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noisilyscreechingsong · 10 months

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Eyes

Dp x Dc Crossover Writing Idea

“Red Robin!”

When he backtracked to find the owner of the voice he was a bit surprised to find a young boy, maybe eight years old if he had to guess, dressed in a red sweatshirt that dwarfed him and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.

Not many Gothamites called out to the vigilantes, a silent agreement to stay out of their way and not to look too closely. This kid however stared up at him with bright blue eyes unafraid of getting the Red Robin’s attention.

A fan?

Before he even opens his mouth, the kid gives him a small, hopeful smile, eyes shining with something that reminds him of himself when he was that age and following Batman and Robin with his camera around his tiny neck.

“I brought you a gift,” the boy say with nervous excitement. He enthusiastically swings off the backpack he had on to dig through the contents, taking his eyes off the vigilante and showing his unwavering trust that nothing bad would happen to him while Red Robin was here.

The boy pulls out what appears to be a jar wrapped in newspaper, the worn page ripping in some spots to show the clear glass underneath. Small hands present it like it’s Red Robin’s birthday (which it wasn’t).

He takes it cautiously, the kid hasn’t been hostile but this was still weird, and pulls it closer with enough space so if it’s a bomb it doesn’t blow up in his face.

It’s got weight to it and the slight sloshing tells him it’s filled with liquid. He carefully unwraps the ‘gift’, keeping his eye on the boy who stands waiting anxiously.

Tim almost drops the jar as soon as he sees what’s inside. Only his reflexes from over the years held on and his expression turned neutral.

A pair of eyes sit at the bottom of the jar. The orbs were crudely extracted, tissue floating around them like a mane of hair around a head.

He turns the jar to see the irises and… he knew these eyes. The slimy green is filmed with death, but he recognized these eyes from the number of times the owner locked them onto him, the cruel possessiveness they possessed when they gazed at him. Never again apparently.

Tim doesn’t speak for a while, not knowing what to say, but also thoughts racing too fast to form any proper sentences.

“Do you like it?” The small, nervous voice interrupts those thoughts.

What an innocent question on an equally innocent looking face.

“How did you get Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes?”

The teasing chatter over the comms immediately hushes into shocked silence.

“I took them from his body, so you knew he was dead. I burned the rest so you don’t have to worry about him coming back again. The Pit there is gone anyway,” the child explains easily, not fazed in the slightest from the words he speaks.

“Grandfather is dead?” He hears Damian whisper over the comm.

So many other questions were flying through Tim’s head. He looks the kid over again.

Black hair and blue eyes. In any other situation the kid might have been a possible Wayne adoptee. He’s not a clone from what he can see though. Despite the coloring he doesn’t really look like any of them. Pale skin like Tim, but has freckles. The same kind of nose as Damian, but wide, round eyes. Jaw kind of like Jason, but his body shape is too narrow. Bright, almost icy blue eyes like Dick, but eyebrow shape is flatter. Lip shape like Bruce, but from the kid’s anxious lip biting he could see the faintest trace of dimples.

“Who are you?” He asks instead of the other million and one questions.

The boy blinks almost like he wasn’t expecting the question. He’s cheeks color pink with blush as he grins widely.

“I’m Danny!” He introduces cheerfully like he didn’t just hand a vigilante a jar of eyes.

“Hi, Danny,” Tim greets almost dumbly. “Want to tell me why you gave me this?”

Danny scoffs his shoe against the pavement in what appears to be embarrassment.

“Well, I know when you ask someone for something, it’s nice to give a gift or something. Like I did something nice for you so maybe you’ll do something nice for me?”

He takes a moment to absorb that child-like reasoning.

“So you want me to do something for you and you thought I would like Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes in exchange?”

Danny studies him and fidgets with the large sweatshirt sleeve.

“I just thought you would like proof. Like the whole ‘bring me the heart of my enemy’ kind of thing. Do you not like it? I couldn’t just take a picture ‘cuz I didn’t have a camera with me, I know you like photography. I can do something else for you if it’s not enough,” he offers worriedly.

Tim freezes.

“How do you know I like photography?” He demands.

Danny tilts his head curiously.

“Because Tim Drake likes photography,” he says like it’s obvious, “and you’re Tim Drake.”

Well. This is less than ideal.

“Red Robin, take him back to the Cave,” Batman instructs over the comms.

Yeah, he was getting there.

“Do you know the other’s’ identities?”

Danny nods and hums affirmatively. Tim waits.

“Oh! Yea. Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne. Red Hood is Jason Todd. Nightwing is Richard Grey-“

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Tim glances around the empty alley they were standing in, checking to make sure no stray people heard. Luckily they were truly alone.

“Danny, do you want to come back with me?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. The kid was coming back regardless, it would just be better if he went willingly.

Unsurprisingly, the kid lights up like a little sun at the offer.

“Really?” He nearly shouts in excitement.

“Yeah, kid. I parked my bike a few blocks from here. You ever rode a motorcycle before?”

Danny shakes his head, nearly bounding on his toes.

“Not in this lifetime.” And wasn’t that odd wording? “Are we gonna grapple there?”

“Think you can hold on?”

“Yeah!”

He kneels down so the boy can climb onto his back and lock his arms around his neck and hook his feet together around his torso. Danny is worryingly light as he stands.

The kid is the picture of an excited and overeager child as they carefully fly over rooftops and then drive back to the Cave. Even when they park inside the safety of the Batcave, Danny’s eyes are filled with child-like awe and wonder, so curious and chattering with questions and wild imagination. It would be cute, endearing even, if the jar of eyes wasn’t sitting heavily in his pocket.

Alfred came down not too long after their arrival with a tray of healthy snacks and some waters. Danny happily munches on the apple slices as he wanders around where Tim can see him.

The rumble of the Batmobile can be heard almost an hour later after Tim has to tell Danny not to touch the weapons for the fourth time. The kid’s attention is drawn to the sleek black vehicle as it parks by Tim’s bike. He trots over with wide eyes as the doors open and Robin exits, then Batman.

Unfortunately, Dick is in Bludhaven and Jason is visiting Roy and Lian this week. Cass and Steph were gone as well and Duke was sleeping. It was just the three of them and this kid with Alfred as the only buffer.

Danny stares openly, curious, as the duo makes their way over to the computer where Tim has claimed his sit.

Tim turns the jar that he set on the table so the eyes are facing them and slowly leans back again, suddenly very tired. Damian flexes his hands into fists tightly while Batman is very still.

“Hi,” Danny chirps like nothing is wrong, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Batman takes a measured breath. Robin glares down at the child, but remains silent for now.

“Who killed Ra’s Al Ghul?”

Danny blinks blankly.

“Nobody.”

“You’re saying he just dropped dead?” Damian sneered in sarcasm.

“Death took him,” the child says simply as if that explained everything.

“How?” The word is demanded and emphasized.

“Like Death takes everyone. His expiration was overdue.”

Bruce frowns and Damian almost snarls.

“I demand you start making sense!”

Danny glares back in offense.

“I’m being very clear! Maybe you should ask better questions!”

The twelve year old growls at the smaller child and Batman has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking.

“Danny?” Batman questions after a tense moment.

The boy’s arms are crossed in irritation, but he blinks out of his glare to stare up at the man.

“Yea?”

“How do you know our identities?”

“Oh, memories.”

Danny looked like everything he said made sense and it was driving Tim up a wall.

“Memories,” Bruce repeats.

“Uh-huh,” Danny nods confidently. “From the Lazarus Pit.”

A jolt goes through Tim as he recalls what the boy said earlier about the Pit.

“Didn’t you say the Pit was gone?” He asks before Bruce could continue his line of questioning.

Danny turns with a bright smile as if he was proud Tim remembered.

“Yea! Well, gone from this world anyway.” Tim was concerned. “I took the memories from it before sending it back where it belongs.”

“Okay. How did you know how to ‘take the memories’ and send it back? Back where?”

“I was born from it. Duh. It went back to the Realms or I guess you’d call it the Afterlife,” Danny actually rolls his eyes as if they should already know this.

“Born from it?” Damian asks with a wavering voice, hidden well from the child but not from them. “Nothing has ever been born from the Pits.”

“That you know of.”

And wasn’t that the kicker.

“So, to clarify, you come from the Pits. You know who we are because you took the memories from said Pits. Death took Ra’s because his time was up. And you took the eyes from his corpse to give to me because you thought I would like it as a gift so I would do something for you.”

Danny positively beams.

“This is why you’re my favorite!”

Damian grinds his teeth harshly.

“What is it you want Red Robin to do for you?” Batman asks in strangled hesitation.

“Oh!” Danny perks up like he remembered and hops over to Tim with pleading hands. “Can you please make me an identity? You’re really good at all that stuff and I was hoping you could find me a family. Someone to adopt me. A nice family, with a bed and family dinners and a dog. I always wanted a dog.”

Tim has the sudden urge to scream.

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talesofesther · 10 months

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the one who stayed

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

A/N: Yes, this is very random. I debated a lot on whether to even post this here or not, but, this Tumblr is, before anything else, a library for me to store my own works. I post everything I write here, so I figured this one shouldn't be the exception because I did like how it turned out.

Masterlist

Cold. That was all your brain could register at the moment; how the ground felt so cold underneath you.

"She's not moving."

You could hear a familiar, urgent voice right beside you. But as the seconds slowly trickled by like blood dripping from an open wound, it became increasingly hard for you to understand what exactly that voice was saying. Yet you could still register the fear laced within the tone, you could feel it in the shakiness of his hold.

Trembling hands held onto your arm, one of them slowly brushing against your skin until it found your hand.

You wished you could see his face right now. Sebastian had always been bold, confident. Though you were almost certain there would be a faint blush hidden under his freckles right now because of the intimate gesture.

But your eyes were heavy. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to blink them open. Come to think of it, your whole body felt heavy, maybe that's why you couldn't move. Even breathing was slowly turning into too much effort.

The hand holding onto your own tightened its grip.

People were talking around you. You couldn't make out any words anymore, they sounded like nothing but faint noise. The tune of his voice still kissed your ears, however; even if you couldn't recognize the words, you knew it was him. And he sounded erratic, scared. There was a tightness to it, syllables getting stuck in his throat; it was all wrong, you didn't like to hear him in this state.

A deeper voice was there too — you instantly recognized the timbre that belonged to the man who was always crushing Sebastian's hopes — and in the back of your mind, it brought anger to your chest. But there was nothing you could do anymore. Wisps of remaining magic tingled on the tip of your fingers and held your heart in a tight, hurtful grip. Maybe you'd gone too far.

A pair of rough hands then picked up your body, taking you away from the cold embrace of the catacomb's floor.

And when the blood dripping from your nose reached your lips, coating your tongue with a metallic taste, you realized that maybe you did go too far after all. Part of you could already hear the keepers berating you for rushing your abilities.

Consciousness slipped from your grasp shortly after that. Your head falling limp against someone's shoulder, and feeling a hand still holding onto yours.

—

Hogwarts' hospital wing was pretty quiet most days, only with the usual first year who scraped their elbow falling from a broom or suffering the effects of a spell gone slightly wrong. They never stayed for long though, nurse Blainey was all too used to these types of encounters.

Yet every now and then, one of the beds stays occupied for a longer period of time.

There were several beds — their metal frame and pale sheets doing little to ease the hospital vibe — one beside the other on each side of the spacious room.

You were glad to be put on one which stayed further away from the main doors; it made for more calmness this way. You had no need to engage with the unfortunate first years and could focus on leaning back and feeling the soft wisps of sunlight kissing your skin from the high window behind you.

It bothers you that you can't exactly remember how you got here. The nurse hadn't filled you with much information either; she told you an older man had brought you in, talking about a casting exercise gone wrong and you overworking yourself; she also said you remained unconscious for about 15 hours before finally waking up — pale, weak, confused.

Most of those feelings still crawled under your skin. Your body is still feeling 10 times heavier than it actually was. You wanted to get up and run off to find Sebastian but you had a nagging sensation that, if you did so now, you'd fall face-first on the floor.

The fabric of the thin blanket draped over you felt soft as you worried it between your fingers, nearly tearing it apart. The last thing you remembered was being in the catacombs, with Sebastian, and wanting to do nothing but protect him — both from himself and his uncle.

His uncle.

Could it be that he was the one who actually brought you back to school?

You doubted Sebastian would have the strength to carry you all the way back here — as much as he might fight you on that argument.

Running a hand through your hair, you pulled at the roots. Your frustration escaped with a long sigh.

The old floorboards creaked under a new weight. At first, you assumed it would be nurse Blainey coming back to check on you. But, from the side of your eye, you caught a glimpse of green, and your heart fought against your ribs, trying to escape your chest.

Sebastian stood a few feet away from your bed, though you could hardly recognize him. The brown locks of his hair were all over the place, way messier than usual; his eyes had a red tint to them, mixed with dark circles of someone who hasn't slept in a while; his usual grin was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with a pained frown; his hands held onto his robes with a death grip.

"I heard you were awake."

His voice didn't sound like the one you had grown to love.

"How are you feeling?" The question stumbled past his lips and he avoided your eyes shortly after. He sounded as if you would yell at him to leave at any moment. It only got you more confused.

"Better, a little weak still," you bit at the inside of your cheek. This moment shouldn't feel as fragile as it does. "Care to tell me what happened?"

You didn't think your tone was harsh, but Sebastian flinched at your voice anyway. Bad memories washed over him like a bucket of icy water.

He met your gaze before hesitantly closing the distance between you, choosing to sit at the edge of your bed.

He looked worse up close. Eyes distant, trapped elsewhere.

"We were fighting against my uncle and the-" Sebastian gulped, guilt squeezing at his throat like barbed wire, "the inferi."

You acknowledged his words with a soft nod, slowly remembering things as he spoke. You pushed yourself up to sit straighter, just a couple of inches closer to Sebastian. He looked like he needed it.

The words lingered on his tongue. You never thought you'd see him this way; hesitant, lost, regretful. With tears on the verge of spilling over his freckled cheeks.

"You were trying to reason with my uncle; and me, for that matter," Sebastian chuckled halfheartedly, "trying to stop us from killing each other, when the inferi started to close on us. You didn't think twice, and all I saw were lighting strikes coming through the ceiling of the catacomb, destroying everything but us, and… you laying on the floor afterwards."

Memories were clearer now. Sebastian had attacked his uncle after he destroyed the relic and they started exchanging spells at each other while the inferi slipped from Sebastian's control. Everything could go very bad, very quickly. You remembered trying to speak with them, make them see past the anger clouding their judgment. But it was to no avail. What you remember the most, however, was seeing Sebastian so focused on his uncle, and unaware of the mass of inferi coming towards him.

You really hadn't thought twice at all. Ancient magic flowed through your veins like wildfire; it was all you could feel. The rumbling of thunder became your heartbeat. You killed each and every one of the creatures, burning out all of your energy in the process.

"And what of Solomon?" You found yourself wondering.

Sebastian pursed his lips. His eyebrows scrunched slightly as his body tensed for a moment and then relaxed again. "We stopped fighting as soon as I ran up to you. I- I begged that he'd help me bring you back to school. I'm not sure where he is now." His body shook with each intake of air. "Or Anne."

"Well, guess my plan worked after all. At least I got you to stop fighting," you tried to lighten the heavy air around you and Sebastian, mustering a teasing grin as you tilted your head to try and catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Sebastian worried his lower lip between his teeth to keep it from quivering. There was no witty remark, no ironic comment. Nothing. His tears were one blink away from spilling over.

Maybe if you listened closely, you'd be able to hear your heart shattering. For him. For this broken boy barely holding the last pieces of himself together in front of you, for this boy who stood so desperately alone in the world.

You reached out, your hand closing tightly around Sebastian's — because you couldn't bare seeing him alone one second more. Your thumb brushed against his skin. You could feel his trembling. "We'll find him, and Anne. I promise we'll figure things out, Sebastian."

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking, squeezing his eyes shut and causing a single tear to roll down his cheek. "No, you don't understand," his broken words fell from his lips at the same time he pulled away from your touch.

"I never-" Sebastian stood up then, choking on his own breathing as he looked at you with a mix of longing and anguish. "It was never my intention to hurt you… I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly that if the hospital wing wasn't as empty as it is, you would've missed it.

"Sebastian, you didn't-" you cut yourself off when he abruptly turned away from you and started marching towards the main doors of the spacious room, putting as much distance between you and him as he could.

The fatigue still gripping at your muscles was the last thing on your mind when you threw away the covers and stood — albeit on shaky legs — to go after him. "Sebastian, please wait," you called, grimacing as he took your heart with him.

Ultimately, you didn't go very far. Nurse Blainey stopped you in your tracks before you could even reach the middle of the room.

—

The sun rays shining through the tall stained glass windows were warm against your skin, doing little to help with your current sleepy state as you tried to at least pretend to be paying attention to class.

"It's been nearly a week, Ominis." You groaned, folding your arms on top of the table so you could lay your head down, "do you think he's mad at me for trying to stop him?"

The boy sitting beside you chuckled quietly, twirling his wand in his hands. "Darling, I don't think Sebastian could be mad at you even if he wanted to."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Professor Binns walked by a little too close for comfort; his ghostly form sending a shiver down your body.

"He's been spending most of his evenings hiding away in the Undercroft," Ominis felt around on the table until his fingers brushed the fabric of your robes, he gently closed his hand around your wrist and squeezed comfortingly. "I believe it would do both of you some good if you went to see him."

—

It was mostly dark out already. The sky slowly filled with stars as night settled in and a soft cold breeze hung around the DADA hallways. The pristine floors reflected the image of your shoes, pacing back and forth restlessly.

You were having second thoughts. Apprehension tugged at your heartstrings because as much as you didn't want to admit it, the sight of Sebastian walking away from you so desperately that day had stung.

Though no matter how much you stalled, you knew you'd relent. The sleepless nights you've been going through lately are enough of a telltale of the effect Sebastian has on you.

A deep breath filled your lungs and you closed your eyes, pleading for your heartbeat to settle as you pushed open the door to the Undercroft.

The familiar warmth hugged you instantly. All of the candlelights dimly shining against the stone walls forced away the frown that clung to your brows. You'd never blamed Ominis for being so protective of this place, it really was the perfect hideaway.

You found Sebastian pretty quickly. He sat on the floor against the far wall to your right, knees tucked close to his chest as his wand moved delicately, making a paper bird flap its wings and fly around in front of him. The bird fell limply to the floor when Sebastian's eyes landed on you, however. You thought you saw him gulp and straighten his back too, but other than that, the Slytherin boy expressed no other reaction upon seeing you. It felt almost as if he was expecting your arrival.

Your feet were momentarily frozen to the stone floor, Sebastian's gaze burning through your soul. You also couldn't help but notice how lonely he looked, just sitting there by himself; it made your stomach turn unpleasantly. You wondered if he considered himself deserving of it.

It was as if you spoke with your eyes for a beat. You saying that if he wanted you to leave, you would. And Sebastian pleading for you to stay.

All that could be heard were your steps echoing through the Undercroft as you carefully came to sit beside him. Your shoulder just shy of touching his.

The silence wasn't a comfortable one, but it also wasn't awkward. It was just heavy. There was a tension in the air that none of you knew how to address.

Sebastian's knuckles were white around his wand, he sat stiff beside you, not once glancing your way.

You figured that if you didn't speak, you'd be sitting in silence for hours. You glanced down at the paper bird that lay discarded on the floor, your lips quirking up just slightly as you picked it up; "you know, my mother taught me how to make these when I was younger. Without magic, that is." You chuckled. You rarely spoke about your parents, it was a sensitive topic. But it was your way of trying to make Sebastian feel more comfortable to share what he was feeling with you; what was bothering him.

"I used to get rather frustrated when I couldn't get it right the first times," you gently inspected the small bird with your fingers, thumbs running along the smooth white paper, "but she'd always tell me to take a breath, count to five, and start again."

With your eyes fixed on the paper bird in your hands, you didn't notice Sebastian's eyes fixed on your profile. The grip on his wand loosened slightly as he committed every detail of you to memory.

A shiver ran down your back when you finally turned your head to face him again. He was close, your breaths mingling as the lines of your relationship blurred and burned with the candles.

"Sebastian…" You breathed, watching the way his eyes darted to your lips and back to your eyes, "about what happened at the catacombs, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." He cut you off suddenly, voice quiet and a little choked, but firm.

"I am, though," you leaned your head back against the stone wall, involuntarily leaning closer to him as your body gravitated to his warmth. "I'm sorry things didn't go as planned, but I promise we're not gonna stop looking for anything else that might help Anne."

Sebastian averted his gaze from you, furrowing his brows. You saw tears steadily collecting on the bottom lid of his eyes, despite his efforts to hide them. "Stop it," he mumbled.

You shifted in your seat, your jaw set tightly in place. The beats of your heart against your chest were painful. The thought of Sebastian distancing himself from you was painful. So much so that you fear you'd be willing to do anything to fix it, within reason or not.

"I mean it, Sebastian, I will do anything-"

"Stop it! You don't get it, do you?" He snapped, his eyes burning into yours again and shining under the candlelights. "I saw you laying on the floor of that damned catacomb and I thought you were dead!" The syllables broke and stuttered past his lips, the pain and fear he felt that day came back in waves and twisted his expression.

You were stunned to silence, watching as Sebastian opened his mouth, lower lip trembling as he searched for his voice again.

