#this is very out of left field but I stand by it

[hbyrde36]

for @penny00dreadful

Ch 1 <-

Chapter 2: Yellow Brick Road

WC: 4946 | Ch 2/4 | AO3 <-

They’d been walking for quite a while, nothing to see save for the fields of corn spread out on one side of them, wheat on the other, when they came upon a fork in the road. 

Steve stood in the middle of the intersection, peering as far as he could down one path, and then the other, but there was just no way of knowing where each of the winding roads led. He threw his hands up in frustration before settling them on his hips. “Great, just great. Now what do we do?”

“Convenient how no one thought to mention the road split off.” Eddie grumbled.

“Right or left?”

“Flip a coin?”

Steve shrugged, it was as good a way to decide as anything else. “Sure, why not.” 

Eddie stared at him expectantly. 

“What?” Steve asked.

“Well, I don’t have any money on me.”

“Then why did you suggest flipping a coin?!”

Eddie bristled, as if Steve were the one being ridiculous. “Because you’ve always got spare change on you!” 

“It’s those damn kids, always begging me for quarters for the arcade.”

“Did you ever think if you stopped carrying coins, the little shits would stop hitting you up for them?” 

Steve frowned. “That’s… hmpf.” Because no, he hadn’t, actually. He started to rummage through his front pockets—a feat, frankly, given how tight his pants were, and wondered how big a fit Dustin would pitch if he were to actually stop handing out free money like he was a goddamn ATM machine.

“Hey!” A voice called out. “Dingus one and Dingus two!” 

Steve startled—they hadn’t seen another soul for miles. 

He looked all around for the source of the sound and finally spotted something—a lone figure mounted to a pole just inside the split-rail fence, nestled between a few stalks of corn. One of its arms was propped up, pointing, the other resting at its side. He grabbed Eddie’s hand and rushed towards it, swinging his legs easily up and over the wood planks, glimmering heels and all, before helping the other boy do the same. 

As they got closer he could see that it was a girl made of straw and burlap—a scarecrow, his brain supplied offhandedly, though her face looked remarkably human and alive. 

She winked, and smiled down at them. 

Steve gasped, his eyes raking over the dusting of freckles painted over the girl’s cheeks and nose. “No—No way.” He shook his head, taking another step closer. Was every person in this place a version of someone from home? 

“Robin?” 

The Scarecrow frowned. “Never heard of her.” 

Steve deflated. “Right.”

“Is that the way we’re supposed to go? The way you’re pointing?” Eddie asked, getting right to business as if he were unfazed at this newest encounter. Which was fair. It was pretty tame compared to the horrors of the last alternate dimension they’d been trapped in. 

“That way’s okay.” She said with a small shrug, before dropping her left arm and raising her right—rotating it like a windmill in the process. “But that way’s pretty good too.”

“Very helpful.” Steve deadpanned.

“Of course,” she went on, ignoring him as she crossed one arm over the other—pointing in opposite directions at once. “People do go both ways.”

Eddie snickered, immediately clapping a hand over his own mouth to stifle his laughter. 

Steve felt a rush of heat as he broke out in a full body flush, cheeks flaming. Surely The Scarecrow hadn’t meant—

The thing was, Robin—the real one—had been talking to him a little bit recently about the possibility of going both ways, as it were. He’d been starting to suspect, for no reason in particular, that he might not be as entirely straight as he’d previously thought. 

Okay, fine.

There was a reason, and the culprit, cause, and source of his suspicion was standing right next to him, looking at him with those big brown eyes, sparkling with the last remnants of laughter, and smiling in that very particular way that showed his dimples to full effect. 

It made Steve feel wild, like a swarm of butterflies had taken flight in his stomach. 

He wondered if Eddie knew, if he should tell him, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

It wasn’t the possibility of being bisexual that frightened him. More than a possibility, he supposed—clearly that ship had sailed—what with the way he practically salivated anytime Eddie raised his arms to stretch or reach for something up high, exposing that delicious little strip of tummy and—

Yeah… definitely not straight. 

And he knew the other boy was gay, Eddie and Robin had both come out to the rest of the group a few months ago, so, the possibility was there, but just because Eddie liked guys didn’t mean he liked Steve. 

All of that to say, his fear lay more in the worry of ruining their friendship if Eddie didn’t feel the same way about him.

“We’re looking for the Emerald City, do you know it?” Eddie was asking The Scarecrow when Steve tuned back into the conversation. 

“I can’t say that I do, no, but that’s not much of a surprise. I haven't got a brain, you see.”

“How can you talk without a brain?” Steve asked. 

“Seriously?” She quirked a brow. “Have you heard what comes out of most people's mouths? It’s not that hard.”

Well, she had him there.

“The thing is, my words come out faster than my thoughts sometimes, and I just wind up rambling on-and-on until I stop making any sense at all! No one understands me, and I just know if I had a brain it would solve all my problems. “She sighed wistfully, staring off into the middle distance for a moment before seeming to remember that they were there, and snapped back to attention. “What’s in the Emerald City anyhow?”

“A wizard, hopefully.” Eddie said. 

“We’re going to see if he can help us get back home to Hawkins.” Steve added.

“Hawkins, huh? That’s a funny name.” The Scarecrow mused. “Well, if he’s capable of interdimensional travel, surely he could handle one measly brain. I’ll even take a second hand one, I'm not picky! Can I come with you?”

Steve resisted the urge to point out that her figuring out all on her own that multiple dimensions even existed was proof enough that she did, in fact, have a brain. He didn’t mind the idea of her tagging along, even if she wasn’t Robin.

“It’s fine with me,” he said, looking to Eddie, who nodded his agreement. “We should warn you though, there's a witch after us.”

“I ain’t afraid of nothing except rabies and talking to girls, which is completely normal.” The Scarecrow paused, thinking it over. “And maybe a lighted match.”

With a little finagling they managed to get her down with minimal damage. Steve held her around the waist while Eddie loosened the nail in the back of the pole, and it would have been fine, but in the heels his center of gravity was a little off, not to mention the uneven ground, so when she was set loose and suddenly he was holding all her weight, it put him off balance, sending them both sprawling to the ground. 

She lost a little hay in the fall but quickly shoved it back in, rearranging it this way and that in the front of her top. Steve looked quickly away—it was like watching his sister adjust herself in her bra or something.  

“What? You don’t like boobies?” The Scarecrow asked, finally done fluffing herself up. 

“Not yours!” 

“Well that’s just rude,” she huffed, pushing herself to her feet. She vaulted the fence, and started slowly making her way down one side of the yellow brick road.

Steve glanced up to find Eddie already above him with a hand out ready to help, and he let the other boy tug him to his feet, his skin burning where their palms touched. But Eddie accidentally pulled just a bit too hard and they wound up chest-to-chest, while Steve struggled to find his footing.

“Thanks,” Steve said softly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze flicked down to Eddie’s mouth, heart beating like a jackhammer. 

“Anytime, Stevie,” Eddie whispered back, sounding just as breathless as Steve felt.

They were so close, it would take nothing at all to just lean in and—

“You dweebs comin’ or what?” The Scarecrow shouted from a few yards away.

They broke apart in surprise, sharing an awkward laugh, and hurried to catch up with their strange new friend.

“It’s Steve and Eddie, actually.”

“I’m starving.” Eddie griped for the dozenth time in the last half hour alone.

It wasn’t like Steve couldn’t sympathize, he was hungry too, but Oz didn’t exactly have a convenience store on every corner, and whining about it incessantly wasn’t helping anyone.

Even if he did find Eddie’s whining to be sort-of… cute.

God, he was in so deep.

Thankfully, as they walked, the scenery began to change and the fields that had been flanking them on either side for so long gave way to a grove of trees, and not just any trees– 

“Oh!” Steve tugged on the other boy’s shirt and pointed excitedly ahead. “Eddie, look, there's a bunch of apple trees.”

Eddie curled his upper lip in disgust.

“Were you, or were you not, just complaining about our lack of food?”

“Yeah, but I was hoping for a cheeseburger or something, not… fruit.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Steve rolled his eyes as he stepped off the path, heading towards the nearest tree, and reached up to pick one of the many shiny, red, and delicious looking apples. 

Before he could even register what was happening, the tree moved, a cluster of its branches wrapping around his wrist like a hand, squeezing tight. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice croaked.

A voice that seemed to be coming from The Tree.

Had Steve not faced down a demogorgon, demodogs—plural—the Mind Flayer, an entire swarm of demobats, and fucking Vecna, before, he probably would have been terrified at the prospect of a talking goddamn tree, but when he got over the initial shock he was mostly just annoyed that he couldn’t get himself free. 

He wrenched and pulled but it was no use, until Eddie appeared at his side, taking hold of The Tree’s other arm—if you could call it an arm.

“Hey man, let go!” Eddie yelled at it. “You didn’t have to hurt him, we were just hungry!”

“How would you like to have someone come along and pick something off of you?!” The Tree barked.

Eddie snarled, bending back several of its smallest branches until the thing squealed in pain. It released Steve abruptly and he stumbled sideways, right into Eddie’s arms, and together they backed up to where The Scarecrow stood.    

“It’s alright, Steve. You don’t want any of those apples anyway.” She said, looking down her nose at the offending plant. Er, creature? 

Whatever.

“Are you hinting my apples aren't what they ought to be?!” The Tree grunted.

“That depends, are they supposed to have little green worms?”

“Get out of here or I’ll–” 

“You’ll what? Grow at me?” She taunted.

The Tree growled, struggling in place and waving its branches at her.

The Scarecrow stuck her tongue out, blowing a raspberry at it, and pulled the boys away by their collars. 

They were only a short distance away when she stopped on a dime, whirling back around to face the small orchard. “Get bent by a stiff breeze you weeping willow!”

“What are you doing?!” Steve hissed.

