#ships; our love is a dance in the dark

[rayaswrittings]

I just want to feel

Pairing: Colby Brock x Fem!best friend!reader

Summary: your best friends, Sam and Colby, ask you to be in one of their Q&A videos, but there’s alcohol involved… a lot of it.

Warning(s): SMUT! Mature Language, mature themes, kissing, alcohol, unprotected p in v, Friends to lovers trope :)), choking etc.

This is a long writing so I’m sorry for mistakes!

“Are you sure I should be in the video? I mean, your fans barely know about me” You ask for a final time as Sam leads you to the living room, his recording camera already set up in front of the couch where Colby had been sitting. The two of them were wearing all black so you did too, a black off the shoulder sweater that was old. It was one of the main things you’d leave at Sam and Colby’s in case you ever crashed for the night.

While most people would kill to be in their videos, you never really saw the point. You were somewhat camera shy and a complete nobody. Why would anyone care to see you on the screen? Not to mention all the random internet ships that come with it all. You grew up with Sam, which means you ultimately grew up with Colby as soon as they met. You were only a teenager and now that your adults, you stay at theirs from time to time when your out with friends and get wasted at a party.

Colby would always come and get you from them.

“Our fans will love you. Just be honest and chill, okay?” Sam nods toward Colby and you walk past him to sit next to the dark haired boy, his strong cologne filling your nose.

“Don’t be nervous, at least we have alcohol” Colby’s comment made a small laugh escape from your lips, and you shook your head at his playful smirk. He was right. Alcohol always calmed you down and made your anxiety a little bit less of what it usually was.

You watch the blonde lean forward to turn on the camera and Colby does the same, although you sit back and watch them do their intro. You’d only been in a few other videos of there’s as a small guest but they always made it known to their fans who you were. After all, you all basically started off nobody’s together.

You remember the last morning you had left for school with Sam in freshman year. It was the last day you’d left alone with him for the rest of high school. Your parents were close to each other so you and Sam had practically known each other for most of your lives, but that day, when he met Colby, it wasn’t just the two of you anymore.

The three of you would take the bus together every morning and walk home every afternoon, spending almost every second in between still with one another. It was perfect. Your group was so refreshing, it felt so right.

Your first argument was when you were in junior year, at a party you knew you shouldn’t of been at.

At the time, you’d been talking to this senior, James. He was the captain of your schools swim team and fairly muscular for his 17 years of age. That night at the party was the first time you’d really done anything, he kept handing you shots and like an idiot, you took them. Looking back on it now, you know it could’ve been avoided, but you also trusted the boy you liked. You truly wanted to just fit in with his friends.

That was until he tried to to undo your crochet top in the middle of the dance floor, whispering dirty nothings into your ear that made you feel disgusting.

When you told him off, he got angry with you, grabbing your arm and trying to pull you away so he could get you alone. People were starting to stare and you were starting to get embarrassed, like you were some random slut he’d been taking upstairs.

But then he was ripped away from you, and in only a matter of seconds, Sam’s hand was laid on the small of your back, checking you for bruises the boy might’ve given you. He was trying to talk to you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the chaos on the floor.

“Colby, get off of him!” You scream, noticing the blood coming from James’s face. Colby was on top of him, punching him the hardest you’d ever seen anyone punch, not sparing him anything. Sam held you back when you tried to get close, they saw what he did to you and there was no way in hell they’d let it slide.

The sound of police sirens fill the street and everyone is quickly running out of the house, and finally Colby stands up. He wipes his now busted lip before looking back at his two friends, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bloody mess laid on the floor.

You hated blood.

“Y/N-“ you push yourself off Sam and past Colby, looking out the window to watch the police cars pull in front of the house. It looked like a murder scene, and you were so in shock you couldn’t even think straight. “Y/N, we have to go” Colby tries to grab your arm but you quickly pull it away, and now he’s able to see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Get out of here!” You can hear the officers radio the closer they get, and all you could think about was getting Sam and Colby out of there. “Go! Please just go!” Your pleading words make it almost impossible to not listen, and with only a few more seconds, your friends were gone.

That was the day you realized the severity of your friendship— or at least you and Colby’s friendship. The fact that all of you would do anything for each other, whether that was beating up an abuser, or putting your life on the line for the other person.

Ever since then, you and Colby had this undeniable tension between the two of you. It was weird, like something you couldn’t figure out. It was only made purely visible that night.

You’d never even kissed Colby, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about it sometimes. Your usually able to hide it, your desire for the boy, except when your at parties.

Whenever you drink, it’s like everything has to come out the way you think it. Nothing like liquid courage, huh? That’s the exact reason you didn’t want to do the video.

You never stopped thinking about that night.

“Y/N?” You blinked at the touch against your arm, and Colby was looking at you with a slight confusion on his face. “You okay?” You notice the camera’s recording light and nod, sitting up with a smile. “I think it’s time to get drunk, huh?” He nudged you and you nod with a laugh “first question!”

One of your other friends was there reading the questions for you, and even though you thought you’d start off light, she did not give you a break.

“What’s the worst doing the dirty experience you’ve had?” Sam and Colby stare at each other for a second until one of them laughs, shaking their head with the dumbest response. Sam, of course makes a joke out of it but Colby has no shame in what he says, as always.

“One time I had a girl use a lot of teeth, and uh… we never talked again. It was very awkward” Sam hisses at the statement, which makes you laugh too. “What about you, Y/N?” Colby turns to you and your face almost turns red from the sudden eyes on you. Everyone in the room and the camera was waiting on you now.

“Uh… I guess the last time I was talking to a guy. I had to fake the whole thing and he finished quick so it just felt so awkward and it was silent the rest of the night” Colby and Sam raise their eyebrows at you but are laughing at the same time. They knew who you were talking about.

“Colby, why do you post with girls on social media and never tell the fans what’s going on?” The question takes all of you by surprise and Colby’s eyes go wide. That was exactly what happened with you and why you didn’t want to be on the channel that much anymore.

“Umm…” He laughs nervously, looking over at you for a split second. “Because sometimes, I don’t know what’s going on, alright? I’m just posting the post and maybe it turns into something or maybe it doesn’t?”

“It’s not like their your girlfriend” Sam interjects and Colby nods agreeably.

“Let’s just say if I had a girlfriend, you guys would know” After you guys are done with that question, your kind of sitting back and watching the two answer at that point. Except they had to drink once so you did too, now you were all one shot in.

“Colby, why do you have a pair of handcuffs in your room?” Everyone’s face is in shock in the room as they look at Colby, waiting for his answer. He laughs nervously again, looking over at same with wide eyes before sitting up.

“I uh… you know I-“

“Might have to drink on that one, huh?” You tease and he rolls his eyes at your words with a laugh, closing the alcohol bottle he was about to open.

“No, no. I um… I use them for personal fun. Yeah, that’s-“

“What the fuck does that mean” You and Sam burst out laughing but your friend shakes her head. “Judge says no. Drink!” Sam hands him the bottle and Colby’s face is now turning a slight red. A tint only you could see because of how close you were.

“I’ve used them for sexual fun” He says just as he’s about to pour the shot, but your friend rolls her eyes and nods that he doesn’t have to drink.

“That was luck” Colby nudges your arm and shrugs, that annoying smirk of his only making you laugh.

“Name two dirty kinks you have” The girl reads and all three of you are wide eyeing the camera. Sam curses under his breath and Colby is still in shock. It was still so early in the game, already?

“Wait, I’m not answering that. I already said one, right?” Sam agrees to Colby but the judge shakes her head. “Just one more then? I already day said one!”

“You go first, Y/N” Sam cuts off his clearly pressured friend and they both turn to you, but your face is an even deeper red then Colby’s now.

“Um… I don’t—I mean it’s been a long time so I don’t really know…”

“Oh come on, Everyone has them” Colby teases and you glare at him, letting out a sigh as you sat back on the couch.

Apart of you was afraid to tell them, because you’d never really been that open with them about sexual preferences. Sam wasn’t the one you were worried about, him and Katrina were perfectly locked in with each other and you knew whatever you said didn’t matter.

But with Colby, there was always this unspoken tension between the two of you. One you tried to ignore but always failed terribly when you’d see him make out with another girl. You were afraid he’d see right through you if you answered the question, and if there was one thing you couldn’t ignore,

It was the way he’d look at you.

“I think… I think choking is attractive, but like not too aggressively, you know?”

“So your submissive?” Colby’s words go through your ear and straight down. He was clearly trying to get to you with that question, and there it was again.

The tension between the two of you.

“Sometimes” You try to cover it up but you can feel his eyes piercing right through you, his smirk showing the small of his pearly white teeth that always made you blush. “What about you then, hmm? Mr. Talk shit” You push his face and the two of them laugh, but Colby is no longer embarrassed to say it.

“I like to be Dominant” He says to the camera and Sam blows air from his mouth, shake his head in disbelief. Colby isn’t looking at you on purpose. Oh god, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You lean back on the couch, scratching your nose to try and hide your burning hot cheeks from everyone’s eyes. It was like he was doing it on purpose. He was so clearly teasing you.

And you wished it wasn’t working, but it’s been so long that it’s impossible for your stomach not to twist into multiple knots.

Or at least that’s the excuse you gave yourself.

After many more questions and many more drinks, the alcohol started to take a toll on all three of you already. You had only had three shots and even the camera was hard to focus on. Sam and Colby’s eyes had been getting red but yours were harder to see because of your eyelashes.

“Who do you think is the most attractive clubhouse member besides Kat” Colby and your own eyes go wide and you both stare at Sam. Obviously he couldn’t answer that, but neither could you, right?

“None! Sorry, gotta drink to that. Can’t answer cause it ain’t true” Sam sasses the camera while opening the bottle. Colby laughs, both of you applauding your friend.

“Yeah, I’m gonna drink to that one as well” Colby reaches down to grab the other bottle from the floor, pouring it into his shot glass. “I can’t answer that, but I do have someone in mind” he cheers to the camera and his words alone make your stomach twist once again. It definitely wasn’t you, but saying something like that… after the other questions..

“What about you, Y/N?” The girl asks as the boys down their own shots. She raises an eyebrow, “might as well give us something here, right?” As much as you wanted to decline and run away embarrassed, you could feel the liquid courage increasing.

The way everyone looked at you, they all knew who it was. You leaned back with a huff, you could feel Colby’s eyes on you the entire time you were stalling, but when you looked at him, his eyes pierced through you.

“I think… I think I’ll drink too” Sam and Colby boo at you when you pour the shot. You couldn’t do it. He didn’t either so that must mean he doesn’t… feel the same, Right?

“I can’t even see the camera anymore, dude” Sam laughs at Colby’s words. Sam has more shots then the two of you so you’d imagine he’d be the one saying it, but of course it was Colby.

Maybe that’s why he was looking at you like that..

Towards the end of the video, all three of you were pretty drunk. Sam was the least, you were in the middle, and Colby… Jesus. Colby was so drunk.

“Fuck, man” Colby lays his head on the end table for just a second, you could tell his head was spinning. You rub his back, his body temperature is very warm. You look over to Sam and nod toward the camera, and Sam immediately understands.

“Maybe we should take a small break?”

“Where are you going?” You ask Sam, watching him put on his jacket and grab his keys. You finished the video about 30 minutes ago and Colby was on the couch watching tv, while you had just changed into night clothes which really were only comfy shorts and a crop top like usual.

“I have to go stay at Kat’s tonight. We’re heading to her parents tomorrow morning” You hum, pouring a glass of water for yourself and one for Colby. You had forgotten Sam was going away for a few days. “Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone” You stop and look at him with slightly furrowed brows, but he’s just raising his eyebrows with a shrug, leaving you with the confusion of his statement.

He doesn’t… he can’t know, right? You weren’t that obvious.

“Water?” Your voice is enough to catch Colby’s attention from the tv. He was watching some random scary movie it looked like but you’d never seen it so you weren’t completely sure. You hand him the water and take a seat next to him, leaving a gap between the two of you. You had thought the tension would be gone by now but it clearly wasn’t, you could only hope it was just your overthinking.

“What’s up with you? You were being weird the whole video” His question makes you somewhat relieved. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything, maybe it really was all just in your own head—but how were you meant to explain you couldn’t focus because of how badly you wanted him. Even now, he was leaned back on the couch, his hair messy from running his hands through it and his tattoos on full display for you to look at. Jesus, it felt like torture.

Why did you have to get drunk?

“I just didn’t feel good” You shrug, looking over at the tv and tilting the glass of water toward your lips. You can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to give him a real answer but he doesn’t push you. He only takes a sip of his water, turning back to the movie.

“Are you going home tonight?” You glance at the clock, it’s already 11. Should you? You have a room here, you didn’t really need to.

But did he want you to?

“I was planning on staying but if you don’t want me to-“

“I want you to stay” Your stomach twists, with excitement and somewhat nervousness at the same time. He was being direct but he wasn’t even looking at you. You wanted to stay and watch the movie with him, but the more you looked at him, the more the drunken side of you just wanted to kiss him.

You wanted him.

“Come here” You hesitate for a few seconds before placing your drink back on the glass table in front of you, moving to sit closer to the boy. His arm was laid on the back of the couch and he opens the blanket he’d been using to you. He wanted you close.

Your practically curled next to him by the middle of the movie, head laid in the crook of his neck and your legs sitting on top of his own. Not much had been said all movie, but Colby was getting more and more touchy as it went on.

His fingers traced shapes on your bare legs under the blanket, the cold metal of his rings sometimes brushing against your skin. He made it seem so normal, like it was an every day thing the two of you did together.

But this only made you so much hornier.

His scent radiates from his neck, and it was almost as if you wanted to kiss his neck right then and there. It was so alluring—He was so alluring to you.

And he knew it.

“Do you want to tell me why you were really acting weird today?” He asks again, looking down at the tent his hand made under the blanket while he caressed your leg.

You bite your bottom lip, looking at the blanket as well. You could feel the tingling feeling between your legs as his hand touched you farther, as if he had been testing the waters before actually saying anything.

“Colby…” You can’t help but pull your legs even closer together, and that alone is all he needed to tell him how you felt. “Not everything needs an explanation. It’s just… complicated”

“Complicated, huh?” He hums sarcastically, in a knowing form. You bite your lip as you watch him rub his temple, frustration radiating off of him. “You know, For the longest time, I tried to let this whole thing go out of respect for you, Y/N” He mumbled, his voice low and husky with passion. God, he sounded so hot. Even if he was upset, you just couldn’t help yourself. “I always thought it would be you and Sam” He lets out a huffed chuckle, still keeping his eyes on his lap. “But I want it to be me”

What?

No. He isn’t… he doesn’t mean what you think, right? Colby Brock isn’t confessing his feelings for you, right?

“Colby, what’s wrong with you?” His body tenses when you ask that stupid question. What’s wrong with him? Like you didn’t know.

“What’s wrong with me? What about you?” He finally turns his head to look at you, his drunken, sad and very horny eyes staring lasers into yours. “You can’t seriously sit here and believe yourself when you ask me that question” You couldn’t think. You didn’t even move for awhile because of your lack of words or thoughts for that matter. You wanted to give in, but you were also so terrified of if it wasn’t real.

“Colby, I’m not the person you want. Trust me, you will figure that out soon enough” He scoffs as you get off the couch, trying to at least relieve some of the tension between the two of you. Colby was so tired of waiting, but you were just too scared.

“How do you know what I want? You’ve barely spoke to me the past few weeks!” The boy calls after you when your walking away from the couch, his voice only makes you stop. “You’ve been weird for weeks, Y/N. Don’t ask me what’s wrong with me when you can’t even tell me how you feel”

“Colby, I don’t know how I feel!” You turn around with frustration, staring at the back of his head. He was still sat on the couch, and part of you hoped he stayed there—but another part wanted him to go after you. “I haven’t just been distant because of you-“

“That’s such bullshit and you know it” He stands, turning to look at you. You were far too drunk for this. You could feel the unnecessary tears already filling your eyes, you didn’t want to argue with him. “Look me in my eyes and tell me that—then I’ll let it go”

“Can we please just talk about this tomorrow-“

“You know what I think? I think your just scared of feeling weak. Your scared of letting someone in, Y/N. And the past few weeks we’ve been getting closer than before, that’s why your distant now. That’s your biggest weakness” Colby scoffs, grabbing his jacket off the couch and slipping it on with ease. You furrow your eyebrows as he walks toward you, and past you.

You grab his arm, “Colby, your drunk. Don’t go out, Please” he’s avoiding your eyes but you can see the chisel on his jaw, clenching with what you thought had been anger. “I don’t know how to do this, Colby. I… I can’t even bring myself to say the words I want to say to you” He tears his arm away from you, snatching his keys from the countertop. No. You couldn’t let it end like that—not when you have so much to say. “Okay, fine!”

“You want the truth, Colby? For years all I felt for you for you, all in silence because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship with Sam and Each other. I watched you with other girls since we were juniors! I couldn’t stand you, but yet I also couldn’t stand to be without you. Everywhere I go, I always want you with me—and when i’d see you with other girls, it would make me feel stupid, like my feelings meant nothing to you even if you didn’t know”

“How was I supposed to tell you that? How was I supposed to tell you that even after everything that’s happened, I still can’t stop loving you!” Your confession slips like words of anger said in an heated argument. Colby still wasn’t looking at you, which only made your heart ache even worse. You just poured your heart out to him—couldn’t he at least look at you?

“When you got put in the hospital during senior year, I was there every fucking second with you! I cried, Colby! I was a mess for days, and Sam was the one who had to juggle the two of us!” You remembered that day like it was yesterday. The day you’d gotten into a huge argument with Sam about your feelings for Colby. Sam always knew of both your feelings, but he didn’t say anything to the other. If you were going to admit, it had to be to each other. “I’m usually so good at hiding how I feel, but I’m getting so tired of it. The Same repeating cycle I just-“

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Y/N. Why didn’t you-“

“Are you serious? After all those talks we had about you not caring for a relationship and not wanting a future with someone? You were practically telling me no! I wanted to tell you but then you started going to parties more and kissing girls and-“

“Y/N”

“It hurt me, Colby. That’s why I didn’t tell you. It would physically hurt my chest to see you kiss another girl after flirting with me for DAYS. You played with my head and I know I played with yours too but-“

“Y/N, I’m-“

“No matter how hard I try or how many guys I find, there’s nothing for me. I can’t… I can’t move past you and it fucking sucks” You hadn’t even realized he moved until you were done talking. He was close now—close enough to hear his breathing if you’d been quiet enough. Your heart shatters with every passing moment that’s goes silent. You knew you couldn’t be the same after this, so you begged in your mind for him to say something.

Only he didn’t say anything, and for a moment you actually thought he’d leave you there alone.

But you two were meant to love each other, Remember?

A silent moan escapes your mouth as he crashes his lips into your own, the sound muffled by his. The kiss is filled with so much passion it could make one’s heart explode if you weren’t too careful, it felt like the two of you had been waiting years to do this.

Which you were.



After the first kiss, the two of you didn’t waste any time. Colby pulled you up, your legs wrapping around him as you continued to make out with the dark haired boy. His large hands cupped your ass, and soon enough you felt your back hit the cold wall. One of your hands were laid on the side of his neck while the other held the back of his hair, tugging on it slightly.

It had only been a few seconds ago you were sitting watching a movie—how in the hell did you both get here so quick?

He carried you to the couch, sitting down so you could straddle his lap instead of holding yourself up against his waist.

His hands release your ass and move up your back, slipping under your shirt to unclip your bra.

Colby smirks against your lips and removes his hand from your shirt, lifting your chin to pull away from the kiss. “Dirty girl” You hum as his lips attach to your neck, his comment making you all the more wet then you already were. You didn’t put a bra on—and Colby seemed to have really liked that you didn’t. “You make such pretty sounds—wish I could’ve heard them sooner”

You can feel the hardness under you, and the more you grind on him, the more you can feel his grip on you tighten. It didn’t hurt—it just turned you on even more.

“Colby, Please” You plead breathlessly. You wanted him to do more then just kiss your neck. You wanted him to take you to his room, to do everything he’d do to someone else. “You don’t have to be gentle with me” you tug his hair gently, meeting his lust filled eyes. You were desperate for him and you didn’t care, you’d waited since junior year to have your way with him—to have him want you.

“I’ll leave marks all over you, Y/N” he says in a slightly warning tone as if he didn’t want to completely destroy you in that moment, but you shake your head, grabbing his hand that slipped to the waistband of your sleeper shorts.

“I just want to feel something” You say in a tone he’d never heard you in before, one that made him want you even worse then before. You slip your hand off his own and place it on his chiseled chest, feeling the crease of his abs all the way down until you reached his belt. You wanted him, you just wanted him to know that. “I want to feel you, Colby. I want you”

“You want me to treat you like everyone else?” You hesitate but nod after a few seconds, slipping off his lap to stand to your feet. He stands in front of you, his height making a clear difference above you. His expression hadn’t changed yet, he was so hard to read. “I won’t do that, Y/N” Before you could say anything, he was already picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist again, crashing his lips back into yours as he made his way to his room.

This man… you didn’t know how to describe the feeling you had when he kissed you, but it was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. He was so different from everyone else you’d been with, and you didn’t know why.

You did. Deep down you knew why he made you feel the way he did. Colby was the only guy you truly wanted. Even when you had a boyfriend, you still wanted him instead.

He drops you onto his bed, removing his black wife beater and throwing it to the side, revealing his tattooed body you’ve grown to love looking at. He looked so good in this lighting, and the way his hair fell messy over his forehead—you couldn’t stop your thoughts from running wild.

“I want you, Y/N. I need to know I have all of you—that your only for me” You pick your head up to look at him briefly, fingers playing with the string of his pants. “I won’t treat you like some random slut when your not”

The feeling of his fingertips brushing against your skin made you shiver, it made you feel as if this might’ve not been real, maybe a dream after all. But after seeing his face and feeling his hand stop just above your waistline, everything felt at ease.

“I’ve always been yours, Colby Brock” That was all he needed to hear, all he needed to give into you.

And soon enough, here you were again, pinned against the bed while Colby’s hands grip your waist, peppering sweet kisses against your neck. You almost couldn't hold it in.

Your hand slowly found its way to the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair as his wandering hands went right under your shorts. You knew what you were doing with the outfit, and it only made him laugh just thinking about it.

“Please, Colby. I don’t want you to hold back… I want you to give me all of you” you were smirking to yourself, biting your nail like this was somewhat funny to you. Colby didn’t see the appeal, if he was going to fuck you, he was going to ruin you for anyone else.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N” He tells you with a sharp tone, moving to place his hands against the beds cloth, closing you between him. You smirk, looking him up and down once before looking back to his face.

“I’m tired of waiting” The two of you laid there, staring at the other for what felt like forever until He finally gave in, cursing himself under his breath before he grabbed your neck to pull you into a rough kiss. Your body is flush against his as he completely explores your body with his hands. You could feel his growing erection, you could feel his hunger for your body like he felt yours.

“Colby” You mumble in a breathless moan. His lips remove from yours and move to your jaw, hungrily peppering wet kisses down it, all the way to your neck.

“You are so fucking hot, Jesus” He groans against your ear, placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin. Your moans are what encourage him the most. Hearing your sweet whimpers in his ear as he sucked on your neck felt like a dream. Believe god, he’d had that dream many, many times before.

“I’ve waited so long for this” Your breathless under him, gripping his hair between your small fingers. You could feel his cock pressing against you, begging for your tongue. It was big—he was so fucking big. It should’ve scared you but you were more intrigued, grinding your hips against his to gain some friction with the little time you had before he stopped your bratty movements.

“I know you have” He teases and you only roll your eyes, grabbing his hand that held you steady against him. You could feel his lips brushing your skin, he wanted to mark you, and you wanted him to. You wanted Colby Brock to let everyone know you were his.

“Nothings stopping me from walking out that door” You hum, holding his head and slightly pushing it down so his lips reattached to your neck. “I’ll find someone else—someone who hasn’t played with me for years” A grunt escapes his mouth as if he had been fighting with the feeling, shaking his head between your neck before meeting your eyes again; your bratty, untamed eyes.

“You’ve waited so long I thought? So long your body even reacts when I look at you” He’s so obviously joking and you love every second of it. Every word of degradation is like music to your ears, like a forbidden kink you didn’t know you had. “This is what you wanted, huh? All those looks you’d give me after I’d make out with randoms—you were so jealous, Sweetheart” Your ears are perking at his every word but your eyes were filled with annoyance. Colby knew now so why would you hide it? Hide your jealousy? “All those times, you could’ve just told me you wanted me and I would’ve given it all to you. Nobody else”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling you closer to his body then before with a smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. I have you now” His eyes. Oh god, his eyes were so hungry. At first you didn’t know what to think but it only took you a few seconds to realize once his large arms were wrapped around your thighs, pulling your body close to him.

His chin sat against your stomach, staring up at you like he had been waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t know what he was planning until his thumb was ghosting around your clothed clit, that same smirk pulling at his lips as he watched you.

He slips your shorts off with ease, along with your black lace underwear, tossing them both to the side.

“Fuck” You breath heavily, leaning your head back against the sheets, not even realizing the boy under you was now fully under you. “S-shit!” Your hand fell clasp over your mouth to silence your moan, eyes falling back on him under you. Except now, his face was pressed into your dripping wet cunt, and his fingers teased what his mouth didn’t. “Fucking hell, Colby” You mumble under your unsteady breath, trying your hardest not to moan because he had just started and you didn’t want to seem weak.

But holy shit, this boy knew how to use his tongue.

Your hand fell atop his head in hopes to gain some sort of stability but that quickly failed, given how badly he was attacking your clit. His mouth was warm against you and you already knew you’d come soon. It was like he knew your body inside and out.

“I know your not holding back on me, are you?” His words vibrate against your cunt making you jolt, thankful his arms held you down so you wouldn’t squirm. Colby was in pure bliss under you, relishing in your sweet taste that so effortlessly painted his tongue. You were wet, your cunt was begging for more even if you were a crying mess above him, like it finally found what it had been longing for.

“I can take it” He chuckles at your attempt at retaliation but still manages to one up you, slipping two of his large, slender fingers inside you. “C-Colby, let me-“

“No” He only uttered one word but it was enough to make you listen like a trained dog, allowing your legs to tremble against his face. You could’ve taken it had you been prepared, but it had been far too long before any guy had done this to you.

“You taste so fucking good, Y/N” His fingers curl against your spongy walls, pushing his tongue against your clit quickly as your moan’s increased. It was so clear you were already on edge, about to let go without it being over five minutes. You find your pride slipping from you in a matter of seconds, begging the man to let you come as your fingers tug his hair. You couldn’t hold on, your legs were far too weak.

“Please, please—Colby, please” His ears are perking as you moan his name, begging for him, moaning for him. Normally, he’d take his time with you but now? He needed to release all that tension between the two of you from years ago, he knew he couldn’t last much longer. He needed to be inside of you, and for that exact reason is why he only sped up under you. “G-gonna come..!”

Your mind tried to come up with some sort of reason as to how you got yourself here, How you got your best friend between your legs, and definitely how you were about to fully submit yourself to this boy while your true feelings for each other were unknown. He was thinking the same thing; how did he get so lucky to have you above him?

“Let go for me, Pretty girl” In only seconds, you’re coming undone above him, legs almost falling weak as they shook from your release, sending shivers throughout your entire body. Colby’s still torturing your body, pumping his fingers into you at a faster pace. It was clear, he was trying to kill you.

“Colby!” You cry, gripping his hair with a begging tone. You couldn’t take it much longer. You had to push him away. Finally, after what felt like forever, he removed his tongue from you, letting his fingers slip from inside you. His strong arms are the only thing that held your legs still, and you could see your release painted on his chin once he looked up at you. “Holy shit” You curse under your breath, chest heaving as he stood to his feet. You look at the large man above you, noticing once again how he towers over you.

He bites his lip, admiring your perfect body that had been on almost full display for him. He leans down when you notice how hard he is, lifting your chin with the hand he hadn’t used on you.

You watch through your eyelashes as he sucks his finger clean from your release, biting his lip with a silent chuckle at how lovingly you looked at him. You grab his hand, pulling it closer to you until his other finger was pressed against your lips—to which you copied his action from before, staring into his dark eyes as you did.

“Good girl” He knew you liked that. It was so obvious—the way your legs clench together at his praise. He pulls his hand away and moves it to your neck, pressing a soft but sloppy kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself from him, and God… it was so fucking hot.

Your hand feels his body effortlessly until you reach his aching print, a small smile pulling at your lips against him.

“Let me” You mumble breathlessly, placing your hand over his cock. You could feel how desperate he had been for you, how badly he wanted you in that moment. His hand wraps around your throat firmly, pulling your lips to crash back into his own. He was so rough and impatient—you loved it.

“I need you. Right here, Right now” His voice is deep and makes your skin shiver, the way his hands touch you so delicately but with control. His room was slightly dark, only lit by the strip of LED’s above his bed frame.

“I want to be yours, Colby. Make me yours, please” Your words make his and your own stomach twist into knots, he almost felt bad. He waited so long to make the move, afraid he misread the signs, but he’d never admit that. You allow your hands to travel down his bare abs, feeling every chisel between the pads of your fingertips. When you reach his belt, you’re quick to help him tug his pants off, watching him with the most admiration.

“After we do this, everything will change” He looks at you once more, both of your hands laid on the waistband of his underwear. You lay your free hand on the side of his neck and use the other to touch him lower—right where he wanted you the entire time.

His breath shutters at your bare touch, something he’s wanted for so long was finally right in front of him. You were all he wanted and he prayed you ensue him just as much.

“I love you, Colby. There’s no change in that” You tell him truthfully, watching his eyes soften just before you pulled his face down to kiss his lips. Except this kiss had much more

meaning—the kiss after you’d admit your feelings for one another.

He leans you down, closing you between his large body and his bed, your hand is still pressed into his print, but he’s already slipping his underwear off by the time you can notice.

Fuck. He was going to ruin you.

Your hands cup his face when his tip presses against your entrance, slick coating it by the second. You wanted him for so long, you didn’t care if it hurt at first.

You just wanted him.

