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mysicklove · 6 months

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𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋!

DAY 18: DRY ORGASM

With: Yuuta Okkotsu

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Sub! Yuuta, gn! reader, multiple orgasm, sorta mentions of cnc? idk, "breeder balls" are used in a silly goofy way, pregnancy mentioned, yuuta cums a total of six times, unrealistic portrayal of dry orgasms.

A/N: i almost named this fic breeder balls just to mess with all you guys. kinktober is driving me crazy

“It will be fun. C’mon, just trust me!” You tease, pressing kisses along Yuuta’s neck while he sighs. You sit behind him, hands resting on his stomach while you continue to pepper kisses along his neck. One of his weaker points.

He lets out a shaky breath and then whines gently. “I don’t know…I-It sounds kinda scary.”

“Aw, scary? C’mon, my big, strong, sorcerer boyfriend isn’t afraid of anything,” You quip, teeth grazing his pale skin when you smile into his back.

Your hands begin to roam up and down his body, and he gulps but doesn’t stop you. He does let out a noise of complaint about your choice of words though. “Yknow that isn’t true,” He mumbles out, pouting slightly.

You pinch his nipples, and he lets out a high-pitched squeal before turning to you with a half-hearted glare. “Sorry, they are too cute.”

He sighs, slumping against your chest and closing his eyes. “You're the worst.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that. You love me.”

He glances at you before rolling his eyes and nodding softly. Yeah, he did, even with all your teasing.

“Yuutaaaaa,” You purr, getting back to the main point. “Let’s do it.”

He hums, nodding for you to continue to try to convince him. He was still unsure and slightly nervous at the thought.

“You will look so cute. Haven’t you always wanted to cum like a girl? To have every ounce of cum milked out of you,” You bite his ear, earning a whole body shiver from the boy. “Forced out of you. Till you’re shooting blanks.”

That immmediately perks him up, and he cranes his head backward to look up at you with a sheepish grin. He already feels himself growing hard.

“F-Forced?”

You grin.

“No more! No more! Please!” He screeches, tears and drool coating his face and falling onto the sheets below him. He was heaving, and he feels like every inch of his body was covered in cum. His thighs and stomach were so sticky, and he was unbelievably sweaty.

Shaky legs try to crawl forward, away from your tortuous hands, but he ultimately fails. You use one arm to grab him by the waist and pull him back. “Where do you think you are going?”

He lets out a pathetic “Noooo!” as his fingers drag along the sheets back toward you. His thighs shake as he tries to hold his body up, and he buries his face into a pillow.

You hum to yourself, sitting cross-legged and fully clothed, contrasting your lover’s naked body. His knees straddle your legs, giving you a perfect sight of his ass and easier access to pull him back whenever he tries to crawl away.

His thighs, stomach, balls, and even your hand were coated with his cum, and is beginning to dry up from how long its been. But nevertheless, your hands continue to work at his cock, pulling it slightly downward so that it hangs between his open legs.

Yuuta lets out a choking noise, a mix between a gargle and a yelp, and suddenly he is cumming again. He doesn’t say anything as his orgasm comes crashing upon him again, but you weren’t surprised – he went borderline nonverbal after the third one.

His chest rises and falls with his rapid breathing, and you watch his whole body tense up. His tears stain the pillow, and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. The only thing that showed that he was in pleasure was the way his nails dug into the sheets as if he wanted to tear them apart from how intense the sensation was.

You frown through it all, and watch two globs of cum slide down your finger. His legs give out, and he begins to slump on the bed, but you are quick to grab him and hold his waist up with your arm. “Am I–Did I? Are we d-done?” He stutters, his voice raw from his previous screams and cries. You hear him sniffle and watch the way a shaky arm rubs at his nose.

You lightly slap his thigh. “Nope. Almost there, Yuuta! The next one will definitely be dry. Think I got the last couple of drops,” You say, pointing to his cum staining your hand.

He looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes and starts squirming in your hold. “No! I can’t go anymore. A-And you said that the last couple of times!” He screeches, legs kicking out like a toddler throwing a tantrum, trying desperately to run away from your hold.

Your hands remain on his waist, and you move your body aside so that he doesn’t accidentally kick you with his frantic, panicked movements. His dick was raw at this point, and every muscle was trembling. He couldn’t go again – he was exhausted, completely pushed to his limits.

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. This time I'm really sure! How many times have you ejaculated?”

He pauses for a moment, gulping as he thinks back to the previous events. “I think after that…Five times?”

You giggle at him, and the sound makes him tense up. Whenever he is put in these positions, and you laugh, it never is a good sign for him. “Woah, Yuuta, you really have a lot of cum stored up. I’ve heard that most men go dry after their third one…Don’t tell me your pent up?” You babble, passing time to hopefully let his body rest for a moment. Overstimulating him would probably kill the dark-haired boy.

He sniffles again, and then furrows his eyes and turns back toward you. “Im not, though. Came two days ago, remember?”

You think back to the night and chuckle fondly. “Yeah, I guess your right. Guess my lovely boyfriend just has breeder balls.” You laugh at yourself from the ridiculous word.

His mouth hangs open at your crude words, and he turns a bright shade of pink. Immediately, he tries to scramble out of your hold again, but you just laugh at his flustered noises. “Why would you say something like that? So embarrassing…And no, I don’t,” Your boyfriend complains, shaking his head back and forth to execute his point.

You hum to yourself, content that he has finally calmed down again, at least enough to put up and actively respond to your teasing words.

“Bet you could get any girl pregnant,” You continue to coax, mind drifting off from your words to return to your original motive. You begin to situate yourself again, hands moving back to the task at hand.

“Stop it, please! It’s so,” He groans into the pillow, unaware that you have begun to stand up. “I don’t know! Just sto–” Suddenly, his head is being forced into the pillow, and your hand is back onto his cock. Your movements are rough and fast, and his whole body seems to short-circuit.

Yuutas eyes widen as he feels the back of your hand pin his head into the pillow, and he feels your hands wrap around his dick again. He doesn’t even have time to react, except for a surprised yelp. By the time his brain catches up to the sensation, you have already palmed him four times now, and he is so sensitive. “W-Wait!” He begs, tears resurfacing.

The sound of your hand wrapping around his red cock is lewd. Loud squelching sounds fill the room, and he knows that the wetness is from his previous cum. It makes your head spin, and Yuuta wants to die from embarrassment.

Your hand finally lets go of his neck, and he pulls away immediately, gasping out for air. His back arches, and he begins his clawing at the bedsheets again. “F-Fuck,” Your lover whimpers, tears free streaming again.

His cock feels raw by now. Five orgasms in a row was an insane amount to him. The farthest he had gone before this was three, before he was forced to call it quits, or else risking him passing out. Right now, his mind seemed to be melting from the harsh feeling.

You have to support his body still by hoisting his hips upward. His forehead touches the sheets, and his bangs cover his face as he looks downward. It was almost disappointing that you couldn’t see his pretty expressions, but from what you could see by his sporadic movements, Yuuta was crumbling.

It hurt. Your hands were too rough. The pace was too intense. He can’t think anymore. His mouth hangs open, and his tongue threatens to loll out. All he can hear is your hands and his cum, and honestly, although he hates to admit it, it was spurring him closer to his orgasm.

Just one more. He can do that. He can cum one more time. Everything in him pleads for it to be dry, because he may seriously die if he has to go a seventh round.

So, with everything in him, he begins to grind into your hand, trying to coax his orgasm to come quicker. He lets out a silent scream, and he furrows his eyes shut but doesn’t stop fucking back into your hand.

You watch with amusement at the trembling boy’s movements. He was trying his best, and it was honestly quite cute. Just for him, you pick up the pace of your hand movements.

The reaction to it is immediate – the muscular body curls over on itself as he heaves. You bring him closer to you, now using both hands to jack him off, hoping he doesn’t collapse just for a couple more seconds.

Yuuta’s eyes roll back, and he can faintly hear your encouragements. “C’mon, love. Just one more. Cum for me one more time.”

He bites onto the pillow and nods his head, unable to give you a reply. He can feel his orgasm approaching, and frankly, it scared him. It was going to be a strong one, he could tell, and he was unsure if his body was able to take it. He was already shaking at this point, could his muscles really constrict one more time? He could barely hold himself up.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because his orgasm hits him out of the blue. For the first time since his second orgasm, Yuuta screams into the pillow. His thighs come squeezing together, and his fingers dig into anything they can grab. Tears continue to rush down his face, and he tries his best to breathe.

His knees come forward, and accidentally, he raises his hips higher into the air, creating a pretty arch in his back. You watch, mesmerized by the show, and then glance at his cock.

Not a single drop of cum is let out. You grin, and rub his thighs, coaxing him through it all, proud of him.

He slumps against the bed and this time you let him. Then, he very slowly turns to you, eyes cloudy. “I–I?” He tries, brain not catching up with him.

“Yep, good job. Came dry. I’m so proud of you.”

He gives you a lazy, but satisfied grin, nodding slightly. You crawl over to him, sitting down next to his head. He places his near-limp hand on your knee, and you hold onto it. “Guess…Guess I–No breeder balls for me,” He mumbles in full seriousness, as if he is proud of the fact.

You have to cover your mouth to refrain from laughing too loud. You place your head over his eyes, shutting them for him. “Guess not. Sleep, Yuuta.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He falls asleep not even a minute later. You don’t blame him.

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#mello.writes #Barkforme!#Kinktober 2023 #dom! reader #dom reader #gn reader #x reader #reader insert #yuuta smut #yuta x reader #yuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sub! yuuta #sub yuuta #jjk x reader smut

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temptingfatetakingnames · 6 months

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Open mic night was Eddie’s favourite night of the week. It wasn’t often that the group was able to make the drive up to Indy but everyone was finally available this time. Gareth, Jeff and Grant were going in his van. Steve was taking Robin, Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy. Steve hadn’t seemed too interested when Eddie had invited them but he owed Robin something and she forced him into being their designated driver for the evening’s festivities. It would be the first time the groups would be mixing and Eddie was incredibly anxious about it.

He loved Gareth, Jeff and Grant but they had no filters whatsoever and even though Steve might not be a douchebag anymore, he had still been King Steve and that didn’t just go away because they had fought interdimensional demons together. He also couldn’t explain to the guys the real reason he was hanging out with Steve without mentioning said interdimensional demons. So. Eddie was anxious. But it was open mic night and he was going to hope for the best. He fucking loved open mic night.

“Tell me again how you became friends with Harrington?” Grant asked from the back seat.

Eddie couldn’t help but sigh, he had explained (lied) to them all multiple times but they could sense that something was missing from the story.

“I told you! Henderson introduced us. You know how he always went on and on about him, had to see for myself.”

“And you hit it off? Just like that?” Jeff asked.

Eddie shrugged. That was the story and he was sticking to it.

“But why did you have to invite him to open mic night?” Gareth whined.

“Chill out. We’re going to have a good time,” Eddie said as he reached for the radio dial. He turned the music up louder, ending the Q and A portion of the ride.

When they pulled up at the bar, he saw that Steve and the rest of the gang were already there and waiting outside. He parked the van and went to meet them. Steve was standing a bit off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at Robin. He looked good. A simple black t-shirt showed off his arms and tight acid washed jeans showed off his ass. Eddie assumed Robin had helped him pick the outfit, he had never seen Steve wear black before. Nancy and Johnathan were holding hands and leaning into each other’s space and Argyle was finishing off the last few tokes of his joint.

Robin spotted him and the guys and waved them over.

“Hey, Eddie!” she said with a bright smile lighting up her face.

Eddie tucked one hand into his front pocket and used the other to wave back. “Hey guys, this is Grant, Jeff, and Gareth,” he said pointing at each of them in turn. “This is Robin, Nancy, Johnathan, Argyle and Steve.”

Introducing them all to each other might have seemed a little silly – they did all go to high school together. Well, except for Argyle – but it felt right, too. Eddie wanted them to get along and making introductions felt like a new start. They all nodded at each other, somewhat warily before moving to the door. They didn’t intermingle – group lines still clearly demarcated and Eddie sighed.

Wayne was good friends with the owner of the bar, so he let Eddie and his friends drink a bit. Usually just a pitcher or two of his cheapest beer, which was completely fine with him. Beer was beer as far as he was concerned and he wasn’t going to complain when he was getting it for free while he was still underaged. The place wasn’t too full yet, he liked to arrive a little early so he could get a spot near the front of the stage. He got everyone settled at the table and then dragged Jeff off to the bar to help him with the drinks.

“Hey there, my main man Moe,” Eddie sing-songed as he approached the man behind the counter. He was Wayne’s age with wrinkles around his eyes and grey in his hair. He and Wayne went way back, the best of friends even though they were complete opposites. Where Wayne could be quiet and standoffish, Moe was charismatic and brash – they balanced each other.

“Eddie!” Moe called back and smiled widely at him. “Good to see ya, how’s Wayne?”

“Wayne’s great! He says hello.”

“How many glasses?” Moe asked as he started to fill up a pitcher of beer. “You brought a big group this time.”

“Oh, uh – nine!... Please.”

Moe set the pitcher on the counter before turning to grab and stack a bunch of cups. Jeff picked up the cups and Eddie took the pitcher.

“Thanks, Moe.”

Moe waved him off, still smiling.

He and Jeff made their way back to the table. Eddie was pleased to see that the two groups were intermingling a bit when he got back. Robin was chatting with Grant and Gareth, which made sense – they probably had the most in common. Johnathan and Nancy were sitting side by side, listening. Argyle was currently a space cadet, staring at the popcorned ceiling like it was the night sky. And Steve – well Steve had his arms across his chest and was leaning back like he wished he was anywhere else. Whatever, he could be a grumpy goose all he wanted. Eddie placed the pitcher in the center and Jeff started handing out the cups.

“So, what’s the King been up to since graduating?” Gareth asked and then took a sip of beer. Eddie rolled his eyes. The question was innocent enough but the way Gareth asked it made it sound like he already knew the answer and it couldn’t be anything good.

“Family Video re-opened, so me and Robs have been working,” he said and shrugged, taking the question and the way it was asked in a surprisingly good stride.

“That’s it? Working at Family Video?” Grant chimed in with a smirk.

Everyone could read between the lines of what Grant and Gareth were saying – the great Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High graduated but going nowhere – Working a menial service industry job that he probably hated. Eddie didn’t know if Steve had any other plans. He knew Robin and Nancy were all set to go off to college once they graduated but he and Steve had never really talked about their life goals. Maybe he was happy with an easy job and no stress. There were worse things, he supposed. But he also couldn’t imagine getting stuck in fucking Hawkins.

“Yup,” Steve replied. “That’s it.”

“That is not it, Steve!” Robin said from across the table. “Why don’t you tell them –” Her words were cut off when Moe walked onto the stage and announced that open mic night had officially begun.

A cheer went around the room and usually Eddie would be the first one to go up to the mic but he wanted Robin to finish her sentence. It was clear she wasn’t going to when the cheers finally quieted and a man from the back of the room approached the stage. Eddie listened but he found himself distracted; he hated mysteries. Puzzles needed to be solved or else he felt them like an itch in the back of his mind. He would need to bring the conversation back around to Steve later so he could find out what else the man had going on.

When the first performance ended to polite claps, Eddie jumped up to go next. He loved putting on a show. Moe always had an acoustic and electric guitar on the stage for anyone who wanted to use them. Eddie grabbed the electric guitar and strummed a few chords, testing it out before he went up to the microphone. He usually stuck to more rock and roll songs for open mic night over the heavier stuff he performed with Corroded Coffin. It was nice to be able to do both and he loved it when the crowd sang along with him. He finished his slowed down version of For Whom the Bells Tolls with an exaggerated bow.

A few regulars he knew went up after him. Jeff did a great acoustic version of Number of the Beast which Eddie had not expected to work at all. Robin and Nancy did a Blondie’s song together that wasn’t half bad. They had nice voices, and Robin at least managed to stay on key. Blondie was no joke.

They were on their third pitcher, the mood at the table loosened as they talked and sang and drank. Eddie and Steve only had one beer each before switching to sodas – a stipulation of Moes that anyone he brought to drink had a safe drive home. Eddie had never bent this rule, he appreciated Moe giving them a space to come and drink and he wouldn’t get him in trouble by driving drunk.

“Steve! Your turn!” Nancy yelled.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not getting up there. I’m only here because Robin made me come.”

Jeff and Gareth shared a look between them, rolling their eyes.