"Do you have any idea of what that felt like?" He whispered, words strangled and squeezing his chest until he had trouble breathing. You were nothing but a blur in front of him. Sebastian pursed his lips to try and keep himself from breaking. Speaking it out loud somehow felt like making it real. "I thought I'd just lost you, and… and it would be my fault."

The feeling of your gentle thumb carefully brushing against his cheek brought Sebastian back to reality, and he realized his tears were already dripping down his chin.

"I would never blame you for what happened," you shook your head, smiling sadly as you felt your own eyes sting, "you were just trying to help your sister, when everyone else had given up."

"I will cure Anne… but not at the expense of you," in some ways, he looked surprised at his own words; at the truthfulness of them. He gulped back a sob, "I thought I could control it," Sebastian breathed in sharply, avoiding your gaze but leaning into your touch, "I went too far, as Ominis has probably told you a thousand times already."

You chuckled softly, sneaking your fingers over his jaw and until they disappeared between the brown locks of his hair. Sebastian closed his eyes briefly at your comforting touch, allowing himself to melt against you. "He's more understanding than you give him credit for," you smiled.

That got half a smile out of Sebastian, his freckles highlighted by the candles around you. His hand inched closer to your free one resting on your lap, the tip of his fingers timidly closing around yours, craving more of you. His pupils were blown wide when he finally looked up at you again.

"I promise to never do anything this reckless again." His low tone left no room for doubt.

You leaned in slightly, feeling his fringe tickle your forehead. You thought you heard him trying to suppress a gasp, but maybe it was your foggy mind playing tricks on you.

There was a glint in his eyes you'd never seen before, still shining with remains of his emotions; but vulnerable, calm, loving.

"I am quite fond of your reckless side, though."

Your unexpected words brought an endearing blush across Sebastian's freckles. You felt the shape of his teasing grin when his lips touched yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x f!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #sebastian sallow fanfiction #my story

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ilycosy · 2 months

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❝ HE LOVES ME , HE LOVES ME NOT ! ❞ | MATTHEO RIDDLE

pairing : mattheo riddle x slytherin!reader , ron weasley x reader (platonicish)

summary — having mattheo riddle as your best friend was difficult, especially when you've been in love with him since the first year. not to mention all the people he's constantly with, you're planning on moving on when you catch wind of a gryffindor party: perfect for a last ditch effort.

warnings : fake dating (not w mattheo) , messy teen relationships , jealousy , ron appreciation <3 , theo n enzo r a little sick of mattheo , pansy n reader r the besties ever

aﾉn — how do u guys feel abt a part 2 of this ?? i feel like it's a little incompleted but im not entirely sure ... also ron haters dni bc this fic isn't for u <//3

you couldn't remember the last time you had actually talked to mattheo. every time he had started up a conversation with you recently, it ended with him telling you about his (quite boring) sex life. and you were rather sick of it, you were supposed to be his best friend.

pansy had told you that he was too stupid to realize he liked you, and maybe you should just ask him out, but every single time you gain that courage— he's got another girl hanging off his arm. each girl lasts a week, maybe two at most but it still stings.

this week, mattheo had a girl. she was beautiful, really, seemingly sweet too. she would constantly wave at you and smile like she wasn't jealous at all, which you assumed she was right. if mattheo really didn't want to be with you, you'd just have to move on.

now, because you hadn't been talking to him recently, your party invites also dried up. you were hot, everyone knew that, but you were awkward and flighty with people. which is exactly why you latched onto mattheo.

many of his exes had called you clingy, so you eventually just gave up engaging with him first— officially starting your 'situationship detox' is what pansy called it.

you barely attempted moving on before you got a small piece of paper slipped over to you to pass to a hufflepuff girl, a gryffindor party invite. the gryffindor boy just awkward gestured to her, but you glanced at another boy.

bright red hair, freckles, and a little bit of quidditch dirt still smudged on his face. ron weasley, he wasn't exactly the most academically gifted, but he was sweet and funny (much to your friends dismay).

ron looked at you with a confused look when you didn't pass the note, but you had other plans. "can i come?" you asked, trying to sound confident and chill while your stomach churned at the idea of being rejected by the gryffindors, that'd be humiliating.

"uh," he said, clearing his throat before nodding. "yeah, the password is tapeworm?"

for some reason, you felt rather excited when you told pansy that you'd be going to the gryffindor party— you had never gone to a party without being invited by your friends first!

"babe," she cut your excited rambling off, looking at you with a concerned look. "you asked weasley. weasley if you could go to a fucking party?" she double checked like it was shocking, but you felt a spark of offense.

you furrowed your eyebrows, "he's sweet," you say, rummaging through your shared closet for an outfit. "you just don't understand because everyone's so obsessed with blood status, he's always been true to himself." you defended.

she went quiet for a couple minutes, watching you spread out dresses that are a little too modest for her liking. "well, if you're going to be going with weasley, then you need to show him how slytherins are better than gryffindor girls." she said with a smirk, patting your back as she pulled out different dresses.

"you gonna slut it up with me?" she asks, showing off a small red dress.

you scoff but take the dress, holding it in your hands as you admire the sheer black lace covering the deep red. "slut it up," you say with an eyeroll, looking back at her with a small smile. "you're going to be all over blaise, be honest."

you didn't bother telling mattheo about the party, assuming that he'd either be single again and looking for another one there or be arguing with his current girlfriend in the common room.

you didn't even know that he was constantly telling theo about how you barely spoke to him anymore, "she won't even fucking look at me theodore! i don't know what i did wrong, she's fucking insane or something!" he would say, dramatically flailing his hands while speaking.

only for theo to look at enzo with an annoyed look, enzo returning it with a brief head shake and ignoring the temper tantrum by reading. mattheo would eventually calm down and say that he just doesn't get why you're like this, then he'd repeat his idiotic cycle.

he really was blindsighted when he saw you at the party, he had just broken up with his girlfriend— apparently she wasn't all the nice after all, hooking up with another ravenclaw while being with him. he was already annoyed with that whole fiasco, so seeing you with weasley?

he saw red. he barely remembers turning to enzo before trying to approach you, only to be stopped by theo grabbing him and telling him to walk it off.

you, on the other hand, were having the time of your life. sure, harry and hermione took a little bit to warm up to you even being around them, but it seems like they're accepting the casual conversation that you're providing, which is a win for you.

ron has a hesitant arm around your shoulders, keeping a respectful distance while still being touchy. everyone saw it as amazing flirting, both of you guys seemed to be hitting it off greatly.

but you just felt awkward. he was lovely and amazing company, but the lack of chemistry was suffocating you. and he felt it too, his eyes drifting to another person every once in a while, wishing it was different.

maybe that's why you proposed something while tipsy, giggling into ron's ear as you talked about fake dating. whispering the silly joke like it was intimate, and maybe if he wasn't also tipsy he would've told you it was a bad idea.

but he didn't, and now you're bundled up in a sweater with a big r on it.

it could be worse, and you aren't complaining. even though it's fake, it was easy to be around him. he was thoughtful and constantly looking for that reassurance that everything was fine with you, it felt refreshing.

you missed mattheo though, and you confinded in him about it. before others arrived at the designated tree, you whispered into his shoulder about how it hurt that you never seemed good enough for him. ron listened, and he cared.

his freckled hands rubbed your side as you vented, comforting you while he whispered back about how he was so insecure about where he stood within his friends and family. you related to each other, and it was a bond you didn't think you could have.

he pretended to never notice how mattheo clenched his jaw and fists whenever the two of you passed by. while he knew that this was to make him jealous, he felt a little vindictive. how could someone like mattheo riddle hurt such a sweet person like you?

mattheo was spiraling, constantly watching from the sidelines as you and ron 'seemingly fell in love out of fucking nowhere' as he said to theo. he constantly ranted about how you'd never stoop that low, dating a blood traitor.

until enzo spoke for once, lifting his head from his book at the library during a study session. "maybe you didn't know her as well as you thought." he said offhandedly, ignoring the way the whole group fell into silence after.

mattheo didn't speak, just slowly sitting down in a seat next to draco. his cousin looks at him with a sympathetic smile before kind of shrugging, basically saying enzo wasn't wrong.

he didn't know you? that was impossible, you guys were best friends. he barely ate at dinner that night, just watching you laugh and eat with pansy while she gossiped about her and blaise. you were with ron weasley, and he was mad, he didn't know you, but why was he mad?

the next day, he couldn't stop himself from pairing up with you in potions. feeling himself get almost embarrassed and shy when he asked you to partner up with him before ron could, he felt a small victory when you chose him before telling the red head next time with a cheery tone.

the entire potions class was spent with you walking on eggshells with him while he desperately tried to get to reknow you, he felt ashamed when he asked about the latest album of your old favorite band only for you to respond that you don't really listen to them anymore.

he sulked the next class, but mattheo wasn't exactly one to back down— he was going to get you back, in more ways than one.

the following week was used as a way for him to worm himself back into your life like an 'annoying zit' as pansy called him, she did love mattheo but she loved you more and that's all that mattered to her.

ron even asked you about it, "say," he mutters as he leans over your shoulder while you're studying, "why's riddle suddenly all over you?" he asks, genuinely curious though his wording was harsh.

you took a moment to recollect yourself, knowing that he didn't mean it that way. "i don't know," you say softly, taking notes about a plant you could care less about. "he's a little odd sometimes, im sure he'll get bored."

but he didn't get bored, in fact it seemed that mattheo only seemed to go harder. constantly taking any moment to steal you away from not only ron, but other people now (not pansy of course, she'd kill him).

draco trying to talk to you about astronomy? mattheo suddenly needed help with defense. blaise needed to borrow something of yours? mattheo needs you to listen to him rant. slughorn even needed you after class, and mattheo was there mean mugging him while waiting for you.

ron talked about it to harry, laying in his friends bed while he read. "he's bloody obsessed with her!" he says a little loudly, almost waking neville.

"i know ron i know, your girlfriend is being hit on by riddle. im sure it'll be fine," he says, stroking his red locks and twirling it. "you guys are basically married with how you act, nothings going to take her away." he reassures ron.

he just rolls his eyes, pausing harry"s hand to look at him. "that's the thing," he says frustratedly, chewing his bottom lip. "we aren't dating, and im just nervous that she'll get hurt again by him."

seamus listened with wide eyes as harry questioned ron, whisper yelling is still yelling to a light sleeper. and seamus finnigan wasn't the best secret keeper.

it only took a couple days for the whole school to know, constant berating from the gryffindors because they thought it was your fault and then the slytherins cheering you on for allegedly breaking ron's heart.

you didn't even have time to talk to ron about what happened since none of the other gryffindors would let you around him, so you were officially and totally alone.

you sat curled up in the abandoned girls bathroom, crying as moaning myrtle cried with you. you almost started venting to her before the door was pushed open, your old best friend staring at you with wide eyes.

"mattheo?" you question, hurrying to wipe your wet eyes as he approached you. "what're you doing here?" you tried to ask, hiccuping slightly.

he just shrugged, sitting down next to you as he wrapped an arm around your waist. "i know you didn't hurt weasley," he says quietly, pulling you close. "you wouldn't do that to somebody."

you could almost cry with happiness, hiccuping again as you smiled and laughed humorlessly. "it was all fake," you confessed, feeling embarrassed but like you just needed to admit it to somebody. "me and ron did it to make people jealous, and i don't know if it even worked so it was useless and im just so tired of people being so, fucking, mean to me about this i–"

he gently shushed you, rocking you back and forth while whispering that you didn't need to explain yourself to anybody. he pressed a soft kiss onto the crown of your head without realizing it, stroking your back.

when you had began to calm down, he awkwardly cleared his throat to ask an even more awkward question. "so uh, who were you even trying to make jealous?" he asked, glancing down at you.

you just rolled your eyes and shook your head with shame, before just whispering in a defeated tone that it was him. you felt the shame rise but you couldn't let it out, it was just too much.

"are you serious?" he asked, feeling relief and surprise rush through his entire body.

"yeah," you say, not looking at him as you shake your head and scoff. "i know it's pathetic but you don't understand i just felt–" the only thing you actually felt was chapped lips against yours.

mattheo fucking riddle was kissing you, his hands delicately holding your face like you were going to slip away from him again.

"don't worry about it, princess," he whispered, pushing his hair out of his eyes so he could look at you fully while calling you a name you havent heard since the third year. "it's not pathetic."

you stare at him in shock, glancing at the lip gloss smeared on his lips— this time from you, and not from other girls.

"are you sure?" you ask with an awkward laugh, feeling a nervous giddiness rise in you. "because i played that one stupid flower game with ron about you." you confess before you realize, accidently oversharing like always.

but mattheo just laughed, kissing from your forehead down to your chin and slowly across your jaw. "he likes me, he likes me not?" he asked, and you could feel the smile against your skin.

"i played it a couple times," he mumbled, pressing his lips against yours again. not wanting to hear the teasing you were about to do.

#cosywriting #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle oneshot #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle prompt #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #mattheo smut

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loaksbitch · 1 year

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alright but imagine that you’re drunk as fuck and sat on lo’ak’s lap, asking him to teach you how to kiss which only leads way more than a kiss yes? eywa, yes. — i missed writing things like this 🧎🏽‍♀️

warnings – agedup!lo’ak, teasing, lots of teasing omg, you asking for lo’ak to kiss you, slight mention of groping, grinding, drunk kissing, hint of commitment issues, lo’ak discovers he has a voice kink thanks to you, hint of lo’ak’s whimpering, bold confession & fluff.

“don’t break my heart, please” — lo’ak sully (⨳, ✿)

you and your best friend, lo’ak, are alone, your freinds already long gone and leaving you two alone inside the hut many na’vi’s came to drink.

“that’s enough.” you’d hear lo’ak say before pulling the drink out of your hand, this man was so annoying right now.

“no, give me that!” you whine, trying to grab onto the cup but your best friend pulls you back by your waist, pinning you down to his lap. you squirm and groan when he tightens his hold, “lo’ak.” you spit threateningly.

you’re here to enjoy your day out with him and he’s stopping you from doing so. “you’re drunk, let’s just get back to the hut.” lo’ak says, trying to get you on your feet but you breath out a frustrated sigh. “i’m not going anywhere.” you say, sitting back on his lap.

“but all our friends are already gone, sweetheart.” the man holds on your waist, chuckling when you hum with frustration. “i don’t care, i just want to have fun.”

“you know we can have fun back there.” your ears twitch at the sudden dirty thought flooding your tipsy brain. lo’ak was confused as to why you’re silent before what he said hits him back. “i didn’t… i didn’t mean it that way, you know what i mean.” he starts to explain but you giggle.

lo’ak’s lips curve to a smile when he hears your loud laugh boom around. “you’re cute when you’re startled.” you say to him, suddenly getting on your feet before facing him and straddling him. the man in front of you hums, trying to ignore the effect you had on him.

he always liked the little things you both did, just like how you’re straddling him and placing your hands on his shoulder right now.

lo’ak securely holds onto your hips, his eyes scanning your face. lo’ak loves how your white freckles painted your flawless skin, how your cheeks are flushed with the alcohol you just had in your system.

his eyes were trained when he look your pretty face and in graves it in his mind. lo’ak was so in love with you, just a simple thought of you makes his heart desire for more. “let me just have one cup, hm?” your lashes flutter when you lazily stare at him.

lo’ak was too focused on your plump lips, his eyes heavy when your mouth curved to talked.

you roll your eyes when you’re ignored, he was just staring at you and not answering. “okay lo’ak, you’re being so boring right no—” you gasp when you feel him lean forward and peck your lips before leaning back. it was as if he was lost in thoughts until his eyes slightly widened, realizing what he just did.

you drunkenly watch lo’ak’s brows pinch together before he’s clearing his throat and his grip on your hips tighten. “shit, sorry..” he is quick to bring his thump up to your lips and brush the kiss he just gave you.

“i didn’t mean to do that,” he was kinda annoyed you’re not saying anything but again the inner panic is eating him up alive. you on other hand were thinking of what just happened.

your best friend since birth just kissed you, the man you liked since forever just gave you a kiss.

“do it again.” your voice catches him off guard. “what?” lo’ak asks, maybe if he was also drunk and his ears were doubling words he wants to hear it again from you. “do it again, lo’ak. i want you to kiss me, teach me.”

you knew whatsoever is about to happen will have an effect in your friendship with him. you knew something will change if lo’ak kissed you again but your dizzy mind doesn’t care at all, you just want his lips on yours.

lo’ak brings his one hand to your face, cupping your cheek and feeling his heart stir when you lean for his touch. your skin is so warm it’s driving him insane.

he then takes your lips in his and lo’ak almost swears he moaned loud. you tasted so sweet on his tongue, as if you were the sweetest honey ever created. his large palms sought to your waist, rubbing the soft skin ever so gently.

he doesn’t fail to catch the way your breath hitches, hips tempted to grind against his soft bulge. your freckles match with his, as if you were both made for each other. lo’ak breaks the kiss only to give you a quick glance if what he was doing was ok.

your eyes wander on his lips and he takes it as a sign for him to cue his actions.

what you two are doing right now will of course have a major impact in your friendship but lo’ak can’t continue suffering, not like this, not even a slightest bit.

and this time lo’ak decides to test your limits far enough. he bites on your bottom lip, tugging on it gently before he lets you go and watch your flesh snap. fuck. fuck. fuck.

you on other hand feel your heart race in your chest as you felt him put his hand on the rope of your loincloth. something in the back of your hooded brain screams at you to stop whatever fuck you’re doing but this felt so good.

having lo’ak all over you felt so good.

are you both wanting this? do you really think lo’ak, your best friend will actually see you more than that? it's ironically funny because lo’ak was pooled with the same thought, too scared to be friend zoned.

your desires are uncontrollable, lo’ak knew how much it’s dangerous it is when playing with a fire. especially when the fire — you — have a serious commitment issues.

a sudden moment from your abdomen almost fucking ended him right at his spot. lo’ak swallowed hard when he felt you grind your hips on him, your core rubbing over his clothed one.

he doesn’t say anything at first, thinking it was just a way of you trying to get comfortable. but no, not really, his denying self was slapped on the face when you rocked your hips again. lo’ak can feel his inside twist with panic.

this needs to stop, at least until it’s too late.

“princess.” you hear lo’ak hiss, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against yours. behind your eyelids, you could see him fighting not to push you to the wooden table and fuck the soul out of you.

you ignore his first call, leaning and rocking your his again, lo’ak suddenly, painfully, grabbed onto your hips, stopping you right where you are and shaking his head. “no, this can’t happen, no.” he was telling you.

well, telling himself actually.

he blinks, opeing his eyes and adjusting the surroundings against him. you breath fast, chest rising and falling, pretty much annoyed with his words. lo’ak’s eyes drop to your scarlet lips, tempted to kiss you again.

he wants to feel you so bad.

“lo’ak…” you start but stop when he shook his head. “i can’t do this to us, i can’t do this to you.” why was he saying that? you’re the one with love problems but why was he saying he can’t do anything to you.

lo’ak must have felt your confusion because he was now trying to ease the atmosphere and tucking your hair behind your ear. “i can’t do this to you when you’re not ready.” when you’re not ready. right. you mentally scoff.

you sense his strong thighs tensing, arms around your waist before securely trying to get you up until your next word froze him from doing so.

“what if i am ready?” you say and watch lo’ak’s brows knit together. he was solely trying to protect himself as well, trying not to ruin this relationship you two had. this friendship you both have.

friendship. even the word sounds so ugly to think of, he doesn’t want to be your friend. “you don’t mean that,” you’re probably too drunk, alcohol in your system making you blubber shit you won’t even remember tomorrow.

lo’ak tries to get you up again, whispering it’s time to go home. you won’t lie when he told you ‘you don’t mean that’ but he might be right, you don’t trust yourself… at least not with commitment.

you won’t lie though, because it does feel so right when he was around, when he was protecting you, when he was laughing, spending time with you, hunting with you. him being with you felt right and he damn knows that it felt right with him too.

“i like you, lo’ak.” you deadpan, eyes boring to his skull. you want to give this a chance.

you watch him hesitate, your tipsy mind getting the best of you and pretty much not making sense to you right now. you’re partially convinced you’re in a dream right now if it wasn’t for his breath hitting your lips on how you two were so close.

you bite on your cheeks, waiting for him to reply.

you want to hiss at him, smack him for taking too long to answer but you’re anxious, your legs unconsciously clamping onto his thighs.

you let a soft breath out, thinking it’s the best to leave it be, forget what happened tonight. you decide to lift yourself up, getting off from his legs until he is now the one pulling you back.

“what are yo—…”

you’re silenced with a rough kiss, teeth clashing and making a sound from the impact. you moan into the kiss, feeling lo’ak’s hand slide to your nape and pulling you more, deepening the kiss.

he whimpers, ears pinned to his skull and almost eating your face. lo’ak doesn’t know what he’s doing, the reason behind pinning you to his mouth might be because he’s drunk but he doesn’t remember doing so but it feels so good.

the heated air eases when lo’ak pulls back, a string of saliva connects to both of your lips before it snaps and breaks. you hear lo’ak mutter something too vulnerable.

“don’t break my heart, please” you hear him whisper in a tone you can’t pinpoint, “i can handle anything but you breaking my heart, please princess.” you feel the pinch in your chest but shrug it off and close your eyes.

you don’t say anything but the kiss you two just had told him everything, he still felt how your fingers clinged onto his shoulder. it stays like that for a while, silence surrounding you two.

once you both calmed down, lo’ak was the first to give you a cheeky grin. “are you okay?,” he asks, two of his infamous beaded braids clinking together. you frown at his question, your hands put on his shoulder.