From the moment he pushed inside of you, the only feeling you could endure was love. He was slow, gentle to help you get used to his size. The boy peppers kisses to your neck as he pushed further, comforting your slightly pained moans that slip from your lips without warning.

“Mmm” You let out a soft moan once his tip is past your entrance, the hard part was now over. You look at him with your lips parted, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. He pushes your hair out of your face before kissing you, and you weren’t prepared for when he pushed into you fully with one snap of his hips.

Your toes curled and your nails dug into his skin desperately, the feeling was almost indescribable. You just felt… full.

“Oh my god” You moan against his lips, throwing your head back as he strokes you slowly, massaging your thigh. You looked so perfect like this, so pretty in this light. Your body was almost bare for him, and your body was welcoming him with open arms—he couldn’t get enough of you. “Colbs…Colby” one of your hands release his shoulder to grip the sheet underneath you, teeth catching your bottom lip between them.

“Starting to feel good?” He hums while you nod, moving his head down to your neck, placing sloppy kisses against it. His hips find a steady pace at first and gradually work their way up, starting deep, then fast to your skin. “God, you feel so good” one of his hands travels up your body until it reaches the shirt covering your upper half, just wanting to rip in off of you.

“Take it off, baby” Your breathless words are too late when he’s already slipping it off your now fully bare body, completely discarding it to the floor next to him. Jesus, you were so perfect.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N” He presses a kiss to your lips before moving down your body, trailing his wet tongue down until he reached your nipple. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, the curves of your body… you were practically made for him. A shuddered moan escapes your lips when he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, kneading the other with his free hand.

“Mmm!” Between the stokes of his hips and the sensations he brought to your skin, you couldn’t hold much in. You were sure you were being too loud but the two of you didn’t care. It was just you and him, nobody else.

His strong arms capture your thighs, pulling one of your legs to rest against his shoulder. “Colby! I can’t… oh my gosh” Your little voice is projecting off the walls of the empty room but you don’t care, only worried about the boy above you. Your head was still slightly spinning from the drinks you endured earlier that night and it only mixed with your horny mess of a body, begging Colby for more. “It’s so good… fuck! You’re so fucking good!”

“Look at you. Such a fucking mess under me. You needed me just as much as I needed you” He grabs the back of your head, pulling you up slightly so you were at an angle you couldn’t look away from him. His big eyes were burning holes into your own, hips rutting into you like he had something to prove.

Which he did.

“Gonna come…! Colby, I’m gonna come!” Your a whining mess under him and he loves every second of it, pushing his hips into you faster then before. Your small body was like a toy in his hand and you were at his every command, doing everything he said.

“Come for me. Want you to scream my name so the whole neighborhood knows who’s fucking you this good—so ever man knows your mine” You knew it was a bad idea but who were you to decline that request? You were already screaming as it was. “My dirty girl, Your so fucking hot like this”

“I’m coming! I’m—oh my god I-“ Your voice is cut off by your loud moan, leg shuttering against his shoulder as you felt your release threatening to push over. His tip was kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer. “Colby…!” You cry out, pressing your hand to his chest as if that was going to do anything. Your orgasm finally tipped, and you felt it hit you like a truck.

“That’s it, Baby. Good girl” His thumb rubs circles against your clit as he ruts into your harder, watching your liquid spurt from between the two of you. “My god, Y/N. So fucking good for me”

“Colby… please—Jesus-“

“You can whine all you want, but your body is calling mine for more. You want more” You grip his large arms until your knuckles turn white, scratching along his tanned skin. You curse at him, not wanting to hear his teasing any longer. “Fuck me? I’m only giving you what you want” You look at him with an angry look for a second before completely switching, a smirk pulling at your lips. Jesus, you were nasty, huh?

He pulls out of you all at once making you whine, not able to protest before he’s already flipping you over onto your stomach and pushing your ass in the air. You giggle, stretching your arms in front of you as you arch your back against him, begging him to forgive you. “I was only joking, Pretty boy” You hum, looking back at his face.

He doesn’t say anything and grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back onto his length that so easily slipped inside of you. Your eyes roll back almost instantly as he bottoms you out, pushing his cock as deep as he could reach inside you. “This is what you wanted? Then fucking take it” He growls against your ear, slamming himself into your harder than he had been before. You couldn’t even think straight, you were already so fucked out you didn’t even remember what it felt like to not be fucked.

“fuck! Right there! Please, Colby—fuck me right there!” Your begging voice is music to his ears, your hands gripping the ground under you as he pushed himself against you. “You’re so deep… so fucking good to me, baby” He hums, leaning against your body so you were entirely pressing against him, his tongue running along your skin. Once again, you could feel his sloppy kisses against your shoulder and your neck.

“Nobody can fuck you like I can, Pretty girl. Your mine. You’re all fucking mine, you hear me?” You cry out a yes, the sound of your skin slapping against each others being the only thing that could be heard. “That’s it, just like that, my love” He praises against your ear, holding your hips to press into his.

“Colby, I’m gonna come… oh my god” You whine into the sheet, feeling the pressure building up fast inside you. He’s a grunting mess above you so you knew he was close as well, he was only holding out for you. “Come with me. Please, don’t hold out on me”

The snap of his hips slow down the closer he gets, and now your body is flush against his own, rocking back and forth to his pace with his face buried in your neck.

“I fucking love you, Y/N. My girl, come for me and only me, yeah?” You moan at his words, throwing your head back against his chest as his fingers circle your sensitive clit. you couldn’t hold it anymore, and neither could he. “I’m right behind you”

Drunk sex always felt way too good but usually it was faster and much sweatier, this felt far too different. Even if your hips moved fast against his, it still felt like everything had been in slow motion. The way his hands held your delicate body in his embrace as he thrust his hips up to meet your own, how his lips parted in anticipation to kiss yours, Colby was so hungry for you—his body, was hungry for you.

“Colby… Colby!” His name rolls off your tongue in a beautiful moan. You can feel his slight hesitance but the eyes you give him are enough to tell him exactly what you wanted. You wanted all of him, just as you said.

“Fuck…!” He curses under his breath, your moans filling his ears as you clenched down onto him. He continues to coach you to it, and with one last snap of his hips and circle to your clit, you felt your body release it’s everything onto his. He shushes your loud scream while silencing his own grunts, fingers digging into your hips to pull you close, painting your gummy walls with his white, hot release.

For awhile, All that was heard was your heavy breathing and the sounds of the tv in the other room, and you soon found yourself collapsed next to each other on the bed. Your chests were heaving horribly, and the sweat that drip from your foreheads were now everywhere. You look over at the boy next to you, only to find he had already been looking at you, both of you breathing heavy—lips parted.

It only took a second for one of you to start laughing, and Colby leaned over to kiss you again, this time staying there for the longest he could.

You hum as he pulls away just a tiny bit, still close to your face. Your eyes are shut, relishing in the feeling you had. How do you go on from this? Clearly you two loved each other, but you prayed it wouldn’t be weird…

“Come here” He lays his arm out, pulling your body closer to his so you could lay your head against his chest. The room was hot and smelled of pure sex but neither of you complained. You were just happy.

“Colby…” You mumble after awhile in silence, tracing the tattoo on his chest for the 2nd time. He hums in response, the tips of his fingers brushing through your soft hair. You almost feel bad, as if you’re about to ruin the amazing night you had—but you had to say it. “Where do we go from here..?”

Your voice is low and nervous, so focused on the negative that you couldn’t even see the obvious answer. Colby made it clear what he wanted. He couldn’t go back to normal with you—not after this night.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N. I’ve always wanted that” He pushes your hair away from your face, placing his finger under your chin to lift it. “Please tell me that’s what you want too”

Your eyes soften at his hesitant tone, grabbing the hand that sat under your chin to intertwine your fingers. Of course you wanted that. It was all you ever wanted.

You nod

“Sam is going to be so happy���

Just a little something different 😉. See y’all whenever :))

#sam golbach #sam and colby #sam and colby smut #sam and colby fanfiction #colby brock #colby brock smut #colby brock fluff #colby brock angst #sam golbach smut #sam golbach fanfic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby x reader #Colby x reader smut #colby brock x reader #youtuber #smut #best friends #friend to lovers

[starillusion13]

Hi!!! can I request a poly pirate ateez x reader fic? they chose another girl over her and betray her but they regret and chase her back but the reader doesn’t forgive so easily

Pirate’s Heart

Pairing: Ateez! ot8 x fem! reader

• Genre: Angst, Pirate, Mature

• Warnings: crying, misunderstanding, betrayal, choosing someone else, trusting a stranger, false accusations, lies [plz tell me if I have missed something] also oc doesn't forgive easily coz they chose someone else. Come on bfr, I’m searching for you girl.

• W.C: 5k (it’s not how I thought it to be)

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. I tried to put more emotions into it but still I know it’s not how I wanted. I don’t know what to add more into this.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Eight men laughing all around the room and a girl sulking in the corner, sitting on a wooden stool beside the youngest man among them. he pats her back and trying to hold back his laughter.

“Mina…it’s okay.”

“No! you all betrayed me yesterday and I was alone roaming around the market.”

Jongho looks over at the captain who is grinning widely across from the old wooden table when he spoke up, “we were just busy with some things of ours.”

“Things?” she whines, “you all were trying to find her. Why? She can find her way back to the ship.”

You hiss to her words and mentally scoff from outside the room. But the surprising fact is that. They followed you? You don’t think that something about you even matter to them. Maybe, they don’t care if you had been attacked by their enemy. They were only following you to keep an eye, if you are not betraying behind their back.

“and you could have flirted more.” You mutter under your breath.

You hear captain’s voice and your feet scoot closer towards the dark wooden door. Tears pooling in your eyes. When was the last time he laughed with you? Or any of them spent a little time with you?

“That’s not true. You are familiar to this place but she has never been to here.” The captain stated and Seonghwa nods slowly which made her scowl.

I shouldn’t have ever stepped to this place. Your life has become upside-down after stepping a foot on this land and then suddenly Mina stumbling in your way. You still hate this from last year when she snatched your lovers.

“still…” she whines and you cringe at her tone. Yunho got up and cups her cheek, “next time, we will go to the market with you. Promise.” He brings a grape to her lips and she happily eat it. They all cooed and laughed at her cuteness.

Their laughs pierced your heart which made the tears flow down your cheeks and so you ran away from the door---behind which lies a lot of secrets.

It sounds like you're feeling hurt or disappointed because someone you liked chose someone else over you. This is really tough to deal with. It's important to remember that everyone has their own preferences and reasons for making choices, and it doesn't necessarily reflect on your worth as a person but it's not caused by some certain person.

It's about your lovers. The eight pirates who once vowed to give you a family, the love you deserve and pledged their loyalty towards you.

But now, it’s all gone.

They have turned their back to you, never glancing at the most treasured gem of theirs---their heart.

Their Y/n.

Their only Aurora.

>>>> <<<<

In the azure expanse of the Sea, where the sun dancing upon the waves like golden fire and the salty breeze whispering secrets of the deep, there you stood upon the deck of the ship. The locks swaying with the light wind and your eyes closed, facing towards the sun.

Once where existed—a tale of love. Now, it’s all about betrayal and redemption, woven amidst the tumultuous seas and treacherous shores.

In the heart of the sea, you have always dreamed of adventure beyond the horizon, of a life filled with excitement and romance. Even if you stood in front of the danger, you had a smile adorning your face with the strong belief that you have the most powerful and fearful pirates of the sea with you and nothing can ever put you nine down.

 But all the hopes are gone now.

Little did you know in your childhood that your destiny would intertwine with that of eight notorious pirates whose names echoed through the taverns and harbors of the sea --- The Ateez.

Led by their enigmatic captain, Kim Hongjoong was feared and revered in equal measure, their ship, the Blue Bird, striking fear into the hearts of merchants and sailors alike.

But beneath their fearsome exterior lay hearts yearning for something more—a love that transcended the boundaries of the sea. Your love.

It was on a moonlit night, with the stars twinkling like diamonds in the sky, when your path first crossed with that of the Ateez. As you walked along the deserted shores of Halazia, your thoughts lost in the gentle rhythm of the waves, you stumbled upon a sight that would change your life forever.

There, stranded upon the sands, lay a man---a pirate surrounded by seven other figures, his clothes torn and his face etched with pain. Without hesitation, you rushed to his side, heart racing with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

To your surprise, the man stirred, his eyes flickering open to reveal a gaze as deep and mysterious as the ocean itself. It was none other than Captain Hongjoong, his aura of danger and intrigue drawing you like a moth to a flame.

“People fear me a lot but I don’t want you to fear me. I’m not scared to lose anything but you.”

In that moment, amidst the crashing waves and the swirling mist, a connection sparked between you both—a connection that defied reason and logic, binding your fates together in ways you could never have imagined. His sea brothers, whom he gathered and grew up together with from the beginning pledged their loyalty to you.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, you found yourself drawn deeper into the world of the pirate Ateez, your bond with Captain and the crew growing stronger with each passing day. Seonghwa, the Quatermaster was always the one to accompany you whenever the captain was not around and the bonding grew into more intimate. His soft and comforting smile with the warmth of his skin against yours was enough for you to feel at home.

“love, we will always run to each other if we feel threatened. Your love is the strongest weapon to me.” He said and smiled down at you in his arms.

The cook who was also the head Rigger, Wooyoung was the playful menace of the crew and even though, you felt scared by others, he would be the one to grab your hand and run away to the vast fields or cuddling with each other on top, the crowsnest. Sometimes, the surgeon of the ship, Yeosang would also tag along with you both.

“I never had more fun spending time here but with you, I don’t want this to end any day.” You smiled towards the Rigger and nodded.

The surgeon planted his feet on the wood and left the rope’s grip, “I should agree too. Nothing can cure me more than your love, Y/n.”

You feared the first mate and the pilot, Yunho. His intimidating stare and the fire glinting in his eyes with a flick of curiosity to know if you were a stowaway on the ship made him distant with you but once when you risked your life for his. He became determined since that day that he would be the one in charge for your safety.

“I can risk everything to save you, pearl. You are the precious gem to me.” he cups your cheek before placing a kiss on your lips.

Mingi, the gunner was always the one to approach you with a welcoming aura but the weapons with him scared you at first. Eventually, when you spent nights with him, sharing deepest secrets, he knew your heart has been kept safe with him.

“you made me feel emotions which I didn’t know I could ever feel. Thank you, y/n.”

Jongho, the sailing master. You have watched him from afar while spending time with others but never once tried to approach him because of his cold appearance. You doubted his personality whenever you had caught a glimpse of his gummy smile. Once, when he was directing the other mates on the ship, you found out that Yeosang was also the navigator of the cabin crew. Yunho would always be with these two to ensure the perfect course of the journey.

“Jongho…you must be tired.” Your concerned voice made him smile towards you.

“never. I can’t ever be tired when I’m with you. You are my greatest strength.”

In the end, San, the striker and helmsman was the one who gave you the warmth in the ocean of coldness. His piercing eyes following each and every movement of yours around the ship was enough to feel you under watch. He was always hiding behind the darkness but one day when you risked your life for them, he stood under the spotlight to kill every individual who pointed their swords at you, even a single finger.

“even if I look back for once, I would look back at you before killing everyone who dared to point a finger.” He hugged you tighter.

He was the last one to fall in love with you but first one to accuse you. The days can’t be always be smooth and peaceful, just like the waves in the sea bed. Once, its silent then in the next moment it would be a roaring storm thrashing around.

Similarly, lurking in the shadows of your burgeoning romance was a darkness that threatened to tear you apart—a darkness in the form of another woman.

Driven by jealousy and vengeance, Mina vowed to destroy everything the Ateez held dear, starting with their heart--- you. And so, with her wiles and charms, she ensnared the affections of the eight pirates who had once pledged their love and loyalty to you.

One by one, they fell under her spell, their emotions wavering in the face of Mina's deceit. And though you fought with all her strength to reclaim their love, your efforts were in vain, for the pirates had chosen someone else—a betrayal that cut deeper than any sword.

>>>> <<<<

But, one fateful day, as you stood upon the deck of the pirate ship bound for distant lands, a familiar sight caught your eye—a merchant’s ship, its sails billowing in the wind, its bow cutting through the waves like a knife through butter.

“y/n…what are you doing?”

His voice made you flinch but still your attention on the merchant ship in distance didn’t waver. You gripped the railing tightly to fight back the weakness in front of him. his heavy boots hit against the wooden plank and the creaking sounds made shiver run down your skin.

When was the last time he called your name?

“I don’t know where she is. Go ask others.” Your reply was cold and he nodded to himself before stepping closer. As the two ships drew closer, your eyes followed the waves when you suddenly turned around and glared, “stop right there.”

He stopped in his track.

You felt a surge of emotions coursing through your veins—fear, anger, longing. But above all else, there was hope—a glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, the tides of fate had finally turned in your favour.

No one has ever dared to command anything to the captain except Seonghwa. Maybe you as well. As if by some twist of fate, today Captain has appeared before you, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You stood on your spot strong, with the fire in your eyes towards him.

"Y/n" he said, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the depths of your soul. "I am asking about you not her."

For a moment, you were speechless, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening. Could it be true? Could he still harbor feelings for you after all this time?

“because you can’t find her anywhere and thinking it’s something has to do with me.” your emotionless tone was pinching his skin. He licked his lips, staring at you with a hope to listen your sweet words. Your eyes wandered around and you felt odd. No one was in the sight and the ship was undoubtedly quiet. But when your eyes landed on the round stairs from the master cabin, you saw other seven figures descending down towards the plank where you stood with the captain.

Before you could formulate a response, Hongjoong took your hand in his, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. "I know I have wronged you, y/n" he said, his eyes brimming with sincerity.

Why is he suddenly saying all these?

You snatched your hand from his grip and glared, the same look you sent towards the others when they approached near, “Why are you all here?” you again looked around, you leaned forward towards the railing to peek below, “where are the men and other workers? What’s going on?”

Seonghwa stood closer than others, “we sent them to collect all our necessary items for the journey.”

“Journey?”

“tomorrow before the dawn, we are leaving for Utopia.”

“and where is she?”

This time Wooyoung spoke up, “that’s something about which we are here to talk with you.”

“I don’t know anything about her.”

Even if you wanted to look strong yet you felt so weak under their heavy gazes. All their stares after so many months feeling so unfamiliar and strange. The last time when you had all their gazes on you was when you pointed Mina’s reason to be with you and they accused you of jealousy. They referred you as a child wanting to have their attention, being selfish with others. They said that you don’t have a little feeling towards a girl who seems like a sister.

More like an evil sister, who was there to ruin your family.

“of course you don’t know, y/n.” Wooyoung said softly but you scoffed, “then?”

“We did wrong for not believing you.” Seonghwa’s voice was soft, just a pitch higher than the whisper.

“why? She didn’t agree to sleep with you all?” you smirked, throwing a dirty look towards them.

“Y/n!” Hongjoong’s stern voice made you flinch. His clenched jaw and tight fist, the anger building inside him at your words. But you continued to fuel the fire of anger.

“do you want me to convince her for this? Just to let you know,  I can’t.”

“what are you saying? Why are you thinking of us like this?” Yunho asked you but deep down, he asked it to himself as well. He knew the reasons very well. He knew you were hurt for their deeds but he thought you will understand their ends.

“really? You are asking me this. So what else do you want me to think? That tomorrow morning, when we will be in the bed of the sea and with the best opportunity, you will throw me into the waters.” 

“What are you saying?” Yeosang’s low voice made you glance at him and his orbs searched for a little softness in you. The scene unfolding in front of him was so unusual. Basically, pirates should be the ones with emotionless and rough appearance but here they were asking helplessly from a mere girl.

Mere? No.

From their love. Their heart.

“where is she?” you asked again.

“in the brig.” You raised your brow at Hongjoong’s words. Why is she there? What did she do? Or are they here to take you to lock you up there? goosebumps appeared on your skin but it was hidden under the sleeves of the shirt. Your mind racing with the thought that now how has she accused you guilty this time that they all are here to escort you to the brig.

“I-I haven’t done a-anything.” Your voice broke and you turned around to face the sea.

Whenever you felt suffocated, your feet move on its own to stand at the edge of the quarter deck and inhale the scent of freedom. The village life was so harsh to you and after these pirates took you in with them for the long journey, you felt as if you have started a new life. A new dream with a new life beyond the horizon but last year, they turned their back at you. Leaving you behind all alone.

Seonghwa hugged your shaking body from behind, “hsshh love why are you scared?”

He made himself turned around with you in his hold, making you face them. You looked down to hide the falling tears of fear.

“what happened?” Hongjoong held your chin up to stare in your eyes. Your scared pupils reflecting the hurt and loneliness.

“I will serve you well, masters. But please don’t take me to the brig. I have no where else to go but please don’t end my life.” You wiggled under the oldest one’s hold but he held you tighter. He knew very well that if he lets you go, you would probably run away and won’t talk to them.

“Masters?” San was confused with your tone like others and the way you were addressing them. “why are you calling us this? And we are not taking you anywhere. We are here to…apologize.”

Your raging yet scared eyes stared at him, “apologize? For what? You have already given up on me. you all left me alone for…. For that girl. Calling me selfish because I wanted my lovers away from an outsider. Blaming me for every little mishap caused to her. Trusting the false accusations against me.”

You again tried to break free when he gripped your arms tighter, “stay still. You are not going anywhere unless we are done speaking with each other.”

“I don’t want to talk with you all.” But deep down you want to talk to them. Shout at them. You want to look at them longer, feel the warmth in their embrace. You want to feel their love for you again. If there’s still any feelings left for you.

“y/n…we didn’t give up on you for her.” Jongho spoke up and looked over his brothers. He realized how they have messed up the relationship for these past months because the new girl really lured them into trusting the lies but in the end, Yeosang really found out her real intentions behind all this.

“Yeosang found out that she befriended us to destroy us.” Mingi said and nodded along with Yeosang. The surgeon sat on the wooden drum and leaned forward, “she lied to us that she stays alone here. She has been sent from our enemy.”

“but still you all trusted her once. You all believed when she said I’m related to the captain Chan. You all even kept watch on me to see if I’m betraying you all.” You hissed and stepped forward when you felt the grip loosened around you. You glared back at him and walked towards the stool beside the boxes and sat on it. Wooyoung was standing closer to you.

Tears fell from his eyes when he saw your figure tired and lonely. They really kept themselves so busy to even take a little look at you in all these months.

“we are really sorry for that, y/n.” Hongjoong apologized and glanced at others.

“speak for yourself.” You rubbed your eyes and wiped the tears from the cheek, “I don’t think each of you is feeling the same.”

“No, it’s true. We are really sorry.” Seonghwa supported the captain’s words. Wooyoung slide down against the boxes and leaned back, “we shouldn’t have doubted you.”

Yunho folded his hands in front. Standing in front of you, looking the perfect pilot of the ship but somewhere a sense of betray reflecting from him. He shook his head, “I don’t know how we trusted her everything and didn’t believe you. I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are hurt, y/n. but please forgive us.” Yeosang stood beside Wooyoung and both of them eagerly waiting for your response.

“You all made me feel like a stowaway in my---your ship. I felt like an enemy lurking around you. You all were spending so much time with her. Your gazes were filled with love and admiration while looking at her but whenever your eyes fell on me, there was visible fire of hatred. It hurt me. I felt like to run away far from you. But I didn’t know where to.”

“This is also your ship. You are the aurora in the night sky for our journey.” San stated and smiled but it quickly disappeared when he saw your teary eyes looking back at him.

Mingi placed his elbow on top of a drum and leaned to his side, “you aren’t a stowaway. You are a part of the family. You are more than that. You are our heart, y/n.”

“didn’t you feel your heart ache while believing a liar and laughing with her despite my presence just near you?” you shot an angry look towards him.

Jongho stepped forward and stood beside the captain, “we are really guilty. Please give us a chance to prove that our love has not wavered.”

You bitterly chuckled, “Love?……pirate’s only love is their desire to sail free all around the sea with their conquered treasure.”

“And, you are our treasure, and our only desire is to be with you.” Wooyoung said it loudly, earning everyone’s attention on him. he flinched when he saw your intense gaze on him. He wanted to hold your hand run to the crows-nest and hug you tightly, promising everything to protect you and to never betray you.

“Where do you go every afternoon for these last few months?” Yunho’s question perked everyone’s ear, even yours. He noticed? Their curious gazes on you made you shift in your place.

“You don’t have to know about it.”

“y/n…please do let us know if you are in any danger.” Jongho asked you politely. You shook your head and looked to your side, avoiding their eyes. You didn’t notice when San came in front and kneeling. “Please, tell me.”

You casted a glance at him then to others before looking at your hands, “I was planning to run away with a help of a friend.”

“Run away with a friend?”

“His name is Ten. You all were busy ignoring me all these months…almost a year. He is a sailor and we met at a fortune teller shop. He offered me a helping hand to have a life on my own.”

San was shocked, “you trusted him?”

You nodded, “like you all trusted her. I have heard from others and they all were praising him. He is a good person. He listened to my stories every day, he showed me around the place, laughed with me, taught me new things……he spent time with me.” you paused and nodded to yourself before continuing, “maybe I’m selfish…I’m selfish because I want you all to myself. I felt jealous seeing you with her. Or maybe I should have open myself to others, should let myself to make more friends so that even if you think of leaving me one day. I should not feel hopeless but can continue my life ahead. Not beyond the horizon but beyond those mountains and low valleys.”

“Y/n…don’t leave us like this.” Wooyoung scooted towards you and the captain and quartermaster stepped closer, followed by others. They were surrounding you and you were sitting like a helpless one under their shadows.

“and why? How can I trust that you all will not accuse me of betraying again?”

Hongjoong glance at Seonghwa before stating, “if you leave us then we will be scattered, y/n.”

“and what about me? you all already made my feelings shattered when you all chose her over me because she proved me as a liar with some fake evidence. You all broke your own rules.”

Don’t trust a lie and never betray your family. --- their only rule.

Yeosang shook his head, “no, y/n. it won’t happen again.” Mingi nodded when agreeing with him. the scenario can’t be ever believed that the notorious group of pirates are helplessly asking forgiveness to you.

Before Yunho could speak whatever he was going to, you spoke up making him shut, “I really loved you all. When I promised not to betray you, I meant it. Even if you kill me someday, I will still have a belief that you are the only family I ever got in my life.”

“Y/n…”San whispered your name not to show his weak voice. 

“Are you not leaving us, right?” Mingi asked you when you stood up.

“I don’t know but I’m going to meet him now.” You placed your fingers over the belt to feel the knife well hidden underneath it. Hongjoong held your elbow stopping you from walking further, “you are not going anywhere.”

“And you are no one to tell me anything.” You jerked off his hand.

Yunho blocked your way when you turned towards the gangway. You shot him a glare but he returned the similar gaze directed to your soul, “don’t be stubborn. We are leaving tomorrow and don’t go anywhere today. We have to deal with Mina---”

“don’t say her name in-front of me!” you grabbed his coat and clenched your jaw. His hand moved up to cup your cheek but you swatted it away. “don’t touch me.” you pushed him aside. They watched how you stumbled a little while walking down the gangway and jumped to the shore from the last step. Seonghwa signalled something towards San and the latter nodded before following behind you.         

And in that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle overhead, they knew that you had a choice to make—a choice between holding onto the pain of the betrayal or embracing the promise of a future filled with love and redemption.

You stopped in your track before entering the market, heart soaring with the knowledge that true love conquers all—even the darkest depths of the sea. And your true love really pulled them towards you again.

For in the end, it is not the storms or the tempests that define their journey, but rather the unwavering belief that no matter how far they may drift apart, they will always find their way back to each other, guided by the light of love that burns eternal in the darkness. And so, as the waves carry them toward new horizons and unknown shores, embark on a voyage of discovery—one filled with adventure, passion, and the promise of a love that will endure for all eternity.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn [open!]

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez pirate au #pirate ateez #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez ff #ateez angst #ateez poly #poly ateez #poly ateez x reader

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄?

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the grace of the sword and the stage come together as the strawhats' swordsman and dancer fall in love.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!dancer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, reader is a ballerina, mention of alcohol, abusive employer near the beginning, not beta read

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: la seine

the first time he saw you, he was in denial of the fact that he was, once again, lost.

it wasn't his fault! nami ditched him in favor of viewing the rows and rows of stalls featuring all sorts of glittering jewels, and before he knew it, zoro was at a loss on where he was.

choosing to wander till he found something familiar to guide him back to the ship, he was drawn to the sweet sound of laughter, clinking glass, and soft music.

without looking up to read the sign hanging over the boisterously decorated building taking up most of the left side of the street. it was probably just a bar anyway.

so he slipped inside, meaning to find a place at a counter to order a drink, when he found himself running into a podium and faced with a woman in a suit, her expression sultry as she said, "here for the last show?"

Zoro blinked down at her, lips parting. He wasn't about to let her make him look stupid, so he settled her with a stern glower and nodded.

"You're just in luck," she purred. "We've got one last seat, and you're just in time to see our principal lady."

"Right," he nodded once more and, after casting a look at the enticing exit, turned back to the hostess. "You've got booze?"

Her smile glimmered. "Just ask and ye shall receive. We have an assortment of liquors here at Le Palais de Cerise!"

Zoro followed her down a dim hallway into an even dimmer grand room. It looked something like an opera hall, with tiered rows of half-moon booths each facing a large stage.

Blue lighting shined from lanterns hung on the ceiling, casting the place in an eerie yet mystifying glow. All around the booths and tables were occupied by guests dressed much finer than Zoro, sipping on glasses of fine wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres.

The hostess brandished an arm as she showed him to a smaller booth at the very edge of the third tier away from the stage, closer to the center aisle running between two halves of the room. It was a pretty good view, nearly right in the middle of the stage.

"Thanks," he muttered distractedly, slipping into the booth and slouching instantly. "Get me a bottle of sake, yeah?"

The woman grinned widely before turning her back, her smile falling into a sneer. Now alone, Zoro got comfortable on the cushion of the seat, deciding this place wasn't too bad of a napping spot, when the lights brightening the stage faded to black.

Violins and flutes started to sing from a pit around the edge of the stage, coming alive as all conversation died out. Zoro stiffened, shifting to sit up right as his hands fell to his swords at his side.