“Afraid to sing in front of us, Harrington?” Eddie asked. He knew that Steve wasn’t afraid of anything. His dumb bravery would put the strongest barbarian to shame but sometimes heckling worked and Eddie really wanted to hear him sing.

Steve just leaned back calmly. “Not gunna work on me, Munson.”

“Steve,” Robin whined and stretched out his name, “you have to sing.”

“Nope,” Steve responded.

Robin leaned over so she was practically in his lap and squeezed his cheeks together.

“You have to sing, Steve,” she said with the utmost seriousness.

Something passed between them because Steve’s eyes got large and frightened and Robin snickered. She had something on him! Something he didn’t want her to tell them and she was threatening him with it. Good job, Robin!

Steve sighed deeply before heading up the stage as the crowd hooted and hollered.

Robin leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“He’s probably going to sing Tears for Fears or Abba or something,” Eddie said to the group.

“My money is on Madonna,” Nancy chimed in.

Robin snorted. “Duran Duran!”

They all laughed.

Steve grabbed the microphone and took a deep breath, looking out into the crowd. His first note echoed in the room and the talking and laughter ceased immediately, all eyes turned and focused on the stage.

I get up in the evenin’ And I ain’t got nothing to say Come home in the mornin’ I go to bed feelin’ the same way I ain’t nothin’ but tired Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help

Not a sound could be heard from anyone in the room as they all listened in rapt silence. Steve’s voice was ethereal, perfectly pitched, beautiful. Eddie had never heard anything like it.

You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

The thing was, Eddie liked Steve. He was a better person and friend than he could have ever expected of the former king. But he was a surface level person, what you saw was what you got. He could be sassy and mean and didn’t seem to dive too deeply into his own feelings. Steve was simple and he liked simple things. He was Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington for Christ sakes, he could not have the deep well of emotion and pain that he was conveying in this song.

But he did.

And he was.

Eddie turned to Robin and hissed in her ear as quietly as he could, “did you know about this?”

But she was looking at Steve just as dumbstruck as the rest of them and slowly shook her head.

You sit around gettin' older There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me I'll shake this world off my shoulders Come on, baby, the laugh's on me

Steve was baring his goddamn soul. And maybe Eddie had still been judging him too harshly on who he used to be – because they had fought a fucking war together. But it had always seemed to just…glide off Steve. They must have missed it – the darkness and loneliness in his eyes that Eddie was seeing now. They were all seeing it now. Nancy and Robin were both staring at him like they had never seen him before. Eddie was ashamed. How often did he lament people for thinking they knew him? For judging him on his looks before they even tried to know him? And now he had done it, too. But this was worse because Steve was his friend… and he hadn’t seen it. He had seen a piece of the man and assumed it for the whole.

Stay on the streets of this town And they'll be carvin' you up alright They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

This blew all of his preconceived notions out of the water. Steve was singing like his goddamn heart was breaking and no one in the world understood him. It was a masterpiece and Eddie was floored. Absolutely floored. He had heard Dancing in the Dark a million times. But Steve… The way he sang it gave the words such a deeper meaning. It was beautiful and haunting and pained. It changed everything about the song… and everything he thought he knew about Steve Harrington.

You can't start a fire Worryin' about your little world fallin' apart This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

He held the last note, beautifully pitched, before he let it go. The room was silent, everyone as awestruck as Eddie. After a pregnant pause everyone erupted into cheers and whistles and Steve dropped his head as a blush starting creeping over his cheekbones – his hair falling over his face. Adorable.

Oh. Oh no.

No. No. No.

He did not just think that.

Appreciative eyes followed Steve as he made his way back to their table and Eddie bristled. He wanted to growl and bare his teeth at them all.

“You have the voice of an angel, my dude,” Argyle said.

“Thanks man,” Steve said as he sat back down.

Robin immediately attacked him, shoving him and screaming, “what the hell was that?”

“You wanted me to sing! So, I sang!” he yelled back.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Steve! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve shrugged. “Never came up, I guess.”

“Never came up!? Neve came up?” Robin’s voice kept increasing in volume and incredulity. Eddie was right there with her. “I am betrayed! Betrayed, Steve!”

Steve rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “Calm down, Buckley. It was just a song.”

“It wasn’t just a song though, was it?” Nancy asked quietly.

Steve tensed up and ducked his head but not before Eddie saw something dark move through his eyes. He wanted to ask if Steve was okay, wanted to drag him somewhere quiet where he could talk to him and ask him questions and find out what was behind his eyes – what was behind that song. Eddie wanted to split his skull open and peer inside and learn everything there was to know about Steve Harrington. He couldn’t take his eyes off him, was begging desperately in his head for Steve to look up, to look at him, too.

Who are you, Steve Harrington?

Eddie’s mind itched at the unexpected puzzle.

Part 2

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #Steve Harrington can sing #steve x eddie #robin buckley

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wonijinjin · 6 months

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seventeen’s hiphop unit when their s/o falls asleep on them

author’s note: was feeling tired, wrote it quickly hehe. let me know if you guys want the other unit versions aswell! the vocal unit version of the fic is available here.

synopsis: what the title says

word count: 0.7k | genre: pure fluffiest fluff | pairings: hiphop unit x gn! reader | warnings: mention of food in wonwoo’s

you were laying in bed with cheol, pillowtalk being the routine of most of your nights, just casually discussing how you spent your day. “then i had to scold mingyu because he wasn’t listening and we couldn’t make progress regarding the lyrics.” he explained, voice low and quiet, waiting for your usual giggles about his members being silly as always, but silence was your only reply. he looked down at you on his chest, seeing your eyes closed, mouth slightly open, a bit of drool coming out of it, right onto his shirt. “seriously? man, my shirt is gonna get soaked.” he sulked jokingly, knowing fully well you couldn’t hear him, otherwise it would’ve earned a betrayed whine from you. “you are lucky you’re cute, i will let it slide this time.” he giggled while trying his best to keep his voice down as much a possible. he rubbed your back while looking head over heels at you, easing you to dreamland even more so, whispering. “good night my love, see you in the morning. i love you.”

wonwoo knew you were tired the moment he saw you when he arrived at home, so he figured that it would be a matter of time when you were gonna stop fighting sleep and let your eyelids get heavy. he was editing the photos he took on his walk earlier, you snuggled up into his side, watching him do his magic in different editing softvers on his laptop. “these pictures are so pretty wonwoo.” you said sleepily. he smiled softly while looking into your eyes. “thank you sweetheart, but you are way prettier.” his cheesy line normally would’ve made you burst out laughing, but as he expected you were already half asleep, eyes closing for longer amounts of time every minute. a moment later he sensed how your head felt heavier on his torso; he kissed your forehead and patted the crown of your hair, smiling sheepishly to himself seeing you rest at last. “my sweet baby.” he said while shutting his laptop down, holding you closer to him.

“wow, the special effects are amazing!” you commented to which mingyu hummed in agreement. you and mingyu were watching a movie, your head in his lap. you were invested in the plot, but it was a bit late in the evening. in fact it was so late that mingyu had actually kind of dozed off for a few minutes, resting his eyes after hours of work with woozi in his studio, the screen’s hue taking a turn on his optic nerves. when he opened his eyes he did not expect to find you asleep, especially since you chose the movie; it was one of your favourite director’s new films. he took a moment to just stare at your face shamelessly, feeling like he was falling in love all over again; your cheeks were squished into his thigh, nose scrunching up from time to time thanks to a few strands of hair tickling it. you were just so adorable in his eyes. he brushed the hair out of your face, stroking your cheeks gently. “i am so lucky to have you. i will always protect you, my darling.” he muttered, draping a blanket that was resting on the couch next to him over your slumbering form.

you were in the practice room with vernon since he had to work overtime with their newest comeback approaching, you offering to stay until the end so the two of you could go home together. he knew you were exhausted from all the exams you had to take, and even tried to talk you out of staying, but you insisted, getting into a comfortable position on the floor, head resting against the wall. he sat down next to you, drinking a bottle of water while you put your head on his shoulder. “i should’ve urged you to go home. look at you, so tired and in an uncomfortable room!” he whined, feeling extremely guilty about the situation. you didn’t reply to which he raised his head a little, upon doing so seeing your relaxed face, soft snores and breaths escaping your mouth. he slowly lowered your head into his lap, but not before putting his hoodie on it, making up for the lack of a soft pillow. “i should take a break anyways. sweet dreams, babe.” he smiled, gently kissing your lips.

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simpforrooster · 9 months

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heard it all.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: reader vents to mav and penny about her feelings for a certain mustached fighter pilot. a/n: my take on a request from @kpopgirlbtssvt. i latched on to one part of the request and took off. i hope you still like it!

"What's going on in that head of yours?" the low voice of Maverick pulls you from your thoughts.

"Hmm, I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, continuing on without another thought.

"You've been wiping down that same spot of the bar for ten minutes."

Maverick and Penny, your boss, exchange a knowing glance. You look at the rag in the hand as if seeing it for the first time.

"I think it's plenty clean, y/n," Penny comments, winking at Mav.

Placing a hand on your hip, you stare the two of them down. "What are you two silently saying to one another?"

Penny shrugs a shoulder. "Oh nothing." You can see it in her eyes though. She knows exactly what has your brain all a-mush.

More like who.

Bradley Bradshaw.

The Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

The hot Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

He captured your heart the first day you met him. Sure, his looks were what drew you to him initially. But he was so nice. Like green flags all around.

You shake your head at the two people who have become a pseudo family to you. Tossing the rag onto the counter, a sigh escapes your mouth.

"Y'all just give it up. We're just friends." Your voice breaks on the word friends, and your eyes squeeze shut to hide your embarrassment.

"Come on," Penny starts.

Holding up a hand, you stop her. "Penny, please. It already hurts enough. He's the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met."

Your chest heaves as you breath through your emotions.

"I have never met another man like him. He makes me feel seen. He makes me feel beautiful."

Maverick makes a move like he is going to say something, but Penny lays a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"And as if the silly little age difference isn't enough, he only sees me like a sister." A tear falls along your cheek, surprising you. Of course, you've grieved the non-relationship before. It isn't out of the norm to sob into your wine glass with Phoenix.

It's the first time you've ever cried in front of Penny and Mav.

The sound of a clearing throat has your spinning around.

Rooster looks at you, his brows knit together. You can't read the look on his face, but it can't be good. It tells you everything you need to know.

He heard it all.

And he doesn't feel the same.

Reaching up to sloppily wipe your tears, you tried to step around him, mumbling something so incoherent you can't decipher the words.

Rooster's strong arms reach out and stop you in your tracks.

"I can promise you I do not see you as a sister," he says, his voice low.

Not that you try, but words refuse to come out your mouth. How could they? The way he's staring at you has your heart beating in overdrive.

"Did you really mean all that?" he asks. His eyes roam over your face, searching for something. It takes you a second to realize he looks a little scared.

Scared of being rejected.

Bradley doesn't like you back. There's no way. He's had plenty of opportunities to make a move and hasn't.

He takes one step closer to you, the soles of your shoes meeting.

"Of course, Bradley." The sentence comes out barely a whisper, but he heard it. His hand snakes around your neck and settles into your hair. "Why wouldn't I be madly in love with you?"

A delicious groan escapes from his mouth before he closes the space between you. His lips meet yours and suddenly the Earth moves beneath your feet as the planets snap into alignment.

Bradley's lips are finally on yours, and it feels every bit as right as you imagined.

He pulls back so his mouth is feather light against yours. "Sweetheart, I am wildly in love with you." The words fall on your ears in soft whispers. Your eyes fall closed to relish in the way all this feels.

Bradley brings his mouth back to yours, pulling you tight against him. Your height difference has never been more apparant that right this second.

"Okay, okay, get a room," Maverick calls, followed by a, "Oof," as Penny's arm comes into contact with his solid stomach.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this one! i've been struggling with a little bit of writer's block.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #bradley x reader

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chrollohearttags · 9 months

Text

writing silly prompts with my OTP so you don’t have to • part one

content warning: exactly as it says, voyeurism, exhibitionism, reverse cowgirl, squirting

📝: I cannot explain this even if I wanted to. Sometimes, I have a lightbulb in my head, constantly flickering and other times, it’s nothing more than wind and baked beans up here so I need help jogging my brain muscles and reviving my creative spark. Don’t get me wrong, I love you guys’ asks and I’ll get to them, as well as the commissions, I swear but I need to get my juices flowing again 🫶🏾

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Ahh! Shit…mmphm. Gonna make me come..”

“Go ahead, princess. Nut on this dick..better keep quiet though. You don’t want us to get caught..”

another peaceful Sunday stroll down South Beach’s Design District turned to a rather eventful outing. Of course, that was nothing out of the ordinary for the infamous couple. It wasn’t rare for the two of you to spend your very limited free time enjoying relaxing walks through the various shops in the heart of downtown..where you may have frequented your favorite stores and restaurants as a bit of routine in your very chaotic and ever changing schedules. It was the one constant that you could bet on in your hectic lives. However..as soothing as the mundane was sometimes…you both still craved that thrill. The excitement that came with doing something you had no business. That rush only grew tenfold when you considered the fact that you weren’t exactly inconspicuous..everyone in Miami and the world at this point knew EJ the Don and (y/n) (l/n). Everyone was looking for an excuse to photograph you two. So it was insane that you were so casually perched atop your man’s dick at a popular lounge on Ocean Drive; enjoying some semblance of privacy as you had rented out the rooftop area for yourselves but even so, if caught, you’d find yourselves front page on somebody’s blog. Right now, you just couldn’t be vexed to give a fuck. Instead…

“Fuck! I don’t care who sees, I just wanna keep—“

your words trailed off into a high pitched yelp as that tip poked the inner corner of your sensitive core. Being fucked up into like a jackhammer into concrete. A tattooed hand on your clothed tummy and inked fingers stroking your clit. All of this because you just had to wear..it. A regular, run of the mill sundress that you had probably gotten as part of PR from Fashion Nova or Shein a year ago and just decided to throw it on to combat this horrendous heat. And yet, it was getting your pussy pounded! Strutting around without so much as a thong on underneath, just in case the mood struck you. Of course, it didn’t take long for your husband to follow suit when saw the fat of that ass swaying from behind the clingy material and watched you bend over to retrieve something when that hem raised and that plump little cunt became visible..from there, neither of you could contain yourselves. Up and down with your legs propped onto the pool chair you went..rutting your hips in slow circular motions as you performed tricks on that dick. Smacking, wet noises filling the summer air. You were certain some attendee or waiter was lurking in the shadows, possibly jerking off or even filming you two but it didn’t even matter. Your only concern was coming all over him! That deep voice growling in your ear as he held you close to his chest and let you ride out your orgasm. Even shortly after, bending you over again so that he could see that ass moving against him. Shouting off expletives at each other..

“Give it to me! Fuck this pussy, daddy. Right there!..”

“Hold still, baby..gonna nut all in this shit!—“

before he could do so, you were already reaching a climatic high..clamping down on his shaft before springing up and spraying him with those sweet, divine juices. Groping one of your tits, Eren would cackle as he watched you come undone for him. Squirming all over the place with uncontrollable trembling from that powerful peak. You were still shooting out tiny streams of that squirt afterwards. Having been fucked so roughly with such impact but of course, it couldn’t be helped..

“Sorry, princess. You know what happens when you wear that shit around me. Can’t help myself..”

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babyleostuff · 7 months

Text

roses and dahlias | choi seungcheol

summary | [requested by: @lifeisnotajuunice] the reader being a florist and friends with dk, so one day he brings the whole team to meet reader at their shop and scoups is instantly drawn in by them

genre | fluff

pairing | idol!seungcheol x florist!reader

word count | 2.2k

author's note | while writing this i've realized how little i know about flowers (i literally have no idea how half of these flowers are called in my native language)

Taking a last look at the bouquet you were holding, you hummed in approval, weaving in some final pieces of baby breath to add a soft touch that would stand out in comparison to the crimson red roses and gerbera daisies. “Whoever this bouquet is meant for must be a very lucky person,” you thought, gently putting the flowers in a vase and placing it next to the eight others that were supposed to be picked up in the afternoon.

“They are for your friend, right?” Nodding at your colleague, you wiped your hands on the apron you got from said friend, looking one last time at the bouquet, which now looked even prettier as it stood on the sunlit windowsill. “They are having some sort of party for the whole team, and they ordered nine compositions for the staff,” you explained, looking over at your co-worker.

“They look great, I’m sure they’ll love it.”

“To be honest, I don’t think they know much about flowers, so anything will be good for them,” you laughed, remembering how Seokmin gave you peonies thinking they were roses. You spent the next ten minutes explaining the differences between those two, surely boring your best friend to death.

