon is almost left a aghast all over again. Here sits the most desensitised human he's ever met (besides himself), curled up in a ball, over a spider.

Fair be it a decent sized spider, probably the size of his thumb, but a mere spider nonetheless.

'You looked a 20-foot snake in the eye, you take Cerberus for evening walks with Lucifer...' he trailed off, carefully nudging the arachnid into an empty glass and caging it with a book '...and you're afraid of a spider?'

'Fuckin' right I am! And I'm not going to justify it to you so get rid of it before I set you on fire!'

Solomon laughed, and laughed until he couldn't hold himself upright anymore, wiping a tear from his eye, but when next he looked up, MC was still staring at the spider, eyes so full of genuine terror and brimming with tears, he felt guilt strike him.

'This...genuinely frightens you, doesn't it?'

MC nodded, lip jutted in an involuntary pout, skin raised in goose bumps. 'I wish it didn't.'

'Alright, I'm sorry. I'll get rid of it.'

And he did, and made a point of making sure everyone knew about MC's phobia, and didn't make fun of them for it.

Was it ironic that someone who looked death in the eye and waved was afraid of spiders? Absolutely, but no one chooses fear over comfort, and MC has chosen to be brave one too many times for anyone to begrudge them one or two irrational fears.

#obey me x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me undateables

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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 months

Text

A young, horny Lambert sets his sights on an older hunk of Witcher beef. CW: age gap, flirtation.

"I'm going for it."

"Lambert, don't be a fucking idiot. They'll laugh at you."

"They might, but he won't. You miss all the chances you don't take, right?"

"Your funeral."

Lambert licked his lips and smoothed his hair back as he stood. He hadn't torn his eyes away from his mark for a single second since said man had swaggered into the hall a few hours before. This was the winter he'd do it. He was a man himself now, which meant he had every chance of bagging himself the hunk of good-lookin' he'd been coveting from the moment his dick had started getting hard at night and hair had appeared on his jaw.

Eskel.

It wasn't just that Eskel had two decades on Lambert or that he was becoming a seasoned witcher. No other Witcher in the keep compared. Sure, some tried. They might step toe to toe during drills or try to outflame Eskel's igni, but they never could. The only one that outmatched Eskel was his pale shadow, Geralt. They even looked a little similar. But cream puff was a fucking bean pole of a man, and that shitty headband...

N'aw, Lambert wanted big. He wanted heat, and honey eyes, and that thatch of dark hair he'd seen on Eskel's barrelled chest in the baths, and that huge fucking d--

"You lost, Lambert?"

Lambert blinked. Gweld, the ginger prick, was frowning at him, ale tankard halfway up to his mouth. The others had paused their card game; Clovis looked drunk, Geralt was slouched back trying to see Clovis' hand and Eskel was watching Lambert speculatively.

Watching, with those honey-coloured eyes that turned Lambert inside out. The words caught in Lambert's throat; shit, fuck, why was he so fuckin' stupid the moment Eskel looked at him?

He took a breath, conscious of Clovis elbowing Gweld with a chuckle, while Geralt looked over with a smirk.

Lambert found his words. He folded his arms, thrust his chest out, widened his stance and put on his best cocky smirk. "Was just wonderin' whether Eskel wanted some better company. You losers can't handle your beer at the best of times."

They laughed. Gweld elbowed Eskel who cocked a half smile, eyes rolling not at Lambert, but his friends, proving Lambert's point. Obviously.

"Is that right?" Geralt asked, amusement turning his narrow face bright with a toothy grin. Lambert had been told that as witchers matured they honed their sense of smell, could identify a man's emotions from his body language, the flush in his skin. Lambert knew Geralt had him sussed. "And what kinda company are you offering?"

"Geralt..." Eskel growled in warning, and it went straight to Lambert's groin. Fucking hells.

"Whatever he wants. I'm a man of many talents."

More laughter--"little man has game, shit; fuck, I'm chokin, too funny"--but Lambert wasn't put off. Eskel's eyes were on him, warming him like the sun. The lines around those eyes were wrinkled with mirth, and damn if that smile wasn't snatching the breath right out of Lambert's chest.

"Does your master know you're out?" Eskel asked, placing his cards face down. He leaned back in his chair and slung his elbow onto the back of it, knee turned out while a hand tapped at his drink.