“Getting you some apples, duh,” She shot back. “Come on, catch!”

Steve turned, and sure enough The Tree, along with several of its brethren, were now hurling perfectly ripe apples straight at them. He caught as many as he could, cradling them in the front of his shirt until he couldn’t hold anymore, while The Scarecrow hid behind him. 

Eddie, for his part, tried his best, but sports had never been his thing, and it showed. He wound up on hands and knees chasing after a few of the fruits that had rolled away in the soft grass. 

The other boy was only out of sight for a moment, but Steve’s heart still dropped when he called out from behind a tall shrub.  

Steve rounded the overgrowth in an instant, bracing for whatever new threat had come to find them. He was prepared for a lot of things, a pack of rabid bunnies perhaps, or a sentient rose bush, what he wasn’t prepared to see was a girl made out of tin, and not just any girl—Nancy.

“Nance?”

“I… don’t think that's her name.” The Scarecrow said, circling the other girl’s still form. “I’ve heard of these things. She’s a Tin Woodswoman!”

Steve stared. The girl was frozen like a statue with one arm held aloft wielding an ax, and though she couldn't blink or move her head, her pleading eyes were looking right at him, following him wherever he went. 

Suddenly, a sound much like a squeaky wheel came from between her unmoving lips.

“Was that… did you try to say something?” Steve asked. 

“Ooooooool ca,” The Tin Woman tried again. “oooooooooil–ca”

Steve snapped his fingers. “Oil can! She said oil can!” It didn’t take long to find the small container with its built-in dispenser stashed behind a nearby tree trunk. “Where should we oil her first?”

“You should probably get her consent before you start in on all that.” Eddie muttered.

“Eddie,” Steve glowered. “Be serious.”

“Not that I know much about these things, but maybe start with her mouth so she can talk?” The Scarecrow suggested. 

“Right.” Steve aimed the end of the spout, dispensing a small amount of the liquid to the corners of her mouth.

Within seconds the oil went to work and her lips loosened. “Oh thank goodness I can talk again. Can you oil my arms next, my elbows?” The Tin Woman said.

Steve worked quickly, lubricating all of her joints, but still her one arm was stuck up in the air. Seeing her struggle, Eddie grabbed it and yanked. The limb finally fell, axe and all, the sound of it like an old car door being forced open.

Eddie grimaced. “Oh shit! Sorry, did that hurt?” 

“No, it feels so much better, I’ve been holding that ax up for ages.” The Tin Woman assured him, taking a few tentative steps. She only creaked a little. 

“What happened to you?” Eddie asked.

“Misread the forecast. About a year ago I came out to cut a tree down when it started to rain. I rusted solid—mid-chop!”

Curious, Steve continued to examine her, wondering what enabled her to walk and talk. Not that it was any weirder than The Scarecrow, really. He knocked on her middle, the sound reverberating like a drum. 

“Wow! What an echo! How’d you pull that off?” The Scarecrow asked.

“It always sounds like that.” The Tin Woman shrugged. “I guess the tinsmith forgot to give me a heart.”

The Scarecrow gasped, “no heart?!”

“No heart,” The Tin Woman sighed, hanging her head. “It’s not that I mind not having one exactly, they are easily breakable from what I understand. It's just that, well, it makes me come off kinda cold, y'know?” 

Now, this wasn’t Nancy, Steve knew that, but damned if he hadn’t had the same thought about her once or twice after she’d so thoroughly crushed him, calling him and his love bullshit that night in the bathroom at Tina’s Halloween party—and the betrayal that had come after.

Heartless. 

He knew it wasn’t strictly true. Those were the thoughts of a boy who’d had his heart stomped on by the first girl he’d ever given it to. Nancy had the capacity to love, and fiercely. He’d seen it in the way she protected the people she cared about, willing to do anything to keep them safe—including him. She just didn’t love him in the romantic way. It had taken him a long time to accept that, to be okay with it and get over her, but as he looked into Eddie’s eyes over the top of The Tin Woman’s pointed funnel hat, he knew it’d all been for the best. 

Nancy had a heart, she just didn’t always know how to show it, and he was willing to bet this Tin Woman had one too.

“You should come with us!” The Scarecrow said.

The Tin Woman tilted her head. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to see a wizard! Eddie—that’s the long haired one.” The scarecrow leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “And Steve here are trying to get home. I'm in the market for some brains, and I’m sure the wizard could manage a heart for you too!”

“Do you really believe he’ll get you home?” The Tin Woman asked, turning to Steve.

“I hope so, we’ve come such a long way already.” He said.

A shrill cackling laughter filled the air, and in a plume of red smoke The Wicked Witch appeared out of nowhere, atop the roof of a nearby log cabin.  

“Long? You call that long? Why, you’ve only just begun!” She sneered down at them, turning her attention on the two newest members of their little party. “And you two lovely ladies, helping them along are you?”

“Yeah, what of it?!” The Scarecrow taunted.

“Stay away from them, or I'll stuff a mattress with you!”

“And you—” The Witch paused, pointing the tip of her broom down at the Tin Woman. “I'll use you for a beehive.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” The Tin Woman growled.

“Oh, the crumpled up wad of aluminum foil wants to play with fire, huh? Let’s see how your highly flammable friend fares against this—” The Wicked Witch raised her hand palm up, conjuring up a fist full of flame that she hurled at their feet.

The Scarecrow shrieked and threw herself to the side, even Steve and Eddie shrank back from the heat of it, but The Tin Woman, who had nothing to fear from a little unfriendly fire, quickly put it out, using her hat to smother the blaze. By the time it was done, The Wicked Witch was gone. 

“You weren’t kidding about a witch being after you!” The Scarecrow said. 

“About that,” Steve began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it would be best if Eddie and I traveled the rest of the way alone. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to either of you because of us.”

The Scarecrow narrowed her eyes. “Not a chance. I'll see you safely to the Wizard, whether I get a brain or not.”

“Me too!” The Tin Woman agreed.

-

Not long after their confrontation with The Wicked Witch, they continued on their journey down the yellow brick road, where their surroundings changed yet again. The scattered trees thickened into dense woods, dark where the canopy blocked out most of the sun, and the air was filled with the sinister sounds of unfamiliar wildlife. 

“I know I said I wasn’t afraid, but I don't like this forest. It’s dark and creepy.” The Scarecrow said.

Steve shrugged, bumping his shoulder against Eddie’s. “We've seen worse. Anything is better than a sky full of demobats, right?”

“What’s a demobat?” The Scarecrow asked.

“It’s like a regular bat,” Steve began. “Except… not at all? They’re bigger than you might think, with gray leathery flesh, and wings, and these long tails they like to choke you with. Their mouths are small but don’t let that fool you, they’re full of razor sharp teeth.”

Eddie glanced at him sideways, a crooked grin playing on his mouth and a light blush spreading across his face. “I dunno, Harrington. I’d pay good money to see you take a bite out of one of those little fuckers again.”

Steve grinned back, cheeks burning under Eddie’s attention. “That so, Munson?”

The Tin Woman gaped at them. “What is wrong with you two?” 

If possible, Steve’s face grew even hotter, but as luck would have it a series of bellowing roars sounded off in the distance, and their flirtation, if it was indeed that, was quickly forgotten.

“What was that?” The Scarecrow whisper-shouted.

“Lions?” Eddie guessed.

Deep growls filled the forest next.

The Tin Woman hung onto the Scarecrow’s arm. “And tigers.”

Steve strained to listen for what else might be out there, and heard a long huff and a distinct gnashing of teeth. “And bears.”

“That doesn’t seem right, all in the same woods?” Eddie murmured skeptically. “Lions, and tigers, and bears?”

“Oh shit.” Steve shouted as something came barreling out of the trees and onto the path, coming straight for them.

They all reared back, cowering away from the oncoming threat and The Tin Woman stumbled in the process, dropping her axe to the brick road with a clang.

Steve scrambled to pick up the fallen weapon, twirling it out of habit as he took up a spot in front of his people, stepping between them and the overgrown stuffed toy who for whatever reason seemed to mean them harm. In hindsight he should have known better than to expect Eddie to stay back with the others and let him handle it, for as much as the guy liked to call himself a runner and a coward, not once had he backed down from a fight when the safety of his friends was in question.

Now being a prime example. 

Armed with nothing more than Steve’s tied-together discarded sneakers, which he was swinging around wildly like every teen boy who saw The Karate Kid in theaters and decided to try their hand at nunchucks, Eddie joined Steve at his side, facing their foe head on. 

“Put ‘em up, put ‘em up!” The Lion sneered.

Steve was pretty sure he’d had footie pajamas that looked like this guy once. 

Mid swing, the laces on Steve’s sneakers came loose from their knot, and one of the shoes went flying out of Eddie’s hands, beaming the lion right in the forehead with a loud smack. 

The beast’s paws flew to his head, cradling it as he began to cry hysterically. “What’d you do that for, I didn’t bite him!”

Eddie furrowed his brow, looking from the pathetic sobbing creature to Steve and back again. “Were you… going to bite him?”

“...No?”

Steve scoffed.

The lion moved his giant mitts from his face, tilting it up into the light. “I-Is my nose bleeding?”

“It would serve you right if it was!” The Scarecrow scolded.

Now that Steve had a better look at the guy, he realized he’d seen The Lion’s eyes somewhere before. He peered closer, squinting into the oddly humanoid looking face when it clicked.

He looked back at Eddie and mouthed, ‘Jonathan.’

Eddie snorted.

“Hey, can’t you see he’s just scared?” The Tin Woman said, pushing them both gently aside. She gazed down at The Lion with a telling softness in her eyes, and took up the end of his tail, drying his tears with it. “There now, that’s better.”

He blinked up at her in awe. “I-I’m sorry.”

She patted his hand and smiled. “Now, do you want to tell us what that was all about?”