In his defence, they are kind of similar.

“Will he pick up all of this by himself?”

“Oh, no, he and some of his bandmates are coming later in the afternoon,” you said, nervously chewing on your bottom lip. The fact that most of them would be coming over in a couple of hours, made you feel a lot more anxious than it should.

You and Seokmin have known each other for so many years now, yet you’ve never met all of his friends properly. But there was one specific person that you were the most nervous to meet.

Choi Seungcheol.

You always brushed it off as a silly little crush on a guy you’ve never even met, because no matter how delusional his fancams made you, that was the reality. The biggest interaction you’ve had was liking his Instagram photo, which you immediately regretted, and it’s not like he would pay much attention to you anyways. Still, you could feel your chest tighten at the thought of him actually meeting him.

The rest of the day was busy as always. You helped the customers with picking flowers, making sure to put your heart into every bouquet you made. You’ve always wondered what history would each of these bouquets hold after leaving your shop - because to you, it was merely a job to put together a beautiful piece, but for the receiving person, the flowers meant so much more than that.

Soon, the sun was setting, and people were rushing home to their loved ones, streets busy and loud. You proudly looked at the final order you put together, rolling your shoulders, hoping it would release some tension that accumulated throughout the day.

“We’re here,” suddenly a loud voice pulled you out of your thoughts, startling you a bit in the process. You quickly put away all of the sharp tools that could harm you by accident. “And who would that be?” you joked, not bothered to check who's just entered.

Two strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, and your back met a familiar chest.

“You weren’t at the concert last week,” Seokmin pouted, when you turned around to face him. “Well, I have my responsibilities you know,” you laughed at his disappointed expression. “Besides, I wasn’t able to buy the tickets.”

“You know you could’ve just called me,” he said, realising you from the hug, “I know, I know.”

That’s when you noticed a group of other people watching you. And not just any people.

“Right, I don’t think you’ve properly met before,” Seokmin said, putting an arm around your shoulder. “These are the only ones that bothered to help me, so they’re the best,” he said proudly, looking at his friends.

“Don’t let Soonyoung hear this, or he’ll get mad,” said Seungkwan, you believed. You also recognised the tallest, and the one with glasses next to him - Mingyu and Wonwoo. “And that’s Joshua, Chan and Seungcheol,” your friend pointed at the blond man standing furthest away from you.

You waved your hand at them awkwardly, clutching the cloth you were cleaning with tightly in your hand. They all seemed extremely nice, nothing but smiles on their faces, yet it was quite underwhelming meeting them all at once.

And it wasn’t even the whole band.

As your gaze drifted back to Seungcheol, the realisation that he was actually real hit you slowly, like - he really was standing right in front of you. And he was as perfect as a person could be.

“Don’t worry, we’ll just grab the flowers and leave,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bouquets. “Oh,” you managed to get out, trying not to sound disappointed, because of course, why would they stay any longer than needed. They were here only for the flowers.

You pointed at the windowsill where all of the vases were.

“You did them all by yourself?” Mingyu asked, his eyes wide with interest. “Yes, it’s all me,” you smiled at his fascinated gaze. It always made you feel so appreciated whenever people reacted that way at your work. It only assured you that you were great at what you were doing.

“Can I take a picture of them?” you nodded, giggling at how excited he seemed. “We’ll be here forever if he starts taking photos,” Wonwoo sighed, sliding his glasses further up his nose.

“But it really is a nice place,” Joshua said, patting Wonwoo on the shoulder. “Do you mind if we take some pictures?” he asked. Honestly speaking, even if you wanted to say “no”, you wouldn’t be able to. He looked so genuinely polite and nice.

You went back behind the counter to give the boys some freedom, yet your gaze couldn’t help but wonder toward Seungcheol. He was posing in front of a bunch of tulips and orchids, his blond hair standing out amongst the violet and burgundy flowers, making him look almost ethereal, as the setting sun was illuminating his face.

Seriously, you had to stop ogling him, even though you were sure he’d already noticed how you were staring at him. You caught him looking at you a couple of times in the span of the last ten minutes, but that couldn’t be true, it was silly for you to even think so.

The boys, on the other hand, looked like they had genuinely a lot of fun, trying to guess the different flowers’ names, and doing the silliest poses in front of the camera.

Busying yourself with cleaning, you searched around for the little stool you always used to reach the higher shelves, but it was nowhere to be seen. It’s almost like it magically disappeared when you needed it the most.

Giving up, you sighed, and got up on your tippy toes to put back all of the equipment. What you didn’t quite think about was the fact that the floral branch cutter was a lot heavier than you expected. You yelped in surprise when it suddenly started slipping out of your hands.

Right as you closed your eyes and prepared yourself to get your foot smashed by it, you felt a warm hand on your lower back, and another one holding the cutter, grabbing your own hand in the process. You slowly opened your eyes, just to be met with Seungcheol’s face.

“Are you okay?” He sounded worried, concern written all over his face. “Yes, I’m okay,” you said, although you were sure it came out more like a whisper. “It was too heavy, and it kind of slipped out.”

God, did you really have to embarrass yourself like that now?

“Are you sure everything is alright?” He asked again, as if he didn’t believe your words. You nodded, letting go of the cutter, as he reached for the shelf with ease. “Let me help you with the rest,” he said, looking at the rest of your stuff that was laying on the countertop.

“Why didn’t you ask for help, you could’ve gotten hurt,” he scolded you, his eyes looking straight into yours.

You didn’t know what to say. Why was he being so protective of you?

“Shut it, he’s just being nice,” you thought, brushing off the warm feeling settling in your stomach.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude before,” he suddenly said, fidgeting with his fingers. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of us. We’re kind of a lot,” he laughed, running a hand through his gorgeous hair.

His eyes had a certain softness to them, looking at you like you were something precious to him. But he looked at his members the same way, so it surely didn’t mean anything.

“It’s okay,” you managed to hold your voice steady. “I’m happy you got to take some photos. It looks like you’re having fun,” you smiled at him, trying to memorise every detail of his face before he’d be gone - his golden brown eyes, the way his long black eyelashes would flutter, and his smile, that made your knees weak.

“We do. It’s nice to do something like this after work,” he said, placing the last cutter on the shelf. “Is there anything else I could help you with?”

You looked around the shop. “No, I think that was it.”

“Okay,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how he sounded almost upset. “I guess I’ll get back to the boys.”

It was impossible for you to know that Seungcheol was freaking out about this even more than you were.

He has seen you a couple of times before, when you were visiting Seokmin in the practice room, or at the backstage after a concert, yet he has never gotten a proper chance to talk to you, and introduce himself.

And Seungcheol was dying to do so.

He didn’t know when this crush started, probably around the time he noticed how his heart would beat a bit faster whenever he’d hear you laugh.

“I just wanted to say that all of the bouquets are amazing,” he said, the moment you came to terms with the fact that this was the end of your conversation. “They’re really beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you. I hope your staff members will love them as well.”

“I’m sure they will,” Seungcheol said. “Who’s this one for?” he asked, pointing at the garden roses and dahlias. “It’s for a wedding.”

“It’s roses and?” “Dahlias. My favourite,” you said, staring at the flowers.

“Coups, could you come here for a second?” All of a sudden, Joshua’s voice echoed through the shop, making you eternally cry, because you knew that if Seunghceol would leave now, you’d never get to talk again.

“Um, I guess I’ll see what he wants,” and with that Seungcheol walked away, leaving you disappointed and frustrated.

“Someone here has got a little crush,” Mingyu approached you right after Seungcheol left, with a smirk on his face and a weirdly suspicious expression. “What do you mean? We were just talking,” you tried to sound as nonchalant as you could, because there is no way he could know about your crush.

“I have never seen him so smiley and giggly with anyone he has just met before. His eyes are basically heart shaped when he looks at you,” he said, leaning on the counter next to you, his smirk only widening. “Besides, he kept looking in your direction all the time.”

A “what?” slipped past your mouth, making Mingyu laugh. “Well, it looks like he’s not the only one who’s a bit in love,” you smacked him on his shoulder. “I’m not in love, and neither is he.”

“Sure. Let’s get back to that when you’re at HYBE visiting your boyfriend,” he winked and walked away, leaving you stunned and speechless.

“Okay guys, let’s wrap this up and get the bouquets which we really came here for,” said Seokmin, grabbing the first vase.

“Remember to keep the tulips in full sun and to put the magnolias in water first thing when you get home,” you said, carefully helping them with each bouquet. “Seokmin, don’t hold them so tightly, you’ll break them,” you scolded your friend.

“How come all of the gym rats came to help with something as delicate as flowers,” Seokmin wondered, shifting his grip on the flowers. “I’m not a gym rat,” Joshua said, earning a swat on the shoulder from Seungcheol.

Saying your final goodbyes, each of the boys left with a bouquet, chatting and evidently more happy than you were. You tried to find Seungcheol amongst them, to take one last look, but he was nowhere to be seen.

You hugged Seokmin as he was the last to leave. “Our leader must really like you,” he whispered to you quickly, running away with a laugh before you could reply.

Closing the shop after them, you returned to the counter only to be met with a single dahlia laying there with a piece of paper next to it.

“The flowers are really pretty, but I think you’re the prettiest.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife

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pupkashi · 5 months

Text

do u guys think kakashi would flirt with you when he’s drunk, cheeks flushed and words slurred as he tries terrible pick up lines on you

“you believe in love at first sight?” he asks, “or should i walk by again?” the incessant giggles that leave his lips having you smiling and shaking your head.

“kashi we’ve been dating for two years,” you smile, watching as he pouts at your statement.

“cant you go along just once!” he whines, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his head nuzzles into your neck, sighing a bit before his eyes flutter shut.

“okay okay,” you sigh, a smile still on your face as you continue, “I’ll go along with it this time, promise.”

his silver bangs cover his eyes slightly, hair messy from whatever competition he had been doing with guy earlier in the night. his eyes light up at your words, walking away from you, only to turn on his heel and walk right back up to you.

“do you have a band-aid? ‘cause i think i just fell for you,” he smiles, giddy as you flush slightly, a grin tugging at your lips as he stares back at you, eyes lingering on your lips a bit longer than usual.

“we’ll i wouldn’t want that scrape to get infected, maybe i should clean it up for you,” you purr, your hand finding it’s way to his t shirt collar as you tug him closer to you, “what do you say we go take care of that, hm?”

kakashi sputters out a half ‘yes’ and a half ‘please,’ cheeks burning and heart jumping out his chest as he watches you get on your tippy toes and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“how was that for playing along,” you tease, laughing as he stumbles back and clears his throat a bit.

“we should get home it’s late and i need to get home,” he stutters out, “home with you,” he mumbles, walking backwards and saying a chaste goodbye to his friends, before rushing back over to you and tugging you out of the bar.

“we’ll aren’t you in a rush to get home” you laugh, his arm is slung over your shoulders under the guise of ‘keeping you warm and close to him,’ but you know better.

you can tell from the stumble in his steps and the way he’s swaying with cold wind he’s much drunker than he was letting on in the bar. giggling at your every word, you’re not sure if the flush of his cheeks is the alcohol, the chilly breeze hitting them, or your shower of compliments.

kakashi doesn’t care how silly he looks, admiring how utterly beautiful you look as you help him up the stairs, how funny you are when you’re re-teaching him how to brush his teeth and helping him into bed after untangling him from his clothes.

the world is spinning when his head finally hits his pillow, sighing happily when he feels the bed dip under your weight, already scooting closer to you.

“can we cuddle?” he whispers, eyes closed as he whispers. he doesn’t see the softest smile on your lips or the shining look of love in your eyes as you stare at the silver haired jonin.

“‘course we can kashi,” you whisper back, pulling him close to you and holding him tightly, kissing his forehead before closing your eyes.

kakashi woke up extremely hungover the next day, head throbbing and sunshine way too bright for his liking.

“good morning lover boy,” you giggle, aspirin in hand alongside a cup of water, “made us some breakfast, hopefully it’ll help with the headache I’m sure you’ve got.”

kakashi doesn’t say much of anything, eyes still half closed as he takes the medicine from you, mumbling what you can only assume is a ‘thank you,’ before he’s laying back down, blanket over his head.

a/n: GODDDD I HAVENT WRITTEN FOR MY LOVER IN SO LONG I MISSED HIM !!! I YEARNED FOR HIM !!!!! he’s so my everything i love him i love him i love him <333

masterlist

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anqelically · 1 year

Note

I’m so sorry if I’m bothering you with a lot of tecchou’s requests but I love him😭if you want, you can write annyone else too. May I request tecchou’s having a nightmare (like s/o being a cheater or dying, whatever you want) and then he wakes up and s/o is hugging him in her sleep (I’m so sorry for my bad English, was hard for me to request this ㅠㅠ)

they have nightmares about you headcanons

featuring...! tecchou suehiro, dazai osamu, ranpo edogawa & akiko yosano

content: no manga spoilers, comfort, dreams with blood and death, a little ooc to me (especially dazai's eww)

navi | bsd masterlist | pt.2

TECCHOU SUEHIRO

he chose to chase after the criminals, and that led you to be killed in his nightmare

tecchou felt strongly about justice, everyone that knew who he was knew that. so on missions, he was always sure to take care of criminals and save civilians

in his nightmare, things were getting rough on a mission. the two of you, the only ones working, were split up from each other. instead of making his way towards you, tecchou hunted down the leader of the crime organization on his own

you should’ve been alright as a fellow hunting dog. but in this situation, you became heavily injured. you were bleeding out for who knows how long when tecchou found you

“it’s okay,” you reassured him as you bled out, “we all make mistakes sometimes. this one… this one just happened to be a bit more troubling, haha.”

when he wakes up from this nightmare, you’re still sleeping peacefully next to him. he’s freighted, so what he does is try to wake you up. you look at him groggily once he does

i definitely think that tecchou’s facial expression would make it obvious that he was scared. his eyes are opened slightly wider and hand has a slight tremble as it holds your arm

“hey, tell me what’s wrong? did you have a nightmare?”

at your touch and voice, tecchou lets out a breath he had been holding in. the events replay in his mind before he tells you what happened

he places a hand over his heart once he realizes that telling you everything has helped him calm down. he knows you were listening to every word, and he appreciates not only that, but the fact that you were still there with him

“don’t leave me, y/n,” tecchou begged.

his slender fingers were intertwined with yours while he pulled them close to his chest. he had never been as scared of losing anyone that much until you came along. he was strong, and so were you, but loving you came with the natural fear of loss.

you promised, “i won’t. i won’t leave you, i swear.”

before you guys go back to sleep, he’ll fall into your arms and will become the little spoon. my bb just wants to be held after experiencing that nightmare :((

OSAMU DAZAI

he lost you in his nightmare

dazai says that he loses things he doesn’t want to lose, which made this dream— nightmare all too real

it was like reliving everything that happened with oda. you were already at death’s door when he arrived and as you walked past that door, his blood-stained arms held you

i don’t see dazai waking up to this nightmare screaming, crying, or even telling you about it. a silly nightmare was all it was, right?

but if he has that same silly nightmare constantly, then i imagine that he’d lose sleep over it. the nightmare was a reminder that you were someone important for him to lose. avoiding it meant sleeping less, or not even sleeping at all

not knowing the details, you were concerned about if he was sleeping well, or sleeping at all. you fall asleep before he does, but he seems to be wide awake when you just get up in the early morning

although he tried to be energetic around you like normal, it wouldn’t be long before he’d laze around as if something was clouding his mind

if you make the decision to confront him, dazai will surely play dumb at first

“work is just so tiring these days! kunikida won’t stop piling work on me~” a lie.

you only figure out he lied once kunikida calls you. since you don’t work at the agency, you’ve only talked with him and a few of the other members a few times

“thank you for calling me, kunikida-san. i appreciate it.”

you found yourself bowing to dazai’s co-worker while you all stood by the main office door. a few of the other members sat at their desks, either watching or minding their own business.

the blond called you to bring dazai, who had been constantly sleepy as of late, home. although he ignored the work he was given, he still managed to act exhausted instead of lazy like he normally would. if he wasn’t going to get anything done during the day, he might as well be sent home to rest.

dazai rubbed the back of his neck, thinking that his partner calling you to the agency was unnecessary. not only that, but his cover had been blown. once you finish talking with kunikida, you take dazai’s hand and walk with him to your shared apartment. it was a quiet walk from there to home.

the moment he’s inside, dazai will flop onto the couch. it takes a little bit of convincing to get him to talk about the repeating nightmare

he thinks he doesn’t need it at first, but comforting him actually affects him greatly. it lets him know that he has your support as he fights his own battles. please have him close so that he can put his hands on your waist and rest his head by the crook of your neck

“you can tell me anything,” you tell him. “there’s a lot about yourself you keep a secret, and that’s okay. i get that there are things you can’t find yourself to share, but this is something you have to. talking about these things are important, dazai. i don’t want you losing sleep over it, m’kay? just talk with me.”

to love and be loved is a curse— but even so, dazai couldn’t resist

RANPO EDOGAWA

you were set up to be killed and he didn’t realize until it was too late in his nightmare

as the greatest detective in the world, nothing seemed unbeatable to ranpo. though there have been some obstacles, there was always a way to win in the end. well, that’s what he thought

his sleeping mind toyed with him by placing you in a situation where there was no way for you to live. fyodor had set up a plan to kill you, a valuable asset to the agency, and it went right under ranpo’s nose

it obviously felt so real to ranpo. so if he wakes up and you aren’t with him in bed, he’s afraid that maybe everything wasn’t a nightmare. he scurries out of bed and to the first place you’d be

“come back to bed.”

sometimes, you’d find yourself wide awake in the middle of the night. it was a problem that settled down when you got together with ranpo, but still happened on a few occasions. whenever it did, you sat on the balcony of your shared apartment and read a book. if the weather was harsh, you’d read in your study.

you were surprised when ranpo suddenly told you to go back to bed with him. his voice was more pleading than you ever heard it to be, leading you to think something was wrong.

you shut the book in your hands, “hey… are you okay?”

i feel like ranpo would play it off as something stupid that he doesn’t even understand, but you know better. the two of you would have to be hugging in bed for him to tell you what happened. as he does, his hands grasp the back of your shirt and he buries his face into your chest

once he finishes, he already knows what you’re going to say. you wouldn’t let yourself fall into fyodor’s hands that easily, so he shouldn’t think about it

“stay in bed from now on,” ranpo suggested. “if you wake up, read your book here.”