“yeah.” you say, watching him lean to press his forehead against yours. “good? because i only want you to be okay.” he’s so cliche, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. you just love him so bad.

love. the sudden pop of words makes your inside tingle.

you love lo’ak, you love the man you grew up with. you love your bes— “hey, i can hear you thinking.” you hear the man say and clear your throat, “it’s just..this is new to me and i’m scared.” you genuinely tell him.

“i’m scared too, baby.” argh, him and his stupid pet names, you just live for it. “but we’ll get through it, i’ll love you and we’ll make it.” his words are so comforting that you had to lean on him.

“i love you.” he tells you, licking his lips and kissing the middle of your brows meeting. “it’s okay if you don’t say it now, i’ll wait.” he’s so gentle and patient with you and you adore it.

“thank you.” you suck a deep breath. “don’t thank, pretty, it’s my want to wait for you so don’t feel guilty yeah?” you’re hesitant before you nod. lo’ak kisses your forehead again, gently rubbing on the skin of your arms.

“c’mon, let’s get back to the hut.” he tells you and you agree, your tipsy mind working fast and getting on your feet. you both think to call it a night and deal with everything tomorrow.

i’m so so so sorry i worried y’all for disappearing for days but my phone got stolen and i had to deal with it (i actually got it back now.), im sorry again! i’m okay tho and i’ll answer every ask tomorrow :(

i love each and everyone of you sm — like + reblogs & feedback are so appreciated! mwah **

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 8

part 1 | part 7 | ao3

He finds himself on Cherry Drive by muscle memory alone. Quarter mile past Maple Street, take the third left, the second right; drive straight through the next stop sign and suddenly the Hagan house is coming into view around the bend, bathed in dim yellow light from a flickering street lamp. A 50s era ranch house, painted brick with a detached one-car garage, weeds sprouting through the crooked old stones of the front walkway and leaves scattered across the lawn in mushy browns and orange-reds.

It's not as nice as Steve's place is.

Was.

Whatever.

Steve blinks, shakes himself fully awake; feels a jolt of fear at the idea that he just drove here in some kind of fugue state because he doesn't know what he's doing here. Tommy left for college, and fuck Tommy, anyway.

He pulls up to the house. Slows the car to a crawl.

It's dark inside, all the lights turned off except for a single table lamp in the entryway window; shaped like a sea turtle, its belly full of blue-green light. Mrs. H. loves the sea.

He wonders if they're out of town or if they're just asleep.

The Hagans go to bed early, he remembers. He spent so many nights talking in a hush in Tommy's room; 8:45pm and they'd be lying side by side on the floor beside his bed, reading comic books or sports mags and whispering about nothing. Tommy'd always thank Steve for coming over because he knew his house was a little boring; he was the kid with old parents who went to bed early and kept the radio turned down and wouldn't let them have sugary snacks even on the weekends. Steve would always just knock their shoulders together and smile 'don't mention it' because he'd hang out with Tommy anywhere.

"Anywhere?" "Yeah, anywhere." "What about in a cave?" "Sure." "Under a bridge?" "Don't see why not." "In the belly of a whale?" "Now you're just being dumb." "Am not!" "Are, too." "Oh, yeah? Well- shut up!"

That was usually the part where they got in trouble for making noise, caught red-faced and laughing while they wrestled on the floor.

There's warmth in his chest at the memory, and that part, he expects.

But also...

Something about it makes heat flare in his gut, shameful and feverish as it flashes through his mind: the phantom press of Tommy above him as he pinned his shoulders down; the way the flush on his cheeks made Tommy's freckles pop; the breathless smile he gave, so close their noses almost brushed...

A light turns turns on in the Hagans' hall.

Steve hits the gas.

He drives for a long while, feeling like an asshole for burning through their precious gas money, but too— too something to fully care. He's alone on a highway with dark pastures blowing by, with the heat on and windows down, and he's circling back toward home when Bruce Springsteen starts to play, all croaky static over the spotty radio.

Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.

Steve cranks it up and sings along. The song is cheesy, and he feels stupid, but he also feels free. Like there was a shackle around his throat and he didn't notice until it was gone. He shouts along to the chorus and then just shouts in general; long, guttural screams that feel like poison being purged. Tommy, his dad, the Russians, his mom. All of it, all of it spewing out of him into the cold night air.

He misses Carol suddenly. Her acidic attitude. The way it always ate through the worst of his sullen moods.

He can picture her now: perched on someone's lap in the crowded backseat, no seatbelt, manicured hand braced on the ceiling. She'd be smacking bubblegum and twirling a lock of her hair, and she'd roll her eyes at Steve's dramatics and ask whether he was done untwisting his panties yet. Steve would say something dumb and pervy in response, like, "Too busy dealing with girls' panties to focus on my own," and she'd roll her eyes harder and go, "God, you're fucking gross."

Carol's not here, though, so he just screams about her, too.

When he get back to Forest Hills his voice is hoarse. His body is tired; his soul is light. He's thinking, like: maybe he'll be okay. He'll channel his inner Claudia or Joyce and soldier on. Resilience, and all that shit.

He's almost smiling to himself when he turns into the park.

And then he sees the flashing lights.

There's an ambulance on his lot.

—

part 9

just gonna start tagging whoever commented the day before (if your settings will let me) bc i have the memory of a goldfish @a-little-unsteddie @slowandsteddie @pennyplainknits @thesuninyaface @hotluncheddie @messrs-weasley @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman @i-have-three-feelings @sirsnacksalot @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan #carol perkins #my writing #my fics #angst

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daenysthedreamersblog · 4 months

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STRANGERS II - HIS DARLING BLUEBELL

I tried to be good. Am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good?

If I'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick

part one here

summary: your victory tour has ended, and snow throws a party for you to let the bidding war over you begin. but as the time for the final deal draws closer, can president snow truly part with his favorite little victor?

pairings: president!snow x district6! reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, heavy drinking, non/dub-con touching / kissing, choking, dub-con, fingering, oral sex, power imbalance, slapping, spitting, me trying to describe hair styles, let me know if i forgot anything!

notes: hope you enjoy part two! tysm for reading 🤍

You couldn't sleep without two bottles of wine at least while also baring the train car door with a chair to keep him out. He never came or else you would have heard the banging. He would have tried and most likely succeeded breaking down the door and once again violating your space. You knew it would only enrage him more, locking him out, but it gave you some sense of peace. Allowed you to find sleep underneath piles of blankets surrounded by empty cups.

You also knew if he asked you nicely you would open the door in an instant, and you hated that part of yourself the most.

The train had stopped a long while ago and you waited for someone to retrieve you. You had removed the chair and sat there peacefully until the Avox came within the room beckoning to follow. You did, you followed them off the train and onto the concrete platform. Taking a deep breath, the smoke from the train blowing off into the winds; you found strength in the scent, found yourself wishing that puff of smoke was blowing you away with it.

President Snow was gone leaving you in worried silence wondering what corner he would be lurking around.

The tribute center hadn't changed in the months you had been gone and the ride up the elevator was actually nostalgic. How different life had been back then, how afraid you were for different things. It dinged on the sixth floor allowing you off and your feet gravitated to your old room. You peered to the right, to the door that would never open again revealing the freckle faced boy you had come here with. He had died in the first five minutes of the games and you never knew his name too caught up in your own woes about dying.

"Good afternoon miss." A bright smile greeted you. "President Snow sent me." She was flanked by two others opening kits of instruments and fabric and colored makeup. She had her hand around your back ushering you to the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up for him hmm?”

The chill went through you; for him. It might be a figure of speech since he was the President and everything was always inherently his. You lived in his districts, you won his games, you would always be his property, and maybe that’s why he felt a right to your body too. You let them strip you, let them wax and pluck and shave down every part of you until your skin was raw.

They sat you down and styled your hair into elegant waves down your back slicking your bangs against your head and behind your ears to let your hair hang permanently over your shoulders and down your back. They airbrushed makeup onto your face covering your lids in gentle colors, putting a soft pink gloss on your lips. And finally when that was done, when they had rubbed your body down with sweet smelling lotions and perfumes, did they slip on the dress.

It was white, a slight sparkle to it when the light hit it, off the shoulder sleeves hanging against your biceps a slight cowl neckline and bodice that hugged your waist, cinching it in tight. The skirt stopped at your feet the two stylist sliding you into white heels.

"You look absolutely ethereal." The stylist mused running fingers along your hair to get it perfect, smoothing down any stray pieces. "An image of innocence." Your eyes flashed to her, pride gleaming in her face, but the others. They seemed sad, almost ashamed as they turned away from you. "Final touches." She slipped the red rose corsage along your wrist the disgusting smell wafting up to your face. "Perfect. Now wait here until he comes to fetch you."

They left like they came, quickly and without many words leaving you in a heart drumming silence. The room felt like it was caving in and suddenly your breaths were hard to find as panic choked you, the bodice of the dress squeezing your lungs. You spun, gripping the back of the chair to walk, soon grappling for the armchair wanting to rip this dress off so you could breath. You forced an exhale out wrapping your arms around the back trying to rip it off. You couldn't do this, couldn't go out there and let him sell you, let him sell your body. You could hear your heart beat throbbing in your throat as you stumbled over to the small cart holding liquor white knuckles holding onto it to stay standing. You snatched the cap off, throwing it across the room and chugged the burning white liquid down until your insides felt on fire, until most of it was gone.

You threw it at the window, watching it shatter to pieces, but the window never broke trapping you in with light reflected shards of glass. You grabbed a bottle of wine off the cart, fell to the floor with a sob, dizzy and heavy with grief. Maybe you deserved all of this after everything, after killing that boy, after surviving, after some elder family member had rebelled. You ripped the top off the wine and drank deep wallowing in self-pity until your doom came for you.

The door open and closed without protest, no chair would keep him out anyways. You listened to the short clips of his shoes as he came around and stood behind you like a shadow, like a guardian angel. He tsked, squatting down, turning your face towards him. He looked immaculate in a white suit, a single red rose pinned to his chest; a perfect opposite to your ensemble.

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you stared up at him with scared eyes, "Please." You whimpered. “Don’t make me go out there.”

He raised his eyebrow, an amused look on his face, "Oh my darling bluebell." His hold on your face tightened as he yanked you forward forcing you to throw your hands out to brace the floor, "My good little bluebell." His eyes flickered around your face, a cold rage settling in and then his hand was around your neck stealing the breath out of you. You gaped at him, mouth opening and closing trying to force the words out, trying to claw up his arm to pull him off, but he only yanked you closer, bodies flush as your vision split and blurred. "As it is given...it can be taken away." He hissed pressing a bruising kiss to your lips, his hand loosing, the gasp opening up your mouth for him to slip inside.

His tongue was dominating, shoving down your throat as he attempted to devour you whole. It was a mesh of teeth and tongue; his kiss starving, hungry, like the Capitol never gave him enough food and he was planning to eat you. Fingers were digging in, carving out a place for him to control, breath by breath he took out of your chest until finally he pulled back, a string of spit trailing between the two of you.

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask him why he was doing all of this, but the words failed as your wide eyes flickered around his face.

He stood up and went to the door leaving you waiting in a pile of tears and broken glass. He opened the door, "Call Tigris." He instructed to someone outside of the door. Then it closed again, and he took a deep breath, your eyes flashed up to him as he readjusted his pants, the hard bulge in them prominent. He clicked his tongue hands resting on his hips as he stared at the ground, and then down at you still shaking on the floor.

Then he threw off his suit jacket. "Fuck it."

He came striding forward once more with purpose, lust blowing his pupils wide. "No!" You cried out falling back on your butt, crawling backwards until your leg snagged on the dress and you went tumbling to the ground. You rolled trying to scramble to your feet, but his hand had wrapped around your calf where the old scar still sometimes hurt. You clawed and kicked at him, "Please!" The sob broke out, feeling him pushing the pretty white dress up, the unbuckling sound ringing in your ears too loudly. "I've been good! I've been so good." You shook your head as he pinned your legs down with his hips. "Please Mr. President sir," Tears rolls down your cheeks. "Haven't I been good? Your good girl, please don't do this." You tried to fake tenderness by running your fingers down his arm, but nothing stopped him. It all fell on deaf ears as his hands found the hem of your underwear and he began to pull down. You thrashed more, cried and clawed at him, but he seemed content to ravage you.

"Coriolanus." A woman's voice shot through the room and he stilled atop of you hands slowly leaving from under the dress.

He sighed, his forehead pressing into yours as if it had been such a ruined intimate moment. He began to climb off, straightening himself up again. "Tigris." He said smoothing down his hair. "Get her cleaned up I'll be back in a half-hour."

You laid there in silence listening to him leave, listening to the door close with his exit the sound throbbing in your head. She finally came around staring at you disheveled on the floor. "Come on." She grabbed your hand helping you up, and back into the chair in front of the vanity. It wasn't horrible considering all that had happened. Your lipstick was smudged with small marks of mascara tracks down your face, which she solved in a matter of minutes. Your hair had only needed a quick brush and more spray to fix. Then you were perfect again; like he had never touched you. The feeling remained; his hungry lips on yours, his devouring hands. Your lip began to wobble as water welled, "Don't cry." You blinked up at her, "Please." She whipped out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of your eye to prevent the liquid from spilling over. "Are you alright?"

You only stared at her with furrowed brows at the dumbest question she could have asked. You pushed her away gathering shaking breaths as you turned from her.

"He..." She sighed still looking at you. "He is...he just..." You glared at her over your shoulder and she dropped her voice, "I'm sorry he is doing this you."

"If you were sorry," You seethed letting your anger show. It was rare. "You wouldn't fix me up so he can sell me like a prized mare!"

Tigris frowned truly saddened by the words taking a step back like you had slapped her. "I'm sorry." She said again grabbing her things and beginning to retreat. "I'm sorry." She went to the door opening it, "Coriolanus." She said staring up at him. "Can I speak w-!"

"Go." He gritted out as she stumbled out of the door and into the hall. He slammed the door behind her. He stared at the closed door for a second, took a deep breath, then turned to take you in once again, "Perfection." He smiled as you slowly turned to fully look at him. He came forward and your foot slid back, "Oh my little bluebell." He mused continually moving for you. "I didn't mean to mess up your makeup." He took your hands in his not really offering anymore of an explanation. "Can you forgive me?" He kissed your knuckles staring at you expectingly from under his lashes.

What were you to say to the president of Panem? No?

"I forgive you, Mr. President, sir."

He beamed, hands coming around your face, "That's my good girl." His thumb caressed your cheek, "Now give me a kiss." You sucked in a breath and let him guide you to his mouth pressing your lips to his own. He hummed gently against you, tongue sweeping along your bottom lip, but he pulled back your gloss shining on his plush mouth. "Don't want to make us late." He pushed stray pieces of hair off your neck and tucked your arm in his elbow to lead you out of the room. "I have a few people I want you to meet..." He kept talking but you drowned him out as he walked you down the hallway his grip borderline painful.

He ushered you out into the hall with ohs-awes echoing around everyone straining to get a look at the Capitol's pet until the next games rolled around. Snow was speaking motioning to you and once everyone had toasted to him, the Capitol, the games did he begin to pull you around the room; a pretty accessory on his arm.

"Isn't she lovely." He said introducing you to a herd of men staring greedily. You stared ahead, far away as you heard him whisper about you, something about being well behaved, a few chuckles followed and pocket books opened, "Come," He opened his arm wide for you to walk forward. "Introduce yourself."

Your name sounded foreign, like it didn’t belong to you anymore as you shook their hands. "Nice to meet you sir," With each pleasantry and curtsy. It went around and around until you felt dizzy with each turn you made to meet someone new, someone who wanted to buy a body because 23 others had died. For some reason it made you curl against your fearsome President more as if he would stop these vultures from descending upon you; how ironic. You tugged on his hand to make him look. How dark his blue eyes seemed to get seeing you clinging to him like a savior.

"What is it?" He dropped his voice his hand patting yours.

You gazed up with pleading eyes, "I need a drink."

"Yes, of course." He leaned lower stroking your chin, "Not too much remember?" You nodded as he straightened up and smiled.

"Will you excuse me gentlemen?" You peered at the circle of buyers.

One had his arm wrapped around your bicep and your eyes flared up as he yanked you, "I can walk you over there."

No, no, no. You wildly searched for Snow behind his tall frame, and didn't have to look for long as a hand appeared on the man's chest, "Get your hands off her before I have them removed from your body." His voice was low. The man scoffed. This is what they were there for; me, and their president was stopping their grubby, money stained hands. Snow stepped closer, "Did I not make myself clear."

The hand fell off you and you rubbed the redness, "You promised that we-!"

"I didn't promise anything." Snow stood tall staring down his nose at the man. "Especially not to you." He waved a hand and you heard peacekeepers moving in, his eyes met yours, "Go."

"Mr. President, sir." You hid the shake in your voice as you slipped away hearing the whispers of praise about the view walking away was giving them. You didn't look back as you charged to the refreshments table grabbing the expecting flute from the servant's hand. You chugged it swiftly before anyone could notice and then forced them to refill. This time you drank it slower, body still lagging from the liquor you had drowned in earlier. If you kept in a constant daze everything felt a little more distant, like your drunk mind had made it up, fabricated the story.

"He sure does seem to like playing with you." Your head snapped to the young woman, the victor from District 4. "Mags," She smiled. She slid up besides you, nursing her own flute of champagne, "It gets easier."

"When?"

She chuckled, "When they get bored, when other victors emerge. You got bad luck, you're the first female victor since my games." Which was four games ago, "They're salivating simply to smell you." She took a sip from her flute, "You should have never told him you were a virgin."

Your eyes were wild. "H-How?" Don't stutter darling, your mother's voice, It isn't proper.

"You think he wouldn't 'leak' that to the posse he sells us all to?" Mags shook her head, "It's made mutts of them all."

"It was an accident." You took a shaky breath remembering that day on the train. "I thought something was going to happen and I wanted him to st-!"

Her hand grabbed your arm, "He's touching you?" Her grip grew firm, "Isn't he?"

You drained the flute to avoid her seeing your horridly confused face, "Did he not..."

"No, never." Her face held genuine concern. "Some minor comments, but no he never. Didn't parade me around on his arm, didn't coordinate outfits," Mags scoffed, "He made me wear this ugly teal thing as homage to my district." You couldn't speak, couldn't seem to settle yourself. "Maybe because of the whole new victory tour he felt he could get away with more. He does like his power-trips, and you're such a obedient little thing. His cock probably is straining in his pants just looking at you all pouty." You set the flute down holding your hand to your head to stop the thoughts from pouring out, dizzy with her words. They felt so brutal like the blows were hitting you in the heart. "Oh dear. I'm sorry I really never know when to shut-up." She turned you to face her, "It's alright. Here." She grabbed a fresh flute of champagne and forced it into your hands, "The first time is the hardest, after that it gets easier and once they get bored it will stop. You need to be strong okay?" Her hands ran down the skin of your arms as if trying to warm your soul. "It will be over soon. I'm here. I understand, all the victors do."

You drained your flute like it was the air you needed. "Why is he doing this to me?"

Mags only frowned sadly, "I don't know. I used to hear stories about him, before he was President. Rumors says during the 10th Hunger Games he was a mentor, but theres no proof, everything got wiped. Afterwards, he got shipped to District 12 for some rules he broke during school. When he came back he was different; he came back that man." Your eyes landed on him across the room, and he was watching you over the rim of his glass. "Something changed in him out there, and ever since he's been working his way to the top, keeping the Games, making them more brutal and publicized each year."

"What do I do?" You pleaded with her.

She tried to smile taking your hand, but it never reached her eyes, "Be careful. He's dangerous, and let's just say, I'm surprised anyone is going to bid for you seeing the way he keeps you so close." She had this look indicating she wasn't sure what was worse; the leeching men or Snow's protection. It wasn't sound advice, but you tucked it close because what else were you supposed to do; burn the Capitol down.

No one person couldn't do that.

You glanced back at him, anger laced in his stare as men talked at him.

You knew which was worse.

It was midnight by the time you stumbled into your room kicking your shoes off towards the far end of the wall and grabbing the brown liquor you had left from earlier. Your stomach garbled with hunger, but you just tossed the glass decanter cap away hearing it shatter behind you and pushed the bathroom door open. You turned the faucet on setting the glass container down to attempt to undo the bodice of the dress. You got half way down before you gave up unable to reach, too tired, too drunk, too ogled at to care. You climbed into the tub, decanter in hand, the water soaking into the fabric weighing you down as you slid into it. How pathetic. How was this the epitome of desire, a drunken, wet, sad little girl.

Maybe that was how they liked them.

You turned the water off with your foot as it sat just under your chin, wet hair floating around you. You took another long drink eyes heavy, brain swirling with everything Mags had told you tonight. You couldn't make sense of it all, not now, a part of you didn’t ever want to figure it out, it was simply too much to dissect and what good would it do. He was still going to sell you off to whoever he wanted until your name was a joke they spoke over whiskey.

Ugly red rose petals floated around you from the ruined corsage around your wrist. Your ears were underwater, the idea of drowning yourself more appealing the more sleep pulled you under. The water dulled the sound of the bathroom door closing, but there he was staring down at you in the bath. He was dressed down, his suit jacket gone, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, his perfect hair slightly curled in some parts. He almost looked normal, handsome even if you allowed yourself to admire it. You picked your head up as he knelt beside the tub, "You could have called for help to take the dress off."