“Oh, I'm just a stupid coward is all.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve cut in. “I mean, you did come after the four of us all by yourself.”

“Naw, that’s not being brave. I saw you coming and I got scared, like I always do, and decided to lash out first before you could do the same to me. If I was really brave I'd have just come out and said hello.”

“Well, no harm done I guess, but we should really get going.” Steve said.

“But we can’t just leave him here all alone.” The Tin Woman insisted. “What if we brought him along? Maybe The Wizard can help him too. Even if not, the world is much less terrifying when you’re not alone.”

Steve couldn’t help but look Eddie’s way at that, feeling the truth of her words in his soul. They’d been through so much together since their fraught beginnings at the boathouse—made countless trips into the Upside Down before it’d been destroyed, faced Vecna and his hoard of monsters, twice, and it’d all been that much easier to bear because they’d been together.

Eddie nodded as if he’d heard all of Steve’s innermost thoughts though he hadn’t said a thing out loud, and he knew they were on the same page.

“The more the merrier, I guess.”

-

Before long they reached the edge of the forest, which opened up into a sprawling meadow full of bright flowers in shades of red, pink, purple, and orange, growing right over the yellow brick road. That sight alone was enough to take Steve’s breath away, but it wasn't the only thing that caught his attention. Just on the other side of the vast ocean of blossoms was a cluster of tall brilliantly green buildings, a city, shining just like the emerald gemstones it was named for. 

“There’s The Emerald City!” Steve shouted, pointing towards the horizon excitedly. “Oh, look! Eddie, we’re almost there!”

But Eddie didn’t respond, he was squatting down at the edge of the growth, eyeing the colorful blooms with suspicion. 

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Eddie turned concerned eyes up at him. “Something doesn’t feel right about this, like maybe it’s some sort of trap?”

“How can flowers be a trap?”

“Well, for one thing they’re not just any flowers, they’re poppies.”

Steve crinkled his brow. “Okay…”

“Poppies? Y’know, the thing they use to make opium?”

“Oh!”

“What’s opium?” The Scarecrow asked.

“I don't think they have drugs here.” Steve said.

Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully, and shrugged. “That’s fair, no need to trip balls when you already have talking trees.”

“So what do you want to do?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t like it, but it doesn’t look like we have much choice. The only way to the Emerald City is through it, so.” Eddie shook his head, pushing himself back to his feet, and reached for Steve's hand. “I guess we’ll go as quickly as we can, and hope for the best.”

The unlikely quintet formed a chain of linked hands and ran together as a unit through the vibrant meadow. At first Steve thought Eddie had been wrong, that it was just an innocent field of wildflowers, but by the time they’d reached the top of the first small hill he was gasping for air, and his legs felt like they were pushing through molasses, unusual for someone who exercised regularly, jogging at least four times a week.

“Wait, wait.” Steve panted, leaning heavily into Eddie as he tried to regain his breath.

“Steve?” Eddie looked him up and down, worrying his bottom lip.  

“I can’t run anymore, I–I’m,” Steve cut himself off with a yawn. “I’m so sleepy.” He wobbled in place, knees going weak. The other boy caught him around the middle, lowering him gently to the ground.

“What’s wrong with him?” The Scarecrow asked.

“I don’t know.” Eddie said, studying his face as he hovered over him, eyes wild with panic.

“I have to rest for just a minute.” Steve babbled, knowing it sounded ridiculous. They were so close to their destination, he could practically see the individual windows on the buildings of the Emerald City, and suddenly he wanted to take a nap? Something wasn’t right, but he couldn't seem to fight it. 

The Lion yawned loudly. “Now that you mention it, catching a few winks doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” He swayed on his feet, kept upright only by The Tin Woman’s grip on him.

The next thing Steve knew, Eddie was gently prying his eyelids open, though he didn’t remember closing them. “Fuck, I knew something was off about these flowers. It’s that damn Wicked Witch, it has to be!”

Not that Steve was paying much attention to what he said, because god was Eddie pretty like this—his big brown eyes even larger and more beautiful up close, so dreamy, with his dark curls hanging down around him like a curtain. 

Eddie's lips parted in surprise as his hands still cradled Steve’s face. “What did you just say?”

Oh shit, in his tired stupor had he actually said some of that out loud?

“Eddie, I–” Steve managed to force out, but Eddie swayed above him, eyes rolling back in his head for a moment before he tipped sideways, falling gracelessly to the ground beside him. 

It was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and Steve knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the magical sleep that was pulling him under. He turned his head and found Eddie looking at him too, doing the same long blinks, both of them fighting a losing battle. 

With his last bit of strength Steve reached out, and Eddie reached too, clasping their hands between their bodies, fingers entwining with practiced ease like they were made to fit together.

As Steve’s eyes slipped shut there was another thunk nearby, the distinct sound of a body hitting the ground, something he had unfortunately heard enough times to know, and could only assume The Lion must have been felled by the same thing that’d gotten them. 

The last thing he heard as his consciousness faded away, were the terrified shouts of The Scarecrow and The Tin Woman calling out for help.

Chapter 3

Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie wizard of oz #adventures in following the yellow brick road with your crush #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #stobin #stobin in every universe

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze?

Ok so I wanted to start posting my Soulmates AU for Raindrop month, but writing for my Medieval one is going waay better than planned and it's confusing me to have 2 separate backstories in my head at once, so while I still have *checks calendar* 5 DAYS, here's a little stand-alone ficlet!

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze? A Midwest Emo Ghouls AU ficlet

Rating: T Content: fluff, literally that's it just fluff Words: 615

Lots of love to @alwaysjustmina for organizing this month again this year, I love any excuse to write about our soggy boys!! 🌦️🖤

hello @revengeghoulette, here is your summons as promised!! 🫡

Read below, or on AO3!

Haymaking season was coming to an end, and Swiss, Mountain and all the ghouls who pitched in to help were looking forward to a well-deserved break. To celebrate the end of the season, Swiss had built a maze out of hay bales for the children and kits of the town, as well as some of the more enthusiastic adults.

The whole community had come together to put on a party at the ghouls' farm. Mountain and his colleagues from the hardware store had built fairground games, Dew had dragged the church's speakers down on a trailer and was playing records Mist had brought from her shop. Aurora's cafe had a small pop-up, and Cirrus had brought a vat of apple cider, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, for the younger guests. Cumulus was in her element, her little face-painting stall attracting such a sizeable queue that Sunshine had jumped in to help out. Phantom was taking his new role as Youth Pastor – and more recently Sunday School teacher – very seriously, replacing her in supervising a very intense game of tag. While Mountain minded the hay maze, Swiss was giving rides on the haycart he had hitched to the back of his tractor, driving the children and kits up and down the field in the warm afternoon sunshine.

After closing time, once the families had gone home, the ghouls had the place to themselves without getting in the way of the fun of the younger members of the community. Rain and Dew were the last ones left inside the maze. Aurora and Mist had quickly disappeared somewhere together, Sunny, Cirrus and Cumulus were deep into their mission of finishing off the cider now that their responsibilities were over, the three of them covered in rainbow paint and body glitter.

Dewdrop and Rain walked hand in hand through the maze, quietly drinking in each other’s company in the balmy evening air. Making it to the centre of the maze they sat down on a bale, surrounded by golden walls on all sides as the amber glow of sunset spread across the sky. Dew leaned his head on Rain’s shoulder, utterly content in the moment.

“It’s beautiful.” Rain commented, as they watched the play of colours around them. “Just like you.”

Dew turned his face to bury it in Rain’s neck, bashful.

“You are, and I’m so proud of you, taking over from Aeth like you did. You’re doing such a great job, love! Look at how the town and harvest are flourishing. I’m honoured to call you my husband.”

Never one to take compliments well, Dew redirected Rain’s affections by capturing his lips in a searing kiss. The pair lost themselves in each other, the cooling temperatures went unnoticed past the warmth of their bodies, the slight prickliness of the hay nothing compared to the soft slide of their lips.

By the time they came up for air, Dew having squirmed his way into Rain’s lap, the sky was glowing a deep russet colour. From outside the maze, they could hear the sounds of the others packing up to leave.

“Alright lovebirds, time to come out or I’ll send the dogs in!” they heard Swiss call. The pair only giggled, Rain placing feather-light kisses across Dew’s cheekbones while he blushed the colour of the sky.

“You don’t have a dog!” Dew hollered back as he struggled to hold in his giggles.

“Hi Dewy.” deadpanned Mountain.

Eventually, Dew and Rain managed to find their way out of the maze, neither wanting to be found and carried out by the giant earth ghoul.

“Nice straw hat, Rain.” smirked Swiss, “although normally you weave it into itself, not directly into your hair!”

#I’m tweaking the timeline slightly to have Phantom in town closer to Dew’s element transition shhh! #raindrop month #raindrop april #raindrop #midwest emo ghouls au #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #nameless ghouls #em writes

[fazedlight]

I've got Kelly on the brain today (I blame luthordamnvers' post and sideguitar's post). There's a lot of good dialogue there, particularly on how she deserved more than to just be the therapist who got to talk about race one time - how she deserved better dynamics with all the superfriends and for her story to be a real thread on the show.

I think it's easy to see how she and Lena could've gotten along, in that Azie and Katie seemed to have really good chemistry, and I think that would translate well with their on-screen friendship (had the writers given them time to do so).

But also...

Okay, bear with me.

I'm not sure how many of you watched Bones. To the left is Angela, a passionate artist who somehow ends up in a group of forensics specialists and an FBI agent to solve murders. She has a great understanding of human behavior and psychology, and often brings a sort of real-world understanding to the group. She's also probably the most open-minded of them.

To the right is Bones - aka Temperance Brennan - an extremely intelligent and autistic-coded forensic anthropologist who is extremely good at reading bones. But though she's a genius, she's often clueless about human interaction.