“but what if you wake up?”

“doesn’t matter to me.” he’s shy to admit it, but, “you scared me…”

safe to say, ranpo prefers to have you by his side so he can hug you if he was to ever wake up from any nightmares (my bb <3 im so soft for him rn)

AKIKO YOSANO

you died before she could save you in her nightmare

yosano wasn’t sure how she got there, but she had been running for what seemed to be forever. the aching in her feet seemed all too real as she sprinted towards where you were

but once she found you, it was too late. your wounds were deep and your blood was everywhere. she tried to use her ability, but it was futile to even try. the butterflies of her ability appeared, but your heart just wouldn’t beat again

“y/n, please,” the woman cried.

it was happening all over again. that soldier… a kind soul that couldn’t carry the weight of war any longer. he was gone, and yosano tried so desperately to bring him back. now, you were in his situation— gone and never able to return.

she let out a scream, both in that nightmare and in real life. it obviously woke you up, and you were quick to respond by holding her forearms

once reality sets in and she realizes it was only a nightmare, yosano is quick to take a deep breath. as a doctor, she’s had to help calm down patients many times. she knows what to do in order to ease her own mind, yet it was harder to do that she thought

her lips trembled as the breaths she let out were short and shaky. even if you hold her, her fists are clenched. it takes a moment with you rubbing her back to calm her nerves

being with her means you know her past with mori during the war. if you knew all about that, then yosano will definitely be open about the nightmare

she immediately feels a sense of relief after telling you about it, but is still shaken up. yosano will embrace you and try to fall asleep in your arms, even if the image of your dead body keeps on popping up in her mind

“a nightmare,” you reassure her, “it’s just a nightmare. i’m right here, darling.”

note: hi nonnie!! literally request for tecchou all you want (when my requests are open), I'm absolutely here for it!! someone else requested something similar and i planned to put all the requested characters in one post, but it was a lot so I'm splitting it into two <3

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bedsyandco · 6 months

Text

3 times people asked if you and Auston were together + 1 time you finally are?

note: been in a little Auston mood lately and I always enjoy writing my silly little leafs. Feat. teammates JT, Willy, Mitch, Morgan and Matty Marts (miss you king) I don't love this but it's been sitting in my drafts for 2 weeks so...this is a little silly especially the last part

warnings: none? i think…

wc: 1.2k

1 ★ Christmas

It was one of the few days off the guys were given across the season and most of the team were gathering at the Tavares house for christmas dinner. A tradition John started when he became captain.

Auston was watching you from across the room, a smile on his face as he saw you talk to Tessa about something. His smile widened as he watched you throw your head back laughing. When he looked back in front of him, he found 4 pairs of eyes staring him down.

“What?” he asks

“Nothing,” John, Mitch, Willy and Morgan say all at the same time.

“Here we go,” Auston says rolling his eyes

“We didn’t say anything,” Morgan says and Auston gives him a deadpan look.

“Yet” Morgan amends his statement

“Just get it over with,” Auston sighs

“You brought a date,” Morgan starts

“To a team event,” John says

“A woman. A really hot woman.” Willy says grinning a little when Auston glares at him.

“You never bring dates to team gatherings. Ever.” Mitch says

“First of all, it’s not a date, she’s a friend. The same friend I’ve been telling you guys about for months-”

“In all those months you failed to mention that she’s a woman,” Mo points out

“A very hot woman,” Willy says again and lets out a little laugh when Auston punches him on the arm.

“I don’t see why that matters,” Auston mumbles

“Mm you don’t?” Mitch asks looking at him pointedly

“So there’s nothing going on between the two of you?” John asks

“No. Now are we done with the interrogations?” Auston asks and wait for them all to nod before making his way over to you. He wraps his arms around waist from behind as you look out the window admiring the christmas lights.

You shriek when you feel his cold nose press into your neck.

“You little rat, don’t do that!” you say turning around and looping your arms around his neck.

“What you just call me? A rat? Careful, or you’re walking home tonight in the cold.” he says, pinching your waist and you laugh.

“You would never let me walk home alone…would you?” you ask pouting slightly when he jokingly takes a few seconds to think about it.

“No, of course not. I would just be punishing myself since I’d be worried sick about you the entire time.” he says and you smile, resting your cheek against his chest.

“Let’s go eat, I’m starving,” Auston says, squeezing your hip and you laugh.

“When are you not?”

Throughout dinner Auston has a hand on your thigh, tracing patterns lazily, and keeps his gaze on you, choosing to ignore the piercing stares of his teammates.

2 ★ Playoffs

“Auston, wait up, I’ve got something for you.” JT says as the guys all walk to the parking lot after practice.

Auston grimaces when John hands him the jacket, knowing he did it now so that Mitch would see it.

“Is that a…no way.” Mitch says, grabbing the jacket out of Auston’s grip and holding it out in front of him to examine the back. “Is this for who I think it is?”

“Your mom?” Auston asks immaturely and Mitch glares at him.

“The mom jokes are never funny.” Mitch replies and John shakes his head at them, saying goodbye and getting in his car, leaving Auston there to deal with Mitch on his own.

“She gets a jacket huh? What’s next a key to your apartment?” Mitch asks teasingly and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline when Auston doesn’t reply, simply snatching the jacket back and putting it on the passenger seat of his car.

“Oh my God. She already has a key, doesn’t she? Does she have a drawer?” Mitch asks and Auston sighs knowing Mitch wasn’t going to let him go home until he had the answers he was looking for.

“Yes she has a key. And yes she has a drawer, but it’s not like that! Sometimes she comes over and it’s way too late to drive back to her place, so she stays the night and then she has to go to work the next day and she needs something to wear- You know what it doesn’t matter, you’re just going to make it something it isn’t anyway.” Auston says resigned

“Something it isn’t? She has a WAG jacket and a key and drawer in your apartment. Pretty sure it is what I think it is. Why are you so against it anyway, do you not feel anything for her?” Mitch asks, tone serious. Everyone could see that there was intense chemistry between you and Auston, and Mitch knew him. He wouldn’t give a key to just anyone.

“I don’t have time for a relationship right now and we really are just good friends,” Auston claims, hoping Mitch will drop the subject.

Sensing Auston is done with the conversation, Mitch tries to get one last word in before he leaves.

“So uh, when do I get a drawer and key to your apartment? We're friends…”

3 ★ Mitch's wedding

Mitch was standing next to Matt and despite it being his wedding it felt as if at this very moment all eyes were on the two people on the dance floor. You and Auston. It was almost as if people were in a trance, not able to look away as Auston bends down to whisper something in your ear.

“I’m glad he finally has someone,” Matt says

“Oh they’re not together,” Mitch replies and laughs when Matt’s jaw nearly drops

“There’s no way,” Matt says turning his gaze back to the dance floor just as you rest your head on Auston’s chest and his hands slip dangerously low on your back, resting just above your ass.

Matt doesn’t buy it that there’s nothing going on between you and Auston. Having experienced it himself, he knows what that type of chemistry, intimacy and feelings look like.

“People are staring,” you mumble into Auston’s chest and he looks around the room. He was so caught up on you he didn’t even notice that there was barely anyone else on the dance floor, a lot eyes on the two of you.

“What can I say, we put on a good show,” Auston says and you scoff.

“It’s you they’re looking at,” you reply and Auston shakes his head.

“Trust me baby. No one is looking twice at me when you’re standing next to me in that dress. You look stunning,” he says, and your cheeks flush as his eyes run down from your eyes, to your breasts, down to your legs and all the way back up.

“Aus?” you whisper and the way you look at him nearly knocks the breath right out of his lungs because he knows what you’re about to say.

“I know. You don’t need to say it. I feel the same way,” he says and pulls you closer again, kissing your temple and making eye contact with Mitch and Matt across the room, both of them laughing when Auston discreetly flips them of behind your back.

+1 ★

liked by mitchmarner, morganreilly and others.

austonmatthews: happy birthday to the best friend I could ask for. so blessed to have you in my life. thank you for everything you do for me. I love you❤️

view all comments

mitchmarner: feel so betrayed that you called her your best friend. I see how it is.

willynylander: wait until you find out that they've been dating for almost 2 months and he didn't tell you

mattymarts: no way they're finally dating?

mitchmarner: 2 MONTHS?

mitchmarner: you can stay in Arizona. that's where liars belong.

morganreilly: if he stays in AZ who's gonna get you all those points?

mitchmarner: actually come back so I can yell at you

yourusername: love you🩷

sydmartin: happy birthday love! 😚

username22: there's so much going on in this comment section I think we're completely skipping over the fact that Auston has a gf??

leafsfan3416: mitch's comments😭💀

user96: they're so cute

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📂 bedsyandco works!#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📜 cam's fics #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews fic #auston matthews fanfic #auston matthews x y/n #hockey blurb #nhl blurb #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction

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hotluncheddie · 2 months

Text

Wherever you go, that’s where I am.

lovely @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx mentioned writing some more mid 20s, slightly softer body steve <3 so here is: Five times Eddie loves Steve’s body and one time Steve loves Eddie’s

wc: 3.5k | cw: none | rated: M | tags: established relationship, body worship, feral pining goblin eddie munson, chubby steve harrington, fluff, they're in love (so so so in love)

ao3

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Eddie leaps back into the bed, mattress bouncing. He’s been hit with the post coital zoomies, which unfortunately go against Steve’s post nut ritual of passing the fuck out.

But Eddie doesn’t mind. Not when Steve looks so soft, all curled up, laying on his side.

Eddie cleans up, Steve teeters on the verge of sleep until Eddie’s finished and spoons him. It’s foolproof.

He nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder, kissing over the skin and down his back. He traces over the scars at Steve’s hip, just like his own. It still makes Eddie shiver when he thinks about it sometimes, him and his boyfriend, connected like that.

Eddie nuzzled in more and Steve lets out a sleepy groan. He’s so cute when he gets fucked boneless. Eddie would know, he’s the one that gets to do the fucking.

Letting his hands roam further Eddie sneaks around to Steve’s stomach, stroking the soft hairs of his happy trail and letting his fingers press into the slight pudge that sits there now. It feels nice, like his Steve, relaxed and happy and safe.

‘I like this’ Eddie says, giving the soft skin a squeeze.

Steve grunts. ‘Wha?’ Eddie thinks he says, Steve’s face is smushed into the pillow.

Eddie smiles, kisses his shoulder. ‘This.’ Eddie squeezes again, splaying his whole hand over it, pressing his fingers into the warm skin slightly.

Steve just grunts again, turns his head to lay on the pillow properly. ‘I’ll go for a run tomorrow.’ He says, voice still rough with impending sleep.

‘What?’ Eddie asks, because, huh? ‘Steve, I just said I like it.’ and Eddie scoots closer, tries to get a look at Steve’s face over his shoulder.

He seems to be puzzling something out in his head, eyebrows slightly furrowed over his closed eyelids. ‘Oh.’ He says softly. ‘Kay.’ And he shimmies back into Eddie more, face smoothing out.

Eddie squeezes him, tucking him up into his chest. ‘Yeah oh.’ He murmurs, kissing between Steve’s shoulder blades. ‘Silly.’ He adds fondly. Silly guy, how could he think Eddie sees him as anything other than the breathtaking, heavenly angel that he is?

Steve just grunts again, resting his hand over Eddie’s on his stomach and falling dead asleep. His soft snores filling the room.

Eddie resists the urge to bite his shoulder. Instead curling around him more and holding him as close as possible. Maybe they should talk about this at some point, why his mind went where it did.

Not right now though. right now Eddie just lets himself drift off, lulled by the steady breathing of his most favourite person.

Eddie is going to erect an alter. And build a shrine. And kneel before it to give thanks.

And it will all be dedicated to one, Bruce Springsteen.

Eddie will never ever, cross his heart, ever complain about Steve playing ‘Born in the USA’ multiple times in a row. He’ll even put it at the top of his all time album lists. He’ll do it. He will.

Because that album cover, that guy, those songs, inspired his Steve to look like that.

And Eddie has never been a winner. But he hit the fucking jackpot today. Every day. All the days Steve will still let Eddie have him.

The band had taken a trip into Chicago for some very exiting meetings. With Steve, angel that he is, offering to chauffeur so none of them would be too tired, and so they only had to spring for a hotel for one night instead of two.

During said meeting Steve had been entertaining himself. The latest that Eddie got out of had been the longest and most exiting, so he’s happy.

He’s maybe even happier though that Steve found such a productive way to entertain himself.

Because Eddie too, is entertained.

He’s waiting at Steve’s car, leaning against the front bumbler. And Steve, blessed, beautiful, jock that he is, had found the batting cages.

Eddie’s going to write a song about blue jeans. He’s going to send Brucy a letter of thanks for causing Steve to cut the sleeves off his old grey crew neck. He’s going to need to get his mouth on Steve’s dick ASAP if he intends on walking over with his baseball bat over his shoulder the way it is, hips swaying, smug little smirk on his face. Maybe Eddie just needs a lobotomy, it’s all a little too much.

Steve walks right past him, tapping him under the chin as he goes.

Eddie’s mouth was open, respectfully.

Then he hears the boot click open, and Eddie quickly scampers around to the back of the car.

Just in time to watch Steve bend over, putting the bat back, ass round and thick and filling up his jeans oh, so nicely.

Eddie might have to write a whole album about blue jeans actually. Especially these new ones, a size or so bigger since high school, more room to let the full force of Steve show to the world.

It’s just, there’s a certain level more bounce to it all now, and it makes Eddie kind of insane.

And, oh, yep, Steve’s arching his back, okay. He wants Eddie to die, yep, like, actually die, for real.

He’s not even really keeping up the rouse of pretending to be doing something. He’s just bent over with his back arched and his ass sticking out, shirt lifted just enough for Eddie to see the base of his spine.

He’s doing it knowing Eddie’s looking. Knowing they’re in public. Knowing Eddie’s looking but they’re in public so Eddie can’t do anything.

Menace. Brat. Evil. Evil. Evil.

‘Boys are at the diner down the street. Said we’d meet them there.’ Eddie says, monotone, rough and with herculean effort. They need to go. He can’t do any of the many things he wants to to Steve right now. So they should go, for Eddie’s heart and soul and sanity’s sake.

Eddie sighs, he really could look at this scene all day, but that would waste time, valuable, Steve and Eddie alone in the privacy of a room time. Which is sacred.

‘We’ll be home by tonight you know?’ Steve says, leaning on the now closed boot. He’s taking pity on Eddie but he still looks a little smug, which is annoyingly, all, also hot. ‘C’mon, I’ll keep my hand on your thigh on the drive to the diner, the way you like.’ Steve murmurs, coming up behind Eddie and pushing him lightly, steering him towards the car.