"I was impatient." You took a swig from the bottle a glare in your eyes.

"I can tell." He chuckled, his fingers dancing on the edge of the water, playing with soaked rose petals, urging you to disagree with the movement. "I saw you speaking to Ms. Flanagan.”

You glanced over at him. He was expecting an answer and you couldn't tell him the true meaning of the conversation or else Mags could get in trouble. "That it must be nice to be President Snow's favorite victor." You took another drink, "I told her that isn't true, it would be wrong of you to pick favorites."

He smiled to himself, "It isn't wrong; I do have a favorite."

“Did he not…"

“No, never.”

You knew he wasn't lying, knew in the way his eyes drank you in he wasn't lying. He took a deep breath, folding up his sleeves, coming around the back of the tub, "I did a lot of thinking." His hand came up to your neck, running down the wet flesh, fanning your hair out of the way. "And you were right." His lips were pressing against your jugular kissing down and across your shoulders his hands following the same trail.

"About what?" Your chest was rising and falling too fast vision blurring, brain clouded.

His mouth was against your ear, "You have been so good to me." He bit down on your ear. His hand was dipping further into the water until it was fighting your heavy skirt to get underneath, "And I've been so selfish."

You froze as you watched in horror as his hand disappeared underneath the skirts of the dress. He shifted his other hand coming around to float down your chest. He was under the hem of your underwear as your lips parted in a gasp feeling the slide of his fingers against your folds. Your hands were coming up to stop him, "Mr. President plea-!"

Two fingers sunk into you. You cried out, hips bucking at the contact, but his other arm slammed you back into the tub, "Shh, shh, it's okay." He whispered into your ear. "It will feel good." He kissed your neck, his other hands slipping under the neckline to grip your breast. You had your claws in his arm as he slowly moved his fingers inside of you.

Conflicting feelings began to arise within you, you felt fear at the intrusion, but your face burned as pleasure shot through your body. It shouldn't feel good, but he said it would, and so it did. Him touching you this way shouldn't bring a blush to your cheeks, an aching throb to your core. He was curling his fingers inside of you stroking a deep sweet spot you could never reach on the nights you had tried to explore your own body. At the same time his thumb brushed over your nipple kneading your breast into his hand.

You felt your hands slipping off of him.

"Let me make you feel good. I know you want to, can feel your pussy sucking me in." You chewed on your lip turning your face from him as your knees involuntarily curled up, spreading you open more for him, "There you go," his husky voice said in your ear as he once again shifted to push his hand inside further, the other squeezing your breast. You bit back the noise gurgling in your throat; no your body had betrayed you enough, you would not let him hear it too. "I saw you," He panted nearly engulfing you with his chest. "I saw you looking at me, clinging to me, begging me to save you from those men who want to take you from me." His thumb swirled around the sensitive bud between your legs and your hand shot up twisting into his shirt, toes curling, "I wanted to fuck you in front of them all, watch them drool as I take what is mine and not theirs." His thrust were vicious, his thumb pressing down, the other hand pinching and rolling your nipple. "Mine." He hissed against your hot skin.

You threw your head back against his chest the moan breaking from the confines of your throat. His eyes were there to greet you, his hand pulling off your breast to wrap into your hair forcing you to stay put, to keep staring at him. Because he wanted to see your face as he made you come undone, as he burned through you like wildfire. Yours eyes screwed up, fast pants leaving your agape mouth, and all you could do was keep his gaze as he brought you to the peak of ecstasy.

"Cum for me," He growled, "Be my good girl and cum right now." Maybe it was the trained etiquette built in, maybe it was him, but your body clamped down on his hand stars spilling into your vision as you came. It felt like betrayal; it felt wrong to let the pleasure leak out of your body as his hand stayed rooted within you. His mouth was on yours stealing breath from your lungs as he shoved his tongue between your teeth. It was possession and ownership and it was all his to command. His bit down on your bottom lip tugging until his teeth broke skin, and then he was kissing you again the taste of rust filling your mouth, brain unsure what to feel but the pain oozing from the open wound and the delicious pulsing between your legs.

You couldn't kiss him back. Couldn't do anything but lay limp in the water for him. You came down from the high he had given you confused as the bliss danced down your spine. Until finally his hand slipped out of you, the emptiness tugging in a weird place and you stared at him blankly. He kissed your lips again, gently like it would break you. Your bottom lip was trembling as he pushed you forwards undoing the rest of the dress. It felt so wrong, everything, he had violated you in a such a way and you had let him because your body couldn't avoid the pleasure he had made you feel

He pulled you out of the soaking dress, and picked you up from the bath, head lolling against his chest. You were naked and dripping when he placed you on the bed not caring enough to even dry you off as stray red petals clung to your skin. He was still pawing at you as you stared up at the ceiling, hands on your naked flesh, nails digging in where he wanted to grab. "So soft," You heard him mutter his mouth tasting along your body, drinking in your moisture.

Your head was somewhere else, the alcohol, the orgasm, the exhaustion was dragging you under. You couldn't quite see him anymore, "Please," You mumbled his tongue circling your nipple, fingers inside your sopping cunt once more. "I'm so tired." Tears were rolling down your cheeks, or was that simply water from the bath? Why were you crying if it felt good? He hadn't forced himself inside your mouth, inside you, he was rewarding you for your good behavior.

"Shh." He only hushed you. "Close your eyes." You did close your eyes unable to keep them open, a soft whine leaving your throat as he pushed your legs apart, "Look at you," His voice sounded underwater he was still speaking, but you couldn't hear him anymore his hand viciously thrusting inside of you. "Do you like that?"

You were whispering something, but couldn't feel the words your head being pulled into the pillow fingers clawing at him, for him.

"You do." You felt warmth between your legs and soon his head was there, his tongue licking up the center of you a smile beneath it all.

You orgasmed one more time before blackness pulled you under.

You awoke to an empty bed. You groaned barely able to open your eyes the air hitting your bare chest. He had left you here, alone and drenched in your own arousal. Your thighs were soaked and sticky his own pleasure splattered across your breast. You wanted to sob, each shaky breath hurt your ribs, but the tears never came. Because as you stroked your fingers through everything he had pulled out of you, you knew you had let this happen, you had let him do this to you. Your body had given itself over willingly to him as you rubbed the proof between your fingers. You wanted to feel shame; you wanted to feel broken, but all you felt was left over euphoria from what he had given you.

He had never fucked you; you would have known. You would feel the pain of something like that, see the blood as he broke through your maidenhead. No, he had just feasted on your flesh, drained every drop he could and abandoned you here. You rolled over, body sore from what he had done and slowly rose from the bed.

Then you padded to the bathroom, reran the bath, and soaked his touch off.

The stylist team came again, Tigris came again. Curling your hair, pinning it half up-half down, smearing on more makeup, and sliding you into a chiffon lavender dress. Another image of innocence; a sweet girl pliant for men.

"How are you?" She asked placing more foundation in a mark he had pressed into the flesh on your neck. He had tried to be careful, biting and bruising what no one could see loosing control most of the time, but you saw it. Saw the outline of every half moon cut he had made, the teeth indents of his mouth, the deep blues and purples littering your skin. He fashioned himself an artist; your naked body was his masterpiece signing his name is white pleasure.

You blinked up at her, "Why me?" You didn't think you could trust her with the knowledge Mags had told you; that he had never touched her, and instead singled you out.

Her brush slowed, "I don't know."

"I'm no one, just a girl from District 6." You glanced down as she pulled her hand back. "I'm nobody."

"You're not." She whispered. "You're a-you won." Her back was to you as she set down her things, "He..."

You waited until she turned back around to look into her eyes, "He's a monster." She saw some goodness in him that wasn't there and you had no idea why.

Tigris was abhorred. "I don't know why he's doing this. He's possessive and his obsession drives him mad sometimes. I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She packed her things quickly leaving the room in a panicked rush as you sat in silence.

An Avox came by an hour later leading you down the elevator and out where a sleek black car waited on the curb. Your heart stuttered as the door was held open for you a hand outstretched to help you inside. He was sitting within, red leather seats sinking you in. "How did you sleep?" He brushed a knuckle over his lips to hide the smirk as the door closed behind you.

"Good." You lied. It was deep, but waking up was jarring. You still felt the ache of his touch inside of you, the feel of his mouth wrapped around your clit. "Thank you Mr. President, sir."

His hand fell on your thigh. "I'm having you moved to the mansion." He told you, "I don't like you being so far away where I can't protect you." You swallowed the look in your eyes asking him, from what? "These men are desperate for you," He stroked your leg an attempt at a reassuring look in his eyes. "I'm afraid at what they might do before a deal is set. I want you close, where I know where you are all the time."

He wanted you in his cage, but he did have a point. "Thank you Mr. President, sir." Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. You didn't want a deal set, you didn't want other men hunting you down and taking more pieces of you. "Are we..." You gazed out the window. Are we going to one of them now, you wanted to ask.

"Yes and no; he'll come by the house later. I think you'll like him." He turned towards the window. "I want to show you something first." The drive was quiet. You were too afraid to ask anymore question in fear it would break your resolve further. He kept his hand on your leg and when the car stopped he held onto you tightly leading you away from the road towards his home. "You showed me yours; I think it only fitting I show you mine." He whispered close to your ear gripping around your waist as he led you down a side path towards what seemed to be a large greenhouse.

"Oh." You said staring up at it. It was a formidable beast defiantly more kept than your lousy garden at home. Was it even home anymore? You weren't quite sure of anything anymore. He had given you no inclination on when he would let you return. Perhaps when the 'deal' was set you would be allowed to leave until a new victor emerged. He opened the door for you leading you inside letting it click close. The room was covered in roses, just roses. "It's beautiful," You lied taking it all in. He had every color, but white roses took up most of the space, like they were beginning to dominate every root in the soil. It was too pristine, too clean to be anything but frighteningly horrid.

The greenhouse door locked into place, and your breath halted with it. You focused on a blooming white rose running your fingers along the soft petals. You don't know why the idea of being alone with him still scared you when he had seen you at your most vulnerable. "Did you enjoy last night?"

"The party was wonderful." You absentmindedly said; it wasn't what he was inquiring about.

He chuckled his footsteps slow coming closer, "Yes it was a nice party for you," He was standing behind you now. "Everyone was enchanted by you," He trailed his fingers down your skin. "They wouldn't stop talking about all the different ways they wanted to fuck you," His chest was pressing into your back as his hand slithered around your body coming up to your neck to grip your jaw, "But I got to taste your pleasure first, got to feel the softness of your tongue around my cock, got to hear all the pretty noises you make." Your throat bobbed feeling the hardness press into your backside as his thumb pressed into your bruised lip. "I know you enjoyed last night, my darling bluebell, by how drenched my face was buried in your sweet cunt for hours."

Hours. He had been there for hours between your legs, touching you, stealing from you, feasting on you while you were blacked out. You couldn't speak, couldn't move as the vision choked the air from you, his mouth dragging along the tense muscle in your neck.

"Do you still feel me down there?" He was bunching up the skirts of your dress. And maybe deep inside your brain it remembered him drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you because your body heated, your core grew slick. Treachery coursed through you at your body, at the fact it was less weary of him than you were. "You're fucking wet." He laughed as if he too was astounded by the moistness gathering in your panties as he rubbed his hands along the front of them. He became ravenous after then shoving his hand inside of you with such a force you fell forward. Potted plants clattered to the ground in a pile of dirt and glass, but he didn't care. He only shoved his hand deeper his body curling around you, enveloping you, "You're so fucking soft; like fucking rose petals." He pressed a third finger inside of you and you bit down on the scream, a small whine floating through the quiet air as he stretched you open. "You want my cock inside of you don't you?" He bit down on your neck, "You want me to fill you so badly, you want me to be the one to do it."

"No!" You cried out as he slammed your chest to the table the plants once sat on. The room was filled with the squelching sounds his hand made every brutal thrust into you, your arousal dripping down your legs. You gripped the table feeling him pulling your skirts up around your back, ripping off your underwear leaving you bare for him. You knew deep down your body would take him, suck him in greedily, allowing him to live there while you writhed in agony and embarrassment. Maybe it had something to do with the small power you felt that he was unable to control his desire for you, or maybe it was simple need. Wicked, cruel thing human nature seemed to be, she laughed at you while allowing him to take more, more, more.

You kicked your leg out trying to buck him off, but he slammed your head back down slapping your backside harshly, "Behave." He growled. You yelped as he slapped you once more his hand pulling out of you. He held you down by a large hand on your head as you squirmed, listening to him unsheathe himself.

"Please," You whimpered. "Please you don't want to do this. You-you said...you'll ruin me for your deal and-and-!”

He spit in your face the warmth of it landing along the corner of your lips and cheek. It trickled into your mouth and your tongue darted out for more. "Don't stutter." He yanked your hips back, "And be my good girl and fucking take it." You were crying now, crying as more wetness slipped out of you, crying as he ran his cock along your folds, crying as the tip of him lined up with your entrance, crying as you wanted him inside you so badly it burned.

A knock on the glass door stilled him before he could push inside of you and you nearly passed out from relief. "Sir?" Someone called inside, "Your guest has arrived."

You were taking large gulps of air every shake of your body rocking against the tip of him. "I'll be right there." He shouted back angrily. He was motionless behind you a deep frustrated sigh the only reminder he was there, a few moments from taking what he so desperately wanted it seemed. "Get on your knees." He pulled your body up and forced you to the ground, bare knees scraping in the broken glass. "Open your mouth." Your body relaxed as you took him; you knew this, you had been through this, you could take it, mouth moist from his spit. He wasn't as kind as before, if you could even call that kind. Forcing his cock to the back of your mouth, snapping his hips against your face as he yanked your hair around to move your head, "So good. So," Snap. "Fucking," Snap. "Good." He had your face buried within his skin as your tongue involuntarily swiped around him feeling his movements stutter at the unwarranted sensation. "You fucking like my cock inside your mouth." You weren't sure, but it was becoming familiar and the safer option, and you didn’t mind the taste of him. He reached down grabbing your hand pulling it to the shaft swirling around it with your palm, "Do it yourself sweet girl, do what I tell you."

So you did. You did what he wanted you to do, swirling your hand around the shaft, took his cock deeper until you gagged letting the spit spill out of the corners of your mouth. Your tongue ran along the head until his movements grew erratic and his thigh became taut hot ropes of cum spilling down your throat.

"Swallow it." He commanded snapping your jaw shut after he pulled out. "All of it." His breaths were heavy. You gazed up at him feeling the remnants trickle down your throat. His eyes were dark, demanding, obsessive. "I want you to kiss his cheek with my cum still on your breath." He left you on the ground as he went to the door. "Clean her up, get her ready for lunch." He called to some servant.

You glanced down at the dirt staining your chest from where he slammed you, the blood blooming on the dress from your scraped knees, your smeared makeup no doubt. You let them help you up and cart you back to the house.

An hour later, and now a pink dress covering your skin, you sat down at the table. It was a small thing, set to fit only six people in a small room cascaded in sunlight. The windows were open letting in warm air and a breeze that ruffled the curtains. He sat to the chair next to you cutting into his food while he spoke to you...buyer. The highest bidder.

The man was handsome, maybe a tad older than the darling President, but not by much. He had dark hair and darker eyes a slight shadow of a beard gracing his features. He wore a light blue suit that was almost tacky compared to Snow's deep green. You shook your head at the ridiculousness of comparing the two, comparing the buyer to the seller.

And yet, President Snow's presence comforted you, which in turn disgusted you. It gave you a headache and you drank dainty sips from your cup of sparkling wine hoping to avoid the feelings this afternoon was invoking from you. A mere hour ago he was shoving his cock down your throat, and you had savored the flavor of him. Now he was wanting money for your virtue. You glanced across the table once more.

You had won the games, and this was your peace they had promised.

There was no winning. Only surviving.

He left after an hour long lunch barely speaking to you at all, but when he left he grabbed you. He pulled you in close hand blatantly spread across your back side as he forced you to kiss his cheek. Could he smell it? Could he smell his President's cum stuck between your teeth?

When he left Snow had an anger to him which surprised you given the fact he was the one pawning you off, he should be happy.

Your eyes met, sunlight heating your back from the window as you watch his teeth grind together never looking away from you. Then your face began to fall, knees wobbling, at the realization of the reason behind his anger.

He forced you away without another word.

PART THREE HERE!

( its disgustingly smutty so bring holy water )

notes: this had WAY too much plot sorry lmao

tags: @astarborntowrite , @genderfluid-anime-goth , @merlieve , @darktrashsoulbear

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo smut #dark fanfic #fanfic #dark fanfiction #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coryo snow #president coriolanus snow #dark coriolanus snow #dark coriolanus

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industrations · 2 months

Note

will you ever draw masc sirius? not to compare artists but recently i've just noticed masc sirius pics get more notes and ppl get more pissed off bc of fem sirius. it's ok if you draw fem wolfstar (fem sirius AND fem remus) but it's kinda weird you only draw remus masc. kinda heteronormative. when wolf is gay. plus canonically sirius was masc and remus was fem (sirius was the biker and remus was short.) it's ok you're more into fanon but canon is real so i'm just curious if you will ever draw masc sirius. if you will it'll be very cool and i'm sure you'll get more notes too.

This is the LAST time I'm going to be talking about this because I'm so TIRED of this debate.

Firstly, the "canon" you speak of is written by this person. So think before you start arguing anything about canon.

Then, since apparently some of you still cannot read. I DO NOT DRAW FOR YOU; I DRAW FOR ME. I could not care less about notes or likes or popularity. I'm just here to have fun and enjoy my time. That you are so concerned about notes is your own problem, not mine, but I suggest you change that because notes do not equal any sort of value, and this mindset is just going to be bad for anyone's mental health.

My favourite thing as a person whose gender is literally all over the place is getting to express that through the characters I draw. For ME, this mainly happens through Sirius because his "canon" is this very HETERONORMATIVE man. The freedom of him being able to step away from that and to be allowed to be whatever he wants to be on that day is just wonderful. Sirius, for me, is a reminder that no matter what you're born as or whatever people say you should be, it does not say anything about how you feel or express yourself.

Remus will forever keep evolving for me. He's also allowed to be whoever he wants to be. When I read fics he looks different in every single one. And if you actually paid attention to my art, you can see that he does not always look the same. For me, Remus is a comfort. He will always be a long, wet noodle with bad knees to me. He will always have his scars and his freckles, and those are what make him beautiful. I'm not sure why people immediately assume this is something that makes him "the man" or "the top". If that's what you're thinking when you see them, then there's something gone wrong on your side because you are deciding what a queer relationship is supposed to look like, when in fact you are the one being homophobic and heteronormative.

Also that my Sirius is shorter and more gender-y so to say, does not mean he can't kill a bitch on sight. He could break Remus in half in a second if he wanted to.

Anyway, I'm off to draw some dead gay wizards in whatever way I want to <3 love you guys. Truly the majority of you make me feel safe and seen, and I couldn't have wished for a more supportive community

#IF ANYONE ELSE SENDS ME AN ASK LIKE THIS YOU ARE GETTING BLOCKED ON SIGHT #okay #no more #you are being harmful to the queer community #just think before you speak and not everything is fucking black and white

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bayjaruchel · 6 months

Text

Always

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Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hiccup has a lot on his mind. You help him relax, in more ways than one. (3.6k) (originally posted on ao3)

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Whenever Hiccup was tired — either mentally or physically — he'd find you.

It wasn't like you didn't spend time together when he was in good health, though. On the contrary, you saw him basically every day. After the whirlwind of events that involved him, a certain Night Fury, and the Red Death, you'd somehow been flung into a rapidly developing relationship.

Sure, he was … Shy, at first. But also devastatingly sweet. Excruciatingly compassionate. Sometimes you wondered what you'd done to deserve him — correction, what you'd done to earn his perhaps years- long infatuation with you, which you learned about later. Honestly, you still didn't know. Whenever you tried asking, his prepubescent bashfulness roared back like a Thunderdrum.

Not that you minded too much. It was still cute.

Regardless, whenever you spent time together, it was usually pre-planned. Maybe you'd have lunch together. Maybe you'd go on long flights — dragons either flying in lazy overlapping figure-eights or shooting through the air, diving precariously to skim the surface of the ocean. The location or activity didn't matter much, as long as you were together. Sometimes, you'd just sit together on the high hills near his home and watch the sky. Still, all those things were proper dates, with proper times and proper locations. Hiccup rarely liked to intrude on your personal time.

However, on occasion, he'd break that personal law of his.

This was one of those certain occasions.

He found you, already in your house due to the late hour.

You could tell he'd been out flying, due to his ruffled appearance. Although his hair was always at least a little out of place, it wasn't normally this windswept without good reason. He'd shed his helmet, but not his armor; upon entering, though, he took off his vambraces and delicately placed them on the table nearest the door.

Automatically, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms around your upper back. When you returned his embrace, he practically melted into you, hair tickling your cheek where he'd tucked his head into your shoulder. Hiccup smelled faintly of the sea, and of dragons; it made you wonder just how far he'd gone.

"Hey," he mumbled, muffled into your tunic.

"Hey yourself." Turning just so, you pressed a kiss into his hair. "Something on your mind?"

He backed away a little, raising his head to look at you, but didn't let go. He looked tired, shoulders slumped and eyes faintly shadowed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Sounded tired, too. Frowning, you reached up to idly push a lock of auburn hair out of his face. He leaned subtly into your touch, seeking further the warmth of your hand on his skin. At your proximity to him, you could pick out the slight stubble he'd developed. Or his freckles, patterned like constellations across his cheeks and nose. His eyelashes were pretty, too, but he'd never understood why.