"I hear it's her last show," sighed a young man to his friend at the neighboring booth. "We're insanely lucky."

Zoro's eyes adjusted to the dark just as a spotlight shone down on the parting ruby curtain, and out came a dozen girls dressed as the petals of a flower, twirling on the very tips of their toes. Instantly, Zoro was fascinated.

How they hopped around and danced like that without breaking something, he hadn't a clue. Zoro was on the edge of his seat before he really realized it, and barely made a sound of acknowledgement when a bottle of sake was placed beside him.

He came back to reality long enough to take a long drink, yet when his gaze returned to the stage, the music tingled to a suspenseful, drawn out theme. The flower petals stood in two diagonals forming a V and arced their arms around to present whatever was approaching.

From the left of the stage rushed a woman donned in a dress of dark red, the skirt branching out at her waist and barely dipping with each of her movements. Her bodice was lined with black and gold lace leading up to a sweetheart neckline. Not a hair on her head was out of place. Her every movement had a purpose.

The ballerina was perfection on earth. Zoro nearly wanted to remove his gaze from her, lest he taint this apparent angel.

She nearly floated with how she glided her feet, coming to a graceful halt at center stage, at the peak of the petals' V, and presented her arms as if to say here I am!

All around the audience applauded her for her presence alone, and Zoro found himself lazily meeting his palms together as well.

The music swelled as she extended her arms to cross and pointed out a toe, hopping forward as her arms gradually lifted over her head, before she leapt into an arabesque and pattered across the stage.

Behind her, the V of petals crossed the stage to the opposite side they were on, halting in unison on a tall and extended pique.

The main ballerina continued to glide this way and that, commanding the entire room, no fault in her every twirl, leap, and scurry.

Throughout the entire performance, Zoro watched dutifully, his attention never once departing from you.

And upon the stage, with the blinding lights casting the audience in a gray shadow, you swore you felt something tangibly heavy in the way they looked at you now, though you couldn't place a finger on why.

You only knew that when the music climaxed and faltered, and the curtain lowered on you and your friends, that as the lights grew dim, you caught sight of someone leaving the theater, a set of swords glinting at their side.

It was no surprise when flowers upon flowers arrived at your little room near the back of the theater.

You were known across the city and ones around it for your grace. People came from every which way to watch you dance the same dances, on the same stage, with the same people night after night after night.

You were bored, to say the least.

For ages, you ached for the thrill dance had once brought you. To not know every move by heart, to have something to learn rather than perform out of mere memory.

You missed what it was like to make mistakes, because they made success all the more sweet.

It was why that night was your last performance at Le Palais de Cerise. The next day, you would set sail with a family of merchants you'd met the week prior, and visit lands you'd only ever dreamed of.

Hopefully, some day, you'd find the thrill once again.

But there was Madame Cerise to think of, the owner of the theater hall, and she was not so ready to let her prized ballerina slip away.

"It would be a shame," she said to her brutish son, "if our dear angel was robbed of all her money. How would she pay for escape then?"

Zoro wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd like to be, but he didn't really need the alcohol anymore. Not when all he could think of was how the hell those dancers didn't break their toes.

Looking left and right, ensuring no one was out on the streets with him, he attempted to balance himself on the very tip of his boots, immediately teetering forward and nearly twisting his ankle.

He spit out a curse, pushing back his shoulders only to slump forward again and trudge down the street. The streetlamps flickered here and there, the night breeze chilling his bare arms.

"Stop! Stop, please!"

Zoro whipped around, eyes peeled, and zeroed in on the alleyway ahead to his right. The pleading voice echoed as three burly shadows tripped and stumbled out onto the street, sprinting away.

He was halfway into a pursuit when he caught the tell-tale sound of crying. Faltering to a stop just outside the mouth of the alley, he made out the silhouette of someone in a crumbled heap on the ground.

You glanced up from cradling your skinned and burning palms to your chest, hiccuping. Finding yet another shadow lurking there, you bit back, "I've got nothing left! Run back to Cerise, you--you mutt!"

Well, that didn't exactly make him want to help you, but then, in the dim lamplight, he saw through your tear stained face and found the ballerina who'd enchanted him an hour before.

He didn't know what to do, feeling odd with an unsheathed sword in hand as you glared at him, awaiting his next move. Zoro cleared his throat. "You... danced nice."

You eyes flickered all over him before you broke into yet another round of sobs, somehow managing through it, "Yeah, and I'll be dancing nicely till I'm old and wrinkly and dead. Ugh!"

Clawing at your arms, mumbling more to yourself, "I'm such a fool... Why did I think she'd let me go..."

You were too caught up in picturing the rest of your mundane life to realize Zoro was approaching you, only jerking away from him when he knelt in front of you.

His sword was back in its scabbard, and despite the scar over his eye, the other one was nearly soft. But there was nothing soft in the way he asked you, "Who won't let you go?"

A long story short, le palais de cerise went up in flames a few days after, and you found yourself sailing away not only with the promise of adventure, but with the promise of friendship.

and the hint of something more, judging from how zoro acted around you.

It was comical, really. Once, the swordsman had been a wall of stoicism, never to be toppled. And now this woman with all the grace and poise of a swan comes in, and he’s toppled like a feather in the wind.

Not that the others would complain; he wasn’t so grouchy when you were near, the tautness in his brows softening at the very sound of your voice.

Nami and Robin often teased you about Zoro's little crush, and you never paid them any mind—you’d think twice before admitting to having a soft spot for your crewmate.

Still, it was obvious something was there.

He always tended to be near you whenever he wasn’t training or asleep. Whether you were sitting around reading, or listening to music on a gramophone Nami may or may not have stolen for you, Zoro was likely to be there, laying at your side, content with the company.

You never failed to save him a seat at breakfast, waiting even when the others got up to start working, knowing Zoro would walk in later than the rest all grumpy and tired.

Zoro stood at your side like some kind of guard dog, especially when outside the safety of the ship.

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t look after yourself! It’s just, well, you can’t exactly fight.

“So teach me,” you snapped back, not appreciating being treated like glass.

Zoro sputtered, unsure if you’re serious, and promptly sets down his fork in favor of matching your stare from across the table.

Before he could say anything, Robin stood to put up her plate and said, “That’s a good idea. Everyone should be able to defend themself.”

You could have kissed her, grinning as she winked and wandered off. 

“You don’t need to,” Zoro blurted. 

Nami smirked as she took a sip of her water. “Why’s that?”

His reply was instant. “I’ll protect you.”

Your cheeks warmed. “That’s sweet, but you won’t always be there.”

He glared at the prospect, as if to say watch me. 

“If Marimo refuses, I would love to teach you, darling—”

“Shut up!” Zoro faced you, narrowing his eyes at the little smile you gave him. “We start tomorrow.”

Snickering, you lurched forth and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, jumping to your feet before he could even register what had happened. “Thanks, Zo!”

Whilst you made a hasty exit and Sanji started to yell at Zoro, Nami couldn’t help her excited gape as she locked eyes with Robin. The dark haired woman grinned cheekily, watching Zoro stare blankly into space. 

“She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

Zoro did not go easy on you, and you didn’t exactly mind too much. 

You wanted to get better. That was the only reason you were out here, in the blazing sun, watching Zoro’s chest as it heaved underneath his thin shirt.

Okay, maybe not the only reason. But the main one was definitely learning to protect yourself! 

You learned quickly, sometimes even beating Zoro out on the deck in the morning, purely excited at the chance to train with him.

He had wandered into the girls room to get you, only to be confused when all he found was Nami yelling at him to get out. 

And when he saw you practicing your form with the sword he’d bought with you on that last island. 

Zoro knew you were graceful. He’d seen it the first time he ever saw you. Grace was a word so wrapped up in his view of you. 

But fuck—you were anyting but graceful with a sword. 

Each of your movements were stiff and rigid and sharp. How hadn’t he noticed it before?

So he came up and, without really thinking, reached around to grab your wrist, taking your elbow in his other hand, caging you between his arms. 

You’re not quite sure how you didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

Only after your eyes met did Zoro realize the predicament he’d gotten himself into—and promptly sprang away from you, complimenting how fast you caught on and beelining back into the ship.

You weren’t sure you could take much more of that. Not before you acted on one of your many urges to kiss him senseless.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer.

So long of the crew’s teasing, slight grazes of the hand, and longing stares all led up to one night aboard the ship, lost in the music and sea breeze.

Zoro had been trying to take another sip of his drink for a while now, but each time he brought his glass to his lips, his eyes were dragged back to you, and Zoro’s breath hitched as he lowered his hand once more.

You were effervescent, your smile never wavering as you twirled and stomped around to the beat of the melody strumming from Brook’s guitar. You had caught Usopp in a waltz now, dragging him with you as he stumbled to keep up. A laugh bubbled up and out of you, and Zoro’s chest seized. 

Nami rolled her eyes, growing tired of watching Zoro be so hopelessly infatuated. “Would you give it up? Do us all a favor and just tell her already.”

The swordsman barely cast her a glance, finally managing to get some sake down his throat to sooth the anxiety welling in his chest. “No clue what you’re on about.”

“You’re impossible,” she scoffed, standing while setting a hand on his shoulder. “And just plain sad.” Nami had skipped off to take your hand before Zoro could snap back at her, and he watched from his seat as Nami spun you around, dragging another chuckle out of you.

Sighing, Zoro lowered his gaze and settled on remaining seated the whole night, allowing you to have your fun without dampening it with his useless conversations. 

A figure plopped into Nami’s abandoned seat, and he was prepared for another tease, when your voice loftily inquired, “Zoro, you’ve been sad all night.”

Instantly, his head lifted to look at you and your slight smile. Your chest heaved up and down, still exhausted from dancing circles around the deck. He set his glass down, shifting his knees to face yours. “I’m fine. You tired?”

Your huffed sigh was answer enough, pulling a scant grin out of him. Your face lit up at the sight, and your eyes took a slightly warmer tone. “I know your answer already, but do you wanna dance?”

He nearly said what you expected—no—before it sank in that you had expected it. For him to deny you of something you wanted. Zoro’s eyes flickered all over your pretty face, his heart beating fast, and he nodded, much to your surprise.

“Really?” You tried to hold back your smile. “I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I do.”

You nearly squealed right then and there, settling for beaming at him whilst you scooped up his hand and pulled him to his feet. Your smile was coy and his was stifled, but everyone could see it. You took both his hands in yours and leaned back, spinning the both of you around.

From somewhere nearby, Sanji was scoffing and Usopp was whistling, but Zoro hardly even heard the music anymore. All he was conscious of was you and your snickers, of how your touch ignited his skin, of his stumbling feet, of how you drew him closer with a slight tug on his hand and wrung your arms around his neck.

Brook, as if on cue, began to strum a softer song, something akin to a slow dance. It drew a grin on your face, your eyes fluttering closed. Zoro’s heart jumped and his right foot crushed yours. He apologized swiftly as you winced, somehow still giggling at him. Angel, he thought.

Zoro couldn’t breathe. Not when you looked at him like that. His hands froze at his sides before they inched closer to you, hovering over your sides. Your eyes were shut, and he admired you unabashedly, leaning forward till his nose brushed your own, jerking you from your reverie to find him a breath away. 

His eyes widened after locking with yours, sputtering another apology as he attempted to remove himself from your vicinity, cursing himself. Your hands intertwined around his neck, holding him in place as all sense of caution fled your body. One last look into your eyes had Zoro lurching forward, catching your lips and relishing in the feeling of your thumb grazing his cheek. 

How an angel like you could hold a demon like him so lovingly, he wasn't sure. Zoro vowed to spend his life trying to find out, remaining at your side dutifully till the end of his days. You certainly had no objections, doing your best every day to convince him he indeed deserved your love.

The others never let you hear the end of it. Every “about time” made you that much closer to smacking someone upside the head. 

After your feelings were revealed, not much changed. The dynamic was still there, with the added physical intimacy when far from the prying eyes of the others, of course.

Zoro liked to lay his head on your legs while you read, and he’d never say it out loud, but he loved it when you carded your hands lazily through his hair. He didn't exactly need to tell you though; his contented sighs and following snores were enough.

He’s still not much of a dancer, and you respect when he’s just too tired to entertain your twirling and whirling. But sometimes, on days where he’s been up so long he starts to feel energized, he’ll take your hand and drag you onto the floor of whatever bar he’d brought you to. 

He's terrible, finding no rhythm no matter how hard he tries, and he settles for simply swaying along with you.

(You're in no place to tease him for it; you're just as out of place with a sword in hand).

Funny how you both held such grace in your separate fields of passion, yet lost it all the moment you try the other's craft.

Zoro still short-circuited every time your lips brushed his cheek, even if it became a habit of yours whenever leaving his side. 

Princess. Treatment (Or as much as he can give).

He’ll bully you if you start complaining that your feet hurt, but he’ll let you cling to his back like a koala all the way back to ship while doing it. 

Whilst walking around whatever city the crew was stopped at, he’ll have one arm around you at all times, really only letting you go when you weasel out of his arms to go listen to the little band playing music on the street corner. 

(He stands guard at the front of the crowd, eyes peeled whilst you distract the watchers long enough for Nami to pickpocket each and every one of them. And when he’s inevitably so caught up in watching you, someone notices Nami slinking off with their wallet. The three of you race through the street and around a corner, laughing till your sides ache).

Zoro will help you destroy all your dead pointe shoes from your days on Cerise’s stage, having no need for them on the sea, slamming the shoes by the ribbons against the deck of the ship till Usopp yells at you for leaving scratches on the deck. 

He has a little too much fun with it, and you’re no different, feeling free of all bitterness and anger with each shoe that you snap in two. The others are only slightly concerned about the violence of it all, leaving the pair of you alone when you and Zoro melt into laughter like children.

You try to teach him to waltz one day, because he was hopeless on the dance floor with two left feet. When he tried to escape it, you simply replied, “I want to dance with you… and keep my toes too.” “Hey!”

An hour must have passed, and Zoro still couldn’t process exactly what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to. He narrowly missed your toe again by stepping forward when he was meant to step back. 

Zoro grunted, dropping his arms from your waist and putting a wide berth between you. “Forget it.”

Grinning softly, you took his chin between your thumb and finger, catching his frustrated gaze that melted once it met with yours. “It’s fine. You’ll get it eventually.”

He scoffed as if to say yeah right, and you took that personally. Raising a brow, you lowered your gaze to your feet, then to Zoro’s, before a grin tugged at your lips. “I know! Here.”

You hooked your arms around his neck, getting up close and personal as you gently stepped onto his shoes. Zoro tried to remain stoic, but it all fell through when you brushed your nose against his and dragged a little chuckle out of him. 

“What’re you doing?” he asked fondly.

“Dancing,” you laughed. “This way, you can’t step on my feet.”

“But now you’re stepping on mine.”

“Hush. Just—spin around. I dunno.”

His hands settled on your hips, his eyes rolling to the side despite the light blush on his cheeks giving him away. Zoro grinned slyly and wrapped his arms around you, tottering from one foot to the next in a swift whirl. You squealed his name into his neck as he lifted you up, spinning the both of you around and around till you could barely breathe, you were laughing so hard.

Your feet touched the floor as Zoro’s sight got too dizzy, his deep laughter rumbling in his chest as he leaned into you for balance. You gripped his shoulders so he wouldn’t take you down with him, running your hand up the back of his neck to card through his hair. 

He pulled back, smiling dazedly, and you shook your head at him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Eh,” he said, ducking to hover his lips over yours. “I think I’m getting good at this dancin’ thing.”

Your scoff was muffled against his kiss, deep and slow. He grinned against your mouth, taking the first step forward to lead you back to his bed. The door to the boy‘s cabin swung open, instantly followed by a sharp scoff.

You broke away from Zoro to find Sanji standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed at Zoro’s back. “Whore,” he spat, his eyes softening on you. “Not you, my dear.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” you said with a roll of your eyes, watching as Zoro’s good mood flew out the window as he glared daggers into the cook. “Welp, dance class is over.” 

They were arguing before you ever left the room, their tones escalating surprisingly fast. “Bye, boys!”

There was a lull in the shouting before the sound of Zoro lumbering down the hall (did he just run into the doorframe?) echoed after you. “Hey, angel, wait!”

You turned, giggling as your graceless boyfriend stumbled to a stop before you, one arm resting on the wall beside you to steady himself. He too started to smile after catching the soft one on your lips, his other arms reaching to pull you close by your hip.

"I'll practice," he promised softly, his nose gently brushing your own.

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. I'll sweep you off your feet once and for all then."

He kissed you then, softly and full of intention, so you didn't bother to say Oh, but you already have.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s

#zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #x reader #reader insert #zoro fluff

[cauliflowercounty]

Mornings in the Mirror

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: a little vignette about getting dressed in the morning with Feyd. Established relationship.

Same universe as Knives Dance based on some of the exposition from part 3 because I’m having trouble saying goodbye to Knives Dance. You don’t have to have already read the series to understand, but there are some spoilers to the series. Set between parts 2 and 3.

Warnings: some suggestive content

Word Count: 2.1k

Written on mobile cause I’m on a bus

You step out of the bathroom attached to the bedroom you share with Feyd, using a towel to gently blot the last of the water off your hair to finish drying it. As you do so, you look outside the window to observe Giedi Prime’s cityscape with its dark, expansive architecture filled with imposing, black structures.

The city is already humming with morning activity. Ships fly through the air, taking people where they need to be like clockwork. You hear the beat of the Harkonnen armies marching on the ground far below your quarters. The sound has become a comfort to you since coming to Giedi Prime. Without fail, the marching would start at the same time each day, ringing in a new day as the black sun shone on the city. Just like all those times before, you feel the aura of Giedi Prime wash over you. Everything is in perfect order, which puts your mind at ease.

Looking over to the large bed behind you, you see Feyd has gotten up since you’ve been in the shower, leaving the sheets untidy over the mattress. You smile. You’ve come to learn his habits over the weeks, and he always does this, knowing the servants will come and replace them with fresh sheets later once you’ve both left. He’s always said that he has more important duties than making his own bed. Now that you’re living together, you know he’s right, especially since he’s Baron Harkonnen now. His daily meetings with advisors in the Harkonnen War Room or diplomats on his throne with you by his side often keep him occupied. His time is precious, as is yours.

Making your way over to the closet, you see your husband through the crack in the doorway. His back is to you, allowing you to see his muscled shoulder blades and admire his slim waist. He’s standing in front of his side of the closet, running his fingers along the series of clothes on hangers. You slip into the closet and approach him from behind. You know he’s already heard you approach when you see his shoulders relax. He turns to you, his Baroness. When he does so, you can see how his eyes soften, a small smile on his lips as he looks at you. He extends his palm outward to you and you gladly walk over and slide your hand into his.

“Good morning, my love,” he says to you before pulling you closer by your hand and wrapping his other hand around your waist before dragging it up your body and cupping your cheek. He brushes his thumb across your skin, sending shivers down your spine

As you look at him, your heart fills with pride, knowing you’re the only one who gets to be with him in this way. You get to see him for more than his reputation. Anyone would scorn the idea that Feyd-Rautha, the psychotic nephew of Vladimir Harkonnen, may he rest in peace, who slays countless slaves in a gladiatorial arena and kills servants at will, would be able to do something so tender. However, here you are, the only one to behold his love and affection.

“Good morning, Feyd,” you whisper back to him against his lips, and he gives your hand another firm squeeze. “I hope you slept well.” You both break reluctantly, knowing you both have to get ready now. “What are we doing today?” you ask him, turning to his closet and thumbing through his clothes yourself.

“We have another meeting with our generals today in the War Room,” he says as he stands back to watch you at work. He was surprised the first time you went to pick out what he wore for the day, but he quickly grew to appreciate the ritual because of how much thought you invested in it every day. “We also have to meet with our Directors of Commerce concerning spice on Arrakis. We should also be receiving news about the status of spice production.”

“I hope Rabban has gotten his act together,” you say, pulling one of his outfits from the hanger and taking an undershirt of his out of a drawer beside you. It’s a deep blue almost black pair of pants with a matching jacket with a high neckline. You hand it to him, and he immediately puts each item on.

You bring your arms to his shoulders to smooth the fabric of the jacket over his body. You grab the seams at the shoulders, lining them up with the edges of his body so that it hangs perfectly on him. The clean lines accentuate the broadness of his torso and bolster his imposing stature. He really looks like a Baron now. You make a mental note to have the seamstresses make more outfits like this for him.

“...And I hope Rabban has figured out how to acquire a brain,” Feyd mumbles, savoring your touch on him.

“Whatever will we do with him…” you sigh in return as you kneel down to smooth out his pant legs.

“Thank you,” Feyd says as you rise to your feet again when you finish.

“Of course,” you reply, starting to make your way over to your side of the closet. He follows you and brings a hand to your shoulder from behind. You twist around to look at him with your brows knit. Why did he stop you?

“May I… return the favor today, my darling?” He asks, his voice wavering for a moment. Your lips part in surprise. He’s never asked to do this before, but his nervousness that he’s trying to conceal makes your heart swell. From that small moment of hesitation, you can tell he’s been wanting to ask this of you for some time.

You step back to allow him access, and Feyd raises his gaze up to the exposed rack of clothes. He starts at one end, pushing the outfits on the rod one by one to take a close look at each one. As he moves down the line, you can tell he’s deep in concentration. Should he pick a Harkonnen gown, or one you’ve brought from Youra? He’s taking great care in this task, which makes you sigh in appreciation.

He finally decides after many moments of consideration. He pulls down a floor length Harkonnen gown with a Queen Anne neckline and cap sleeves. It’s made of layers of fabric that seem to swallow all light that touches it, creating a rich obsidian black. The bodice is an intricately detailed corset adorned with elegant lace and prominent ribbing atop fine mesh. As he turns it around, he drags his gaze up and down the dress. The back is also beautiful, the design stretching all the way around.

“I haven’t seen you wear this one before,” he says, as he admires the open upper back, the edges of which are lined with the same lace as the bodice.

“It has a lace-up corset. It takes longer and requires another person to get into,” you explain, which makes Feyd’s eyes glimmer with excitement.

“What am I here for then?” he asks with a grin.

“Ruling Giedi Prime perhaps?” you jest. He scoffs and brings the dress over.

“Other than that,” he says, taking it off the hanger.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Feyd.”

“It really isn’t any trouble, my love. Please? May I help you?” You see a hint of longing in his eyes and you nod at him, abandoning your towel as Feyd loosens the laces of the corset. He helps you by gathering the dress, giving you the ability to dive head first into the gown. As you pull down the dress over your body and put your arms through the armholes, you immediately notice how luxurious the fabric is against your skin. Even though the corset has not been tightened, you know that it will be a perfect fit by just feeling it on yourself. Turning your back to Feyd and holding yourself straight, you silently signal to Feyd that you’re ready.

“Let me know if it’s too tight,” he whispers in your ear from behind. His breath on your neck makes your skin tingle, and you try to resist turning around, grabbing his head and kissing him. At your motion he begins to tug on the laces little by little, causing the corset to perfectly conform to your figure. His touch is precise and the way he pulls at the strands is decisive and firm. To your surprise, he’s rather good at this and seems to know exactly what to do. Once he is done tightening it, he uses his fingers to gently tie a knot then a bow at the back of your dress with the excess ribbon. As you move around a little to settle into the dress, you feel how the corset isn’t too loose on you, and you don’t feel like you’re being suffocated either.

Before you can thank him for a job well done, he’s already at your feet, placing a pair of strapless patent leather shoes in front of you. He takes your hand in his. You use your free hand to grab your skirt as you slip the shoes on one by one. Feyd beckons you to follow him and takes you both over to the mirror in the closet. He positions you in front of him in the center of the mirror.

“Look at you, darling,” he whispers to you, his eyes wandering up and down the portrait of you in front of him. Feyd could look at this image all day. The bodice fits your body perfectly and the dress flares out from your waist beautifully, making you look like a goddess descended from above. He brings his arms around you and smooths his hands over your front, feeling the lace pass under his fingertips. The look of you together is truly gratifying for Feyd with him in his clean cut ensemble and you in your gown. You both look powerful next to each other. Together you are Baron and Baroness of House Harkonnen and you look the part. “You’re exquisite, my love.”

He dips his head down and brings his lips to your neck, pressing small kisses over the area. Feeling the heat within you rising, you turn around in his embrace and bring your arms up around his neck. Capturing his lips in yours, you kiss him fervently. He brings one hand up and combs his fingers through your hair, which makes you feel like a surge of electricity has shot through your veins. As you kiss him back, all of your surroundings seem to melt away into nothingness. All of it is insignificant compared to your husband. You can tell he’s also lost in the sensation of you against his body and in his hands as he rakes his hands through your hair. His grip on your waist tightens as his kiss becomes hungrier, and you feel him tug at your bottom lip with his teeth.

Breaking away from him, you see how heavy his lids are now, his firm grip on you not letting up. You smile at him and give him another quick kiss, this one much lighter. You didn’t want to stop, but you must attend to your duties. “Later, darling,” you sigh into his ear. “I just got dressed, after all. I wouldn’t want to undo your expert work.”

He lets out an amused huff and nods in agreement. You go over to the mirror and realize your hair is completely disheveled. Your dress is still beautiful, but you can’t say the same thing about your hair now that Feyd’s had his hands on it.

“I bet none of the Harkonnen women you’ve had in the past had to deal with this issue when leaving your quarters,” you joke as you open a different drawer near you, which contains all of your hair care tools that you’d brought with you to Giedi Prime. You take a moment to make the necessary adjustments to your hair, trying to salvage it.

“You need not mention them,” Feyd says, his jaw tightening. “They are of no concern to you or me anymore.”

“I know,” you smile, turning back to him and extending your arm. “I’m only teasing. Let’s go.”

He relaxes and gladly takes your hand, allowing you to lead him out of your quarters. With that, you begin your day side by side as Baron and Baroness of House Harkonnen.

—

Thanks for reading! 💛

Let me know if you’d like to be part of my Feyd taglist

#feyd rautha #dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd rautha x reader #x reader #dune #austin butler

[inknopewetrust]

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 [𝐀 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬]

Summary: Years after Hawkins was saved, Nancy and Steve’s wedding draws everyone back together and with it, you are reminded of the love you lost at the price of fame. [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader; WC: 17.4k] Warnings: language, exes to lovers, mutual pining/yearning, frightened lil beans in love, heavy angst.

A/N: I worked on this for weeks. I am very nervous to post it, and I hope you enjoy it (excuse any errors, it's time consuming loves).

What is it like to be loved?

There was something in that room that made you question it. The palpable, sudden feeling that permeated around it like a fog; a special dance that so many would be able to feel, yet it seemingly evaded you.

Her dress was beautiful. An ivory lace with sleeves that covered her soft skin. The brown of her hair so vibrant against the spring flowers she held as the chapel’s old stones warmed with the feeling reverberated with the words of the priest.

He was tall and stoic; filled with a slight fear that his true colors would show in his dark suit and dotted tie. He was joyous; he was a radiant boy filling his father’s suit and marrying the girl of his dreams.

Nancy and Steve.

For a moment, while the priest held everyone’s attention in a moment of prayer, it was quiet enough to imagine love physically filled the space before you. Head lightly dipped, the bouquet in your hand distracting you from the eyes of every person in the chapel.

A silence was asked for and responded to with grace. The silence of baseless words washing over the room in a wave of down-turned heads and folded hands. However quiet, however peaceful the room had become, that floating feeling hung from the rafters. You felt your heart sink. That heaviness of sorrow that plagued beautiful moments from a pain buried in your bones that you weren’t even sure really existed. Love. A tragic thing.

All you could ask was:

What is it liked to be loved?

Maybe it was the wedding that made you teary-eyed and soft hearted. You weren’t a hopeless romantic. You weren’t searching constantly for Mr. Right because he didn’t exist. They had shown you that, he had shown you that. Not some Marilyn Monroe waiting for the next man to sweep you off your feet and carry you into a raging bloody sunset in Los Angeles. No. The cards were dealt with precision and meaning; each turned over when the time allowed and burned when the bells tolled.

Love brewed and bubbled; love ached and pained; love existed and diminished; love stood in front of you screaming to break free but the cries fell silent—dead on the cold, stone floor.

Steve’s eyes called to Nancy like a ship lost at sea. The tears that brimmed at the corners whispered to fall after years of trauma and resolution. But they were relieved and elated and somehow, Nancy returned the sentiments with eyes elated. And it hurt to see your closest friends happy when you couldn’t be.

‘And from this day forward they would walk hand and hand into everything that You have destined them to be.’

The words echoed and echoed. The priest as happy to say them as Ted and Karen Wheeler nodded as if it were true from the pews. Steve’s parents had actually shown up too, along with hundreds of other people. Friends, coworkers, and the guests each of them brought.

‘We give our hearts and beings to You now in adoration.’

People like you didn’t give their hearts willingly. Not like Robin, not like Nancy. You weren’t sure about Max or Eleven, but perhaps they gave theirs willingly enough too as they stood beside you up on the alter. And you wanted that. You wanted to give it willingly. As their heads hung and their eyes diverted from above, there was a calling. Probably not from some higher God you weren’t sure even existed, but something—a gut feeling. One that simmered and bristled against negativity and anxiety; the same one that painfully squeezed that arduous organ in your chest. That feeling told you not to bow your head. It told you not to close your eyes and whatever it did, it made you shift your head in the slightest.

The groomsmen were just across the way beside Steve. Dustin helmed them, walking you down the aisle and reminding you that as they embraced adulthood, you were also getting older. Over one age milestone of established adulthood and half of the kids you babysat as a teenager were closer to marriage than you.

Angled perfectly with your shoulder—bare from the design of your green gown. The shape of your nose and chin and the style of your hair falling sleekly into a perfectly haloed outline as though a magician had cast their greatest spell. And when it turned just enough, where the platform was illuminated by the rays of the sun, one other head remained as perfectly crafted as yours, looking back as though the universe said: here it is.

This is what it feels like. 

Those butterflies? Love. The heart bursting panic that set off inside you? Love. The painful realization that you could have it and you could nurture it with passion? Love.

It existed. 

And it did so in the cruelest of forms. 

Because the sheen of your eyes from the beautiful wedding and the widely spoken words of the priest meant more when staring back at the one thing you had always wanted. It was one feeling, one person, and that’s what you swore you couldn’t have.