Lambert tried to keep his eyes level and resist the urge to... look. Eskel's codpiece put on an absolutely fucking heroic effort, but it could only hide so much and that was when Eskel was soft. "What he don't know can't hurt him. No business of his who else is in my bed as long as I am."

Eskel pressed his lips together to smother his smile while the others guffawed. More was said but Lambert didn't really hear; he was too focused on keeping his heart from beating out his chest and appearing suave.

Eskel hummed. "Aren't you a little young to be lookin' for that kinda fun?"

"Worried you won't be able to keep up, old man?" Lambert felt momentum. He could do snark, he could meet Eskel on this well worn ground, toe to toe, and the way Eskel's head tilted to the side and his eyebrow rose. It wasn't a no, right? He looked interested. Amused, but he didn't dismiss Lambert outright.

Gweld slapped Eskel on the shoulder with a bark. "Eskel here's got stories that'd make your balls shrivel up into yer belly, lad. I don't think he's a good choice for yer first ride, best drop your ambitions."

"Fuck off, Gweld," Eskel said, but there was no heat to his words. Just wry amusement.

Geralt snorted into his drink and Clovis made a vulgar gesture with his hand, but before Lambert could respond a familiar voice barked through the hall and sucked all the building sexual tension into a vacuum. "Lambert, get your arse to bed, you missed roll call!"

Lambert clenched his teeth, shoulders lifting towards his ears. For fuck's sake...

Three of the witchers in front of him groaned in mock empathy. "Oof, tough break, Lambino. Cock blocked by Vesemir," Gweld said, shaking his head while Geralt and Clovis snickered. "Don't worry, we've all been there. Ain't that right, Gerbear?"

Geralt guffawed in protest and smacked Gweld on the shoulder. It quickly devolved into a wrestling match on the floor, one which Gweld was definitely going to lose. Eskel watched them briefly before he looked back at Lambert. "Another time perhaps," he said, toasting Lambert with his ale. "G'wan, before he decides the target dummies are a little light on straw."

Lambert grunted, frustrated, but stalked away. He'd made inroads, and the way Eskel's eyes had shone, and that crooked grin. Eskel hadn't outright rejected him, hells, he'd--well, that smile... Eskel didn't smile at everyone like that.

Lambert laid in bed with that smile behind his eyes and a hand under the sheets, determined that it would be Eskel's instead of his own by winter's end.

#the witcher #tw3 #witcher eskel #witcher lambert #if you know what song inspired this you know

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frost-queen · 5 months

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To his liking (Reader x Steve Raglan /W. Afton)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

A/n: This is my first time doing something for this fandom. I hope it is any good as I didn't have much time for my regular request so I whipped something up. Summary: In need of a new job you find yourself at Steve Raglan's office hoping he would find a job for you. [part 2 & part 3 ]

Your knee trembled nervously. Sweaty palms rubbing against your legs. You had read the posters in the little waiting room numerous times. All silly adds with cheesy lines. Your gaze drifted to the left where an elderly lady was typing loudly in her computer. Her face hidden behind the big box of a screen. The smell of her coffee adding a new scent to the already muffy smelling room.

You seated yourself better, feeling that your bottom had been hurting from sitting on that darn wooden stool for what seemed ages. Four wooden stools lined up against the walls in order to wait. Beside the stool on your right was a small table with old magazines. At least dated from five years back. Looking back around you started to wonder why you were even her. Yet the answer was very clear.

This was your last chance. Your last chance at making a change. Rubbing your sweaty palms over your legs again, you let yourself slouch down in the chair. Just a few more minutes and you might call it off. Simply get up and walk out as you weren’t getting anywhere. Waiting for ages. Waiting for that wooden door to finally open and allow you to meet your future.

The clock ticking almost tauntingly by the minute. It was agonizing to wait this long. It was almost as if they were testing your duration. See how long you would stand with it before throwing in the towel. Sighing again you moved your bottom to the back of the stool, leaning forwards. Palms in your hair. The lady behind her desk kept typing loudly without a care or notice of you.

This was it. You had enough. Leg shaking nervously. You jumped up with a deep breath. At the same time you got up, opened the wooden door. No one standing in the door opening. It made you stare at the door wondering if anyone else before you would head out.