"You didn't push Toothless too hard, did you? He's strong, I know, but even he can only take so much before having to rest." Fondly, you added, "he'd follow you to the ends of the Earth, that one."

His eyes softened. "I know. But I swear I didn't wear him out — we only flew for so long before heading back."

"Good."

You looked at each other for a moment, smiling, before your hand found a familiar place on his cheek.

"... Did something happen?"

Hiccup's gaze darted off to the side, his expression fading back into one of weariness.

"Yeah? I guess?" He paused, before glancing back at you. "I should've seen it coming, but, you know me — always blowing things out of proportion, at least by a little bit." Laughing weakly, he probably would've done one of his sardonic arm movements if he wasn't still holding you. Speaking of, his grip tightened, just a bit.

"Long story short, my dad wants me to be his … successor." He winced. "Uh, he wants me to be the next chief."

"Oh."

You searched his expression and didn't find much of anything. "That's … "

" … A lot," finished Hiccup, resigned. "Yeah, it's a lot."

"A lot of … bad stuff?"

Of course, anyone with two working eyes and a brain would be aware of the fact that Hiccup was very much not like his father. Stoick wasn't a bad man, even if he did have his faults — he and his son merely resembled two opposing elements, clashing and yet harmonizing at the same time. Where the current chief of the Hooligans was brash, all fire and aggression, Hiccup was anything but. He kept to himself most of the time, preferring to spend time alone with Toothless.

You believed in him, and you always would — it was just that, if he needed to step up as a leader, you were worried about how he'd handle it.

"Bad stuff, good stuff, just — stuff," he blustered, his voice rising in volume. "Honestly, I've been avoiding my dad. For the past day or so. I can't even look him in the eye without — without thinking about that . " Inhaling sharply, he slowly released his breath in an attempt to calm himself.

It didn't seem to work.

"I can't accept that responsibility."

Quietly, you brushed aside his bangs again. "You haven't talked to him about it at all? He'd listen," you insisted. "He's not as closed-minded as he used to be."

Hiccup's brow furrowed as he stepped back, arms falling back to his sides. "But he still wouldn't understand why. He'd be all— " Dropping his tone and puffing out his chest in a clear imitation of his father, he declared, "Son, it's only inevitable! You might as well step up while ye can! No use denyin' destiny!"

You couldn't help but smirk. "Hey, you got his accent spot-on."

"Why, thank you." He brightened for a moment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes I wonder if I exaggerate it."

"Maybe just a little."

"Aw, man." Shaking his head solemnly, he humored you for a moment. But quickly, he was serious again. "Regardless of my expertise in the great, great field of accent imitation … "

"He wouldn't understand that — all of those speeches, and planning, and running the village — it's second nature to him, at this point." Hiccup rolled his shoulders, averting his eyes from yours. "But for me — no, that's not me. I can't be the leader he thinks I'll be — I can't just slip into that role." Running one hand through his hair, he waved his other in a disjointed motion. "Being the pride of Berk doesn't mean I'll automatically become that strong, confident chief that's needed."

"I guess what I'm trying to get at is that — I'm not him. And I never will be." Dropping his hands back to his sides, he turned his attention to the window. Outside, it was dark, but the sky was clear. A drowsy quiet had fallen upon Berk, a far cry from its usual liveliness.

"And I never met my mother, so … what does that make me?"

Finally, he met your eyes once more. Your heart ached for him.

When you pulled him into another hug, he didn't resist.

For a minute, you just stayed like that — wrapped around one another. And then, you broke the silence.

"You don't have to be your father. Or your mother." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but you kept going. "I know you're still searching for yourself — who you are — but that's alright. People can change and grow over time, Hiccup. Even if they think they can't." You gently traced circles over his back. "Even if you think you can't."

His breath was unsteady as he exhaled.

When he spoke, he sounded vulnerable.

"Do you think that … I could be a good chief?"

You didn't hesitate before responding. "Of course I do. Maybe you're not ready right now, but when you are, you'll be the strong leader that Berk needs." Another kiss, pressed to his temple. "I just know it."

Hiccup sighed deeply, relaxing more into your arms. For a guy as tall and lanky as he was, he had no problem with making himself smaller in your presence. You had a feeling he even preferred it that way.

"What would I do without you, huh?"

Tenderly, he cupped your face.

You couldn't help but tease him, though.

"Wallow in your own despair, maybe." Leaning in slowly, you gave him a look. "Well, more than usual."

He smiled, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Ouch."

Still, he met you halfway. His lips were a little chapped, maybe, but other than that you had no complaints. As your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer, his hands fell to your waist with a gentle but firm grip. He tasted very faintly of honey.

It was all very sweet — pun not intended — and you didn't stop it when the kiss deepened. He hummed contentedly, just before you parted; both breathing heavier than you had been before. It was only a brief moment, a brief pause -- and then his lips were on yours again. Passionately, not hungrily. He'd never been a taker. Always a giver.

Inches from you, after you parted for maybe the seventh or eighth time — you weren't quite keeping count— he murmured something, breathlessly.

"Can we take this to bed?" He looked at you with nearly half-lidded eyes, and then added a quiet "please?"

"If you want to," you answered, softly.

"Very much," was his reply, followed by another dizzying kiss.

His armor and various articles of gear were soon discarded into a small pile, leaving him in just his dark green tunic, pants, and other assorted under-layers.

At first, he'd been a bit awkward concerning his prosthetic. Insecure. But now, after climbing onto the mattress with you, he deftly removed it and put it to the side with a dull clunk . It didn't come up often as an issue, anyway — after a fair bit of messing around, trying to find positions that wouldn't cause him to lose his balance and topple over, you'd adapted quite easily.

Right now, you weren't even moving at a speed that could possibly make him fall over.

He settled back onto the pillows as you hovered over him. Then, you leaned down to continue what you'd started. His hands settled somewhere on your back — he made a small noise as your tongue slipped into his mouth. Warm and longing, he pulled you impossibly closer, craving the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Soon, his hands snaked below your tunic, seeking out your skin. You giggled, a little — his fingers were always cold after a flight — but they would warm up. In the meantime, you'd help him warm up, too.

Hiccup shivered, almost imperceptibly, as your lips found his neck for a moment. Indulgently, you nibbled once, playfully, and his breath hitched. But he didn't let you continue much longer, and soon you were back to kissing him where he wanted you most. This was exactly how he liked it best; slow and steady, with no rush to completion.

A short while later: you almost missed his words, soft as they were. You felt his calloused fingertips tracing patterns on your back all the while.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, close enough that you could almost feel his lips shaping the syllables.

You whispered a quiet affirmative.

The cool air was fresh on your skin, goosebumps temporarily rippling across the newly-bare areas, but he soothed them. A kiss on your shoulder, your collarbone, just above your chest area, and then — your breath escaped in a shudder as his lips found one of your nipples, a hot contrast to the otherwise crisp temperature. After a cheeky, parting nip, he gave the other the same attention. His eyes slid shut after you let out a small, shaky sigh.

Eventually, you helped him out of his tunic as well, covering the same ground as he had with your lips. His freckles weren't just limited to his face — they were all over his body, pretty much; some on his lean torso, some on his arms, others on his thighs, and even one or two on certain other areas — but you'd get to that later.

He twitched slightly when you thumbed over his bony hips, his hand resting somewhere between the back and top of your head as you kissed a trail from one shoulder, down to just above his waistband, and then back to the other shoulder. Similarly to the map he was making of the world outside Berk, you enjoyed plotting out the routes between the occasional scar or mole. One jagged mark near his navel, from a bad fall into a thornbush. A couple of assorted scratches here and there from more recent events. You paid attention to each and every one.

You looked at him, from where you rested near his chest, your own chest resting on his flat abdomen. He met your gaze — green eyes filled with nothing except pure adoration.

When you moved upwards, kissing him again, he reciprocated eagerly.

It wasn't long until your previously unhurried kisses grew heated. Hot. Heavy. You felt your face warm as you became aware of your desire — having started out subtle, only a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, but now nearly throbbing, tipping into desperation —

—it seemed he felt the same, as he returned what you were giving him enthusiastically. Even though you were pressed up against him again, his hands returning to your chest before sliding down to grip your waist — it wasn't enough, you were determined to take every low moan and high gasp he released—

Hiccup suddenly broke the kiss, nearly panting

You looked at him quizzically, after instinctively chasing his lips — you were about to ask if he was alright, but he spoke first.

"Can we— " Catching his breath, he quickly continued. "—switch? Positions, I mean."

"Oh." It only took you a millisecond to understand what he wanted.

You smiled. "Oh. Sure."

Rolling off of him, it was your turn to lay back. He helped you shimmy out of your trousers — as he slid them down your legs, he paused to press a kiss just above your knee — before tossing your pants on the floor, where they joined the other abandoned clothes. You didn't care much for wrinkles at a time like this. He never cared for wrinkles, period.

A pillow, most likely homemade, was slid underneath your hips. Hiccup had always liked every part of you, you were well aware of it. However, he seemed to enjoy your thighs the most; he especially enjoyed being between them.

His thumbs found your inner thighs, gently drawing them apart as he made himself comfortable on his stomach.

"Okay?" As he glanced up at you, you could pick out his eyelashes once again.

"Yeah," you breathed.

At the first touch of his lips, close to where you wanted them most, you shivered.

He was patient again, drawing nearer and nearer to your sex — he wasn't the type to leave marks but also wasn't completely adverse to a little nipping. Nonetheless, he was gentle all the while, soothing whichever places he graced with his teeth with more open-mouthed kisses.

You were tense with anticipation by the time he finally, finally licked a broad stripe up your cunt.

Vividly, you still remembered the first time he'd eaten you out. What he completely lacked in experience, he made up for with sheer enthusiasm and a nearly all-consuming need to please — now, he still possessed that same enthusiasm, but instead of clumsy kisses and clueless, unskilled lapping, he knew exactly what to do. Hands reaching to cup at the backs of your thighs, he let out a muffled, quiet groan that sent wonderful vibrations dancing up your spine.

He kept up a steady, firm rhythm, eyes fluttering shut again as he busied himself with his task at hand — his tongue working at your folds, flicking up to tease your clit, delving inside your cunt — you were growing wetter by the passing minute. He practically worshiped you, and you were a grateful recipient, a grateful deity to a devout follower.

Your legs trembled as you gradually approached the peak you needed so much. When his lips closed around your sensitive apex and sucked, gently — your hips instinctively twitched upwards, and you couldn't help the sound that tumbled from your mouth in response.

One calloused finger easily slipped inside you, immediately crooking upwards towards your stomach, searching. It didn't take long for you to adjust, and after your whispered pleas, he added another, both massaging at the spot that made you sigh and gasp. All the while, he lavished attention on your clit with his tongue, occasionally letting out soft, nearly inaudible moans of his own.

Even though you couldn't quite see it from your position, his hips shifted against the mattress, seeking just enough relief to take his mind off of his own arousal. But the other, rather large percentage of his attention was still focused on pleasing you — on making you come, trembling, onto his tongue as you had many times before.

Speaking of time — you were unaware of just how much of it passed, but eventually, you felt the familiar coil tightening, warmth pooling low in your abdomen. He must've known, too, because that was precisely when he began doubling his efforts; his fingers prodding insistently in a come hither motion, while he pressed sloppy kisses to your clit, thumbing over the nub with the same already-occupied hand.

Your back arched upwards, towards his mouth. Flushed and quivering, you nearly choked on a gasp. "Hic—"

That was the most warning you could give, before you clenched down on his fingers, hips jerking as you came. Letting out a series of short, nearly wanton exclamations, you let your head sink back further into the pillows as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You saw stars for a split second, winking brightly behind your eyelids.

He kept working at you until the aftershocks had faded, fingers sliding out of you with an almost filthy wet noise.

You were still panting, face hot, as he absentmindedly popped them into his mouth, tongue swirling around his digits — eyes already heavy-lidded, they shut for a moment at your taste. After you returned to Earth, you drew him in for a kiss, not minding the slight tanginess. If anything, it made you want him more.

Upon glancing downward, you could easily see the distinct evidence of Hiccup's desire, straining at his pants.

His breath escaped in a hiss when you leisurely palmed him.

Soon, you'd switched positions again, and you hovered just above his needy cock as he shifted back to lean on the headboard.

You were still slick and loose from earlier, so with only a little bit of a stretch, you sank down on him, taking him inside your still-sensitive cunt; the sensations almost bordering on too much, but perfectly so. His face screwed up once he was fully hilted in your heat, and he paused to adjust himself, breath escaping in quick, high-pitched pants. It wasn't anything new — he was always already beyond worked up after eating you out.

"Good?" You asked, after giving him a few seconds.

"Yeahyeah yeah," he replied in a single breath, hands squeezing your hips, careful not to grip too tight — "gods , you're warm, mmh— "

Slowly, you rocked. His grip tightened the tiniest bit. He didn't push you to go faster at all, or harder, letting you ride him at your own pace — but this wasn't for your pleasure. It was your turn to give and his to take. And so, you gave, brushing over his nipples and biting at the spots that always made him lose control. More and more moans fell from his lips, growing in volume and pitch —

He was begging, quietly, breathlessly. You captured his mouth again, biting his bottom lip, making him squirm. His cock twitched inside you, filling you up just right, as if his body was shaped by divine hands to perfectly fit yours —

You watched, reverently, when he finally reached his own ecstasy — you'd pulled him out, given him a couple of firm pumps — his voice cracked on a final, unrestrained whine as his release splattered across his stomach, thick and warm on your palm. It didn't matter how many times you'd witnessed him come — each time, he looked beautiful.

His breath slowed, the dazedness fading from his expression. His hands loosened on your hips before he finally looked up at you, still considerably flushed.

"That … " He swallowed. "Was that, uh … Fine?"

You almost broke into a fit of giggles, but prevented it before it could happen by kissing him instead. Hiccup was perhaps a bit clumsy, but you didn't mind in the slightest. When you parted, you lingered — neither wanting to move just yet, feeling languid in the afterglow.

"Yes, it was fine," you echoed. His nose wrinkled at your teasing tone, but he couldn't suppress his lopsided smile. A quick peck on your cheek, and then he was back to leaning on the pillows.

"I'm glad it was fine."

The sensation of cooling ejaculate was only bearable for a short amount of time, so eventually you did move to clean up. The wet towel was a little cold on your skin, and he thought so too, but it was all in the service of somewhat-proper hygiene.

Thankfully, the cold failed to slip through the combination of your blankets and Hiccup — which was and had always been a very effective combination.

You slipped into a comfortable slumber like that — both cozy and sated. He wasn't tense in the slightest as he held you, his chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat against your bare back.

He always fell asleep before you.

You hoped his dreams consisted of lovely things, always.

#hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock iii x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock x reader #how to train your dragon x reader #how to train your dragon imagines

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morganbritton132 · 8 months

Text

Eddie posts a TikTok from a really nice hotel room. It’s very clear that he’s just woken up and also, that he’s hungover as shit.

Actually, he might still be drunk when he says, “You know what the most interesting thing about being married to a sleepwalker is?”

He heaves himself up into a seated position and yeah, judging by the way the world tilted. He’s still drunk. Fun.

He flips the camera around to show Steve asleep on his stomach on the other side of the bed. He’s laid out on top of the covers, sleeping like the dead. Eddie runs his hand into Steve’s hair like, “Look at this beautiful man.”

“Look at him,” Eddie hums, panning the camera from Steve’s messy hair down his bare back, passed his underwear and down his legs to his shoes.

Eddie zooms in on Steve’s white Nikes like, “Why is he wearing shoes??? Where did he go?”

There’s genuine stress in Eddie’s voice but it’s gone a second later when he points to a freckle on Steve’s back and says, “This one is my third favorite.”

#Steve’s feet are hanging off the end of the bed #he’s not one of those heathens that put their shoes on furniture #Eddie first two favorite freckles are the two on his neck that look like a vampire bite #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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goldsbitch · 2 months

Text

Just don't talk------

-actually, maybe don't stop.

p7 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Excuse me, feelings coming through.

Some people were not destined to be friends. Or coworkers or anything like that. The vibes were just not there.

It was a regular FIA briefing. For everyone else in the room it was a rather dull part of their duties, but unskippable. For Y/N it was a true test of will, getting seated right behind Lando. She could not remember a single thing from that meeting. Because how was she supposed to, when Lando's neck and perfectly cut hair were right in front of her. She remembered kissing the back of his neck - and she was suppose to just sit and listen to some regulation changes? When his freckles were just screaming "trace us with you finger, please". The worst thing was when he brushed his hair with his hand or scratched himself. Somehow, he seemed to be doing only that.

Lando was more than aware of the fact she was sitting behind him. It made him more nervous than usual, because he felt zero control over what is happening with her. They hadn't spoken since the gala, no matter how much he wanted to untagle that, he couldn't find the right words or courage for that matter, to try and talk to her. Questions were occupying his mind the whole meeting. Was she aware of him? Watching him perhaps? Wait a minute - was he sitting in some weird position? Is this how people usually sit?

Oscar was sitting next to Lando and noticed how much more weirdly nervous he was getting this afternoon. He quickly exchanged welcoming looks with Y/N, her also being weird ever since their outburst that one evening. Oscar and Lando were getting closer than they had before, so when Oscar connected two and two together, Lando's erratic behavior slowly starting to make sense. He decided to test the waters.

"Hey man," he whispered to Lando loudly enough for Y/N to hear. "That girl there is staring at you like crazy," he said, pointing to some random employee, who definitely was not staring at Lando, but that was not the point there. "What do you think? She looks fun." Lando nearly fell of a chair when he heard him. These kind of comments were highly unusual from Oscar. "What?" he asked, hoping he misunderstood him. This kind of a sentence usually fell out of Daniel's mouth. "Mate, she's been looking at you all this meeting. I think you have a chance."

Of course Y/N heard them. And yes, she did stop breathing for a moment. What was Oscar on about? Why was he doing that? And how the fuck is Lando going to react. He knew Y/N heard them. Of course she must have. His mind was panicking back and forth, trying to come up with an answer that would shut up Oscar. What also freaked him out was that he realized he cared about what Y/N thinks. Maybe Oscar was right, maybe he needed a casual easy hook up. Something less complicated. But, he decided not to burn down the whole house this time using his words only. Neutral. Keeping it open. "Bro, who isn't looking at me," he said and ironically squeezed his bicep. Y/N was finally able let her breath out. Not the worst answer he could have said. Still, she did not need to hear to hear the rest of their talk. In fact, she needed to get out. Focusing on the FIA announcement was not enough, so she politely excused herself and went to the bathroom. Oscar saw that and smiled. His instinct was right. He stopped with his questions and Lando shot him a weird questioning look once Y/N was gone. "So how long is this going on?" Oscar shot at him once again. Lando's eyes went full wide. "Could you stop whatever you're doing, man?" he urged and looked over to the exit, to see if Y/N was still in sight. When he didn't see her, he turned back and opted for fully ignoring Oscar's face filled with amusement.

Lando was not having the best of days. High pressure from the team, since they'd manage to finally get the car into decent state and it was his time to shine and start bringing poles and podiums. Just like Oscar has. But Lando was somehow out of tune with himself - he was not bad, not good, just somehow mediocre. His ego not handling well that his younger teammate having seemingly no issues. It gave him back flashbacks to when he was the young shot happy go lucky star of the team. Now he was becoming the older one with the weight of the pressure bigger than ever.

Qualifying came after few strange practice sessions. But, Lando was picking his spirits up and not letting his head play into it.

He was going to have an absolute blast of a quali. He needed that.

Y/N's team was in their struggle era. Nothing to be done about it, not even her teammate was able to perform. So for her, it was about showing up, doing her job and then let help her team analyse where they could improve. But no one expected them to be the star of this Grand Prix. Having nobody expect anything from you is a different kind of pressure for a F1 driver.

The smell of burning rubber and the loud noise of the paddock was hitting Lando harder that usually. Normally, he would find comfort in the smell of a burnt tire, but this time it was just too much. Lots of people roaming around the McLaren paddock and he was in no mood for that. Headphones and ignore button was his escape strategy. He politely rejected few journalists as he walked away from the driver's parade, quickly shooting few looks towards Y/N who had an aura or a happy-go-lucky fun person today. Lando ignored the next journalist who tried to stop him.

It's impossible to follow other driver's quali when you're also driving. So Y/N found out only at the end that Lando, who passed by on the track in Q2 with a flying speed, was facing the possibility of having his time deleted due to track limits. Her heart sank a little lower than when she was not able to even get to Q3. Somehow, she was ready to be internally proud of him and his improvement. Seeing him, sitting on the platform with the fastest car of the session, watching his P2 getting slashed was brutal. She wanted to slap George, who visibly cheered when this meant he got pushed into Lando's spot.

Interviews were a great thing when one was to be happy and cheerful, it was a great way how to share enthusiasm. But when one had a failure on the back, answering questions without having a moment to process was just pure sadism. At least this was how Lando felt, but surely others must have shared this as well. He knew his duties, so he paraded himself from one journalist to another, like on some strange carousel. He was so lost in his world that he completely missed Y/N, who was doing each interview after him, hearing his self-deprecating answers getting worse and worse with each interview. She had to fight the urge to simply hug him in front of all the people.

There was no place without prying eyes in an F1 paddock. Y/N hoped she would manage to get to the McLaren hospitality without being seen by any major news outlets. And if so, fuck it. She texted Oscar to help her get in through the back door and slip in without causing a scene. He did just that.