I think it would've been neat to see Kelly and Brainy have this sort of dynamic. They might not be BFFs like Angela and Bones are, but having them develop a friendship while being polar opposites in certain ways could've been neat. It's the sort of dynamic that can be played for laughs, or that could be used for character development for either (often both) side(s).

TV has a lot of odd heartwarming friendships. Think Spike and Joyce from Buffy. Or even Stein and Jax from LoT. Or everyone from The Good Place. They're not the intuitive things people expect - but when done right, they can work really well, and I think Kelly and Brainy could've had a dynamic like that.

#this is very out of left field but I stand by it #kelly olsen #brainy #mel stuff

[whatudottu]

I am currently very sleep deprived! So instead of doing anything about it I made memes (where it’s only 3 unique jokes across 5 images) about the thoughts plaguing my head- Andromeda 5 edition!

#prypiatosian-b #orishan #talpaedan #amperi #geochelone aerio #andromeda 5 #ben 10 #xenobiology #headcanon #meme #i suppose outside of what has been stated- i think about turtles/tortoises for GAs and squids/jellyfish for amperi #as it stands #come back to me when i have developed more bizarre thoughts i might come back with some alien thoughts #i said 'thoughts' twice that annoys me #i have had more time to futz with my thoughts on prypiatosians (as a general sweep) because i think the b addition makes them intriguing #like obviously there's an 'a' of sorts- it's an english translation of the species name #everything changed when the 'fucked-up-deer' redesign attacked #and then i gave orishan cockroach bullshit because i thought radioactive fucked up deer would be extremely touch starved #and who else to get your physical contact quota than from your very own husband #talpaedans having ant/bee gender structure was completely out of left field outside of thinking about construction equipment #i wonder what i can do to make GAs and amperi a little more (real world animal inspired) alien #outside of the fact that one's a literal turbine and the other can just dissolve into pure electrical current

[majimassqueaktoy]

She wins <3

#and that is the end of my Yakuza 5 playthrough 😮‍💨 #the plot was weird and confusing but I did have good fun and Haruka was a delight #as was Shinada #honestly Saejima and Aki and Kiryu too #Baba and Mirei were stand outs I loved them both very much #Okudera was so funny... all the mountains stuff was very left field but I liked it #Yeah :)

[chooey]

just finished breaking bad

#spoilers ahead so! tread lightly #breaking bad #bc i binged a lot of this show some episodes do not stick out to me like i cant tell u what happened on which episode or even which season #the naz!s were so left field like i think the story would still be the same without the hooked cross tattoos #it was surprising how the drug cartel or whatever didnt have much involvement in s5. like why did i think for sure theyd relocate to mexico #a follow up wouldve been nice is all im saying #OK. characters! my fav were mike jesse gus skyler and saul. hated walt literally since day 1. didnt change much up until the end #listen i can understand the concept of characters being morally bankrupt egotistical narcissistic abusive and manipulative #but walt was just . not charming enough a character to do it sorry he is what he is. sorry to him but i cannot stand him #i can appreciate some of his monologues though! fly (episode) was great for that the show needed it at least in my opinion #i like that all the characters are fundamentally flawed ! walt is at his core insufferable but he makes a good tragic story👍🏼 #hank was so stupid like? 😭 when lab equipment from walt's school were stolen i thought that'd be it lollll #it was well written for the most part i think!!!!! some parts needed suspension of disbelief but whatever yk #what matters to me the most is whether i cried or not and yeah. yeah i did cry!!!!!! so what!!!!!!!!! #THEMES. obv theres change/corruption... power and abuse of power. toxic masculinity? and family. living life to the fullest if ur insane #also!!! just finished el camino and i liked it! simple story but i like the themes in it. this man's been through so much #jesse was point blank a victim of abuse and im glad he gets to leave the past behind and move forward with his life #owned up to the choices that gotten him up to this point. had control over his life again and building a new future for himself #very cool. also the ending of brba? i think it's good enough i mean i cant think of anything more fitting #but man did he do some incredible... maybe irreparable damage to his family huh. midlife crisis things <3 #i hope they heal <3 somehow <3 #wait about the themes too in brba!! one is reaching ur full potential... again if ur insane #idk maybe sometimes it's ok to flop. just as long as ur enjoying ur life and ur happy... i think that's fine! walt u and i will never agree #izza💭

[cinnabeat]

i think at this point you couldnt pay me to get back into bsd

#i can tolerate a lot but the includion of vampires is like #weird #not bad objectively just kind of out of left field? EVEN THO IT SHOULDNT BE #im just being weird about it #and like i cant bring myself to reread it to catch up and figure out whats going on #bc its looking increasingly like nothing good is happening ever? #i wont call it a tragedy #and its not jujutsu levels of horrifying things are happening #from what ive gathered anyways #i just think its kinda going bananas #and as always i cant stand dazai so #idk what im trying to esplain or what im even saying btw im very fucking tired #michi tag #its not a tragedy unless its pandora hearts levels of tragic #if the death of a character doesnt leave me sobbing for hours and off kilter for days is it really a tragedy

[glitterdisposition]

i love how FULLY insane i get before my period starts like. i blocked my bf for 8 hours bc i told him i needed to hear “something nice. like how i’m smart and cool and you like me” and he literally texted me back “you’re smart and cool and i like you” and i got so mad i started crying.

#i stand by my feelings i just think my reaction was a bit out of left field #if im asking u in very clear terms for reassurance and u don’t give it to me and then i give u an example #and u just repeat the example right back to me #yeah that’s kind of annoying

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

~

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal.  There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok imagines #record of ragnarok x reader #hades x reader #yandere hades #yaanderecore #yancore

[ellemj]

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you're both exposed to an unknown chemical in the field, things go from bad to worse.

Warnings: prelude to obvious smut, talk of masturbation, talk of unprotected sex, profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires more warnings.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author's Note: Just messing around on here and seeing where I end up. I want to write an absolutely filthy part 2 but if this doesn't get anywhere I may scrap it lmao.

            Every. Damn. Time. Something goes sideways every damn time. You want to blame Fury for making the two of you partners to begin with. What the hell did he see between the two of you that made him think missions would ever end in anything other than the two of you butting heads? You sigh deeply and rub your temples with the pads of your left thumb and middle finger, squeezing your eyes shut as you will yourself not to kick Bucky clear across the lab. You know what Fury saw between the two of you, and as much as you hate to admit it, when you’re in absolute life-or-death situations, you and Bucky work together better than any other partner you’ve ever had in the field. Even Nat.

            Dropping your hand from your face and opening your eyes, your gaze lands on Bucky. He stands at one of the lab benchtops in the center of the room, his eyes narrowing as he examines an array of monitor screens before him. You can make out an organized table of data along with a few charts on the monitor to his left, but that’s not what draws your attention. The second monitor, the one right in front of him, displays a few words that have you on edge.

            Confirmed nitric oxide stimulant capabilities. New formula contains increased quantity of aqueous extract of dried tuberous roots of C. borivilianum.

            Shit. This can’t be what you think it is, but with your medical background and your old medical microbiology classes from before joining SHIELD and the Avengers, you know that there’s a very slim chance that you’re misinterpreting what you’re reading. You step forward now, gently pushing Bucky’s arm to move him away from the monitors so you can get a better look at the data. He begins snapping pictures and immediately sending them back to the team. You can feel his eyes on you as you study the graphs and tables. He’s not used to you being this quiet, he knows something’s up.

            “What are we looking at?” He finally speaks up, his gaze drawn to the colorful graph displayed on one of the monitors.

            “I don’t know.” You lie straight through your teeth, reaching for the keyboard that controls the monitors. You press the right-facing arrow key and the page that said something about nitric oxide disappears, quickly replaced being replaced by a row of video clips, each one titled with a trial number and date. It looks like HYDRA was running trials in this experiment for months.

            “Bullshit. Why won’t you tell me what it is?” Bucky asks. His tone is sharp, impatient. He isn’t used to being the one who doesn’t know what’s going on, and it’s bothering him. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek and waits in silence for you to say something, to say anything. You hover the cursor over the first video clip, dated three months ago from today, Trial #1. Everything in you is screaming not to watch it, not to click on it and confirm your suspicions, but you’re here for a reason. You have an easy job here today: break into the HYDRA facility, collect samples and any data that goes along with what they’ve been working on for the past few months, and then destroy the facility on your way out. Sam and Torres planned it out so perfectly, making sure it would be vacant for the next 13 hours so you and Bucky could slip in and get the job done under the radar. They planned it for two months, doing recon and coming up with contingency plan after contingency plan. You need to confirm your suspicions and get as much evidence as possible before blowing the place to bits.

            You glance over your shoulder at Bucky, and his blue eyes meet yours with a hint of concern. He hates when you’re quiet like this, he hates those rare moments in the field when he can’t read your mind. What the hell are you thinking? What aren’t you telling him? He knows you well enough to know that you’re nervous about whatever you’re seeing here.

            You click the video link and a slightly grainy image of a padded square room fills the screen. The floor and walls are gray and there isn’t any furniture in the room, only what looks to be a set of shackles on the back wall. A shiver runs down your spine and you pull your phone out, typing up a message to Bruce Banner while you wait for something to happen on screen.

You: A chemical compound that stimulates NO and uses aqueous extract of C. borivilianum…is it going to be what I think it is?

            As your message sends, Bucky reaches around you, his chest brushing against your back, and he uses the mouse to fast forward the video until people are appearing on screen. You watch as presumably a HYDRA agent shoves a woman into the room, obviously an unwilling participant in the experiment. She doesn’t fight much as she’s placed in the shackles on the wall, but it’s obvious that she’s weak and likely drugged. The HYDRA agent briefly steps out of view of the camera, before returning with a second captive, a man this time. He’s large, muscular, and has a dark look in his eye. You feel Bucky stiffen up behind you, realizing at the same time as you that this man is a super soldier. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you steal a look at the response from Banner.