‘Home by tonight.’ Eddie parrots, his life line. He’ll be home by tonight, with Steve. Alone with just Steve, and he can do some of the many many things, whatever Steve will let him, whatever Steve wants.

‘You come here often?’ Steve asks, grin loose and sloppy, eyes lidded. One arm resting on the doorframe next to Eddie’s head. Steve’s staring at his lips.

Eddie smiles at him, tucks a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear. Cradling his cheek Eddie shakes Steves head slightly. ‘I do baby. I live here.’ And Steve giggles, tucks his head into Eddie’s neck, like this is the best news in the world.

They’ve just got in from the bar, Steve crowding into Eddie’s space as soon as he got the door locked. Robin found a girl, away for the night. Steve had a couple more than normal to drink.

Eddie can’t help but laugh along with him, kissing the side of his head and resting his hands on his hips to start walking them backwards towards their room. ‘C’mon big boy.’ He says, just to make Steve giggle more.

Steve lifts his head back up, smile still big and loose, eyes still lidded. ‘Dance with me?’ He asks, like Eddie can’t tell he’s twenty minutes away for being passed out in bed, his fruity drinks always making him crash eventually.

But Eddie can’t really say no to Steve, especially not when he’s like this, care free and blinding. When he’s beautifully alive.

Eddie takes a step back, takes Steve’s hand and twirls him. Steve stumbles slightly, laughing again.

With his arm up Eddie can see some of his soft hip and belly as his t-shirt lifts, can see that his jeans are unbuttoned. Which is not surprising since they’re practically painted on. Steve explained that he likes feeling Eddie up against him when they dance, likes the way Eddie’s eyes sharpen if someone looks a little too long. And oh, people look, it’s not just Eddie who notices how those jeans fit, how wonderful Steve always looks.

But Eddie’s the only one who gets to see Steve like this. Home at the end of the night. When Steve needs that extra room, when he lets his soft parts breathe a little better. When he relaxes fully.

That’s just for Eddie. And it’s the best part.

Eddie twirls Steve again and lets him fall back into his chest. Giggles dying out slowly and breath coming deeper and slower. Steve hums, squeezing Eddie’s middle and breathing in the skin behind his ear. Steve leaves kisses down Eddie’s neck, a little wet, making Eddie shiver. Steve hums and does it again. ‘Love you.’ He whispers, holding Eddie close.

Eddie squeezes back, his heart bursting. ‘Love you too baby.’ He says into Steve’s hair, into his bones, into all his soft wonderful edges. ‘Let me take my love to bed now, hm?’ He asks, dipping his hands into Steve’s back pockets, squeezing just to feel Steve tense and then relax against him.

Steve nods, still in Eddie’s neck. One last kiss and he’s moving. Pulling Eddie by the hand through to their room. Kicking off his shoes and falling onto the bed with Eddie on top of him. Steve’s eyes already closed, breath already slowing and deepening. Like he knows Eddie will take care of the rest of their clothes, knows Eddie will tuck the blanket up around him, will hold Steve close all night. Knows Eddie will take care of him

Because Eddie will. Always.

‘Looking good Munson.’ Steve says, jogging past Eddie, panting slightly, smacking Eddie on the ass. Making Eddie jolt and almost spill his coffee.

He was leaning against the car door, face hidden in his arms because he’s just had to watch his very hot boyfriend complete his weekly work out at the park. Running, push-ups, the whole horrible lot.

And its ass o’clock in the morning because Eddies vans broke and he needs a ride to work, but he wants his love to have hobbies and be happy and Steve can only get him there if Eddie came along to watch. So, really, Eddie can deal with the early morning but, he’s not sure if his dick can.

Because ass.

Ass, was right.

And hip. And thigh. And bicep. And back.

Steve is chugging his water, sweaty. His shirt is cropped, his shorts are short and he’s wearing a backwards baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face.

He’s even got tube socks pulled up over his hairy calf’s.

He looks like a spread from the magazine Eddie used to keep under his mattress. It was dog eared and kind of, maybe, a little bit.. Sticky.

And Steve knows about the magazine.

Steve knows what he’s doing to Eddie right now.

Eddie glares at him over his largest they own coffee cup. It’s so early and the shirts a little see through. The shorts dig in to the softness at his hips, cut so high Eddie can see the smooth skin of his inner thighs. He watches the muscle and slight chub move when Steve shifts on his feet.

Eddie walks up to him. Knocking his head between Steve’s beautiful, wonderful, hairy, sweaty pecs. Thud thud thud.

Eddie groans.

Why does his boyfriend have to be so stupidly, annoyingly hot right before work?

Eddie wordlessly follows Steve’s lead and gets back in the car. He glares at the amused smile on Steves face, but then Steve checks all around to make sure the park is still blessedly empty and kisses Eddie sweetly on the temple. Eddie sighs, mollified, he can get over it.

But then Steve puts his arm around the back of Eddie’s seat, swivelling to look out the back as he reverses. Eddie’s hit with his body heat and smell, all detergent and cologne mixed with sweat and musk and Steve.

His broad chest right by Eddie’s head, a peak of pink nipple through white cotton, the chain Eddie got him for Christmas dangling into his chest hair. He’s so capable and in control, practical and smart and…

Eddie back at square one. He can’t get over it actually. It’s early and Steve is being a brat dressing like that. Being so hot on purpose. It’s so mean.

‘You wanna stop for breakfast?’ Steve asks, voice light.

‘Yeh.’ Eddie grunts, voice small, hands shoved in his jacket.

‘What d’you want?’ and Eddie can hear the amused smile on Steves face again, his voice a little patronising.

But Eddie doesn’t care. ‘You.’ He whines, resisting the urge to straddle Steve’s thighs and wrap his arms around his middle and squeeze him. He’d be so warm, and sweaty and soft and strong and perfect.

They could just make out! Eddie could probably survive all day if he got a bit of tongue down his throat.

‘Well, I’m getting a breakfast sandwich.’ Steve says, switching to drive and Eddie just whines again, burying his head in his hands.

It’s a routine, Eddie doing this for Steve, to make sure his scars heal properly. They won’t ever fade fully but the ointment helps, the doctor said it would, and Eddie likes doing it. Sitting on the edge of the bed and having Steve stand between his thighs, shirt off before him. Eddie likes taking care of Steve like this. Likes that Steve lets him.

‘You’ve got a new one.’ Eddie says, running the cream over Steve’s skin.

Steve tenses, looks down at himself. ‘What?’ He asks, confused, a little stressed.

Eddie hushes him, leans forward and kisses the skin below his bellybutton lightly, before smearing the cream there too. ‘Shh. Here.’ He prods the stretch mark that travels over the softness that now covers Steve’s hip bone, his fingers pressing into the give.

Steve cranes his neck to look at it, squeezing the skin to inspect it. But he grips so hard, Eddie smacks his hand away gently. ‘Careful.’ He says. Petting over the redness Steve left. ‘That’s my sweetheart you're man handling there, show some respect.’ And he leans back to look up at Steves face.

His cheeks are red and he looks annoyed, brows furrowed and lips pursed in a pout. ‘What is it love?’ Eddie asks, resting his hands on Steve’s sides.

‘S’ugly’ Steve mumbles, moving his arms like he wants to cross them but Eddie shifts a little closer and Steve re routs to place them on Eddie’s shoulders with a sigh.

Eddie kisses his stomach again. Kisses the stretch mark, the scars that travel over his waist. Does the same to the other side. ‘Nah.’ Eddie disagrees softly. ‘You’re beautiful Steve, all your marks are.’ And Eddie kisses his favourite mole, the one that sits below his left pec. ‘But this one’s my new favourite part.’ And he rubs his thumb over the red lightning bold, looks at Steve again. His eyes wide and glassy, his mouth relaxed into the pretties little ‘o’.

‘Shows how much you’ve grown, how much you’ve healed. It’s all yours baby.’ And he watches Steve swallow, nod his head.

Eddie goes back to spreading the ointment over Steve’s skin, taking his time, and when he’s finished he lays Steve down, pushing him into the mattress, breathing him in. Promising over and over that he’s so beautiful, so strong and amazing. That Eddie loves him, always has and always will. Until Steve believes him. Until every inch of skin is covered in kisses and praise. Until he’s writhing and panting in the sheets. Eddie kissing his tears away, their lips meeting, salty and slick.

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other. Eddie almost fully drifted off but not before he feels a final, butterfly light peck on his throat. A little ‘thank you’ whispered into the skin. It’s so quiet he almost misses it. He pulls Steve closer, holds him tighter, and let's sleep take him.

On Sundays Steve makes breakfast. Or brunch, really, because they always sleep in. But breakfast food, late every Sunday morning.

He always wakes up first anyway. So he starts cooking while Eddie gets another hour or so of rest. It’s like he stacks them up, needs them to get him through the week. The extra on Sunday allowing him a hour or two leeway for late night Eddie Time after his shifts. Steve doesn’t mind, lets him sleep.

This week it’s french toast and scrabbled eggs, a little fruit, and, like every morning, coffee.

Steve hears the telltale thud of Eddie stumbling out of bed. Hears his footsteps travel from the bedroom to the bathroom, and finally into their little kitchen. Where he feels sleep warm arms wrap around his middle.

Steve smiles into the pan of eggs, Eddie resting his head between Steve’s shoulder blades and sighing. He always takes a long time to wake up, and he’s cute the whole time doing it.

When he’s had his fill of squeezing Steve, sleepy hands wandering around his torso, head nuzzling against the soft cotton of Steve’s t-shirt, Eddie goes to pore himself coffee. Fills it with milk and sugar before shuffling over the the kitchen table.

He sits in their creaky wooden chairs, huddled around his steaming mug, eyes bleary and hair a messy halo around his head. Eddie blinks his big brown cow eyes so slowly, staring at nothing.

Steve turns off the burners and watches the soft spring light fall over eddies shoulders, leaving patches of yellow over his bare skin. Warming the mottled pinks and reds. A patch of light over his thigh, a golden window on the flannel of his low slung pyjama pants.

his scars have healed well, even with all the grafting and scarring, the doctors managed to do enough to let him survive, let his body become what it is now. he’s stronger, looks healthier than he used to, all the physical therapy and three square meals a day gave him some more definition, more colour in his cheeks. but he’s still wiry, still pale and a little gangly, able to curl up into a ball or spread out and command a whole room.

He has new tattoos too, stretching over scar and skin. Painting him on the outside with all the wonder and creativity he has swirling in his head. They’re so a part of him, such a perfect addition. The pale tones of pink contrasted with patches of inky black.

Steve can’t believe it sometimes. That guy he saw in the lunch halls, the one he met in the upside down. Those awful months of Eddie in the hospital. To get to see him now, have him now, this Eddie Munson. His Eddie.

Steve just.

Steve can’t take it.

He steps over, cradling Eddie’s cheeks between his hands. looks down and his loves face. Awed that he gets to see Eddie like this, before all that energy hits him, before his fingers start tapping and his feet need to move, to run, to jump. Gets to see him soft, and quiet and slow. Gets to see his eyes bright and glassy and teary and tired. Gets to see the hunch of his shoulders around his coffee mug, and the curl of his toes against the linoleum. Gets him at his rockstar and his sniffles, at his post work rant and his pre weekend buzz.

He gets to see all of him. Hard and soft. Dark and light.

It’s magical.

‘I love you.’ Steve says, for the hundredth, thousandth time. Kissing Eddie on the lips for the millionth, trying to infuse him with everything Steve has, all the love, all the awe. Tries to put it all there in the kiss.

When he pulls away Eddie’s sleepy eyes look that little bit brighter, his cheekbones dusted pink. The way they do sometimes when Eddie says Steve gives him “too much attention”. Like Eddie forgets, forgets how much space he fills up in Steve’s brain, his memories, his daydreams. How he can’t look at the sky day or night without being reminded in some way of Eddie. ‘So pretty.’ Steve traces his thumbs over the flush, the tips of Eddie’s ears, fingers trailing over his jaw and scarred neck.

He kisses Eddie’s forehead and goes to plate the eggs, goes to finish their breakfast. Goes just so he can come back, hold Eddie’s hand, watch him wake up.

He hopes to every morning.

For as long as Eddie with let him.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

tagging list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

also just bc i think you might enjoy: @babydollbaron @spectrum-spectre

title from the Maggie Rodger’s song ‘That’s where I am’ (it’s rly good u should listen to it)

#hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #my fic #chubby steve harrington #but only a little #but bigger than in the show #so i’m tagging it #bc it’s important to me #:)#this was fun and gooey to write #i hope it’s funny too lol

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feyascorner · 3 months

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7 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.9k words !!! this chapter took forever but somehow i managed!! thank you so much for your kind words and patience !!! he's kind of a silly guy in the chapter so pls enjoy this peace offering as the calm before a storm

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? Letting him ascend?” Shadowheart asks as you adjust one of the logs in the campfire, watching the other companions organize their tents from afar. You stop at this, turning to face her.

“It’s what he wants,” you mumble. “I won’t stop him if he’s sure this is the right thing to do.”

You’re still getting used to her hair, which’s now as white as a sheet, but you think it looks lovely against the fire. She seems calmer than she did when she was with Shar. At peace, almost. She casts you a sidelong glance. “Can we really trust his judgment of all people? He’s—I mean, well, him.”

“I know it sounds unreasonable," you say letting yourself sit down beside her on her bedroll. “But I want him to make his own decisions. He’s spent too many years having no choice of his own, and I’d be the worst person to take it away from him again.”

“I just,” her voice softens. “Astarion’s a complicated person, and I’m sure you know better than us. It’s because he couldn’t make his own choices for so long that it makes me think he’s lost his capability to make any choices anymore. Good ones, at least.”

“I trust him.”

“Gods knows how.”

You stifle a laugh, and she sips at her wine, eyes still glazing over the camp. There’s a kind of solemnness to them that makes your stomach churn. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, per se,” she shrugs. “I just realize that I owe a debt to you for what you did for me against my lad—I mean, Shar. And I myself almost went down that dark path of becoming a Justiciar if it weren’t for you. At the time, I thought it was the best thing for me too, like Astarion believes ascension to be what will set him free.”

You nod patiently, urging her to continue.

“I only fear he might make the wrong choice if he doesn’t have the right guidance as I did.”

The words feel hesitant on her tongue. And although they make the voice in the back of your head, telling you to convince Astarion otherwise, louder, you ignore it, opting to smile at her softly instead. “Is this you caring about our companions?”

“Heavens, no,” she snorts, but there’s a joking tone behind her voice. “But like I said…I’m indebted to you all. Astarion also aided in my personal affairs with Shar, even if he didn’t have to, and even with his incessant complaining…I suppose this is my way of paying him back.”

Your chest warms. It’s soothing to know that even without you, your other companions have enough care for your lover to offer him bits of advice; in a way, it relieves a bit of weight off your shoulders. Even the companions who claim to detest his presence have grown fond of him over the months, and you’re sure it goes both ways. It helps because even if you’re gone, you know he’ll be okay.

“I never told you formally,” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me or feel indebted. I just did what I could for you.”

“Don’t be so humble. What you’ve done for me—for all of us—is something we’ll cherish for the rest of our lives,” she takes her last swig from her wine. “But from one messed up person to another, please, be careful.”

Your wrist feels sore.

Two days. It’s been two days since the incident at the Blushing Mermaid, and still, your body seems to burn whenever you see his closed door across yours from the hall, and all you can do is rub shamefully at the healing puncture wounds on your wrist. The bandages looping around the skin do a good enough job of hiding them, but you genuinely wish you could just ask Shadowheart to heal them for you because being able to see them does little to help with the constant thoughts of the vampire muddling the clarity of your mind.

But you’d rather not let your companions know what happened between you and the vampire on the dirtied floors of the Blushing Mermaid. You’d likely die of shame for letting him drink from you, even after your mutual agreement to specifically avoid just that. What’s worse is that you expect the worst from Lae’zel, especially after her explicit advice to do the exact opposite of what you chose to do.

You tighten the bandages again.

“Did those yourself, did you?”Alfira snorts, and you almost have half a mind to glare at her if it weren’t for the crumpled sheets of paper surrounding the legs of her chair. The ink on the discarded pages now blends into mush as they lie in the puddles forming around her—an aftermath of the recent rainy weather. You don’t tell her, though. She seems frustrated enough as it is, and you fear she might snap a string of her lute if this prolongs any longer. “How’d you get hurt anyway?”

“It’s a bug bite.”