"He's in his driver room," he simply stated when she entered.

"Thanks, Oscar. Can you take me there? Is there anyone in?"

"I highly doubt that. He told everyone to not so kindly fuck off."

"Well, I guess I'll join them soon," she sighed, knowing that stubborn Lando was a no go Lando. That stupid boy, always pushing everyone away.

"Again, highly doubt that," Oscar replied without a cell in his body doubting this. She just smiled and they shared a knowing look. Once she'd be ready, there was a long list of questions she had for Oscar. He just wanted to help his clueless friends.

When they reached the driver's room door, she started doubting her decision. Oscar saw that and knocked loudly instead of her.

"Please leave me alone, I've said it few times now," came from behind the door by a distressed driver. Oscar shot Y/N a serious look, pushing her into speaking.

"Lando?" she simply asked, not knowing what to say.

"Y/N?" he replied with a much softer tone that previous sentence.

"Can I please come in?" she asked in the most honest tone Oscar had ever heard her speak in.

The door clicked and opened slightly. Oscar saw this as his cue to leave and Y/N entered the room.

When she came in, Lando was facing her with his back, still in his driver suit and sipping on his energy drink. She gulped, sensing the tension in the room. They were both equally bad at talking. Was this just going to cause more problems again?

He felt down, really down. The only reason why he let her in was that there was no one else to go to. A slight glimmer of hope that she might make him feel understood.

"I'm sorry your lap got deleted. I watched in on a replay, pretty badass," she said with the same soft tone as before. Her voice was music to his ears, but the words she said stung like a bee. Pity was not something Lando sought after.

"Badass maybe, stupid definitely," he replied, playing his mistakes over and over.

"That's just stupid. Stop blaming yourself all the time."

He turned around to face her. "So should I just blame the pit crew? Or the engineers? No, I'm the only one who fucked up. The one who let the team down."

His attitude was starting to really annoy her. "Lando, shut the fuck up. Stop with this self hatred."

"This is what losers say."

"Ok. Let's play a game. Imagine I did what you did today. Tell me the things you're saying yourself in your head. Say them outloud." He was taken back by her sudden shift of mood, not knowing what king of a game she was playing this time.

"No."

"Say it. I'm not leaving." She paused, awaiting his reaction. Nothing came, so she pushed more. "Come on."

He took a deep breath. Fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?

"You're stupid for risking too much. You knew that the track it tricky..." he stopped himself abruptly. He could not bare saying the rest of his speech to her lovely innocent face. "No, I can't. You haven't made the mistakes. I have. So fuck this shit."

She took another deep breath in. Knowing that every word she chose mattered. "My point is - you would not say these things to someone else. because you know that it just does not help. It's toxic and only gets you stuck. Owning up your mistakes does not equal beating yourself up for them. I saw your engineer on the hallway. That's not a face of someone who blames you the same way you do yourself."

He finally let her in. "So many hours of people's lives invested in that. The people working, the fans traveling and spending money on watching me fail like a school boy. What if I'm just not enough?"

It was strange how much she was able to relate to that feeling. "If you'll start believing these thoughts, you will not be. But there is so many smart people who believe in you. Not because they like you or because they are a fan. Because they look at the graphs and see it. Black on white."

"Do you believe in me?" he heard himself slipping through his lips. All walls were down at the moment. The raw look in his eyes was something Y/N would remember forever.

There was no way she could answer this in a negative matter. "I'm scared of you on the track," she laughed. "In the best way possible. When you flew beside me today, I felt....I dunno. I guess I felt proud."

Silence fell over the two very tired and exhausted souls. Maybe that's why they were able to let their guards down. In that moment, Lando regretted every bad word he ever said to her. She stood there, in the most human way he ever saw her. Intoxicating kindness.

"Can I hug you?"

"Yes."

And so he embraced her, with all that he had been holding back these past days, letting go of all the tension, replaying the words she just said to him. The smell of her hair hitting him hard. Her sore post-race body crumbling into his.

part 8

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@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak

finally back at it! more coming - thanks for the support!!!

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jonathanbiers · 2 years

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thinkin about steve who used to be a total jock, basketball team, swim team etc but after graduating he wasn’t doing sports anymore and after lovers lake he can’t get in the water without having a panic attack (probably internalized because he feels like he has to be the one who’s Okay™️ all the time) so over time after the world is decidedly not ending anymore he goes a lil soft. maybe he has a lil tummy™️ and that along with the scars makes him pretty self conscious because he’s comparing himself to what he used to be, all smooth and unscarred skin and in good shape.

he stops even trying to go on dates because he can’t relate to any of the pretty airhead girls in hawkins and they certainly wouldn’t be able to understand why he can’t look at his own pool or why he starts shaking when the lights flicker a little bit, and he also knows they would have questions he can’t answer about his scars so there’s no point. might as well resign himself to being alone, at least he’s surrounded by platonic love and that’s enough right?

of course, unbeknownst to steve he and eddie have pretty much been circling each other like courting swans, doing things steve doesn’t even think twice about (like holding hands or running their fingers through the other’s hair or cuddling up to each other during movie night or sleeping on each other during movie night or the fact that they have a movie night with just the two of them at all) because it feels natural, he does those things with robin and it’s totally Capital P Platonic™️ until with eddie it ISN’T and suddenly things are added to that list like kissing and backhugs and hickies and oh shit he and eddie are kind of a thing now??? dating unofficially? boyfriends?

but steve is all too aware that he’s not the jock they tease him about being anymore and maybe gets in his head about the way he “should” look (it’s my headcanon personally that steve was probably a chubby kid or something which is normal but his parents are toxic and constantly bullied him about it until he got into sports and lost the fluff) so he’s worried about what eddie will think and that he won’t be attracted to him so he puts off doing anything past the aforementioned list of things and they probably don’t discuss it outright but eddie picks up on the hesitation and (thinking it’s because steve isn’t comfortable with his sexuality yet) is SO reassuring that they can wait until steve is ready to do anything and it’s at his own pace and he won’t ever pressure him into anything

but the thing is steve IS ready and he wants so bad he’s just gone down this whole spiral of self consciousness that one night when they’ve gone a little past the usual making out that they’re used to and they’re both breathing hard and a little more than desperate for each other, steve finally starts to shed his clothes in front of eddie and yeah maybe the dim lighting helps a little bit but he’s still so nervous that eddie will take one look at him and not be attracted to him at all, or laugh or even be disgusted by him but eddie is just in awe because to him, steve is perfect no matter what he looks like but here’s the kicker: eddie is totally into dad bods.

so here we’ve got steve damn near chewing the skin off his lips in anxiety and eddie is just feeling like a kid on christmas or some shit because between the chest hair and the lil tummy™️ and the constellations of moles and freckles and the scars that he has to match there isn’t a single thing about steve that eddie doesn’t love. and you best believe he tells him out loud immediately, multiple times, between kisses and bites and squeezes that he’s beautiful and perfect and so fucking sexy, he tells him until steve is smiling instead of anxious and he’s not biting his lip out of worry anymore that’s for damn sure

#is this nsfw? i don’t know #*rattling the bars of my enclosure* GIVE ME DAD BOD STEVE NOW #stranger things #steveddie #steddie headcanons #steddie hcs #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie

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agi-ppangx · 9 months

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💭summer romance (100 followers special)

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you panicked as soon as you spilled your soda on a random guy in front of you. he only smiled at you, his soft gaze not leaving you for a moment.

you decided to go on vacation with your friends to clear your mind and relax before another year of college. the exams had taken a toll on you, making you a walking ball of stress and after they were finally done you felt as if a huge weight was taken from your chest. you’d worked hard and you deserved some peace of mind now, basking in the presence of the ocean and your friends.

but to be honest, since everyone brought their significant other with them except you, after a few days you kind of started feeling excluded from the group, not exactly knowing what to do with yourself. everyone was going on dates or romantic walks along the shore and then there were you - sleeping until midday and visiting local shops with handmade goods. even though you were happy for your friends, you were also kind of jealous, but who wouldn’t be in your situation? that’s why you tried to enjoy your vacation nonetheless and not think about your chronic loneliness.

“shit, i feel so bad, i’m really sorry. is there anything i can do for you? to compensate for the t-shirt,” you babbled, looking as his white shirt was now stained with your grape soda. you took a moment to examine his features - his blonde hair was slightly combed back and his freckled cheeks were tinted with pink. he looked as if he was heading to the hotel pool. “it’s okay, some detergent should cope with this stain just fine,” he grinned, running his hand through his hair. you still tried to figure out how to apologise to him. “wait, how about we go to the bar later?” he frowned, quite lost in your sudden question. “as an apology of course. my treat,” you added and his features softened. “sure, why not?” “really? oh, that’s wonderful! let’s meet up at the hotel reception at 8, okay?” he nodded at your words, clearly amused by your slightly chaotic energy, but he didn’t mind at all. “oh, i’m yn by the way,” you said after a moment of silence, smiling awkwardly. “i’m felix.”

and that’s how you ended up with felix in a local bar, sipping your drinks and talking about your lives. It amazed you, how easily it was for you to talk to him. you found out he has two sisters and he used to live in sydney, just like you. he asked you about your major at uni and your plans for the future. and you felt good throughout the whole evening - you two even danced a little to the music playing through the speakers. felix and you laughed a lot and even though you thought your meeting would be shorter since you didn’t know each other, you felt so comfortable with him, his presence was relaxing in its own way. you two were sitting really close to each other, your head was resting on his shoulder and even though it was getting close to midnight, you didn’t want to leave his side, feeling safe with him. you missed the moment when you started to get sleepy thanks to the alcohol you’d drunk.

you didn’t remember the rest of the evening, including getting to the hotel and falling asleep in felix’ bed. you woke up with a slight hangover, felix was already up, sitting in a hammock on his balcony. you immediately got up and approached him panicked. “hi- whoa, you okay?” he asked when he saw your worried face. “did… did anything happen?” you whispered. would you mind? no, but at least you wanted to be aware if something happened. felix giggled at that. “everything is fine, i slept here,” he pointed at the hammock. you exhaled loudly, the weight from your chest gone. “i’m sorry, i know i should’ve taken you to your room but you insisted you wanted to be with me and you nearly cried and-” “please, stop, it’s embarrassing,” you interrupted him, hiding your face in your hands. he only laughed at that and took your hand in his. felix guided you to sit next to him in the hammock and you compiled, immediately sinking into his open arms. he silently started running his fingers through your hair and you suddenly thought that your life could be like this forever. maybe with him by your side. “hey, you wanna go for a walk? I heard the views are even better outside the town,” felix suggested after a while and you agreed without hesitation.

that’s how your vacation went, with felix by your side you explored the island, shared ice cream at 5 in the morning at the beach and simply basked in each other’s company. the whole two weeks were filled with hugs, soft, innocent touches and hushed conversations at night. “i feel like i’ve known you my whole life,” you confessed on your last evening with felix, when you decided to head downtown for some kind of festival. there were plenty of sellers with different goods, from jewellery to delicious homemade buns with honey. you were wandering slowly through the streets, hand in hand, and even though you should be relishing in felix’ presence you were haunted by the thought of leaving the island instead. felix knew you were going home the next day, but he didn’t want to talk or even think about it, deciding to celebrate the past two weeks with you instead. “look, they sell those jelly things. you want some?” felix snapped you out of your reverie. you looked at him, confused at first, but then you remembered you wanted to try the local snack from the island and you nodded, smiling faintly.

“do you not like them?” felix asked you some time later. you were sitting on a bench, the sound of waves hitting the shore in the background. you let out a small “hmm?”, still chewing on the jelly. “i'm just sad that i’m leaving you tomorrow,” you mumbled and felix sighed at that. “maybe i should just stuff you in my suitcase and take you home with me…” felix chuckled at that, hugging you. “i’d like that.” you melted into his arms with a miserable expression and didn’t say anything more. “hey, i have an idea, come on,” felix suddenly broke the silence between you and took your hand in his. he led you to one of the stalls with jewellery you had passed before. he pointed to two rings with little suns engraved in them. “do you like them?” he asked you and you nodded slightly. without hesitation felix bought the rings and led you to the same bench you had left minutes ago. you sat and waited for him to do the same so you could hug him again, but instead he kneeled in front of you with one of the rings in his hand. before he said anything he giggled slightly at your frightened expression, but then he spoke. “let it be our promise, to not forget each other. what do you say, angel?” you felt the tears fill your eyes and you immediately fell into his arms, ugly sobs leaving your body. you were nodding frantically, i love you's leaving your mouth over and over. after some time you moved away from him a bit and observed as felix put the ring on your finger. then you took the second one from him and did the same thing, giggling. felix placed a soft kiss on your forehead and gently cradled your face in his hands, as if you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world. god, you were going to miss him.

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids imagines #skz comfort #stray kids scenarios #stray kids comfort #lee felix #lee felix skz #lee felix soft thoughts #lee felix soft hours #lee felix comfort #lee felix fluff #skz felix #stray kids felix

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rotting-pulse · 10 months

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“You’re gay..?”

synopsis: An evening binge of horror brings you and your best friend Michael closer than you thought, unlocking things you both had long shoved down, but perhaps opening a world of new possibilities.

tw: coming out, mentions of homophobia, underage drinking and sex jokes (scandalous i know)

a/n: tried to keep this as accurate to the time period as possible (late 80s) but i know Army of Darkness came out in the 90s. I don’t really care though and i don’t think y’all are expecting perfect details in your fnaf fanfiction.

fem aligned please dni, this is a mlm fic

The bell ringing snapped you out of your dream like state. Finally, the end of the day and the end of the week for that matter. Throwing your bag over your shoulder and pulling on the headphones connected to your walkman you made your way out of the school.

As you walked down the halls and out the front door you couldn’t help but notice the familiar sight of a curly haired boy at the entrance. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, then he saw you. He smiled and waved you over. You pulled down the headphones around your head, trying to hide the growing smile on your face. Michael Afton was friend of yours, just that though. No matter how much you two teased each other, at the end of the day you were just friends. Nothing more.

His voice broke through the chatter of other students, looking over at you and asking, "Hey, you ready for that sleepover?"

Right. You were in such a rush to get home you’d nearly forgotten that you had invited him over. You chuckled though at his question. “Duh. I rented out Evil Dead and Army of Darkness already. Also my family’s gone all this weekend so we’ll have the house to ourselves… you’re free to come over whenever.”

Your parents had told you this morning that they needed to go meet up with some relatives out of town, collecting some documents or something, you weren’t exactly paying attention. They seemed fine with Michael still coming over however, at this point you two had known each other for so long that he was practically family. He always preferred coming over to your place too, he never elaborated too heavily on why but from what you knew his dad was a massive prick. You two had your system, and it worked. A perfect friendship…

His eyes seemed to light up at your words, excitement glittering in their soft blue hue. His kind smile grew even more, the freckled skin around his face crinkling at the strain. ‘God you need to stop staring at his face, you freak.’ The thought had weaseled it’s way in, echoing in your brain like a poltergeist whispering it in. Your gaze flickered to the ground as his smiled once more.

“Shit, that sounds awesome! I’ll swing by in a little bit, just need to grab some stuff from home. Anything I should bring?”

You thought for a moment and shook your head, trying to remain casual. “Nothing I can think of, I’m pretty sure I have everything there already.”

Michael’s smile seemed permanently etched onto his face as he talked to you, beaming like the sun’s rays. "Alright then, I'll trust your judgment. See you soon." He winks before turning to walk away, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder.

You sighed and walked in the opposite direction, pulling on your headphones again and focusing on the music as you start your walk home. Any time your mind would wander it would always lead back to Michael. You kept trying to shake it off but it clung to you like a plague that had no cure. You didn’t feel this way about any of your other friends, so why Michael? What made him so special that he seemed to be in your every waking thought? Why did it have to be a guy..?

Before you knew it you were at your doorstep and using the key tucked under the welcome mat to unlock the door and let yourself in. You kicked your boots off at the door and trudged you way inside, throwing your bag down in your room. Walking back out into the living room you sighed and tided up a bit, putting out some snacks and making things look presentable. You got so lost in your thoughts that barely noticed that the doorbell rang, quickly hopping up from your seat you went to open it, welcoming Michael into the house like you had done millions of times before. He took his shoes off and left them near yours by the doorway, going and making himself comfortable in the living room.

He crashed down onto the sofa looking around excitedly. "You've really got everything covered here. This is gonna be epic."

You chuckled and nodded in response, running into the kitchen and opening the fridge to reveal the six pack of beer you had stashed away earlier. Quickly returning back to the living room you hold it up, proudly beaming, “Also, look what I managed to snag us.”

Michael's eyes light up with excitement as he sees the beer. "Oh, you sneaky little devil. That's perfect!" He takes the beer from you and sets it down on the coffee table. "How’d you even manage to get this?" He smirks at you mischievously.

You open one of the bottles and take a large swig of it, sarcastically retorting. “I have my ways. Besides, something told me getting drunk while watching gorey zombie movies would be a great idea.”

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah well, it feels in line with all our other great ideas.”

“What, like when we went to the scrap yard and you decided you could totally just pick up a possum like it was nothing?” You shoot back, a teasing smile on your face as you put in the VHS and grab the remote.

He left out a mock gasp, playfully hitting your shoulder when you sat down on the couch next to him. “In my defense we were in middle school,” he jeered.

You rolled your eyes in response. “Even in middle school I knew not to grab a feral animal. You’re lucky you didn’t get rabies.”

He huffs and settles back on the couch, leaning comfortably against the armrest. "So tell me, have you ever seen Evil Dead before? It's a cult favorite for a reason."

“I’ve seen it more times than I can count. It’s one of my favorites, I mean Bruce Campbell does such a great job as Ash,” You respond. A strange, but familiar sensation creeps into you, a warmth spreading through you chest as he talks. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, leaning on the other end of the sofa. Something about seeing him so comfortable, the golden light of the sun set reflecting off his face… it made you feel flushed like you had never felt before. You lock your eyes on the TV, trying to hide your face behind your hair.

Michael chuckles softly as he listens to you speak. His laugh echos through your head as if you were trying to savor the sound of them. "I bet you're gonna love Army of Darkness. It's one of my personal favorites." He says with a hint of excitement in his voice.

You laugh a bit, taking another sip of the beer in your hand. “Oh yeah? What, the chainsaw hand turn you on or something?” You tease sarcastically.

Michael's cheeks flush red at your comment, but he doesn't let it show. Instead, he gives you an exaggerated wink and a cocky grin. "Well, now that you mention it..."

You let out a noise of mock scandal, dramatically clutching onto your chest for dramatic effect.

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly at your response. "I don't know why you're so surprised. After all, we are men, aren't we?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head at his sarcastic retort. “I guess I just don’t get it,” you laugh. You finish off the bottle of alcohol, before placing it on the coffee table and murmuring, “Then again, I don’t understand a lot of the stuff guys our age are into.”

Michael chuckles and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks at you intently, his eyes sparkling with interest. "What do you mean by that?" He asks, his tone seemingly full of genuine curiosity rather than mockery or ridicule.

I glance over at him, pulling my knees up to my chest and thinking out a response. Did you really want to tell him? Tell him that you’re different than everyone else in your friend group? Your voice felt caught in your throat as you spoke, it felt like letting poison into your body, like you were confessing to something wicked and truly evil. “I guess it’s just… I hear what you and the other guys talk about, like the girls at school and whatever. And I just don’t… feel the same way you do? I don’t know how to describe it, but… I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way.”

Michael’s eyes grow wide in surprise, and he seems taken aback by your honesty. He lets out a small laugh and shakes his head, smiling warmly at you. God that smile, it could seem to solve any problems you had. Making you feel instantly at ease, like it was magic or something.

"Well, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he says with a slight chuckle. Then he sighs and leans back against the couch, looking thoughtful. "But I think you're being too hard on yourself. I think everyone feels that way sometimes."

You shake your head and follow his lead by leaning back, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t worry, you’ve never made me uncomfortable…” Far from it, it seemed as if he was the only friend you could really be yourself around, not have to worry how other will perceive you. When it was just the two of you, it felt like you were in your own little world where the only thing that mattered was the other person there with you. “It’s… It’s nice getting this off my chest. Cause like, I’m sure I’ll feel that way someday, but with my past girlfriends and whatnot, I just… haven’t felt it. I haven’t felt that spark… not with a girl…” The last part seemed to fall out of your mouth against your will. Your brain seemed to hear those words and go into overdrive, chastising you for letting that be spoken, demeaning you for not keeping that locked away like you had this entire time.

Michael's brow furrows in confusion, his expression growing more serious. He stares at you for a moment before speaking. "Wait, you've never been attracted to a girl? Or you've never had any romantic feelings towards a girl?" He asks, his tone sounding more concerned than anything else.

It felt as if a light went off in your brain, everything clicking into place as it dawned on you. The sinking feeling of dread attacking next as all you can do in answer, “…Both. I’ve never been attracted to girls, nor have I been interested in them romantically…”

Michael’s jaw drops open slightly, his eyes widening in shock. He sits up straight, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O.’ He stares at you for several moments before speaking, his voice filled with disbelief. "Wow. Really?"

“Michael…” you pause, trying to formulate the sentence in your head. “I think… the way I’m supposed to feel about girls, is how I feel about guys,” you implied, hoping he’d get the message you were trying to convey.