He had chosen that for you. Six years ago in a tiny apartment on the west side of Chicago, he decided his career was more important.

He was him. He was a brilliant, foul-mouthed metal rock star with impeccable hair and sense of style that made your heart leap for quiet bursts of love. He was complicated and corny and filled with a truth you hadn’t been able to recognize because everyone else clouded life. What life could be and what it could hold.

Eddie Munson was a rock star. Eddie Munson was one of the most famous musicians in the world. Eddie Munson was a friend, a hero, and Eddie Munson was the man who broke your heart and it could never heal itself.

And yet love remained deep down.

It’s regretful nature resurfacing because love was tangible in the chapel in Nantucket.

It was love. It existed. It was real. It was palpable in that room, in his eyes, against the prayer, across the aisle and in all of the pews.

‘And we welcome Your Holy Spirit amongst us. Amen.’

And the chorus filled the room. The pews creaked and heads returned upright. You lost the sight as Steve and the others lifted their heads, but the feeling remained. It sunk to the pit of your stomach where the realization remained.

“Hey,” a hushed whisper sounded near your right ear as your body jolted minutely from the call. Robin’s head tried to follow your direction but couldn’t find the destination. There were hundreds of people in that room. But she should have known. She should have known. 

“Everything alright?”

Her concern was evident. Had you been that rigid the entire time? Was the look of love one of fear? Were the tears in your eyes truly that clear?

“I’m fine, Rob. Really.”

It hadn’t convinced her but you returned your attention to the ceremony instead. Robin waited, glancing over your shoulder again and again to try to find her answer. The sentiment of conflict appearing much faster in times of clear disruption than she remembered. The feeling of the world tilting on its axis for something you couldn’t control.

Her eyes looked for the answer. Searching the crowd with an unfathomable hardened gaze until it landed back to the groomsmen and she felt everything click back into place. You had reassured Nancy and Robin that everything was fine; that you were friends. That there was no animosity nor tension remaining over the years but it had. They just wanted to believe the best, yet all the signs were there. 

The way you stood so still; scared of yourself as emotions took their hold.

Six years of separation meant nothing. Its degrees scorching the earth every moment not together, bound by the universe yet torn apart by wants, not needs.

They had all believed you. They believed Eddie’s lies that he had moved on—the woman looking straight out of a Vanity Fair magazine in the fifth row the one he brought to prove such a tale.

No.

They had all been wrong.

The two of you had imploded the meaning of love because if it couldn’t exist between the two of you, it couldn’t exist at all.

Steve and Nancy wed on a Saturday in March. 

The morning had greeted everyone with golden rays. Sunlight streaming in from the curtains of the Wauwinet’s rooms waking its patron’s with a sprinkle of joy. Early morning glow; warm and intoxicating on a day such as that. 

You couldn’t see the beach from where you laid; the white comforter covering your shoulders high, eyes peeking out from the space between the blankets and your pillow. High above on the second floor, the sky reflected its yellow and pink hues until they faded to blue. Not a cloud in the sky. 

The two days you had spent on the tiny island thus far had been a reflection of that sunrise. An excitable shimmer of beauty and grace only to fade into a familiar blue–a melancholy gloom that you hadn’t expected to feel. You stepped off the plane only to be greeted with every feeling that ran in its opposite direction; Robin and Nancy clung to you with joy, Steve and the boys, who you should probably call young men now, hugged you tightly. 

And then a cloud formed. 

The cloud was ugly, gray, and filled with matter you had buried deep. Years of pretending everything in your life was going smoothly–that you were exactly where you wanted to be–lingering above you like a joke. Laughing, jesting you with the past as happiness was rubbed into a wound like salt. 

He had a smile plastered onto his face the first time you saw him that weekend–the night before the ‘I do’s.’ He was sitting in the wine cellar with Steve, reminiscing about the past as the future was gently placed on Nancy’s finger; sparkling against the shine of the hotel’s lighting as night had long fallen on a Friday evening. 

As the thoughts lingered in your mind as the sun began to rise, it hadn’t been seeing Eddie for the first time in years that had thrown your world off its axis. The woman, clad in the most casual New England fashions, who sat beside him with her arm resting on his, did. 

A petty, jealous feeling at the sight rose within you rapidly. 

You felt there was no right for you to feel that way. 

Six years. Six years had left an open season for both he and you to find new people to love, hate, and screw, but the idea that there was a reality that existed where Eddie no longer loved you was jarring. 

The fear of it became engrained in your bones. Tattooed onto skin that was untouched and permanently stained with words that hurt and stung and ultimately resulted in the reason you had come to that wedding alone.  

Eddie had scarred you–in a beautifully tragic way that you’d never be the person you were at seventeen when he asked you to go see Temple of Doom at a theater two towns over. It was a shame you’d always tie him to that film… because you really fucking liked the movie but all you could think about was how Indy left Marion in the dust and hell, you felt like Marion sometimes. 

He just sat there. A gorgeous woman on his arm and smiling at Steve as though not a day had gone by. He looked older, more sure of himself, and dare you think it, had a bit more style than he did before. Nice, in a ‘formal but not too formal’ kind of way. 

They were all sipping on some hundred-dollar wine. He could afford it now. Red-soled shoes, a jacket with no fringe, and a bottle of wine that cost as much as your monthly rent. 

Nancy had been perched on a stool at the high-top beside Steve. The two had been going over the rehearsal that Eddie conveniently missed as well as the dinner from hours before. From what Robin had divulged, he had a show in Boston and would make his way out to Nantucket after it was over. 

You didn’t think Nancy ringing your suite for drinks would mean he’d be there too. 

The thunder from the cloud above you rumbled when Nancy caught your eye in the entryway. 

Everything, from the clothes you wore to the company of the room, felt out of place. Like you were looking from the outside and into a world that was completely yours but never one you recalled. The people in it–sparingly familiar but strangers all the same. 

Nancy had taken a sip of her wine, swallowing quickly as she perked up and waved at you. The attention drawing each eye away from Steve and to you, unwelcome and afraid of familiarity. Two looked happy, one looked curious, and the other looked like the whole world had stopped. 

A moment in time paused. No calm waiters tending to guests, no heads turning toward him because he was identifiable; it was blank. Two worlds gone completely still because for the first time in six years, you and Eddie had finally converged to one place. 

Some expensive hotel on Nantucket Island for a wedding between two people you both held near and dear to your hearts. It took nothing to imagine that if things had gone right, perhaps it would not be Steve and Nancy meeting at the alter tomorrow afternoon. 

In the stillness, a reunion is not bound by the trivial “it’s good to see you” or “its been too long.” A mind playing funny tricks and sending you back to years before–the way his entire person disappeared beyond the bedroom door only to be followed by the slamming of the front one. An apology sputtered at the end of a fight that had been brewing for weeks. 

The last time you saw Eddie Munson he had come home from a tour with no direction but up. Up to a new place, to a new life, and one that kept the past behind. Questions of love, home, and loyalty tested two people who were holding onto a fine thread before it snapped. 

Now, its lingering shreds brushed together with an easterly wind. 

You don’t know what he was thinking when the words stopped fumbling from his lips. 

“Hey!” Steve cheered happily from his spot as Eddie went quiet. “Come on, join us!” 

You felt like a fool standing there idle. Feet glued to the floor, eyes trained on Eddie a moment too long because as soon as the fifth second passed, the woman by his side asked: 

“Who’s that?” 

Steve said your name, waving at you the same way Nancy had, “She’s Ed–“ 

“My Maid of Honor!” Nancy cut in, giving the woman a smile in reassurance that it was the description most accurate to who you were. Nancy didn’t know why she cut Steve off like that; the side-eyed glance she received from him as Eddie stared back at you should have told her everything. 

Not friend, not best friend, not former classmate, but Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. What a label to have. 

Your planted feet begged you to move. The awkwardness of standing still for lingering seconds in time drawing eye after eye, raising questions as to whether or not you were having a medical emergency or just plain stupid. Your feet took those commands and walked, before your mind could even process that the night had continued to move forward without being truly ready to interact. 

“I told you she’d join us,” Nancy hit Steve’s shoulder lightly with the back of her hand, “Can’t spend the last few hours of us together as an unmarried couple without those who brought us back together.” 

Steve gave her a smile, hand squeezing her kneecap under the table because in reality, there wasn’t an ounce of a lie there. Not that any regular person would understand, but Steve had always dreamed of this moment: the night before he went to sleep one last time as an unmarried man, sipping chilled wine in an expensive hotel with his bride-to-be, his closest friends, and the reason he and Nance were at this stage. 

One piece of that puzzle had gone mute, silent as though they never heard him talk. As you approached the high top that was tucked into a corner by the windows that looked out to the Atlantic Ocean, Eddie couldn’t form words. He had prepared himself for this moment for years and yet his mind had gone blank. Emotions barren from his chest like he was an empty, cavernous being and not a person. He felt nothing–like the world had been obliterated and there was only him in space; alone and helpless to save his sanity. 

And if it hadn’t been so long since he last laid eyes on you, perhaps he could have recognized the same emotions bleeding out of you. That the wound had never truly closed and there was much unsaid floating around the two of you that the air was hard to breathe. 

But against it all, it was you who offered the closed smile and a small: 

“Hi.”

Eddie’s relief that the first words weren’t “fuck you,” or “I still hate you.” Just a simple “hi” that replayed in his mind as the seconds transpired and the ball had fallen into his court. 

But those words were hard for you to even muster. 

“It’s good to see you,” he settled on, not leaving his chair to wrap his arms around you or whisk you away to hear how your life has been since he left. He sat there, as still as you had in the entryway, and let you take the spot beside Nancy because it was the furthest away from his own that you could take. 

Eddie had completely forgotten about the woman to his right. 

No one had thought anything of the interaction. In two minds, it played out differently because the truth existed somewhere between two people unwilling to face it. For people like Nancy and Steve, there had been one story that had been told yet no one questioned the absence of the other on specific holidays, birthdays, or more. 

“We broke up,” that was what you had told Nancy and he had told Steve. Word for word, the same story. “Distance was getting too hard and we thought we’d take a break. It’s better this way and we’re still friends–we we’re friends before everything so…” 

For every truth, there were two lies. 

Nancy flagged down the waiter, tapping on her glass and holding up two fingers. You shifted in your seat as one leg crossed over the other and glanced at the woman to Eddie’s right. 

She wasn’t familiar at all. Still hanging on Eddie’s arm and fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. In all of your years together, you had never seen Eddie wear a dinner jacket. 

And against your feelings, you extended your hand over the table toward her. Eddie didn’t know what to think of that. You introduced yourself. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he knew the voice. It was the kind someone would use on the telephone if they were talking to a co-worker or boss, not a friend. 

“Veronica,” she lifted her hand from Eddie’s arm and graciously shook yours over the wine glasses; a tiny set of flickering candles beside a small relish tray beneath it. “I hear you’re the Maid of Honor?” 

“As much as one can be,” you told her, eyes looking over her face and form. Eddie could see it now that you were comparing yourself to her, an unfortunate circumstance of choice. “The other bridesmaids have helped a bit with planning and what not… it’s not easy work,” you scoffed, tipping your head at Nancy and the bride shook her head with a grin. 

“I promise I’m not one of those crazy brides,” Nancy jokingly defended herself to Veronica who admired the friendship before her. She knew you all of two seconds and could see how comfortable the two of you were. 

“Yeah, sure…” you trailed off as the waiter returned with two new glasses of wine. You thanked him and took a long, needed sip as the white wine’s bubbles barely had time to settle. 

Steve cleared his throat as you drank, glancing at Eddie before turning to you. “We were just catching him up on what went down at the rehearsal. Told ‘em that Robin tripped down the aisle so he’s gotta hold onto her tightly.” 

You snickered at the memory. Robin Buckley couldn’t walk in heels even if she tried to. Nodding your head, you didn’t make eye contact with Eddie to reiterate the sentiment. 

“She’ll topple over if you don’t.” 

“Will do,” Eddie replied quietly, differently than he normally would have and Veronica put her hand on his arm again, rubbing it up and down as if she knew. For once, he just wished she would stop. 

“We’re going to–“ Steve’s voice drowned itself out as he rattled on about the plans of tomorrows festivities. 

Every now and again when you’d catch a word of Steve’s, you couldn’t help but look at Eddie. Those eyes still telling of his emotions rather than the words he spoke; wide and pupils blown from both the environment and alcohol. 

You weren’t shameless about it when he caught you looking. He couldn’t help it either; it was as though he was drawn to a magnet that kept pulling him in. Just as you had observed him, everything was familiar yet strangely different. The way you held yourself, the clothes you wore, makeup and hair just enough having changed to make him notice that he didn’t know you now as he had then. 

However, he still felt that hand on his jacket. 

Yet he was looking at you. And he felt like a coward for thinking he’d rather have you cling to him like that then her. She, Veronica, didn’t deserve to have a man think that of her. 

“Are you still in Chicago?” He blurted out over Steve’s talking. Like walking in a path of quicksand, Eddie did not want to drown before his life truly began. Steve stopped and glanced at Eddie as though his friend had a stroke. 

“Mhm,” you murmured over the lip of the glass Nancy had secured for you. “Still in California?” 

“Yeah, near Bell Canyon.” 

“Is that…” Of course you wouldn’t have known exactly where that was. It wasn’t like you had a map inside of your brain or tracked his every movement. Based on the question on whether or not he still lived in California, he wondered if you read anything about him at all. 

“It’s near Los Angeles… like suburbs of it.” 

“Ah, alright,” you met his eyes briefly before taking another long sip of your wine. He could see the way you practically folded in on yourself; anxiety and fears bubbling within you the same way they used to. 

“And you still live…” he trailed off in a veiled hope that the implication went unspoken. ‘At the apartment, our apartment.’

“No,” you shook your head, “I moved a few years ago… have a nice view of the lake,” the thought of it brought a small smile to your face. It was nice. It was nearly perfect. 

“No more of the ‘L’ ruining your sleep?” 

He saw the hint of smile play on your lips. 

“It’s pretty quiet now,” for a multitude of reasons he could think of. 

“That’s good,” Eddie nodded, glancing at Steve and Nancy who provided no support to make the situation any less awkward. 

“So,” Veronica began with a perky voice for eleven-thirty at night, “Eddie said you all went to high school together?” 

The model wore these big, curious eyes. She was kind, in a doxy kind of way but her sentiment’s with her words transcended through each of you. This woman, a date, hadn’t been a steady, familiar thing to Eddie. Anyone who knew him as close as a formal, long-term partner did, would have known about the crew from Hawkins. 

“Yeah,” Steve answered as a savior, “But we weren’t all friends then… that took some time. We were all pretty different.” 

Nancy hit his arm playfully, giving a scowl as Steve quirked his eyes at Eddie. The latter had simply taken the labels he was given and ran with them–a transformative play for the man with a lengthy petty crimes list and could out smoke Pablo Escobar. 

“It doesn’t matter what we were like! We’re all friends now and those three–“ Nancy gestured her hand over Steve, Eddie, and yourself, “were in the same class.” 

“Oh!” She beamed. “How cool! I don’t really talk to anyone from my class so it’s nice to see it works for some people.” 

Everyone just gave her tight smiles. Having friends from childhood didn’t make you less of a person. It meant stronger connections and the fact that no one could say why you were all bonded so closely made things more difficult. 

“And the rest of your friends?” Veronica turned her face toward Eddie who shrugged. 

“In their rooms, I’m guessing. I think we got here a little late,” he chuckled. 

“They know you had a commitment,” Nancy reassured him. “Besides, Dustin and the others will be just as thrilled to see you in the morning.” 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “After the bachelor party, I didn’t think half of us would even make it here so it’ll be a nice surprise.” 

Thank God for Steve and his stupid jokes. It broke some tension, a smile actually cracking Eddie’s face again and one that reached his eyes. The brown, doe-eyed ones that Robin once said made her sad were recalling that party like it was the funniest thing he had ever experienced. 

‘It probably was’, you thought, ‘Steve Harrington always knew how to party.’ 

“So,” Veronica interjected, pointing a finger between you and Nancy, “the bachelorette party wasn’t anything to write home about?” Quick judgement.

“We went wine tasting in the Valley,” Nancy’s eyes lit up at the memory, “and then we went hiking… which in retrospect wasn’t something any of us liked.” 

It was the end of summer when everyone could get together and the heat ate at each of you as the sun rose higher, the drinks flowed more, and the guides took in their amusement of each woman. 

“Went to some museums, ate too much food…” you said additionally. 

“El learned she was allergic to pears and Max got stung by a bee,” Nancy interjected, “and our heroes Lucas and Mike came to save the day when we got stranded in the middle of lake because the engine died on the boat we rented.” 

“I think we’ll stick to spa days and cooking classes next time,” you picked up your glass, a side-eye to Nancy as she quickly agreed. Veronica perked up, still clutching Eddie’s arm. 

“Who’s getting married next? You?” 

She meant nothing by it. Her eyes were friendly and voice high pitched, interested in the conversation to just be a part of something more than a two-person bubble. You choked on the wine, the question startled you because it hadn’t been something you thought of in a long time. 

You put the glass down as your hand went to your mouth, wiping it dry and you, unintentionally, looked from her to Eddie. Steve noticed, Nancy didn’t. 

“No!” You replied a bit too loudly. “Sorry,” shaking the embarrassment from you, “I just–no. Not me. I would put money on Dustin and Suzie once they’re done at MIT… He’s loved her since he was in middle school.” 

She smiled at the idea of everlasting young love. “That’s cute! Sometimes, if you know, you know, right?” And she squeezed Eddie’s arm the same way her hand squeezed your heart at the sight. 

Eddie dropped his arm into his lap after her grip loosened. Her hand fell onto the table and whether she realized it or not, the rejection she felt showed on her face. 

“How did you two meet?” Nancy picked an olive with a toothpick from the small dish on the table. Veronica peered at Eddie to answer but he wasn’t going to. 

“At an event for our agency a couple…three? months back.” 

Three months.

“Cool,” Steve mumbled as he followed Nancy’s lead and took one of the pickles from the tray. “So what are you? An agent? Model...?” 

“I model for magazines, yeah,” she nodded and focused her hands at the base of her wine glass. You watched Veronica tap her white nails on the table cloth before bringing them back to the foot. “Sometimes do commercials or videos and stuff.”

Steve sat back in his chair; a thought pondered in his mind as he watched your eyes divert from the table and out the window to your left. It was dark, you couldn’t see anything beyond ten feet. The arm that had been taken off the table now sat at Eddie’s side with his hand in his lap. He had taken his thumb and twisted at the ring that rested on his ring finger–the one with a dark stone he had worn since forever. 

The groom reflected back to his bachelor party, three weeks ago, and how Eddie made no mention of Veronica but very drunkenly admitted something he didn’t want to see the light of day. 

Buried; six feet deep with the memories he had locked away in Pandora’s box. There was key to unlock them, let them fly away and spread like stars in the sky but it was booze and a little bit of weed that truly let them sing. 

Steve wasn’t sure if Eddie realized what he had told him that night. 

The way he was twisting his rings made him think that if he didn’t, Eddie was at least thinking the same thing now. 

“You know,” Steve crossed his arms as he leaned back, glancing at Veronica first before allowing his eyes to wander to you, then Eddie. “If you asked me a few years ago if I thought that Eddie, Eddie Munson, would be dating a supermodel… I would have laughed.” 

Veronica chuckled, a light blush forming on the balls of her cheeks as Eddie shook his head. It was Steve’s tone that made you turn to him. 

“Not really your type, dude,” Steve said and the woman’s face went flat. The chuckle cease and Nancy forgot how to breathe for a second. Maybe Steve had too much to drink, maybe he was done for the night, and if she whisked him away now, he wouldn’t be hung over for the wedding. 

“Come on, man…” Eddie shifted his head to the side, glaring at Steve to knock-it-off before things crossed a line he wasn’t prepared for. Eddie thought himself a jackass sometimes but he never wanted others to feel uncomfortable. 

“No offense, Veronica,” Steve held out his hand as if saying ‘I don’t mean anything by it.’ “It’s just…” He clicked his tongue, “you want the best for your friends, right? And for the last decade or more I’ve never seen you fawn over the looks of a model.” 

“Steve,” you interjected, providing the same look Eddie had given him because he was trying to open that box. “Stop being an asshole.” 

You turned to Veronica, “he’s just a little drunk, that’s all.” Nancy supported it with a smile and put her hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve laughed at your words like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “That’s kind of rich coming from you.” 

“I think we should–“ Nancy began but Steve leaned forward on his elbows. 

“You like Lord of the Rings, Veronica? Or ever go to a thrift store and absolutely wreck the clothes you bought? Play D and D?” She looked confused so Steve stopped, “Dungeons and Dragons? Like the game? No? How about drugs? Do you do those?” 

“Steve! Fuck man…” Eddie hit Steve’s shoulder, “I think we’re a little past a buzz, huh?” 

“Tell me, Eddie,” Steve took the whack to his shoulder in stride, “You’re not thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” 

“I don’t know what you’re thinkin’ about.” 

“Okay,” Steve drug the ‘a’ out of the word, “fine!” He looked to you, “are you thinking what I’m thinking then? And when I said it’s funny, I meant in you defending her when–“ 

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Eddie said loudly, “would you just shut the fuck up for once! I was so worried about us getting into it,” he threw a hand up and motioned between the two of you, “but you took that and ran right the fuck away with it!” 

As Eddie argued with Steve, you turned to Nancy. 

“I think you better take him to his room,” you saw how mortified she was, “or I can call up Lucas and Dustin to come get him too?” 

“I’ve got him,” she took your hand and held it tightly. “He’s just up-“ 

“—OH!” Steve’s voice cut through hers, “like you’re not giving ‘fuck me eyes’ to each other! Goddammit! It’s like living with divorced parents! No wonder you switch off holidays!” Steve pointed at you, “was that your idea? I bet it was.”

“Wait,” Veronica cut in after Steve’s ‘divorced parents’ comment, “did you two date?” her eyes flicking between Eddie and yourself. Her question went unanswered as Steve continued his tirade. 

“And Dustin reassured me there wouldn’t be an issue!” 

“There wasn’t an issue until you brought it up!” Eddie said pointedly. You downed the rest of your wine in one gulp and Nancy hopped off her chair as people started to go quiet at the surrounding tables. 

“Please!” Steve lamented, “you got fuckin’ plastered in Miami and told me and the boys that you wished it was you gettin’ married not me!” 

“When the hell did I say that?” Eddie furrowed his brows, voice still loud and defensive. Nancy shrugged on her cardigan that was on the back of her chair, Veronica looked befuddled, and you felt like you blanched. Even if they couldn’t see it, you felt it. 

“At the shitty strip club!” Not something he should have shouted in a place like this. “You got all weird and drank yourself to pieces because, and I quote,” Steve said crazed, “the wedding makes you fucking sad and you didn’t know how to handle it.” 

“Oh fuck you, man,” Eddie soured, rolling his eyes at Steve as Nancy grabbed his arm gently.

“Steve, come on,” she coaxed him, “we better get going.” 

“If you want to convince people you don’t still love each other,” Steve chided, “then maybe stop acting like the world will fall apart the moment you walk into a room.” 

“Wait,” Veronica added again, shaking her head in misunderstanding, “still love each other? When did this happen?” 

“We don’t love each other,” Eddie answered for both of you without a second to spare. “And it won’t fall apart! Look! We’re here now!” He motioned his hand between the two of you across the table again but didn’t look at the way you listened to every word like you had when you fought in the kitchen that horrible evening.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded as if he didn’t believe Eddie in the slightest, “Swear on Dustin? On your… shit… I don’t know, guitar!? Say that to her face and tell her like you didn’t just tell me you make a fucking mistake years ago.” 

Mistake. 

There were two paths of a mistake. 

One, where his choice to follow his career without you was a mistake because it wasn’t as it seemed or it wasn’t complete without you; or two, that being with you entirely was a mistake because it clouded his wants for his future. 

Eddie sighed, head bowing as he ran a hand over his face and through his hair before coming up again. 

“Do you really want this to be how you remember the night before you get married?” Eddie asked Steve as the groom sat there with his bride clutching his arm in a pleading motion to exit the wine cellar. 

“Do you want this to be how you remember the day you chickened out on being a man for once?” 

Steve knew it cut deep. The wound open and bleeding for all to see as Eddie’s face scoured into the in-between of pissed off and irate. 

“Go, Steve,” Eddie said flatly, “Big day tomorrow. Don’t want to be late.” 

Nancy gave you a supportive, closed lip smile as Steve finally got off his chair and walked to the door. She let him leave first. 

“I’m sorry about him…” She laughed with embarrassment, “He’s just overwhelmed with everything.” And Nancy wasn’t telling you or Eddie that, but Veronica. 

“It’s alright,” she told her kindly in reply, “wedding’s aren’t wedding’s without a little drama, right?” 

For that, Nancy was grateful. She looked between you and Eddie–still separated by the table yet the string still bristled. 

“Be in the bridal suite by nine, okay?” She told you, “and I think the guys are getting ready at like ten so, don’t sleep in.” 

“Got it,” from Eddie and a “yeah, okay,” from you. 

“Sorry again,” Nancy apologized, leaving to go scold Steve as the table now sat quiet and awkward. 


The flames flickered as the noises from other tables now filled the void of conversation at your own. Veronica tapped her glass, yours sat empty, and Eddie was still facing the empty seat where Steve had been. 

“So,” Veronica pursed her lips, “you two dated then?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. It provided her the answers of why Eddie had been acting the way he had and the conciseness of dialogue that existed amongst you. The way he gazed, the way you diverted it; his own curiosity and knowledge of the sound of the elevated train that impacted your sleeping and the way the admittance that Eddie now lived in a suburb sent you the wrong way. 

Even then, you glanced at Eddie to see if he’d answer. She was his guest, after all. He turned back around in his seat–back flush against the chair, shoulders slouched. 

“Yes,” he treaded carefully, “we did.” 

“For how long?” It may have been worse that she said none of it with malice. 

Eddie flicked his eyes from where they were trained on the table top to you. And fuck, they sucked you right back in and spit you right back out. 

“About eight years…” You told her, ready to flee. 

“That’s a long time,” she nodded to reaffirm her words. “And you lived together?” 

“Mhm,” Eddie hummed as if he didn’t want her to know every detail of his life. He looked down at the table. “For four years of it.” 

“More like three,” you mumbled passively, pushing your wine glass forward on the table. 

“Four,” Eddie said firmly and his eyes shot back up to you. Sensitive subject, you suppose. He remembered every word you had said to him that evening and the comments about his time spent at home stuck. “Four,” he reiterated. 

“Tell me, when was the last time you were excited to come home?” 

You didn’t forget your words either. 

Your expression pinched; eyebrows shooting up for a brief second before your head cocked to the side with silent words. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself or this table any further by getting into a spat with Eddie over something as trivial as years spent in a shabby apartment in Chicago. 

The wine glass was already pushed; two chairs empty as bed appeared to be the best option to end the night. A soft, hotel pillow to help you replay every image your mind could remember from what you had, what you lost, and what had just happened. 

You hated that. But it was better than arguing with someone you didn’t want to argue with. 

Breathing in a deep, sharp breath, you retracted your gaze from Eddie and gave Veronica the softest one you could muster. 

“It was good to meet you,” you told her. It wasn’t her fault Eddie took your heart and ran away with it. “I hope Steve’s little scene didn’t scare you off. He can be a drama queen when he drinks.” 

“All good,” she gave a tight smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “Happens to the best of us.” 

“So it does,” you replied, giving her a nod before sliding off your chair and letting the space return to two. Eddie’s sigh was loud; the way he closed his eyes in frustration hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

As you passed on her side exiting the corner table, you put a hand on the table when your feet came to a stop. Veronica looked at you curiously and waited for another ball to drop on her toes but it didn’t. 

“Don’t let him smoke a whole pack, alright? Won’t do any of us good if he does.” 

And then you walked away. 

Veronica had only been romantically linked to Eddie for three months. She hadn’t seen any side of him that resembled the man sat beside her before and from what she knew, Eddie was not a smoker. The only comment that had surprised her more than the outburst from the groom was when Steve admitted Eddie had become hammered from the booze and weed at his bachelor party. 

But before you could escape the wine cellar fully, Eddie turned around in his seat and shouted your name across the restaurant. 

In a full, obnoxious manner that reminded you of the boy you had fallen in love with in high school. 

“I quit. Six years ago.” 

When the sun rose to its blue hue and the reminder of the night before replayed in your mind like a fresh, unadulterated film, there was a conflict brewing within you. 

The idea of love. 

Love was precious; an almost a forgettable thing when the daily grind became too much for simplistic thought yet it was what people craved the most. To love, to be loved. On a day like that–where there was not a raincloud in sight and when two people were joining each other in matrimony bound by the tethers of love–it was hard not to think about how the feeling evaded you. 

It touched you once. 

It gripped its claws into your flesh and left fatal wounds in its wake, yet you desired it so. Love, the splendid little thing that meant mountains but fell to cavernous trenches. 

You don’t know which part of Eddie you had fallen in love with first. Juvenile, childish love was innocent at seventeen. As you grew older and the complications of adulthood and circumstance of living in Hawkins transformed life, the reasons for loving him changed too. 

It wasn’t always about how he could make you laugh or the way his eyes were so expressive; the comfort he brought or the way he helped you love yourself through him loving you in return. 

It was doing the dishes together at the end of a long night. Falling asleep on the couch because making it to the bed after one of his gigs was too exhausting, but he’d wake up in the early hours of the morning and make sure you’d both end up there anyway. How Eddie made time for everyone and everything until life stopped allowing him to do so. 

It was moments where you and Eddie would be waiting for the train at Clinton station and he’d link his finger with yours because winter gloves constricted full hand movements. 

Those times made you hate what love often resolved itself with: pain and bitter resentment that life was cruel. 

And the clock ticked away as you thought of it. 

When Nancy put her veil on, Robin was the first to cry. Then Max, then Eleven, and Karen was close behind them all. You stayed for a few minutes before excusing yourself to the hallway because the sight painted you blue. 

You felt horrid for feeling bitter when Nancy’s fairytale was not an hour away. 