“A rather massive bug, apparently.”

The corners of your lips quirk downward, and she finally sets her lute aside, careful to avoid the puddles as she props it against the side of her stool to focus on her notepad instead. Though most of its pages have now been torn out, the remaining few have scribbles of song lyrics that even you can’t decipher with how messily the ink splatters across the page. She, however, seems perfectly fine reading its contents aside from her glaringly obvious distaste for the words themselves. You raise your brow. “Can you really read that?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t insult my penmanship.”

You snicker, eyes continuing to scan the sheets of paper that had been abandoned on Dalyria’s desk at the Blushing Mermaid. It’d taken quite some time to take apart the pages plastered on the wall and to organize the mountain of doctor’s notes lying across the lair, but you’d managed to fish out something useful eventually. The journal was one that seemed especially important, filled to the brim with Dalyria’s so-called ‘research.’

But if the past few days have told you anything, it’s that Dalyria is a terrible note-taker.

The pages are filled with shapes. Some are curved, and others just bend and contort into odd figures that you’re sure aren’t supposed to look like letters. Each page studies a different shape on a random part of the page, leaving them scattered and difficult to decipher.

You’re starting to think this is just some odd attempt at art rather than the studies she claims to be performing.

“And? Why are you here if you’re not here to look at those lyrics I gave you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what this journal says,” you sigh, flipping another page you don’t understand. “And if you couldn’t tell, I’m rather busy trying to find the people responsible for murders around the city, so excuse me if I haven’t had the time to glance at your song.”

“I’m plenty busy myself, you know! I just got hired to sing at this fancy party for some celebration. They even said I could dress all nice for it,” she smiles proudly, and you offer her a crooked one of your own. “It’s my first serious gig—so I’m a bit nervous with how large it is…”

“How’d you land something like that before you’ve even played at children’s birthday parties?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone, obviously,” she reasons, scratching something on her pages again. “I’m going with one of my friends. She’s a wonderful violinist, and she managed to squeeze me into the event, which I’m so grateful for…I suppose I’m just a bit worried.”

You look up from Dalyria’s notebook. “Worried? What for?”

“That my fingers will lock up, and I’ll humiliate myself,” she admits sheepishly, tucking a portion of her hair behind her sharp ear. “Lihala used to call me silly for worrying about things that haven’t happened–but I can’t help it. It’s the before-show jitters. Pesky things. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you look to the murky skies overhead, where dark clouds threaten to pour down for at least another few days. A shame, you think. You’ve never seen the Summers of Baldur’s Gate feel so dreary.

It’s fitting, almost, considering the state that the city is in.

The painful sound of quill scratching against paper is all you can hear now as Alfira sighs irritably again, ripping out another sheet of paper.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you finally say.

She blinks up from her notepad. “What is?”

“Being nervous. I’ve done more performances than I can count, and my hands would still get clammy in front of a big crowd,” you laugh to yourself. “But when you see how they watch you as if you’re performing sorcery with your lute, it’s like you were never anxious in the first place. The audience is what makes it bearable.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she smiles fondly as you continue to reminisce in your own memories. “It’s a rather shame we never got to perform together. Not after the last time we played at the Grove–and I don’t even count that occasion with how unstable my voice was…”

“I can watch if you’d like,” you offer. “Your performance, I mean.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement, and she reaches to clasp both your hands, beaming brightly. “Will you? I’m sure if you’re there, it’ll ease my nerves, too!-”

As you shift in your seat to follow your hands, Dalyria’s notebook slips off your lap. The simple splash beneath you tells you all you need to know as your eyes shoot down to where the notebook now lies face down into a puddle, and you don’t even have to lift it to know that its pages are soaked.

But you don’t have to pick it up yourself because Alfira’s carefully holding it in an instant, her face pale as she fans her hand in a fruitless attempt to prevent the damage already done. “Dammit, I’ve done it again! I’m truly sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen! But I’m sure if we just put it in the sunlight for a few days, it’ll–”

You gently take it from her hands, shaking your head. Perhaps it’s because you were just deep into memories you hold dear to your heart, but there isn’t an ounce of panic in your voice. “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this thing anyway.”

“Still…”

The pages stick together in chunks as you flip the journal towards the pages that are at least half dry. You fear they might tear off at the slightest touch, so all you can do is stare at a page you deem to be soaking up the ink from the pages behind it. Alfira groans into her hands, and before you can spare her a glance to remind her it’s alright, you spot something in the middle of the page.

“Holy shit,” you whisper so quietly she doesn’t catch it.

“I’ll grab us a wind scroll. Or maybe that’s too strong? Surely there’s some spell that can dry off books.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done for me, Alfira,” you blurt, already halfway to stuffing the journal into your pack. She blinks up at you with weary eyes, but you quickly clamber off the stool with no time to offer an explanation. “Let me know when the performance is. I’ll be here next week as usual.”

“Don’t you want me to dry off the pages?”

“No,” you shake your head, your heart pounding. “I need to show this to the others.”

She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Still, as you rush toward the stairs leading to the city streets, she calls after you.

“Don’t forget to look at the lyrics!”

“Runes? As in the ones carved into Astarion’s back?”

“I thought they were random blots of ink, but,” you raise the notebook in your hands, and the soaked pages now show the contents of the following sheets, blending to form a larger image. The placement of the shapes were not random at all, and you internally apologize for calling Dalyria a few less-than-kind words in your mind. “They’re not. They’re parts of the runes that Cazador tried to use for the ritual. There are six sets of runes in here, and each one’s slightly altered.”

“But what purpose does that serve?” Shadowheart cocks a brow, eyeing the page questionably with crossed arms. “Cazador’s dead. There’s no ascension to be done.”

“Unfortunately, just because that haunting man is gone doesn’t mean the threat of an ascension is either.” Intrigued but clearly disturbed, Gale takes the notebook and squints at what it holds. “Cazador himself never needed to be the one to execute the ascension.”

The room goes silent, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air that keeps you from moving. You’re not sure how many seconds pass before you hear the figure who’s been awfully quiet the past half an hour mutter something under his breath from the comfy armchair beside the fireplace.

Astarion clicks his tongue, seemingly unfazed. “Ah, I see.”

The fists at your side clench tighter. The bandages feel impossibly tight all of a sudden.

“It’s for the ascension, clearly. There’s no other plausible explanation,” his eyes remain glued to the flickering flames, swirling a chalice of wine in his hand. He doesn’t sip from it, knowing that it tastes of nothing but vinegar on his undead tongue, so why he’s poured himself a glass, you don’t understand. You also can’t be bothered to ask. “Perhaps they plan to enact it. Take a piece of all that power for themselves.”

“But they can’t do the ascension,” Shadowheart frowns, turning to you. “You said there’s only six runes in there. They don’t have the last one to enact the ascension because Astarion’s with us. Cazador’s the only one who could have done it because he’s the only one who knows what each of the runes looks like. Without Astarion’s, they can’t—”

“They wanted him,” you whisper the confession, and you swear your voice nearly cracks. “They wanted Astarion. That’s why they wanted to speak with me.”

All three of your companions whip their heads to you, and you stare down at the ground. Shame burns through you, and you can practically feel the disappointment radiating off them as it dawns on you that you lied to them. You lied to your closest companions for the sake of saving yourself the embarrassment that no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself, your subconscious forces you to care for the bloody vampire sitting beside the fireplace. Despite the many eyes on you, you can only feel one crimson pair that bore into you like the sun beating down on a hot summer’s day.

Even now, he’s your biggest concern, and you hate yourself for it.

“Then it’s not Astarion they need,” Gale says breathlessly. “They need the marks on his back.”

“And you didn’t tell us this, why?” Shadowheart hisses. “You said they just tried to kill you!”

You blurt. “They did! They said they’d stop killing citizens if I just tossed Astarion over to them, but when I said no, they completely flipped and–”

“You declined that deal?” Lae’zel snarls, and you unwillingly flinch at the venom in her tone. “You swore, istik. You swore you wouldn't be foolish if it came down to you or him.”

The words feel like a knife to your throat.

“Well, obviously, it worked out,” you grumble, ignoring how Lae’zel’s eyes are narrowed dangerously. No doubt, she has questions of her own that she’ll demand answers to later. “If I handed him over, they would’ve had the last key to conducting the ascension.”

“You still lied to us,” Shadowheart steps toward you, but Gale quickly clears his throat.

“I know how deceived we all feel, but must we fight? What matters is the spawns can’t conduct the ascension as of now, correct?” he attempts to calm her down, but her scowl only grows deeper. “As disappointed as we all are, we must admit that keeping Astarion here is the right decision.”

“You’re too hasty, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “A vampire’s ascension would mean ridding of all the other spawn wreaking havoc in the city. We mustn’t throw away a chance being offered without considering it.”

Shadowheart is immediately on her feet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t be an idiot–a few thousand spawn is better than a nearly impenetrable being capable of creating even more spawn. That’s asking for just as bad as we are now–maybe even worse.”

They break into a simultaneous debate, one in which two room occupants do not take part. Because even as you try to focus on what the others are saying, all you can feel is the unsettling stare of the spawn in the corner of the room, his hand still swirling the wine. You wonder if his wrist ever gets tired. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare, but you watch him from the corner of your eye as his attention shifts to your wrist.

“Are we even sure this is what they’re planning? Do a few drawings prove that they want to go through with this ritual, again, after what it nearly did to them?” Shadowheart’s attention darts to you. “This ritual would kill them. Why in the hells would all of them agree to do it if it only means one would come out alive?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out in return. The hurt embedded into her expression is so glaringly apparent that it makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably, and all you can do is look away in shame. “...I don’t know.”

Her face hardens. “Do you? Or are you just lying to us again?”

Cheeks flaring, you shake your head. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize before they flit to your bandaged arm and then back to your eyes. She doesn’t miss how you try to move your arm behind you. A miscalculation on your part since your attempt at hiding it makes your secret that much more obvious. “Then what are those for? You’ve had them on since you returned from the Blushing Mermaid, and you refuse to let me heal you myself. Just what did you get injured from?”

The room is so silent you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I–” you stop, wavering. “There was a—”

Shadowheart clenches her jaw. “Don’t lie. Please.”

But still, no words are willing to leave your throat.

Your companions await words from you that do not exist. Like a deer in headlights, you stand numbly, unsure what to do. Fortunately, and also unfortunately, before long, Lae’zel has had enough of waiting, and she begins to march toward you in a way that makes you step away.

“Give me your arm,” she demands. “If you cannot say, then show us.”

You can feel all the blood draining from your face as she draws closer. But even Gale cannot hinder her this time because everyone in the room knows what she’s capable of with that blade attached to her hip, and she’s not against wasting a few potions of healing if she has to barrel her way through. You brace yourself for the inevitable, teeth gritting together.

Just as she reaches for your arm, someone else snatches it away.

“I drank from them,” Astarion says as you bump slightly into his chest, eyes wide at his pale fingers wrapped around your wrist. He yanks the edge of the bandage down with his free hand and lifts it for the others to see. The two puncture wounds, where the skin that surrounds it is darker than the rest, make you feel naked under the eyes of others. It’s too vulnerable. Too mortifying.

Your heart hammers pathetically, and whether it’s from the expressions of your companions or the hand wrapped around the sensitive skin of your wrist, you’re not sure. You hope it’s not the latter.

Gale’s jaw drops. “We agreed that this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.”

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve perished,” the vampire retorts in response, releasing his hold on your arm as it falls back to your side. The place where his hand had been tinges under your skin. “And there weren’t exactly a few boars lying around the damn city for me to feed on.”

You notice he fails to mention there had been more than enough bodies to satiate him, but you keep your mouth shut.

The hurt on Shadowheart’s face is no longer one that throbs your sympathy. Instead, she seems to burn with something you haven’t seen in ages.

Anger.

Her palm flickers with radiant light, and Astarion immediately flinches, hissing as he moves to hide his body behind yours. In your haste, you can’t think of anything to do besides stepping toward her, holding out your hands. Astarion releases a strained laugh from behind you. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not do anything hilarious, shall we?”

“I’ll kill you,” she growls maliciously, the glow of her palm growing brighter. “Like I should have done the second you came back to ruin everything we’ve done without you.”

You cautiously approach her, focus never leaving her eyes despite the danger festering in her hands. “You shouldn’t, Shadowheart.”

She throws daggers in your direction with just her expression, and you can’t deny how helpless you feel. “Killing him would end all of this. If we buried him somewhere, they’d never find the runes. They’d never be able to follow through with the ascension, and we won’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that even though she’s right, you can’t agree with her methods.

“I know he’s—not exactly a friend—but he was once. And I know you considered him one as well,” you insist, inching closer. The hesitance in her motions as you come too close to the radiant light is undeniable. “I don’t want you to bear the guilt of his death.”

Because as much as you’re wrapped up in a world of your own–a world where you fight to hate the man behind you–you know that your companions feel the same way. The sentiments gathered from months of sharing the same camp, months of saving one another from multiple deaths, and months of aiding one another overcome their own pasts don’t just disappear. You know what they shared. Being the most similar amongst your companions, forced under the influence of a power they did not want to be subjected to, you know they considered themselves friends, even if they never voiced it out loud.

You know that deep down, Shadowheart’s hatred for Astarion stems from her own feeling of betrayal when he tried to kill you. When he attempted to harm the only other person who guided her to a path outside of Shar.

“Trust me, I won’t feel guilty,” she finally forces out. “You’re a fool to trust him again.”

“I don’t trust him,” you reassure her, your hands finally reaching hers as they dim and eventually vanish all traces of magic. “But if he’s to die for nearly killing me, I want it to be under my hands. Don’t sully your own for my sake when you’ve just escaped all the bloodshed.”

Shadowheart’s brows soften, but her face turns cold. Thoughts seem to run through her mind like an endless train before she decides that thinking through each one is worth more than Astarion himself is worth. She inhales deeply and nods, allowing you to finally release her hands. She shoots the others one last glance before turning to retreat upstairs.

You’re left in a pitiful silence—one that nobody in the room dares to break.

An entire day is spent with you wallowing in your shame, refusing to get out of bed.

You hope this is just a terrible nightmare, but you know better. If this were a nightmare, you’d already be dead.

You only climb out of your covers when you have to change the bandages on your wrist. It’s a painful process now since you don’t even want to look at the puncture wounds anymore, but it’s better than risking it to get infected. A knock on your door makes you stand from your bed, kicking the bandage rolls under your bed. “It’s open.”

You expect Gale or even Lae’zel, but you’re met with piercing red eyes. You contemplate begging him to leave you alone because looking at him right now only conjures up the guilt that’s been eating away at you for hours now. Instead, you build that wall between the two of you again, your face hardening. “What do you want?”

He’s never come to you willingly before. Not unless you were positively drenched in blood, and he had no choice but to follow his instincts for what he hopes to be a meal other than stale boar blood. Much less approached you in your own room.

Astarion lifts the empty glass bottle in his hand. “A charming welcome, as usual, I see.”

“You just had a full supply yesterday,” you say, brows furrowing. “I checked it myself.”

“Clearly, now I don’t,” he shrugs, and when you shoot him an intense glare, he frowns. “You can’t possibly blame me. I haven’t exerted myself as I did at that dirty tavern since the last time I had that damn parasite swimming around my head. So, unless you decide to offer yourself to me, again…”

You think he’s genuinely lost his mind. “Right now? Seriously? After what just happened yesterday, you want to ask me for blood?”

“Just a suggestion, darling. Otherwise, we always have the other option, as boring as it is.”

Perhaps you should just toss him to Lae’zel and call it a day.

Groaning in exasperation, you march past him, slapping a cloak into his chest. “There’s 15 minutes to sunset.”

He laughs, but it only makes your face turn sour.

The forest isn’t far off from the main square of Rivington. And by the time you reach it, the sun has long gone down, and you watch as Astarion takes off the hood of his cloak, breathing deeply in the moon's bask. And as he glances back at you, you don’t bother trying to walk side by side, remaining on guard and surveying his every move from three steps behind. He comments on it even though you think he doesn’t care for what you do. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“You’re not funny.” He snorts at your deadpan and continues into the deeper parts of the forest.

The entire time, your eyes remained glued to the backs of his heels, palms growing increasingly clammy as you become surrounded by nothing but the soft ambiance of the woods. His steps are as silent as they’ve always been, and it feels like following a ghost into the darkest parts of the forest. It’s becoming hard to see more than a few feet in front of you, and if your training with Lae’zel has taught you anything, you know that you don’t want to be at a disadvantage—especially when the other party is a bloody vampire.