Michael’s eyes widen further still, and he looks absolutely stunned. He takes a few deep breaths, and then speaks in a quiet, shaky voice. "Are you… gay?" He asks hesitantly, looking at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. His voice sounds incredibly unsure of himself, and he looks extremely nervously.

You can’t meet his gaze, to nervous to see the way he’s looking at you. You didn’t want to say the word, you didn’t know if you could say the word. Your whole body seems to tremble as you nod a bit, your voice shaking as you whisper out, “Y-Yeah… I think I am…”

Michael’s eyes go wide once more, and he looks completely floored. He stares at you for a while longer, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He seems unable to believe what he’s hearing, and he keeps repeating, “You’re gay?!” over and over again.

It feels as if suddenly the implications of what you said came crashing down around you. You grab onto his shoulders, finally meeting his gaze as you plea, “Y-You can’t tell anyone. The whole school already think I’m a queer, I don’t need their suspicions getting confirmed. And with the way this town is, the way my parents are… if anyone else knows I’m as good as dead…”

Michael’s eyes widen even further, and he looks absolutely horrified. He quickly stands up from the couch, and pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close to his chest. He whispers into your ear, “It’s okay. Nobody will find out. Not from me, not from anyone.”

You sigh a bit, feeling his arms wrap around. The tension melting away with each deep breath you took until you could finally manage to whisper out, “…thanks.”

Michael holds you close, his hands running through your hair and rubbing your back. He lets out a small laugh, and he begins to rock you back and forth slowly. He hums quietly, a small smile playing across his lips. He leans down, kissing the top of your head. He looks over at you, and his smile grows wider. "You're welcome."

Your brains feels as if it freezes from the sudden intimacy of the moment. You think for a moment, your gaze flickering down to the floor before looking back at him. Was this really how friends responded to situations like this? By holding each other like the were an old married couple?

You hesitantly reach a hand up to brush some of his hair out of his face, stealing a glance at his lips only to look back up at him. He looked heavenly in this light, his soft, sky blue eyes were warm, but hiding something behind them. He was always good at masking what he was thinking, you could guess as to why…

Michael blinks a few times, and he stares back at you with a smile. His eyes widen when you touch his hickory colored hair, and he lets out a soft laugh. He closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of your fingers in his hair. When you look back up at him, he opens his eyes, and they twinkle with mirth. He leans closer, and he presses his lips to yours. He pulls back after a few seconds, and he looks at you with a grin. He runs his thumb along your cheek, and he speaks in a low voice. "You're amazing."

You pause, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being entirely wrapped up in him. It felt as though that little world the two of you had was shrinking in, pushing you together. You slowly raise your both of your hands to grab onto the sides of his face, pulling him in gently for another kiss. It’s a little hesitant but still filled with so much emotion, only breaking away when the lack of oxygen gets to you. If it had been up to you, the two of you would’ve stood there, kissing for an eternity. But as you pull back, gazing up at him, you can’t help but mutter, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that…”

Michael smiles widely, and he reaches up to cup your face in both of his hands. He leans forward, and he presses his lips to yours once more. He breaks away after a minute or two, and he looks up at you with a soft smile. He runs his hand through your hair again, and he speaks in a low voice. "I think I might love you."

“I…” you hold back a chuckle, leaning into his touch with a warm smile, “I think I might love you too…”

#michael afton #micheal afton #michael afton x reader #micheal afton x reader #micheal afton x male reader #michael afton x male reader #michael afton x you #micheal afton x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf x male reader #fnaf x you

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stillfrownyclownlol · 3 months

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*slams my head on the sink* 100 questions for aidlyn.

I'm dead serious btw. This is long

1. Who fell first? Who fell harder?

Aiden fell first and Ash fell harder. But they are both horrendously down bad for each other 🫠

2. Who is the one who fusses the most? Does their partner mind very much?

They're both kinda fussy in different ways, but Aiden is the one getting hurt more often so Ash is fussing the most. Not that Aiden minds he eats that shit up.

3. What is their love language?

I think I mentioned Ash's is quality time and for Aiden it's physical touch :>

4. Has either ever gotten a hickey off the other? What was their reaction?

I've gotten a hickey from somebody biting me (IN A PLAYFUL WAY get your minds outta the gutter 🤡) so I feel like Ash would get one in the same way?? Like. Aiden just bit her cheek or smth. Cuz he's bitey. And it left a mark. She was really pissed about it 😭 like "Ow wtf man-!"

5. What is something they like to do together?

Oh, they're not picky...Aiden likes doing everything with Ash so he lets her pick. Ash likes doing something calm because she likes seeing him more low energy and relaxed like binging a show or doing a puzzle. If he leans on her she's done. She gone fr.

6. Who would ask the "would you love me if I were a worm?" question? How would the other answer?

Aiden would but just for fun and to not repeat myself lets imagine Ash asking 🤡 lowkey would be embarrassed and ask in the tiniest voice ever. Aiden ofc think this is adorable and tells her in great detail how he would get her a huge terrarium with the finest dirt and lots of food and Ash is just staring at him wondering why he put so much thought into it.

7. Who likes forehead kisses? Who likes hand kisses? Who likes neck kisses?

Forehead: Both :) Aiden likes her reaction and Ash kinda implodes whenever Aiden pushes her bangs back to give her a lil forehead smooch

Hands: Ashlyn, somehow it's easier than kissing him on the face or mouth but still conveys the intimacy she feels

Neck: probably Aiden, but it tickles Ash way too much for them to do it properly. He surprised kissed her nape once and she freaked out, so she threw her head back and broke his nose 🤡

8. Who is the big spoon? Little spoon?

Neither I STAND BY THIS. They sleep facing each other let me have this.

9. If there wasnt enough seats, how would they sit? One on the other's lap? One on the armrest? One on the floor in front of them?

Aiden steals the seat, makes a joke about how Ash can sit on his lap, Ash says she would literally rather sit on the floor, Aiden gives up the seat all pouty, then his restless ass spends the rest of the time finding a comfy spot before sitting on the armrest.

10. Who plays with whose hair?

Aiden 1000000% because he's obsessed with it. In the beginning Ash would pinch him whenever he did it, but after he started braiding her hair it didn't bother her as much. Likes fiddling with the tips or whipping the braid around like some weird ass stim toy lol 🤡

11. Who is clingy?

I think they both are in different ways...Aiden more tho, and he's more obvious about it 💀

12. What is something the other does that makes them flustered?

They're both idiots so they get flustered whenever they're soft with each other 🫠 for Ash, the aforementioned forehead kiss + Aiden praising her, and for Aiden it's whenever Ash touches his face really softly or initiates snuggling.

13. What is something they find attractive about each other?

Guessing this means physically?

Aiden: Her freckles. Or her hair. Or her eyes. Don't make him pick 🤡

Ashlyn: she's hard pressed to admit it but she does like his face- also likes his hands and looking at the scars.

14. What is something they argue about constantly? Is it a deep-seated issue or something small?

Aiden isn't big on fighting in gen, he doesn't have the motivation for it. Ash usually just scolds him for his piss poor self preservation skills and he'll sulk about it. Not above picking a fight about smth stupid if it gets her attention tho

15. How do they comfort one another when the other is upset?

Depends what is bothering them. Aiden usually goes for a hug if she allows it and tries to talk to her. Aiden usually prefers being alone if he feels like he's gonna get upset so it's a little hard for Ashlyn to help him, but normally tries to reassure him that she's not leaving, or holds his hands or face to help ground him. She's a very logical person so she tries to think of ways to solve a person's problem if they're upset, but most of aidens problems are internal/emotional.

16. Who is the better caretaker? Does their partner like being taken care of?

Aiden is better with physical injuries because...he's had them all before multiple times and he knows what to do haha. Ash appreciates the help but I wouldn't say she enjoys it. Ash is better with illnesses, which is great because Aiden acts like he's literally dying whenever he gets a cold (forcing him to spend all day In bed?? Just give him a death sentence while you're at it), so yeah he's a little baby that likes being taken care of.

17. Who steals whose clothes? Does their partner mind?

Most of Ash's clothes don't really fit Aiden...Ash steals his jackets/hoodies on accident because Aiden will give them to her (she gets cold easy) and she forgets to give them back (she's also a little weird about it and sleeps with them). He lowkey gets kinda smug when he sees her wearing them lol

18. They've had a major blowout. How do they handle it?

Like...the care tire blew out? Ash would probably change it (her parents taught her) and while she's at it she'd show Aiden how to do it too (he's never learned)

19. How good are they are communication?

.... C+ Probably rely on the gang a little too much to solve their issues. They're working on it, alr?

20. Who handles the spiders? Who screams directions in the background?

Neither of them are afraid of bugs BUT Ash does not like insects partly because she doesn't know how they'll react to smth. Logically tho she knows spiders are useful so she asks Aiden to get a cup and throw them outside.

21. Who typically tends to initiate intimacy first (this can be a conversation, action or anything)?

Depends on the kind, Aiden definitely seeks out Ash's attention more often (like asking her if she wanted to do the puzzle), but he's a little nervous about physical affection, so in the beginning of the relationship that was Ash. Now that he knows it's usually okay he is more touchy, but now Ash looks for his company more often so she will start conversations.

22. What is something - either character - doesn't like about the other?

Ashlyn: above all, his own self apathy. She is...really not cool with him hurting himself all the time. She also thinks he's way too impulsive and irresponsible sometimes

Aiden: don't ask him! But sometimes he thinks she's very...cold. and it hurts his feelings.

23. Who said "I love you" first?

Aiden, they were already together so he thought he should let her know :P

24. Who kissed who first?

Ash told him she wanted to first and he initiated it (since Ash didnt know what to do)

25. Do they have any pet names for one another?

Ash doesn't really like them, she feels stupid saying them 🤡 the closest is Mr. Durable if he's being an idiot. All her "idiot, dumbass, stupid" are affectionate. Aiden has like a lot of batshit crazy weird pet names for her that Ash doesn't understand at all. Partially to annoy her.

26. Who gets jealous most often? How does the other deal with that?

Pffffff. Aiden definitely. Ash usually doesn't really notice ("he's acting weird...well, he's always weird") unless somebody points it out. She's very pragmatic about it, she just bluntly tells him he's being stupid and that she's not interested in anybody else.

27. Who tends to drive on long journeys? Who navigates?

Ash is designated driver because Aiden is an absolute maniac on the road (even tho he says he's a fine driver) and they have a GPS because Aiden gets to distracted to navigate 💀

28. Do they trust one another? Are comfortable discussing their fears with one another?

I think in canon, and even in this theoretical relationship, they're a bit away from being totally open with each other. But they do trust each other.

29. What's an insecurity they hold about their relationship?

Aiden's BPD, even after everything, will flare up and he thinks Ash will leave him, especially cuz he's so "annoying and pushy", etc etc. This kinda bleeds into Ash's issue, which is the fact that she's putting so much into this relationship and she still feels like Aiden doesn't really trust her.

30. Describe how one would cheer the other up after a hard day.

Ashlyn: she says Aiden is like a kid, because to cheer him up she just has to hold him. A long cuddle session is in order, and some kisses for good measure :> Then she'll offer to go out tomorrow to do smth fun.

Aiden: she's probably overstimulted and exhausted, so he basically preps her/their room so she can relax to the fullest and does all the chores so she won't need to do anything. Orders takeout/goes to the drive-through so she doesn't need to socialize.

31. How would they describe one another?

Ashlyn: weirdo adrenaline junkie who doesn't know when to quit...and an idiot. He's still HER idiot tho.

Aiden: his guardian angel, bless her, because he must give her a heart attack per day at least.

32. Can they communicate private thoughts whilst in company? If so, how?

Not really haha. They're both difficult people to read, and they're not exceptions to each other.

33. Which one of them gives "that look" when they other is acting like a fool?

...Come on 🤡 You guys know. You know it's Ash.

34. How do they address a problem in their relationship?

...they'll probably ignore it for a while 💀 When somebody brings it up it'll be Ash. She is genuinely very invested in the relationship so like, she doesn't want it to blow up in her face haha, so she will look on the internet for a solution (or ask Taylor)

35. How does each significant other view any exes and former relationships?

Ash doesn't have any exes which is great because Aiden would probably be jealous of that too 🫠 Aiden doesn't have any like, real proper exes either. I guess she would be a little curious about his past relationships tho, just because he doesn't talk about them.

36. What is something that would break their hearts?

For Aiden, if she couldnt take him anymore...and for Ash, it kinda breaks her heart everyday that Aiden still thinks she'd leave him behind :")

37. Who is more likely to avenge their S/O if they were hurt or killed?

More likely??? I mean lowkey Aiden but they would both try- don't underestimate Ash's anger lol

38. What would be their ideal evening in?

I feel like they would binge watch a reality TV dance competition show or smth along those lines. Order a bunch of junk food, top it off with ice cream...Ash would probably fall asleep on him at like 1am and Aiden would fall asleep a little bit later because he sleeps easier with her next to him :)

39. Do they dance? If so, who's better?

They both dance!!! Ash is, ofc, an excellent ballerina and she knows some ballroom dancing. Aiden is better at freestyle and stuff like that, but Ash is better on a technical level.

40. What is a song that reminds you of the relationship?

Bro I suck at picking songs 😭 LOWKEY LOWKEY Acting My Age by The Academics 😭 Or No Time To Explain??? By Good Kid?? GODDDD I SUCK AT THIS SO HARD- Vampire Empire, Big Thief?? I'm gonna cry 😭

41. Who sings to the other? Are they any good?

Aiden tries to serenade Ash all the time lmao 🤡 he's not a really good singer or anything, but he's not terrible...

42. Who teases who? What about?

Aiden teases her more, but she'll drag him if it's necessary. He definitely type of guy to say "Omg you had a crush on me?? That's so embarrassing" when they've been dating for 6 months...

43. Who gets up early? Who stays in bed late?

Aiden can't sleep, so he gets up really early. Ash actually likes sleeping so if she can she's gonna sleep in 😭

44. Who's more likely to bring the other coffee or breakfast in bed?

One of the things Aiden can do in the kitchen is use the coffee machine!!! So he will bring her coffee in bed! No breakfast because...he doesn't know how to make breakfast... and he doesn't wanna cause her trouble by burning the pan or smth stupid like that 😭

45. What's the worst thing the other can say to one?

Ash: for him to leave her alone and to not talk to her again.

Aiden: telling her to leave like everybody else does in his life (he pushes people away)

They actually make me mentally ill /pos

46. If they were ever in a life or death situation, who risks their life?

HA. They both do, no questions asked.

47. If it ever came down to it, who is turning to the darkside to save the other?

Mm. I think they would both do it, but Aidens morals are pretty loose when it comes to Ash lol. If you asked him to kill somebody to protect her he wouldn't feel that bad about it.

48. If they ever had less that 5 mins to tell their partner something before never seeing them again, what would they say?

Ash: To not be scared, because she wants him to know she's going to do whatever she can to find him again.

Aiden: absolute mess, telling her how much he loves her and that she made his life so much better and worth living (Aiden, buddy-)

49. Is there a word or gesture that makes either of them melt?

Ashlyn: I'm serious, the forehead kiss, she literally stops functioning 😭

Aiden: When she looks him in the eyes, he knows she doesn't like that very much so he feels really special. Bonus points if she's holding his hands or cheeks.

50. Who's the romantic?

Aww, definitely Aiden. He's so silly about it all. Doodling their initials together, daydreaming about her, getting her gifts.

51. Are there any characters who ship them?

Taylor and Logan lowkey.

52. Who cooks? Who does the dishes?

Ash definitely cooks, Aiden can barely make Ramen. Aiden usually does the dishes to be fair between them, but Ash needs to supervise because he's prone to leaving grease or not cleaning the utensils properly (he wants to finish quickly)

53. Who eats healthier? Who's got the sweet-tooth?

Aiden is like a human garbage disposal, he eats the worse trash food humanely possible (and somehow is still not sick); his diet is basically fast food joints, convenience store snacks, and soda 💀 So Ash eats healthier... BUT Ash is the one with a sweet tooth. She really likes stuff like cookies, cakes, and chocolate. Aiden prefers salty and savory snacks (tho he does like candy, ex. gummy worms or lollipops, stuff like that)

54. What's something that they don't really care for but tolerate because the other has an interest?

Ashlyn: Video games. In general she finds them kinda stressful and loud, but she watches him play for fun (especially horror games)

Aiden: ballet shows. He ADORES watching her dance but like if she's not on stage he's not gonna be into it...

55. Who spoils who? Does their partner tolerate it? Do they secretly enjoy it?

Aiden absolutely spoils Ash, he has cash to burn, so why not on things she wants? :) lowkey Ash finds this a little weird, especially if he gets something really expensive (like this espresso machine he got her one Christmas) but she doesn't really have the heart to complain besides a "You don't need to spend so much on me..."

56. Who tends to be the level-headed one? Who is feral?

Ha 💀 Ash genuinely does her best to be level-headed...but deep down they're both feral.

57. Who reminds the other to wear a coat when it's cold out?

Ash. Aiden is one of those guys who goes out into snow In like jeans and a t-shirt to buy ice cream, so she crams him into a jacket...he lets her, cuz she zips it up for him and he gets a little goofy over that.

58. Do they hold hands?

..yeah :)

59. Is there a spot they tend to kiss or caress habitually?

Aiden brushes her hair back, so he touches the area around her temple/back of her ear a lot. Also kisses the palm of her hand whenever she holds his face. Ash kisses his cheek a lot, near the corner of his mouth.

60. Are they willing to show PDA? If not, is there a reason?

Well, Aiden doesn't really have a problem with it, but Ash is a little reluctant because it tends to draw unnecessary attention to herself and she does not like. Being perceived.

61. How would they describe their S/O in one word?

Ashlyn: "...interesting" (on a generous day, otherwise shes gonna say idiot 🤡)

Aiden: "incredible!!!"

62. How would outside characters describe their relationship?

Tyler calls it "barely functioning" which annoys Aiden to no end. Taylor thinks it's sweet how dedicated Aiden is to Ash...even though she's a little worried about him. In general everybody is kinda...pleasantly surprised the relationship hasn't exploded yet.

63. How would they describe one another while sleeping in the same bed?

Aiden normally kicks while sleeping so the first time Ash woke up with her shins really sore and bruised 🤡👍🏽 She's also not a fan of him snoring lmao. Aiden thinks she's a blanket hogger but, well, he won't complain about that. She also tends to curl up into a ball which he finds cute.

64. Would they ever answer the above question if it was asked to their face? How would they react?

Maybe when they were older and already living together, otherwise she needs to explain why they fell asleep on the same bed at the same time...lol

She'd be a little embarrassed that he finds her cute when she's sleeping haha. Aiden on the other hand would feel terrible about the kicking thing, AND the snoring (since she doesn't sleep with her earbuds in) 😭

65. Who tends to take the lead with intimacy?

Well, for kissing, Aiden tends to initiate it more, because he has a better idea of what you're supposed to do. But Ash sets the pace, if she doesn't want to do smth or stop, she tells him.

66. Have they ever been caught kissing? What would be their reaction if they were?

I dont think a peck is embarrassing...I guess this is like an open mouth kiss, but if they were doing that, I feel like they would only do it at Aidens house whenever it was empty because Ash is kind of paranoid about that stuff. If she got caught she would like. Die. Girl would be redder than her hair 🤡 Aiden would be a lil bit flustered depending on who caught them, but mostly annoyed at being interrupted.

67. Have they ever kissed anywhere questionable?

....In the phantom dimension lowkey

68. Who is more vocal? Who is the better kisser?

Aiden is just a loud person in general. He sighs a lot (he's lovesick fr), and sometimes he starts mumbling about how pretty she is and how in love he is with her.

They're both pretty bad kissers lol 🫠 Aiden loses his breath very quickly and Ash is super stiff.

69. If they were to go shopping, who holds the bags? Who decides where they go?

Ash doesn't really like shopping...? Lowkey stressful and she doesn't like getting new things. Aiden goes shopping because he has the money for it (he likes buying clothes) but he wouldn't make Ash carry his own bags lol

70. If they went out to dinner, who is paying? Would there even be a discussion?

Aiden. Ash usually tries to pay for herself but Aiden is pretty insistent about it, and he's SO rich that she has a hard time feeling bad about it.

71. If someone were to insult their partner, how would the other handle it?

Ashlyn: would snap back with something equally rude, but she's not super worried about Aiden, he has a thick skin and she knows that.

Aiden: will kill them with his bare hands. If Ash lets him.

72. If someone flirted with or showed an interest in their partner, how would the other react?

Ashlyn: probably surprised, she forgets not everybody knows about his massive baggage lmao. Teeniest tiniest bit jealous...

Aiden: absolutely the type of guy to swoop in, put his arm around her, and call her babe in front of the person. Will probably pull her away from the situation and then death glare at the person from over his shoulder :>

73. Who knows the other better? Why is this?

I think they both know each other pretty well, but Aiden knows all this useless trivia about Ash because he's obsessed with her /hj

74. Who's more likely to bail who out of jail? Would they give the other one shit for it?

Ash absolutely 💀 (it's with his own money too). She definitely gets on his ass for getting arrested over smth stupid like vandalism or "being a public disturbance" (and when he's older for stuff like driving under the influence or smth)

75. Which - if any - other famous ship's vibes do they emulate?

Man idk any famous ships :0 Like, what, an unhinged guy x girl clinging so hard onto those hinges? Guys let me know if you know any!