In the hallway, there was a series of doors that led to varying rooms. Ones that held the groomsmen and Steve, one for the flower girl and ring bearer’s families. It was decorated with seaside decor of light yellows, blues, and whites. A table down ten feet and across the way had a mirror hung above it cased in gold. 

The woman in the reflection was one you neglected to see for a long while. The apparent dissatisfaction of your own circumstance on a day filled with joy riddled on every feature. A necklace clutched in your palm feeling the brunt of sweat and aggravation as Eddie filled your thoughts again. 

You wanted to love him, to be loved by him. You tried to hook the clasp. Missed. 

Why couldn’t you just move on and be happy with someone else? Again, the clasp dug into your finger. Missed. 

Could you even remember what it truly felt like to be loved? 

The clasp evaded you. It was mocking, laughing as you struggled in the hallway mirror and began to sweat the idea that you’d never be able to secure it. Heaving a deep sigh in the mirror, you clutched the necklace in your hand and leaned against the table with two fists. 

“Get it fucking together,” you told yourself quietly. 

Regaining your posture, you tried again, ignoring the sounds of a hall door opening and closing down the way. Your fingers trembled as the clasp caught air once more. 

“You need help with that?” 

You stared at your reflection and pretended not to see where he had stopped. Jaw tense, you shook your head and attempted the connection for the tenth time. 

When you missed again, he scoffed. 

“Give it to me,” he held out his hand palm up, ready to take it from your timid fingers and do it for you. “Come on,” Eddie egged on.

“I don’t need help,” you told him.

“Yes, you do,” he said pointedly. He could see the indentations of the small lever on your index finger. “Just let me help you.”

He wasn’t going to leave. Your eyes met in the mirror and he rose his brows expectantly. More hesitantly than he wished, you held out the necklace and let it ring into his palm. A nod from your head gave him the assent he needed.

In the silence of the hallway, you felt squeezed—both your mind and heart. Eddie moved to stand behind you and you could barely breathe; the simple gesture of helping you put on a necklace far more harrowing than previously realized. He was so close. So close. His fingers trailed to the back of your neck, brushing away the hair with his fingertips and letting it fall where it would not infringe the task.

You couldn’t bear to look at him. Focused on the sconces beside the mirror, you tried not to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you for the first time in half a decade. You tried not to remember the way his touch intoxicated you; every stroke and graze intentional as his eyes watched you struggle.

Eddie lifted his arms above your head and let the jewelry fall onto your collarbone. You wondered if his heart was beating as fast as yours.

“How does she look?” Nancy. His voice was low, quiet in the hall to not disturb the others getting ready. You hadn’t even taken him in yet.

The suits Steve chose were all black, form-fitting with ties instead of bow ties. The pocket squares were filled with a white handkerchief, and the shoes were a clean, shiny black. On his lapel, a single rose was pinned.

“She looks beautiful,” you replied but still wouldn’t look at him. You heard the clasp make it. The necklace sat firm but his hands did not move. They lingered, tracing the line of the back of your neck to the tops of your shoulders.

“You look beautiful.”

You didn’t want him to say that.

“Don’t say that,” you replied morosely. 

“Why?” Eddie’s fingers brushed the necklace’s golden chain. “It’s true.”

The bottom of your lip trembled dangerously.

“Because you can’t say that.” 

“But I did,” he sounded hopeful which dug into that wound a bit further. 

“You brought a date.”

“Why won’t you look at me?” He whispered, fingers still gliding. He said your name softly, “look at me, please. Talk to me.”

You felt your heart constrict, sending a shuttered breath through you and your eyes blinked rapidly. There was no way in Hell you would let Eddie see you cry. He had moved on. He brought a date. A goddamn runway model that, in your opinion, ran circles around you in every way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“I need to go,” you stepped away from him, shaking your head and jetting off down the hall. “I’m sorry.”

He called your name once, twice, but you ignored him. You grasped the golden handle with a heavy hand, breathing unsteady as he stood in the distance in your peripheral. As though the world stood still again, Eddie felt that he had broken through. You would turn, talk to him, and let him relish in the company of you. 

Yet, you grasped that handle tighter. 

But, you did turn. 

And when you opened the door back to the dressing room, it wasn’t only you whose memories transported you back to the night in Chicago that plagued your mind, but Eddie too. Straight back as he made his way to the men’s dressing room in the opposite direction. 

“Stop being such an asshole!” You stood in the kitchen, hands clutching the sink as the anger seethed out of you. Eddie paced in the living space just beyond the island to your right. 

“What do you want me to say, huh?” He threw his arms up in defeat. “For once in my life things are finally looking up and people just don’t get signed to a label and expected not to do—” he fumbled his words, “everything that comes with it!”

“I’m not asking you to give up music, Eddie!“ 

“Then what are you asking me?” He craned his head to the side, hands on his hips and breathing hard. “I can’t work from here. I have to go there and the least you could do is come with me.” 

The least you could do. The least you could do. 

You tossed the dish rag that had been strangled in your grip into the sink, focusing on the window positioned across from it and scoffed. A view of the goddamn ‘L’ train tracks you despised.

“Well I can’t just get up and move,” you said as calmly as you could. “Why is it so easy for you to ask that of me but when I bring up what I want, it becomes a problem for you?” 

Eddie shook his head, hair mused as he ran a hand over it. “I don’t make it a problem, baby.” 

“Yes, you do!” You laughed exasperatedly. “You just fucking said—“ a frustrated groan left your lips and you bounded off the sink and faced him from behind the counter. “It’s not like this is Hawkins; it’s goddamn Chicago and I’ll be dammed if there isn’t a music producer in one of those skyscrapers.” 

“They’re not like they are out there. If we want any chance to make music–actually make music of our own that sells platinum records and wins awards–those producers are out there,” he pointed to the door as if it signified a world beyond this one. 

“What? So, it’s all about money?” 

“No! But hell, if that isn’t a major part of it I’d be lying!” 

“And what about our home here?” You put your hands on the counters ledge and the nails on your fingertips motioned against it with rhythmic clicks. “Everything we’ve built here goes to shit because of one possible record deal?” 

“It’s not just one deal,” Eddie groaned your name in frustration, “It’s the only deal and this… this here,” he motioned around the apartment, “was only ever temporary.” 

News to you. 

“Like Hawkins was. This isn’t really home.” 

“Not home?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Then where the hell do you think it is? You bolted from Hawkins the second you got the chance and as far as I am concerned, this is my home. You see those pictures on the wall?” 

You tipped your head in the direction of the wall that the couch sat up against. Above it was a collage of frames that held so many memories. From Nancy to Max, from Steve to Mike, everyone was on that wall. 

“Those people helped us find this one.” 

“Well,” he shook his head, “they can help us find another in California. There are people out there, baby. Real goddamn people that know just what we need.” 

Not you, Corroded Coffin. What they needed. 

“It’s not going to find us all the way out here.” 

“Tell me, when was the last time you were excited to come home?” 

He had been traveling the world with Corroded Coffin for a year and a half. In all of that time, he had come home for approximately two months. Eight weeks out of seventy-eight. This wasn’t the first fight about it; he had changed. The stronghold fame was suffocating him and was the very thing drawing you apart. 

“Hm?” You hummed as he diverted his eyes to the apartment door. 

“I’m here now.” 

“That wasn’t my question, Eddie,” the ground rumbled beneath you. The way his eyes darted to the door as if it were calling him to leave. Foundation cracked and crumbled, fragmenting as the words threatened to tumble out. “Do you even want to be here?” 

“If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here, yeah?” He looked annoyed, lips nearly flattened. That’s how you knew he was angry. Angry at life, at you, at the world. 

“Eddie,” you pleaded softly in one last attempt to salvage the broken platform, “stop lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying.” 

“Yes, you are!” You breathed in deeply, thinking of the unthinkable questions that pondered in your mind. “I’m not asking you to stay because I don’t want you to follow your dreams—you twisted my words—but why can’t I be the selfish one and want to stay here? You’ll have more money, you can visit and we— “ 

Can work it out. It was already over when he said he had been signed that godforsaken deal. 

He said your name dejectedly. It hung there in the air as if saying ‘stop trying.’ You felt a lump form in your throat as you looked him, already decided in what he wanted because he was going after his dream. Halfway there, this was his out. 

The tears gathered at the sides of your eyes, “you don’t even try.” 

Eddie always had something to say but he couldn’t form words in that moment. 

“What?” You steeled your wet eyes on him, “can’t even say that you had? Or that you were? Eddie, I’ve been doing this alone for so long that I don’t even remember the last time you told me you loved me and you meant it.” 

That set him off. He pointed a bitter finger at you. “I always mean it when I say it. Don’t play that card.” 

“Card!?” You cried, “I’m not trying to guilt trip you into staying but you don’t mean it! Eight weeks! Eight weeks in a fucking year and a half and you expect me to get up and throw my life away for you?” 

“I was on tour! Halfway across the goddamn world!” 

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, turning away from him and trying to escape to the bedroom but you could hear his heavy feet following. 

“Stop it,” he said your name over and over as you gripped the door and tried to close it. He pressed his palm against it with a hard slap and pushed it against the wall with a deafening thud. “Would you just stop!” 

“For Fuck’s Sake!” You yelled, “I can’t move! I don’t want to move! I have a lease, a good job, and I want to stay here and build my future!” 

“You can have that in California!” He yelled back. 

His eyes were wide, trying to pretend the antithesis of the fracture was anything less than his career. 

“No, I can’t!” 

“Why not!?” 

“Because of you! You don’t want what I do!” You screamed at him, voice breaking as you cried and realized that this was the end. Eddie would move out to California and you’d be left in a tiny apartment in Chicago alone. 

“I want a family, Eddie. I want to raise kids here or in the stupid suburbs, and grow old here. You want to be a—” you swallowed hard, cheeks wet and eyes getting puffy, “—rock star and those lives don’t mix. They just don’t.” 

He was only twenty-five. He didn’t really know what he wanted from life. 

“You don’t want to be here. That’s why you haven’t come home and I get it, I do. The band is growing, you’re popular, you have a million women to choose from, but I can’t keep pretending that my wants have to be ignored for you to succeed.” 

“Are you saying I’ve ignored you?” 

“You tell me, Eddie,” you shrugged, “how would you feel if the person you loved most was gone for months only to be reassured that everything was fine by a phone call every few days?” 

He let his head tip to the floor, eyes closed because although many of the cracks stemmed from his choices, this wasn’t what he wanted. Eddie wanted to be happy, to be in love and be loved. But he was at the precipice of being what he always wanted and decisions had to be made. 

Callous and resentful decisions. 

“Do you hate me?” Eddie’s eyes spurred something in him. A hatred for himself, a despised feeling growing that a part of him that had always been missing—family—was being ripped away for a dream. 

“I don’t hate— “ 

“Yes, you do,” he looked up, giving you a knowing look as his bottom lip trembled. 

“No, I don’t. But I’m hurt and I don’t think you see that.” 

“So,” he cleared his throat, breath hitching in his chest, “this is it then? We’re just going to give up?” 

“I didn’t give up, Eddie,” you needn’t say the rest to indicate that he had. “We just want different things.” 

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” you shook your head, sitting down on the edge of the bed with your face turned away from him. “Right now we do and it’s not doing anything for either of us.” 

It was quiet for a few minutes. Minutes. A thick fog fell over the room; marinating in every picture, the clothes folded away in the dresser, the shampoo in the shower, the two dinner plates half-cleaned in the sink. Domesticity wasn’t enough. Love wasn’t enough.

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but Eddie’s socked feet moved from the spot he stood in and approached the bed—carefully and freely. He knelt down, hands on the outsides of both your thighs and his thumbs rubbed the tops of them gently, the pressure soothing when it shouldn’t have been through your jeans. 

“I want you to be happy…” he swallowed thickly as he chose his words gently. There was no point in trying to stop you from crying when he couldn’t do so himself. “I want you to have what you want, sweetheart… and if I can do that… someday… we’ll find each other again.” 

“Eddie…” Your heart ached as you shook your head. Hope was the killer of it all. 

Hope that perhaps one day you’ll find each other again; that you’d both be free to choose the paths that crossed while maintaining your own personalities and careers without giving one up. Hope that a future existed when the flame was extinguished on a cold evening in Chicago. 

“I’m sorry,” he rubbed your thighs tenderly. 

“Me too.” 

“I love you,” he said softly as if were one last confession. The tears were quietly flowing when you leaned forward, cupping the back of his head with your hands and resting your forehead on his own. 

Just to hold him one last time. 

“I love you too.” He left the apartment an hour later and it was the last time you had seen him. No contact, no cards, and no one, in the group of friends you shared, brought up the other on purpose.

The reception was noisy. 

Like a zoo full of animals that were awakened by a whistle only they could hear; sounds of song’s you hadn’t heard since high school played from the small band the Wheeler’s had insisted on just beyond the designated space for dancing. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were losing it on the floor since the second a Michael Jackson song emitted its first few strings. 

Steve and Nancy were hand in hand greeting guests at their tables as others made their way to the bar, dessert table, or chatted with drinks in their hands. 

At the head table, El and Max were positioned at the end talking in whispers about the people in the room and you sat like a lone duck near the center of it. An abundance of flowers in white and yellow flanked the table before you, empty dishes and scattered bags and goods littered its table top. Mike left a pack of cigarettes in his spot while Dustin’s best man speech was crumbled in a quarter-fold beside his sweating glass of coke. 

Time had left you behind; sitting solemn at your best friend’s wedding while everyone else put on their best smiles and grinned their way through the evening. And maybe that’s what observation had led you to believe, that you looked as though you were wallowing in self-pity for an absence of love in your life. Loveless at an event so full of it. 

You fiddled with the necklace absent mindedly. 

The room of excitable tunes slowed. 

Couples–married and not, grabbed their partners for a dance. Robin and Eddie were standing near the center of the room beside the table that all the parents were at when Veronica slid next to Eddie, her hand slinking down his arm and into his palm as she nodded to the growing group on the dance floor. 

Hours ago, you had looked back at him when he pleaded with you to stay. Now, as his hand was gripped by a woman he wasn’t sure why he had even invited, Eddie looked back from the center of the room and to the head table where you sat. 

Veronica pulled him away before he could make a choice. 

Robin leaned against one of the chairs, watching as Eddie trailed behind the woman in orange. She did not realize Joyce and Hopper were still sitting at the table she rested against. 

“What the hell was that?” Hopper voiced, hand pointing in Eddie’s direction like a finger gun. He had a mustache that was perfectly trimmed and highlighted his frown well. Joyce crossed her arms with scrutiny.  

Robin shrugged, sighing as she turned around and pulled out a chair to sit at the table. “Two idiots in love, I think.” 

“Jesus,” Hopper scratched his forehead, “I knew it was a bad idea…” he mumbled as he watched Eddie pretend to be interest in what the woman was telling him as they danced. 

“What?” Robin shook her head, “What was a bad idea?” 

“Them breaking up!” He said as if it were obvious. “I got a call from one of the bartenders at The Hideout that there was a scuffle goin’ on one Friday night a few years ago and when I got there, Eddie was there just fuckin’ bombed on the sidewalk.” 

Joyce nodded along to his words because she had heard the story before. Robin listened intently as Hopper continued. 

“I couldn’t understand a word he was sayin’ so I put him in the truck and offered to drive him to her parents’ house because that’s where they always stayed when they came to town and he just… cried. Drunk and sobbing his goddamn eyes out in the front of my truck.” 

“Was this recent or…?” Robin pondered. 

“No,” Hopper shook his head, “years back but he was goin’ on about how he was a bad boyfriend and they broke up and he was moving to California in a few days… I just thought to myself ‘shit, man, I have never seen someone so bent out of shape from a breakup.’ Those two… If it weren’t Steve and Nancy gettin’ hitched, I would have bet money on it that it was them instead.” 

“Every Tuesday he’d pick her up from Melvald’s and take her out. He had flowers for her every time,” Joyce recalled. “I asked her about it once,” she nodded and looked at how you watched Eddie with the other woman, “she said that he never had a good example of what it meant to be a good boyfriend. I guess his dad was a piece of shit,” Hopper hummed a knowledgeable assurance that she was right. “And he wanted to be the only example he could think of–be that good guy that she deserved.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Robin said quietly. 

“I told him he needed to fly back to Chicago and fix things,” Hopper added, “but I guess he was too beaten up about it; probably thought she’d slam the door in his face.” 

“Doubt it,” Robin snorted, “I don’t think they’re idiots,” she corrected herself, “I think they know exactly what the other one is thinking but are too scared to get hurt again if it doesn’t work out.” 

Hopper scooted his chair back, adjusting his pants and jacket as he stood from the table. “Well, then we’ll just have to make it happen–or,” he clarified, “get them in the same spot.” 

Robin swiveled in her chair as Hopper rubbed Joyce’s shoulder as he passed behind her, heading straight for the head table and directly to you. 

Jim Hopper wasn’t a man that could be missed in a crowd of hundreds. His bulky frame that towered over guests and moved about the room like a boulder in grass drew your eyes to the movement immediately. He passed by Max and Eleven at the end of the table, never missing the opportunity to pat the girl he raised into a wonderful young lady on the head. 

It was a nice distraction from Eddie and Veronica swaying to a melodic tune. 

“Hey kid,” Hopper pulled out the chair beside you labeled with a table marker for ‘Robin Buckley.’ 

You gave him a closed smile. “Hi Chief.” 

“I guess I can’t really call you ‘kid’ anymore,” he groaned, chuckling as he sat down with an ache all older men his age did. “I blink and you all grow up… makes me feel like a real old man,” and then he gave you that sly, side grin that made you wish Hopper was your dad instead of the one you had. 

“You’re not old, Hopper,” he managed to pull a small laugh from your lips. The dejected film washing away for a brief second in time. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat as he put an elbow on the table and adjusted himself in the seat to face you, “that makes me feel a little better about my age. So,” Hopper gave a pointed look that answered the hundreds of questions as to what Robin was chatting to him and Joyce about, “what are you sitting all the way over here for? Don’t want to chat or dance?” 

“Just tired,” you told him, “Nance didn’t pick the most sensible shoes.” 

“Robin took hers off; I’m sure you can do the same.” 

“And walk barefoot on this floor?” You snorted. “Never.” 

He shared the amusement before turning his gaze to the groups of people beyond the tables as they danced. A goddamn direct view. ‘Cruel,’ he thought. And surpassing the stone of the church from hours before, the beach where it trickled rain as photos were snapped for scrapbooks forever, and the smells of delicious food filled his belly before reaching his mouth, Jim Hopper felt the love that filled the room. 

It touched him, as it had you and everyone else on the wedding weekend of Steve and Nancy Harrington. 

Joyce was attempting to occupy Robin in conversation but every time Jim’s eyes met hers, he knew they were both far too curious and nosey to not be gossiping about longstanding drama that befuddled even the most romantically inclined. 

The woman that restored his faith in the prospect of love and devotion had witnessed the earliest of your own. Tuesday’s at the local mart, the way Eddie would hold the door for you and attempt to steal magazine’s off the rack just to get your attention. How Eddie drove you around when your car was in the shop and eventually, would take the little rascals of Hellfire with for soda and snacks before their campaigns began–but also because he wanted to see you if even for a minute. 

Although people often judged the idea of love at a young age, Jim and Joyce both recognized its honesty between Eddie and yourself. It was pure, unadulterated, and basked in a light that only belonged to the longevity of companionship. 

“You know, the moment I knew I loved Joyce, I thought I’d never get her.” 

Hopper could see Eddie and his date having their own conversation, whatever it may have been, because a blank face melted from one of an increasing lack of emotion, to one of strife. 

“And when I did, I thought she’d see a different man than the one I believed I was.”

“She would have been blind not to see the real you, Hopper,” Joyce smiled at you as you caught her eyes. “You always tried to help us be the best versions of ourselves and she did too. If that’s not a perfect match, I don’t know what is.” 

“Are you the best version of yourself now?” He questioned, tapping his finger onto the white tablecloth of the table. “Weddings can be… sobering… but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person look as distant as you.” 

“Flattery never was your strong suit, Hopper,” you grimaced, “and I’m fine,” you weren’t fine. “You didn’t have to come save me from myself.” 

“So, there aren’t a million thoughts swimming around in that mind of yours? I know I’m not the most intuitive dad there is but believe me when I say I’ve been trained to know when somethin’ just quite ain’t right.” 

“I have hundreds of thoughts racing through my brain. ‘Why is the cake so far away?’ ‘Rob and Joyce can stop staring at me any second now,’ and perhaps my favorite thought, ‘why does Jim Hopper care about my state of mind?” Combative. He knew the signs. 

“Maybe Jim Hopper knowns that the girl deep down inside of you just needs to heal,” he said honestly. “But there is only one way to heal what’s been lost and let me tell you, it’s not going to come waltzing on down here as you sit and mope.” 

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” You scoffed at yourself, “that this wedding has only made me jealous about what I don’t have.” 

“I don’t think you’re jealous, kid,” Hopper deflated, “I think you’re realizing a mistake was made somewhere along the lines of your own life.” 

Mistake. It was that goddamn word again. 

“There’s been no mistake,” you shook your head at him, “everything has played out the way it was meant to.” 

“And you really believe that?” 

“There had been nothing in my life to prove me otherwise.” 

“And lying was never your strong suit, kid,” he put on his ‘dad’ face. “You don’t have to talk to me, fine, but if I asked to be the first person to ask for a dance tonight, would you say no?”

How could you deny Jim Hopper, Police Chief and hero of Hawkins, Indiana? You couldn’t. Even if you were flailing for support in an ocean of heartache, sparing one dance for the man was cinch. He rose from the chair, holding out his arm in hopes that you would link yours through his and entertain him one dance as Steve and Nancy added themselves to the pairs on the dance floor and swayed gently to a new song. 

His stature would block a view you’d rather not see. 

“You may be the only person to ask me to dance,” you joined him on your feet. “I can’t say no to you, Chief.” 

“That’s the spirit, kid.”

“Why did you bring me here?” 

Veronica’s voice cut through the music as couples and pairs settled onto the dance floor with the melodic hum of a song playing through sets of speakers. Instead of dancing like an adult, she had flung both her arms over Eddie’s shoulders and linked her hands behind his head. He had no choice other than to put his hand at her waist; the fabric of her orange dress was coarse under his fingertips. 

“I asked you to come,” Eddie replied. “I thought I told you that last night.” 

Ah, yes. Last night; where Steve made a scene about Eddie’s lingering feelings of letting another woman go while she sat beside him with the best intentions.

Veronica did not know Eddie Munson–the guy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks by fate, the one who had a strange group of friends that shared varying interests and ran in different social circles, or someone who threw everything he had into a career he realized wasn’t as glamorous as the cameras and magazines made it out to be. 

He cursed those Rolling Stone magazines he scoured when he was a bit too early for closing time of Melvald’s. 

“Yeah,” Veronica said as if that hadn’t mattered in the slightest, “and here you are, barely even touching me or sparring me a second look. You know I had to sit by some stoner guy for dinner and they didn’t believe you could bring someone like me.” 

Eddie narrowed his eyes, taken aback by her comment. “What’s that supposed to mean? Those are good people. And I was a huge fuckin’ stoner once too.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she shook her head, “I mean, they didn’t see me with you. Not because of who I am or who you are, but because it wasn’t right.” 

“You know,” Eddie lowered his voice when he caught the eye of Dustin dancing with Suzie not two feet away from him, “you’re sounding an awful lot like someone who’s about to dump someone else.” 

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Her eyebrows quirked as she tipped her head to the side. “Why waste more time on me?” 

Even if his heart raced in another direction, the sound of someone saying that to Eddie was bothersome. 

“Please don’t say that,” he said, “you’re not a waste of time.” 

“But for someone else’s love, I am,” Veronica’s lips extended into a thin line. “That’s not a bad thing, Eddie… It just means I’m not the one for you.” 

The chords of the music sobered him. 

Across the room, sitting desolate at the dinner table, his heart called. 

“Afford me this dance,” Veronica continued, “and when the time comes, do what makes you happy, however difficult that may be. She may not run into your arms as she once did,” as the motions swayed the pair, she faced the table as Jim Hopper approached. “That doesn’t mean love doesn’t exist.” 

She felt Eddie’s shoulder’s deflate from the tension he had been holding in the entire day–nay, two days–since the prospect of you had become a reality. 

“I abandoned her,” Eddie admitted quietly to her, “like a fucking ragdoll for some dream that really isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.” 

Veronica did not know every detail. She did not know the exact history, nor did she fully grasp the levity of a near decade of love being tossed to the side for a pipedream. But she did know what it was like to leave an abundance of life behind to chase a want. 

Yet the model had never seen a group so peculiar as the one he belonged to. The tightknit communal that leaned on each other like family even though many were from different corners. She had seen the binds of friendship like never before. She had seen a broken love bonded by pain from across a candlelight tabletop and wondered why she had ever been invited if that would always have been the outcome. It was as though two ships hadn’t sailed passed one another but docked; lengths of a life finally running out of individual ink before relying on two for competition. 

“You both hurt each other,” she settled, “that is what separation does. But…” she chuckled, “I have been in love before and I’ve never witnessed such a feeling when being in the presence of the two of you–and I don’t even know her…” 

“She won’t talk to me,” Eddie confided. “I tried, earlier today because she was on the verge of a breakdown over a necklace and she could barely look at me.” 

“Don’t you think it may be because if she did, she’d fall all over again?” 

The song was coming to a close. 

“There is nothing wrong with pain, Eddie. Feeling pain, wanting to be healed, and being scared of that healing… and maybe she’ll need time. She loves you. I know she does because when women know, they know.” 

Jim Hopper stood from the chair. 

There was a comradery he felt in Veronica. Romance beside itself, the woman was a chakra. She had looked into a future he could barely imagine himself and pulled the heroic card before it was dealt. These cards overturned like quicksand settling between his toes. 

“You know,” Eddie gave her a sly, friendly grin, “you sound an awful lot like those odd fortune tellers that sell their services on the strip.” 

Veronica laughed; whole-heartedly, warmly. “Maybe in a previous life I was,” she played, “but in yours, there has always been one path and I guarantee you, from one romantic to another, loneliness was never an option for you. It’s what kids dream about–that ‘fairytale…’ Even if it is a little bit messy.” 

You linked your arm with Jim’s. 

“I’ve always been a little too messy,” Eddie said sheepishly. 

“I can tell,” Veronica groaned, “You don’t have to be perfect for her. Imperfection seizes our hearts faster than perfection… it’s enough to haunt us when perfection tears that apart.” 

“El isn’t dancing with anyone.” 

Jim Hopper held one hand in his and the other on the upper half of your back. It was as though he was dancing at an elementary father-daughter dance than anything else, stiff in his hulking frame. The music did nothing to silence your rapidly forming thoughts that Eddie and Veronica were feet away; Eddie’s eyes caught yours as Jim helped you to the floor, an anguish in them acted as a puzzle waiting to be pulled apart. 

In the eyes that watched Veronica rip the persona he had gathered for himself in the years past, Eddie could only imagine you. He waited for them to turn into your own, for her laugh to morph into yours, for her hands to run through his hair as yours once did, and the comfort of her presence to become you. Looking for that glimpse, Eddie found it inside of his imagination; searching every corner of it to find a home for his torment–self-inflicted and its mortal consequences bleeding life from him like a sieve. 

“It’s those sensible shoes…” Hopper joked. “Her feet are killing her. A couple blisters later, she’s sworn them off forever.” 

“I don’t blame her,” Lucas and Max joined the pairs beside you. The red-headed girl rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed in the utmost content state she could be in. True love. 

“How many dances do you have in your feet?” 

“Why?” You questioned. “Am I a better partner than Joyce? She was always rather clumsy.” 

“No,” he laughed but could not disagree, “I just think those boys won’t end the evening without asking you. I think Dustin’s always had a little crush on his former babysitter.” 

“I don’t think,” you tipped your head at him, “I know he’s always had a crush on me.” 

Dustin Henderson had always been a cute boy. His pure child-like imagination and motivation had inspired you to explore your own interests without fear. You had watched him from five until his mother decided he didn’t need you anymore, but you were lucky to call him a friend now. 

“But he’s got Suzie,” you could see the two giggling as everyone danced around them. “And I can’t think of a more natural person for him. I think they’re next,” your eyes moved themselves around the room, “to get married.” 

“Too many childhood sweethearts in my opinion,” Hopper’s gruff voice was certain in that. “Not everyone is meant to be with their first loves.” 

“I think they are… just like Steve and Nancy, just like Max and Lucas.” 

“And you and Eddie.” Not a question, a statement. 

It was the scoff that left your lips that made his hopes for you feel weak. “That chapter ended, Chief. He’s moved on, so have I.” 

“No,” he clarified, “you haven’t. You wouldn’t have been moping around your best friend’s wedding if you were.” 

“I wasn’t moping,” you defended, “Jonathan was moping. I’m pretty sure he cried and had decent reason to but I was just… people watching.” 

“Person watching. You were watching Eddie and there’s nothing wrong with it,” he asserted. “You love him. There is no shame in it.” 

“Why is everyone so interested in how I feel?” Your face put on the mask of a scorned lover. Eyes drawn narrow and brows forming a crease in its center. “This is Nance and Steve’s wedding, their only wedding if they’re lucky, and I’ve had person after person question how I feel about something I no longer have.” 

“Maybe it’s because for once we all see the truth of it all…” He had seen the truth as a washed-up Eddie cried in his truck. “That the pain of the past isn’t worth the loneliness of the future.” 

“A true poet,” you mumbled, “but I’m fine. I promise you, I’m fine.” 

“I’ve said it before,” Hopper chuckled, “and I will always say it to you, but you’re a terrible liar.” 

“Lies be lies, Chief. But there’s no point in trying to make me feel better about feelings I can’t control.” 

“No one is asking you to control them,” you turned your head away from Jim’s and clocked Lucas eavesdropping. He gave a strained, tight smile before resting his cheek onto Max’s head. “That isn’t what we’re trying to do… I want the kids I watched grow up to be happy and you’re not happy, he’s not happy. I don’t know if the answer to that equation is the two of you finding each other again but I’ve never been a man capable of understanding the love you had. And that sound ridiculous coming from someone as old as your old man.” 