You halt in your tracks. He does, too, turning to shoot you a questioning look. “What is it?”

“It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

You curse his long legs as the forest becomes darker and darker, even as each time you think it can’t possibly get worse than this. You swear his steps become quicker, and a part of you wonders if this is where he attempts to run away and whether you should cast a sleep spell before he succeeds. But the most rational part of you reminds yourself that he’s had plenty of chances to escape. Hells, he could do it even now, considering how much more easily his eyes adjust to the darkness than you.

“Astarion, I swear to the Gods above, if you don’t stop walking so quickly…”

This time, you don’t get an answer.

Suspicions rising, you break into a jog and then into a gradual sprint. Every time you think you finally caught up to him, a branch whips into your face, and you barely manage to swat it away before it manages to cut your skin. You call his name a few times to no avail, and you genuinely begin to ponder if you should’ve brought your scroll for daylight.

Finally, you stumble through a tall berry bush into what you assume to be another branch.

And rather than more darkness, you’re met with a clearing. It’s only a few long strides in width and a couple more in length, but here, it doesn’t seem like nighttime at all. The moon peers down at you in all its glory, and you think this might’ve been Selune’s pocket of the forest if she were here. You blink wide when a speck of light—a firefly—flies barely past your face. And suddenly, you’re surrounded by light rising from the green grass beneath you in fragile wings.

The tightness in your chest dissipates, if only for a moment.

Only once you’ve taken in the vast difference of your surroundings just a few moments prior do you see Astarion pulling off the clasp of his cloak. He tosses it to you, and it lands on your face before you yank it away with a scowl. “You could have just handed it to me–”

“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll return when I’ve finished hunting.”

You gawk at him. “I’m not going to let you just leave.”

“I’ve proven myself plenty,” he scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you would’ve likely perished were I not there at that tavern a few days ago. And I must remind you that I do have quite the memory. If I planned on betraying you, I would’ve done it then—at a more fashionable time.”

You don’t have much of a rebuttal to that.

While you could bring up the dozens of other times he’s made questionable decisions pertaining to his loyalty, the soothing bath under the moon’s gaze seems to calm you down. So, instead of fighting the internal urge to continue your petty quips, you drop the cloak beneath you. He cocks a brow, surely expecting more of a protest, but you just swallow your pride, plopping down on the grass with a huff. “If you don’t return in 30 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“40 minutes,” he tries. “30 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for anything fun.”

You scowl. “20 minutes.”

Astarion smiles wickedly just enough for his fangs to peek beneath his top lip. “Very well. I’ll expect you no later than that.”

And like a predator fading into his natural environment, he vanishes into the darkness.

Time passes slowly when all you can do is pick at pieces of grass. As beautiful as the clearing is, it’s a bit too soothing—enough to make you doze off as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Though you attempt to keep your eyes open, reminding yourself you have a responsibility to uphold, you haven’t had this sense of relaxation in ages. Especially now, in your home with an atmosphere thicker than the butter you use on your bread. It’s almost like a spell as you feel your heavy eyelids droop helplessly.

You pray you don’t dream tonight. Not when you know all you’ll think of is the betrayal you inflicted on your companions.

A rustle of leaves snaps you back awake.

And when you look up, you see two blood-red eyes staring down at you from the branches of the tree opposite of yours.

They look exactly like the spawn in the alleyway, practically a month ago now. The same ones that haunt your nightmares and the same ones that morph into your ex-lover in the ones you despise the most. And while you can’t see their face, you don’t need much more than that to break into action.

Immediately, you’re snatching the cloak and sprinting back into the forest's darkness. You don’t care about the branches flinging themselves at you anymore because you can barely breathe even without worrying about them. Twigs and thin branches flail across your cheeks as you practically barrel through the woods, your legs feeling like they could give up if you were ever to stop running. With only the cloak in one hand and a dagger in the other, you don’t even attempt to fight whoever this person is upfront–you learned your lesson well the last time you tried. So, instead, your boots crunch against whatever plants are being crushed beneath you as you frantically run from the creature chasing you.

The worst part is you can still hear leaves rustling behind you.

Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurts, and yet you cannot stop. You hope the forest itself swallows you whole at this point, especially as you hear the movements getting closer and closer.

Tripping over a particularly large root, you fall through a bush, bracing for impact as you curse everyone you can think of for your luck. But rather than your shoulder crashing into a pile of dirt and twigs, you plant face-first into what feels like…cloth?

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked,” Astarion teases and you instantly tear yourself away, pushing your palms against his chest with wide eyes. And as much as you hate to admit it, a flood of relief hits you. And as much as it shouldn’t, meeting his gaze makes you able to breathe again.

Gods, what is wrong with you?

“There’s something chasing me,” you say hurriedly, pointing in the direction behind you. “I think it’s another spawn, I saw his eyes–”

His face stills when you practically jump at the bushes moving in ways the wind cannot will it to. Your arm flies to push him in front of you in case something were to leap out, and while you’re sure he’d complain dramatically about this gesture on any other occasion, he’s too busy worrying about what lies behind the bush. His hand shoots to what you assume to be that blasted comb he takes everywhere while you grip your knife, and you hear both your breaths hitch when something lunges out of the shrub.

It’s a small, puny squirrel.

Astarion doesn’t even try to stifle the laugh that escapes him as he throws his head back.

“I swear there was something following me!” you hiss, slapping his arm while the squirrel scurries away back to wherever it came from. He doesn’t stop, having little care about how your face flushes with embarrassment, and instead seems to revel in it. The bastard is enjoying this.

You wish you could throw the damn squirrel at his head.

“Oh, yes, I do believe there was,” he’s barely fazed while you continue glaring daggers at him. “I’m impressed you survived an encounter with such a terrifying foe, my dear.”

“It was definitely following me...” your voice trails off, and the bloodlust that had overwhelmed your lungs is fading away, leaving nothing but the sound of Astarion and his annoyingly loud laughter.

He stops when there’s a shrill scream from across the forest. One that wails in what is unmistakenly of excruciating pain.

The two of you slowly turn to one another, and a knowing gleam flashes behind his eyes.

“Darling, the smart decision here would be to leave–”

But you’re already rushing toward whoever this victim is, forcing him to groan loudly and trail after you, snatching up your cloak from the ground in the process. You feel him close behind as you practically fly through the forest, with little care of how exhausted you were just moments before as the screams of pain seem to fuel your determination to lend aid.

Astarion, although displeased, only grumbles as he continues to follow your lead. “Is it necessary to be heroic now of all times? In a dark forest where there’s sure to be animals twice our size?”

You ignore him.

A leaf slaps into your face as you finally reach what’s now been reduced to soft sobs. And you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t someone you knew.

“Berry?” you blink at the small girl, who you’re sure can barely even see you with how teary her eyes are. She watches you wearily before she gasps in recognition, and it’s then that you realize that her arm is bleeding.

“Tav!”

“You’re hurt,” you’re kneeling beside her in an instant, assessing her wounds as you reach to dig around your pockets in hopes of any medical supplies you might’ve left in there. “Did something attack you?”

“Yes,” she winces as you lift her arm to inspect it closer. “I’m not sure what it was, but it came out of nowhere, and they—-they tried to bite me.”

A lump forms in your throat. As twisted as it is, you're relieved you weren't actually imagining what you saw earlier. “Did you see if they had fangs? Did they look like a regular person?”

“I think so,” she replies in a hushed voice, wiping her tears. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do when it–”

A hand grabs her by the back of her cloak, yanking her in the air with her legs dangling helplessly as Astarion holds her just high enough to render attempts to kick at him useless. “I’d normally entertain tasteless tricks like this, but I’m in a less than forgiving mood, I’m afraid. You’ve cut into the time I have to fill my own stomach.”

You gasp, jumping to your feet. “Astarion, what the actual hells are you doing?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later, darling,” he sneers at the girl, hissing at him aimlessly. “Show them, you little imp.”

Having no idea what’s going on, you decide the best thing to do is de-escalate whatever misunderstanding he’s had about the poor girl tied to his hand. “You’ll hurt her. Just let her go and explain what’s going on.”

“Show them,” he pronounces each word harshly, glaring at Berry.

And finally, she tries to bite at his hand. This prompts her to unhinge her jaw just enough for you to see the glint of sharp teeth. Ones that do not certainly belong to an innocent orphan.

Were you always this unlucky, or was the past month just a living hell for you?

“See what I mean? You can offer your thanks to me later, darling,” Astarion smiles proudly, and if you knew him any less than you did, you’d think he’s psychotic for smiling like that in this situation. But then, again, maybe he is. “How you seem to attract so many of us is beyond me, but I believe we should refrain from keeping this one alive.”

Your jaw drops. As much as you feel appalled that the innocent girl you’ve been soothing over the death of her adoptive father for the past few weeks turned out to be one of the very creatures that nearly took your life (on multiple occasions), you can’t fathom the idea of just ridding of her. She’s still a kid—at least, to the naked eye. “Are you insane? No, we’re not killing her!”

“Gods, please don’t tell me you’ll try and make this brat see sense. She’s practically feral! Look at her!” he grits through his teeth, waving his free hand to the girl in question, who’s too busy trying to snap her teeth at him. “This thing doesn’t deserve your sympathy right now.”

Berry manages to catch the tip of his finger in her teeth, and Astarion lets out a string of curses as he drops her to the dirt. It doesn’t even take another second for her to lunge toward you, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into your flesh. You barely manage to swerve out of the way, her sharp nail grazing past your cheek.

“Berry, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!” you practically yell, but she only stumbles on the ground a moment before rushing at you again. You reach for your dagger, fearing you may have to use it on a child until she’s snatched into the air again.

This time, Astarion hangs her by the cloak onto a tree branch, where she screams and grasps at the air, practically throwing a tantrum.

You gawk in utter disbelief; too many things are happening simultaneously.

And Astarion doesn’t help as he slips out the damn comb again, grinning from ear to ear. You notice that this time, he seems to have taken the time to sharpen the tips of the teeth, which nearly look akin to a row of needles.

He holds the comb in Berry’s direction. “Well? Shall I do the honors?”

As you watch him threaten a child who also happens to be a vampire, you ponder that maybe you should have just handed him over to Dalyria when you had the chance.

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@bitterrenegade@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom@iamlowkeycrying@deezus-roy@spiritraves@mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc@whisperingwillowxox@bdudette@misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @deezus-roy @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @bitterbeanren @aelieknox Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added! I needed to redo the entire taglist because it wasn't functioning, so please let me know if I missed you :)

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff #shadowheart #astarion x you #astarion x oc

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hobiebrownismygod · 24 days

Note

Can you do a 42 Miles fanfic where we style and/or braid his hair but he’s pretty tender headed (even tho he tries to act tough)?

I have no idea how to braid his hair type so I did some research for it! pls let me know if anything is inaccurate and I hope you enjoy this little fic! As always, thx for requesting <3

Possible TW: reader is referred to as "Mami" (femreader), mention of Rio, kissing on the cheek (romantic tw), unedited (pls lmk if theres any errors/inconsistencies so I can fix them)

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"Hold still!" You exclaimed, pulling his head back as he let out a yelp. "You're braiding too tight!" he hissed, closing his eyes shut and groaning.

"Hey, I'm trying my best!" you exclaimed with a frown, loosening your grasp on his hair lightly in an attempt to be gentler. "They have to be tight or else they'll get lumpy."

He grumbled, sitting up straight and gripping onto the chair tightly to mask how much pain he was in.

This wasn't the first time you were braiding your boyfriend's hair, but you were starting to hope it would be the last. He was so tender-headed, you couldn't even touch his head without him letting out a yelp. How had his mom been dealing with him all these years?

But then of course, Rio had more patience than you'd ever seen in a mother so you weren't too surprised.

He grunted in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as you finished one of his cornrows, tying a rubber band to the end as gently as you could. "Miles..." you said, putting your arms around his neck from the back. "Do you want to take a break? Let your scalp breathe?" you asked a little teasingly.

"No! I'm fine." He said annoyedly, folding his arms over his chest as he avoided your eyes in the mirror. You kissed his cheek gently, a smile on your face. "Are you sure? The second one might hurt more."

His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean it'll hurt more?"

"If I don't finish soon, I'm gonna be late to get home! You know how my parents are about curfew" you said, rolling your eyes and gathering up the rest of his hair to start on the second cornrow.

"Wait, wait, wait-" he said quickly, standing up. "Just uh- just give me a second. Let me breathe."

You put your hands on your hips, watching him with a smile. "Does it really hurt that bad? Have you ever tried using numbing cream, or-"

"I don't need numbing cream! I'm not a little kid, Mami." he said with a frown, sitting back down tenderly. "Alright, just do it. I'm ready"

You glanced down at his knuckles, which were turning pale as he gripped onto the arm of the chair. The two of you stayed still for a moment.

After a second, he opened his eyes to look at you in the mirror. "You gonna do it, or...?"

"Miles, you're gonna hurt yourself if you hold on too tight." you said with a sigh. "This isn't a roller coaster."

He grumbled, folding his arms in his lap as he waited for you to start, his eyes closed shut. "Just braid it."

You raised an eyebrow at him. His breath hitched in his throat.

"Please?"

You rolled your eyes again, beginning his second braid. "That's what I thought."

He stayed silent for a moment, letting out a quiet hiss of pain as you slowly moved your way down his scalp. "Thanks for doing this by the way." He said softly. "Means a lot to me." His voice was so quiet it was almost like a whisper.

"Always." you said back, your fingers moving as gently as they could, satisfied with his gratitude. "I'm really trying to be gentle man, you're just tender-headed."

"I know, I know. Thanks." It only took a few minutes for you to be done and he immediately leapt up, touching his head gently and looking in the mirror. "Looks good."

He turned around, a grin on his face before sweeping you up in a hug, arms wrapped around your waist. "I love youuu" he teased, kissing your cheek, back in a good mood now that the pain was over.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." you said with a laugh, pushing his face back gently. "I love you too, Miles."

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He's a silly little guy

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the-kr8tor · 8 months

Note

I'm back! 🤭 can I get hobie who's friends with a goofy but oblivious reader. They're both crushing but reader thinks he's just being friendly(i mean look how he sweet he is with miles, gwen, and pav. How could he like me like me pfft you guys are silly). Like they match his flirty vibes and touchiness and everyone thinks they're dating but nah readers just like that and hobies like I don't know what we are but one of these days I'll just kiss them and hope for the best(if he did it'd be the shocked oh before the can you do that again from them?)🥰 It's totally not because I'm that silly friend who flirts with all her friends but can't take a hint when someone likes her unless they litteraly throw it in my face.

Hi hun! Thank you for requesting!! Sorry this took a bit. Hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x spidey! Reader/ Spider-Punk x spidey! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

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You're on a stakeout with Hobie, perched on top of a skyscraper, he sits next to you on the dirty ledge, eyes fixated on the two m&m's wedged between your index and thumb, the blue one is on your right, on your left is the green one, looking worse for wear. Hobie's eyes are glued on your fingers squeezing on both m&m's like he's watching his favourite band play in front of him. His arm is looped around your shoulder, providing much needed warmth from the cool air.

"Green's not lookin' too good, love" he says too close to your ear, breath fanning over your cheek

"We'll see" you squeeze harder on the candies, the blue one cracks under the pressure, chocolate spills over your fingers. "Tough luck for you, Hobie" you grin at him, holding the cracked candy for him.

"Best of 11?" He asks, grabbing your wrist, bringing the chocolate over to his mouth. You're sure he can feel your pulse thumping against your wrist.

"Told you to pick green" a smug look on your face, hiding what you're really feeling.

"What can I say, I like rooting for the underdogs"

Before you could reply, your communicator rings. Popping the small bubble of relaxation you've both created.

"Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds" Gwen's voice rings out on your bracelet "time to switch it up"

You sigh, completely missing Gwen's first sentence, Hobie retracts his arm away, disappointing you both. Standing to your full height, "well, I'll see you in a few hours", quickly popping the candy in your mouth, you grab your mask, pulling it down, Hobie stops you halfway.

"Wait" he takes a few steps towards you, thumb over the edge of your lips. Your heart stops, thinking he's gonna make his move.

You've been crushing on him for a while now, but you could never make out whether his touches and flirty comments are completely platonic or romantic, considering he's always like that to his friends. So unless he says otherwise you'll always see him as being friendly towards you.

He rubs his thumb over the tip of your lips "you got chocolate on it" Hobie wipes the last bits off. Definitely just friendly though, right?

"Thanks" you murmur out, heat rising on your cheeks.