Banner: Yes.

            Fuck. The next two minutes of the video are pure horror, even though nothing particularly horrific happens before you slam your hand down on the spacebar, pausing the clip abruptly. You both watched on as a cloudy vapor was pumped into the room through vents, and then watched on as the super soldier became more and more restless, sweaty, and crazed. As soon as the female captive began whimpering and pulling against her shackles, with her eyes trained on the super soldier a few feet to her left, you couldn’t let the video play any longer.

            “Tell me what it is.” Bucky says evenly from behind you. You swallow hard and reach into one of the pockets of your tactical pants, pulling out a device similar to a USB and plugging it into the computer before you. As all of the data and video clips begin to transmit through the device, back to Sam and Torres, you turn around and face your partner.

            “HYDRA hasn’t been able to recreate the super soldier serum. They haven’t made any progress at all since Zemo killed Dr. Nagel.” You say slowly, choosing your tone and words carefully. You don’t want to say too much and leave Bucky as terrified as you are right now, but you also know you can’t keep this from him. Not when you need him to understand how fucking careful you’re both going to have to be from now until the end of this mission.

            “I know that. What are we here for, y/n?” His tone is growing more and more impatient, his jaw ticking as he stares down at you. God, he can’t ever just shut up and listen. You put your hand on his chest, shoving him a few steps back and walking across the lab, to the glass refrigerator in the far corner. It’s full of vials of a clear liquid, each sealed at the top and marked with a label full of scientific terms.

            “They got desperate, and turned to even more barbaric methods of creating super soldiers. They started experimenting with chemical compounds that induce a primal need in those exposed.” You explain carefully. You pause now, turning to look back at Bucky once more. You see realization spread across his face and he quickly comes to understand what you’re saying. It’s a fucking sex pollen.

            Static crackles in your in-ear briefly before Sam’s voice reaches you both.

            “Banner and Stark just finished reviewing some of the data you shared. This is not something that either of you want to be exposed to.” Sam advises, and you can hear Torres in the background typing away on a keyboard.

            “Yeah, no shit.” You mutter, retrieving a pair of nitrile gloves from a box on the benchtop nearby and setting up the small lockbox that you brought for samples. You open it to reveal a padded interior, with enough room for three vials. The rest will have to be destroyed.

            “Just grab the samples, rig the place to blow, and get the hell out of there. I don’t want you in there any longer than you have to be.” Sam’s orders spur Bucky into action, and he starts setting up explosives around the corners of the lab while you get ready to retrieve the samples from the fridge. If only you’d known that HYDRA was one step ahead.

            It happened so fast that you didn’t even have time to try to protect yourself. The moment that you pulled open the small door to the fridge full of samples, that same cloudy vapor you saw in the video clip began to rush in from every air vent in the lab.

            “Shit.” You mumble, reaching into the fridge and grabbing three vials. You quickly place them into the lockbox and seal it, knowing that you’ll definitely need samples to test now that you’ve both been exposed.

            “Sam, we’ve got a problem.” Bucky is as calm as ever, though his voice comes out slightly annoyed. Of course he’d sound annoyed in this moment. He’s been exposed to a sex pollen alongside the partner that he can only get along with when they’re staring death right in the face. He heaves a weighty sigh before stalking over to you and snatching the lockbox from the benchtop. He quickly slides his backpack off, shoving it inside, and then heading for the exit, without checking to see if you’re on his heels or not. You strip off your gloves and bound after him. The gravity of the situation hasn’t hit either of you yet, but oh, it will soon enough.

--

            Bucky weaves his motorcycle in and out of traffic almost recklessly, with your arms clutched around his abdomen. It’s only been fifteen minutes since you were both exposed but you swear that you’re starting to feel the effects. Your cheeks are hot and flushed under your helmet, your hands are shaking as adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart is racing. If you hadn’t been on the back of a motorcycle with Bucky so many times in the past, you would’ve chalked your symptoms up to this experience, but it’s definitely not that.

            “Loosen up, are you trying to do the Heimlich on me or something?” Bucky spits out, his voice playing in your helmet. You do as he says, loosening your hold and taking a deep breath in. You don’t say anything in response, which furthers the tension between you both. It’s been fifteen minutes of stressful silence and Bucky’s losing his damn mind. He wants you to give him shit like you usually would when a mission goes sideways. He wants you to lash out, tell him to stop driving like an ass, he wants you to say anything so he knows you’re okay. He can’t fucking stand the silence.

            He guides the bike down the long dirt road to the safe house you stayed in last night, and you hop off before he’s even put the kickstand down. He watches as you rush up the steps of the small cobblestone house, yanking off your helmet in one swift movement before you key the code into the door and force it open. You’re feeling the effects of the chemical pulsing through your veins, you’re feeling it and you’re trying to keep it from him.

--

            “It’s a very complex compound. A nitric oxide stimulant, utilizing both natural and man-made components. It’s basically a super soldier version of Viagra and ecstasy all in one.” Bruce says, addressing both you and Bucky through the video call. Concern and stress are etched into his soft features as he stands in the lab of the Avengers compound, his arms crossed and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to have to look out for the negative effects, which from the video clips of their experiments, are extremely strong. Take the side effects of ecstasy and multiply their intensity by a hundred.”

            “So, sweating, hypertension and tachycardia, jaw pain…” Your voice trails off as you list off the side effects of ecstasy that you know from your previous pharmacology classes. Bruce nods slowly.

            “Basically, you’ll feel like you’re having a heart attack, unless you’re able to relieve yourselves.” He summarizes.

            “What do you mean relieve yourselves?” Bucky questions. He’s seated on the couch next to you, his brow is furrowed and a sheen of sweat is becoming apparent along the side of his neck. You try not to look at him for too long, already feeling yourself longing for touch and physical contact of any kind.

            “If you’re able to achieve a postcoital state, you should have temporary relief of your symptoms. You might have to achieve that state more than once, until the chemical is out of your system.” You can almost hear the wheels turning in Bucky’s head as he works out what postcoital means. You have to reach an orgasm to feel any relief, but bless Banner for trying to put it in a more professional way.

            “Have you tested the half-life of the chemical yet?” You ponder, wanting to know exactly how long you’ll both be suffering through this. You wipe a bead of sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.

            “Yeah, it seems like it can last anywhere from eight to ten hours in a non-super soldier, but it was designed specifically to work in conjunction with the serum, so it lasts eight to twelve hours in a super soldier.” Bruce’s words are starting to jumble together in your head, adding to the slightly throbbing headache that’s forming behind your eyes. You squeeze them shut and rub your temples just like you did in the lab earlier, zoning out as Tony and Bruce both start discussing the pharmacokinetics behind the compound currently wrecking your body.

            “What are our options here?” Bucky asks quietly, directing his question to you alone. You turn to look at him and see his cheeks flushed like yours now, his pupils dilated a minute amount, and his hands clasped together over his knees. There’s no hiding that it’s affecting you both now.

            “I don’t know. The only thing I can think to do is lock ourselves in different rooms and try to ride it out.” You say, rubbing your aching thighs through your tactical pants with the palms of your hands. Your bones are starting to hurt in a deep, consuming way, and all you want to do is give yourself a few doses of propofol to knock yourself out for the next eight hours. It’s going to be hell trying to get through this without having sex, especially if pain is setting in only an hour after the initial exposure.

            “Okay, so we do that. We each lock ourselves in a bedroom and fight it.” Bucky sounds sure and resolved, like he has total faith that your only plan available will work out fine. All it took to bring out his optimistic side was being doused with a sex pollen and stuck in a safe house.

            “I want to monitor both of your vitals through the night.” Bruce calls out, gaining your attention again.

            “No.” You and Bucky both speak firmly at the same time, quick to reject the idea. You don’t need a medical record showing how aroused you end up being tonight, you don’t need Bruce or any of the SHIELD lab staff watching your heart rate increase as you touch yourself, watching your blood pressure spike as you near your climax alone. Bucky is thinking the same thing, shit, his heart rate is probably already through the roof as it is, just from sitting next to you. He tries to focus on whatever else you, Bruce, and Tony are discussing but his jaw is clenched in pain and he’s fighting the urge to rip off his tactical suit right there. It feels like it’s fucking ninety degrees inside. The only thing he catches in the last bit of the conversation is from Tony.

            “There’s a chance you won’t find any relief in an orgasm alone, Y/n. Bucky will, because his body won’t know the difference between finishing himself off vs. finishing inside of a fertile woman, but this compound is meant to make your reproductive system go into overdrive. You won’t feel relief until your body thinks it has a chance of reproducing, until semen is introduced into your system.”

            “Fuck.” You inhale sharply, doubling over in pain both at Tony’s unfortunate conclusion and at the cramping sensation you’ve suddenly felt deep in your stomach. Fucking hell.

Next Part

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #sex pollen #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel

[vagabond-umlaut]

tryst, too tempest

Icarus fell for loving the Sun.

You will, for loving your lover.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; 1.1k wc; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone' & 'fall of icarus'; warning: sukuna is sukuna, so expect the expected [mentions of violence, murder, cannibalism]; warning 2.0: the reader is not very keen to leave or not love her husband; uraume is the BEST WINGPERSON none of you two ever deserved but still got; FLUFF & ANGST & A MADLY DEVOTED LOVE YOU AND SUKUNA FEEL FOR EACH OTHER

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' – same universe as the work 'six seeds, like rubies...' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Foul winds howl through the land, the first year of your life as one Ryomen Sukuna's wife.

Servants cower before you the moment your shadow falls within their field of vision, yet their gaze stays steeped in pity and envy the entire time it remains trained on your feet. Grocers mumble to one another, eyes looking away when you move to look at the things in their shops. Even the very flora and fauna, you loved so much growing up, writing poems on them from the day you knew how to pen a poem– even the same flora and fauna feels so foreign to you—

"You do realize your importance to Master, don't you?"