“I can’t even be in the same room as him without feeling like breaking down,” your voice was quiet, a mere whisper of what it was because the prospect of Eddie still having feelings for you was frightening. You didn’t want to end up becoming a ghost again. 

“It’s like I’m a nobody in a room full of somebody’s and they can’t see me.” 

“Someone will always see you,” his eyes were gentle. “He saw you when he couldn’t see himself.” 

“Then why did he leave?” 

And the way Hopper’s body stood taller, his gaze no longer meeting yours, and turning you cold told you the world was ending. This love, imploded if it couldn’t exist between the two of you, was bubbling to the surface like a volcano. Here, on the island of Nantucket, a tsunami couldn’t save you from emotional ruin. 

“I think that’s a question you’ll have to ask him.” 

Veronica’s hand extended into your peripheral vision. She held it out to Jim like a lifeline. 

“Do you mind if I steal him?” Her body came into view and you needn’t know the conversation the two had to know she had led Eddie back to you. “I need to hear all about this ‘hero of Hawkins!’”

“I’m not the hero,” Jim said rather sheepishly. “That’s all him.” 

You could feel Eddie’s presence in a room of hundreds of a room of one. It enveloped you into a cocoon against your fighting mind. 

“Those are strong words coming from you, Chief.” His voice rung out against the music. Eddie had been on the poor graces of Chief Jim Hopper for many a year before the man had seen Eddie for what he was: a good, kind man with a fierce complex.

Jim looked to you. “You got this, kid. I’ve got another partner now, so do you.” 

He took Veronica’s arm and linked it through his arm like an elderly man who needed help walking. He wasn’t that old. She took him away without a glance back at the one who had asked her to come. 

“Now,” Eddie cleared his throat from behind you, “I could ask you to dance or,” he had put on that voice like there were more options than he had, “we can go outside, sit down, and maybe you’ll talk to me.” 

‘Look at me. Why won’t you look at me,’ his words echoed in your mind. 

When you turned around to face him, he got his wish. 

Eddie looked hopeful, as if it were the permanent face he wore. His eyes were the smallest bit glassy, hands stuffed into his pockets, and the shine of his shoes to the wear of his tie was different than he had ever worn before. He was still him, yet so different all the same. 

“If we talk,” you felt like you swallowed a frog, “no lies. I don’t want to hear any lies.” 

“Wouldn’t think of it.” 

The night was cold. 

Springtime enfolded the shores of Nantucket; cattails and tall grasses billowing, soft sounds of ocean waves lapping muted the music from inside. Adirondack chairs lay vacant, pillows dewed and their wood smooth. 

You couldn’t bear to sit down. 

Allowing the night air to take you, Eddie shut the door behind him and felt the scene before him play at the edge of a cliff; every piece of you blowing away against a yearning to stay. He began shrugging his jacket off and you held out a hand in front of you. 

“I’m fine,” the frost bit at your voice. “Keep it.” 

“You’re freezing,” Eddie continued to remove his piece. “I’m not going to be an asshole and let you freeze to death because you’re stubborn.” 

You scoffed. “I am not stubborn. I don’t need it, end of story.” 

He tugged it off, folding it in his hands before tossing it on one of the chairs that separated the distance between you. His tie was long undone, the two buttons at the top of his shirt undone but the cufflinks remained. You wanted to take the jacket. You wanted to recall his scent and warmth but your stubbornness in protection vexed you. 

“Fine,” he huffed. 

“Fine,” You replied in kind. 

Only the note of waves filled the stillness. You both looked at one another as though a million years had gone by in the blink of an eye. Not unlike the seconds passed in the wine cellar the night before, the world seemed to dissipate to a single existence of two former lovers. Two people, in spite of themselves, who haven’t felt whole since a single moment six years before. 

Goosebumps raised on your skin, the jacket appeared delectable yet an item of fear as it sat, calling to say ‘put it on,’ only to be followed by a whisper of ‘forgive me.’ 

“I can’t imagine that small talk is what you wanted to discuss,” you started. 

“I don’t believe it’s what you would want either,” he countered, “and we both know that would get us nowhere.” 

“So, what?” You lightly shook your head. “You want me to ask how your life has been and catch up on all I’ve missed? There’s a reason I don’t read gossip magazines anymore… I don’t need to see beautiful women rubbed in my face or success showing me that my pain was worth something more.” 

“A lot of those things are lies,” Eddie walked his icy path with steady feet. “You don’t need to read them, no. But I would hope you still cared enough to ask about me when you visit Rob and Nance, not to mention Steve never brings you up to me.” 

“Oh, you mean the literal effort they all put in to never mention you around me?” You gazed at him as though the reason you never asked about him, or they never spoke about him, was obvious. It hurt too much. “It’s not exactly a cake walk, Eddie, to hear about your fantastic life when I could barely hold my own together.” 

“It’s not fantastic and if you asked, you would have known that.” 

“And it’s my responsibility to learn that? Did you want me to reach out, ask how you’ve been, and get lunch like you didn’t fucking break my heart?” You gawked. Eddie took his hands from his pockets and put them on his hips–a Steve move he had taken upon after establishing their friendship. “If I couldn’t talk about you, I don’t know how the hell I would have talked to you.”  

“Then maybe I should have called,” like an easy solution, “and maybe instead of… what was it Steve said? Trading holidays liked a divorced couple, we could have been civil and spent time with our friends together.” 

“Was that when you were traveling the world or recording records?” You pursed. “Or when you moved out to California and visited once a year? Tell me, Eddie, is a hypothetically cordial relationship something you really want with me? I can barely feel the world turn as it is when I’m in your presence, I doubt I would be able to have a good time with our friends.” 

Eddie laughed savagely. “I didn’t know all the fun had been sucked out of you.” 

You took a step back, careening your head out toward the ocean as you bit your cheek. He had gall. He was bold and unflinching, but his eyes told the truth. His own pain and suffering at the consequences of his actions had let the light leave him for so long. When pain overtook a person’s being, anger and callous language followed. 

“If you’re going to be an ass,” you looked back to him, “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“It isn’t the truth, though? I’ve at least tried to have a halfway, goddamn decent time at this wedding and every time I looked at you, you’ve been nothing but bitter.” 

“No one asked you to look at me, Eddie. You brought a date. You should focus on her.” 

“How could I!?” A dam had broken inside of him. He couldn’t not look at you. “Every time I think I’ll give someone else a chance, it’s like seeing a fucking ghost in my mirror! I have to look at you. I need to look for you.” 

“No, you don’t!” You exclaimed with as much passion. “You lost that when you walked out! I am sorry that I am so shitty for being sad at a beautiful wedding. I am sorry for wishing that this time, maybe it was me walking down that goddamn aisle. And for fuck’s sake, I am so sorry that I am fearful that you’ll finally move on and want to marry someone else! Jesus fuck! It’s been six goddamn years and I still think that you’ll come walking through the door and say you made a mistake but I don’t want to hear that tumbling out of Steve’s mouth. I don’t want it to be based in lies because you feel bad I am sad at my best friend’s wedding.” 

“I love you,” he blurted out without reason. 

“Don’t say that!”

“Why!?”

“Because it isn’t true! IF I was, you never would have left! You wouldn’t have asked me to throw my life away and follow you to the ends of the fucking earth! If I wasn’t just some body, maybe somebody would love me enough to stay,” You argued loudly. 

“I do love you,” He argued back with the same ferocity. 

“You did. You don’t anymore.” 

“I do love you. I do. I haven’t fucking stopped loving you since I was seventeen and I don’t think I ever will stop. I will always love you, I have always loved you, and I know that when I am dying, I will die loving you,” he was breathless. Angered and pent up with emotions he had buried deep where his eyes were fiery and his tone was firm. 

“You can’t say things like that…” Fuck the tears that loved to threaten to fall.

“Why!? Tell me why I can’t tell the truth. You asked me not to lie and I wouldn’t do that to you!”

“Becau–” you stammered the word as your mind racked itself for answers, “because it’s not fair to me! I can’t live another day knowing that someone else out there loves you in a way that I do. I can’t keep waiting around in my shitty, fucking life for someone who walked out of it for something bigger than me.”

“And it was a mistake! I will never forgive myself for it but please, even if it’s the last thing you do, please believe that it was. I never should have asked that of you, I was selfish. I knew what I wanted in life then because it hasn’t changed. It existed deep down but was scared to come to the surface and I needed to be pulled under to see that. I love you. I love you so goddamn much that every day without you has been the most unbearable few years of my life. I want you, and only you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” your lip trembled, face hot. 

“I’m not lying,” his own eyes watery. “Please, I am not lying to you.”

“I don’t think you know how much you hurt me, Eddie,” you shook your head at him. “There are times when I don’t feel like myself because you took that away from me. I don’t depend on anyone; I’d never say that I lost everything when you left but you cracked me open, slaughtered me in the place we shared because of a dream. And believe me, really, that I am so happy you found that life but how can I know that my suffering was worth it? 

“You don’t think I suffered too?” He exclaimed loudly at the sky. “I went to Hawkins, you know, after everything because I didn’t have anywhere to go.” You didn’t know.

“I got so fucking drunk at a bar that Hopper had to come scrape me off the sidewalk and from what I remember, I exploded in the truck when he tried to take me to your parent’s place. Do you know what he did? Let me sleep on the couch and when Eleven got up the next day, she held my hand and told me that I’d be okay and I haven’t been okay. I’ve never been okay without you and I’m not scared to admit that. You are my lifeline, sweetheart. I have tried to replace that feeling but I can’t.”

“Do you know how long I wished for you to walk through that door?” You pointed to the door you walked through as if it could transform itself into the one of the apartment you shared. “I sat there, waiting for you because I barely remembered a life where you weren’t part of it and that was hard enough to imagine when it slammed in my goddamn ears,” you huffed, eyes nearly ablaze as his committed declarations of love echoed through every vacant place inside of you and right back to the moment he left. 

“There is not a day that goes by where I don’t question why you let it go so easily.” 

“It wasn’t easy,” Eddie stressed your name exasperatedly, “nothing about that choice was easy.” 

“You made it seem like it was.” 

Eddie felt the grounding he had built in his mind with his vow of love was strong. He felt the ghosts of the past begin to grip his feet; haunting and pulling him to the depths of his former despair to face a choice chastened by ambition. On the cold, concrete sidewalk and the airy Nantucket patio, it ruptured in spouts. 

Pain, longing, abjection tied to every word; you had tried in obstinate strength to keep the fortress from becoming invaded. That somewhere in your heart there was a knowledge it was stronger than the force of the man that had left you to bleed but it wasn’t. It felt his bullets like bandages. They neither wounded nor massacred its path forward, binding the holes left behind with attestation.

“When I said we wanted different things, why didn’t you tell me what you wanted?” You asked in a voice wavering. “I thought you wanted this life,” a hand painted his figure against the night, “he one with the glitz and glamor and women like Veronica. If you wanted what I did, why toss it to the side?

Eddie shook his head, backing away from you and throwing his hands on top of his head in a connected grasp. He looked out to the water so dark he couldn’t see yet heard. “You remember what I told you about my parents?”

After a second, he returned his gaze to you and in return, you nodded. 

Eddie’s perception of self was deeply rooted in the disjointed childhood he had been forced to experience. Every feeling, every action questioned by himself as to whether the receiving party had viewed it as strange, difficult, or simply heartless. He kept his heart on his sleeve, however, he kept it tethered there. When someone tried to hold it in their own palms, Eddie pulled away. 

It had taken years for him to be comfortable enough with himself to be willing to be someone he liked. 

“It doesn’t just go away with time,” he sighed. “I will always doubt myself. I always fear that I’m one step away from becoming him even if I know I’m nothing like him.” 

For a child of a loveless marriage, a brutal life, the most fearful thing they could imagine was not whether or not they could be loved later in life, it was turning into the people they hated most. 

“It’s not every day that someone comes to your concert and wants to sign you without so much as a demo session… and that overtook me. I know that now, and I knew that the second I walked out the goddamn door. I will apologize for the rest of my life if it means you know how I feel.”

Eddie let that sit. 

“You can hate me forever, I don’t mind. But don’t convince yourself I never cared enough about you.”

“I don’t hate you. I never hated you. And I’m sorry if I made it seem that way.”

Perhaps he would have to convince himself that you never hated him just as you would that he loved you.

“Even when I left?”

“There was not a piece of my body strong enough to feel anything more than empty when that happened.”

“I felt it too, you know,” his eyes shimmered in the lamplight. No joy, no hilarity–just hope that you knew the truth. 

“I do now,” you told him. 

“I’m not asking you to give me a second chance,” Eddie shrugged his shoulders lowly. In a nearly defeated sigh, he took the words he replayed in his mind for two thousand, one hundred and ninety days, “but fuck… I told you I’d find you again if the time was right and the minute I saw you in the archway I knew that was my shot… you’re the same but different… I loved you then and I love the you that you are now. And I’m sorry that it took me that long to realize it.” 

“What did you feel in that church today?” 

A cosmic connection, a fleeting moment he wished to hold onto forever. 

“Eddie,” you took a step forward, closing the distance, “tell me what you felt.” 

“I felt…” He paused. Breathing in deeply, it was not his admissions of love that proved to be most difficult. It was the regret of letting it go that scarred the deepest. “I felt… bitter.” 

“Bitter?”

“Because I don’t have what they do,” he threw a lazy arm toward the door. “Or I did have that and I let it go because of a silly dream.” 

“I don’t think your dream was silly,” you admitted, “it worked out of you in the end.” 

“But at what cost?” Eddie took a step closer to you; the chair with this tuxedo jacket the space that separated you. “Why do those dreams take everything away to make them happen? I didn’t want to do that, this, alone. Not without you.” 

“I felt helpless,” you disclosed. “In that church with the sun streaming in… like a fucking… higher power was saying to me that the way I loved you still existed inside of me. It hasn’t ever truly gone–as much as some moments I wish it was–yet it stays.” 

“Helpless because you love me?” 

“Helpless because I can’t have you.” 

“And why can’t you have me?” Another step closer. “Why do you, the only woman I have ever truly loved, feel you cannot have me?” 

“Because someone else does,” your eyes flashed toward the doors as if Eddie’s proximity and both of your vulnerabilities were forbidden. “Because someone else loves you.” 

“She doesn’t love me,” Eddie’s fingers eclipsed your own. Fanning in a light flutter, it was discovering touch again. “She isn’t mine and I am not hers.” 

He stepped closer again and every one of your senses went spiraling. Eddie leaned his head forward and rested his forehead on your own. Two sets of eyes closed at the sensation. 

“You have all of me. Every part of me since the moment I saw you.” 

“And what do you want?” 

‘I want you to have what you want, sweetheart,’ his words were distant from the past.

“What do you want now?” you asked him, breaking away as your eyes shone to his. His free hand cradled the back of your neck gently, he rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “I know what I want, but I need to hear it from you. No lies.”

“No lies,” he repeated, a quick glanced down at your lips had him soaring. “I want you, baby. I’ll only ever want you.” 

“Good,” you whispered, lips barely tracing his for the first time in six years. “Because we’re not letting this go this time.”

“Never.”

And he pulled your lips to his.

To answer the question the chapel had asked you, ‘what is it like to be loved?’, there is only one answer: 

This is what it feels like. Pain, beauty, and joy. There is no bind without strife, nor is there passion without sacrifice. 

And in the years in between said sacrifice, the tethers of a string brushed together until they found one another again on a little island off a blustery coast for the wedding of Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler.

A/N: As always, comments, reblogs are kindly encouraged :) thank you for reading!

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #x female reader #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #angsty as hell bitches #sunday saddies on

[ginnsbaker]

loving an avenger

Summary: The last installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to it's just dinner;

Vision tilts his head slightly, a gesture you've come to recognize as him deep in thought. “If that's a prerequisite for you,” he states presumptuously, like the answer to your prerogative is so startlingly obvious yet you failed to catch them. “Then may I suggest you sleep with her and then ask her to marry you?”

Word count: 3.2k | Tags: Fluff, Marriage Proposals gone wrong , 'Efficent' is Wanda's middle name according to her

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: And that concludes our Dentist AU! All fluff, no tears.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

No matter how many times you repeat it to yourself, you’re never going to get used to the fact that Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

And dating this particular Avenger is both your greatest source of comfort and anxiety.

On the days when it's peaceful, when the weight of the world isn't pressing down on either of you, the indescribable comfort comes from the simplicity of your relationship with Wanda. Those are the days when her protector-of-the-world persona fades into the background, and you get to be with simply Wanda, the woman.

Grocery shopping, for instance, becomes something you look forward to on weekends. Walking down the aisles, hand in hand, you spend more time discussing the virtues of one brand of pasta over another, or debating whether to indulge in a tub of ice cream, than any imminent world threat. Sometimes, Wanda playfully levitates a grape or two, making them dance in the air before popping them into your mouth, her laughter ringing in the quiet corners of the store.

Strolls in the park are as romantic as the candlelight dinners you frequently organize at various fine dining spots in the city, especially after learning that Wanda rarely goes out. You both love laying down on the grass, feeling the sun warming your skin, and the world around fades as you listen to her recount stories from Sokovia, her voice soft and nostalgic. Some days, you carry a little music player, and with wired earbuds shared between the two of you.

And then there are the quiet afternoons at home. The beautiful monotony of those moments is the real magic. With you engrossed in a book and Wanda laughing at sitcom reruns, or the two of you attempting to bake. Baking sessions usually end with more flour on both of you than in the bowl, dough fights, and running around the kitchen before tackling Wanda onto your bed and kissing her silly. Even if the cookies turn out a bit burnt, the warmth is always just right.

On the flip side, when the world demands its due from her, it's pure torment. The darker undertones of dating an Avenger are impossible to ignore. An ever-present undercurrent of anxiety runs deep within you. The unpredictability of her life means that any moment could be the last time you see her smile, hear her laugh, or feel her touch.

The agony of days, sometimes even weeks, without contact from her is torture. Every second feels like an hour, every hour like a day. The silence, the not knowing, is the worst part. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Each time the news reports another battle or threat, your heart clenches, waiting for a hint that she is alright. But more often than not, there's no word, no sign. Just the excruciating wait.

And then there are the times she returns, not as the invincible hero, but as a wounded Wanda. A cut on her lips, a gash across her forehead, or bruises marring her porcelain skin. You often nurse her wounds, fighting back tears and the urge to plead with her to stay, to give it all up.

One evening, in a moment of weakness and sheer fear, you do suggest it.

“Why can't you just leave it all behind? There are other, stronger heroes who can step in,” you murmur to her, both of you teetering on the edge of sleep.

“I caused so much darkness for a long time,” she says, her fingers coming up to trace your cheek and ease the creases on your forehead. “I need to pay my dues. I need to make things right.”

You find it hard to believe, considering the Wanda you know is nothing but a beacon of light. The thought of her having a dark past seems so distant, so unfathomable. Yet, her commitment to redemption is undeniable.

“Until when?” you ask softly, eyes locked onto hers, searching for answers. “When will it be enough?”

Wanda hesitates, her gaze drifting to the ceiling, as if searching for the answers there. “I don't know,” she whispers. “But every day, I try to be better than I was the day before, hoping that one day the scales will balance.”

You turn to face her fully, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Wanda, you've done so much good. You've helped countless people. At some point, you need to forgive yourself too.”

She chuckles lightly, the corners of her mouth turning up. “You know, sometimes I think that maybe it won't be for too long.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because,” she begins, her fingers playfully tracing patterns on your arm, “If I have you by my side, maybe I'm doing something right. I like to think of you as my little reward for turning things around.”

You can't help but laugh at that, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Your 'little' reward? Are you calling me short?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I'm just saying that for all the vastness of the universe, it's the small, unexpected joys that matter the most.”

“Well, in that case,” you grin, your heart swelling in your chest, “I'm honored to be your 'little' joy.”

It always ends up like this. She sneaks in a flirty comment during your serious talks, and somehow, just for a moment, you forget about the worries that'll come back later.

But this is also how you eventually realize that you love her.

No matter what she chooses to do, you swear—even if it kills you, even if it disrupts your peace and turns your world upside down—you'll never leave her side unless she asks you to.

-

Within a week, you're back at the Avengers compound, not to visit Wanda, but to meet with a different Avenger.

Vision.

Wanda is on a small mission with Natasha, and you specifically timed your visit so that she wouldn't be around. You've come with a purpose, one that you're unsure of how it'll be received. 

Finding Vision is no easy task, but after inquiring discreetly, you're directed to a chamber that seems more like a serene meditation space than a room in a superhero compound.

“Vision?” you call out tentatively as you step into the dimly lit room. The chill in the air is so intense it feels like walking into a server room, almost expecting to find rows of computers thrumming in the cold. Instinctively, you pull your doctor's coat tighter around your body.

Vision appears almost instantly. “How may I assist you?”

You exhale slowly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Okay, this is going to sound weird, but... I need some advice about Wanda.” It feels a bit ridiculous as the thought crosses your mind—asking a synthezoid about relationship matters. But he's close to Wanda, and honestly, you're at a loss for who else to ask.

Vision's gaze sharpens a touch, “Go on.”

“I love her,” the words tumble out before you can rein them in. “Every time she's out on a mission, I'm a wreck. I'm always scared something might happen to her. I wish she'd... I don't know, think about retiring? Or at least find some way to be safer. But I have no idea how to even bring it up.”

Vision remains silent for a beat, then replies, “It's not uncommon for those close to Avengers to feel this way. But Wanda's commitment to this role is profound. Asking her to retire would be  asking her to change a fundamental part of who she is.”

“But what about her safety?” you press on rather desperately.

Vision takes a moment, as if deliberating if the term ‘safety’ should even apply to the likes of them, before saying, “In our line of work, there are no certainties. Every mission, every decision carries inherent risks. It's a reality we've all accepted. It's the price of our commitment to a greater good.”

You nod defeatedly. Maybe you were hoping for a different answer. But like the rest, he too prioritizes the greater good above himself. 

“I just wish there was something more I could do,” you say.

Vision steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder in a gesture that's surprisingly comforting coming from a synthetic being. You’re beginning to understand why Wanda considers him her best friend. 

“Your presence in her life, the love you offer, it's more than you realize. Hold onto that,” he says. Then, he looks at you with an unexpected sparkle in his surprisingly soulful eyes. “Have you considered making a lifelong commitment to Wanda?”

You gulp, taken aback. “You mean... marriage?”

The suggestion from Vision was so unexpected, so left-field. But thinking about it, there were times—like when you'd make Wanda laugh and her nose would scrunch up all cute—where the idea did, fleetingly, cross your mind.

(You’re so embarrassed to admit it, but it’s just how your brain works around Wanda Maximoff.)

“Yes,” Vision nods. “Sometimes, offering stability and a promise of forever can provide an emotional security that transcends physical safety.”

For a moment, it strikes you—for someone who isn't even human, he sure has a knack for relationship advice. What Vision is suggesting does make sense: If you can't keep her safe, you'll keep her happy. Sometimes that's the only thing you can do. 

But there’s just one problem.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to say this, but…we haven't even... I mean, we're taking things slow,” you stumble over your words, your cheeks burning at the thought of being with Wanda that way. It's also not the sort of detail you’d anticipated sharing with Vision, of all beings, but it's out now.

Vision tilts his head slightly, a gesture you've come to recognize as him deep in thought. “If that's a prerequisite for you,” he states presumptuously, like the answer to your prerogative is so startlingly obvious yet you failed to catch them. “Then may I suggest you sleep with her and then ask her to marry you?”

Your jaw drops slightly, and you blink a few times, attempting to find words. “Vision, that's...easier said than done,” you manage to say, your voice faltering a bit towards the end. You quickly clear your throat, wondering if the temperature in the room could drop any further, because despite the chill, you're suddenly feeling quite warm in your civilian clothes.

“What do you mean by ‘easier said than done’?” Vision asks, rubbing his chin, no doubt a conscious effort to display his human side. “Do you need me to teach you how to—”

“No!” you blurt out, hands shooting up in a frantic 'stop right there' motion. Your mind races with the myriad of things Vision might've been about to suggest. “I've got a pretty good grasp on...human basics, thanks.” 

“Ah. Noted. I simply meant to offer guidance in whatever form you might need. Perhaps I could download a helpful guide or recommend books?” he asks.

You snort, the image of Vision giving sex education a new meaning now firmly planted in your mind. “No, thanks. I think I'll stick to the old-fashioned way of figuring things out. You know, trial and error, preferably without any downloadable guides.”

He nods, making an exaggerated display of understanding, “Ah, the human way of fumbling through experiences. Intriguing. And very inefficient.”

“Well, humans fumbled their way through evolution, so…”

“An interesting perspective. Still, if ever you need a recommended reading list…”

“No reading lists,” you say with a grin. “Just... help keep her safe. That's all the help I need from you.”

Vision’s lips curl into a slight smile. “Very well. That, I can promise.”

-

Despite your initial reaction to Vision's advice—of sleeping with Wanda and then asking her to marry you—as being ridiculous, it’s all you can think about.

You only realize what you've done after stepping out of the jewelry store, having just purchased an engagement ring with a central ruby stone encircled by tiny diamonds.

-

Tonight is the night.

You’ve set the mood—candles, soft music, the whole shebang. After weeks, maybe even months of hinting and hoping, you’re ready to take the next step with Wanda. Well, at least you think you are. There are two things in particular that are making your palms sweat and your heart race tonight. Firstly, the intimate step you’re trying to take with Wanda. And secondly, the engagement ring you impulsively bought, still tucked inside your back pocket, silently judging you for your timidity.

The two of you are cuddled up on the couch, the distance between you almost non-existent. The movie, 50 First Dates, plays in the background, but neither of you are paying it much attention.

The kissing has been going on for a good two minutes (not that you're counting or anything, but you just so happen to be facing the wall clock), and so, you make your move, your hand finding its way to her back, fingers fumbling clumsily as you try to find the clasp of her bra.

She stiffens and you hold your breath. Oh no. Did you move too fast? Just as a bead of panic-induced sweat is about to roll down your forehead, Wanda turns to you with a knowing look. “Looking for something?”

You stammer, trying to form a coherent sentence, “I just thought—”

She grins, cutting you off, “You do realize I'm wearing a sports bra, right?”

Right. You forgot she just came in from yet another mission. 

Your face turns a shade of red that could give her usual Avenger attire a run for its money. “I didn't... I mean, I couldn’t…”

Wanda laughs, a hearty, genuine laugh, putting you somewhat at ease. “You could've just asked me, you know.”

And before you can process that, with a flick of her wrist and a sparkle of magic, you feel the fabric disappear, replaced by the warmth of her skin. Your fingers freeze in place, feeling the soft flush beneath them.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. “You okay there?”

This. This is how you die—getting a heart attack with your hand under Wanda’s shirt.

Trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity, you manage a wobbly smile, words stumbling over themselves in a race to get out. “I was just... I mean, I thought... I didn't expect you to be so... efficient.”

Her laugh is soft, a touch husky, doing nothing to help calm the racing of your heart. “Darling, 'Efficient' is my middle name.”

You want to point out the countless times her middle was anything but ‘Efficient’ but that would definitely ruin the mood.

“Good to know. Any other magic tricks you're planning to pull tonight?” you ask with a smirk.

She leans in close, her lips grazing your ear. “Guess you'll have to stick around to find out.”

You both shift, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch. In the process, the velvet box containing the ring slips from your back pocket and falls to the floor. As you bend down to pick it up, Wanda gets there first, snatching the box away with her powers just as your fingers graze it.

“What's this?” she asks, her eyes widening in surprise.

For a moment, you're caught in an invisible stasis. “I, uh... it's not what it looks like?” you stutter out, though it's clear by her expression she doesn’t buy it for a second.

With a smirk, she slowly opens the box, revealing the delicate ring inside. Her eyes flit between the ring and your flushed face, her playful smile replaced with an expression of tender surprise. “Is this…”

You swallow hard. “Yes, it is. I was... I was going to ask you. Later. After, well, after other things.”

Wanda laughs, a hint of tears in her eyes. “You were planning on proposing after we...?”

Hearing your idea echoed back by Wanda makes you feel slightly foolish. Darn it, Vision.

“Well, the cat's out of the bag now,” you sigh, looking directly into Wanda's eyes, a surge of bravery taking hold. “And honestly, I don't think I can wait any longer to ask you. I really, truly love you. So, Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?”

Wanda looks down at the ring, then back to your eyes, searching for answers and confirming truths. After losing her entire family, right in front of her is the possibility of starting a new one. A tear escapes from the corner of her eye.

“You had a whole plan, didn't you?” she murmurs, her voice quivering.

“An extremely convoluted and very poorly executed plan, yes,” you admit sheepishly.

Her laugh is light and airy and causes her nose to do that thing you’re so crazy about. “Oh, you...” she trails off, leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss. When she pulls back, she’s beaming. “Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. But maybe let’s deal with one thing at a time tonight, okay?”

“Of course, one thing at a time,” you quickly agree. But then, a wave of insecurity washes over you. “But, just so you know, if after we...you know...if you don't find it... satisfying or if I don't live up to your expectations or anything, you can totally change your mind about the proposal. No pressure or anything.”

Wanda looks amused for a moment, then her expression turns sultry. “Darling, trust me when I say that's not going to be an issue,” she purrs.

You open your mouth to respond but are momentarily derailed when Wanda, with one fluid motion, removes her shirt, rendering you speechless.

Leaning in so that her lips hover just inches from your ear, she murmurs, “I want you so bad, you're really going to have to work hard to change my mind.”

Her fingers trace a lazy path up your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. 

“By the way,” Wanda whispers as you struggle to focus on her words through your half-lidded eyes. “I really, truly love you too.”

After that, words become superfluous. The need to be closer, to feel her against you, overpowers every sense and sensation. And as the seconds and minutes melt away, you find that with Wanda, everything falls perfectly into place.

-

“Just so we’re clear,” you pant out moments later, catching your breath and gazing at the ceiling, “It’s still a ‘yes’, right?”

Wanda's body trembles with laughter next to you, making you grin ear to ear. Before long, you're rolling back on top of her again, ready for round two.