76. Are they soulmates? Do they believe in that?

I dont think they believe in spiritual stuff like that haha. They just know they love each other ^_^

77. What is something they would never forgive the other one for doing/saying?

Hhhhhh there's definitely a timeline where Aiden kills a person for Ash and I don't think she would ever really get over that, even if she still stayed with him. For Aiden...is hard, because it would be stuff that's not in character for her...maybe if he wasn't getting better and she left him. He would feel betrayed that she "abandoned" him when he was at his weakest. But even then...idk if she apologize for it I think maybe he would take her back...idk idk, they're complicated 🤣

78. Who has memorised the other's medical history?

...Aiden

79. Also, are they each other's first contact in an accident?

Technically its their parents but they would call each other right away, and when they're older Aiden would definitely change it to Ash. Doesn't help that they tend to get into accidents together tho 😭

80. What tropes could be applied to this relationship?

Grumpy x Sunshine, A Couple with Emotional Wounds, Battle Couple, Cannot Spit it Out (because fuck me that's why), Devoted to You (Aiden to Ash), Fire-Forged Friends...I'm this close to putting Heroes Want Redheads but...I'll control myself-

81. Did they have a meet cute? Or was it a train wreck?

More like a bus wreck, she literally ran away from him 💀

82. Make their relationship into a list of A03 tags.

Hm...Idiots in Love, Biting, Mutual Pining, Obsessive Behavior, Complicated Relationships, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Bruises.

(All of this list is fluffy shit so let me think about the darkness for a second)

83. Who gets frustrated more easily? How does the other calm them down?

Ashlyn lowkey, she gets irritated when she feels like she's not being understood or smth isn't going to plan. Most of the time Aiden will try and talk to her, which has a 50/50 chance of working lol

84. Have they ever almost lost one another? How does it effect their relationship?

LMAO yeah 😭 they HAVE lost each other and they both blame themselves hard for it, it makes Aiden even clingier and more overprotective than he normally would be, and Ash is hard on herself because she feels like she can't protect him when it's her job.

85. Their partner is tipsy. How do they handle it?

Ash: semi-regular thing she deals with as an adult. He is usually a reckless drunk person so she tends to redirect his attention towards herself (so he will shift into flirty drunk mode lol) and hopes he'll fall asleep soon :p

Aiden: he'd get upset because Ash would never willingly drink enough to get tipsy- lowkey his first thought is that somebody drugged her 🤡 (Ash probably just didn't notice her own limits) she's a pretty quiet drunk tho so she won't cause him too much trouble. She's also more affectionate which he guiltily enjoys

86. Who gives the best gifts? Who gives the more thoughtful? Who goes for expensive?

Okay, so...like...it's not like Aiden goes for expensive gifts just cuz they're expensive, it's just like. Sometimes he just so happens to get something that is expensive for her! And he knows her pretty well, so he knows what she likes. Ash is always kinda nervous about gift shopping because she feels a little...apprehensive about buying people stuff...but she's not bad at it, it just takes her a while.

87. If they ever lost one another in a public place, how do they find the other?

Ashlyn: She just calls him on her phone lol, if she doesn't have it on her she will just walk around looking for him because...he's kind of hard to miss-

Aiden: Definitely starts yelling her name really loudly and bothering all the other people in the area asking if theyve seen her💀

88. What's the darkest secret they have ever told one another?

I feel like for Aiden it would be telling her about his past and stuff :p Ash doesn't exactly have a dark past or anything, I think at that point it would just be saying some dark thoughts she's had.

89. Would they ever consider marriage?

They don't really have strong feelings about it, Ash just asked him for the tax benefits.

90. Would they ever consider starting a family?

...I think Aiden is more into that idea than Ash is.

91. Who likes kids more? Who can't stand them?

Man okay neither of them dislike kids- Ash is just awkward around them and doesnt know how to take care of them 😭 Aiden has a lot of fun playing with kids but he's not exactly a responsible babysitter either lol.

92. There's a puddle in one's way. What does their partner do?

Ashlyn: ...??? Lmao she's not gonna do anything, maybe try and jump over if they really can't go around it 😭

Aiden: he's gonna jump in the puddle. It's for his enrichment. If Ash doesn't wanna get wet tho, he'll probably try and pick her up and put her on the other side lol

93. One has hurt their leg on a hike. How does their partner carry them?

Aiden is stubborn about that stuff and he's hurt his leg A LOT so he's only gonna lean on her for support. If Ash hurt her leg he'd carry her on his back.

94. Their pet has caused destruction. Who puts the pet in jail? Who defends the pet?

Ash is the disciplinarian, she's putting the dog in pet jail 😭 Aiden is probably going with the dog, he definitely contributed to the disaster...

95. Who gives flowers to their partner? What sort of flowers do they like?

Idk I feel like they're not big on flowers. Ash doesn't want smth that's gonna die in a few weeks- I feel like the only time they'd give each other flowers is if they were chilling in a meadow or smth. I think Aiden puts daisies in her braids.

96. Who reads the newspaper? Who wants to see the cartoons?

Aiden isn't big on reading- Not that Ash is either, but she'll skim the paper and give Aiden the funny strips.

97. How do they wake their partner up? Is it difficult to rouse them?

Aiden is a very light sleeper, so she just needs to call for him or touch him to wake him up. Ash is like....mid level, so Aiden will do annoying stuff to wake her up, like touching her foot with his (it's cold as balls), or tickling her nose with her blanket. 20% he'll start singing too.

98. Who would burn the world down for who?

It's easy to say Aiden, but I think they both would :>

99. Who gives off "they said no pickles" energy?

I guess this is an unpopular opinion but like i just don't think Ash would care enough to go to the register, even if they got his order wrong 😭 So imo Aiden-

100. Make a meme of this ship.

Another one...? Alr

If you made it here... *gives you a cookie* :)

#sbg #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg (webtoon)#aiden clark #ashlyn banner #aidlyn #aiden x ashlyn #ashden #jfc

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bradshawsbitch · 7 months

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‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅸ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 3.2K

× chapter warnings; swearing, see general story warnings, mature content, mentions of food

disclaimer; first of all, thank you!! for being so understanding and amazing about this story. i am so overwhelmed with love for all of you who keep being excited about my surly chef, even after all this time. second of all, i am sorry for it having been an 'all this time' - your support means everything to me. thank you again ❤

this chapter was super hard for me to write, which is why it's a little shorter, and perhaps more of a filler and a thank you to my readers. please be aware that the prose may be a little rusty as i am slowly getting back into writing again ❤

tagging some people who i know have waited; @roosterforme @hangmanssunnies @mak-32 @laracrofted @pisupsala @cherrycola27 @gretagerwigsmuse @seresinsweetie @ryebecca @lewmagoo

otherwise you can follow @bradshawsbitch-library and turn on notifications ❤

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Soft little sighs, muffled by muted green sheets fill the room as rays of the morning sun turns harsher the higher it rises in the sky. Noon is approaching, unbeknownst to the two laying still in bed. A Monday, which for many means the start of a new week, gone is the restful weekend and labor is nigh. For the two forms in bed though, the pace of mere mortals were not applicable. A waitress and a chef could sleep in, for their holy day was indeed Monday. Most restaurants were closed, or very slow come Monday - which gave those weary souls a day to rest.

Turning slowly, the woman burrow deeper into the sheets, a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips as she heard Bradley’s soft, sleepy grunt as his arms tightened around her naked midsection. He hasn’t awoken yet, and neither had you, not fully at least. Sleepy eyes were slow to open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light that surrounds the two of you.

Waking up next to Rooster’s warm form sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Seeing the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips are ever so slightly parted - his cupid’s bow defined so prettily beneath that lovely facial hair of his… the way freckles dot along the bridge of his nose… tan skin so beautiful, ridges, freckles and spots that adorn his skin. Sleepily, you let your finger trace over those shapely shoulders, where, much like the stars the freckles dot all the more frequently.

“Bambi…” Rooster grunts, voice raspy and breathless - the mere mention of your nickname makes those fluttery wings of butterflies flap helplessly within your chest. His hold on you tightens again, drawing you in towards his chest. One arm embraces your form soothingly, as the other gently tucks your head into his chest, a large thigh suddenly nudging its way in between yours to rest. This position he also adjusts, letting the hand that had rested in its embrace slide slowly down past your bottom, ghosting over your thigh before gripping just above your knee - drawing it up high on his thigh.

A content sigh leaves his lips as his thumb draws soothing circles on the bare skin that’s still in his firm hold, pleased with how he’s molded you into his form. You fit quite nicely here, he reflects as you start to place small kisses against Bradley’s sternum - he’s warm from sleep, radiating calm and safety as he holds you near.

“Getting enough air in there, sweets?” he rumbles after a few moments of your face buried in the dip between his pecs, lips ghosting over his sternum every now and then. Nodding, you let out a soft ‘mhm’ in reply as you trace your hands over the ridges of his hips and waist, gently letting yourself explore his adonis belt and lower abdomen.

Bradley lets out the softest of noises, a choked moan that seems to catch in the back of his throat as his pubic hair tickles the back of your hand as you leave feather light touches closer and closer to where he needs you. His grip on you has tightened, and his nose and lips are pressed tight against your hair where he inhales deeply. His palm is flexing, tensing and kneading where his palm is spread on your thigh - he hesitates for only a short moment before he uses his strength to pull your leg further over his hip.

A small gasp and a pathetic whine slips past your lips as your lower body joins where your hand had been exploring just seconds ago. Drawing your hand back, you feverishly grasp at Bradley’s neck, shuffling to tilt your head back up to catch his lips with yours, your body fluid and ever moving against his large form. Pressing, pushing, pulling– the leg Rooster had pulled closer now draws him in to you, the whole length of your naked body pressed against his sturdy one.

“Fuck, Bambi…” he groans as you grip the short hair at the nape of his neck before your lips chase his, you whine again as Rooster’s palm slides up to grip the flesh of your ass, kneading and grinding you against his hardening cock.

“Bradley!” you gasp as you feel his warm, soft skin run along your sensitive clit. Another whimper leaves you, clinging on to his shoulders, drawing him in with all the strength your sore muscles can muster. You need to be closer, need to have him surrounding you in every sense. Bradley hums deep in his chest as his lips stray from yours to leave chaste kisses along your neck, his hot tongue laving over points he discovered you were responsive to yesterday.

Bradley’s hand drifts from your waist, up to tease at your nipple, pinching, pulling gently before letting his palm envelop your flesh, kneading and drawing out soft little moans from you before he traces his fingers down your stomach, down to where you’re rutting against his upper thigh.

“What’s my needy little baby want, hm?” his raspy morning voice reverberates in your ears, and as he speaks he lets the rough pad of his index finger press against your clit, slowly drawing languid circles in time with your desperate movements.

“Need you…” you whine, frustrated that he thought now was a good time to tease you. His soft chuckle in response draws the least intimidating little growl out of you, and Bradley can only smile as he places a soft kiss to your lips

“Relax,” he whispers “we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart,” as he says this, a single thick finger gently eases back and forth over your slick folds before pushing inside. Bradley slowly moves in and out of you, lips attached to the junction of your neck and shoulder, drawing small moans out of you as he works you open for him.

If yesterday had been frantic and explosive, today Bradley was savoring you. He wanted to memorize every sound you made, every move of your body as it reacted to his touch, every mewl of his name falling from parted lips. As he worked three fingers into you, he could hear your breathing pick up slightly, your grip on his bicep tightening and loosening rapidly, and he couldn’t help the smirk that grew against your salty skin.

“You gon’ cum for me, sweet little Bambs?” he muttered, and you could only nod as your moans turned high pitched, Rooster never slowing or altering his movements as your body shook against his own as you tipped over the edge on his fingers. Bradley moaned low at the sight of you.

“Look like a fuckin’ angel cumming on my fingers…” he murmured “Fuck, darling, you make me so fuckin’ hard.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he used your slick to coat his cock, languidly stroking himself as you came down from your first high. Panting, you nudged your nose against his, lips connecting in a fleeting kiss before you felt the nudge of his swollen tip against your puffy entrance. “Please,” you whispered softly against his lips, fleetingly catching a glimpse of those amber eyes. They were so intense, but you couldn’t look away if your life depended on it.

At that first gentle push, your breath stuttered against Bradley’s parted lips. His cock was slowly inching into you, and even if he’d made a point to carefully prepare you for him, that initial stretch felt otherworldly - had he been this big yesterday too?

Grunting, Bradley’s eyes fluttered shut. Gripping his bicep, you inhaled sharply, pressing your forehead against his as he stilled. “You alright, baby?” he murmured, his hand moving to soothe up and down your back, making your chest flutter with emotion.

“Yeah- just… were you this big last night?” you moaned, and Rooster couldn’t help the small laugh that left him, before he reached up to cup your cheek. Moving away a little, he let his adoring gaze roam over your face. The cute scrunch of your nose, the thin sheen of sweat making you glow, eyes alight with lust and… Bradley blinked, taking in the way your chest heaved, the way his body was molded against yours, your warmth and your trust - it made him dizzy.

“More… please, Bradley,” your voice was soft, and you slowly moved closer to his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck where your lips flitted over the skin of his throat, along the long line that went across it, up to his jaw and back down to gently suckle at the skin near his collarbones.

Letting his strong arms wrap around you, Bradley moved against you, one hand slowly ghosting over your skin to grip your thigh as his cock slid deeper and deeper into your core, finally bottoming out as he gently pushed at the small of your back to tilt your hips just right. Small little noises reverberated against his warm skin, and he felt your lips leave wet traces as you occupied your mouth with his neck and shoulders.

“You okay, Cookie?” he murmurs against your ear as he rocks his hips slightly against you. The soft mewl you let out fills his chest with pride, and something like a fierce need to protect you, to make sure you’re taken care of.

“So good, Roos’” the words were slightly slurred against the naked skin of his shoulder, and he grunted softly as he yet again used his strength to form your body against his. His large palm resumed their hold right above your knee, drawing it upwards as he pressed your bottom down against himself. Almost as if he was rocking your body against his instead of the other way around.

“Sound so pretty for me, darlin’” Bradley murmured, gently nudging your chin with his nose, lips hovering over your skin - he needed you to look at him. Needed to see the way those sweet eyes betrayed adoration, betrayed lust and need and want and… trust. He needed to see how much you depended upon him - how you’d given yourself to him to cherish.

As with every other thing, you were so responsive to him. To his voice, touch - it was dizzying, truly. Your glittering eyes held his, and he moaned low in his throat as he felt the way you squeezed him as you caught sight of his face. He could feel his heartrate picking up, could feel the way his breath were coming in shorter bursts, and it fucking turned him on to no end that that drew the softest of little mewls from you - made your brows pinch in that cute little needy fashion he’d noticed only once yesterday.

“You okay, my little Bambs?” he murmured softly, letting his lips brush against yours lovingly “I’m so okay,” you whispered against him, your hands slowly running across his muscled chest, nails leaving soft little tendrils of pleasure as they went.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rooster confessed breathlessly, grunting softly at the end as his cock slid, if possible, even deeper into your heat - as your hips started rutting against his movements. The soft moan of his name made him groan, fucking into you more languidly - slow, steady and deep. The hand that wasn’t gripping your thigh, keeping it hitched high over his hip, returned to squeeze and knead at the flesh of your breast. Fuck, he loved your tits. Loved your body, loved– his breath hitched in his throat, heart almost doing fucking double time…

Blinking, he let out a shuddering breath before letting his mouth leave a wet trail down your throat, before his lips enclosed on your nipple, his tongue teasing and flicking against the nub. At the sensation of Bradley’s hot tongue on your sensitive breasts, you let out a high pitched moan, pushing your chest against Bradley’s face as your hands flew to his curls, gripping tight as you panted wildly. You were so sensitive, and Bradley’s cock was stretching you, pulling and pushing so so slow - and yet he made it feel so fucking good. You could almost feel every ridge and vein as the drag of his cock made wetness drip from your core, down his length, making a mess of his pubic hair… He was fucking you so incredibly, right there in his bed, that you’d both shared that night.

You cried out his name again, ending almost on a sob as he pushed his cock deep inside just as he let his lips latch on to your flesh, giving it a heady suckle - his facial hair scratching just hard enough to bring tears to your eyes from the pleasurable sensation. That pressure was building again, deep in your core, building and getting more and more tense. He was everywhere, just like you’d wanted. Filling you, tasting you, gripping you… his smell was surrounding you, the feel of his hair, the warmth of his body, his sweat glowing like a halo around his body in the morning sun as the muscles in his back rippled and moved.

“Bradley!” you sobbed pathetically, clawing and clinging to him, he must have felt how close you were. Your pussy was pulsing around his thick dick, your arousal dripping down his balls at this point. He was grunting and moaning against your flesh, and you desperately tried to rut your hips, needing more, more more– but he kept his slow, deep pace. His cock barely left your cunt before he pushed deep, each stroke of his cock hitting that spot that you hadn’t been sure if it existed or not.

“That’s it, baby,” Bradley’s voice sounded wrecked and broken as he released your now glistening nipple. “Can feel you squeezing my dick,” he sounded almost smug - you hated that it almost turned you on. His large hand was still palming at your tit as he nipped and kissed gently at your jaw, your hands still tugging desperately on his hair.

“N-need more,” you gasped, pleading with him as you looked down on him. Those amber eyes of his were shadowed by heady lust, and he just smirked softly before shaking his head ever so slightly “No,” he muttered, kissing your chin as you cried out, the tears that had burned behind your lids slowly running down your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his cock twitching deep within your pussy “so pretty, darling, crying for more of my cock,” he whispered, you couldn’t do more than nod and keen, letting out small cries and whimpers as you felt your core clench around him harder, chasing that high so desperately.

“You’ll cum from this, baby.” he rasped “You don’t need more.” he decided- It felt like he was cradling your body in his hands, molding and shaping, pushing, pulling, playing with you as if you were only made for him. And he was right. As he spoke those words, a shocked gasp tore through your throat as you cried and sobbed, white hot pleasure rolling through your body in waves as you shook and shook, convulsing slightly with every thrust that Bradley’s swollen tip hit that sensitive spot deep within your core.

“Fuck–” Bradley moaned loudly, “atta girl,” he praised, voice breaking slightly as your hips rolled and shook in his hold “Fuck, Bambi- I’m gon’...” his chest rose and fell rapidly, his shoulders and back muscles rippling as he fought to hang on to see you through your high, not sure if he could–

“Cum in me,” you whined softly, needing him. Needing him everywhere. At those words, Bradley shattered. He couldn’t hold on if his life depended upon it. With a long, low moan of your name, his hips stuttered, once twice, stilling deep within you as he gasped and his warm release filled you, over and over as his cock pulsated through his high.

“Jesus, darling…” Bradley gasped and moaned low as your cunt throbbed around his still hard dick, milking him of the last of his orgasm. “So good… so fuckin’ beautiful… soft ‘n pretty,” he was murmuring now, kissing his pretty words into the skin of your chest. He finally released his grip on your thigh, palms gently smoothing over the area, ghosting over your skin as his strong arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him as you both caught your breaths.

“Bradley,” you murmured lovingly, nuzzling into his warmth, it was hard to describe how you were feeling - but it felt weird. Good, but a little jarring. You’d never experienced sex in this fashion before - not entirely sure you’d even experienced any other partner giving you two orgasms, let alone while they were actually inside of you. Your heart was fluttering fast and hard, and the tears that had run down your cheeks had all but dried, but it felt as if the high was lingering - clouding your mind and making you feel so utterly vulnerable.

Perhaps he could sense it, perhaps he could hear it in the smallness of your voice, but slowly he’d ushered you to rest against the broad expanse of his chest as he softly shushed and murmured against your skin. “You’re alright, darlin’ - did so good.” in the fluffy state your mind was in, you hadn’t really gathered that you were whimpering and making noises as Bradley held you.

“There you are, baby… you’re alright, you’re safe - I’ve got you honey… fuck - that was incredible… you’re incredible,” he let out a small laugh as his strong hands moved up and down your spine, the other gently stroking over your hair as he murmured praise and soft words of encouragement in your ear. Tilting your head back, you took in the tenderness of his brown eyes, and you smiled softly up at him.

“That’s it, there’s my beautiful Bambi,” Rooster murmured before placing a small kiss on your nose. “Gave unsteady legs a new meanin’ huh?” he rasped, grinning as you swatted at his chest, although you couldn’t help the amused smile that stretched on your lips.

“Do we have to get up?” you murmured, pouting softly at the thought of leaving this heavenly moment. You didn’t want to walk out into the harshness, the cold, the bitter. You wanted to stay here, in Bradley’s arms where everything was okay, everything was safe and covered in a thick layer of fluffy soft clouds.

“Not right now,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head “I have to get up to cook you something of substance to eat in a while, but you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that just yet,” he smiled, placing a reassuring kiss against your hair. You smiled softly at the thought, a content sigh making your form rise and fall gently in his hold.

“You never stop working, do you?” you teased.

“Well, hate to break it to ya, Bambs - but people will unfortunately always need to eat,” rolling your eyes, you felt the head chef had earned another light slap against his chest - the only answer was a rumbling sort of laughter that made his chest vibrate slightly against your touch.

“And cooking for you isn’t a job,” he said casually “it’s something I love doing.”

For some reason, those small words sent a strong wave of emotion through your body, awakening the flutters of butterfly wings again. This time they were not only contained to your stomach, but seemed to flutter and spread warmth and overwhelming, nearly suffocating emotions all through your body. Choked up, you merely squeezed Bradley as tight as your muscles would allow it before offering him the most sincere

“Thank you.”

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