Uraume's quiet question floats in through your thoughts, much akin a gentle breeze creating small ripples over the water surface. You smile. "Given how I haven't been eaten by him or sent to be murdered by his subordinate curses, I think I do."

Emotion, too similar to humor, flits across the mien of your husband's loyal follower — you decide not to think much of it. Too many days of having only them as someone to speak to, outside of requesting for a second serving of the soup or asking for the cost of yukata, has led to you imagining a smile on a person who is famous for their poker face. Shaking your head, you return to your poems, the quill fluttering over the roll of parchment you found lying at the breakfast today morning, and let out a content sigh — only for your peace of mind to be broken by the bursting of a guard into the garden, appearing too terrorstruck to utter a single coherent word.

It takes you nothing save one glance, moving from him to Uraume to your ink-stained fingers, before you find yourself keeping the papers on the ground beside and rising, feet breaking into a hasty giddy run down the corridors of the palace to the throne room where, certainly enough–

"I was under the impression you've run away in the extra while I spent sleeping, wife."

The world around you comes to a dead stop as the visage of Sukuna comes into your line of sight; you feel your heart skip two beats then begin a thundering rhythm against your ribcage.

Four years ago, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have given them a second of your time before walking away with a polite excuse.

One year before, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have huffed a quiet laugh. The first two have already come to pass (with too many lives lost and too many lives threatened) — yet the very last prediction? You would have considered it to be highly improbable, if not outright impossible.

Yet, now, if someone were to tell you the same three things, you think you wouldn't have shown much of a reaction. You would have simply turned to that 'someone' mentioned in the prediction, and gazed and gazed and gazed–

"I left the roll of parchment you bought for Mistress at the breakfast table, just as you asked, Master," Uraume's voice cuts your thoughts into half and you twist to catch them offer you both a very deep bow before hurrying out, to the left towards the kitchen, four baskets full of radishes in their arms.

You look back at your husband, only to find him seated stiffly on his throne, eyes landing anywhere but you. Stifling a giggle, you tilt your head to the side.

"Why do you act so embarrassed, my king?" you ask, stepping a timid step towards him, then another. Gleaming ruby eyes dart to your face then to your approaching feet. Something tingles through your veins. Climbing the stairs leading to him, you hum, smiling, "I don't think it's embarrassing – quite the opposite, in fact. To me, giving one's wife a thoughtful gift as that... it seems quite adorable to me."

"Be careful of your words, woman," the King of Curses growls, rising and taking a large menacing step in your direction; your smile grows intentionally too innocent, which does apparently nothing to quell his increasing fury: the precise outcome you've been wishing so fervently for.

He pulls you by the waist, flush to himself and lowers his lips close to yours, tantalizingly so. He smells very strongly of those bath salts you bought from a travelling merchant three moons back; faintly of blood and death, of the priest he diced last night after dinner — you wonder if you're worthy to be called a human, after finding the curse you have sworn yourself to forever, so terribly dear despite these.

Certainly not — but you reckon you're too far gone to care anyways, so you stop wondering such things – and lift yourself on your tiptoes to brush your lips with your husband's, then pull away a touch, words leaving your lips in a breathy whisper.

"What if I'm not careful with my words? What will you do then, hm? Will you devour me like the monster everyone says you are? Or, will you throw me away like everyone warns me you will one day– when you find someone prettier, smarter, better than me, huh?"

Two moments pass in pin-drop silence between the two of you.

Barking a noisy guffaw, Sukuna weaves his fingers through your hair, still damp from the bath you took a short time ago, and plants a deep kiss to your lips. Then parts his lips from yours, although a mere hair's breadth away, and grins, features teeming with that exotic species of malevolence you never saw yourself regarding to be charming.

Until your gaze met with his, one fated evening, that is.

Your nails dig crescents into the broad muscles of his shoulders.

Your lover's grin sharpens. "Let time tell the tale— yes, my queen?"

The next morning, you find a dozen or so heads waiting for you at the breakfast table, severed by a neat slice at the root of their neck– eyes and mouths which once looked down on your wedding with the King, frozen forever now in a scream of terror.

Forsaking the wonted theme of nature, you decide to pen a poem on scathing, soothing love, instead.

or... everyone: your husband is a despicable monster!!! you: uh-huh everyone: he might leave you for someone better!!! you: uh-huh everyone: you better not stay in this union anymore. you: nuh-nuh. i'm so gonna stay and love and fuck my hubby <3

▸ masterlist

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #trueform!sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #sukuna drabble #sukuna imagine #sukuna fic #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk fics #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

[breadbrobin]

lavender roses

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of persephone reader]

summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers

word count: 3.3k

(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)

(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)

———————————————

“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.

you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.

he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”

you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?

either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”

“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.

the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”

if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.

what the fuck. why would you say that?

chris was staring at you in shock.

your mouth was dry.

and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”

when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.

chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”

“i have no idea,” you breathed.

“do you think he knows?”

your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”

valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.

you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.

he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”

you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.

you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.

your arrow barely hit the target.

luke winced. “that was… better.”

you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”

he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”

“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”

“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.

you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.

“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.

“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.

“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.

you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.

he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.

you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.

“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”

you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.

your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.

luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”

your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”

he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”

then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.

february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.

but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.

“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.

you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.

“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”

“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.

“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?

you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”

“at two?”

“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.

his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”

“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.

at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.

your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.

even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.

she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”

you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.

she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”

“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.

you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.

then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”

you sat up. “what?”

“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.

you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.

you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.

holy shit.

becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”

you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”

she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”

as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.

“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”

“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”

“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”

you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.

it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.

you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.

luke was no where to be found.

great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.

just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.

“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”

he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.

shit. that would make things more difficult.

“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”

“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.

gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“

“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”

your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.

but he led you past the fields and into the forest.

great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.

you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.

you knew where you were going.

there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.

you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.

he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.

you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.

you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”

“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.

“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.

luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.

finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.

as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.

you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.

you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.

and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.

you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.

“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”

“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”

his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“

“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“

“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”

you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”

“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”

“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”

“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”

“you, what?”

he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”

you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”

“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.

“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”

he didn’t.

soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.

“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.

“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.

you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.

the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.

fucking hell.

you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.

the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.

he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #charlie bushnell

[snoowpee]

all mine - s.jy

Pairing ⇾ bestfriend!jake x bestfriend!reader

Genre ⇾ smut, a little bit of fluff

Warnings ⇾ unprotected sex (you know you don’t want kids!), making out, slight food play, marking, ass slapping, pussy slapping, name calling (whore), dirty talking, fingering, mentions of nudes & masturbation, oral (f. receiving), face riding, filming, hair pulling, jerking off, riding, possessiveness, choking. I might’ve missed something but that’s the gist of it, enjoy!

Summary ⇾ being best friends with jake is all fun and games until you get jealous with how sociable he is with other girls.

Word count ⇾ 4.4k words

Playlist ⇾ Summer Walker (feat. Jhené Aiko) - I’ll Kill You.

Science class is boring the hell out of you. You watched the clock on the wall, counting down how many more minutes of suffering you had to endure. Great! fifteen minutes left. I’m going to lose it, if this class doesn’t end soon. You grumbled. Putting your head down on top of your folded arms.

You turned to face the male seated beside you, when you felt a hand grazed the left side of your waist. “The work isn’t gonna do itself,” Jake quietly whispered, not wanting to disrupt the class, he smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. You discreetly flipped him off. Jake bit his lips to prevent a grin, but failed to do so.

“Do you have soccer practice afterschool?” You asked, changing the subject to suppress the rising thoughts in your head.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded.

“Bummer, I was gonna ask you to re-teach me the whole lesson today,” Jake knew you meant a whole different thing by the way your eyes lit up.

“I can swing by your place after practice, how does that sound, princess?” Jake whispered, mouthing the pet-name, careful even in his hushed tone to not let anybody hear. 

“Sounds good to me, Jakey,” you shrugged. He scoffed at the nickname while your mouth stretched into a smile.

The clock ticked a few more times until the bell finally rang, indicating that class was over. You and Jake both packed your stuff, heading in different directions after. Just have to get through English class. You grumbled again, wanting school to end, so that you could lay down on your bed.

English class wasn’t so bad for you, knowing that you had friends to keep you entertained during it. The whole day, you assumed that time seemed to pass by very slowly, but to your surprise, it flew during English class.

After bidding goodbye to your friends, you made your way to the school’s field, where Jake was at. As soon as you realized that the weather was pretty nice, you decided to watch his practice for a bit.

When you reached the field you saw Jake and his friends talking to a group of girls. You recognized that a few of the girls are from your History class, and some are friends with your friends.

As you sat on the bleachers, Heeseung and Sunghoon noticed your presence, excusing themselves politely before taking long strides towards you.

“We felt bad seeing you all by yourself, so we wanted to keep you company while Jake’s getting his cock wet.” Sunghoon snickered at Heeseung’s remark.

“Man, you gotta see how many of the girls are asking for his socials. Man’s famous,” Sunghoon said as he took a seat beside you, Heeseung following ensuite.

“It must be so tough to be friends with a whore,” Heeseung feigned sympathy. Before you could respond with a witty remark, a familiar voice spoke.

“You better not be hitting on my best friend!” Jake shouted from where he was standing. Heeseung and Sunghoon bursted out in fits of laughter.

“No way, he’s still calling you his best friend?” Sunghoon teased. “Damn, I wouldn’t be calling you that if I were him, especially after blowing your back,” Sunghoon gave you a knowing look, you shrugged.

“I don’t know, Park. I don’t kiss and tell,” you teasingly smiled at him.

“You two need to get this shit sorted out…” Heeseung butted in. “…cause from what I’m seeing, you two are basically best friends who are lowkey fucking each other, but sometimes you two act like you’re in a relationship, and it’s madly confusing. I don’t mean to pry, but trust me it’s that obvious.”