-

The soft lapping of water against the shore serves as nature's own version of wedding bells. Your father's lakehouse, usually a place of quiet reflection and family gatherings, is now adorned with delicate white drapes and soft pastel flowers, transforming it into an intimate wedding venue. 

Steve Rogers, wearing a suit that accentuates his otherworldly physique, gives you a supportive pat on the back. “Nervous?”

“About the wedding or the fact that half the guests could snap me in half with their pinky?” you reply with a nervous chuckle.

“You’ve got this,” he assures you, seeing past your attempt at a lighthearted joke.

As for Wanda, she had never anticipated that half the attendees at her wedding would be dentists, including your parents and a slew of your colleagues. It was a running joke between the two of you; her slight dental phobia up against your chosen profession. But life has a funny way of turning things around. 

Sometimes what we fear the most becomes our strength, and that strength becomes an anchor. And you are hers, as much as she is yours.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #steve rogers #vision

[bylerween2023]

Announcing the daily themes for Bylerween!

Each day has three themes: one horror theme, one in-show theme, and one fluff theme. Feel free to use inspiration from just one, two, or all three themes for each day!

Day 1, October 26:

Ghosts & Hauntings

Trapped in the Upside Down

Haunted House

Day 2, October 27:

Slashers, Gore & Body Horror

Demogorgon & Flesh Monster

Halloween Party

Day 3, October 28:

Demons, Devils & Exorcisms

Will’s S2 Possession

Pumpkin Patch & Apple Orchard

Day 4, October 29:

Psychological Horror

Attacked by Vecna

Sweater Weather

Day 5, October 30:

Came Back Wrong

Flayed!Mike/Flayed!Will

Carnival Night

Day 6, October 31:

Supernatural Creatures

Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02)

Trick or Treating

Day 7, November 1:

Witches, Wizards & Necromancers

D&D

Renaissance Festival

***

Rules and guidelines for posting can be found in our intro post here.

Extra prompts and ideas for these themes are under the Read More cut! Also, look below to see which themes are Double Date Night themes. For Double Date Nights themes, we encourage other ships to be featured along with Byler (but it's not required)!

amazing art by @light-lanterne!!

Here are some additional ideas that you can use as inspiration for each day's themes! You don't need to follow these prompts at all, but feel free to jump off of these ideas.

Day 1 - Ghosts & Hauntings, Trapped in the UD, Haunted House:

Ghosts & Hauntings - Mike and Will move into their first home together... but it's haunted. Ghost!Will haunts Mike, or Ghost!Mike haunts Will. Ghost movie AU. Young Mike and Will hide from a scary ghost in the closet or under the bed. A midnight stroll through a graveyard goes wrong.

Trapped in the UD - “It’s like home, but it’s so dark. It’s so dark and empty. And it’s cold!” Mike, Will, or both are trapped in the Upside Down this Halloween.

Haunted House - Creaking floors, spiderwebs, skeletons, and spiders! Mike and Will break into the scary, abandoned house down the street, only to run away when there's a creepy noise coming from the attic. Did Mike and Will get part time jobs as monster actors at the Hawkins Haunted House this October, or are they just going to the Haunted House as guests? Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

Day 2 - Slashers, Gore & Body Horror, Demogorgon & the Flesh Monster, Halloween Party

Slashers, Gore & Body Horror - Slasher movie AU’s. Serial killer Byler, cannibalism Byler, or Frankenstein Byler.

Demogorgon & Flesh Monster - Looking back at our S1 and S3 monsters! The demogorgon or flesh monster are on the prowl and looking for victims this Halloween.

Halloween Party - What costumes are Mike and Will wearing to the party? Who has a few drinks, gets a little extra silly, and starts some drama? What feelings bubble up at the party? Loud music and dancing, spilled drinks, drunken confessions, and kissing in the dark corner of the room. Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

Day 3 - Demons, Devils & Exorcisms, Will’s S2 Possession, Pumpkin Patch & Apple Orchard

Demons, Devils & Exorcism - Will and Mike make a deal with the devil. Demon x Exorcist enemies to lovers AU. Exorcism movie AU.

Will’s S2 Possession - Looking back the scenes of Will saying ominous things, not remembering the names of his loved ones, Mike sitting by Will’s bedside in the hospital, and the shed scene. What if Mike had been possessed instead of Will? What if Mike and Will were already dating in S2 when Will was possessed?

Pumpkin Patch & Apple Orchard - Picking out the biggest pumpkin at the pumpkin patch, carving pumpkins, baking pumpkin treats, and wearing ugly pumpkin sweaters. Getting lost in the apple orchard, climbing trees together, picking apples, drinking apple cider. Riding the hay bale and sneaking kisses.

Day 4 - Psychological Horror, Attacked by Vecna, Sweater Weather

Psychological Horror - Ramp up the horror, terror, paranoia, and fear! Psychological horror movie AU.

Attacked by Venca - Looking back at our S4 villain, and the horror filled visions he uses to attack his prey. Vecna returns on Halloween this year.

Sweater Weather - Everyone wants to cuddle up once the weather gets colder! Mike and Will start wearing their cozy sweaters and flannels. Falling leaves, hot cocoa, bonfire nights, smores, and camping.

Day 5 - Came Back Wrong, Flayed!Mike & Flayed!Will, Carnival Night

Came Back Wrong - Resurrecting your beloved childhood friend and sweetheart from death comes with a price... they're not the same now as they were before. A call back to good ol' Phineas Gage.

Flayed!Mike & Flayed!Will - Rethinking S3 if Mike or Will were flayed. Suspicions are raised and fear mounts: Mike or Will aren't quite acting like themselves and it's a fight to rescue them from their gruesome fate!

Carnival Night - Will and Mike play carnival games and go on rides. Bobbing for apples, getting lost in the corn maze, face painting, and feasting on carnival food. Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

Day 6 - Supernatural Creatures, Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02), Trick or Treating

Supernatural Creatures - Vampires, and werewolves, and monsters, oh my! Mike and Will encounter a supernatural creature this Halloween, but is it friend or foe? Will as a werewolf, Mike as a vampire, Will as a goblin, Mike as a centaur? The options are endless! Monster x Monster Hunter AU.

Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02) - A look back on our beloved Halloween episode. Mike is complaining about Max, Will sees the Mind Flayer looming in the sky, and Mike takes Will home. Crazy together, right?

Trick or Treating - Mike and Will take Holly out trick or treating. Adult Mike and Will hand out candy. The early years of Mike and Will trick or treating with the party, TP-ing a bully’s house, and swapping candy afterward at home.

Day 7 - Witches, Wizards & Necromancy, D&D, Renaissance Festival

Witches, Wizards & Necromancy - Witch covens, a trickster wizard, or a necromancer raising zombies from the dead! A witch hunter falls in love with a witch, or Zombie Boy comes back to life.

D&D - Paladin Mike and Will the Wise celebrate the spooky season! Redecorate the Will the Wise costume with some Halloween vibes, or alter Will's S4 painting of the party to give it a spooky twist.

Renaissance Festival - Dressing up as knights, fairies, wizards, and more! The knights are jousting, everyone is eating a turkey leg, and Mike and Will are playing ax throwing games. Entertainers are juggling swords, fire eating, and putting on raunchy comedy skits. Are Mike and Will attending as guests, or working at the Renaissance Festival this fall? Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

#byler #bylerween2023 #themes #mod post #day 1 #day 2 #day 3 #day 4 #day 5 #day 6 #day 7 #d&d

[cozage]

I’m so excited that you’re request are open!! Could you do an Ace x fem!Reader (who has a child from a previous relationship, the kiddo is about 1-2) where they have been dating for a few months but haven’t been intimate aside from kissing/making out. Reader is worried it’s because Ace finds her unattractive because she’s a mom but really it’s because he’s absolutely in love with her and doesn’t want to rush their relationship and ruin anything. Please lots of fluff with the Whitebeard crew! I’ll leave it up to you if this becomes a smut or not!! ❤️❤️❤️

Characters: Ace x fem reader Cw: readers thoughts gets a little spicy but nothing explicit Total word count: 1k

A Night Out

A party just for the commanders and their dates. And Portgas D. Ace had invited you. Of course he had. You all had been dating for months. But you still felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of going to a party with him. Of being his. 

He had even set up the babysitter for your year-old son. For the whole night. You couldn’t help but question the implications of that decision, but you refused to get your hopes up. You had been disappointed too many times. 

Ace never seemed to want to take it further than a heated makeout session. You weren’t sure the reason, but you tried not to let it get to you. Sure, you had a kid. That was a deterrent for a lot of people. But Ace had welcomed you and your son into his life, and he had loved you both endlessly. 

His love should’ve been enough. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he maybe didn’t want you. Because you wanted his fingers to traverse your entire body. You wanted to be one with him. You wanted him to hold you down and-

“Knock knock,” Ace’s cool voice hummed, opening your door and breaking you away from your imagination. 

He had dressed up, in a sense. Though his chest was still exposed, he did wear a black blazer and black trousers. 

“You look lovely,” he said, plopping a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“And you look…divine,” you hummed, your fingers trailing down his chest. 

“You think?” he smirked, and leaned in for another kiss. “Have to show up all the other commanders of course.”

“You’re certainly showing them,” you whispered, diving back in for another kiss. The two of you stayed locked in an embrace for a few moments, until he finally pulled away. 

“Flowers,” he gasped, grabbing a small bouquet that he had set on your dresser when he walked in. You had been so busy watching him, you hadn’t noticed the bouquet behind him. 

“For you,” he smiled, handing them off to you. “Shall we make our way to the party?”

“Sure,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment that the makeout session had been over so soon. You took his hand and started down the hallway.

The party was lively. You knew everyone since you had been running in the commander's social circle for the past five months. You and Ace stayed close to each other, checking in every little while, but you mostly socialized with other people. 

Before you knew it, it was well after midnight. You had found yourself on a quieter side of the ship, Ace and you staring out into the dark sea. 

“We should dance,” he said.

You laughed. “The band packed up two hours ago, Ace.”

“We can dance to the sounds of the ocean.”

You shook your head in disbelief, but you let him lead you in swaying back and forth. “You are very drunk,” you whispered, the two of you stepping on each other’s feet constantly. 

“You are very beautiful,” Ace said back, staring down at you with desire in his eyes. 

You gave a small smile, heat rushing to your cheeks at his compliment. “Prove it.”

He bent down and gently kissed you, but passion quickly took over. Your tongues intertwined with each other, the taste of stale beer still on both of your lips. 

He pulled you close against his body, his warmth wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You gave a soft moan of pleasure and leaned into him, and you could feel him instinctually grind against you. 

Your heart began to beat faster, and your fingers tugged on the locks of his hair, pulling him further into you. You didn't want this moment to end. You couldn't let him get away from you. Electric pulses flooded through your veins. The world was spinning around you, though you weren’t sure if it was from the booze or from his scent. 

And then he was gone, pulling himself away from you, just like he always did once things got too passionate. 

“Ace,” you whined, moving toward him to close the gap between you. “Come back.”

“Let’s just get you back to bed, okay?” he said softly, looping his arm around your waist to help you both support each other. 

“I’m not going,” you pouted, pushing away from him. “You always do this.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “Do what?”

“You stop before it gets good!” You hadn’t meant for your voice to come out as loud or harsh as it did, and you could see Ace’s cheeks blush at your words. 

“That’s not-”

“It’s been six months, Ace!” Your heart was beating fast in your chest. It was now or never. “When are you going to fuck me?”

His eyes widened at your statement. He was unclear how to proceed. It was clear he hadn’t been expecting you to be so…direct. 

“I-uh. Well-”

“Do you even like me?” The hurt was evident in your voice, and you could see the instant remorse all over Ace’s face. 

“I-fuck.” He walked up to you and lowered his voice so it was soft and smokey. “I love you. I just didn’t want to mess this up. I didn’t want to mess anything up. I wanted to go at your pace.”

You ignored the fluttering in your chest at his words. God, he knew how to make you swoon. 

“Well, my pace says tonight,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Tonight? Are you sure?” His fingertips brushed up and down your arms, and you wanted nothing more than his fingers to explore every part of you.

“I won’t go to bed unless we go together,” you whispered. 

He gave a slight smirk, and you could tell he had been waiting for this. 

“Your wish is my command,” he said softly, his lips already trailing down your neck, finally getting to worship you as he had dreamed of for months.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace #ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x you #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

[bloomingdayswithyou]

can i request jiwoong x m reader angst please !!

Shattered Dreams

Pairing: Jiwoong x m!reader (both idols)

Words: 646

Warnings: angst, homophobia

Under the dawning of a pale, overcast sky, Jiwoong's heart throbbed with a mix of trepidation and sorrow. The weight of his secret pressed upon him like a leaden cloak, threatening to suffocate him.

He glanced furtively around the deserted practice room, his anxious eyes searching for any sign of intrusion. His gaze fell upon the crumpled photograph tucked away in the corner of his dance bag. It was a stolen moment captured in time—a tender kiss shared with the one person who made his heart sing. A bittersweet smile crept across Jiwoong's lips as his fingers traced the contours of his lover's face.

"m/n..." he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "Why can't we love each other?" The harsh reality of their situation gnawed at Jiwoong's soul. As a member of the newly debuted boy group, ZEROBASEONE, their every move was scrutinized by the watchful eyes of the public. The revelation of his past involvement in a BL series had ignited a firestorm of controversy among Korean fans.

Prejudice and intolerance suffocated their love like a venomous serpent. Jiwoong's management, fearing a public backlash, had delivered an ultimatum—end the relationship or face the consequences. The pressure mounted with each passing day, threatening to shatter the fragile bond they had forged.

Jiwoong knew he couldn't risk his career, not after all the blood, sweat, and tears he had poured into his dream. But the thought of losing m/n filled him with an unspeakable anguish. He couldn't bear the pain of watching his beloved slip away into the shadows.

As the sun began its descent, casting long, dreary shadows across the city, Jiwoong made his way to their secret meeting spot—the rooftop of his apartment building. A sense of foreboding washed over him as he opened the door to the place where they had shared so many stolen moments.

M/n was already there, his head buried in his hands. Jiwoong's heart sank as he witnessed the silent despair etched upon his lover's face. He sat down beside Reader, taking his cold hands in his own.

"Jiwoong-ah," M/n whispered brokenly, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I knew this day would come." Jiwoong swallowed hard, fighting back his own tears. "I'm so sorry, m/n. I never wanted to hurt you."

"It's not your fault," M/n replied, his voice barely a whisper. "It's the world's fault. They don't understand us. They don't understand our love." Jiwoong leaned forward and pressed his forehead against m/n's. Their tears mingled as they clung to each other, desperate to savor every remaining moment.

The weight of their forbidden love bore down upon them, crushing their spirits beneath its relentless force. As darkness enveloped the park, Jiwoong and m/n knew their time was running out. With heavy hearts, they exchanged a final kiss, a bittersweet farewell filled with unspoken promises and shattered dreams.

"I'll never forget you," m/n murmured against Jiwoong's lips. "No matter what." And with that, they parted ways, disappearing into the shadows like ships passing in the night. Jiwoong watched as m/n left the rooftop closing the door behind him, a profound sense of loss gnawing at his soul.

In the days and nights that followed, Jiwoong struggled to come to terms with the sacrifice he had made. The cheers of the crowd and the adulation of his fans felt hollow, a cruel reminder of the love he had been forced to forsake.

And m/n? He carried the weight of their shattered dreams with stoic resignation. He continued to perform on stage, his heart filled with a bittersweet longing for the one who had stolen his heart. Their story together had come to an end, but the echoes of their forbidden love would linger in their hearts forever—a poignant reminder of the pain and beauty of a love that was never meant to be.

.

.

.

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x male reader #zerobaseone x male reader #jiwoong #jiwoong x male reader #jiwoong x reader #zb1 jiwoong #zerobaseone jiwoong #zb1 angst #zb1 fanfic #jiwoong angst #zerobaseone angst #kpop angst

[firstdivisiongirl]

Day 4: Sanji - Making Christmas Cookies

You were a baker back home, before Luffy and Sanji insisted you join the crew.  And you loved it!  You and Sanji started to date, you gained some recipes for your cookbook of world recipes and you had so much fun!

It was now your first Christmas on the Thousand Sunny!  Usually Sanji made Christmas cookies, but you were the baker now on the crew.  He still enjoyed making the cookies, so he had an idea!

When Sanji asked if you two could have a cookie making date, you freaked out.  It was everything you loved on one date: Sanji and baking!  As everyone left to explore the next island, you and Sanji stayed to watch the ship and bake.

You and Sanji were having the times of your lives.  The two of you laughed, sung and danced your way through the kitchen as you baked both yours and his favorite recipes.  After finishing up the decorating on his famous sugar cookie, you had one last recipe.  That recipe was your favorite basic dough.  It was a basic dough you could add whatever you wanted into.  “What should we add into these,” you asked Sanji intently, looking at your recipe in your hand.

“How about chocolate?  Everyone loves chocolate chip cookies.”

“Zoro doesn’t.”

“Who cares what the mosshead thinks.”  You playfully hit your boyfriend on the arm.

“Well,” you replied, “we could add a really dark chocolate to it and some tangerine zest.”

Sanji smiled, “that would be nice.  If we double the recipe, we could make some sandwich cookies with some tangerine buttercream…no wait…orange soda frosting.  I have a ton left over from our party a few nights ago.”

Your eyes lit up.  This was turning into the best cookie ever.  It had a few elements of each crew member: Nami loved tangerines, Robin loved sandwiches, Chopper loved anything sweet, Franky loved soda, Luffy would eat anything, and the chocolate was bitter like Zoro.

Once the cookies were done and assembled, you and Sanji tried them.  They tasted perfect!  After putting the cookies away, the crew came back.  You went out to greet them as Sanji was cleaning up.  The kitchen was already cleaned, but he decided to make the first recipe for your cookbook.  The recipe was for Strawhat Sandwich Cookies!

Please do not copy, modify, translate, repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #trafalgar d vivi #25 days of a one piece christmas #christmas event #christmas #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #Op fluff #one piece fluff

[azrisweek]

Azris Week 2024 Prompts & Rules

We are delighted to announce the prompts for Azris Week 2024! Each prompt is accompanied by a few suggestions to help spark creativity. Don't feel obligated to follow the suggestions. We intentionally kept the prompts very open to interpretation this year and can't wait to see where the inspiration leads.

Day 1: Contrasts

The chilled darkness of the night, the warming glow of a fire's light. One spends his life pulling strings behind the curtain, and the other is center stage dancing to several tunes beyond his own. Born to privilege, born to poverty. One's family found, the other's fractured. "Contrasts" is a broad theme, how will you explore it?

Day 2: Familiars

Take it to mean the noun—hounds, shadows, horses, other pets, maybe sentient little flames, companions, friends, family, etc—or expand your interpretation to the adjective and see where it takes you.

Day 3: Contact

How do the heir of Autumn and the Shadowsinger communicate? Through letters or texts, maybe, or through heavy gazes and the brush of fingers on exposed skin. Have they always spoken with each other this way?

Day 4: Free Day

This is self-explanatory.

Day 5: Slice of Life

So much of this enemies-to-lovers ship is full of strife, pain, and betrayal. But what about the quiet moments? Whether in the midst of chaos or with lower stakes, how have they learned to love each other?

Day 6: Changes

What changes? What remains the same? Change for the individual, change for the pair. Think of shifting opinions, a changing world, personal growth, and developing relationships. One of the reasons we ship Azris is our love for their dynamic. How dynamic can they be?

Day 7: Solstice & Equinox

Autumn Equinox, the shift in seasons from light to darkness, a time of harvest and plenty. Winter Solstice, the longest night, the turning point. One can predict that the Autumn Equinox in the Autumn Court is as grand of a celebration as the Winter Solstice in Night. We're closing out the week with a hearty dose of holiday spirit.

1) Be respectful. We're here to celebrate Azris and appreciate the creations made in their honor. This is a positive, inclusive space which won't stand for bashing of any kind.

2) Please direct any event-related questions to this account, not to the mods individually.

3) Tag us and use #azrisweek2024 when posting here or on Instagram so that we can reblog/repost. If you are posting a work to AO3 add it to the event collection here.

4) Creations of all kinds are welcome and encouraged! Fics, fanart, mood boards, headcanons, incorrect quotes, edits, playlists, etc. We will not be promoting AI generated/altered images or fanworks.

5) A caveat to the previous rule. This event values maintaining the integrity of characters as they are canonically portrayed and won't tolerate characters being warped to fit heteronormative roles. We reserve the right to use our discretion and not engage with content, regardless of how it is tagged, if said content perpetuates harmful stereotypes.

#azrisweek2024 #azris #azris supremacy #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra #pro azriel #pro eris vanserra #acotar fandom

[conchcronch]

Sword Swallower - Part 1

LA!BuggyxYou

You and Buggy have been close friends for years, never crossing an unspoken boundary, that is, until the alcohol is flowing and Buggy is feeling sorry for himself.

NSFW under cut

The cool sea air guides the Big Top across the waves as the party rages on. A raid as successful as today’s deserves a real celebration. Everyone is clinking steins, merrily singing sea shanties as they drunkenly attempt to dance and not tip over. You carefully let the silver sword slide down your throat, hearing your fellow crew mates rally until the hilt is on either side of your mouth, the cold metal feeling refreshing against your chapped lips. You turn so your back is facing the audience before slowly bending backwards as you had done a thousand times. Expecting a certain Captain to be standing there waiting to pull the sword from your gullet, but to your surprise he isn’t there. Someone quickly takes the opportunity, pulling the sword from your mouth and showing it off drunkenly. You spot him, standing at the back of the ship, staring into the dark water, paying your performance no mind.

“You didn’t even see my performance,” You bound over, hopping off the makeshift stage and through the crowd of your crew mates until he looks up at you for half a second, “I was going to let you pull the sword out, you love that.” He’s very uncharacteristically staring off into the dark waters, away from everyone. He takes a long gulp of his beer, barely acknowledging you.

“Sorry Doll,” He swirls his drink, staring into the dark ale as if it had the answers to every one of his questions.

“You okay, you never miss out on our performances.” You nudge him with your hip before standing next to him, looking out at the water with him. Standing so close your shoulders are touching the brocade fabric of his worn coat.

“Still no map.”

“We’ll find it Bugs, but other than that it was a pretty successful raid.” You spin around to face him, arching your back over the railing of the ship, enjoying the breeze against your alcohol warmed cheeks.

“I don’t care about all this,” he vaguely waves his hand in the direction of the party, “I just want my fuckin’ map.” He angrily tosses his stein into the black waters before crossing his arms and huffing out a sigh.

You lean forward, pressing a hand to his forehead, then bringing your other to his cheek, feigning concern, only muttering a ‘hm’ every so often to upkeep the ruse.

“What are you doing,” he finally asks.

“Checking to see if you have a fever, because the great captain Buggy would never say he didn’t care about treasure unless he was knocking on death’s door.” You smile at him when he rolls his eyes. Your hand slips from his forehead to rest on his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch against your hand. “We’ll find it, I know it.” He can’t take his eyes off you. Enamored by the way your bouncy curls frame your face perfectly. The curls you had worked on for an hour while sitting on the ground in front of the full length mirror in his quarters.

His eyes slip down your form, taking in your black baby doll dress, your black and white striped thigh highs that he had suggested and the clunky boots that had seen better days. “Wanna’ know how I know?” He huffs a laugh before dryly saying,

“Sure.”

“Because you’re the genius jester, Buggy the Clown!” You lean in close, the alcohol causing you to forget where you are as you press a kiss to his nose. Something you had done many times in private when he needed extra reassurance. As you pull back you can see his eyes are hooded, clearly not caring about the crew celebrating behind you.

Before your alcohol fogged brain can process it, he pulls you into a kiss. He balls the back of your dress in his hands as you’re flush against him. Your hands are trapped between your chests, grabbing onto his vest. His mouth tastes like ale and you know your’s probably tastes the same.

As quickly as it started he’s pushing you back, the sound of the crew whistling and yelling at the two of you feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over you. “Just fuck already!” Was the only quip you caught as he wipes his mouth on the arm of his coat and plasters on his practiced grin, makeup smudged.

“Thanks for the practice, Sweets! You’ll get there, keep at it!” He walks backwards towards the door leading to his private quarters. He turns on his heel and you can feel the twisting burn of rejection hot in your gut.

Everyone goes back to their conversations and partying and you feel as though someone flipped the spotlight off at the end of the show and you’re left alone center stage. Heavy footsteps pull you out of your thoughts just long enough to see Cabaji, arm outstretched with a pint. You grab it, knocking it back in one go, sucking air in through your teeth. You never liked beer, but it feels like the searing feel of rejection is temporarily cooled by the amber liquid.

“Another,” You say, following Cabaji through the freaks towards the keg that had been brought aboard.

Part 2

#buggy the clown #buggy one piece #one piece smut #one piece #buggy x you #buggy x reader #captain buggy #buggy pirates #buggy smut #one piece x reader

[deppiet]

About the yassification of GO2.

Warning: the following text is highly critical of the second season of Good Omens. If you enjoyed it, I am happy for you, and a non-negligible amount of jealous as well. Please scroll past before I inevitably rain on your fandom parade.

So, I did the thing. I binged the entire second season of what was, up to now, my favorite show ever, in one sitting. And I have a great deal of things to say, but hardly any of them is positive.

Let me start by saying that I don't mind the cliffhanger or the melancholy ending, like at all. In our era of Marvel apologists and the instant gratification culture, it is necessary for media to persevere and add nuance to romantic relationships. That said, what transpired during the six hours leading up to this sort of unearned climax hardly contains anything remotely close to nuance.

Who are these people? I don't mean the new characters, all of them written as cardboard-cut anthropomorphic personifications of stereotypes, yassified to the point of representation losing its purpose and getting in the way of, you know, actual writing. I mean the protagonists themselves, Aziraphale and Crowley, up to now my favorite characters in the entire world and -up to now- tangled in a love story so beautiful I had, for better or for worse, devoted a large part of my creative output on it, making art, songs, and metas on why what those two entities had was as close to perfect as anyone can hope to find for themselves.

These are not the characters I knew. The characters I knew spent hundreds of human lifetimes revolving around each other in a treacherous yet familiar dance- they both knew the love was there, it was comfortable like an armchair that has taken the shape of the body using it for years. They argued the way old couples do, and of course, like all fictional beings that are counterparts of one another, had differences to settle, but what stood in their way wasn't misunderstanding or miscommunication, in was their fear of Heaven and Hell, and their fundamentally different approaches on how to keep each other safe.

What is all this teen angst? This will-they-won't-they silliness that lacks any nuance, thematic coherence, or literally even trace amounts of understanding of the source material? Where is the dark humor, the quotability, the chaotic overarching plot, the self conscious camp? The season is so cynically written to cater specifically to a certain part of fandom, that I am losing respect for the original work- because if Neil Gaiman doesn't care for these fictional beings, and he evidently doesn't, why should I?

The thematic core of what made Good Omens what it was, had always been the "Love in unexpected places" trope Sir Terry Pratchett knew how to write so well. It had never been about the fantasy, because Sir Terry wrote satire wrapped up in a supernatural package, it had never been about the romance, because when the ship becomes the end instead of the means, the love rings hollow, like artificial light trying to pass as sunshine. The beating heart of GO lies in its philosophy, in the beautiful notion that the agents of two oppressive systems at war have more in common with one another than with their respective oppressors. That being a nobody, a mere cog in a larger machine, says more about said machine than it does about you, and that you can try to break free and build a life for yourself, where a happy ending looks like a dinner at the Ritz with the one you love most.

Shoehorning an underdeveloped "romance" between Beelzebub and Gabriel not only feels like bad fanfic (disclaimer: I like the ship and feel like it could have worked if developed in any capacity, and presented in a more humorous and character-appropriate way. I hate with passion how much they watered down Beelzebub in order to make them stereotypically romanceable, adding the Ineffable Bureaucracy to the ever-expanding list of characters I don't care about anymore.) but also, it muddles and grossly undermines the thematic raison d'être of Ineffable Husbands. If the ramifications for defecting and fucking off with the enemy were a slap on the wrist for the respective leaders of both sides, well surely the system can't be that oppressive after all. And if fear of the oppressive system wasn't, after all, what kept these beings apart, surely these two entities don't like each other as much as we thought. Or rather, one is reduced to a lovesick puppy and the other to a brainless husk of a character, a plot device, a means to go from place A to place B without spending much brainpower on the logistics.

And if these two new people got to kiss I care not, for they are not the same people I rooted for (props, though, to the actors, who gave, somehow, an almost Shakespearean gravitas to their love affair, underwritten and dumbed down as it was. They both love the characters, and it shows in the minuscule yet brilliant ways in which they added nuance where the script had none.)

What was that thing with the lesbians about? Though straight passing, I have always known myself to be attracted to women as well as men, and I am always highly suspicious when an "ally" writer (see: straight, no shade to straight people among which I live because they are, like, the majority) decides to make all characters queer, in the face of real-world statistics and despite NOT being queer themselves. When a person like Nate Stevenson does it they get a pass because writers self-insert and because, when done well, it can carry a message of equality. But when the ally writer does it, unless it is pitch-perfect, I am forced to examine the possibility of them being calculating about it and trying to score representation points, often because they need the rep as a fig leaf to cry homophobia behind when people start complaining about the atrocious plot.

Nina and Maggie were boring. They had no personalities, no cohesive backstories, nothing to make us understand what they are to one another and to the overarching plot ("plot" is used loosely here, for there was no plot: the series ended where it should have started, with six hours of -progressively more offensive to my intelligence- fanfic tropes in a trenchcoat serving as the, well, "plot"). I didn't care whether or not they'd end up together, because I have no idea who they are. The blandness of the dialogue had the actresses, both very talented as evidenced in the first season, grasping at straws with what little characterization they were left to work with, and the "ball" was so unbelievably bad a plot device no amount of suspension of disbelief was ever going to make it right.

The minisodes, though at parts clever and philosophical, felt out of place. This was another narrative choice I had to raise my eyebrows at, because it felt like a bunch of executives sat around a table and watched Neil Gaiman's powerpoint presentation of what made Season 1 financially successful. They were shoehorned in, largely irrelevant to the, eh, "plot", and most of them lasted far more than I personally deemed welcome, or necessary.