For Hobie though, he almost kissed you right there and then, with how the moonlight shines overhead bathing you in its glow, how could he not? He's sure your lips would taste of chocolate if he did. But he stops, realizing it's probably not the right time since you're both standing on a dirty rooftop. He wants to make it perfect for you and finally cement your relationship.

Hobie taps your covered cheek fondly, "watch your back"

"You watch yours" you pat his chest, Hobie's breathing stops for a second.

Hobie drops and swings away towards the other stakeout location before he could cave in and actually kiss you.

You turn your back, swinging towards your designated location. Dropping down next to Gwen. She's looking through her binoculars watching and waiting for the anomaly to appear.

"Finally, took your sweet time with loverboy" She tosses the binoculars, you fumble with it for a second before you catch it. Her hands are poised on her hips, head tilted accusingly to you.

"He's not my 'loverboy'. He's just a friend" you look through the binoculars, hiding how her comment flustered you.

"Mm-hmm sure, friends definitely look at eachother like that. And they definitely feed each other chocolates from your fingers"

You move your neck a little bit too fast, eyes widening at her. "You were listening in?"

"Hey, not my fault!" Her hands are up in a surrender "you do know our communicators are all on and connected for this mission, right?"

"Oh my god!" You squeak out, hands flying towards your face in embarrassment. "Why didn't you tell us?" You peak through your fingers.

"I tried to! But Lyla stopped us, she said something about friends to lovers, slowburn seventy k or whatever that means"

"Us?! Pav heard too?!" You move your hands over your head, wishing invisibility is in your arsenal of spidey powers. You look at your bracelet.

"Don't worry Lyla turned it off now, she said there's no drama anymore since you're not partnered up now" Gwen reassures you. "It's okay! We all know you're together" she puts a comforting hand on your back, patting it softly.

Your eyes almost pop out of its sockets, mouth agape "we're not together!"

"What?" Gwen chuckles "you sure?"

"Why? Did he say something?" Hope sparks in your chest. Were you in a relationship this entire time? It's not that you'll protest against it, hell you'll even welcome it, saves you the awkward 'asking him out' part. Were you that dense?

"No, with how touchy you both are, we all thought you were together" Gwen shrugs.

"Huh?! What do you mean everyone?!"

"Everyone, the entire spider society. Honestly Miguel's been thinking about setting up an HR department because of your pda"

You crumble to your feet, embarrassment flooding your body. Sure you're also very affectionate to your friends, especially Hobie, but you never thought in a million years that people actually thought you're together.

Meanwhile, Pavitr's been gushing to Hobie about what he heard (and seen, he and Gwen might've glanced your way for a bit) between the two of you.

"You two were so cute!" Pav shakes Hobie's arm.

"Yeah, yeah" if he squints hard enough, he can see you talking to Gwen. "You didn't even bother telling us about the communicator?"

Pav stops in his tracks, chuckling while rubbing the back of his neck "I tried to, bro! But Lyla said It's important for the mission"

"Sure" that's not new, Lyla has been trying to finally get you two together for a while now. He sees you drop to your knees, but he can't make out why you're on the floor.

As if Pavitr senses Hobie's feelings, he pipes up "don't worry, they like you too. Just tell it to them straight"

"I know they like me too, I just don't know what we are"

"Dude, everyone already thinks you're dating, they're just a bit dense, no offense"

Hobie scoffs "don't care what they think" he stops, looking at Pav with a confused look. "What do you mean dense?"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way! It's just– I don't think they know that you like them" Pavitr bounces on the balls of his feet.

Huh, so that's why you've never initiated anything, or even told me you like me. Hobie thinks, everything makes sense now. Your shy smiles and tentative flirting back fits right in like a missing puzzle piece. You don't know. He's never confessed to someone before, maybe he should just kiss you and hope for the best.

You pace around the small rooftop "it's silly, he can't actually like me, right?"

Gwen opens her mouth to speak but you keep talking to yourself, like you're trying to convince yourself how could Hobie like you more than a friend would? "Like seriously, how can he like me? He's like that with everyone! He's just being friendly y'know. You're so silly, Gwendy" you ramble on, laughing loudly, a little too crazy of a laugh for Gwen's liking.

"Okay, you clearly like him back" Gwen sighs, exasperated, shaking your form like she's trying to wake you up "Just tell him" She moves to the side showing you where Hobie stands on the opposite rooftop, his and Pav's body a small dot in your eyesight. You look at Gwen confused, he's a bit too far for a confession, but you throw caution into the wind, Gwen's encouraging words pushing you to just do it. Cupping your hands over your mouth into a makeshift megaphone.

"Hobie!" You scream loud enough to get his attention, you see him raise his arm. Gwen stands next to you, facepalming. "I like you!"

"What?!" Hobie yells back, mirroring your stance, he genuinely didn't hear you. Pavitr stands next to him, groaning. Yep you're perfect for eachother. He thinks.

Gwen murmurs out "love makes you so stupid" she taps a few buttons on her bracelet opening the line of communication for the team.

"I like you!" You shout it again, this time Hobie hears it loud and clear. He doesn't waste a second, jumping from the roof, he swings as fast as he could to you.

Lyla's hologram appears, a popcorn in her hand, she squeals "it's happening!" Gwen side eyes her, wishing she had some popcorn too. She stands a bit farther away giving you both space, seeing Pav jumping up and down from his roof.

Hobie lands breathlessly in front of you, hands waiting to break that barrier between you.

"Hi" you smile shyly.

"Hi" He cups your face in his hands, carefully sliding off your mask until he can see you in all your glory. "There you are"

"Here I am" you could only manage to bracelet his wrists with your hands, breathing matching his.

Hobie bites the bullet, "can I?" Tapping your lips with his pointing finger.

You swallow down "mm-hmm"

"Need you to use your words, love" He needs you to say it, just in case it goes over your head again. Hobie removes his mask in one swift move, quickly putting his hand back to your face.

Gwen takes this as a sign to leave, swinging towards an excited Pav. Lyla's hologram stays to the side, eyes glued to you both, she ignores the fifth call from Miguel.

"You can kiss me" his affection doesn't fly over your head this time, understanding his actions completely.

He leans down, feeling your lips against his. You can feel him smile through the kiss, you both taste like chocolate. You loop your arms over the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Hobie chuckles. Melting in his touch, you take it that he likes you back.

He reluctantly pulls away for air, you look at him your pupils blown out, your lips shining. Tilting your head you ask meekly "do that again?" Hobie chuckles deeply, pecking your nose before he kisses your lips again.

Pavitr shakes Gwen's shoulders excitedly, "I did that" he puffs his chest out in pride. While Gwen's already thinking of ways he can tease Hobie.

Miguel's hologram suddenly appears next to Lyla. He takes one look of you both tangled together, yelling out "That's it! We're having a meeting about workplace relationships!--" Lyla cuts him off, sighing, her hologram glows a bright pink. Good thing the anomaly didn't show up.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

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daycourtofficial · 2 months

Text

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 7

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: eeeek I’ve had parts of this one in the drafts for AGES the middle section has been drafted for at least a month I swear and I’ve been sitting on it like 🧍‍♀️ waiting to share it. I think this is my favorite part so far (but not my fav overall 🥰)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Masterlist)

Your day had been shit. Ever since that godsawful date Mor ambushed you with last night, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering about Azriel and Nesta’s date. What they were doing, how things were going, if she was making him laugh.

Hell, you couldn’t stop thinking about their date while on your own date. The guy was good looking, and he wasn’t terrible, but there was nothing there between you two.

He also was very into cryptocurrency, a topic that quickly took over the conversation at dinner. A topic you did not encourage him to continue on. He somehow didn’t get that memo, insisting on walking you up towards the doors of your building when he was dropping you off, where you had made a lame excuse about going to bed early before ducking into your building.

You had followed the same path Azriel took only moments ago, continuing on to your own apartment. You open the door, finding a note on the fridge in Cassian’s messy scrawl.

Have fun.

He drew a winky face, and then several crude drawings on the post-it. The drawings made you groan, Cassian’s enthusiasm for your date further solidifying your nonexistent chance with his brother.

Of course Cassian would have Mor set you up after he found out about your little crush on his brother. You felt so stupid when you saw Nesta on their couch earlier today. You hardly spoke to Rhysand on the way to lab, your thoughts too flooded with how terribly you had read the whole situation.

Cassian probably told Mor all about your dumb crush and got her to fix you up tonight. Maybe Azriel had even mentioned your text to Cassian, asking him what to do about the annoying roommate who developed a crush on his brother.

Your chest hurts, but it was just a silly crush. You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

Azriel stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close as he looked at his phone, looking at the last message you had sent him Friday morning.

Wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

He hadn’t answered, his phone having been on silent all day to focus on finishing his work for the next week and the reception in the library not allowing messages to come through. He hadn’t seen the message until he woke up this morning, the timestamp seeming cruel.

Now he stares at it and wants to throw his phone. Missed opportunities, he supposes. But what would this lunch have looked like since you’re dating that dickhead from last night? Would you have had to reject him outright?

He can see your face contort in a smile as you tell him, “oh no, Az, I’m seeing someone.” Then you’d probably laugh about it with the dickhead.

He runs his hands down his face when he hears someone yelling, “hold the elevator please!” He juts out an arm on instinct, not noticing who it is. He sees you slip inside, the doors bumping against his arm, bringing him back to reality as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

A light scent of oranges fills the elevator, and he notes it’s likely from your shampoo. He pulls his arm from the door, allowing them to close, locking the two of you in the metal box.

You look up at him, eyes going wide, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the close proximity. You’re standing right in front of him, and you can smell his cologne, a scent of night-chilled air and cedar filling your nose. You take deep breaths, telling yourself that it’s okay, it was just a little crush.

On a very pretty, smart, and very kind guy.

Who smelled incredible.

You look down at your feet, unsure how to speak to him now that you knew he was dating Nesta. And not wanting to further embarrass yourself by flirting with him.

Gods, this was how you were going to die, you think, shuffling to lean against the rail. Azriel’s voice puts a halt to the spiraling of your thoughts.

“Nice date last night?” Azriel asks, trying not to let whatever he’s feeling bubble up. Your eyebrows shoot up, unaware of Azriel even knowing about your date.

Of course he knows, you think, Cassian probably told him he’d handle it.

“He spent the while night telling me about stocks and crypto and how he wants to be in Forbes 30 under 30,” you scoffed, “so no, it was not nice.”

The elevator starts moving, and his eyebrows shoot up. “So that wasn’t your boyfriend?”

You scoff, “hell no. Mor ambushed me yesterday. She told me to get dressed up and we’d go out and have a fun girl’s night, but when I showed up she texted me that she set me up instead.

“The worst part is Mor was so confident that she told Cassian about it, so he had stayed at her place last night to give me ‘privacy’. He even left crude drawings around the apartment to help the ‘atmosphere’.”

Azriel laughs as the elevator dings for the third floor. He feels his chest lighten, knowing you definitely weren’t seeing anyone. “Mor’s always been ambitious, hasn’t she?”

You laugh. “Maybe it was just a ploy for her to have sex with Cassian.”

You say it, but you know it’s not true. The real truth was they wanted to put you out there, help you get over the beautiful man standing next to you. They knew you didn’t have a shot, especially compared to Nesta. You’re brought back to reality, and decide to hurt yourself further.

“How was your date with Nesta?” You ground out, after a pause in your conversation. You needed to know so you can completely cut off your feelings for him. You needed him to pierce you with the final dagger.

His eyebrows arch up, and he looks at your expression.

Were you upset? You won’t meet his gaze, and you’re clenching your fists. Were you - jealous?

His mouth curls up at the thought, “uh it wasn’t a date. Nesta and I study together every Thursday night. We take a lot of the same classes. We did it last night instead because she was busy on Thursday.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, “so you’re not dating Nesta?”

He laughs, “absolutely not. No that’s an avenue I’d never go down. But there is some-“

His words die as you hear a screeching sound and the elevator stops completely, leaving you two stranded somewhere between the first and second floors.

“No - no, no, no.”

You start freaking out - elevators always gave you a bit of concern, their small dimensions making you feel cramped. You hit the button to open the door, jamming it with your finger. Realizing that it was fruitless, You pull out your phone only to remember that the elevator always has no service.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and your breaths start coming faster and faster, and you’re trying to remember your calming techniques, when you feel cold hands gently grab your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me.”

You look up, finding hazel eyes looking back at you. They’re etched with concern, not a trace of mockery in them.

“We’re okay. Breathe with me, can you do that?”

He grabs one of your hands, placing it on his chest so you can feel his breaths as they come in and out. Your eyes stay trained on his, not wanting to look away, wanting to get lost in the gold flecks you find there.

You start following the rhythm of his breaths, but he keeps talking to you in a soothing tone. You’re too focused on breathing to register what he’s saying, but you do register the soothing tone he’s speaking to you in. You could get lost in his voice, its deep timbre a melody in your ears.

Eventually you come back down enough to focus on what he’s saying and he’s telling you about his night - everything he did yesterday.

“Rhys texted me to get some trash bags on my way in, which is where I was coming from when I pulled up and found you with crypto douche.”

You smile, your first real reaction to his words since the elevator stopped.

“There she is,” he says, his finger tapping your cheek, “wanna tell me more about crypto douche?”

“He wants to be a landlord.”

Azriel snorts, “of course he does.”

“I didn’t even want to go on this date,” your eyes stay locked with his, the golden flecks calming you down. “But Mor has been begging me to go out with this guy for ages, and then she finally decided to ambush me by forcing it on me.”

“You know you can tell Mor “no”. It’s a complete sentence.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but she loves playing matchmaker, even though she’s awful at it. Usually once every other month I let her set me up, but she was just throwing a tantrum I wouldn’t let her set me up this time once I figured out the rouse.”

He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that you haven’t let her set you up since meeting him. Coincidence, maybe. “Have any of them been successful?”

You blow out a breath, “uh, no. Usually I stay for an hour then leave. None of them have ever gotten a second date.” You pause, thinking. “In the words of the great philosopher of our time, “I’m a pathological people pleaser,” you chuckle.

“And who said that?”

“…. Taylor Swift.”

He looks at you, a chuckle on his breath, such tenderness in his gaze it shocks you a bit. “You should stand up for yourself more.”

“I’m… not really sure how. It’s kind of new to me.”

You look at your feet, but he taps your chin so you’ll look at him again. “I stood up to my parents, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You had tiptoed around the topic since your admission to Cassian the day you moved in, the wound still too raw to discuss with anyone other than Feyre. Mor knew some of the details, but not the whole story. You’re sure Rhys and Az knew that something happened with your parents, but you never let them know too much about it.

They didn’t know that your parents had told you that you became everything they had tried to avoid. That, despite everything they did for you, you didn’t turn out right.

You hadn’t told Mor because you knew she would have burnt down their house with them in it.

“It was scary, moving here with a guy I hardly knew.” His grip on you tightens slightly, and he’s hanging onto every word you say.

“But I don’t regret it. Not even when Cassian wakes me up at 6 AM with his singing.”

He chuckles, and he stills as you look into his eyes, your voice clear and strong.

“I don’t… I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret meeting you.”

His hands are still cupped on your face, his face mere inches from your own. Your confession hangs in the air as you two look at each other, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breathing hitches, but not because you’re stuck.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator comes back to life, moving downwards again. It startles both of you into jumping away from each other, and you clear your throat.

“Where are- where are you going?” You ask, gesturing towards his helmet.

“Oh, uh Cassian forgot his lunch and doesn’t have time to grab anything between clients. I was going to bring him something.”

The air is lighter between you two, and Azriel feels like he can breathe you in again. The fog of confusion has lifted between you two, leaving you to be seen clearly by him.

“Do you want to get lunch?”

He echos your previous text message to him, and you nod.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

You stroll through the lobby, putting as much distance between the falter elevator and yourselves. Once you make it to the parking lot, Azriel places his spare helmet on your head, tapping the top of it lightly affectionately.

You zip your jacket up as Azriel gets on the bike first, his thighs straddling the seat. He holds the bike steady, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders for balance, letting go of your fears as you swing your leg around to straddle the bike behind him. Your body leans against his, wrapping around him, holding onto him.

You place your head on his back, your fingers clutching onto his jacket. It feels new, electricity crackling through every inch of you that is in contact with him, despite the layers and helmets that separate you.

He chuckles at the gasp you let out when you two start moving, how your hands hold onto his jacket a little tighter than before.

He pulls a hand away to place it gently on one of the hands you have clutched to his jacket, squeezing three times before moving his hand back.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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