“You should tell your buddy,” you shrugged again. “I know what I want. I’m not too sure about your teammate, though.” 

All three of you turned to look at the soccer coach, your talk being interrupted by hearing a whistle blow.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll figure it out…” Sunghoon stood up. “…or maybe he did already.” Sunghoon said before he and Heeseung both waved goodbye to you.

You watched as the whole soccer team gathered, in the form of a circle, to debrief the events that took place from their last game, which didn’t take too long. 

When the coach ordered the team to warm up, your mouth watered at the sight of Jake’s hot, focused expression, eyes blazing with competitiveness. 

Afterwards, the team was split into two groups, one group wore a green mesh pinnie while the other wore a blue mesh pinnie. You heard the whistle blow again, signaling the start of a practice game. It took awhile for the game to end but you couldn’t deny that it was a little bit entertaining.

Once boredom overcame your senses, you fished out your phone, texting Jake to let him know that you were leaving already. You made your way to where your car was parked and drove home, which didn’t take too long. 

When you arrived at your place, you changed into comfy clothes, before deciding to take a nap.

You woke up to a blanket of darkness surrounding you. You reached for your phone to check the time, seven thirty, Jake was surely done with his practice by now. You unlocked your phone to entertain you while you wait for Jake to arrive.

You were scrolling through Twitter when you heard your bedroom door swing open, “Hey princess…” Jake’s voice was husky, he sighed audibly. “…practice was rough today.”

You paused, Jake had his back facing you, his upper body naked, with a towel around his waist, his black hair a little wet, probably from the shower he just had. He smelt just like you. 

“Where were you?” you had to know if he took a shower at your place again. Jake turned around to face you, whilst your eyes wandered to admire his broad shoulders and his toned abdomen, all displayed in front of you. “I mean, when did you get here?” You cleared your throat.

“Like what you see?” Jake bit his lips while smiling. 

You threw your phone to the side and walked up to him, you grabbed one of his shirts from his duffel bag, shoving the shirt to his face. Jake chuckled whilst leaning in to wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face where your shoulder and neck meet. You squirm under his touch, feeling his wet bare skin against the fabric of your shirt, his breath hits the skin of your neck and you feel him pressed a kiss on the said area. 

“I got here earlier, I didn’t want to wake you up, though. You looked so pretty sleeping,” Jake’s hands traveled down to grope your ass, he playfully slapped it, rubbing it in a circular motion after. “Did you get a new body wash?” Jake kissed your jaw, you hummed in response. “I like it, it smells good.”

“Yeah? You better not finish the whole bottle before I try it,” you teased, kissing Jake’s damp hair while he giggled.

“I’ll try not to,” Jake sighed, inhaling your scent after, your hands busy playing with his wet hair.

“I want ice cream,” you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Get dressed, Jakey,” you pinched one of his cheeks.

“What the princess wants, the princess gets,” Jake saluted, pulling himself away from you to grab his clothes. He gave you a look whilst you stood there.

“What?” you asked confused.

“Are you gonna watch me get dressed?” Jake asked.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you shrugged.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess,” He let out a breath, you snickered.

“I’m just kidding,” you sickeningly smiled at him as he rolled his eyes.

Before Jake can remove the towel around his waist, you turn around and lay on your stomach, busying yourself with your phone. After a while, you felt Jake slapped your ass, catching you off guard.

“Let’s go,” Jake hooked his arms around your waist, lifting you up with ease.

“I’m driving!” You said attempting to reach for Jake’s car keys, his arms around your waist preventing you to do so.

“No, you’re not,” Jake pecked your lips as you pouted, glaring at him. “C’mon, let’s go,” Jake intertwined his hand with yours, leading the way to his car. You tried getting in the driver’s seat before Jake, but he locked the car before you could open the door. “What a stubborn girl,” Jake shakes his head, smiling at your pissed expression.

“Please…” you drag out the word, putting your hands together, while you exaggerate your pout. Jake thought you were the cutest.

“Tough luck, princess,” Jake opened the car door to the passenger seat, motioning for you to get in. You sighed in defeat, rolling your eyes at a smiling Jake before you got in. 

Jake got in the car, turning on the engine right after, he drove to the direction of the nearest fast food chain that serves ice cream, pulling up to the drive thru to order for you. 

“Can I get one regular oreo ice cream? Yeah, thanks,” Jake drove ahead, the car halting a few moments after. 

Jake rolled down the car window, tapping his card on the machine, he rolled up the window handing you the cup of ice cream.

“Thanks Jakey!” You beamed upon eating a scoop.

“Nah babe, I want a kiss,” he smiled playfully as he pulled out of the parking lot, his right hand fell on top of your left thigh. You leaned in, pecking his lips.

“Satisfied?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Nah,” he steered the steering wheel with one hand, the car stopped at a stoplight and he looked at you with a teasing smile. He bit his lip trying to suppress it, but failed. You wanted to slap the eat-shiting grin he had on, losing it when his tongue darted out to lick the corners of his lips.

“You don’t wanna get on my nerves right now, Sim.” He lightly laughed at your ‘threat’ while you busy yourself with scooping the ice cream, feeding it to him after.

“Where do you wanna go, princess?” Jake asked, squeezing your thigh, eyes focused on the road.

You ponder for a while, “Any ideas?” you asked him.

“We can stop by the park? Go straight to your place, maybe watch a movie? If you’re up to drink we can go get liquor? I don’t really know, princess. It depends on what you want to do.” Jake’s eyes go back and forth between you and the road.

“Let’s stop by the supermarket,” you mumbled, mouth full of ice cream. Jake nodded, driving to the direction of the nearest supermarket. 

Jake spots a vacant spot, parking the car, when you’ve reached the parking lot of your destination.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing onto Jake’s lap. “What are you up to, princess,” Jake chuckled as you straddled him.

“Nothing,” you mischievously smiled at him. 

You pressed a kiss on his lips, pulling away before he gets the chance to explore your mouth with his tongue. “Not so fast, Jakey,” you proceed to eat the remaining ice cream.

“You’re such a tease…” Jake cheekily smiled, “…Do you really want to go to the supermarket?” Jake’s hand caressed your skin underneath your shirt. You shivered due to his cold fingers. Jake found your reaction amusing.

“Well you weren’t gonna pullover when I told you to! What was I supposed to say?!” You reasoned out, Jake snickered. “Can I please drive?” you begged.

“Why do you wanna drive so bad?” Jake rests his head against your shoulder.

“There’s no special reason, I just wanna drive,” you played with his fluffy hair.

“Sorry, princess. Answers still no,” Jake said, you pulled on his hair so you could look him in the eye.

“I will ride your face, if you let me drive,” you deadpanned.

“Tempting, but nope,” Jake pecked your lips, your tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. Pulling away from him to scoop the ice cream, feeding it to him. Once he had the ice cream in his mouth, you kissed him again, with your tongue exploring his mouth. You can taste the sweetness of the oreo ice cream against his tongue, as the mixture of his drool and the melted ice cream dribbles out from the corners of his mouth.

You placed the cup on the cupholder, your arms wrapping around Jake’s neck to pull him closer, while Jake does the same but with your waist. You both fight for dominance for a while, Jake losing as you grind down on him. You pulled away to lick the dripping drool on the corners of his mouth, Jake groaned as you pressed down on him harder.

“You’re so messy, princess,” Jake bites your collarbones.

“That’s how you like it,” you whispered into his ear.

“Alright, you’re driving,” Jake finally caved in, he sighed as you squealed. “But no over-speeding!” Jake pinched your cheeks.

“I don’t do that!” you defended yourself. Jake gave you a look. “That was one time, Jakey!”

“Sure, princess. What about the other day? Or the day after we went to that party? Last week? When you picked me and Jay up from the mall? Or when you drove us to school that one day?”

“You’re way hotter when you have your mouth shut, you know?” you made a face, Jake looked at you unamused. “Ok, you made your point. I won’t do it again!” you rolled your eyes. “Now, move!” Jake dramatically sighed again.

After Jake moved to the passenger seat, you drove all the way back to your place. 

It was safe to say that you made it alive, miraculously without speeding.

You turned on the tv in your bedroom, sitting down on Jake’s lap, while he lay down with his head against the headboard while he had his right arm wrapped around you. As you try to pick a movie to watch, Jake was busy texting his friends, lightly laughing from time to time.

“Hey, man,” Jake laughed. Is he serious right now? you glanced at him but he was too busy to even notice. 

“Yeah, I heard. No? Wait, what? You’re kidding?” Jake continued talking through the phone. 

You can hear Sunghoon’s faint voice, explaining stuff you didn’t care about. You stood up and peered at Jake. He didn’t even notice. Let’s see if he could keep this up. With that, you discarded your shorts, leaving your purple laced panties on, one of Jake’s favorites.

You climbed back on top of him but instead of sitting yourself on top of his lap, you moved up so that you’re sitting on his chest, making sure to arch your back so he got a view of your ass. This time Jake did notice you, his hand caressing and groping your ass despite talking to Sunghoon. You jut out your ass so that it’s all up in his face, shuffling around to find a more comfortable position. 

Once you found yourself comfortable, you had your head rested on your folded arms on top of Jake’s abdomen, your legs folded on either side of Jake, with your ass way too close to Jake’s face much to his liking. 

You pull on the strings of his sweats, continuing to look for a movie to watch. You felt Jake pull you closer by your waist, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh, you groaned as he bit your asscheek after.

Jake bit his lower lip, trying to focus on what Sunghoon was saying. He was well aware that you're pining for his attention but he couldn’t hang up on Sunghoon since he was saying such interesting things. 