What else is there to say? The wink-winks and nudge-nudges to the Tumblr nation? The in-your-face Doctor Who reference? The narratively myopic choice to make Crowley a former archangel? The cheese dialogue, not one bit of which was quotable?

I am distraught. I am grieving an old friend, and a part of my fandom life I cannot, in good faith, return back to after this gross betrayal. I am happy for those who don't see it, because I wish I could love this season past its flaws. However, the writing isn't simply mediocre, it is irrevocably, immeasurably, undescribably bad, so bad I am shocked to my very core, so bad I find it offensive to Sir Terry's memory and everything his own creative output was lovingly filled with.

I am passing all five stages of grief and very much doubt I will return to this fandom. I loved the original story and the characters with all my heart- now the aforementioned heart is broken, not by the breakup or anything as pedestrian as cheap romantic tropes. But because my old friends, my family of fictional beings, are no longer the ones I loved and could relate to.

Deppie out.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #go2 #good omens 2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens s2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens critical #good omens season 2 critical #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #good omens spoilers #michael sheen #david tennant

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

A little thing I put together in honor of our dear Captain's birthday.

Summary: Steve is feeling a little lonely because he hasn't been able to spend as much time with you as he would like. He really, really misses you and takes things into his own hands while waiting for you.

Warnings: 18+ for language and sexual content, oral sex

Word count: 3k

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

It had been a long time. It wasn't that you weren't interested, it was just that you hadn't been around. In fairness, neither had he. 

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing. Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;

Tonight you had been a distant voice in the darkness, a crackly voicemail stating your likely late return home. Probably long into the night after he had fallen asleep. Steve sat down on the edge of the bed wondering how to fill his evening.

So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

It seemed that ever since you had moved in, the stars weren't aligned and work kept you far apart. Steve had invited you into his home in an attempt to keep you close but it seemed lately you may as well have lived on the moon. On this day, hours before the day of his birth, he thought of you, and only you. He ached. From the depth of his soul, he ached to see you, to hear the melody of your voice, to feel the softness of your touch. Your touch. Your caress. Your embrace. The longing was deep, primal, carnal. 

In his mind he painted himself a picture, an image of his love, an outline of you. Longing. It brought you to life. Steve surrounded himself with the things that reminded him of the joy you brought into his life. As he sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, he flipped through pictures of your most recent adventure. They were a little ridiculous, but the memory made him smile. Even wider as he remembered how much you had laughed. He loved that about you, your joy. You brought it to every occasion.

His thumb flicked across the screen until he spotted one particular photograph. You were wearing a pair of shorts that were so short, they may as well have been a pair of underwear. This scanty piece of material was accompanied by a tank top and a bandana to keep your hair out of your eyes. Except that you'd been dancing around while cleaning and there were loose strands all over the place. He had caught the perfect image of you, doing the tango with a mop.

The way your body swayed to the music made him feel alive. He recalled how you had immediately abandoned the mop in favor of dancing with him. The recollection of that moment was vivid. Vivid enough for his senses to recreate your touch, your closeness. It evoked every sensation he had felt that afternoon, including the one deep down in his core.

Oh how he craved your touch, to feel you pressed against him. Steve opened his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror on your dresser. He wanted to catch just a glint of your mischievous grin when you intended to have your way with him. Something he was all too willing to be a part of. If only you could be there now. He coveted your smile, your lips on his, how you felt when he slipped inside you.

There was an old cardigan of yours slung messily over the stool by your dresser. You loved the fit and wore it as often as you could around the apartment. He picked it up and lifted it to his face, inhaling your unique scent, the one that made him feel at home, loved. The same way he did when he buried his nose in the top of your head. The same way he always did before you were intimate.

The aura the cardigan gave off, your aura, it was titillating. He couldn't help but notice the twitch in his boxers. Steve lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, cardigan cradled across his chest. He would have to wait. You wouldn't be home until late. Well past an acceptable hour to be awake. He had no choice but to wait.

Except his body didn't want to wait. It was a learned response. The olfactory center of his brain had been stimulated and the signals it was sending to his cock weren't easy to ignore. Now that it had started its ascent, Steve would have to try and think of anything else but you to head it off. It was as easy as trying to ignore the pink elephant sitting in the corner. You invaded every corner of his mind. He was just as smitten with you now as he was when he first met you, if not more.

One of his hands that had been clutching your cardigan ventured South, if only to assess the situation. People were apt to make mountains out of molehills, but in this case his problem was reaching Everest size proportions. The lightest brush of his fingers sent a throbbing ache up to his belly. It begged. There was no use in denying it.

When Steve put his mind to something it didn't take him long to achieve his goals. There was one guaranteed thing that he knew would satisfy his need. As he lowered his boxers and took his length into his hand, he spoke. 

"It's been so long, doll."

In his mind, the fantasy image of you answered him. "Longer than I'd like."

"I miss you."

"I'm right here," the vision spoke back.

"I want you, I need you. You make me feel so good."

He spoke out loud, into the empty apartment. Except it was no longer empty. In a frantic attempt to leave work, you had dumped an extraordinary number of files on a colleague's lap and run before they'd had the chance to protest. It was meant as a surprise, but it was you who was in for a shock.

Your entrance had been stealthy, the jingle of key in lock would go unnoticed on most days. You suspected that he would be asleep, always worn out after a day in the field, he deserved a night of rest. A frown crossed your brow as you heard his voice. Who would be he conversing with at such an ungodly hour?

A soft patter of feet carried you to the bedroom. You recognized his voice. You recognised his tone. The yearning in his words was evident. The yearning that he saved for you. Only you. But here he was, on the other side of this wall, speaking with the voice that was yours and yours alone.

"Touch me, right there. Only you know how. I want you, doll. I want to feel you."

Your face reddened. He only said those things to you. There was a fleeting thought of infidelity before you heard his next phrase.

"Nobody loves me like you do, doll."

Curiosity overcame consternation. Enough to take a peek. The image of Steve stroking himself was a sight to behold. The realization that he was fantasizing about you as he did it was electrifying. Your arousal was immediate. It was intense. It caught your breath and made your heart race. A flush crept until your cheek and your lips went dry. The scene in front of you was mesmerizing. You stared, hypnotized. His voice was enthralling. 

"I want to cum on your face."

Your face. He had never expressed that desire to you before. And you wanted nothing more than to please.

"Then cum for me, Captain."

Your voice made Steve sit up faster than his erection had come up, eyes wide and his hand still gripping his cock.

"I thought you were going to be late." Steve’s face had turned red, redder than the flush of arousal which he was already sporting. Nervously he brought his free hand down, attempting to cover himself with the cardigan in his hand.

"I didn't mean to startle you," you bit your lip, suddenly aware that you'd interrupted something very personal. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I'll just-" You started backing away.

"Y/N!" Steve called out your name. It was a reflex. He hadn't thought through what would come next.

"May I come in?" you asked shyly, returning to the position of hugging the door frame.

"It's your bedroom too, you don't have to ask permission." Nonchalance. 

"I don't want to intrude, if you'd rather-"

"I wouldn't!"

"You wouldn't want me to intrude?" you asked with uncertainty.

"I wouldn't want you to leave. I mean, isn't it evident that I would much rather have you do this?" There was a self conscious catch in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. 

You crept around the door frame and took a tentative step towards Steve. "I'm glad, because I'm not sure I have the ability to keep my hands off. Especially when for a moment there was concern that someone else's hands were responsible for those moans."

"Only yours, doll." That look. The one he saved for your most intimate moments. His dazzling eyes focused on yours. 

"Right then, Captain." You took another step towards him. "Let's see what you've got for me."

Steve felt a resurgence of blood in his cock. "I'll hand over the reins."

"Maybe you could hand over my cardigan before it gets covered in cum?" You put your hand on the fluffy garment.

"Maybe I would prefer it were covered."

"Marking your territory?" you asked, amusement etched on your face at how much his attitude had changed.

Steve grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. "Doll, I can state that without a shadow of a doubt that there is no part of your body that I haven't already marked." He stroked your hip bone with his thumb in a wildly erotic manner.

"My body, no. But you mentioned my face before." You knelt down on the floor, between his legs and in the most sultry tone you could muster, you said, "Please. Tell me what you want."

"I want you, doll."

"What do you want me to do to you?"

"I want your mouth."

"As you wish, Captain."

You removed his boxers, tracing a trail along his thighs with the tips of your fingers. It made you smile to see the line of goosebumps which erupted on his skin. Gently you wrapped your palms around his shaft.

It started out with a kiss, chaste lips pressed against his tip. You smiled as he suppressed an excited moan. Anticipation. He felt it, so did you. Your lips slipped over him again, taking him a little further into your mouth. This time there was no trace of censorship, the sound that left his lips was extraterrestrial. It resonated through you, right to the throbbing in your ignited core.

"You like that, Captain?" You lifted your head and licked your lips with expectation.

Steve reached down to touch your face, pupils blown with desire. But there was a tenderness in his features which made you feel a new kind of warmth inside you. It made you want to give your boyfriend everything you had to offer. You offered him a coy smile before dropping your head again. Lips enveloped him, engulfing his head with the warmth of your mouth. You did as he had asked. Once, twice. The third time you dragged your now puffed up lips, you supplemented the action with a lap of your tongue against his meatus. He gasped. It was unexpected. Just how you wanted it. 

"Lie back."

"No."

"No?" you scoffed.

"I want to see you."

"I missed you too, Steve," you breathed the words, hot air onto his swollen member.

He reached down, gently capturing your lips with his. It was the first time he had kissed you that day. You'd missed his taste. That special flavor that was unique to him. A dash of coffee, a whiff of pancakes, a dollop of honey topped with a dousing of cheesecake which you'd stashed at the back of the fridge.

"Steve, I thought part of moving in together was for us to do things together?" you chastised.

"We are, look at us." He waved at how close your bodies were.

You gave him your most annoyed school teacher look.

"Tasted the cheesecake, huh?"

"You said you'd wait," you pouted. "I mean you even started this without me.

Just to wind him up further, you stroked the underside of his shaft, just under the head where he was most sensitive. Just to punish him a little more, you ghosted your upper lip over the tip, daintily running your tongue across the bare pink skin.

"Doll!"

"Captain?" you feigned innocence. 

"Please. Don't be like that."

"Like what Captain?" you finger his cock in a teasing manner, making him squirm.

"I know what you like." 

"Pray tell. Enlighten me." Every word was drawn out, accompanied by a swift sweep of your hand over his generous length.

"I know for a fact that you've always been partial to a salty snack," his eyes glinted mischievously.

"Actually, I've always thought you had a bit of a sweet taste. I know you do your best to hide it."

While Steve chuckled, you took the opportunity to take him back into your mouth. Tucking away your teeth, you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked hard, hard enough to turn his laughter into a strangled gasp followed by the most erotic groan you'd heard from him.

"Still think I'm hiding?" you mumbled, mouth still full.

Steve ran his finger through your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp, tugging at the strands lightly to help set your pace. His member throbbed lightly, you could feel it in your mouth. He was rapidly reaching his climax and you wanted to help him along as best you could. You edged one hand down to his balls, taking both into your palm and rolling them between your eager fingers.

Every moan that left Steve’s lips was music to your ears, fanning the flames of your desire. With every fiber of your being you wanted to touch yourself, find your own bliss, but you kept working on your boyfriend. Seeing him climax would be enough.

Instinctively his hips thrust towards you. It was a surprise. His cock slid further down your throat and he groaned, louder than before. His fingers chambered desperately at the duvet cover, trying to find an anchor for the oncoming storm.

You knew what he wanted. What he needed. But it was something you'd never been able to give him. Maybe this time might be different. It was now or never and you were ready to dive in head first. Slowly you bobbed your head. Deeper each time. Inch by inch. His tip grazed the side of your mouth, the inside of your cheek, nearing the back of your throat. Just a little further, that was all you needed. That one last inch. But try as you might, you could never quite get past it. Your eyes watered and you gagged. One more try. But your reflexes were unforgiving. You pulled back abruptly, collapsing onto your heels, coughing and gasping for air.

"You okay?" Steve leant forward immediately, concerned about your reaction.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, disappointed at your body's refusal to do what you wanted. 

Steve cupped your face in his outrageously large hands and gently tilted your face up towards his. His middle fondled the angle of your jaw in a strangely comforting manner.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” you said earnestly, emphasizing the word ‘do’.

“Come here,” he pulled you up and held you close to his chest.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” your lip quivered slightly. You had no idea why you were feeling so emotional.

“Doll, you always make me feel good,” Steve comforted you. He has pulled you into his lap and you were aware that his cock was still pressing up against belly begging for a release.

"Would you let me help you finish?"

Steve couldn't help but smile. "Sure?"

You pressed your forehead against his, your noses brushed against each other in an Eskimo style greeting. It was intimate. Not intimate enough. Pushing your chin forward, you claimed his lips with yours. Gentle at first. But deeper as Steve inhaled your scent. Your tongues meet again with joy. There was nothing you wanted more than to finish what you had started. Well, technically what Steve had started.

It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? You touched your chest now. He took off your dress now. 

Steve sighed as he stared at your cleavage. "This is killing me," he groaned.

"I'm going to make this up to you Steve," you pushed him back onto the bed and snaked your hands up under his t-shirt.

"I'm not sure it's going to go up any further."

You snorted but didn't answer. Instead you straddled his hips, rubbing your lace covered crotch against his leaking erection. The friction was revving up your engine and you were ready to lose yourself in the pleasure. But you were determined to finish what you'd started.

Regretfully, you chambered off your partner's lap and resumed the position you'd had on the floor. 

"What are you doing?" His question was almost a whine, frustrated by the loss of your pressure.

Your answer came in the form of a series of licks. The tortuous vein that ran along one side of his magnificent member received an extraordinary amount of attention as you traced its journey from the base to the tip. The tip which was now flushed, pulsing with excitement, like a volcano ready to erupt. You took his head between your lips, more confident now. Lips sucking, tongue twirling, fist pumping. Over and over. Faster and faster. His breaths came hard and fast. Until that moment arrived. 

"Doll-"

You didn't stop. You didn't slow.

"I'm going to-"

The eloquent captain. Where were his words now?

"I'm-"

His eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensed. He had done his best to control his hips but now they jerked involuntarily. The thrusts were shallow and spontaneous. You tried to match your head movements so you could keep him in your mouth, but his cock slipped from your mouth as hot, white cum exploded across your lips with a strangled cry. Steve's body undulated as you took him back into your mouth, lapping off the sweet elixir you'd milked from him.

Once you'd had your fill, you climbed back up onto the bed to lay at his side. He turned his head to face you and smiled. You couldn't help but lean in to a kiss. Long, deep, savored.

When you'd stopped to take a breath, he said, "you were right."

"About?"

"It is slightly sweet."

You laughed. “Happy Birthday, Steve!”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you

[fieldofdaisiies]

secret santa gift 2 for @moonlightazriel ❤️ @acotargiftexchange ship: Feyre x Rhysand type: nothing but pure fluff word count: 3k words warnings: none summary: We all know SJM is not a fan of writing wedding scenes and since you (my lovely secret santa recipient) indicated that you would love to see their wedding scene, I decided to write it for you. @moonlightazriel I acted as your lifesaver (hope you are not disappointed that it is me haha). I am sorry didn't have that much time hence why the story is a little shorter, but I added a playlist at the end, hoping I included a lot of your favourite songs. Love you so much❤️

read on ao3

Beneath the starlit sky of the Night Court, in the middle of a forest, where trees stand tall, and the moon casts a gentle glow upon the land, is where their union will happen. Twinkling faelights adorn the bushes and the leaves of the large tress, creating a magical atmosphere that makes the forest glow softly and come alive. Further between the towering trees, shadows dance along the soft rustle of leaves that accompanies the silent chatter of the people gathered here on this day. 

"Are you ready, my darling?" The High Lord of the Night Court smiles up at his High Lady, his demeanour showing a male who is fully contented and at ease with his life. A male who finally has everything in his life that he deserves and has longed for for centuries. A male who has suffered the worst possible in life, and has survived this hell. A male who can finally be happy.

His family is finally complete with a mate and a son, who brings joy to him every day — the greatest luck in his life. Nyx's smile alone could light up the darkest night, and more than once a day Rhysand finds himself marvelling at the small wonder. 

The High Lord's eyes lock with Feyre's, violet clashing with blue and something sparks inside his chest. Once again the bond comes alive, glowing vividly, its tendrils stretching out and curling around their souls like a warm embrace. 

Feyre smiles at him, at her mate, her husband, the father of her son, her heart brimming with love and admiration, and she is once again reminded that she is mated to the most beautiful male on this planet, the most amazing one. He is stunning and perfect - absolutely breathtaking, his dark suit perfectly complimenting his whole appearance. His hair, black-blue, is glowing in the faelights, his eyes shimmering with nothing but love and affection.

Feyre's giggles and it reaches Rhysand and reverberates through his entire body, her smile just like Nyx's able to light up even the darkest part of the Court of Nightmares. His mate is stunning and breathtaking, and he fights the urge to punch himself to make sure this is really all real. 

"To marry you again?" Feyre quips, a sheepish grin on her lips.

A proud grin spreads over the High Lord's face. "To marry me again, my High Lady." He exhales deeply. "But now with everyone present. With our whole family and most importantly with our little son joining us." 

Rhysand takes her extended hand, and steps into her, drawing in her scent, drinking her in. For a split second, his gaze moves to Nesta standing behind his mate, standing behind her sister, and he smiles at her. Then he looks to his own brother. The tall Illyrian is wearing the biggest grin possible, eagerly waiting for Rhysand to take his place in front of him. Cassian's hands are folded behind his back, wings tucked in, he is dressed in a fine suit, hair neatly combed back. 

Below the small dais they find themselves standing on, is their whole family. Mor has been the one to lead Feyre down the aisle, holding tightly onto her arm, supporting her when Feyre felt like sobbing out of happiness. Her family cheered for her, their love wrapping around her like a tight embrace. Everyone is here on this special day — all the others as well, Elain, Lucien, Amren, Varian, and of course little Nyx, happily bouncing on his aunt's lap, smiling brightly at his parents, his eyes glowing with joy and love. 

The path leading up to the dais almost seems like a dream, petals scattered like confetti amid the lush green leaves. Strings of fae lights hang above, painting the scene with a soft, twinkling glow. Lanterns flicker, casting gentle shadows across the mossy ground, creating an absolutely enchanting atmosphere. It feels like a dream! It is a dream! But one that came true. Feyre's very own dream - the one the stars have made possible for her. The dream that was answered.

Feyre knows that her older sister Elain, with the help of her mate, Lucien, has truly outdone herself. They did all the decoration as well as the food preparation and Feyre couldn't be more happy and impressed about what they have created. It is truly stunning, so stunning she has to fight the tears now bubbling up in her eyes. This day…it is all she could have ever dreamed of. 

A starlit sky spreads above them, a breathtaking dome of twinkling lights and with a crescent moon in the middle, creating a magical ambience. 

When Rhysand takes both his mate's hands into his, he leans in and kisses Feyre's brow and then takes a moment to look at her, just admiring her - her beauty, her smile, her eyes, his mate. 

His gaze strays again, landing on Gwyn and Azriel, standing next to the altar made of wooden branches with flowers and ribbons adding the finishing touch to it. Candles stand among the flower arrangements, their flames adding warmth and intimacy to the setting. 

The High Lord has to fight the grin from spreading over his face, knowing it would reach from one ear to the other. The priestess truly managed to get Azriel up here to sing with her. She is the only one who he would do it for, Rhysand knows this, and it makes him happy. His brother has also finally found happiness. In his mate. In Gwyn. 

Next to Gwyn and Azriel, Deidre, a priestess and Valkyrie from the Library steps forward, a large and ancient book open in her eyes. She wears a smile on her lips, edging on pride - after all she is allowed to hold the ceremony. 

She looks at Feyre first, then at Rhys and smiles anew. "We are gathered here on this wonderful evening to witness the union of Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court and Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. Although they sealed their bond a long time ago, they decided they wanted a wedding celebration where their family is present." Deidre pauses and smiles. She brushes her finger down the page and moves over to the next one.

Feyre and Rhys can't tear their gaze away from each other though, their love for each other still so strong. Nothing could ever come between them. They are still fully enthralled by each other, hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

Rhysand admires how beautiful she looks in her dress — another one his mother made back then. It is breathtaking, long and light blue, just like her eyes, adorned with small diamonds, lace and sparkling elements. She almost reminds him of one of the travelling spirits in the sky — bright, full of life and joy, stunning.

You look breathtaking my mate. Absolutely beautiful. Feyre feels a warm brush against her mental shields and her smile brightens. 

And I love this dress so very much, but I have a feeling it will also look very good on the floor tonight. 

His eyes sparkle, glowing almost a little mischievously. She can't wait for the moment where he will pull the dress down her body, where his lips and hand will then touch her skin where formerly her dress has been. 

Tugging at her hands, Rhysand brings her a little closer, the warmth of their bodies mingling, as well as their scents, hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

It is then that Deidre continues. "Feyre and Rhysand have met a long time ago, and their start and their journey was definitely not easy - no, not at all. But all throughout they had each other, held each other, supported each other, became each other's anchor. Only together they could get here. Only together they managed everything the way they did. Their relationship is one of power and strength and most importantly love. With every obstacle put into their way, this love got stronger and stronger. They conquered everything, saved the world. Became parents to a wonderful child, the biggest sunshine of the Night Court."

Deidre pauses again when a shuddering sob leaves Feyre. She turns her head, and Elain places Nyx who is almost vibrating with excitement and anticipation on the ground. Elain gives him a little push, signalling him that it is fine to run up to his mother and father. And Nyx does not hesitate.

Carrying the box with the ring made of silver with a small diamond of the deepest blue on top, in his hand, he starts running. His violet eyes sparkle like the brightest stars in the sky when he sets out for his parents, his little feet loudly padding on the in pedals and leaves covered ground.

All formalities are forgotten — why should they even care about them on such a beautiful day only surrounded by their family. Feyre sweeps him up, cradles him in her arms and kisses his cheek. Simultaneously, Rhys presses a kiss to the young boy's forehead, a single tear slipping out of the corner of his eye and landing on Nyx's suit. 

"Oh, daddy," Nyx mumbles and reaches for his father who immediately takes his son into his arms. "Don't cry." But Rhysand can't stop it. But he has to laugh through his tears, a big grin parting his lips and he tips his head back. Nyx is so big already, it is scary - just a short time ago he was nothing more than a tiny bundle in his arms. 

And now…now he is no longer a baby. He is the biggest luck and joy of his life. Rhysand's happiness is right in front of him, right in his arms. He is so proud of him. Nyx is so wonderful and amazing and he couldn't be any prouder to call the little boy his son. 

With Nyx everything became truly perfect. This family is home and happiness and he knows he couldn't be any luckier. Everything has happened for a reason. Everything has happened for them to end up here, for them to get right here, to experience this sort of bliss. This is fate. Meeting his High Lady was fate. Their lives had been planned out long before they were born and everything has happened just for them to end up here, right in this moment. 

On one arm the High Lord of Night holds Nyx, his other hand once again reaches for Feyre's hand, holding it gently, his thumb sweeping over the back of it. Rhysand calms himself a little, meeting Feyre's gaze when Nyx rests his head on his broad shoulder. Then the High Lord dips his chin at Deidre, signalling her that she can continue now. 

She nods at him and inhales a deep breath, then opens her mouth. "The couple has always stayed true to each other, believed in each other, relied on each other and endlessly loved and supported each other. You can't picture one without the other anymore. There is no High Lord of the Night without his High Lady. The two of them share a huge amount of love, but also a bond stronger than anything else. The mating bond, tying their souls and hearts together with invisible strings stronger than any other force."

"I love you," Feyre breathes when Deidre finishes. "So much." She holds Rhysand's gaze but reaches behind her where Nesta unfolds a piece of paper and hands it to her little sister. 

"And I prepared something for you."

With trembling fingers, she holds the piece of parchment in her hands, her heart rapidly beating inside her chest, hammering against her rib cage. She steals a glance at Rhysand's eyes, then looks at her son, cradled against his chest. With a smile, her gaze returns to the paper and drawing in one last deep breath she finally opens her mouth. 

"Rhys, when we first crossed paths, I admit, I didn't quite see us here. It would have been the last thing I could have imagined. Our start was, well, rocky at best. I called you a prick more times than I can count on two hands, and well, the shoe I sent flying at your head…let's not mention that, alright?" She giggles and looks at him again. 

Rhys is close to breaking, chest heaving with deep inhales, his eyes glossy. 

"But through it all, I've learned that love isn't always born from instant harmony. You have to get to know the other, manage to cross obstacles, to fight for love, to accept and respect to live and let live."

A happy smile graces her lips. "We've weathered storms, and I've come to see your true self—the parts you hide from the world and for a long time hid from everyone apart from yourself. I didn't shy away from you. You did not scare me. I love you, I love every part of you - darkness, power and everything. In you, I found a partner, someone who helped me find the person I was meant to be. Someone who taught me how to read and write and how to love and accept myself the way I am."

"You encourage my strength, you make me feel alive, you gave me wings so I could fly and see the world on my own, conquer every part of it and find happiness."

She gazes deeply into his eyes, the love evident in her every word. "And you, you never feared my power. You are unafraid of what I am capable of, of my true self. You respect my choices, value my opinions, and always, always ensure that I have a voice and can speak my mind. You see me, respect me, and have always done so."

The tears run freely and Cassian steps forward, placing a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

"And lastly," Feyre says and stifles a giggle. "Rhysand is the best mate in the whole word. Rhysand is the best husband in the whole word. Rhysand is the most amazing father any child could ever hope for. Rhysand is my mate, my husband, the father of my son, and I couldn't be happier."

As she finishes, a wave of applause, loud sobs and cheers fill the forest.

With Nyx on his arm, he lunges for her, cradling Feyre to his chest as well, showering her face with kisses. 

His vows, he reveals to her mind-to-mind, speaking softly, gentle, reciting everything he has told her so many times in their life together while Gwyn and Azriel start to sing their second song, falling into a perfect harmony, their voices beautifully matching, creating the most beautiful sound the Night Court has ever heard, enchanting everyone. 

Rhysand closes his eyes when he speaks to his mate through their mental bridge. He loves her, endlessly, and will never again leave her side, that is clear. "I love you my mate," he eventually says out loud, still holding her close, face wet with tears, kissing her brow. 

The song finishes, and Gwyn leans against her mate, Azriel folding his own hand over hers, holding her close while the two of them watch the High Lord and Lady. 

"Thank you for the beautiful words, High Lady," Deidre says, "Please, now, repeat after me!”

“I, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court take you Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court to have and to hold”

“...for better or for worse,”

“...for richer or poorer,”

“...in sickness and in health,”

“...to love,”

“...to cherish. … As long as we both shall live!”

“I do!” 

“I do!” Both of them say, tears gently streaming down their cheeks as they exchange smiles, their faces illuminated by sheer joy. Rhysand swiftly brushes his thumb across her cheek, locking eyes with her. Sniffling, she stares back at him, lost in the captivating gaze of those wonderful violet eyes she fell for years ago.

“I shall now pronounce you husband and wife once again,” Deidre announces.“You may kiss the bride now!”

With eager anticipation, Rhysand draws her close. Their hearts beat in unison as his lips meet hers in a tender, passionate kiss. It seals their vows. Cheers echo through the forest, celebrating love and joy. 

With radiant smiles, Feyre and Rhys step forward, hand in hand, their hearts brimming with love. Their family and friends line the path, their cheers and applause echoing through the forest, a symphony of joy and bliss reaching every nook and corner. 

Rhys carries his jubilating son, cradling him in his arms with a tender strength. The boy, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, looks around at the enchanting scene, his small hand grasping onto his father's shoulder. 

Feyre, her eyes sparkling with love and gratitude, walks beside him. Her hand, held by her husband, by her mate, warm against her own.

Petals rain down upon them. They meet everyone's gaze, full of love and joy while they walk over to the place where they will have dinner, the table and buffet once again beautifully decorated by Elain and Lucien - just like all the meals that have been cooked by them. 

Embraced by the warmth of their loved ones and the magic of their union, they celebrate until late into the night, Feyre and Rhysand joined by their whole family, dancing beneath the night sky, the wonderful songs enchanting their feet to keep moving and moving. 

Rhysand lets her twirl, her dress swishing over the ground, the lace and tulle rustling with every spin. When he collects her in his arms again, holding her close he kisses her head and in a low voice says, "To the stars who listen, Feyre darling."

"And the dreams that are answered." She beams and presses her lips against his, her hand placed on his chest, right atop his steadily beating heart. 

They dance and celebrate for long hours, getting lost in the love and joy of this day. And later, when Nyx is already fast asleep at Elain and Lucien's place, Rhysand makes love to his wife, to his mate, beneath a skylit sky, worshipping her and reminding her once again how much he loves her.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar #acosf #acotar gift exchange

[darkdemeter]

— TEASER —

Material is subject to change in post editing.

“SIREN, BE BOUND TO ME”

Read it here!

A/N: Ahhh ha ha... demie did a wee oopie?? WHAT?! I love pirates and the whole golden age of piracy - I'm just a period piece addict - okaaay? So here's a teaser for it because I don't have enough Bucky stuff, he's just got a series happening right now, in which, part 2 is in the works, our beloved mafia Bucket Bucky hasn't been abandoned! P.S: if you recognise that the writing style is a bit different, it's because I have moments where I write like this and then... it switches off. So I'm trying to get into the habit of keeping it consistent.

Semi-dark! Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader

— READER DISCRETION —

Nothing majorly triggering? — Pirate. Bucky. — possessive Bucky elements — light hinting of reader being a sort of fuck toy — pet names! ("little Siren") — Wanda's got magic in this au — FYI, reader is wearing a robe, so she ain't butt naked for the crew — I think that's it?

Enjoy the excerpt!

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

  Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and uniquely - strangely mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep. 

  Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its hook. 

  However, your mesmerised pupils flicker in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance. 

  Your vision focuses behind him, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

  When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own. 

  Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

  He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf. 

  His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea. 

  The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back. 

  “Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion.

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#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #pirate au #pirate bucky #siren reader #teaser #dem's updates #oneshot