A slim figure wearing glasses opened the door more standing in the opening. – “Y/n Y/l/n just who I was expecting.” – he said moving a bit back to create an opening. Somehow you kept staring at him. He chuckled waving you over. – “Come, come don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” – he teased with half a smirk.

Walking up to him you saw the lady behind the compute follow your movement with her head. Her expression dull and neutral. Pausing briefly in the door opening you looked up to the man. He smiled invitingly at you. With one soft breath you entered more as the door got shut behind you. – “Please, sit.” – he offered gesturing at another one of those uncomfy chairs. You sat down looking around his office. He walked behind you across towards the coffeemaker. You kept your gaze in front of you, pressing your hands between your legs.

A name clip standing on his desk. Raglan it read. Steve Raglan. – “Coffee?” – you heard him call out. Humming loud you snapped out of your little thought bubble. – “Oh uhm no thank you.” – you answered moving your hands away. Raglan went to his desk, sitting down across from you. He set his coffee mug aside. He leaned a bit back taking a file from his desk. He opened it leaning fully back.

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his finger over his beard and mouth. You kept a close eye on his expression. His seriousness when his eyes trailed over the words. The way you felt a bit shy around him. He took a soft gasp of breath leaning forwards to the desk, laying your file down. – “I’m going to be honest with you Y/n… may I call you Y/n?” – he asked looking over at you.

You nodded hesitantly with a flush in your cheeks. – “With your record of work, it won’t be easy to find someone that would like to hire you.” – he said making you swallow nervously. – “Yelling and cursing at a parent.” – he read out loud with a slight shake of his head. – “Calling them a pervert and kicking them in the…” – he stopped as his gaze went up to you. – “Delicate area’s.” – he added waving his hand down his stomach to show you.

“That is unacceptable behaviour Y/n.” - he went on picking up your file again. – “He had it coming.” – you mumbled. Raglan curling up a smile. – “I’m sure he did.” – he responded as it startled you that he had heard you. – “I’m not hear to judge you Y/n but that wasn’t your first fall-out.” – he looked down at your file, flipping a page.

And another one. – “You have a history of being violent.” – his gaze flashed up to you. Was there a hint of a smile on him? Did your violent history amuse him? He placed the file down again leaning forwards as he folded his hands before him. – “It’s not going to be easy for you Y/n.” – his words echoing like doomsday in your mind. Were you done for it?

“So you got nothing for me?” – you asked trying to hide your fear of having nothing. Raglan licked his lips leaning back in his chair. – “I’m afraid so.” – he replied watching you closely. You broke. Leaning back to look up at the ceiling with the deepest sigh. You were ready to get up and walk out. What use was staying here if he had nothing to offer you.

Raglan picked up on your urge to get up and walk out. He got up making you freeze half way from getting up. You watched him go around the desk to come lean against the edge on your side. It made you sit back down eager to know what he wanted to say.

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. – “I might have something for you.” – he started sparking up your interest. – “The hours are brutal and the pay-check even worse.” – he went on. – “I don’t care.” – you said eagerly grabbing onto the railing of the chair. Raglan smiled. – “Ever heard of Freddy fazzbear’s pizzeria?” – he asked. You shook your head. – “It was a big thing in the eighties.” – he added. – “Before it got shut down.” – he finished looking down at you.

He looked briefly over his shoulder to your file on his desk. – “I read in your file you played dress-up for kid’s parties a few years ago.” – you hummed loud to acknowledge him. Raglan chuckled softly removing himself slightly from the desk. His hand grabbed for your chin, tilting your head back. His eyes locking with yours.

Somehow you didn’t push his hands away. Actually finding it mesmerizing how they held you. – “How do you stand against masks?” – he asked. – “Although it would be a shame to hide that pretty face of yours behind one.” - You felt your cheeks burn up from his words. – “What do I have to do?” – you asked as he let go of your chin. – “Dress up.” – he spoke plainly. – “I…I thought the place got shut down?” – you asked to be sure you had heard him correctly.

“You’d make a fine addition to the… family.” – he answered deflecting your question. – “The kids will love you.” – he muttered to himself. He took you by your hands making you stand up. – “What do you say Y/n do you plan on staying?” – he asked holding your hands dearly.

Having no other option you accepted. It didn’t sound that bad. Dressing up for some kids. As long as there weren’t any rude or perverse parents to test your temper. Raglan curled up a sinister smile.

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