Jake pushed his thumb between your clothed folds, feeling the wet patch on the fabric grow, you whimpered in response to his touches. You moaned when he pulled your panties upwards, creating a friction in between your folds, stimulating your clit with the fabric rubbing against it. Jake does this for a while, leaving some bites on the flesh of your ass as he did so. At his actions, you let out soft moans loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for Sunghoon to hear on the other line.

You audibly gasped when you felt Jake rubbed your clothed clit, jerking your ass back to feel more of him. You hear him chuckle, not sure if it’s because of what Sunghoon said or your reaction. Jake pinches your clit, pulling it and twisting, leaving you breathless. He slaps your ass, gripping the soft flesh to spread your ass apart.

“Hey, man, listen. As much as I love hearing how Jay got himself into some deep shit, I have a really important task at hand,” Jake pushed your panties to the side, he sighed when he saw a glob of arousal drip down from your hole to your folds.

“Yeah, is your best friend being needy right now?” You hear Sunghoon say on the other line.

“Fuck off,” Jake simply said, you heard Sunghoon laughed before a beeping noise indicated that the call was over. 

Jake threw his phone to the side, he pulled you impossibly closer to him before speaking. “I can’t even talk to my friends without you feeling the need to pull shit like this?” Jake slapped your cunt, a fresh glob of arousal dripping out of your hole from the action. “My cute little whore, running around impatiently wanting to get fucked,” you mewled when Jake shoved his thumb in and out of you. “Don’t I fuck you enough? You want me to always fill you up with my dick?”

“I don’t know, Jakey. You tell me…” you breathlessly spoke, “…Do you always have to look for new bitches to fuck? Knowing you jerk off to the thoughts of me wrapped around you? Knowing how good my mouth feels wrapped around you?” you hear Jake groan, his cock stirring up in his sweats, visibly getting hard.

“Fuck,” Jake bit his lips, replacing his thumb with his index and middle finger.

“You always have to call me late at night, when you’re so horny and desperate to get off? When, you have to send me pictures of your dick, begging me to do something about it? All those videos of you jerking off and putting on a show for me?” You reached for Jake’s wrist, pulling his fingers out of you. 

You leaned all the way back until you felt Jake’s plushed lips against your folds. You moaned when Jake licked your folds, tongue dipping in your hole a couple of times before licking your clit after. 

“You don’t think I know how you moan my name when you’re all alone humping your pillow? Or how desperate you sound when you whine out my name when you touch yourself?” you grind down on Jake’s tongue, his nose hitting your clit.

“You’re so hot, princess,” Jake said against your cunt, words muffled, he hugged your waist, shoving his lips against your folds.

“Right there, Jakey,” you moaned, toes curling with how good Jake was eating you out. You turn your head to the side, seeing how Jake was holding onto your waist and how he had his head buried in between your legs. The sight looked so hot. You reached for your phone, clicking on the record button before zooming in on the mirror showing the view of Jake hugging your waist while he ate you out. “Say hi, Jakey,” you bit your lips when Jake slapped your ass.

You fully sat up to sit directly on Jake’s face, both of his hands gripping your waist, you reached back to gripped his fluffy hair, pushing him closer to your cunt. You point the camera down, showing Jake under you, licking your folds and sucking on your cunt.

“You’re doing so good for me, Jakey…” the grip around your waist tightened. 

Your moans got louder when you neared your climax, seeing white as you spilled all over Jake. He helped you draw out your climax by licking you clean, pulling off of him when oversensitivity reached your senses.

Jake looked like he came out of your biggest wet dream, his swollen lips and chin shiny from the mix of his saliva and your release, fluffy hair all messy.

“Take your clothes off for me,” you film Jake following your orders without protest. He took off his shirt, throwing it to the side, he did the same with his sweats and underwear, leaving himself bare. “Show me how you touch yourself, Jakey.”

Jake looked at you then at the camera, he gripped the base of his cock, slit leaking beads of precum. He spat on the tip of his cock, whining when he stroked himself, smearing his saliva all over to lubricate his cock.

“Who do you think of when you’re all alone, Jakey?” You asked, Jake bucked his hips up when his hand gained speed, he moaned out your name loudly.

“F-Fuck…” Jake noisily whined, “Y-You’re… you’re a-all I think about!” Jake struggled to speak coherently, his hand moving impossibly fast. 

It didn’t take too long for Jake to cum, already worked up after eating you out. As he reaches the peak of his climax, white ropes of his cum shoot out of his tip, creating a mess everywhere. Jake gasped for air, trying to regulate his breathing. You stopped filming, dropping your phone to your side to climb onto Jake’s lap. He hugged your waist again, leaning his head back on the head board, closing his eyes.

Jake hissed when you bit the skin of his neck, leaving a bite mark that will surely bruise. Satisfied with what you’ve done, you continued leaving bite marks on the expanse of his neck, playing with his hair as you did so.

“What’s gotten into you?” Jake asked, exhaustion evident on his face.

You take a hold of his cock, pushing your panties to the side to line it up with your hole before sinking down, you and Jake moaning in unison at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick. You let yourself adjust to Jake’s size before you moved up and down on his lap at a fast pace. Skin slapping, lewd moans, and crude language echoed throughout your bedroom.

“Nothing, I’m just claiming what’s mine,” you said, stuttering out each word. Jake’s hands rolled your shirt up, squeezing both of your tits. 

You moaned out his name when his thumbs played with your sensitive nipples. You pushed his hands away to roughly kiss him, in response Jake let you explore the cavern of his mouth with your tongue. You barely pulled away, letting him breathe for a moment, impatiently pressing your lips together to roughly make out.

Jake’s lips were swollen and shiny once you pulled away from him, leaving you satisfied. Jake gasped when he felt your right hand crept up to his neck, your fingers wrapped around his throat.

“Fuck…” Jake bit his lips, moaning out your name when you tighten your grip around his neck.

“Who do you belong to, Jakey?” you bounced on him faster, chasing your high.

“Y-You,” Jake felt lightheaded with his peak nearing. “‘m a-all yours.”

“That’s right. You’re all mine, understood?” Jake attempted to nod, your grip on him not loosening.

“Y-Yes! A-All yours,” Jake stuttered out.

Jake rubbed your clit at a speed, the knot in your stomach finally snapping as you creamed on Jake’s cock, triggering his orgasm not long after.

Jake leaned his back on the headboard behind him, catching his breath. You hugged Jake, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion creep in. You almost drifted into sleep with the way Jake was playing with your hair, his other arm loosely wrapped around you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Jake spoke, breaking the silence. He carried you to your bathroom, setting you down on your toilet to let you pee, he cleaned himself up while waiting for you to finish, lending you a hand when you needed anything.

After changing into new sets of clothes, you lie down in bed with Jake to cuddle. He hissed when you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close.

“What?” you asked Jake, confused, he didn’t answer, opting to point at his neck. You pulled down Jake’s hoodie to inspect his neck, splotches of marks adorned his neck, your handprint evident, bruising the skin. “Oh my god!” you sat up at the same time your eyes widened, Jake chuckled at your reaction. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry! I got carried away!”

“You’re good, princess,” Jake hugged you again, pulling you close as he kissed the skin of your neck. Your fingers find their way to play with his hair again. “Oh, I meant it by the way…” He rested his head on your shoulder, looking up to hold your gaze. “…I’m all yours.” Jake grinned.

“I know,” you said sporting the same expression the boy had in front of you. “You’re all mine.”

“I’m sorry for making you jealous, princess.” Jake pouted. “But I can’t guarantee that it won't happen again,” Jake teased, pointing at his neck.

“You little shit!” you flicked Jake’s neck in annoyance, making him scream at the sudden pain.

“I’m sorry! I was just kidding!” Jake hugged you tighter.

You woke up the next morning with a note from Jake, apologizing that he had to leave for practice early in the morning, not forgetting to promise a hang out with his girl after. It was safe to say that you went back to bed with a smile on your face after reading the note.

Jake felt bad for leaving you, but it was either that or deathly exercises assigned to him by his coach. 

When he arrived at the change room, he spotted his friends by their designated lockers. Jay already changed into his jersey, Heeseung groggily changing, and Sunghoon stretching.

“About time you arrived,” Sunghoon said. “We were just talking about Jay’s dumbass. What took you so long to get here?”

“I had to stop by my place to get my shit,” Jake simply said. “Hey man,” Jake dapped Jay up. “So, what did your dad say?”

“I don’t know, man. He said he’s gonna get my car fixed, but guess what? This dude’s gonna intern at his company,” Jay pointed to himself, looking unamused.

“Yikes, you poor soul.” Jake said, pulling up his hoodie to change his clothes. His friends collectively gasped.

“Dude, you’re not gonna go out looking like that,” Sunghoon said, shocked.

“Yeah, no. Coach is gonna think you got into a fight or something,” Heeseung said mouth agape.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Jay pointed at Jake’s neck.

“Oh, this?” Jake arrogantly smirked. “My girlfriend happened.”

© snoowpee | DO NOT COPY OR REPOST.

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jake smut #jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake x reader smut #jake x reader #sim jake x reader #jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction

[wordstome]

kosovo maiden (könig x reader)

Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)

I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!

2.2k words

There are soldiers in the field.

You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.

Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.

It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.

The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.

It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…

You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?

Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.

“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.

“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”

He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.

It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.

The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you’re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.

You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.

In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—

You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.

The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?

It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.

You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.

He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…

You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.

You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.

You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—

Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.

The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.

“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.

“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.

“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.

“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.

“What?”

He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.

“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.

You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”

He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.

“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.

You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.

“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…

“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.

He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.

You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.

“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”

You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.

You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.

You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”

You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.

You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.

But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.

ein Engel = an angel Wo bin ich? = Where am I? Muste pissen = had to piss Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad? Scheiße = shit Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place Mein Retter = my savior Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it

Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely

#könig #König x reader #König x you #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #I really need to sort out my tag list... #fic: kosovo maiden